A/N: Two super fluffy chapters incoming. ENJOY!
Addicted - Waldeck
While Shepard travelled underwater to find the Leviathan, Garrus and Javik killed off the few remaining Reaper forces.
"Turian! Your left!"
A Cannibal was charging at him, so he used concussive shot to send it flying into the water surrounding them. He whipped around to whack a Marauder in the face with the butt of his rifle before turning another 90 degrees to snipe a far off husk. A strong hand gripped the back of his neck, pushing him to the ground before he felt the air around him shift with dark energy while Javik used slam to decimate a husk. Garrus rolled back onto his feet and switched to his assault rifle before using overload on a Marauder, causing it to twitch on the spot before he destroyed it with a round to the face. In the corner of his eye he saw Javik's dark channel fly by his face, sending the final husk collapsing to the ground.
The Prothean may have had tendencies to be an ass, but the man could undoubtedly fight.
"Good work, Javik," he said after jogging to catch up with him to rendezvous with Cortez at the Kodiak.
"You as well, turian. But you must not only see the battle around you, but feel it. You allow enemies to get too close to you, it can be dangerous."
Garrus shrugged. "A little rifle to the face can be fun sometimes."
"Until there are many enemies."
Garrus conceded, but he saw that Javik had a peculiar amused expression on his face. When he was about to inquire, Cortez was in their sights waving them over.
"Guess we're waiting for the Commander," Cortez called out as they neared him. "Not like that's anything new for the shuttle driver, I have a PhD in sitting around and waiting."
"Well, you have some company today," Garrus chided, taking a seat next to him. Javik stood awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with sitting on the job.
"Come on, Javik buddy, you're allowed to sit down sometimes," Cortez said. "Not like we can do much while the Commander's under water anyways other than keep a Reaper watch, and I have all the scanners going on the Kodiak."
With a frown glued on his face, Javik took a seat next to Garrus, still appearing to be clearly uncomfortable. "In my cycle, camaraderie was reserved for battle and victory only."
"Well that's why we're better," Cortez joked, slapping Garrus on the shoulder. "If a turian can pull the stick out of his ass and hang out, so can you."
"What are we expected to do?" Javik grumbled. "Speak of the weather?"
"We can talk about the war, or things in our lives outside of the war. I'm sure you have some damn interesting stories, Javik."
"You would not be interested in the tales of my people." His tone had a finality to it that Garrus and Cortez grudgingly accepted. The men sat in an awkward silence that was only broken once by Garrus's stomach growling.
Desperate to clear the silence, Cortez asked, "So, Garrus, how are things with the Commander? You guys look pretty happy."
"Yes, we-"
"The turian intends to ask her to bond with him," Javik interjected.
This time, the silence was stunned. Cortez stared open-mouthed at Garrus, Garrus stared open-mouthed at Javik, and Javik stared into the water looking distinctly unperturbed. "What?" Javik finally asked. "Did you not wish for others to know?"
"It's what's called a secret, Javik," Garrus growled.
"Primitives," the Prothean grumbled.
"How do you know, anyways?" Garrus demanded. He had let a few choice people in on his decision, but he made the necessity for secrecy very clear.
"I can read you like a datapad from touching you, turian. It occupies your mind so greatly it is the first thing I read."
"You're going to ask Shepard to marry you?" Cortez asked in a hushed voice.
Garrus let out a long sigh. "I've been thinking about it, yes."
Cortez's hands wrapped around his arm, his grip surprisingly firm and his eyes glowing with excitement. "When are you going to propose? And how? Do you have a ring yet? This is so exciting!"
Although the idea of the proposal had been at the forefront of his mind for weeks, he was afraid to admit how much he had planned out. The idea had come to him when he had met her parents, and he only hoped that she would be pleased enough to accept his hand in marriage.
He settled on saying, "I have some ideas, nothing concrete."
"Well tell me your ideas, let me help you plan! I won't tell a soul."
"Primitives and their foolish ceremonies," Javik growled.
Garrus leaned in to whisper to Cortez. "There is something small you can help me with. See if you can convince Shepard to take up Hackett's offer for shore leave on the Citadel soon, and we need to get everyone to convince her to throw a party once we're there."
There ain't no rest for the wicked, Shepard though to herself. She must have been damn wicked, because she sure as hell hadn't been getting any rest, even when Hackett handed it to her on a silver platter.
First it was the attack during her sushi meal with Joker. Then it was the absolutely ridiculous stunt by the clone to capture her in a vault and take her ship.
