Jeff yawned and reached for his coffee mug, frowning when he realized that it was empty. Stretching, he winced at the way his shoulder protested. Probably from sitting still for too long, he rationalized, trying his best to rotate his arm in a way that wouldn't hurt too much. He paused mid-stretch when his omni-tool pinged.
[Shepard, J.]: Your shift ended four hours ago. And before you ask how I know you're still up there, EDI told me.
He threw a sour look towards EDI's console. Of course it would have to snitch on him. The monitor flicked on and the AI impassively stared back.
"What are you, my keeper?" he grunted.
"It is important that you rest, Mr. Moreau. Lack of sleep will slow your judgment and reaction times. I am programmed to alert Commander Shepard of any issues that arise within her staff."
"Yeah, yeah. Stop picking on me already, Thing." Turning his attention back to his omni-tool, he wrote out a reply.
[Moreau, J.]: Can't sleep. Thought I'd be productive instead.
[Shepard, J.]: EDI says that you haven't done anything but sit for 14.7 minutes. I'd say your productivity is hurting.
[Shepard, J.]: Can't sleep either. Want to come up and be unproductive together?
He smirked. [Moreau, J.]: Careful, Commander. It almost sounds like you're inviting me up to your place to look at your etchings.
[Moreau, J.]: Give me a few minutes, but I'll be up.
[Shepard, J.]: That's what she said.
[Moreau, J.]: Ooh, classy. What are you, twelve?
[Shepard, J.]: You started it with the "etchings" bit.
[Shepard, J.]: Anyway, see you in a few.
After calling up his relief pilot, Jeff made his way towards the elevator. Instead of using the intercom next to her cabin door to request entry, he used the old "shave and a haircut" knock on the metal, smiling when she used the two-knock "two bits" reply before opening the door.
"Just be glad I didn't ask you up here for a cup of coffee," she said by way of a greeting, moving aside so he could go down the stairs first.
He looked disappointed. "Aww, but you know that do you want to come up for coffee is the universal green light for extracurricular activities."
She put her hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. "Really, Joker."
He shrugged. "Hey, a guy can hope, right?" Yawning again, he scratched at the back of his neck. "Even though an actual cup of coffee sounds pretty good right about now." He sank down on the couch and fought the temptation to kick his feet up on the nearby table.
"No, sleep sounds good right about now. Caffeine would just make you jittery." She watched as he tried to contain a hiss of pain when he moved to throw his arm around the back of the sofa. "Is your shoulder okay?"
He was too busy appreciating the way she looked in the blue light of her aquarium to work up an answer. It seemed as if she had tried to go to sleep; she was wearing a black tank top and a pair of nearly indecently short running shorts. Her hair was loose and looked slightly rumpled, like she had run her fingers through it repeatedly. A thought ran through his head: Shepard sprawled across her bed, her eyes half-lidded and her mouth tugged in a sultry smile as she invited him to join her. He blinked, surprised at how quickly his brain had drifted off into the gutter. "Yeah," he said, finally answering her. "Just a little tight. So, how are we going to be unproductive?"
She sat beside him and tucked her legs underneath her. Now that she was closer, he could see the dark circles under her eyes. He wondered if she was having nightmares again; she'd mentioned it offhandedly the other day when she caught him wandering around the Mess after the late shift. She hadn't elaborated on what they were about, but he wondered just how often she had them and if they were the reason she was up nearly as late as he was most nights.
He didn't know what bothered him more: the fact that she looked like she was running ragged or the fact that he was so worried about her running ragged.
"We never got around to watching The Princess Bride together. I figured we could do it now that we both have some time to spare." She eyed him. "That is, unless you want to watch something else."
He shook his head. "No, that's a good one to see." In that two-year absence, he'd tried to watch the movie, but wound up turning it off before the opening scene finished. It hadn't seemed right to see it without her. Relaxing against the sofa cushions while she called up the movie and had it projected onto the table in front of them, he suddenly tensed when he felt her fingers at his back.
"Wow, you've got some crazy knots going on here," she commented.
He immediately went on the defensive. No one got close to him; he practically had a sign hanging around his neck that said "do not touch" in big, bold letters. He didn't like anyone thinking that he was fragile or needy or, or shit, different than a normal person. "You don't have…" he started, the snappish tone he had meant to say it in coming out sounding strangled instead. Damn it, why did she have to work her way under his carefully built defenses? Why did he let her get so close when he usually pushed other people away? Why…
"I know that I don't have to, and I'm sorry if I crossed a line," she said quietly. "But you mean a lot to me, Jeff. I can see that you're hurting and I want to help." She looked up at him, his hat casting shadows over his features. It seemed as if he was having an internal debate with himself, but eventually he gave the tiniest of nods that she took as a sign to continue.
"Let me know if I do anything that hurts," she murmured, shifting so that she was facing him. She hadn't been lying about the knots that she had found at his shoulder, her fingers kneading his muscles until she felt each of them loosen.
Joker leaned into her touch, the warmth of her hands sinking deep into his bones. Wordlessly, she turned him so she could continue across his back, paying attention to what made him tense and what made him sigh in relief. She found out that right where the back of his neck joined his shoulder was where he kept the majority of his stress – he'd let out a low, involuntary moan when she finally unwound a pocket of long-held tension there. She also found out that rubbing the spot directly behind his right ear close to his jaw made him melt backwards against her, his body stretching out like a cat. Or a big dog, she thought with a smile, holding herself back from running her hands down his chest now that he was reclining in her arms. While she had originally offered the rubdown to help ease his tired muscles, Juliana hadn't taken into account the almost hypnotic effect the simple act of touching him had on her. The further he leaned back against her, the closer she inched forward. Every pass of her hands made her wish that there wasn't the barrier of his uniform between them.
She'd been attracted to him long before she had died. While she might question everything about herself since coming back: her newfound cybernetics, the scars that couldn't decide to heal properly or not, her morality suddenly veering from the straight and narrow; the one thing, the only constant that she kept from her time before was how she felt about him. The only way that those feelings had changed was that they had deepened over time; moving from simple attraction to friendship to this new something that she was almost afraid to name for fear that it would slide out of her grasp.
It was far too late in the day to poke at those feelings further. Tucking them away for future study, she decided to enjoy the moment. Juliana draped her arms around him in a backwards hug. "Better?" she asked, moving her thumbs in slow circles over his collarbone.
He reached up and stroked her wrist. She'd effectively turned his brain into mush. "Mmm hmm," he managed to slur out, his eyes drooping. "Thanks."
She yawned. "You're welcome." The heat that radiated off his body was quickly making her drowsy. "Any chance of getting a return massage in the future?"
He shifted until his back was against the cushions. It took very little maneuvering for Shepard to curl up against his side, her head on his shoulder. "Chances are good," he replied, the last word stretching out as he yawned.
Why do I let her get so close? he asked himself, his fingers idly running through strands of her hair. It was the first time that he'd done such a thing and he realized that her hair was even softer than he thought it would be. Because it feels damn good to have her here, that's why. She drifted off first, if her breathing was anything to go by. Propping his feet on the table, he quickly followed.
The screen in front of them winked out of sight, neither of them having watched a single minute of the movie.