"Commander Shepard." Shepard's thoughts were jolted from the datapads before her as the AI's voice called for her attention over the intercom.
"Yes, EDI?"
"Lieutenant Vega has requested that you meet him in the shuttle bay at 17:30 this evening. He also instructed that you 'dress to kill.' Commander, is there an upcoming mission that I have yet to be informed of?" Shepard chuckled softly at EDI's misunderstanding.
"No, EDI. 'Dressed to kill' means…well, why don't you ask Joker? I'm sure he'd be happy to explain it."
"I will do that, Commander." As the intercom clicked off, Shepard let out a loud laugh, imagining the way the conversation might go. Ever since she'd loaded herself up into that body, EDI's sense of humor had, well, not exactly blossomed, since many of her jokes were god awful, but it had grown. She was eager to learn human idioms, and anxious to master the art of sarcasm, and her pursuits always managed to quirk the corners of Shepard's mouth, even when the stress of waging a galactic war was weighing her down. She let out a sigh as her thoughts shifted to EDI's message. Be in the shuttle bay and dressed to kill, huh? What in the world could James have up his sleeve? And why go through EDI? He'd never been so…indirect and mysterious before. She spun her chair from side to side as she wondered about what he had in mind. They'd left the Citadel well behind a few days ago, and there weren't any major stations or planets in the area they were passing through on their way to the Perseus Veil.
Dressed to kill. Shepard's civvies options were slim, but as luck would have it, Kasumi Goto had sent her a rather nice cocktail dress in return for a recent favor. It was still in its box, shoved under her bed. Along with some other feminine accessories that the thief kept sending her way. Ever since that one little mission they went on together, Kasumi had been trying to get her to wear more stylish clothing, insisting she had been a knock out in the dress she had worn. She walked over to her bed, and with a slight grunt, kneeled down on the floor and dragged out several colorful boxes. She flipped several of them open and managed to find the dress she was looking for, as well as a pair of strappy heels, a thin silver necklace, some sheer black thigh highs, and a bottle of perfume claiming to smell like black currant and vanilla. Not exactly her style, but her choices were limited, and it was the most modest outfit she could pull together out of what Kasumi had sent her way. She'd much rather just go down in uniform, of course, but it was getting harder for her to say no to James these days. She didn't want to disappoint him or ruin whatever he was plotting. She took the items out and laid everything out on her bed for later, and after giving it a once over and a satisfactory nod, she returned to her work, though she was finding it strangely hard to concentrate.
The Normandy mess had been completely taken over by Lieutenant James Vega. Several pieces of faded paper were scattered on the counter, covered in fluid handwriting. The oven and every burner on the stove were occupied by some delicious smelling dish. Spicy and sweet aromas drifted out of the kitchen area, watering the mouths of those crew members who had stopped in for an early dinner. James waved away the curious, or threatened them as necessary, and suggested they make a sandwich and get out of his way…or he'd call Garrus Vakarian to remove them. The Turian was curious about the strange smells, and regularly walked out of the gunnery control room to take a look at James's progress, and shoot a glare at any stragglers. The Turian and the Lieutenant had become good friends during their time aboard the Normandy. Garrus was one of Shepard's oldest and closest friends, and once James had earned her trust, he found himself frequently out on the field with the skilled sniper and the Commander.
"What is that slimy looking goop you just pulled out of the oven?" the Turian's gravely voice inquired. James chuckled.
"That 'slimy goop' is my secret weapon. It's going to end the night with a nice glass of this wine I managed to sneak on board. It's called flan. My abuela said it was a sure way to a woman's heart. Be great if I had some strawberries to go with it, but I didn't have time to find any last time we docked at the Citadel. Not with that Cerberus mess. Barely managed to find what I was able to get my hands on." Garrus gazed over the mound of dirty and occupied dishes.
"Seems you managed to find enough. I know you eat like a Krogan; are you sure there's enough food there?" Garrus asked with amusement. James rolled his eyes.
