Lying beside you, here in the dark

Feeling your heart beat with mine

Softly you whisper, you're so sincere

How could our love be so blind

We sailed on together

We drifted apart

And here you are, by my side"

Journey, Open Arms

When they stepped out of the elevator, she put her arms around him.

"So, I gotta be honest," he said as Shepard held him close. "Before… when I was being an ass, I said I'd been thinking about the whole you and me thing all day. And that was true," he said, and pulled back from her just enough to look into her eyes. He sounded serious. Something in his tone told her he'd been going over these words. "The thing is… I've been thinking about you and me for a lot longer… and that's why I got all weird at you. I guess seeing some of that stuff down on Omega made me realise… " Unable to hold her gaze, he trailed off as he looked to the side, towards her quarters. Shepard unclasped her hands from around the small of his back and went to the doors. Once inside, she looked back toward him.

As he stepped through after her, he cleared his throat. "So, you said what's going on between us is up to me. What I was gonna say before is that, well… I want you. To myself, in a way. I mean, with less vampire brain sucking? Probably? But, you know, I'm open to ideas," he said with a lop-sided smile.

She sidled up to him and picked up where she left off. As she stroked down his arms, the tension in his muscles betrayed his casual tone of voice. "I think I can promise you much less vampirism, yes," she said.

"I figured, but hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it, that's my motto." She felt him relax.

"Did you really think I was going to say no to you?"

"I dunno, I was kind of a dick earlier."

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. "I'm not going to throw you out the airlock just because you said something I didn't like, remember?" She smiled. "You've saved my life more times than I can count. You mean so much to me. You're worth a misunderstanding or two."

It was as though her words busted some kind of dam. As he kissed her, he explored; his lips moved first to her cheek, then to the soft skin of her neck before travelling back up. With her arms around him, she soaked in the warmth from where their bodies touched. Almost as if her hands had a will of their own, she traced a path across him and felt all down his sides, enjoying the taper of his broad shoulders down to his waist. So close to him, she took in how he carried the scent of soap and something faintly spicy - whatever it was, it was good.

Shepard returned his kisses and found she couldn't think, could only do as a fire ignited within her. Doing meant taking his hand and leading him to the bed. It meant laying him down and sliding herself over his lap, watching how much weight she let down onto him. When he broke their kiss for breath, he swallowed hard, and as she brushed herself up against him she felt an entirely different kind of hardness pressed up against her. This was just the response she wanted. She tugged on the soft fabric sides of his uniform, urging him on, wanting to feel his skin against her own. His fingers felt like ice as he pulled her undershirt free from her belt. Shepard shrugged her garments off and tossed them to one side. She caught his eyes as she slid the straps of her bra over her round shoulders before she stopped just to admire him; to really see him in the moment. All the times she'd imagined looking down at him beneath her in this way paled in comparison to the real thing. He looked up at her with those bright green eyes, desire and nervousness plain within them. As she dropped her bra onto the floor, she noticed all that enticing rigidity she'd felt just a second before was gone from him. His embarrassment was writ large across his face and he didn't look as if he knew what to do with his hands. She slowed down to give him a moment, and eventually he settled for resting them on her waist. Now that she had most of her clothes off, he seemed a little paralysed, or intimidated. Perhaps both.

"I really, really want to, I'm just, uh…"

"It's alright," she said softly, remembering his inexperience. "It doesn't always work like the movies. Trust me."

He nodded. At some point she must have turned the lights off, because he lay painted in the dancing blues of the aquarium. The warm glow of a lamp on the night-table picked out all the edges and lines that made him up. Shepard drank in the sight as she undid his belt, found the zipper for the front of his uniform, and took great pleasure in parting the thick vinyl plating away. She added his top to the pile of clothing on the floor. Joker's body was not as steely and defined as that of a super-soldier, but she found him gorgeous all the same; lean and trim, with gentle swells of muscle that just begged to be kissed and explored. Moreover, his hands were not those of a marine. He didn't spend his days holding a gun and dragging himself through rough terrain; he moved precisely across data screens, easing and fine-tuning as he plotted an intricate course through space, and his hands swept across her in much the same gentle way.

Her pants slid down over her hips, exposing curves he couldn't stop stroking. When he sought to push more fabric aside, to feel out still hidden parts of her with his fingers, she couldn't help but give him a little, breathy sound of encouragement. His lips locked with hers, his mouth insistent and seeking. With every sound she made, he pressed up from beneath her; this seemed to be the key to making him forget his nerves. When he pulled her even closer, his grip was somewhat harder than she expected from him.

