A/N: I've been stuck on domestic fics here lately, so the next round is all post-war Kira/Traynor being cute together in their apartment. There's three fics that all go together, but I'm still tweaking the last one so once that's done, I'll post all of them here; it should be later tonight, or tomorrow at the latest.

To hold you over (since it's been a bit longer that I anticipated), here's a Citadel-inspired piece. Kira's not the type to willingly throw a party, and if she did she'd spend most of it locked in her room working on a gun or omni-tool.

And this is the part where I beg for feedback. I really want to do this pairing justice, so any suggestions/criticisms are extremely helpful!

Give her a malfunctioning gun and she'd have it fixed in an hour, more accurate and efficient than before. Or, point her to a military-grade training course and she'd be through all the obstacles even before her tactical cloak wore off.

But invite her to a party, and Kira Shepard was stumped.

She'd spent nearly an hour on the Normandy, staring at every single piece of clothing she owned, which, admittedly wasn't much; besides her favored armor set and a few pieces that rarely saw time on the battlefield, she had various Alliance uniforms, an old N7 t-shirt she used for training and workouts, a dress that didn't fit and she wasn't even sure when she picked it up, and her favorite red jacket that she always wore when she was off-duty. None of these, according to Traynor, were acceptable for a party, so Shepard had sent her off with her credit chit and told her to go shopping for the both of them while she tidied up around the apartment.

There wasn't much to do, really. Liara had left Glyph behind to help with preparations — everyone seemed to know how helpless she was when it came to things like parties — so Shepard spent most of the time alone making small adjustments to get the apartment just how she liked it. She changed out the bedsheets, bought a new set of toiletries to keep on the Citadel, and rearranged a few things in the kitchen so it was less cluttered.

Afterwards, she tinkered with her pistol; she'd left her rifle aboard the Normandy, and she was positive that she could find a way to increase the efficiency of the thermal clips. Before long, she headed back to the Normandy to grab some spare tools and parts from her cabin, and when she returned she found Traynor waiting for her.

"You've got a full closet now," she informed her, a bit sheepishly, and quickly added, "Some of it's mine, but most of it's for you. I figured you needed more clothes that don't scream I'll shoot your head off from a mile away."

Setting everything down on the counter, Shepard sighed, "Not a mile away." She rolled her eyes, but hadn't missed Traynor's little smirk. She did have a point, though; Shepard always seemed to be a living illustration of the Alliance — always in uniform, always clean-cut, always ready for business.

She needed a bit of down time, and that's why she'd let Joker talk her into having a party.

But even with a closet full of clothes, Shepard had no idea what was party-worthy. "What about Ash?" she groaned. "What's she going to be wearing?"

"Why does that matter?"

Plopping backwards on the bed, Shepard mumbled, "Because she's a soldier, like me. If she's going to get all… all dressed up, then I know it's serious. And if she doesn't, then I don't, either."

Traynor joined her on the bed with a tired, "You're hopeless."

"Yep."

"And we're supposed to trust you to save the galaxy?" she asked with a little grin.

Unable to hold back a grin of her own, Shepard amended, "Well, me and my fantastic comm specialist."

"Flatterer."

"I try."