In effect, Lorik had given Tanith permission to accept, even enjoy, the advances she'd been receiving from Garrus Vakarian, and so far it was making her days a pleasant kind of hell.

Turians were always a fascination for her, and when she come to the Normandy SR2 Kelly Chambers exploited her crush and lust for the weapons specialist mercilessly. It was with a twinge of nostalgia and grief that Tanith remembered this, smiling ruefully as the memory surfaced while her hands were busy at work.

Often at the requisitions console, sifting through the mods their missions made available to them or the Commander salvaged/stole/found/looted on her various travels throughout the 'verse, it was easy for the words and letters to blur, a pleasant mental auto-pilot that kept her sane and busy. But the past few days, Garrus Vakarian kept finding reasons to 'drop by' and commandeer replicated mods for his beloved sniper rifle.

She'd seen the well-loved weapon in the forward battery, in a constant state of improvement and so completely customized it was hard to guess what the original model had even been. If Frankenstein was a sniper rifle and had class, that gun would be it. She knew for a fact that he didn't need to go through the stores via comm; his contacts would ship him whatever he wanted, from people who weren't technically merchants, giving him access to any of the mods at a price even she couldn't conjure.

No, he came down to the shuttle deck just to torture her. She was certain of this.

It would start with a greeting from behind her when he left the elevator doors, silent footsteps to get about six inches away from her ear and rumble a 'good morning, Delano' in the lowest register she could hear. It always, always, *always* sent vibrations from her ears to her toes, pooling in her hips for a few percious moments that would make her hands falter in their ceaseless cataloguing.

And it wasn't always in the morning, oh no. He made sure to randomize his visits. It set her on pleasant edge and often had her looking over her shoulder whenever she heard the elevator accessed.

But while her days were so busy and ... interesting, her nights were another matter.

The first time she had night terrors in the quarters she shared with the rest of the crew, she'd managed to stop the scream before it burst from her, sitting up so fast she almost hit her head on the bunk above her. Looking around, she was relieved to find everyone else on her sleeping shift still resting, the crewmen quarters silent save for the muted thrumming of the Normandy's engines.

Despite her relief, though, the images of the nightmare were still too vivid. She was unable to get back to sleep.

It was hard to feel rested on three hours, but she made do often enough. Coffee and stims helped, but she couldn't survive on them forever.

And the dreams would always come back.

She managed most times to stifle herself but she was never able to sleep afterwards. It was on a shift such as this when, alone in the mess hall, a cup of coffee steaming in front of her, Garrus caught her with her head in her hands.

"Hey..." came the reverberating tones of her second favorite Turian. Her head came up in surprise.

"Hey," she replied without thinking. She blinked at him. "What are you doing up?"

He slid into the seat across from her, a dextro version coffee in his hands. "I was about to ask you the same thing. You humans sleep more than my species does." He sipped his drink. "Bad dreams?" he asked playfully, mandibles quirking in a smile.

Tanith felt herself flinch, and looked away.

"Oh." He managed to sound embarassed. "Damn. Sorry, I was just-"

"No," she mumbled, turning back to him with a small smile. "Lucky guess."

"Heh." Silence. A sip. Then- "Do you want to talk about it?"

Tanith closed her eyes. Red hair. Shattered bone and spraying blood. She took a slow, deep breath.

"No," she whispered. "Not yet."

The silence and the look on Garrus's face had her squirming with discomfort in record time. This wasn't what she wanted, not right now. She needed to wake up from her nightmare, not relive it. She needed a distraction.

"So, how about you?" she asked, pulling herself together enough to smile at him. He returned the expression, shrugging.

"Like I said, Turians don't sleep as long as you humans do. We tend to sleep for about four hours, and it's enough. I blame it on the military life; it's hard to sleep for long when you could die, violently, at any moment." The tone was too amused to take the words as anything but teasing, despite the truth to them. "No, this is usually when I take advantage of the hour and steal Vega's punching bag, go a few rounds."

