Club music strobed through the almost-cavernous room and Garrus Vakarian immediately felt – what was that human saying? – like a fish out of water. As he stepped toward the tank in Commander Shepard's quarters, the irony did not escape him.

Focus on the task at hand. "If you were a turian, I'd be complimenting your waist or your fringe. So… your, uh, hair looks good. And your waist is… very supportive."

Something about that didn't sound right – or maybe that was just the damned music. Garrus felt like he was scrabbling around in the dark. He'd meant to do more research, but somehow this moment had come rushing forward faster than a charging krogan. "Hopefully that's not offensive in human culture."

Why wasn't she saying anything? Her arms were folded, a corner of her mouth upturned, an eyebrow arched. His mind was blank. He knew this expression, but its meaning was escaping him currently. He followed his usual instinct and assumed the worst. "Crap. I knew should have watched the vids—"

"Whoa! Consider me seduced, smooth talker," Shepard teased, not unkindly. "Now shut up and stop worrying." She dropped her arms and moved past him, clearly amused – how embarrassing – and killed the music. Much better. In the silence, Shepard placed herself in front of him and looked up into his eyes.

Eyes – those, he could read. In hers, just then, Garrus saw her amusement layered on top of warmth, affection. Something deeper: respect, and…

Trust.

He broke eye contact as he fumbled through his feelings. Sniper to the core, he wasn't really used to being out in the open like this. "I've just… I've seen so many things go wrong, Shepard. My work at C-Sec, what happened with Sidonis…" The faces of his squad mates flashed in front of him, and he felt his heart and stomach swoop and wrench in pain and guilt. They'd respected and trusted him, too. He realized suddenly how much more this meant to him than he might have allowed himself to think. "I want something to go right. Just once. Just…" He trailed off as Shepard reached up and gently, so gently, touched his scar. Guided his eyes back to hers.

Respect and trust.

A barrier dropped somewhere inside him then, and as it collapsed, he felt his head bowing to meet the commander's. His best friend. Unbidden, his hand raised up to touch her arm.

"Garrus," she said softly. "We can take things slowly. We don't have to rush into anything."

A rush of air escaped him in an awkward, choking laugh. He stood upright, tried to regain a bit of swagger. "I could have done better, Shepard, but I didn't think I was that bad."

She gave an appreciative chuckle. "It's not that, Garrus. And you were terrible, by the way, so don't kid yourself," she added with a half-smile. His mandibles flared in a silent, embarrassed laugh. "Don't worry, it was oddly endearing." Great. Children were endearing.

She was serious now, facing the fish tank in a stance he recognized as "at ease," hands clasped behind her back. "But if you're looking for something to go right, maybe we should slow things down a little."

Garrus considered this as he mimicked Shepard's posture and studied the aquarium. As they darted and rippled through the water, he wondered if she found the fish calming in the aftermath of her more intense confrontations. Although, if she sought solace in the aquatic creatures now, that didn't bode well for his bungling attempts just moments ago. His mandibles flared in embarrassment again and he turned to look at her. She did, in fact, seem very calm – quite at peace, considering not only his lame attempts at courtship, but the mission that lay just around the corner.

They'd both been looking to blow off steam, but maybe this change in tactics wasn't such a bad idea. "All right, Shepard," he said, nodding and inhaling to regain some composure. "What's the game plan, then? I brought the alcohol. You haven't exactly contributed much."

She turned, grinning at his sass. "I can fix that. How much do you know about humans in wartime?" she asked.

This was already taking an odd turn, and he'd barely gotten back on even keel. "Shepard, I'm not sure this is the right moment to bring up the First Contact War," Garrus said, attempting a joke.

"Hah. No, not what I meant." She stepped over to the couch and sat, elbows on her knees, leaning toward the coffee table in front of her. "Instead of your tradition of sparring, on their downtime, human soldiers – we play games. Board games, card games," Shepard explained. "It's how we get to know each other, and how we forget about what might be coming next."

Garrus crossed his arms and leaned back in disbelief. "Humans play card games to blow off steam?" It seemed preposterous.

"Well, I guess it's a tradition that developed from a lack of lady soldiers to blow off steam with. For most of our history, we weren't allowed to serve."

This gave him a moment's pause, because he vaguely recalled Ashley telling him something similar a very long time ago, and – what would the galaxy have done without Commander Shepard? "Well, that hardly seems fair," he groused lightheartedly, moving to sit near her. "Sometimes a guy likes to be the one in distress. What if I were trapped in a tower and needed the damsel to rescue me?"

