Hostile Takeover

This chapter did not do what it was supposed to. :/ I hope everyone enjoys it anyway.

Kaidan finished up his last report for the day. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the interface. The subtle hiss of hydraulics caught his attention, and he looked up. When Shepard walked out of her quarters in civvies, Kaidan did a double take. His first thought was that she was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. His second thought was that he was a fool for even thinking it. She was his commanding officer and a friend who had a lot of shit on her shoulders.

Shepard rarely, if ever, wore anything but fatigues or dress blues while aboard the Normandy – and she only wore dress blues if she had a meeting with the Council. Her appearance threw him. Though her attire wasn't form-fitting, it still enhanced her curves and drew his eye more so than seeing her in fatigues. He found he had to check himself before speaking to her. Her dark denim pants were pressed and center-pleated, loose against her legs but tailored to fit the curves of her hips.

She'd also chopped her brown hair back into different lengths and the loose tendrils framed her heart-shaped face, enhancing her cheekbones and partially hiding the scar on her brow. The dark-green color of her boat-necked sweater combined with darkness of her hair enhanced the translucence of her skin under the light of Normandy's overheads. The color also brought out the green flecks in her copper eyes as she closed the distance between her door and Kaidan's duty station.

Her lips looked moist. Lip balm?

He swallowed thickly, averting his eyes, and scrubbed a hand through his hair, over his face. Her words weeks ago came back to him: "Lot of static on the comm, Alenko."

"Lieutenant?"

He opened his eyes. "Ma'am." She rested her hip against his desk. His gaze trailed up the length of her body before resting on her face. The dark circles were still beneath her eyes.

"You alright?" she asked, concerned.

Shit.

He nodded. "Touch of a headache," he lied. "Nothing major." He gestured with his datapad. "Long day."

That part wasn't a lie.

He stopped short of asking how she was doing. Instead he pointed at her clothing and asked, "Heading to the Citadel, ma'am?"

She looked down at herself and back to him. Her face was neutral when she responded, "I'm going to have a chat with Dr. Michel. See if she knows anything about this rogue Black Ops group and Banes. Or anything."

"Like that?"

It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He meant to ask, "Like what?" His mouth and brain chose not to cooperate. He stammered as she quirked an eyebrow, amusement flickering briefly across her features.

"Spectre business," she told him with a shrug. "I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to wear what I want, Lieutenant."

"That's not – I mean, of course. Yeah. Ah, yes ma'am. But I didn't mean…" He harrumphed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn. It'd been a long day. "God, I need a drink."

Shepard laughed. It was refreshing to hear even if it was at his expense. "Good to know I can still drive my officers to drink."

Kaidan wanted to tell her she did more to him than that. He only shook his head, and signed out of the system. Standing, he met her gaze evenly. "I'd like to go with you to ask questions, ma'am."

"I'm not going in the capacity of an Alliance officer, Alenko."

He shrugged. "I understand that." He indicated his own uniform. "And I need an excuse to relax."

An hour later, Shepard and Kaidan, who was dressed in civvies himself, stepped off the transport near Dr. Michel's clinic. Kaidan recognized the building, vaguely remembering having a migraine the last time they were there.

"Got a moment, Spectre?"

Both Kaidan and Shepard turned toward the woman's voice as she stepped out of the shadows. Kaidan appraised her frankly, searching for possible weapons, his eyes darting towards her hands. Her fingers were thin and her nails were neat and manicured. Nothing was out of place. Her makeup was immaculate, her gray hair pulled into a bun on the back of her head. She was nondescript in her pin-striped suit. She looked like a well-groomed human business woman. There was nothing remarkable about her.

Shepard seemed to come to the same conclusion. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

The woman scoffed. "I know who you are, Shepard. Your name and face come up in certain… circles." Her gaze flicked to Kaidan. She gave him an assessing once-over before turning her attention back to the Commander. "Besides, Urdnot Wrex told me you would be visiting the doctor on your next layover. It was only a matter of time before you returned and I could track you down."

Shepard looked at Kaidan briefly, worry in her eyes. The look told him to be ready for anything. He was glad he brought his pistol, though he made no move retrieve it from the shoulder harness concealed beneath his leather jacket. Instead, he hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his faded denim slacks and tried to look as unimposing as possible.

"And you are?" Shepard asked the woman.

"My name is Helena Blake, and I have a business proposition for you, Spectre."

Shepard crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "And what makes you certain I'd be interested in this 'business proposition'?"

"I gave Wrex information in exchange for your… expertise in a certain business venture."

Kaidan blinked. Shepard sighed. "Of course you did," she said.

Dr. Michel's clinic was closed for the night cycle by the time Kaidan and Shepard extricated themselves from Ms. Blake's presence. Shepard swore vehemently and marched back towards the transportation service terminal. Kaidan couldn't tell if she was angry with the clinic's closing or angry that Wrex had roped her into a termination contract or just angry to be angry. It was probably all three. It summed up what he felt.

He hurried after her. "Commander."

