Shepard didn't avoid him; she ignored him. He didn't know how to ignore someone who simultaneously made his blood boil and his stomach flip, so he avoided her. Well, he did until they'd picked up Ann Bryson on that reaper-infested planet. It'd taken one chat with Ann on their way back to the Citadel for James to figure that the doctor would do anything to find Leviathan—and, knowing Shepard, she'd let her. James was right, of course, which is how he found himself at his punching bag while they flew to Despoina.
He should've ignored Shepard when she ordered him to keep the link with Leviathan open, but she was his CO and his training kicked in. I hope it was worth it. He'd glanced at her when he'd said it, Ann trembling and clinging to him. There'd been a flash of regret in Shepard's eyes, but not enough. Certainly not enough to stop bitterness bleeding into the rest of him as he deposited an almost comatose Ann at a medical facility.
Boots rang on the deck behind him, but he ignored them and continued pummelling the bag. It was the middle of the day shift. Plenty of people walked in and out and around the hangar. If it were the night cycle, he definitely would have turned.
Shepard's voice cut through his thoughts of her. 'Suit up. We're going planet-side in two hours.'
He took one last vicious strike at the bag, making the chain creak where it was attached to the bar above, and turned to her. She stood on the other side of his station, arms crossed over her chest and her commander face on. She was always Commander Shepard now. He didn't get to see just Shepard anymore and damn if that didn't sit a bit too heavily inside him.
The air between them crackled. He wanted to ask if she knew what they were going up against, but he didn't trust himself to not then say something stupid if she said anything that rubbed him even slightly the wrong way. One spark and things might blow up. Tio Emilio taught him the value of occasionally shutting up, so he kept his lips pinched in a thin line and nodded.
A bead of sweat ran down his neck, and he didn't miss how Shepard's gaze locked onto it. His mind unhelpfully supplied memories of her mouth trailing nips and kisses up his neck to a sensitive spot below his ear that she enjoyed torturing him with. She spun away and stalked to the elevator, back ramrod straight. He briefly caught her eye when she turned in the elevator and her look of pure want shot straight to his groin, which until then was happy to be dormant. Some tension leaked out of him as the doors closed but came back when he noticed Cortez giving him one of his meaningful looks. The last time he'd acted on one of the pilot's meaningful looks, things had gone to shit.
James flipped him off and turned his back, supposedly to wipe the sweat from his body with his gym towel but really to tell his half-hard cock to calm down. It didn't work. Only one thing would right now—two things, but one of them might see him lose that precious appendage. He adjusted himself and beat a hasty retreat to the crew deck's showers. He stood under a spray of cool water, hoping but knowing that that wasn't going to help either.
He wanted to punch something some more. Shepard had been the one who'd ended things. She shouldn't be allowed to give him looks that made him want to chase after her and fuck her in the elevator.
James turned up the temperature of the water until steam clouded the bathroom. Wrapping his hand around his shaft, he closed his eyes and leaned a forearm against the wall, remembering another shower scene with Shepard. It didn't take long for his hips to jerk as he reached his release, him biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making any noise, least of all saying her name.
The water turned cold, his allotment of hot water used up, and he let that wake him from his post-climax bliss. At the very least, he wasn't going to be diverted by an unsatiated dick while on a mission.
He finished washing himself quickly and two hours later stood next to the shuttle in the hangar bay, checking his systems and weapons. Shepard strode in, helmet already on. He didn't want to read into that too much. She climbed into the shuttle and James got in next so he could snag the seat furthest away from her. She didn't sit but stood behind Cortez with a tight hold on the handrail that ran along the ceiling, so he took the seat by the door. Seemed like the safest bet. The ultimate safe bet was to slip his helmet on, which he did while she, Cortez and Garrus fell into mission talk. Since she had hers on, he wouldn't get funny looks for wanting to hide behind metal and tinted glass. He might not be distracted by a hard-on, but his emotions still roiled and that was going to get him killed if he couldn't get a lid on it.