"There might be some left, but the mess makes it look like more than there really is. Speaking of the mess…" The Turian's mandibles twitched.
"Did you get it?"
"I would have attached it to your snipe myself if I hadn't known you'd kill me for touching it." Garrus laughed and turned to leave.
"Hey, you may be good with that hideous bulk you call a gun, but a sniper rifle requires precision and delicate care. It only fires right for its master. And it's calling for him now. I'll send Cortez up to help you haul all that down." With a wave of his hand, Garrus left to visit the armory, leaving James to add the finishing touches to the meal he was preparing.
When the elevator door opened, James didn't even have to turn around from adding the final touches to the table setting to know it was her. The awkward clacking of heels gave her away immediately. Shepard looked around the oddly quiet room. No Cortez doing maintenance on the Kodiak, no crewmen chatting off in the corner, no one fitting weapons together on the workbench. It was quiet enough to actually hear the near imperceptible hum of the ship. As her eyes traveled around the room, they stopped with surprise on a table in the center of the shuttle bay, covered with hidden dishes and set up for a meal for two.
"What in the world…."
"Lola! Glad you could make it. Welcome to Café de Vega." To her surprise, Shepard's heart skipped a beat as her eyes settled on the Lieutenant. He cleaned up well in black cargo pants, combat boots, a green Henley that brought out his eyes (and his pecs), a leather jacket, and an excited grin. He hurried over to her, excited and nervous, and held out one of his large hands. She took it, gratefully, already teetering on her heels. She could fight on just about any terrain and keep her footing, but these damn shoes…. The shoes she had worn to go dancing a few weeks prior had been lower to the ground, with a wider base and heel. Kasumi had called these strappy death traps stilettos, and they were more challenging to walk in than taking down a Brute. James led his commander to the table, pulled out a chair, and helped Shepard sit down before pushing the chair back in. He then leaned down to whisper near her ear.
"You look fantastic, by the way." He grinned at the slight blush he saw rise in her cheeks. True, the dress covered a bit more than he would have liked. The slightly scooped neck rested just below her collarbone, and the capped sleeves sat on the edges of her shoulders, but the material clung to her body in just the right way. The skirt was knee length, revealing only her smooth and muscular calves; her heels brought her height just above his. He lingered over long behind her chair as his eyes took everything in. With a slight clearing of his throat, he walked over to his workbench on the side of the room and turned on some quiet music – a lone Spanish guitar. When he came back, he had two filled wine glasses in his hands, which he sat down before joining her at the table. As he removed the make shift covers from the dishes, he announced each one with pride.
"For this evening's meal, I present Vega's Abuela's Home Cooked Comforts. First, a classic, arroz con pollo, with honest to goodness synthesized chicken. Next, a little sweet tomalito. On the side, abuela's handmade tortillas. For dessert…a surprise for later." He ended by patting a final covered dish with a grin. Shepard stared at the genuine feast set before her.
"You…you made all of this? On the ship?" James beamed across the table at her.
"I did indeed, belleza. I scoured the Citadel for some of these ingredients, though I'm sorry to report I couldn't find real chicken. My abuela would scold me for soiling her recipe, but it can't be helped. She never had to cook on a starship." Shepard let out a quiet laugh that quickened James's heartbeat. Hearing her laugh was a rare blessing. "Well, let's dig in, Lola." He allowed Shepard to serve herself first, then piled food onto his own plate. As he chewed his first bite, he nodded with satisfaction, content that the dish had come out as well as expected with the ingredients he had available. He glanced across at Shepard, who had the most beautiful smile on her face, even as she rather indelicately shoveled the food into her mouth. They ate in silence, thrilled to be eating something more than the basic food stuffs the Alliance provided their ships. When their plates had been cleaned, Shepard broke the silence.
"So. You mentioned dessert?" James broke into laughter. She looked so happy sitting there, a good meal in her belly, and the promise of something delicious to come. She screwed her face up into a cross between a glare and a pout, which only made him laugh harder. Growing impatient, she gave him a kick under the table. He grunted in surprise, but managed to regain his composure. She'd removed her shoes at some point during the dinner, so he was spared the sharp point of the stiletto heel.
