I felt everybody should get to know Sarah a little better. This is my inadequate way of doing that. Was fun to write though. As usual, I'll get around to fixing all the little errors later. Time to renew the oyster card.
Sarah feels pretty confident about meeting her girlfriend's parents.
She is, after all, the kind of person who only studies for exams the night before and passes anyway. She is the kind of person who somehow manages to be talented at everything she tries. She is, in fact, the kind of person that, it they put just a bit of effort into it, could be friends with pretty much anybody.
She is, in her own words, just that amazing.
But a swollen ego can stave away anxiety for only so long.
As she sits now, on one of the seats of the Citadel's considerably lavish public transportation rails, she cannot help but notice, out the roof window, the gigantic statue of her girlfriend's dad (Other mother? She had always had trouble figuring out Asari pronouns).
The statue juts triumphantly out of the Council chambers, effectively visible from all corners of the citadel. One fist is pumped victoriously in the air while the other balances an assault rifle on her hip. Irises were left un-sculpted, and because of this, even from a distance, the statue manages to exude an almost divine presence to match the magnitude of Shepard's legend.
Sarah's usually unflappable cool falters. Her confidence, typically un-budgable, budges.
That, she thinks, is the person I am going to see in thirty minutes.
The statue's cocky smirk, exalted as an iconic decision on the part of the sculptor for its inclusion, seem for just a few seconds to be focused entirely on her.
And that assault rifle is awful intimidating.
Sarah forcibly averts her eyes, shoving her gaze to the opposite window. A turian sitting under it looks at her and nudges his head. Sup. Sarah nudges her head in reply. Sup.
She feels underprepared.
Should she be dressed better? No, skirt and blouse is probably fine, better than the overly-formal standard space-dress that everyone seems to be wearing these days.
Should she have brought a gift? No, what is this the 1950s? This isn't some ritualistic dowry tradition.
Should she have-
"Gah! Come on Sarah, stop thinking. Just stop."
And for a while saying all that out loud helps. But it doesn't stop her from, not five seconds later, thinking and anticipating all over again. And to think, when she first found out about Benny's parentage she had been confidently blasé about the whole thing.
Needless to say, she wouldn't be this daunted if the people she was about to (officially) meet weren't galactic legends.
Oh god what have I gotten myself into?
She's startled when the railcar comes to a halt at her stop and the doors slide open.
Sarah stumbles off and out into the rich district she has become well-acquainted with over the last few weeks. Benny hadn't felt comfortable inviting her over until recently, and though Sarah was a little curious as to why, she never thought to ask.
Well now she knows why.
Her omni tool flickers to life, jostling Sarah's pocket where her hand was stuffed. Pulling it out, she sees an image of Benny smiling at the camera, vibrating wildly in the air. Pressing the image, the projection flips to reveal an instant message display.
Benny: Where are you?!
If there is one thing Sarah finds herself morbidly taking pleasure in, it is as much her girlfriend's smile as it is her girlfriend's indignation. Benny is always cutest when she's angry. In the overuse of question and exclamation marks, Sarah can see Benny's angry face, and she giggles.
Sarah: Im on my way. T-minus five minutes.
Beneziah: Well hurry up!
"What I do for love," Sarah sighs, picking up the pace so that, not three minutes later, she is at her girlfriend's doorstep. Her heart beats to the drum of an overzealously epileptic drummer.
She rings the space-age equivalent of a doorbell, and is kept waiting for a lengthy thirty seconds before she hears a series of footsteps.
The door opens to reveal an older, hot-mom, version of Benny. She is…mute-renderingly stunning.
Liara T'Soni looks at an extremely nervous-looking young woman she can only assume is Sarah Stottlemeyer.
Sarah's blonde hair is messy and long, though neat enough to frame her face without being impractical. She's wearing a sweater over her blouse, and a skirt. A combination that, though not excessively tight, is just snug enough to reveal a primly curvy figure. Overall, a grade-A presentation.
Wow, Liara thinks, she looks much better in person. Good job Benny.
"Hi, you must be Sarah; I'm Benny's Mother, Liara. It's so good to meet you"
Sarah, takes the outstretched hand, understanding now from which side of the family Benny inherited her sexy voice. "Hi," says Sarah. Put on the spot, she forgets her nervousness and fuels her words entirely on natural charm, enough that she forgets to be intimidated by the ethereal beauty in front of her. "It's good to meet you too. Thanks for having me over"
"It's our pleasure. Please, come in."
Though she has been in the T'Soni living room many times before, Sarah realizes that she had never really taken a very good look around, mostly because she was either (cornily) lost in Benny's eyes or seeing it from the doorway.
Many pictures and knick-knacks are strewn about the walls and shelves. Mementos, she assumes, from the family's many adventures. Over here is some sort of metallic ball, over there is a burnt helmet; dog-tags, fish tank, Krogan battlemaster figurines, Prothean artifacts behind glass cases, a few surreal paintings and sculptures, books with actual paper pages, and a noticeably large collection of Thessian drama memorabilia.
There is a large portrait of the whole family, as well as many pictures of Shepard and Liara posing with various interesting people; a woman covered in tattoos, a grizzled krogan, a noticeably annoyed asari in a white jacket, an obviously drunk quarian, a turian caught screaming in what Sarah assumes was an elaborate prank.
A few stand-alone portraits are there as well; a damaged geth at a ship console, a drell looking up from the middle of gun maintenance. These are placed reverentially apart from the others.
