Author's note:I needed a break from my longer fic, so I wrote this one shot from a scene I always imagined happened during ME3. Enjoy!

Shepard never asked for much; she was a very spartan kind of woman (Spartan too). So when she asked Garrus for a "real first date", he panicked at the prospect of making plans, feeling the pressure to arrange something dreamy and memorable. What would a good human boyfriend do?, he wondered. Still a novice at dating humans, he turned to the person he saw as having the most success and experience in romancing women.

"Hey, Vega, do you have a second?" Garrus asked as he stepped out of the ship's elevator. James was at the weapons bench, trying out a new smart choke on his Wraith.

"Sure, what's up?" James set his shotgun down.

"I don't really know how to ask this..." Garrus rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his voice. "But...I need some advice. Dating advice."

An amused grin engulfed James' face. "Dating advice, huh? Is Lola giving you trouble? Or, is it like...intimate stuff?" James scratched his head. "Because, uh, I don't think I can give you advice there. Cause you're a turian and all."

"No, no, nothing like that," replied Garrus, embarrassed. "She asked me to take her out on a 'real date'. The problem is I have no idea what human women would find romantic. I don't want to mess this one up."

James crossed his arms and took a wide stance, his feet firmly planted. "Oooooo, gotcha. When are you supposed have this 'date'? Where?"

"We have mandatory shore leave scheduled, I thought we could do it then. Maybe the Silversun Strip? Is that too tacky?" Nervous, Garrus fluttered his mandibles as he awaited judgement.

"Nah, ladies love that glitzy crap!" James waved a hand dismissively. "Do you have any other ideas?"

Garrus had mulled over it for a few days but didn't have much to offer. "I was thinking...maybe some drinks. A stroll along the strip. Some sushi?"

"Mmmm, not bad, not bad." James scratched at his chin. "But tell me: do you know how to...dance?" Striding forward, he did a sassy salsa step together, his hands held up near his shoulders.

"Dance? Yeah, I can dance. I do it at clubs, on occasion. If I've had enough to drink anyway." Garrus confidently did a sad little shuffle.

"No, but can you dance!" James held an arm out at chest level, imitating a hand behind a partner's back, his other arm held up in the air as if holding a partner's hand. He angled his head downward and locked eyes with Garrus, then swept a leg in a grand circle.

A shiver ran through Garrus. Well that was intense and weird, he thought. "When you put it that way, then no."

Steve, who was standing at the procurement console, turned his attention toward the two men.

James retorted, "Listen Scars, women love men who can dance. It drives them loco!"

"Does it?" Garrus was intrigued by the idea that dancing could be considered romantic.

"Yeah, because it reminds them of...you know." James lifted his eyebrows several times in quick succession. "And if you're good at dancing, that means you're good at, uh, other stuff."

"Ahhhhh..."

Steve cleared his throat. "If I can suggest—what about the Argentine tango?"

Garrus spun his head toward Steve. "Argentine tango?"

"It's a very sensual, intimate kind of partner dance. Very expressive." Steve joined the two men at the other side of the shuttle bay.

"Yes! Good one Esteban!" shouted James, clapping his hands once in a show of approval.

"But there's one big problem here," said Garrus.

"What's that?" asked Steve.

"Shepard can't dance."

James laughed and clapped Garrus on the back. "Yeah, you're not wrong."

"That's the great thing about Argentine tango—if the person leading is a strong dancer, he can guide his partner through the steps. Even someone as hopeless as Shepard," Steve said.

Interested but skeptical, Garrus narrowed his eyes at Steve. "You're sure this is going to work?"

"It's worth a shot," he replied, shrugging.

"Right, I'm on board. Teach me how to dance Vega? Whatever will make Shepard happy."

James gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. "You got it Scars."

"I'll owe you after this," Garrus added.

"Let's see how you do first, heh."

Sneaking in dance lessons was going to be difficult aboard a busy space vessel. Steve agreed to let James and Garrus know when the Commander was coming and going from the Normandy. Garrus enlisted EDI's help too, requesting to know when Shepard was up and about before her usual wake time or retiring to her quarters.

Late that evening, EDI's voice buzzed over the ship's intercom in the main battery. "Commander Shepard has retired to her quarters."

"Thank you EDI," replied Garrus.

Garrus found James in the kitchen where he had gone to fix himself a cup of coffee. James and Javik were having a lively argument about whether the Blasto movies had any artistic merit.

"These films are an affront to the narrative form. I find their events implausible and their historical accuracy dubious at best. I question the intelligence of anyone who enjoys such primitive garbage."

