Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belong to BioWare.
Author's Note: This story does not necessarily follow any particular timeline and may not be considered chronologically accurate.
#
This has to work, Vadix thought in denial, scrubbing viciously against his plates. He'd been standing under the water for what felt like an eon, and his carapace still prickled like it was being attacked by a microscopic militia. How much longer could he keep it at?
Longer than he dared spend, especially now that he was under the command of the human spectre. She was definitely someone he was loathe to cross, even in the smallest of ways.
It was this sense of duty that turned the tide of the war being waged on his buttocks, and eventually the turian resolved to call in reinforcements. With no small amount of embarrassment, he stepped out of the shower and stepped into his casuals, casting his eyes around or any potential witnesses of his strange behavior. No one else was present in the small communal bathroom.
For now.
Before he could waffle in the decision, Vadix went looking for the woman that would save him—from the mess she had gotten him into, no less.
He found her in the barracks, perched atop her bunk near the end of the room. Cassana looked up as he approached, and his mandibles fluttered at her smile.
"I require your assistance," he stated without emotion before her open mouth could make any noise.
One eyebrow lifted in response, but she maintained her silence. The man was just relieved she didn't say "I told you so". Wordlessly he gestured for her to follow, out one door, down the hall, and very nearly right into another door.
The automatic entrance remained resolutely closed.
"I apologize for the inconvenience, but women are not permitted in the men's bathroom," the ship's feminine AI intoned from the ceiling.
What an unexpected roadblock, the turian thought blackly.
"Could you make an exception, just this once?" Cassana asked, brazen yet meek. "You must've heard Doctor Chakwas earlier. That's all this is about," she reassured the inanimate voice.
They waited for a human heartbeat—his own beat several times in the same span of time—before the ship responded.
"I understand."
The doors parted, revealing the still empty bathroom, along with the still wet floor at the end.
"You cannot be seen," Vadix hissed, the stress of the morning beginning to affect him, as he stalked to the trio of showerheads.
The human made some disdainful sound, pushing air out of her mouth quickly. "You just face forward and I'll kneel behind you. No one will be able to see me that way," she instructed, moving behind him.
Grumbling at her, he stood miserably just in front of the drain, facing the doorway they'd just entered.
From his rear, the man could hear a puzzled tone. "Are your clothes as water-repellant as you?"
"No, don't be ridiculous," he muttered. Her attempt at humor was not appreciated.
A pause, and then, "Are you going to take them off?"
Vadix was flabbergasted. "Of course not! I can't undress in front of you." He turned around to glare at his interviewer.
Her superior expression matched her tone. "You do realize we have to turn the shower on, right?"
Folding his arms, he repeated, "Of course not. I already tried that; that's why you're here."
Mimicking him, Cassana explained like he was a child, "On the off-chance someone does come in, what are they going to think when you're just standing here, in the shower, with the water off and your clothes on?"
His tongue felt like it rolled into a ball, stopping any retort.
She made a good point.
But he didn't want to admit it.
Especially aloud. To her.
Unfortunately, the turian could see no way around it.
"Fine," he mumbled. "Just don't look at me."
She looked at him like he'd turned into a salarian, but said nothing, raising her hands in surrender.
Even though she'd won.
Trying not to think about the woman behind him, Vadix removed his clothing once more.
The problem with trying not to think about something was that one was, in reality, thinking about that very same something.
He steeled his mind and took his stance, moments before the water hit him. He gasped at the sudden cold, nearly stepping out of it, grateful for the distraction.
Unfortunately, the temperature steadily rose and soon enough there was nothing to distract him from the human's touch. She rested one hand on his lower back, using him to keep herself upright as she leaned toward him.
When her tongue touched him, the man nearly jumped out of his skin. It was a disorienting feeling at first, somehow completely different from when she'd licked his hand even though Vadix knew it was the exactly the same.
Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the bizarreness of it, in order to keep from relishing the sensualness of it. He tried not to remember that he was literally nude and she was—
Wait.
The turian's eyes flew open, not quite seeing his surroundings.
Cassana's clothes weren't water-repellant.
Were they?
They couldn't be, not if she had been so incredulous about his own clothing.
But that meant…
That meant she would have removed her clothing as well.
He was half tempted to turn around, just to verify the status of her modesty.
But then, if he was honest with himself, that was only part of the reason.
Mostly he just wanted to see her body again.
But he couldn't do that. She couldn't know that he wanted to see her, wanted her.
That knowledge would change their easy friendship into something strained, a consequence he wanted to avoid at all possible costs. And that wasn't even considering what it would do to their working relationship.
Maybe he could pretend he didn't suspect she'd removed her outfit, feign innocence. Surely she wouldn't fault him for that.
Would she?
The fact that he didn't know was moderately alarming.
The fact that he didn't care was positively frightening.
Subvocals complaining at the injustice of the whole situation, Vadix slumped where he stood, wishing the nightmare would end, even as he drew pleasure from the feel of her mouth on him.
A movement near the edge of his vision shelved his internal conflict. Eyes flicking to the source, he noticed another man standing at the sink. Vadix felt his muscles tense, taut in every possible place.
The man wasn't looking at Vadix.
