A/N: Wow, can I just say that I love how much personality you guys all put into your reviews? It really is just fantastic how much I end up laughing. Thank you so much.
Oh my god cloudedwater I hated Miranda with a passion the first time often screeching "oh boo hoo your life is sooooo hard". I don't really know what happened but randomly on my second playthrough I did a complete one eighty and started clawing at her door while singing 'Come to me my melancholy baby'. Ugh. I have way too many feelings.
Shepard had spent the last ten or so minutes lying completely still, breathing shallow, eyes wide. Miranda was there, in her bed, sleeping peacefully as though it were the most ordinary occurrence in the known universe.
It most certainly wasn't.
She was stuck, literally. Shepard didn't want to move for fear of waking her companion up, as that was sure to be incredibly awkward. At the same time, she didn't want to be caught staring, certainly that would be weird. It didn't help that she could not for the life of her remember how she had gotten in this position or that her head was throbbing painfully in time with her pulse. Every second that passed her brain was constricted with unreasonable force. Of course, that made it all the more difficult to get her memories sorted.
There had been the club, and Morinth, and the apartment, and Samara was more than a little late. Then there was nothing, her mind was utterly blank. And now Miranda was there. Fully clothed thankfully, but there. Her eyelids were fluttering as she slept soundlessly, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, her features relaxed and tranquil.
Shepard studied her with a careful gaze, marveling at how different she looked, at how vulnerable she was. Though Shepard would never say the words aloud, she knew that this moment spoke volumes about Miranda's opinion of her. To be there by her side as she slept was a privilege Shepard figured few others had gained. Miranda was an incredibly guarded individual - with good reason considering her past – and would not let her defenses down so completely in front of just anyone. The thought alone was enough to puff up Shepard's ego a bit.
Here was Miranda Lawson, Cerberus' top operative and notorious hardass, totally at ease in Shepard's cabin. She was content. She was calm. She was comfortable. She was waking up.
She was waking up.
A flood of panic surged through Shepard as she looked on.
Miranda's eyes flickered open briefly, and then immediately clamped shut once more when she was met with the glaring light shining down from the ceiling. Groaning, she ran a hand across her face in an attempt to wake herself up more quickly as she cursed herself for drifting off with the lights still on. She felt stiff from spending the night in her uniform, the material clinging to her warm skin uncomfortably. A shower was definitely in order as soon as possible.
Unfortunately, there was obviously a slight issue she had to deal with first, as she could feel a pair of eyes boring into her from the left. Rolling onto her side slowly, she found herself met with Shepard's confused and somewhat alarmed stare. "Hi," she murmured quietly, her voice still thick with sleep.
"Hi," Shepard returned breathlessly, attempting to remain composed. She wore an unreadable expression as she waited for Miranda to explain, to offer any sort of reason for her presence. Miranda remained silent however, curious as to how the situation would play out if she took a back seat. When the quiet became too much for her, Shepard finally pressed further. "So you're here."
"I am," Miranda agreed, a lazy smirk playing along her lips.
Shepard chuckled, more in relief at seeing whatever had lead them here hadn't upset Miranda in the slightest, rather than finding any real humor in the comment. "Are you going to make me guess? Or-"
Miranda rolled her eyes, though her smile had widened. "I was put on babysitting duty after you apparently popped one too many pills," she mused quietly, pleased that the woman had regained her senses. Admittedly Shepard had proven to be somewhat amusing in her delirious state, but it was good to be engaging in a proper conversation once more.
For her part, Shepard was suddenly being hit with the image of Morinth standing before her, holding out a small bottle with a triumphant grin. Well that explained the state of her head and why she felt like an angry krogan was using her brain as a stress ball. Flushing in embarrassment, she moaned pitifully. "I feel like I've been hit with a truck."
Suddenly, she sobered and a look of panic flashed across her features. "Please don't tell me I have to apologize to Samara for anything."
Offering a sympathetic look, Miranda soothed her fears quickly. "From what I could tell, everything seemed to go smoothly, drug use aside. Samara seemed quite calm when you returned."
Shepard grinned, the comforting caress of relief calming her every nerve. She was glad she didn't let her friend down, even though their success was sure to be a bittersweet one for the tired warrior. As soon as she was able, Shepard would have to make a point of going to check on the asari. "Samara's always calm," she replied to her companion at length.
"Perhaps," Miranda admitted.
With a chuckle, Shepard stretched along the mattress slowly, taking the time to flex each muscle as she shook the sleep from her system. After a long yawn she rolled onto her back and brought her hands up to her stomach to pull at the now uncomfortable top of her uniform. Miranda watched the display silently, yawning herself as she found the action infectious. "You wore your boots in my bed?" Shepard asked unexpectedly when she had glanced down to take a look at her own attire. "Classy," she informed with a smirk.
