Just a quick note to any Mass Effect authors reading this: if you haven't already, check your story tags for Shepard. Reader Debblu brought to my attention yesterday that F. Shepard tags have all changed to J. Garson. (M. Shepard appears to have switched to simply "Shepard".) Upon checking to see what happened, I found the all-purpose unisex category 'Shepard.'

-J-

"Kaidan…" Shepard trailed off, half-smiling as Alenko marched into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. She was feeling better today, and was looking forward to a meal whose taste was not affected by the painkillers. She was still stiff, but had been pronounced fit to being shore leave, and to leave the house.

"So, what have we here…?" he produced two bottles—one a basic beer, the other an Astro-Fizz—which he opened and held out to her. "Your favorite."

Shepard chuckled, took the bottle and, still smiling, let him clink his beer bottle against it. "So, what have we here?" she leaned on the counter, eyeing him speculatively.

"Let's see, we have beer," Alenko began solemnly.

"And Astro-Fizz," Shepard put in, taking a sip.

"And bacon."

"Everything is better with bacon."

Alenko nodded his agreement. "And we have beef."

She watched other ingredients come out of the fridge without further comment. "So wait, what, I'm supposed to just watch you cook?" Shepard asked, smirking. She had no intention of sitting about and waiting for dinner. In fact—and she could not blame a beer buzz for it—she felt rather kittenish. Maybe it was the clarity in her head today.

"No," Alenko responded, dicing up garlic with a speed that made Shepard wince. True, the pieces weren't even close to all being even, but the facility of the work was impressive. "You're supposed to help me drink the…drinks."

Shepard snickered. She couldn't very well help him drink the beer. "If you're not afraid of my cooties, you can have some of mine." She nudged the bottle closer to him.

Alenko smirked at her, looking away from the pan in which the garlic was browning. "I'm not afraid of your cooties. But I don't want brain cancer, either."

"Kaidan?"

"Hmm?"

"You're scorching the garlic."

Alenko looked down, lifted the pan off the unit and shook it, tossing the garlic an inch or so off the hot metal as a means of damage control. "Well, I'm distracted."

Shepard prowled around to stand by his shoulder. "By?"

Alenko's eyes slid over to where she stood, eyebrows arched but a wicked smile playing around her mouth. "I wonder."

"I could help, you know," Shepard remarked, edging closer to him until they stood side by side. She wasn't close enough to touch him unless he decided he needed to move his left arm—and since he was left-handed…

"You like to cook?"

Shepard considered. "I…know how. O'Conner obsessed over my pancakes. It's what we did on Saturdays. I'd make pancakes and she'd…goof off for my amusement. I don't really like cooking for one, though."

"Then maybe you'll handle dessert?" Alenko responded blandly.

"I don't know about that, but I could probably come up with something for after supper." She didn't look to see what reaction her twisting of words garnered. "What about you? I've never seen garlic minced so fast by anyone not in a professional setting."

"Believe it or not, that was one thing they taught us at Jump Zero."

"Oh?" Shepard's brows furrowed and she moved when Alenko elbowed her several times, indicating he needed earnest use of an arm he previously allowed her to hamper.

"A biotic who can't cook for himself risks starving. High caloric intake, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," Shepard responded, "It just didn't seem like something they'd be willing to teach."

"One of the few bright sides I could give my mom afterwards: at least she didn't always have to worry about what was for dinner. Any time I didn't volunteer she could say 'My Kaidan,'" Shepard found the imitation of his mother's soft tone and accent was startlingly accurate, "'if you were in a doing mood what would you do for dinner?'"

"And what would you say?" Shepard asked, biting her lip. An image in her mind kept recurring, of her own parents in their own kitchen, jointly preparing (so they said) a meal. At the time, she'd felt it seemed like a lot of flirting for people who needed their minds on where their knives were.

"I'd usually say 'I'll go have a look and get back to you.'"

Shepard stepped up behind him, peering around one shoulder as he worked.

"Don't distract the chef," Alenko admonished in mock severity.

It must, Shepard concluded, be a universal parent thing. She'd heard her father say it more than one in that exact tone of voice. "Is that an objection?"

"I like this kitchen. Except for when stuff is constantly underfoot."

"Well, I don't have anything else to do," Shepard returned innocently. "Unless it's like Joker told EDI."

"What did Joker tell EDI—or do I really want to know?" Alenko asked nervously.

"He said, what was it…? 'Having her in visual range improved his morale.'"

"Hm. This beef could use a morale boost…" Alenko said, more seriously as he poked it. "Glad I'm not doing anything insanely fancy…"

Shepard slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. "How's morale now?"

"A little better, but it could be a lot better if…" he reached around and with some difficulty (owing to the hot pan in his left hand) managed to loop his arm around her and pulled her to stand in front of him. "Okay, you can help. I need your right hand."

Shepard leaned back against his chest, holding out her right hand. "Right hand reporting for duty."

Alenko chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest as he snaked an arm around her waist. She tangled the fingers of her free hand with his, enjoying the physical closeness.

"Now this I could get used to," Alenko kissed the side of her head. "Very quickly."

"And to think I wanted to drag you out for barbecue. This is much better."

The silence that followed was smug.

After working in instruction-punctuated silence for some time Shepard closed her eyes. "I love you, Kaidan."

Alenko did not speak, but placed a tender kiss on her neck.