"From a thousand poorly informed mercs trying to blast their way in?" Shepard arranged her face in that – in that way again, with the cocked eyebrow and the half-smile. The more she made that face, the more Garrus liked it, he realized.

As she opened a drawer in the coffee table, she continued, "Anyway, it's not like the turian military… arrangement. Even if some male soldiers preferred each other's company… we have strict rules about fraternization."

"Huh. I guess it's a good thing I'm not in your Alliance, then," Garrus mused, leaning back in his seat, hoping to appear dashing.

Smiling, but otherwise ignoring him, she plowed on: "So, the tradition developed. Board games can be impractical to carry around, but nearly any human has a deck of cards on hand." She'd been rooting around in the drawer as she spoke. "Poker is a good game, but it's no fun with two. Bridge is fairly popular – and considering how we… reunited, feels appropriate – but you need four for that."

"We're not inviting anybody else up here," he cut in.

"Agreed." She'd managed to secure a deck of cards from deep within the drawer and placed her prize on the table with force, clearly confident. "So, let's play Go Fish."

It was too perfect to be a joke, but he laughed anyway.

"The rules are simple," she stated, invoking her Commander Shepard is the Boss tone – and as serious as if they were about to touch down in a warzone.

This was going to be interesting.

"Dammit, Garrus, how the hell are you winning so much?" If a turian could be tickled, Garrus was by this display of frustration, and he struggled to keep his face straight. Considering her achievements in life, he'd had always suspected the commander was highly competitive. "This is supposed to be a game of luck!"

"Isn't beginner's luck the best kind of luck?" he asked innocently.

"Uh huh," she growled. "It's got to be statistically impossible for you to win this much." Her eyes fell on his wrist, widening, and her eyebrows drew together. Crap. If she'd had mandibles, he had a feeling he'd know exactly the angle and rate at which they'd have fluttered. Automatically, he drew his hand behind his back to hide the traitorous sleeve that was exposing a corner of the card he'd been about to cheat with. "Is that – Garrus, are you—?"

"Am I… devilishly handsome by turian standards? Why yes, and thank you." He coughed.

Shepard's eyes began to narrow as she considered him. He'd been rather curious to see how she'd react to his… unscrupulous approach – he'd known he wouldn't be able to hide it forever – but in hindsight, this was probably a mistake. Then again, he was also highly competitive (or masochistic, his brain offered without invitation).

"Garrus Vakarian, you cheating son of bitch," she finally said, and Garrus could hear the amusement in her voice.

"Didn't I warn you, Shepard? Bad turian, right here. And cheating is a Most Grievous Offence in our culture, you know."

A pause. Then Shepard burst out laughing. It was a good sound. A contagious one, Garrus thought, as he joined her. He felt their laughter clearing away crowded mental spaces, relaxing tense muscles, cool release rushing in.

Now spent from the belly laughter, but still smiling, Shepard wiped wetness away from her eye and said, "Thanks. I can't remember the last time I laughed like that."

"Me neither," he responded, basking in the glow of this brief respite before their mission.

"If you can cheat at cards, you must have already known how to play them," she said suddenly, almost accusatory.

He put up his hands in surrender. "You caught me, Shepard." He raised a brow plate. "Do you think you're the only person I talk to on these human ships of yours?"

He enjoyed watching her jaw drop, the slow rise of colour to her face. "I just – you're always in the— I didn't—" she stammered, then cut herself off, clearly embarrassed.

"Oh, this is too much," he crowed delightedly. "Did I just render Commander Shepard, the Hero of the Citadel, the best humanity has to offer, speechless?"

At his cheekiness, Shepard recovered and gave his upper arm a strong swipe with the back of her hand. He wasn't sure if this was a human way of flirting – it actually did hurt a little – but she was smiling again, so that had to be a good sign. He took his chance to really drive it home. "Don't you humans have a saying? 'To assume makes you an ass'?"

"Hah hah. The saying is, 'To assume makes an ass out of you and me.' And considering you cheated at cards with the woman you're trying to sleep with, I'd say it holds up."

Garrus leaned forward and placed the offending card on the table. "Fair enough," he granted.