"All right, Lola, all right." He smiled and removed the cover of the final dish. Underneath sat two beautifully caramelized custards, one for each of them. Shepard let out a small gasp of surprise.
"Why, James, I had no idea you were such a master chef." He blushed, which brought a triumphant grin to her face, cleared his throat, and divided the custards onto small plates, setting one before Shepard before settling down into his seat with his own. Shepard startled him, nearly causing him to drop his utensil, by letting out a small moan as she slid the first bite into her mouth. "Oh…it just melts…."
"Yeah, uh…thanks, Lola. I'm glad you like it." He cleared his throat and took his own first bite, but he was too distracted by the surreally sensual way Shepard was savoring each bite of flan to properly taste it himself. He had to create a diversion.
"So, Lola. What do you think you'll do once this whole war is over with?" Shepard blinked at him, her hand frozen halfway to her mouth.
"When it's over?" she repeated, surprised by his question. There was too much going on in the present for her to have given the idea much thought. She set the scoop of flan back down onto its plate with a soft clack. "I…hadn't really thought about it. Not yet. A nice long vacation would be nice…." James chuckled softly.
"That's not what I meant, Lola. I mean after. In the future." He watched her tilt her head and glance off at nothing in particular as she thought.
"I'm not sure. My life has been nothing but this war for a long time. What about you, James? What are your plans for the future?" James didn't have to ponder long before answering, clearly having given this subject some thought.
"Well, I imagine there will be some clean up right after. Wiping out the Reaper stragglers. Lots of rebuilding. The Normandy will be busy for a while, and I don't plan to leave her. But eventually, I'd like to settle down somewhere. On Earth, so I can show my kids and grandkids the land we fought to take back." Shepard was silent for a moment, then took a sip of wine, hiding her face partially behind the glass when she finally spoke.
"Oh. I see. Well, that's something nice to look forward to, James. I wish you all the best." James stared at her, confused by her suddenly flat voice and the shadowing of her features.
"You wish me all the best? Lola, I…. Am I that stupid? I thought you and me…." He trailed off as she looked away. Shepard was quickly growing uncomfortable with the conversation, though he couldn't pin point why. He had thought they were making progress. She'd finally talked things out with Alenko. They were stealing kisses on every deck. She had found solace in his arms over the deaths of her friends. The thought that she might be toying with him flared his Latin temper. "Shepard, are you fucking with me?" He immediately regretted his harsh tone when she turned back to him, eyes pained and close to tears.
"James, you can't have that dream with me," she spoke softly with a sad smile.
"What? What do you…I don't…. What's that supposed to mean?" he spluttered, trying to comprehend her actions and words.
"Miranda told me once," she began in a quiet, strained voice, "that despite her personal feelings toward me, she had wanted more than anything to give me the ability to bear a child, since she could not. But there are some things you just can't replace." James's eyes went wide as he realized what she was saying, then he silently cursed himself.
"Lola…oh, girl…." He got up from his seat and went over to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind. "I'm sorry, Shepard. I never should have assumed…. It doesn't matter. It really doesn't matter." He planted a gentle kiss on her temple. "I just want to be with you, OK? You understand, yeah? If you can put up with an idiot like me." Shepard raised a hand and lightly squeezed his arm, then leaned her head into the soft leather covering it.