When had he started to fall for her? Was it before or after the Citadel docks, when he was trapped between a batarian's needle and her teasing, leading, maddening question? Was it before he even met her, when she was an inspiration he'd only seen on vidscreens? She'd sunk her roots into him at some point. Even now, with her callous words chasing themselves around his head, his senses were drunk on the taste of her skin, on her head thrown back in ecstasy, on the gasps and moans he wrung from her. When he was with her, be it in private or out in this breaking galaxy, her single-minded need to save them from annihilation burned away what fear and pain this war and the Collectors and the Fehl asari, Treeya, had wreaked on him. He was a stupid, stupid man for reaching for the unattainable… again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. James turned tail and sprinted for cover as a reaper brute bore down on him. He almost reached cover too. He grunted as the brute slammed into him and he went flying into a wall. His vision swam as he got to his knees too slowly to get out of the brute's way. The thing gripped his head in strong, metal fingers and James sent a volley of blind, virtually useless gunfire against it. Black stuff oozed from the wounds, but the brute slammed him against the wall again and then the floor. He'd dropped his gun in the onslaught. He was going to die on some backwater (hah!) planet—not exactly the heroic ending he'd imagined for himself. He drove his fortify charge to his gauntlets, a last-ditch effort to get the brute to at least let go of him, and sent the shock to the brute's hand. It roared and dropped him, but James just crumpled to a heap, not any closer to getting away.
The brute reached for him again and then a missile ripped through the thing's middle, almost severing it at the waist. Silence. Shepard and Garrus must have finished off the other brutes while this one was trying to make James into a human smoothie. He wiped black gunk from his faceplate and then crawled towards his dropped rifle. Shepard's Triton mech was turned towards him, gun smoking in the constant drizzle of this useless world. He couldn't see her in detail behind the tinted glass, but he nodded at her in thanks. The Triton turned away from him and headed towards Cortez, standing near the edge of the wreck they were trapped on. James hobbled over to them while Cortez walked around the mech, scanning it with his omnitool, and Garrus exchanged words with Shepard that didn't carry to him. He got there just as Cortez said she could dive.
James listed to one side, hand over his aching ribs. 'But Shepard—'
The fierce look she gave him told him to shut up, and then her gaze flickered down to where he clutched his torso and her face softened. 'I'll be fine.'
He nodded and got out of her way. A splash and she was gone.
'Serious injuries?' asked Garrus, pulling James's attention away from where Shepard had disappeared.
'No, just my pride, hermano,' said James, glaring over Garrus's shoulder at the remains of the brute that'd almost killed him.
The turian chuckled. 'Sorry, can't fix that.'
While Garrus helped Cortez do what they could to make sure the shuttle would stay airborne when Shepard returned, James stepped into the shuttle to grab the medkit. Omnigel could only do so much. There were stronger, better painkillers that'd erase the pain until Chakwas could patch him up. He was pretty sure nothing was broken, but his ribs screamed at him. Hell, it hurt to breathe. He hissed as he unclipped the seals on his chestplate. He was glad for the alone time as, when he eased out of his armour, he swore in a way that'd get him smacked upside the head if his abuela ever heard him. He injected the painkiller concoction through his underweave and waited for it to kick in.
James leaned his head back against the headrest, thinking of the look Shepard had given him before she went under. She'd never given him that look before and certainly not on a mission. She was a hardass in the field. The glare he'd expected. The relief on her face though… yeah, that was relief. He chewed his lip. A tiny spark came to life inside him even with the numbness that was spreading through his system as the painkillers started working. He shouldn't read into her expression. He sure as shit shouldn't pin anything on it. But he couldn't help it. The corner of his mouth ticked up.
Shepard cared.
James let himself bask in the sweetness of that knowledge as adrenaline seeped out of his system and the painkillers relaxed him. A clang outside jerked him out of his stupor, but either no one had noticed him dozing off or they let him. Either way, it was unprofessional. He'd deal with Shepard and his ribs and whatever else later. He focused on getting his armour back on, his movements smooth now that he couldn't feel anything.