"Look, all I'm saying is that the movies are fun. I mean, where else are you gonna see a jellyfish shootin' a big gun? 'Enkindle this!'" James imitated spraying an assault rifle across the mess, complete with rat-a-tat-tat sound effects.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," interrupted Garrus. "I don't mean to put a stop to your worthy debate, but I need to speak to Vega here."

James furrowed his brow in confusion, then realized why Garrus had come to find him so late in the evening. "Ahhhhh. Yes, let's go amigo."

Down in the shuttle bay, James cleared a space next to his usual station, far away from the elevator doors and partially hidden by walls of the alcove.

"Ok Garrus. First, we've gotta start with the music. Dance is all about the music. It's gonna to tell you what to do and how to feel. The dance is about being in the moment!"

James put on some music especially for Argentine tango—moody, intense, and passionate. The rhythmic plucking of the guitar, the sharp staccato notes of the bandoneon—along with the drone of its legato—made Garrus want to stand up a little straighter and glide across the room.

"Do you feel that? Right there." James thumped Garrus' chest. "Start from there."

Garrus flinched as James sidled up to him, close enough for him to feel the breath from his nose on his chin. Normally when someone came this close to his face it was to either deck him or kiss him.

"First, we want to straighten the spine, the whole thing. You should feel that all up and down your body." James stood tall. "Now, you're the guy so you need to lead the dance. That means your right hand needs to be midway up your partner's back, and your other hand needs to hold hers above shoulder level." James placed Garrus' hand on his back and held his other hand up in the right position.

"I feel a little strange, Vega," said Garrus.

James put his hand on Garrus' arm to complete the position. "That's ok. I know I'm not exactly Cinderella here."

"Who?"

"Nevermind." James continued, "So now we're in position. You don't want to be to stiff, but you shouldn't hunch either. We're going to put a little bit of weight on the balls of our feet, like this." James leaned forward slightly to demonstrate.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but the balls of my feet aren't quite the same..."

"Damn, sorry. Um, just lean forward a little then."

"Like this?"

"Yeah, that's good."

EDI's voice suddenly interrupted: "Commander Shepard is entering the shuttle bay." But neither man heard her over the sound of the music. Shepard's light footsteps were barely audible as she turned the corner of the alcove. James and Garrus jumped when they heard her voice.

"Hey boys!" Shepard eyed the pair up and down, scoffing in surprise. "Ummm...what are you guys doing?"

Garrus let go of James' hand and stepped back. "Oh, hey Shepard...I was just showing Vega some turian hand-to-hand combat techniques. He asked me about them last week, I promised I'd teach him..."

"Uh, yeah, they're awesome. I like to expand my repertoire."

"Your repertoire?" Shepard wrinkled her nose. She'd never heard James use any words that sounded remotely French. "What's with the tango music?" she asked.

"I like to have some music on when I spar. It helps me concentrate," said James.

"Interesting taste in fighting music...I prefer a good metal song, myself." Throwing her head back and forth—hair whipping wildly—Shepard did her best air guitar. She felt the weight of the boys' stunned reaction and after a few seconds, stopped. "If I didn't know any better, I could have sworn the two of you were dancing."

"Dancing? Why would we be doing that?" James avoided eye contact and shut off the music.

Shepard curled her lips and shrugged.

"What are you doing here anyway? I thought you went to bed early," said Garrus.

"I couldn't sleep. I can't stop thinking about all the things I need to take care of, it's keeping me up. I came to ask James for the specs on his current armor."

James piped up, "Oh yeah Commander, I can get those for you."

"It's time I get some sleep anyway," said Garrus. "See you both tomorrow?"

"Goodnight, Garrus." Shepard squeezed his hand and smiled.

"See ya, Scars!"

Steve, who had been making repairs on the Kodiak, winked at Garrus as he walked to the elevator. Garrus held up his hand in recognition and went back to the crew deck.

James and Garrus managed to get three more practice sessions in during the next five days, but the sessions were far too short and they weren't making much progress. Finding time when Shepard wasn't around was proving difficult. But as she had mentioned, she had a lot of work on her hands. The war was intensifying, and she needed to procure new gear now while supplies were still available. On her next trip to the Citadel, Steve offered to take her personally.

"I'll take you Commander, no problem," he said cheerfully.

"Are you sure? I can always get them to send a shuttle," Shepard replied.

"Yeah, of course. I could use a bit of a break anyway. Do you want to grab lunch while we're at it?"

"That sounds nice Steve, thanks."

Steve tried his best to keep Shepard occupied while James and Garrus practiced back on board the Normandy.

To avoid another unfortunate faux pas, James kept the volume of the music a few notches lower. They went over the basic steps again to make sure Garrus had them down before moving on to more advanced techniques.

"So that's 1, right foot back...2, left foot side...3, right foot forward...4, left foot forward...5, right foot with the left...6, left foot...YAAAAAAH! Dios mio, watch your step!"

