He'd been a little nervous at first—some of that giddy adrenaline rush from earlier in the evening had returned in full force—especially being here alone, just the two of them. But, the setting was familiar, intimate, and laid back, and he'd have to be an idiot to not want to take advantage of the rare chance to spend some time together with Shepard without all the other duties and distractions in the way. It felt… almost normal, and it was definitely something that he could see himself getting used to.

Shepard was relaxed in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her before, with one arm draped across the back of the couch and the other holding on to her bottle of beer. The conversation was comfortable and punctuated with laughter as they worked their way through a couple of bottles each. Garrus paced himself, drinking a little more slowly to let her catch up to the wine and whisky he'd had earlier in the night. Neither of them was drunk, but he'd reached the stage of feeling warm and happy; loose and content.

When he'd accidentally slopped a little of his ale over his hand, he hadn't thought anything of stripping off his damp glove—and the other one for good measure— laying them out on the arm of the couch beside him. He'd even forgotten that he'd taken them off by the time Shepard had commented on it. She'd actually stopped talking, mid-sentence, when she'd noticed.

"Hey, you took your gloves off!" She stared at his hands for a moment, and he nearly covered them again, wondering if he'd mistakenly done something culturally inappropriate. Shepard didn't seem upset though… more curious than anything, if he was correctly interpreting the way her brow furrowed and the way she seemed to be gnawing on her lower lip.

"Are they sharp?" she asked in a sudden rush of words.

"Sharp?"

"Your talons." She glanced down at her beer, possibly embarrassed? "Okay, this sounds stupid, but I always wondered what… I mean, it's just that I don't think I've ever seen you take them off and I… Never mind. It's weird. I'm being weird."

"It's okay, it's not weird. Well, not that weird anyway." He snickered. "Do you want to see? I don't mind." He moved the hand that was closest to her and rested it on the fabric of the couch, splaying out his fingers for her perusal.

With a hesitant glance that flicked over his face, Shepard took his hand in hers; running the edge of her thumb over the velvet pad of his palm. It tickled a little, but he kept still enough to permit her explorations as she continued along the pebbled skin of his primary digit.

She stopped at the point where his talon began, looking to him for permission. "They're filed," he murmured. "Safe."

"Do you keep them blunted all the time?" Her eyes were bright and curious; her cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol in her system.

"Yeah. It's easier to shoot when they're not curved. Or sharp."

She poked the tip of one experimentally with her finger. "If I had these, I'd keep them all pointy. Then, I could jab Udina in the head whenever he annoyed me."

"So, all the time then?"

She laughed, relaxed once more. "Absolutely. Every fucking time. 'Hey, Shepard, you can't do that.' Poke." She mimed a jab at his head. "'Hey, Shepard, this is an outrage. ' Poke. 'Hey, Shepard, suck my balls.' Poke." Shepard released his hand with a sigh and leaned back with a smile. "It would be awesome."

Garrus took another long draw from his bottle and set it down on the floor next to the couch. "I know I'd pay to watch that. I'm sure you could get some sort of implants. Miranda could probably hook you up."

"Yeah, somehow it wouldn't be as satisfying though. I guess I'll have to make do with just punching him one of these days." She took a swig from her drink and nestled the bottle in her lap. "Okay, since I just groped up your hands; it's your turn. You must have some part of my weird alien body that you've always wondered about."

He paused, as if in thought, although he already knew what his answer would be. He liked this relaxed camaraderie between them and he didn't want it to end. Thanks to the comfortable warmth of the alcohol in his system, his slight embarrassment at voicing his desire out loud didn't even make him blush—not that she'd have been able to tell anyway. The light from the aquarium washed everything in a bluish tint, so any extra colour along his neck and under his throat wouldn't be visible. "Your hair."

The whole notion of hair had creeped him out at first, when he'd first started with C-Sec. The tiny strands had brought back childhood fears of the multi-legged araneae that had lurked in the shadows beneath his bed. It didn't bother him in the same way now, thankfully, although his inherent sense of its oddness hadn't faded nearly as much. Shepard's hair fell just past her shoulders; curling at the edges, especially in environments that were hot and humid. It was almost always tied back into a clump on the back of her head, although wisps inevitably escaped to cling to her forehead and cheeks.

He was relieved that Shepard seemed completely unperturbed by his request.

"I can do that. Here." She pulled at the band that held it all in place, securing it around her wrist before combing her fingers through it. The floral undertones that defined Shepard's unique scent grew slightly stronger. She smiled at him. "Okay, go for it, but try not to pull too hard."

Garrus reached for one of the locks that curled over her shoulder, rubbing the ends between his fingers. "So, this part is… dead? No sensation?"