"You're still in your boots," Miranda pointed out defensively. In all honesty, she had considered trying to make Shepard more comfortable by shedding some of her more impractical pieces of clothing that would be less than conductive to sleep. Her self consciousness had won out over her desire to be helpful however, and she had instead left the woman as she was, reasoning that the situation was inappropriate enough already without anyone's outfit coming off.
"Yeah," Shepard admitted. "But I wasn't in the right state of mind. I was drugged. I don't even remember coming back onboard."
"It's not like I meant to fall asleep here," Miranda shot back, annoyance clear in her tone. She knew she didn't really mean it, but Miranda found she couldn't help herself. The whole situation was rather confusing and so she reverted to her old tactics of snapping and being generally defensive. It felt a bit ridiculous, but then again this whole state of affairs was. Shepard was just lying there, speaking with her casually as though all of the events that had occurred between them the day before had never happened.
Is that what the woman wanted her to do? Pretend like everything was normal and never speak of it again?
Shepard scoffed as she rolled back over on her side to face the other woman, mischief alight in her gaze. "Convenient excuse." She really shouldn't have been doing that, heading down that road. Shepard couldn't help herself though. Miranda was watching her carefully, eyes focused and attentive despite remaining slightly glazed with the last few remnants of sleep. She looked so stunning lying on her side like that, lips slightly parted, hair mussed, cheeks flushed. Shepard never even stood a chance. She was saying the words before she had even really processed their implication. "How do I know you didn't have your way with me?"
Miranda raised an eyebrow, surprised at the boldness of the comment. Maybe Shepard did intend to act on whatever was going on between them. It was fine by her of course. If Shepard wanted to play those kinds of games, Miranda was always up for the challenge. She had had her fair share of experience over the years, and she always had the upper hand.
"Trust me," she replied suggestively, leaning in dangerously close while being sure to never break eye contact, "that, you would remember."
Shepard swallowed hard, choking back equal parts apprehension and desire, having no doubt she would.
It was back again, the feeling, the dilemma. Figuring out what Miranda was, what she could be, was proving to be a difficult task. There was something about the woman that was spellbinding, intoxicating. At first, Shepard had attributed her growing feelings to be merely misplaced admiration and immense gratitude. Miranda had brought her back, had restored her to life. Of course that would provide them with some sort of bond.
That quickly proved to be an inaccurate assumption however as she found herself growing more invested in the woman. At first it had been about her. Every conversation had been about Shepard's comfort. Easing her troubled mind, soothing her conscience, keeping her calm. It was all about Shepard.
And then somewhere along the lines Miranda had become her focus, and now they found themselves at a crossroads because whatever was going through Shepard's head, it appeared as though Miranda was suffering the effects as well. Of course Shepard had no way of knowing what exactly her second in command's emotions towards her entailed - apart from striking up an undoubtedly awkward conversation of course - which was a frightening thought in and of itself.
After all, it was Miranda who had brought up the idea of casual physical attraction not a day earlier. She was the one who had assumed that that was where Shepard's interests lie, so it would stand to reason that that idea coincided with her own desires, would it not? It was a troubling notion to consider, the idea that Miranda may simply be looking for a way to relieve some stress.
Shepard gazed into the eyes that were a mere couple of inches from her own, searching for the answer within them. She felt so foolish in that moment as she tried to find the response she didn't want to admit to herself she craved. What true interest could she possibly hold for someone like Miranda beyond a professional one? Okay, maybe she hadn't pulled away when Shepard had initiated their little moment down in her cabin, but how could she ever desire more than something physical?
Shepard was broken, unstable. She had proven time and again just how very fragile she was. Miranda knew more than anyone the truth of the situation. There was no possible way she had been deluded into believing Shepard was the same infallible hero everyone else in the universe had dubbed her. So what was this? What was Miranda looking for?
The bewilderment in Shepard's gaze was clear, and Miranda felt a stab of sympathy for the woman as she studied her reaction to the rather obvious invitation she had just extended. She didn't regret saying the words, only the clear turmoil they were putting her friend through. Shepard was blatantly struggling with sorting her desires from her ethics, and Miranda was not making the situation any easier for either of them.
The rational part of her brain was screaming at her to back off, that Shepard had already asserted her stance on the issue and had committed herself to the interest of another. She could only end up getting hurt. And yet she ignored her own mind, unable to quell the stab of hope that had flared up in the very core of her. Whether the other woman wanted to admit it or not, Shepard clearly felt something towards her, something Miranda was desperate to explore.