Tanith laughed. "To keep in shape or to piss him off?"

A smug smile. "Both." He sipped from his cup. "How about you? Does Cerberus even offer hand-to-hand combat in pro-human, xenophobic warrior training?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "You know they did. Just because we didn't go out on the field, doesn't mean we weren't ready to. Though," she snorted, "Didn't mean crap against the Collectors. But to be fair, they cheated; it's hard to punch a tiny, zipping little bug in the face or kick it in the kneecaps."

Garrus laughed and stood up. "Excuses, excuses. Come on."

She blinked up at him. "What? Where?"

"You're going to work out with me."

"Garrus Vakarian, are you calling me fat?"

"Don't get me wrong, there's nothing bad about a little jiggle to a woman's- OW! Hey! That's not fair, we aren't on the mats yet-"

It was quiet in the shuttlebay, easy to forget there was a war on despite the nature of what they were doing. Getting lost in the old forms and habits (was it really so long ago?) was surprisingly easy, but Tanith had to concede that Garrus was much better than she.

Even with Cerberus' emphasis on fighting non-human opponents, he out-matched her in both experience and strength and reach, but she was quick and flexible. More than once his eyes went wide when she managed to undulate out of the way, bending backwards or twisting sharply as she ducked and evaded. He was starting to catch on, however, and it was getting harder to dodge his grabs and strikes.

So she decided to play dirty.

After tumbling backwards and out of the way, panting, hands raised in an easy defensive posture, she grinned at him.

"So," she began casually, watching his shirtless torso with interest as muscles tensed; he was preparing to lunge. "My boyfriend thinks you're quite fuckable."

She wasn't sure what did it; her use of a swear word (she was notorious for never, ever uttering more than the mildest of epithets), or her chosen topic. Either way, it had the desired effect.

Garrus, his eyes going wide in surprise, tripped over his own feet and landed flat on his scarred face.

It was over-kill, the most undignified thing Tanith had ever seen. And the funniest.

She didn't stop laughing even when he managed to stand and stalk over to her, flat on her ass and arms on her knees. When he crossed his arms across his chest, glaring down at her, she tried to rein it in but oh, it was so difficult.

Eventually he gave up and plopped down next to her, also breathing hard. His mandibles flicked, Garrus flustered, and she could see the flush of blue rising in his face. It made it easier to calm herself down.

"Why Mr. Vakarian. I do believe that's a blush I see."

"You cheated. Again."

Still chuckling, she managed to press a hand to her chest and look offended. "What! Me?" She grinned. "Only a little. I had to. You were going to beat me."

"Hmph." He reached over and grabbed his shirt, fiddling with the fabric like he couldn't decide whether to redress or haul himself to a shower. "I can't believe you talked to your boyfriend about me."

She twitched an eyebrow upward. "I had to. I needed to know what I was getting in to. Despite what you may think, I'm not all that familiar with the customs of your species. And Lorik Qui'in isn't your typical Turian in most ways. He's apparently a bad example."

Garrus snorted. "I can relate, trust me." He leaned back on his hands. "So... he thinks I'm... what was the word you used?"

This time, Tanith found it was her turn to blush. "Um... attractive?"

He grinned at her and leaned towards her. "That wasn't the word, Delano."

She ducked her head and threw her knuckle wraps at him. "I know it wasn't, but I don't think I can pull it off again without feeling threatened. It was a one time thing. Until I think you're going to jump me again-"

She should have seen it coming.

His hand was around her ankle and yanking her forwards, and before she knew it she was on her back and pinned to the floor, blue eyes boring in to her, a half-naked Turian straddling her.

"Holy crap, Vakarian-"

"Say it."

"No!" she laughed, squirming. "This doesn't count! You're not...not really going to... uh... to..." He was leaning closer, doing that purr thing that Lorik did when he was really, really, really aroused. She bit her lip. It was getting really warm in here.

She felt his breath on her cheek, his hands linked to hers, pinning them somewhere above her head.

