Miranda woke to a stirring on the mattress beside her, and for a single instant, panic rocketed through her.

Who was in her bed? Why were they still there? Why was she still there?

She stiffened, preparing to launch herself from the covers—beneath which, yes, she was naked—and stride from whatever room she'd been stupid enough to let herself get stuck in. And then—

"Good morning," murmured a low, familiar voice, and all at once the fight drained out of her.

Miranda heaved a relieved sigh into Shepard's pillow and rolled onto her side to face the woman. Right. Commander Shepard. How could she have forgotten? The two had barely gotten any sleep last night, between the bed and the shower and the wall and—

Anyway. She supposed it was okay to be stuck, as long as it was with Shepard. Miranda smiled up at her, and Shepard returned the gesture somewhat more tentatively. With the same sense of hesitation, she reached out a freckled hand and ran it over the exposed curve of Miranda's shoulder. Was she—nervous? That had never been an accurate descriptor for the redheaded force of nature, but what else could it be?

"Sleep okay?" Shepard asked before Miranda could voice her thoughts.

Apparently she scoffed internally, but what she said aloud was not a direct answer. Instead, "I've never stayed the night before," she admitted. A little scrap of vulnerability, to coax Shepard to share her own.

The commander didn't, yet. "A shame," she said instead. "That's the best part about relationships."

Miranda rolled her eyes, because she could think of a million better things than waking up in someone else's bed, and said, "Well, they've never really been…relationships."

"Oh?" Shepard didn't sound surprised, merely interested. She ran the backs of her fingers over Miranda's shoulder, down her arm, and the officer tried not to shiver. Casual touch: one of the million things better than waking up in someone else's bed.

Miranda sighed and pressed her face into Shepard's own shoulder. It was warm, solid, real. There, it was easier to explain, "Sex has always been…impersonal, for me. It's a tool. A way to blow off steam. Never anything more." She debated continuing; decided it was worth the embarrassment to add, "I even tried dating sites on the extranet for a while."

Shepard laughed aloud in surprise, and—yes. That sound alone was worth the embarrassment. "You?" the commander asked incredulously. "And how did that turn out?"

Miranda nipped her shoulder in reproach. "About as well as could be expected."

Shepard's hand went to the back of her head, combing through dark hair. It was a gesture of comfort, but not pity. Never pity. A moment passed while they just lay there, together, and everything about it was so, so different from what Miranda knew. They were different. They were better.

"Just to be clear," Shepard broke the silence, and the nervousness was back., "is this just a way for you to blow off steam, too, or…?"

Oh. So that was the problem. Shepard wasn't sure where they stood. Well, Miranda had never faced a problem she couldn't solve.

"No," she said instantly, with absolute certainty. "Of course not. I—" She pushed herself up on one elbow and met Shepard's eye. "I care about you, Shepard. It's crazy and stupid, and we might die tomorrow, but against all odds, you—you've made me care." It wasn't exactly what she wanted to say, but it was close enough. It had to be enough.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Shepard smiled, eyes going soft with relief, and it was enough.