A clone. Of all things. Life as Commander Shepard never fails to grow stranger.
But she had thrown the cursed Cerberus creature out of the cargo hold, and for a brief day and night cycle the whole crew was permitted a restful shore leave. Although, restful didn't seem to be what they wanted: everyone was so persistent about a party that she had to oblige (frankly she wanted nothing more than to have the apartment for herself and Garrus to explore as thoroughly as they explored the ship, but a good party would take second place).
She stepped into the apartment to clean up and change from her armour to her civvies and found it to be empty. Entirely empty. It threw her off, having such a large space solely for herself, but why not take advantage of it?
The music selection was disappointing at best, so she queued up Pink Floyd's Animals album and jogged upstairs to the master bedroom - her bedroom - to remove her battered armour and sodden underarmour. She slipped everything off and threw it into a pile under the oversized vid screen before sprinting and performing a small cannon ball maneuver into the hot tub. Every jet was turned on and a languid sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back and allowed the water to massage her aching muscles.
When her skin resembled a sun-dried tomato she pulled herself out of the tub, applying jasmine-scented lotion over her skin and dressing. The Animals album had ended so she opted for Jimi Hendrix Experience's Are You Experienced?
As the warm tones of Hendrix's guitar filled the apartment, energy and excitement filled her at the prospect of the day ahead. Time to relax with her crew, enjoying the sights and sounds of the Citadel, was exactly what she needed in the middle of the madness of the Reaper war and the loss of her mother.
As she turned to go down the stairs, the sight of the rail stopped her. It looked long, smooth, and incredibly tempting for her to ride down the stairs; and that was exactly what she did, letting out a cry of excitement as she was launched off the end. She slid in her socked feet into the kitchen, waving her hips from side to side as Hendrix began to solo, his sweet licks giving her more energy than any coffee. She pulled a can of soda out of the fridge and drank it all in one go, belching and giggling in satisfaction. Continually waving her hips from side to side she began to whip together a fried egg sandwich, dancing across the kitchen in time with the drums.
The music was so loud she didn't hear the door slip open.
The sandwich cooked and eaten, 'Fire' began to play. She slid again across the smooth linen kitchen floor into the living room, her hips shaking violently and her head bobbing as she sang tunelessly. She picked up her invisible guitar and began to dance with reckless abandon around the living room as she soloed, throwing her hair back and singing to the heavens.
"LET ME STAND NEXT TO YOUR FIRE!" she screamed, spinning around to sing to the invisible audience at the door.
All of the air left her lungs at the horrendously embarrassing realization that there was an audience.
Garrus was clutching his sides as he was doubled over, laughing.
"Fuck," she muttered, running to turn off the music, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," he gasped between gales of laughter. "Shepard, wait. I'm not laughing at your dancing, nothing makes me happier than seeing you let go that way. I've just never seen anyone play an invisible guitar, never mind with such enthusiasm."
"I'm so embarrassed," she muttered, her cheeks growing more and more red.
"Don't be!" He pulled her tightly into his chest. "I love seeing you dance."
"You and I both know I'm an awful dancer."
He pulled out of the hug so he could kiss her. "Come with me, I have an idea."
Her eyes narrowed and her brow rose into an expression of skepticism. "Where are we going?"
"Just trust me." He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the apartment without another word. Although she expressed disdain at being dragged around to an unknown location, she followed with minimal further protest until they reached the casino.
"What is this? Are we-" He abruptly shushed her, which placed an unhappy smile on her face. He pulled her upstairs and stopped when they reached a small dance floor, currently filled with patrons.
"You have got to be kidding me," she growled. She turned to run but he was too quick and grabbed her, pulling her tight to his chest as a new song began.
"Garrus? Garrus!" she protested as he began to swing her across the floor, the other dancers immediately scattering to avoid her gracelessness. But when he pulled her in so that her face was only inches from his as he stared into the depths of her soul, his eyes filled with nothing but love, she began to accept her fate. Her clumsiness was offset by his surprising grace; they had danced together before, but not like this, with him leading like he knew every step while her feet willingly followed his. In a moment of daring she wrapped a leg around his hip, the returning gaze from him setting fire to the depths of her belly.
The song slowed and he grabbed her lower back and dipped her low, bringing his face down so that it was inches from hers, his eyes glued on her while his breath tickled and subsequently parted her lips.
"Zoey Shepard." His voice was deep and his subvocals had taken on an unfamiliar tone; but from them she could feel white-hot desire and a deep longing.
"Will you marry me?"