"Jeff," she whispered in his ear as she touched her hips to him. His reaction was instant and instinctual as he strained up against her. She smiled. "Take your damn pants off?" she asked with a hint of playfulness. She'd never seen him respond to something so quick and kissed his warm cheeks as he fussed about with fulfilling her request. He gripped her thighs and his eyes tracked her hand as she swept from his chest down his stomach and beyond. He twitched at her touch, and his involuntary push up into her hand made her bite her lip in anticipation. This was what she wanted; he was what she wanted.

The soft, wordless groan that escaped him as their bodies joined was sweeter than any of the countless times she'd imagined it. It felt right, felt good to have him physically be the closest to her that he could ever be. Shepard thrived on the pleasure of her partner. Nothing thrilled her more than seeing how she made him feel and it was all there in his furrowed brow, the tremble of his arms and the way he curved himself, though he had to hold back how hard he met her. He couldn't move in quite the way he wanted to at first and this was evident in the frustrated sound he made as he bit his lip. When he moved, she then mirrored him, still letting him control the pace and pressure - something he was escalating a little fast. He lost his cadence, a beautiful urgency overtook him and he forced a sharp breath out through his clenched teeth. His eyes squeezed shut and the rest of him locked up with a blissful moan. As the seconds passed and he slowly returned to himself, he blinked and gave her a look so sheepish, she couldn't help but smile and lean down to kiss his cheeks.

"Don't worry," she said softly as she lay down next to him, pulling one side of the duvet over them to avoid the chill of the room. She tucked her chin onto his shoulder and held his arm to her chest. "It's pretty normal to pop your chaff a little quicker than you expect the first time."

"Heh. Well, what about you, though?"

"What about me? I got what I wanted… for now," she said with something of a sultry purr. There would be time to teach him all about her in a little while… Right now, as she looked at him, she wanted him to enjoy that thick, tingling warmth she knew he must be feeling and just live in those few moments afterwards where everything feels good.

He gazed up at the skylight above them, his eyes half-closed and tracking the wisps of mass effect darting over the stars. After a long silence, he asked, "Man, what'd I do to deserve you?"

"You were the best damn helmsman in the Alliance fleet," she said through a yawn, and kissed his shoulder. "And then everything else that came after."

"Bailie?" he asked and turned his head to look at her.

"Mmm?" she murmured in reply.

"I… " He looked back up. "Ah… Nothin'," he said.

"Nothing yourself." She nestled up close, keeping herself next to rather than on him. She would have liked to lay her leg and arm across him, but it would take time and practise to learn his fragile body's limits. She cuddled his arm to her and played with his fingers, splaying them delicately. Shepard closed her eyes a moment, thought about the SR1 and the first time she'd noticed just how handsome her pilot was. It was an otherwise fleeting, inconsequential moment; he'd turned and looked up towards her, complaining about something or other and cracked a wry grin. The bridge's orange lights caught his eyes and the edges of his features in a similar way that her night-table lamp did now. She reached up and stroked his cheek, fiddling with his bristly beard. "Thanks for letting me in," she said softly.

A mischievous smile lit up his face. "Uh, actually, I'm pretty sure that's what I should be saying to you."

"Yes," she said amid a laugh. She put her palm to the left side of his chest. "But I meant here."

"Oh. Yeah, you're lucky I don't charge. I could probably bankrupt you with all the back-rent." His fingertips brushed lightly up and down her arm, and the sensation gave her goosebumps. He watched this reaction with some interest before he disentangled himself from her and painstakingly rearranged to lie on his side. She liked the scratch of his whiskers as he kissed her cheek and neck. His hand followed the contours of her body, stopping to press and knead and feel her in ways that captured her attention.

"What are you up to?" she asked as she felt his kisses get a little more insistent, a little more toothy. The rasp of his teeth to her neck made every nerve in her entire body react, something that seemed to give him no end of delight.