The unfamiliar human was staring just beyond the turian, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Then his gaze jerked upward, staring at the other man in the room. His expression was unreadable to the alien.
Before either could take another breath, the stranger had slammed the call button for the door and dashed out.
Vadix didn't know who that was, but he knew he meant trouble.
#
Maybe it made her a bad employee, but, as Cass avoided eye contact with a speechless Commander Shepard, she still thought she wouldn't change a thing.
Other than the initial mix-up maybe. Avoiding the whole morning disaster entirely probably would've been for the best.
Even then, she still wasn't committed to re-doing anything. The nature, the attitude, she had nurtured over the years was to accept the past as something she couldn't change and simply make the most of it.
And she'd be lying if she claimed not to have enjoyed being in such close proximity to a disrobed Vadix.
The only reason the woman was even considering the consequences of an alternate reality was the expression of dismay mixed with disappointment smeared across her boss's face. It made her feel like a misbehaving child.
It wasn't a look she ever wanted to see directed at herself again.
Feeling too chagrined even to sneak a peek at her equally in trouble partner, Cass remained exactly as she was, seated on a hard sofa in the captain's quarters.
If she weren't so nervous, her curiosity would've been overflowing at seeing the commander's private space. The sparse furnishings reminded the human of her own lodgings—now surely rented to some other desperate person—but also seemed to emit an air of finesse that Cass could only dream of possessing. She'd never owned anything quite so new.
Shepard cleared her throat and began the interrogation, "I assume you both know why you're here."
The turian seated next to her rumbled something unintelligible. The poor man would be no help.
"Yes," Cass spoke demurely but succinctly. There was no point in drawing out their punishment.
"Good," the commander stated, clearly relieved to not have to rehash the gory details. "Do you understand why this is a problem?"
At this, the woman glanced at her partner in crime, less familiar with the rules and regulations of military employment. He continued to stare at the ground between his feet, mute. Returning her gaze to the redhead's steely gaze, Cass shook her head, feeling embarrassed at her lack of knowledge. "I apologize, Commander Shepard. I didn't know there were Alliance policies or—"
"That's not the issue," the other woman cut her off. "The issue is that no one on this ship can tell the difference between us, both you and me as well as the two turians on board." Her tone softened as she explained, recognizing the futility of playing the hardened enforcer. "There are no rules, per se, about relations among the crew—hell, if there were I'd certainly be willing to turn a blind eye, what with the impending end of the known universe on the horizon."
She smiled gently, and Cass felt the air rush out of her lungs in a sigh of relief. As intimidating as the Spectre was, it seemed she was also kind, a trait the subordinate human valued far more than sheer strength of raw intellect: somehow it made her relatable.
"For now," Shepard continued, "I must ask the both of you to maintain as professional a relationship as you can while aboard the Normandy. While on leave, you can do whatever—or whomever," she winked, "you'd like, but until the crew members can tell us apart, we must make it abundantly clear that there is nothing 'untoward' happening that would jeopardize my authority."
In the silence she created, the pair on the couch squirmed slightly, recognizing for the first time the nuance of their circumstances. Now that she understood the gravity of her actions, Cass felt so ashamed to have painted this role model of a woman in such a poor light.
She vowed it wouldn't happen again.
"Is there anything else we can do?" she asked, ever eager to please. "To make the differences more obvious, I mean."
The commander began to nod slowly, then started to pace away from them, walking toward the glowing fish tank (fish tank!) and back several times. "Perhaps," she murmured, still deep in thought.
Glancing at Vadix, the man seemed to have moved not a muscle. His talons were intertwined, pressed tightly together, and his joints seems to form right angles everywhere they met. He was a titanium statue, awaiting the castigation to be meted out, oblivious to the potential staring him in the face.
Then Shepard spoke once more, and Cass's attention was no longer focused on her friend. "Garrus always wears his armor, whether on deck or on a mission; if Vadix were to wear casuals at all times, that would certainly help. As for you," she turned to her twin. "I think it would be best if you wore your hair down, as long as possible. And avoid black clothes—the brighter, the better."
She dipped her head in acknowledgement of their instructions, ready to put the plan into action: Cass was determined to make things right.
So determined, in fact, that she nearly left the room and the conversation without being dismissed. Just as she leaned forward to stand, the turian pressed the flat of one hand against her thigh, pushing her into the seat once more. Her questioning gaze was returned by a sharp jerk of the head.
Commander Shepard watched the exchange with mild interest, her own curiosity not so unlike that of the look-a-like woman. Again she pondered the possibility that they may have more in common than mere physical appearance. But on this hypothesis she remained quiet, intent on gathering more data first.
"Now, you'd best be on your way. Mordin is waiting for you in the med-bay. Unfortunately we had to push back the start of your lessons to take care of this 'misunderstanding'." Taking a step back, their CO allowed them space to depart.
As the pair shuffled toward the automatic door, she gave them one last order, "Oh, and Cass, Vadix? Whatever you do, don't get caught naked together again. My reputation would be in absolute shambles."
Chuckling to herself in an otherwise empty room, their superior wondered if she'd regret hiring the new recruits before she'd be grateful for them.