Garrus had crunched James' toes under his heavy boot. "Ah crap, sorry. My feet..."

"You've got huge feet, Garrus. Can't be helped, but you need to be extra careful. Don't want the Commander to lose her toes before a battle."

"No, of course not."

James let go of Garrus' hand and shook his arms out. "You know what they say about men with big feet."

"No..." Garrus glared, expecting James to hurl an insult. "Enlighten me."

"They have big...um, feet." James abandoned his inappropriate comment. "Listen, why don't we take a break. Then I can show you how to lunge."

Garrus took a minute to catch his breath. "Yeah, sounds good. I never thought a dance could be tiring."

James gulped down some water and tossed the bottle back onto his workbench. "Just because it looks pretty doesn't mean it isn't work."

"Where did you learn to dance anyway? I never figured you for the type." Garrus collapsed onto an empty crate in the corner.

"My cousin Teresa, she was a dancer. She used to teach at a studio back home. She taught me everything I know."

"Was?"

"Yeah, she's in the Alliance now. Communications specialist in the marine corps."

"I suppose this war's swallowed everyone. No hiding from it now," Garrus said, resigned.

"Nope." James wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Ok, what do you say we keep going? Before Shepard gets back from shopping."

"She and Steve have been gone for a couple of hours, I wonder how much longer they'll be."

"Heh, women and their shopping, right?"

Garrus leaned forward and folded his hands together, his elbows resting on his knees. "So...do most women have heat sinks, heavy chestplates, concentration mods, and precision sniper rifles on their regular shopping lists? Just wondering."

"Lighten up Garrus, I was just making small talk."

Garrus' mandibles flew out wide to show he wasn't being serious.

Garrus had already gone back to the main battery by the time Steve and Shepard arrived from the Citadel. All the time spent practicing meant that he had a lot of catching up to do if he was going to calibrate the weapons systems properly. He was reading a new data report EDI had prepared when he absentmindedly began practicing the new steps he had learned. His back taut, he travelled around the room with the datapad in hand, cross stepping and making figure eights. He had just taken a deep step back for a lunge when he heard the door to the battery open.

"Hey Garrus, how's it going in here?" Shepard piped up brightly.

Garrus turned around and set the datapad down on the battery console. "Oh, hi Shepard. Just working on some calibrations."

"Calibrating some fancy foot work?"

"That? I was just doing some special stretches, to keep my hips limber. Turian skeletal structure, our hips get sore when we stand in one place for too long." Garrus did another lunge to demonstrate.

Shepard arched her eyebrows and tilted her head. "Huh, you learn new things everyday."

Nice save, Archangel, she bought it! he bragged to himself.

"So what brings you here?" he asked.

Shepard sauntered closer and the door behind her closed. "I just wanted to see if you'd given any more thought to our 'first date'."

"Mmmmm, yeah, I've thought of some things." Garrus subvocals cooled to a soft growl.

"Like?"

"First, some drinks are in order. Maybe dinner? But after that…we'll see where the night takes us."

"We'll see, hmm? Ok bigshot, then I have a request for you."

"What's that?"

She traced a finger down his chest. "When we go out, I want you to pretend that we've never met before."

"What, like roleplaying?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun. We can improvise." Shepard's eyes darted upward as she searched for words. "Think of it like...improvising in the field, only instead of bullets you've got words."

"I can do that," Garrus confirmed. "As long as we can keep improvising off the field too. Let's saaaay….in your quarters, afterwards?"

"But we can do that now," she purred, as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Don't tease me Shepard, I've got work to catch up on."

Shepard pursed her lips and blew a raspberry. "Fine, fine! Party pooper."

The next few weeks were hard on the crew; the loss of Thessia had especially taken its toll. Despite the hardship, James and Garrus (and Steve sometimes too) kept up their lessons. It had become a way for them to decompress and have a little fun, to escape the bleak world outside. Garrus hoped that his hard work would pay off, that he could bring Shepard a measure of happiness and fun. But the day before the date, he started to get cold feet.

"Do you think I'm ready?" Garrus' leg twitched as he leaned against the wall of the armory. "My parada is a little clumsy, it didn't feel that great last time. And the timing..."

"Whoa, whoa there. Relax amigo! You'll do fine. Lola's going to love it, I promise. You've come a long way," James reassured him.

"You're gonna kill it, Garrus," added Steve. He flashed a cheerful, pearly smile.

James finished putting away the spare ammo and closed the cabinet door. "And I'll be there, for moral support. I'll grab a beer, hang out at the bar, act like I'm just there for a drink."

"Thanks, Vega, really. She really needs this."

"No sweat, Scars!" James held out his hand and the two men shook hands heartily. "I'm happy for you."