"Eh, I'm not a charity case… I don't take without giving something back…" He said with a smile and slid his hand between her thighs. She parted her knees, eager for his touch. After not much guidance at all, the odd slight correction or readjustment, Shepard felt as though he could intuit the kind of touch she needed almost before she did. He had good instincts on how and where to tease, and it wasn't long before she arched her back, her breath halting and ragged. At the last second, his touch lost all pressure and motion. She made a frustrated noise and bucked her hips up into his hand in a futile effort. This was met only by the sensation of his hot breath against her skin in a voiceless laugh. Her whole body shook as he touched her again - slowly, lightly - keeping her so close to what she needed without ever letting her spill over.

It was infuriating - he had no right to be this good, and even less to keep her riding the line. After a while, he had her so wound up that with just a few tiny movements she gasped and writhed. With his body pressed up tight against her she felt just how much he enjoyed this little game of keeping her at his mercy.

She shuddered in desperation and through the slyest, most audacious smile she'd ever seen in her life, he said, "Go on, ask me for it if you want it so bad." The thrill of it shone in his eyes. He built her up again and all she wanted was for him not to stop. She gripped the sheets, knowing she couldn't grab him that hard. When she cried out in delicious, sweet frustration she felt him grind his hips against her in response, teasing himself too.

"Please," she whispered, breathless. He could deny her again and she knew it. From his wide smile she could tell he was relishing her pleading look, drawing it out and she couldn't stand it, her body couldn't take the tease anymore. "Jeff, please!"

The truth was, being denied felt a little good, too. It was all good. He didn't stop, letting the pressure rise inside her to the point of no return. Shepard's back lifted into an arc, her legs shook, she couldn't control anything as ecstasy took hold. Having been on the edge for so long, finally tipping over was enough to make her attempt at his name just an inarticulate moan. He kept at her, slow and gentle even as she squirmed, just enough to keep her riding through it. When at last she sank back down to the mattress, she felt as though she had just been tossed ashore by a colossal wave that tingled all around her as it drained away; back into the only sea she wished she could drown in.

/ / / / / /

He knew what beauty was; the pursuit of it was part of what drove him to fly. He had seen countless golden sunrises light up the horizon on a thousand different worlds. He had been to nebulas that hung like paintings across unimaginable distances. Yet, all the glittering stars and swirling colours in the dark couldn't compare to what he saw in her when she closed her eyes for him. The game of it all was fun, but the reward was overwhelming; the way she parted her lips and gasped, surrendered herself, so beautiful and so alive.

As she lay bare before him, every breath she drew made his chest tighten with all the things he hadn't let himself feel in the years she'd been gone. That she forgave him with words didn't matter; he was seeing her - really seeing her - for the first time since her return. He had to be a part of that, had to give her the only thing he could to make it right; himself.

It wasn't just a want that made him caress and kiss and encourage her to shift herself, let him be with her a second time. It was a need. Physically it was a need so powerful it almost hurt, soothed only by sinking deep into the heat of her body. A sweet, fiery sensation flowed up through him as their hips met. Nothing ever felt so good, so right than to be inside her. It felt like every moment he wasn't this close with her, some part of his heart was seeking to be. Now that he was, instinct took over. She looked so perfect, every curve in stark relief against the watery blue light over her shoulder. Each time she took him, her body had this way of gripping him that felt so good it threatened to drive him mad. The sounds she made when he filled her up inside were almost enough on their own. Even pacing himself to protect his weak ribs against overexertion couldn't stop the pressure rising from within. He wanted to slow down, to savour it, but didn't know how - not when it felt like this, when he needed her so much. He ached to just let go and slam against her, make her whole body quiver with the force of how hard he wanted her to have him. He grit his teeth. Risked pushing it, only a little, little bit. Anything to get across to her even a fraction of what he felt inside. When he heard her gasp in surprise and passionate delight, he couldn't hold back. He rocketed over the edge. Though he couldn't clamp down on her as hard as he wanted to, he gave it his best effort. Gave her everything he had in him to give. It was the kind of relief that made his toes curl and body shudder like the hull in a solar storm. He was left panting and pleasantly empty. It was good they were already lying on their sides, because when sense returned to him, it was easy to wrap around her back and hold her close. He kissed the nape of her neck over and over, breathing as hard as he could allow himself.

A powerful haze descended on him. It shrouded his mind like a blanket, blocking off all his thoughts. Nothing else mattered except him and Shepard. He couldn't even be sure that anything existed past the boundaries of the mattress. This heavy, fuzzy feeling of completion was much more intense than anything he'd ever felt on his own. She looked up over her shoulder at him, a soft smile on her features. As he stroked up and down her shoulder, the pleasant, sleepy feeling made it hard to keep his eyes open. After a moment, he didn't try to fight it anymore and just lay back.