'Incoming,' said Garrus over the open comm link just as James was done checking over his armour's systems.
With a groan that had to do with annoyance rather than pain, James grabbed his weapon and joined Garrus and Cortez behind cover.
'Estaban, take the shuttle. Stay low. Come back when Shepard's back,' said James, and Cortez patted his shoulder and headed for the shuttle.
James hunkered next to Garrus, looking down the sight of his rifle. Two brutes lumbered from the far end of the wreck, hindered by obstacles. Said obstacles didn't much slow the husks though, which Garrus was picking off with his sniper rifle. Brutes were bad enough. A swarm of husks could overwhelm them before the brutes even got to them.
'Shepard online yet?' asked James, waiting for the husks to come within his firing range.
'Negative. Still trying,' replied Cortez.
James grimaced. This might get ugly. The heat of the shuttle roaring to life and lifting off warmed his back and, for a brief second, it evaporated the drizzle around them. And then the husks were in firing range.
Garrus and James kept the husks from overwhelming them, but the brutes were getting closer and the husks kept appearing and running for them in that strange zombie lope. Fuck, he hoped that Shepard was still alive and had convinced Leviathan to help them and, most of all, that she came back before the brutes got to them and tore them apart.
'Grenades?' asked Garrus as the brutes clambered over the last obstacle.
'I'm out,' said James.
Garrus made a humming noise. 'Maybe you can distract them with some dancing while I fight. You used to be a stripper on Omega, right?'
James snorted. 'I'm out of practise, but maybe you can distract them by catching a rocket with your face.'
Garrus chuckled as they dropped back a line of defence. They were one piece of cover away from falling into the endless ocean when Shepard's Triton jumped onto the wreck. The brutes halted their advance, swivelling what used to be turian heads to the new threat. The glass of the cockpit lifted and Shepard all but fell out while the mech tumbled backwards into the water. Shepard got only a few steps before she collapsed again. The brutes sensed the weakness and stepped towards her.
'Cover me!' James broke from his crouch without waiting for an affirmative and sprinted to Shepard. He helped her to her feet, uncaring that he had his back to the brutes. Maybe this was when his number was finally up. A crunch and a grunt behind him made him look over his shoulder and his mouth dropped open in his helmet. The brutes were fighting each other.
'Come on,' said Garrus, voice harsh over the comm. Cortez had returned with the shuttle.
Garrus shot at husks as the brutes took on each other. Shepard's legs buckled before they reached the transport and James hooked an arm under her knees, running the last few steps. He slid her onto the floor of the hovering shuttle before hopping in himself. Garrus jumped in after him and Cortez took off before the reaper forces could come to their senses. James vaguely heard Cortez yell something about an incoming reaper, but James was too focused on getting Shepard's helmet off her limp body.
He popped the seals on her helmet and pulled it off. A trail of blood leaked from Shepard's nose the same way it had from Ann's, and his heart rate kicked up a notch. His omnitool said she was alive, but he pulled off his glove with his teeth and found her pulse to check anyway. Dios, her skin was so cold. Shepard was never cold.
She came to with hacking coughs, like her lungs were filled with invisible water. James let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and curled his fist on his knee to stop himself from reaching out for her. She clambered backwards and into a seat, shaking her head free of whatever Leviathan had done to her. His heart still pounded in his ears but at least his throat didn't feel like a rock was lodged in it anymore. Shepard's eyes were still hazy as she wiped away the blood under her nose, staring at it for a second before smearing it on her armour.
He wanted to crush her in a hug, but he settled on staying crouched before her and asking, 'You okay?'
'Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. Hell of a headache.'
'Never do that again,' he said, raw fear making his words come out hoarser and harsher than he'd intended.
There was a second where that unreadable expression he'd gotten weeks ago on Cyone came back, then her gaze slid to Garrus behind them and it was gone.