"Nope, no feeling in it at all. Except where it attaches to the scalp. The hair itself is like… I don't know, a fingernail, I guess."

"It's softer than I expected," he said, not really sure what he'd been expecting, in all honesty. Garrus traced the lock up to the top of her head and she bent her head a little to accommodate him. He traced his talons lightly across her scalp. "You can feel this part?"

She made a small noise of affirmation, her head still bowed. "Just from the nerve endings on my head though. The hair itself has no nerves."

"Do you have this in other places? I know human men grow it on their faces, too, but I wasn't sure if women—"

Shepard glanced up, her cheeks a deeper pink than they had been earlier. "Er, yeah. We do, although it's not quite like the hair on our heads. We have a bit on our arms and legs and, um, around our… genital area."

"Around your—oh. Oh!" He stopped twisting a strand of hair around the tip of his finger. "Really?"

"Yes, really." She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Huh." He thought for a moment. "Doesn't that get itchy?"

She muffled a laugh. "Not really, no. Some women trim it, shave it, dye it crazy colours…"

Garrus gave her a grin that verged on a leer. "Do you?"

Shepard punched his shoulder and laughed again. "That's way too personal, big guy. Maybe after a few more drinks." She lifted the bottle from between her crossed legs and drained the last swallow. "Speaking of drinks, I need another one. You?"

"Sure, why the hell not?" Garrus finished off his bottle in a few long pulls as he watched her weave her way over to the cases in the corner and select a bottle from each one.

"Bottle opener?" She peered around the edge of the cases.

"On the floor, on your left."

"Perfect!" She cracked open the two new bottles and made her way back, sitting a little closer this time as she curled her legs back underneath her. The solidness of her side pressed against his was undeniably pleasant. Shepard clanked her bottle gently against his. "Cheers."

They drank in silence for a few minutes; Shepard taking at least two swallows for every one of his. The beer was amazingly still somewhat chilled. Shepard was fidgeting with a lock of hair, unconsciously mimicking his own earlier gestures. "Do you have feeling in your fringe?"

"My fringe?"

She set her drink down next to the couch and shuffled to draw her knees up to her chest, effectively curling into a ball. She folded her arms across her knees and rested her chin on top, tilting her head so she could look at him. "I was just thinking about hair—it really is kind of weird, when you think about it—and wondering whether or not your fringe is the same."

"Sort of. There is sensation all the way to the tips, but it's… stronger near the base. The feeling in the tips is more dull, but not quite numb. When they flare, it feels heavy and prickly. Not unpleasant, though."

Shepard's forehead crinkled in thought. "When they flare?"

It was Garrus' turn to chuckle awkwardly. "It's a… sexual thing. When males get aroused, the extra blood flow makes the spines of our fringes, uh, grow a little bigger. Stick up a bit."

"Really? Sounds hot."

Garrus snorted. "Never thought you were into turians, Shepard."

"Well, technically, he'd be into me… if things were going well, anyway." It was her turn to leer as she reached down to grab the neck of her bottle, letting it dangle loosely from the tips of her fingers for a minute. She then took a slow sip, her gaze lingering on his face as she arched an eyebrow at him. "Why? You offering?"

He leaned back and took an exaggerated swallow of his own drink, holding her eyes with his own. "I'd love to Shepard, I really would, but I don't think you could handle all this." He gestured with his hand, indicating the length of his chest and torso. "I'd take my shirt off, you'd swoon, and it would all be over before we'd even started."

The corners of her mouth twitched with restrained laughter. "You wish, big guy."

He chuckled and drank again. "Hey, you brought it up."

She set her drink back down on the floor. "So, can I touch it?"

"Excuse me?" Garrus inhaled too rapidly and coughed as the burn from the alcohol seeped into his nasal passages.

"It's my turn in the 'touch the alien' game. Fringe, yes or no? Or, is that too strange? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Uh, it's fine." The fire in his nose was still remarkably unpleasant and he coughed again. "Go ahead."

Shepard shifted to a kneeling position to give herself enough height to reach the top of his head and, as she had done when he'd touched her hair, he let his head drop down to give her easier access. He couldn't see her face, but he could sense her slight hesitation before her fingers made contact with the base of his fringe. The tips of her fingers were cool, like droplets of chilled rain sliding up the spines.

"This okay?"

"Yeah." His subharmonics wavered into a lower register. It felt… nice. More than nice. "Yeah, it's okay." Shepard stroked along each one, feeling the pointed ends just as she had with his talons. It had really been far too long since he'd been touched this way by anyone and, even though she clearly didn't mean anything sexual by it, it was strangely comforting just to be touched.

"Your skin is so warm. I'm jealous." She sat back lazily, the lack of contact leaving him faintly disconcerted. He could still almost imagine the sensation of her fingers sweeping over the contours of fringe.