Now the battleground was levelled: both embarrassed, and each finding humour in the other's mortification. This was… a fun place to be. Garrus was genuinely forgetting what it was they were hurtling through space toward. Without thinking, he put his arm around Shepard's shoulders, and before he could panic at his unintentional overstep, she leaned into him.

They were quiet for a minute, and Garrus breathed her in a bit, relaxing into her clean, soapy scent.

"The Normandy has always been my favourite," Shepard said eventually. Garrus followed her gaze to her model ship collection.

"Hm. SR-1 or SR-2?" he asked.

"SR-1," she answered. After a beat, she elaborated, "This ship has a lot of advantages over the original, but when it comes down to it, you can't have a sequel without the original."

Garrus let out a soft rumble of a laugh and agreed, "I'm sure the first Blasto far exceeds its successors."

He felt her laugh, and then she recited from what sounded like a military propaganda vid she'd probably seen ages ago, "Top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art ship. A symbol of humans and turians working together to achieve something more than they could on their own."

"Seems like a fitting theme," he commented, voice low. She shifted, and Garrus angled his head so he could watch her reaction unfold.

Cocky. That was the word for the look she kept giving him – the raised eyebrow, the smirk. Huskily, she said, "The team probably had to do a lot of research." Garrus had never imagined the word could sound so sexy. He felt his mouth open a little and a mandible twitch, but no witty remark was immediately available to him. Instead, Shepard carried on as she pulled away from him, slowly standing up, "I didn't watch any vids, either, Garrus," she said as she set about removing her clothing. She was deliberate, unhurried. "I prefer to do my research… hands on."

Garrus swallowed. All he could do was watch her as garments fell, piece by piece, to the floor.

She stood before him, completely nude. He had never seen her like this – and yet somehow, he always had. Confident. Dauntless, really. And beautiful, he imagined, by the human standard. To Garrus, though, she was simply, powerfully stunning.

His eyes rested on her fleshier areas and a thought flitted across his mind: those might be fun to sink his talons into… just a little, just enough.

"Drawing any conclusions, Vakarian?"

"You really do have a supportive waist," he quipped playfully, rising to meet her.

What could have been minutes or hours later, the pair were curled up together in the bed, Shepard's back pleasantly warm against Garrus. Every nerve ending was immersed in deep contentment. He was glad he hadn't watched the vids. Exploring this new world – and being explored in turn – had been much better without any spoilers.

"Is this what humans call 'taking it slow'?" he asked, idly tracing a talon across her shoulder and down her arm.

"Well… slower," Shepard responded. He could hear the smile in her voice, and the sleepiness. Her breathing slowed and deepened.

"Garrus."

He thought she'd fallen asleep. "Shepard?"

"There aren't a lot of people left in this world that I can trust. A lot are dead. Or gone."

The commander's dressing-down by her former lieutenant on Horizon sprang to Garrus' mind without invitation. He had sensed the way Kaidan had hollowed her out that day when he used the phrase "I loved you." Past tense.

Quelling the residual feeling of indignation on behalf of Shepard, and a sudden mild panic on his own behalf, he focused on the fact that Shepard was lying naked in front of him. He wrapped an arm around her for good measure – unsure if it was for her protection or his own.

She placed her arm on top of his, squeezed his hand with her own, perhaps also thinking of Horizon. "This may have started as 'blowing off steam,'" she continued, "but I think it would do our friendship a disservice to chalk it up to just that."

Shepard's words washed over Garrus, settling his worry as the things he thought he might have been feeling for his commander these past few months began to solidify. "Shepard…" he began, wanting to share these feelings with her but not overdo it, "I meant what I said about not having a human fetish. I want this to be about us, about" —crap, he was going to say it— "our spirits." Well, too late to go back on it now.

He felt her softly chuckle before she said with affection, "'Spirits'? So traditional – for a bad turian."

His mandibles flared in a short laugh. "I may be a bad one, but… I still am one."

"This is true." She sighed in what seemed a tired but satisfied sort of way. He hoped, anyway. "One I just had sex with."

"And how does that make you feel, Commander Shepard?" he drawled, hoping he sounded more cavalier than he felt.

She yawned. "Like I can finally get some sleep, to be honest."

"Good. Get some rest, Shepard, you're going to need it."

"You too, Vakarian," she murmured as sleep drew her in. "I can't do this without you."

Warmth bloomed in his chest even as his own tiredness began to settle in. "You'll never have to," he responded softly. He wasn't sure she heard him, but didn't change the fact: "There's no Vakarian without Shepard."