"Hey, where'd your hat get to in all this?" she asked.

He grinned, his eyes closed. "No clue, and if that's not an indication of a good time… I dunno what is."

"Ah," she said, and leaned off the bed. "Here it is." She cuddled back up to him with the cap in her hands and slowly turned it to and fro. Through a yawn, she said, "It seems like yesterday your hat was blue." She shook her head and made a vague noise of disapproval as she brushed something off a white part. "Do you ever wash this thing?"

"It's a hat, it doesn't need washing."

"Well, that's not true."

"It is. If you want it to be lucky, anyway. I used to wash the old one, and just look at what happened."

"Hmm. I miss the blue. At least it would hide the dirt better."

"Mm, I guess," he murmured, and lay his head on her chest. He listened to her heart. The steady sound was calming. "It was a good one," he said after a while. "Don't have it anymore though."

"No?"

"I left it with you," he mumbled. He felt so warm and comfortable, like he could say anything. "At the Citadel. Probably still there."

"What do you mean?"

Half asleep, the soothing sensation of her fingers combing through his hair encouraged him to keep talking. "On your birthday. April. Had my hearing that day. Alliance told me I couldn't fly anymore… I went to your memorial stone and I left it with you… I went there a lot."

"Oh, Jeff…" she said. Hearing her say his name in such a tender way inspired a soft smile that faded quickly.

"I wanted to leave it at the big service but… uh, there were too many people," he said. He recalled Kaidan's red-rimmed eyes glaring at him and the awkward, forced civility between them at the event. Joker couldn't be sure, but at the time it felt like a deliberate, concerted effort in the way his former friend crowded him out, guarding the coffin and keeping him from having a moment like everyone else. Kaidan's righteous fury was so quiet and yet so palpable that there may as well have been a hundred of him standing between Joker and getting to say goodbye. Kaidan's look said it all. He was in no position to argue about it, and spent the entire time staring at the floor in silence. The only night I've ever been actually properly drunk, he thought as he remembered the rest of that evening as just a queasy blur. Surprised I still have a liver at all after that… Actually I probably wouldn't if it hadn't been for Chakwas. He blinked as the memory surfaced.

"I know you do, Jeff. We all do," said the doctor, all dressed in black. She sighed as she helped him to sit up.

"No you don't get it, nobody gets it," he wailed. "You don't understand. I do, I always did! And I let her die, I let her die, I let her die," he sobbed. She rubbed between his shoulders like his mother used to do when he was small.

Chakwas took the nearly empty bottle from his hand and inspected it. "Right. Jeffrey, pay attention, this is important. How many of these have you had?"

"I dunno. Five. Eight. What?"

"You're still speaking, so I doubt it's eight," she said. She sighed again. "It's very likely you'll break a rib if you vomit this up… Let's get you to my office."

He squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach roiled. "No. It's too late. It should be me in there. In the box. Aw, she's in a fucking box," he cried.

"Come now, up off the floor. This is not dignified. You'll get your arm infected."

"Good. Don't care."

"No, I don't suppose you do, but I daresay she would," Chakwas said, her matronly tone never failing. "She cared a great deal for you. The least you can do is preserve yourself on her account."

Chastened for a moment, he didn't even have it in him to protest when the older woman pulled a black handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at his tears.

"If I throw up, I'll… " he started, but then the nausea hit, making him close his eyes. " …Break ribs." He fell silent. His saliva suddenly tasted metallic and much too sweet.

Joker cringed inwardly. It only got worse after that. Man, did I ever apologise for that? Actually, that probably seems like the kind of thing you just agree to never mention again.

"You know, everybody's been so… polite about the fact that I came back? I suppose?" Shepard mused.

Hearing her voice brought him back out of the memory. "Uh. Hmm? Huh?"

"I kind of figured I'd have to field some sort of awkward questions about the afterlife from somebody, but it never happened."

"Oh. Um. Yeah. Well, we were coached. At least, the crew was. Okay, I was."

"On what to say to me?"

"Kinda… more like what not to say to you." He looked up at her. "Miranda had some really weird ideas on what might make you freak out."

"That actually makes a lot of sense," she said and smiled. "I'm not sure I'd know how to deal with me, either."