"James, it's OK. I'll understand, so you don't have to-"
"Lola!" James growled slightly with frustration as he interrupted her. "No, you don't understand." He grabbed hold of her shoulders and pulled her up out of her chair, spun her around, and smothered her lips with a passionate kiss. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her body against his. Shepard gasped for air when their lips finally parted, but did not attempt to pull away. She didn't speak, either, but instead laid her ahead against his chest. He could feel the heat of her breath through his shirt, and her hands slowly slipping inside his jacket as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He took one of his own hands and lifted her face so he could plant a series of gentler kisses on her lips. As his tongue teased her, Shepard left out a soft whimper, which he took as a cue to part her lips and deepen their kiss. Her arms squeezed tightly around his waist, and Vega broke the kiss to trail his lips across her jaw line. Shepard's breath quickened as he kissed her earlobe and moved on to her neck. Soft at first, his kisses soon became hungry, and he found that the sleeves and collar of her dress were in his way. He grabbed hold of the sleeves and gave the garment a few tugs, revealing her shoulders and the top swell of her breasts. He grazed his teeth along the newly exposed skin, eliciting a pleasurable moan from Shepard, followed by her hands moving to his chest, where they pushed against him, breaking their embrace.
"James…that's enough…" she panted, trying to regain control of her body. He blinked at her in surprise, hands still gripping the fabric of her dress.
"What?" She looked away from him, a blush of embarrassment darkening her already flushed cheeks.
"I think…we should call it a night." She took a few steps back and he released her, though he remained confused.
"I don't understand." Shepard readjusted her dress as she gathered her thoughts.
"And I don't have to explain myself. James, let's not ruin this perfect evening, OK?" He blinked at her, confused and dejected.
"All right. Yeah. Whatever you want, Commander." James held his hands up in defeat, and Shepard winced as he used her rank to address her, something he rarely did these days. She could tell he was hurt, but it wasn't something she wished to discuss with him at present. Their date had been wonderful, but she wasn't ready to give him more. She'd lost two very dear friends in quick succession. She'd only just had a very serious talk with Kaidan about their past relationship, and he'd been the last man she'd slept with, over three years ago. She didn't want to jump into bed with James thinking that she was using him to alleviate her grief, or as a replacement for what she'd lost during the two years she'd been dead. He deserved more, and she wanted to be sure she could give everything over to him without regret. With a sigh, she turned to go.
"Thank you, James. It really was a lovely dinner." James watched her go, and when the elevator door closed behind her, let out a string of curses in Spanish. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but decided that he must have screwed up somewhere. With a sigh of irritation, he turned to the table to start cleaning up, and noticed Shepard's shoes beneath the table. The image of her standing in them entered his head, and he couldn't seem to get it to leave. He was going to need a cold shower tonight.
ORIGINAL ENDING - When I first finished this up, I was really unhappy with the ending. I felt it was awkward and totally fell apart. After some thought, I rewrote it into what you read above. But I thought I'd go ahead and include the original if anyone wanted to compare.
"James…that's enough…" she panted, trying to regain control of her body. He blinked at her in surprise, hands still gripping the fabric of her dress.
"What?" She looked away from him, a blush of embarrassment darkening her already flushed cheeks.
"I think…we should call it a night." She took a few steps back and he released her, though he remained confused.
"I don't understand." Shepard readjusted her dress as she gathered her thoughts.
"James, this…this was such a wonderful evening. Perfect. And I've seen a whole new side of you tonight, which I'm so happy you showed to me. But…. So much has been going on lately. I'm sorry, James, I'm just…I'm not ready for that, yet." James chewed his lip, clearly disappointed.
"But you do want to, right?" Shepard's eyes snapped back to him, her face immediately apologetic.
"Of course! Just…not tonight. Can you give me some time? It's…well, it's been a few years for me, you know?" James looked at her in confusion for a moment, until what she said dawned on him. The last time she'd slept with someone had been with the Major, at least three years ago. He trusted that she'd moved on from him, but he also knew it hadn't been easy. He groaned and mumbled a Spanish curse under his breath. This woman could face down a horde of Ravagers, but her heart was as fragile as anyone else's. And of course he knew that already, after the Salarian and the Drell. He'd been careless, as usual.
"All right, belleza." He reached out to touch her face, and when she did not draw back, slowly leaned in and brushed her lips with a light kiss. She smiled at him, which drew out a smile of his own. "I'll say goodnight then, yeah?"
"Yes. Goodnight, James. And thank you. It really was an amazing evening."