She forcibly punched the terminal's GUI, her fingertips not registering as they went through the holographic display. Had they registered, Kaidan figured they'd be getting transport to Shin Akiba or another seedy district or worse.

"Commander Shepard. Ma'am."

Kaidan ran a hand through his hair and let out a curse of his own. He'd never seen her like this. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She stilled, hands dropping to her sides. Her shoulder was warm through the coarse material of her sweater. A small tremor went through her.

"Shepard." Kaidan really had no idea what to say to her, but gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get the bastards." He left the idea vague. It surprised him when she reached up and patted his hand.

"Yeah," she breathed. She squeezed his hand. "Yeah."

Releasing her, Kaidan reached around and pulled up the menu to the terminal. POPULAR NIGHTLIFE was the first option to pop up on the screen. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was looking at the terminal too, at where his finger had paused.

POPULAR NIGHTLIFE.

It was a stupid idea. Ridiculous even. There were regs and Shepard was under enough stress without having to worry about breaking them with him.

This was a Bad Idea.

But still: "C'mon. First round's on me, hey?"

She let out a mirthless chuckle. "I'll drink you under the table, Lieutenant."

Stupid. Stupid idea. Bad. Very Bad.

"I'd like to see you try, Commander."

Nearly three hours later, a very drunken Commander Shepard pulled a very drunken Ashley Williams onto the dance floor with her. Williams, Joker, and Garrus all had the same idea and same club in mind that night. Not that Kaidan minded. He clicked his glass against Garrus' and downed yet another shot of whiskey.

Two? Six? How many had he had? Could he even count that high right now? Did it really matter?

Nope.

He signaled the bartender for another round.

"Shepard really has no rhythm," Garrus remarked over the pounding bass and Kaidan's pleasant buzz. Garrus was watching the dance floor with interest.

Kaidan blinked when his eyes trained on Shepard and Ashley. Whoa.

"I think you might be on to something there, Garrus."

Shepard's arms were… flailing about and the rhythm her body was pulsing to (if you wanted to call it pulsing – it was more like convulsing with epileptic fury) was half a beat off the music's tempo. It was like she was racing the tempo. Hip-sway, arm-flail, beat, beat, hip-sway, hip-sway, beat, arm-flail, beat. Then she tossed her head and flailed into the other direction.

But she was smiling. That was the point of coming tonight. Make her relax when she very obviously had no concept of the word. Williams was laughing her ass off, but after a moment she adopted the… the Shepard Flail and both were soon pin-wheeling through the pulsing bodies, swaying their hips and tossing their heads in alternating patterns.

Garrus let out a squawk. "What the hell?"

"I don't think Shepard cares," Kaidan told him. (More like slurred at him.)

"Yeah, but," the turian said, "she could have saved us a little dignity."

Joker laughed from his stool. "Dignity? What was that you attempted earlier?" He waved his arms around a bit. "The Dance of Desperation." He turned back to his drink.

"Like to see you try it, human of glass structure," Garrus said, pride injured. Kaidan examined his translator.

"I like my bones un-broken, thanks, alien of metal."

Garrus changed the subject when Kaidan unhooked his translator from his collar and opened his omni-tool. "Wasn't Liara supposed to come tonight?"

"Said she be by later," the helmsman said. "All we have to do is tell her the Commander's here and she'll come running with open arms."

Garrus studied Kaidan. "Really." Kaidan hunched down in his seat, translator problems forgotten.

"Stop lookin at me, Garrus."

"Not jealous, Kaidan?"

"I have no reason to be."

Joker grinned. "So you and the Commander…?"

Kaidan's brain caught up with the conversation. "What? No." He sighed. "Just friends. Besides. Regs." He smiled as he watched Shepard have fun on the dance floor.

Joker coughed. It sounded distinctly like the word "bullshit."

Ashley stirred. There was light in her eyes.

Oh. Ow.

It felt like something was laying on her. She let out a groan and pushed at whatever was on top of her. It turned out to be the blanket, but whatever. It was heavy, her body was heavy, and her head hurt like a varren was gnawing on it.

And it was hot. Why was it so damn hot?

Hurts to think.

Gooseflesh erupted where she exposed herself. Ash wanted to be too damn cold instead of too damn hot. How much did she have last night? And where were her clothes? She pushed some more of the blankets away and her hand collided with flesh.

"Yeah. Thanks." Joker's voice was muffled. Ash turned her throbbing head. Joker was on his stomach with his head shoved up under a pillow. Ash had uncovered him too. He wasn't wearing any clothes either. Pink scratches scored the expanse of his pale back. There was a dark purple bruise on his shoulder.

"Did we…?" Ash wondered aloud. Well, what a nice romantic evening we must have had. The thought would have been more amusing if she didn't hurt so damn bad. And that bruise on his shoulder looked pretty bad. And…

Oh. God.

"No, I'm just laying here naked for the fun of it," he groused from beneath the pillow. "Thought it'd be a great joke." He pushed the pillow off his head, his short hair sticking up in all directions, and turned to look at her. The silly grin faded as his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, shit. You're not…"