"She told me not to crack any zombie jokes, for one," he said and lay his head back down on her chest, wanting to hear her steady beat again. "Imagine her face when I told her that you'd be the one to crack 'em first."

"I do look pretty good for a member of the legion of the undead, it must be said." She gestured with one hand as if to show him a vid title. "Night of the Living Shepard."

"Oh yeah, you said you watch old vids too, huh? Like old old? The ones before Holo-Three-D." He imagined her curled on a couch, watching the grainy, low-resolution images so characteristic of 20th century filmography flicker past. It wasn't hard to picture.

"Remember when you were talking about movies with EDI, and I said some of my favourites were box office bombs? Well, zombies, vampires, monsters, horrors… you name it, I've seen them all." She chuckled. "Growing up, my friends used to call them B-movies… as in, Bailie Movies, because you bet if it was my turn to pick, it'd be a slasher or something."

"Something else we have in common. Stay up all night, watch old movies, save the universe."

Her fingertips returned to tracing patterns through his hair and she was quiet for a moment. "I don't think I'm in the mood for those lately, though. Not after what I saw on that ship."

"Yeah… it sounded like a mess down there. Are you… you know. Okay?" he asked. Her silence spoke volumes, and he hoped she drew some comfort from his squeeze.

"There was a huge pile of people down there. Just… just parts," she said. He felt her shake her head. "I've seen bodies before, but not like that," she said. Her heartbeat sped up.

"I heard you and Garrus talking about them, yeah."

"One of them looked like you." She said, and swallowed. "And… being on the same ship that killed me last time has brought up some things for me."

"Like what?" he asked.

She rolled to face him and lay at eye level. "Well, I died, and for the most part, people treat me as if it never happened," she said, her finger rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "Sometimes, it feels like it's only real to me."

"Oh, it's… uh, definitely on the real side of things to me, too." He studied the slice missing from her right eyebrow and the bright green of her eyes as he searched for the right words. "Maybe I'm off track… but I notice you worry about this sometimes. Like, you try reminding yourself of it," he said. He reached up and traced part of the line of her old scar, across the bridge of her nose and down onto her cheek. "It's kinda hard to see now, but it's still there… you haven't lost anything."

She took his hand in hers and clasped it. Her eyes brimmed with tears that she blinked away before they ever fell. "Thank you."

"Where'd you get that, anyway? I always assumed a Thresher Maw did some landscaping on you."

She sighed. "I did get it on Akuze. It's strange, I don't like to think about Akuze much, but the scar it left me with ended up being an important part of me."

"I'm surprised you never did pick up a krogan boyfriend with that attitude on face scars," he said. "Why's it so important?"

"It reminds me I can get through anything. Besides, it ruined my career prospects as a model, so I had to make it mean something." She said and sniffed.

"Well, it's still there. And hey, after all this is over, you wanna go hawk combat underwear or something, I'll take your headshots for you. You can count on me."

"I know I can," she said. "I guess… time heals all wounds."

He smiled. "Unless you're a drell," he said softly.

She laughed even as she touched her palms to her eyes. "Yes, unless you're a drell."

"As for the thing you said before," he said, and paused. "About… the afterlife, or whatever? Well… I think it's just a club on Omega… and if it was anything more than that, you'd have already made a whole lotta noise about it by now."

Shepard's brow furrowed. "This is all we have, as far as I know," she said. Her eyes filled with determination. "If anything, it makes what we're doing that much more important."

He kissed her forehead. "Maybe there actually is an afterlife, and you just forgot because they kicked you out for taking the place over. I wouldn't be surprised, you know."

She said nothing in response, just drew up close to him and touched her head to his chest. His eyelids weighed a tonne. There was no need to move. Nowhere to go, for the moment. He looked down and watched Shepard's sides rise and fall, felt her soft breath disturb the hairs on his chest. He wanted to sink into this feeling, but being this close to another person unguarded was an act of trust he needed to think carefully about. Just lazing around was one thing, but to be asleep and unable to defend himself was another. Was she a fitful sleeper? Would she just lie on him suddenly and risk breaking something?

"Shepard?" he breathed, just above her ear. No response. He put his hand on her shoulder, but as he looked down at her, he couldn't quite bring himself to shake her awake. The thought of getting up and leaving for his hard little bunk seemed painful as well as absurd. She looked so peaceful. Her skin felt silky beneath his hand and he just rubbed little circles on her shoulder with his thumb instead. "Please, don't break me, okay?" he whispered. He let his hand drop to the mattress and closed his eyes.