Now it was getting hard to think. Closing her eyes, she took a long, deep breath, smelling gun oil, spice, and something specific to Garrus Vakarian. She gave in.

"Fuckable," she whispered with a half smile, opening her eyes to look up at him. "He's quite attracted to you and the idea that you ... might ... like me."

"Oh is he?" he murmured.

"Something about being a nubile young man."

He blinked and laughed at that, sitting up, releasing her hands and leaning on his thighs. "That... is not a description I ever expected to receive."

She grinned and shrugged, pulling herself up to lean back on her elbows. "Yeah well... Lorik's a dirty old man."

"Mmm." He stood up slowly, reluctantly, offering her help up. She accepted, feeling both relieved and disappointed. "You know, I've met him before. I never would have guessed at the depth of his depravity then."

She caught the towel he tossed her, wiping her face before pulling it around her neck. She tried to glare at him. "What, having a kink for humans is depraved?" She almost managed a straight face. Almost.

Garrus laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle that her rocking to her toes in delight. "No. Unusual, maybe, but hardly depraved. I mean, you humans aren't that dissimilar to the Asari, and we've been knocking boots with those blue beauties for centuries." He tapped the call button when they reached the elevators, stepping in after her when the doors opened. "No, I'm refering more to his corruption of you into a xenophile." He waggled his brow-plates at her.

She'd been taking a drink from her water-bottle when he said that, inhaling sharply and coughing violently for a few seconds. And then she was laughing.

"Hate to tell you this, Vakarian," she choked, "but that achievement is actually all yours." She was blushing again. Dammit.

Silence reigned, even when the doors opened on the crew floor. He was staring at her. "You're kidding."

She pointed to her pink face. "See this? This would happen every time I met with you, remember? Back before the Collector mission. Didn't you think it was weird that I could barely speak to you when I took your requisition orders?"

"Honestly? I just thought you were being shy. Seriously, this whole time you've been... I mean that's just..." He seemed at an actual lost, and she was pretty amused by it. He was rubbing the back of his neck, mandibles flaring in a sheepish grin. "Huh. So then... on Omega..." He peered at her. "Is that story about the fetish convention and the auction nonsense all true?"

She was blushing again, trying not to stumble as she left the elevator and head towards the women's showers. "Well... I figured if I was going to pursue you, I need some hands on research," she muttered.

She turned away, flustered, but a sneaky finger caught the back of her pants, dragging her backwards and around. Garrus settled his hands on her shoulders, peering down at her.

"You know," he murmured. "I never considered cross-species intercourse before... before..." His eyes flicked to her neck, to the scarring mark there. Tanith swallowed dryly. "Not that you're unattractive or anything, but... I never really thought it possible. And then you had to run off and let the Hanshan Administrator bite you and now it's all I wonder about."

Oh god. Well, if ever Tani needed a distraction from her bad dreams, here it was...

But...

She frowned a little. "So it's curiosity, then, that feeds the desire?" It couldn't be helped; that idea stung a little and the hurt bled into her voice. "It's something to be indulged and then... what? It works for you or it doesn't?"

Garrus drew back a little, surprised. He withdrew his touch from her. "That's not exactly how I meant-"

She held up a hand, sighing, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No, no. It's ... I was stupid to think that I could actually-" and she cut herself off. The heat still resonated through her bones but the anxiety and melancholy was cooling it all into nothing. She dropped her hands and looked up at him. "Look, Vakarian... maybe... I'm just not built for all this attention. I mean... I can barely focus on one turian lover, and I can't tell if you want me because I'm me or because I'm human and it'd be such a novelty. And regardless of biology, I'm having a hard time wrapping my brains around the notion of multiple lovers, or polyamoury, or whatever." She was babbling. She was babbling because she was confused, and stressed.

God dammit, I hate it when I do this.

Garrus was staring at her with a look she couldn't decipher, and while her mouth had more to say, her head didn't. Lost, she stared back at him for a moment, before abruptly turning around and heading into the women's showers, leaving him there to watch her go. Again.