In short, the apartment has character that surpasses the neighborhood's genteel homogeneity. It's full of memories.
"You have a beautiful home," says Sarah. And she means it.
"Thank you. We aren't much for conventional decoration." Liara smiles pleasantly, indicating the very couch she and Benny had been making out on not days before, "Please, take a seat, I have to go find Benny's father. She has been…busy lately, and is a little out of sorts"
Out of sorts? "No, sure, go right ahead"
Left alone on the couch, Sarah takes a moment to message Benny that she has arrived. When no reply is instantly forthcoming she just sort of sits and waits. There's no shortage of eye-distraction in the T'Soni living area.
"Liara, when is Benny's girlfriend getting here I'm having trouble remo- Oh. You're not my wife"
And there she is, Commander Shepard: savior of the galaxy, the face that ushered in the new age, the woman almost solely responsible for ongoing galactic peace, survivor of the infamous incident at Akuze (a feat that, while comparatively less impressive, is historically well-known due to its constant use in the opening scenes of Shepard's many biopics).
Her girlfriend's father.
The awe that Sarah might have otherwise felt is replaced by a mixed bag of intimidation, confusion and arousal.
For Shepard is wearing what she is pretty sure is an outfit from a Justicar western her mother is a fan of; Outlaws of the Code, a Thessian drama popular among species other than just asari. The outfit is essentially a high-collared dress with a considerable cleavage window, and slits running up either leg. Her legs aren't bare though, as they are enveloped in tight stiletto boots that climb up to Shepard's thighs, making them more salacious than if there were nothing there at all.
Very bondage-chic. Popular culture would have the galaxy at large believe that most justicars are gun-toting dommes.
Shepard, however, either doesn't notice or doesn't care about Sarah's bewilderment. The woman's eyes narrow, and in that dress it makes her look like a panther set to pounce (and not in a sexy way, but at the same time in a very, very sexy way)
"No, you're that Stottlemeyer girl. I thought I recognized the back of your head"
"Uh…"
Shepard takes a seat, right on the other end of the couch, sensually crossing one leg over another. Sarah averts her eyes, wondering if she should surreptitiously scooch away.
"So, Sarah. Can I call you Sarah?"
"Er…"
"Sarah, tell me about yourself. I'd like to know what kind of person my daughter is dating. And I'm trying to be friendly about it"
This, Sarah feels she can answer. "Sure, uh, I come from the Pelican colonies, but I grew up in-"
"No, not that stuff. Tell me about what you do now. How you met Benny, that kind of thing. I'm taking an interest"
Ah, the interrogation. The situation is still scary, but it is a script Sarah feels confident following. "Oh, okay, I'm training in data analysis right now. I want to be a communications specialist someday, so…there's that. I actually met Benny a while ago, but she for-"
"Actually you know what? Let's just skip all that for now. Believe me, I would love to hear where this is going, but I need you to do me a small favor first"
"What is it?"
Shepard, Sarah finds, is a radically un-shy woman, "I need you to help me take off this dress"
"What?!"
"Yeah. Liara tied the fastenings and…yeah, they're really hard to undo without contorting myself to extreme angles which…I guess she enjoys. I don't know. Just help me out"
"Uh, Are you sure, I mean-"
"Yes, I am sure. I saved the galaxy, so, yeah. I don't make my decisions lightly. God, this is getting uncomfortable"
"Okay, sure, no problem. Um," Sarah takes one look at the convoluted elegance that are the knots holding the dress together at the back, "Wow. Ms. T'Soni, er- Commander-"
"Either 'Jane' or 'Shepard' will do, Sarah"
"Right. Okay, Jane," Sarah laughs nervously, "I'm not exactly comfortable right now, with this"
"Oh come on, help me out. Please?"
With those words Sarah remembers a fantasy she used to have that went along these very lines, situationally. Her flush just about envelops her entire body as she reaches with trembling hands for the first knot.
"Dad!" She's interrupted by Benny bursting into the room, and her hands dart to her sides. She's unsure if she should feel relieved or guilty. "Dad, what are you doing?"
"I'm actually having a pretty nice talk with-"
"Ohmigod, and why are you wearing that? Oh jeez, no. This is what you and Mom have been up to isn't it? Crap! Unwelcome mental image." She fusses over Shepard like a mother hen, "Please, just go change"
"What? You have any idea how hard it is to take this stuff off by myself?"
"Dad," Benny's eyes gleam entreatingly, tears threatening, "please, for the love of god, go change. Mom is looking for you upstairs"
Shepard grumbles, getting up and artfully gathering the hem of her dress. "I'm sorry Sarah, I am being dismissed like a common courtesan. I'll be back down in a few minutes…er, make that the better part of an hour"
Shepard huffs out of the room, melodramatically feminine in that way she gets whenever she's annoyed. Despite herself, Sarah can't resist a covert glance at the woman's shapely posterior. Benny inherited that too, Sarah dazedly realizes. Score.
When Shepard's gone, Benny kisses Sarah on the cheek.
"I am so sorry about that"
Sarah regains the ability to breathe, "That was…"
"Believe it or not, any discomfort you're feeling right now is probably unintentional on her part. She's just…like that"
"Oh…oh good. Hey can you just sit over there, really quick?"
"Uh, okay," Benny complies, "why?"
Sarah promptly faints onto Benny's lap.