/ / / / / /

Shepard's body clock rarely made mistakes. Gradually she became aware of Joker's arm around her, his chest against her back. His slow, deep breathing told her he was still fast asleep. She knew better than to open her eyes and ruin the moment. Shepard had been sleeping so deeply that, at first, her head felt strange, almost dizzy. The keenness of a well-rested mind was a sensation she hadn't felt in years and she took her sweet time to appreciate that, for once, she didn't feel tired. It was nice, too, to wake up being held. On her own, she would already have rolled free of the sheets and dropped for push ups. But, not this time. Shepard extricated herself from the tangle of his limbs just enough to turn over and look at him. He didn't so much as stir. There was no sound except for the low rumble of the ship around them. As she watched him in the dim light of her cabin, all wrapped up in her sheets and lost in slumber, with a sharp pang in her chest she realised; there was nothing and no one in the galaxy she wanted to protect more than him.

The thought of all those poor, twisted souls on the Collector ship invaded her mind. Each one of their broken bodies represented someone's lost dreams. Each one was somebody's missing child, parent, friend or lover. The sight of it made her stomach churn, stopping her in her tracks; half hanging out of the pile, one of those corpses' resemblance to Joker was uncanny. Such a bloodied, wretched spectacle was seared into her memory. Its unseeing eyes, milky and covered in a thin sheen of frost haunted her the most. The actual Joker lay in her bed, bathed in starlight, and just breathing as if it were the easiest thing. As if life wasn't some tragically fragile spark that could be wrenched out of him at any moment. The Reapers were coming.

Shepard swept her fingers through his hair and down his cheek. "Wake up," she whispered. "It's morning."

He stirred. "… Mm, alarm hasn't gone off yet…" He mumbled, his voice cracked with sleep.

She smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead. "It will, in about three minutes. Up."

"Oh…?" He yawned and opened one eye into just a slit. "Sounds like a three-minutes-from-now kinda problem to me…" The warmth of his hand on her arm was seductive and the gentle tension behind his grip asked her to stay. "Aw, come on…I've thought about waking up next to you every day for ages… Gimme two minutes to enjoy it?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but decided against it. There wasn't any way she was refusing that.

"You don't snore or even move when you're asleep," he mumbled with a note of surprise. "That's kinda good for me… I was sorta afraid you might roundhouse me in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream." She sank back into his embrace. He added, "On the other hand, I did think you'd just up and died on me like twice, so there's that."

"Mmm," she replied, lost in thought. Shepard lay coiled in his arms, mind whirring with thoughts of the dead Reaper. It was somewhere drifting out there in the void, a little black box hidden inside it that would carry her straight into the heart of their plans. Inside it was the key to trying to make sure they all survived. Supposedly. Doing another little errand for the Illusive Man did not appeal to her.

Sourly, she envisaged the Illusive Man, sitting as usual in his glass office. Doubtless, he would be as he always was; dressed in a clean suit, a cigarette hanging between his fingers, and a smug grin plastered across his face as he looked out at a nearby star. Probably hoping that they ran headlong into the thing at FTL and just blew up. That prick, she thought. Coward can't even talk to me in person. She recalled his sputtered excuses in the briefing room not ten minutes after she'd dragged herself aboard, still stanching blood that oozed from her overworked leg. He'd tried to hide his look of shock but Shepard was too focused on every twitch he made not to notice. He was so disgusting, she'd half expected him to burst apart at the seams and spill maggots everywhere. She stiffened as she pictured him reaching over and tapping his ashes into his little tray. He was perfectly content to sit back in his secret location and play her like a card. I'm going to get that box, and I'm going to shove it so far up his ass that -

Fingertips scratched pleasantly at the back of her neck. "You okay?" asked Joker, a little more awake than before.

"I'm thinking about what to do today."

"Yeah, you look like you're about ready to punch a hole in the hull. I kinda… really like it when you look like that," he said and smiled. She returned it; focussing on him was far more appealing than thinking about that loathsome Illusive Man for even one second longer. Joker ran his hand all the way down her side, pausing over the curve of her hip. "You might wanna get some pants on first if you plan on fighting any crime today, though."

"I don't know, technically this is a civilian ship."

"Well, if you're looking for me to actually argue in favour of you putting on clothes, you've come to the wrong guy. I figure I've done my duty by suggesting it."