These next few drabbles are a series of unrelated stories inspired by prompts at the masseffect LJ community. Unbeta'd, so consider yourself warned! Constructive crit welcome.

Prompt: Oh! Darling!

Jacob considered himself a competent man, as far as most things went. And if he didn't know something, he asked questions; did his research. So when Shepard's birthday came around, Jacob knew that something was expected of him. At least, he thought that's what the scowl on her face meant.

"There's this club on Illium – Oh! Darling! – it's pretty good. She'll be impressed if you take her there," Joker said. Jacob doubted at first, knowing the pilot's sense of humor, but crewmen Hadley, Matthews, and Hawthorn all corroborated that it was a "nice place." Jacob mentally shrugged off his doubts and reserved a table on the extranet, listing "birthday" under the "special occasions" option.

When the night came for their date, Shepard even wore a little black dress—the one that Kasumi had bought for her.

"League of your own, Liz," Jacob said, grinning as Shepard stepped off the elevator in the CIC. She blushed at the open admiration in his gaze.

"It's still too short," she muttered, tugging at the hem. "And it shows my boobs."

Jacob refrained from chuckling—outspoken and no-nonsense Shepard might be, but she also had a modest streak a mile wide. Give her a platoon of mercenaries and her shotgun, and she'd on them like ugly on a batarian. Give her a pair of sexy heels and a dress, and she stammered like a teenager. Still, he knew she liked his appreciation—she showed it when they were alone.

They walked through the Nos Astra spaceport, Shepard twitching self-consciously, trying to pull up the front of her dress until Jacob took her hand, threading their fingers.

He finally had her laughing and relaxing when they arrived at Oh! Darling! And stopped. Horrified.

Oh! Darling! was a strip club—not the usual asari dancers that were a dime a dozen—but male dancers. Human men with washer-board abs gyrated on the stage, though they weren't the only species represented—Jacob spotted a couple of turians, one drell, even a batarian and—was that an elcor lumbering in the dim shadows?

Oh no. Please no, was Jacob's fleeting thought before Shepard's grip on his hand became like a vise.

"Jacob—"

"Ah, you must be the birthday girl!" A turian wearing what might be considered "normal" clothing if you didn't look too close sauntered up.

"Touch me and I will ruin your day!" Shepard snarled.

To Jacob's surprise, the turian laughed, then turned and gestured behind him. "Gen! The lady's not satisfied with one—better get over here before she gets really mad."

"We wouldn't want that to happen," purred an olive-scaled drell who was wearing even less than the turian. "Do you want me to trill 'Happy Birthday' to you? I'm told most human women find our voices erotic."

Shepard's protest became a strangled noise in her throat. Her cheeks were flaming red—nearly as red as her eyes had been before getting fixed by Dr. Chakwas' fancy machine.

I'm going to kill Joker, Jacob thought and stepped forward. "Look this is all a misunderstanding—" He tried to say, but Shepard started dragging him away, a murderous look on her face. He made no move to fight—she was ridiculously strong when she wanted to be.

He'd imagined a dozen different ways she might hurt him when they rounded the corner from the concierge station and were alone in the docking bay that had access to the Normandy.

Shepard abruptly dropped his hand and leaned over, shoulders shaking. Jacob stared at her as she laughed—laughed so hard that tears gathered at the corners of her eyelashes, smearing the mascara that Miranda had so painstakingly applied.

"Never—" she gasped, "never, ever take advice from Joker."

Jacob chuckled. "Agreed. I'm still thinking of a way to punish him."

"Oh?" Shepard's grin became predatory, and she walked toward him with a swing in her hips that made him gulp. He backed away but hit the wall. Shepard's hands planted on either side of him, and she leaned in close enough that he could see the scattering of deceptively innocent freckles dotting her nose.

"Let's not talk about Joker's punishment yet," she purred. "I still have to think of what I'm going to do to you."