He found his voice after what he hoped was an imperceptible gap in the timing of his response. "How you humans managed to survive with no body heat is beyond me."

"I know." She sighed. "No claws, no fangs, soft and squishy… There's a reason I love guns." Shepard grinned and drained the rest of her bottle, lining up the empty one into an orderly row with her others; a row of amber-hued glass soldiers all standing at attention. "Want another one? It is your birthday, after all. Well, close enough, anyway."

"I'm good for now. Still have lots left in this one." He waggled the bottle, just enough to show its contents without spilling.

"Suit yourself." She hopped up, slightly more staggered than the last time, and grabbed another for herself. She fumbled with the opener, but succeeded on her second try. Considering the number of empty bottles that were arranged along her side of the couch, it was impressive that her hands were still that steady. No wonder she'd managed to drink Wrex under the table. "It's your turn, if we're still playing."

She flopped down next to him, draping an arm across his cowl and giving him a squeeze before settling back onto her side of the sofa. It should feel strange, to have this degree of casual familiarity with a superior, but… it didn't. Some time, between Shepard's rebirth and his own, they'd become more than that. There was no one—no one—he trusted more than her and, based on the engulfing hug she'd given him when they'd met again on Omega, she felt the same. Everything was right again, better even.

"Garrus? You still with me?" She elbowed him in his side, making him jump.

"What? Sorry, thoughts running away on me." His hand had unconsciously drifted to the scarred side of his face; the bandage still covering most of the damage. "My turn." His eyes skimmed her figure, rising up to her face. He considered his options, not wanting to pick something that would offend her. "Well, your ears are pretty strange, but I'm going to pick… your feet."

"My feet? All right, it's your party." She laughed as she stripped off the fabric casings that covered them, exposing the pale flesh beneath. Leaning back, she stretched her legs out so that her feet were in his lap. "There, go wild." She took a swig of her drink and angled her head to rest it against the back of the couch. "I have to admit, I didn't expect to be spending the night playing 'doctor' with you, but it's kind of fun."

"Playing 'doctor'?"

"You know, you show me yours and I'll show you mine. The clean version… at least at this level of inebriation. I'm feeling pretty happy right about now, don't know about you."

"Very happy." His mandibles relaxed into an expression of contentment as he studied the human feet in his lap. Her toes were tiny and numerous, poking out from the end of each foot, and he couldn't help thinking that the main part of the appendage looked almost larval, not unlike the slugs he used to dig up from the rocks behind the house before leaving them, in copious quantities, inside Solana's shoes.

"You actually walk around on these things?" He touched the tip of each toe, tapping each of her nails with his own, before running a talon experimentally down the sole. To his shock, she recoiled with an explosion of laughter and reflexively tried to pull her feet away.

"Fuck off! That tickles!"

"It does?" He closed his fingers around one of her ankles to prevent her from pulling her foot away. Really? Just when I do this?" With his free hand, he traced down the full length of the underside of her trapped foot.

Shepard crunched inward in a way that would have been impossible for a turian, simultaneously gasping and laughing. "Stop! Stop. You're mean."

"No, this is mean." He attacked the sensitive flesh with all three digits, thinking back to early childhood tussles with Solana. She'd been horribly ticklish, too, which he had regularly exploited for the sheer pleasure of tormenting her.

Shepard shrieked as she tried, once more, to pull away from his onslaught. She could have broken his hold easily but, instead, she lunged forward and attacked his waist with her chilly, little fingers. "Let go!"

He couldn't help flinching away with a huffing laugh of his own. "You'll have to do better than that."

"All right, you asked for it. Remember that." It was an effort to get the words out around gulps of laughter, but she managed.

"Bring it. I can take you. Squishy human." Garrus slid away from her, keeping his grip locked on her ankle.

She launched herself at him, knocking them both off the couch as they landed awkwardly with Shepard sprawled on top of him as he released her foot. "There! I showed you… you, scaly… lizard… guy."

He broke down at that, laughter escaping him in a low rumble. "Scaly lizard guy? Scaly lizard guy? That's the best you can come up with?"

"Yeah, well, it's… accurate. And, also, you suck."

Garrus laughed again, feeling relaxed and happy in a way he hadn't been for a long time. Since… she'd died, really. Now, she was stretched across his chest and it was an effort not to wrap his arms around her and pull her in closer, burying his nose in the sweet smell of her hair. That would be inappropriate—downright idiotic, in fact—so he allowed himself to simply savour the sensation of her body against his and hoped she wouldn't feel the need to move, for a few moments at least.

Shepard inched up, her arms folded as best she could across the rounded top of his carapace and laying her cheek down on top of them as she studied his face thoughtfully; all traces of laughter gone except for the slight tilt to her smile. He tried not to squirm under her gaze, as the intimacy of their position settled over him; simultaneously strange and perfect. "Garrus?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you're here with me. Through all of this. No matter how fucked up everything gets, it's…" She paused, searching for the right words. "Well, I just feel better knowing that you've got my back. Between Cerberus and the Alliance, it's only a matter of time before things go pear shaped—and that's not even counting the Collectors… and the Reapers… Basically, we're already fucked." She chuckled, shaking her head. Despite the chilliness of her hands and feet, her torso was comfortably warm; the weight of her draped over him like a blanket. "No different than every other day of my life when it gets down to it."

"Shepard…" He wanted to brush back the hair that had fallen into her eyes, but settled for putting his hand on her shoulder instead. "There's nowhere I'd rather be." Maybe it was the fact that he was contentedly perched just on the edge of being drunk, but the truth of his words, an echo of the ones he'd spoken when they'd arrived in her cabin, struck him profoundly. Unlike his childhood of constantly butting heads with his father… unlike his time at C-Sec where the politics and bureaucracy had driven him storming out of the office on an almost daily basis… unlike his stint as a vigilante on Omega where crushing bitterness had threatened to pull him under…

There was nowhere he would rather be than right here. With Shepard. Preferably, with Shepard like this; relaxed, happy, and lying on top of him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Well, there's nowhere I'd rather be either, so I guess we're even." Her words filled him with a buoyant sort of elation, eliciting a fierce sensation of protectiveness. Once again, it was hard to keep his arms from sliding up to surround her. He stroked the smooth skin of her shoulder, tracing a small circle with the pad of his finger, marvelling at the unfamiliarity of seeing her without armour, or even in her standard, non-combat fatigues.

Shepard unfurled one arm from beneath her chin, her hand creeping up towards his jaw before she stopped. "Can I?"

Garrus managed an attempt at a shrug that he hoped looked casual enough to disguise the way his heart was suddenly beating faster. "Of course."

Her hand came up to cup around his injured mandible. "Tell me if I'm hurting anything."

"You're not. It feels mostly just tight and itchy now."

She ran her fingers over the bandage that was still protecting his damaged tissue, then the scarred areas where the skin had healed enough to not need the extra protection. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner." Her voice was a whisper; quiet enough that he almost missed the waver in her words.

"You were dead." His gut still clenched to say it out loud, but he forced a huff that could have been mistaken for a laugh. "I think you had a pretty good excuse."

Shepard didn't say anything for a moment, concentrating on her exploration of the ridges and puckers of his barely-healed flesh. "I'm still sorry. If you hadn't made it," her gaze turned hard and steely, "I would have killed every fucking merc on Omega."

"It wouldn't have helped."

Her eyes focused on his. "What wouldn't have helped?"

"Killing everyone." Garrus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It feels good, for a while, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. No matter how many of those bastards I shot, no matter how many people I tried to help… None of it mattered." Her fingers were caressing his wounded mandible and he angled his head into her touch gratefully.

"How can you say it didn't make a difference?" She lifted herself up a little to look at him more easily. "You had Eclipse, the Blood Pack, and the Suns actually working together to try and take you out. Think of how much damage you did to their operations, how many people—"

He stopped her with a shake of his head. "No, none of it mattered." He was glad that she couldn't pick up on the intonations of his subharmonics that were now steeped with grief. "None of it mattered because you were gone." It was impossible to not remember the overwhelming emptiness and anger that had permeated his very being, like a beast clawing its way out of his chest. "You were gone, and I eventually realized that nothing I was doing was ever going change that. "

"I'm here now." Her eyes were watery; a single tear trailing silently down her cheek.

"I know." He gave in and wrapped his arms around her, unable to hold back the well of emotion that finally crested inside of him. He hoped that she'd just chalk up his actions to an excessive amount of alcohol on both their parts by the time the morning cycle arrived—if she even remembered it at all. "I know you're here now, and I'm going to make sure it stays that way this time."

She settled into his embrace, her cheek against his chest, and he nuzzled the top of her head as he breathed in her scent. His fringe was angled uncomfortably against the floor, but there was no way that he was going to move—even if her legs hadn't been tangled in his. What were the odds that he'd ever find himself in this situation again? He certainly wasn't about to waste even a single minute of the opportunity.


A/N: Giant, super squishy hugs for my wonderful beta, Josie Lange, for putting up with me constantly sending her chapters... and then second guessing myself and re-sending them to her, hours later, with more changes. Thank you. Truly. :)

Thank you so very much to everyone out there reading for your incredible support, too. Giant, super squishy hugs for everyone!