It felt so new, so different than anything she had previously experienced. The way Shepard always looked at her with such obvious regard, the respect her gaze held, it was invigorating. She was accepting, she challenged Miranda's beliefs frequently without ever resorting to being condescending or cruel. There was an understanding between them, mutual esteem.
Though she couldn't identify it, though she had never experienced it before, something was definitely stirring in Miranda. It was growing with each day that passed and she found herself lying there, in that moment, loathe to let it die. Whatever it was, she needed to see it flourish to completion.
It was her who took the leap that time. Miranda was the one who leaned forward slowly, brushing their lips together with calculated leisure to frustrate Shepard and spur her into action. Her method was successful of course, her methods were always successful. Shepard responded instantly, abandoning all hesitation and losing herself in Miranda without a second thought.
She had the woman flush against her in an instant, relishing in the way they molded so perfectly into one another, not an ounce of wasted space between them. There was none of the tentativeness they had experienced in the early stages of their last encounter. Each knew what to expect from the other, how to respond in the way that left the other trembling.
Slowly, Shepard leaned forward into Miranda, coaxing the other woman onto her back, laying atop her in very much the same way she had last time. The location may have been different, but Shepard fully intended to continue where they had left off. Their lips moved in perfect sync, leaving her baffled as to how she had found the strength to pull away last time. How had Miranda even been able to keep her head, let alone remember the cameras.
The cameras.
The fucking goddamn piece of shit cameras.
"Wait." Shepard had managed to pull back at her realization and glance down at the woman beneath her, but she was fighting hard to focus on her thoughts. Or, more accurately, anything that wasn't Miranda. "We uh," she trailed off as her eyes began to wander of their own accord. The abnormally swift rise and fall of Miranda's chest, the way her hair laid splayed out along the pillow, the hungry glint in her unfaltering gaze, it all made for an unreasonably distracting sight.
What had she wanted to say? Had she even been talking?
Miranda flashed her a knowing smirk, taking the opportunity to squirm a bit under her companion and make the process even more problematic. "We what?"
Shepard glared down at her halfheartedly, catching onto her game. Clearing her throat, she tried again, this time finding her endeavors far more successful. "Cameras," she said at last, dropping down to rest her forehead against Miranda's. "You have to take care of the cameras."
Miranda stilled at that, trying to push away the feeling of déjà vu that swept over her. She panicked a bit at the memory of the day before, at how quickly things had turned sour. There was no desire in her to leave the bed, to get up and allot Shepard enough time to ponder her life choices. For whatever reason, Miranda wanted this, and she didn't know if she could bear being set up only to be rejected in favor of another once again.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to refocus herself.
It was the heat of Shepard resting so securely between her thighs that calmed her. They were there, together, and she wasn't going to sit back passively this time. Miranda was going to take control.
"No," she said simply as she stared up at Shepard with a challenging glint in her eye.
It earned her a disbelieving chuckle. "No?"
Miranda leaned up to close the few centimeters of empty space between them, capturing Shepard's lips with possessive ferocity. She wasn't getting out of it this time. Shepard had started it, had gotten her into this whole messy entanglement, and Miranda wasn't backing down until she finished the job. She felt Shepard's fingers tangle through her hair as she poured all of her frustrations from the past few days into the kiss, sure that her companion felt every moment of the uncertainty and desire she had experienced. The fear of dismissal, the elation of a hidden longing being realized, all of it poured into one act.
When she was finally released, Shepard looked down on her, eyes wide, breathing labored, clearly more than a little affected. Miranda smiled deviously, running her hands up along Shepard's sides until they crossed over the curve of her shoulders and met behind the commander's neck to pull the woman down closer. "Fuck the cameras," she all but sighed out, claiming Shepard once more.
For a moment she succumbed, completely lost in the action, but eventually Shepard managed to pull back from Miranda's grasp, a smile playing along the line of her lips. "Miranda," she said in false warning, knowing that after all was said and done the woman beneath her would be disgusted with the fact she had allowed her employer to catch a glimpse of them in a situation so intimate.
Miranda bit her lip, losing some of her former confidence. She stared up at Shepard pleadingly. "I don't want to," she admitted barely above a whisper, looking almost disgusted with herself as soon as the words passed her lips.
Shepard's heart positively soared and she had to bite back an affectionate smile, knowing Miranda would be embarrassed if forced to witness it.
She had her answer.
All of the uncertainty she had felt didn't matter, it was a fleeting and inconsequential thought best left to the past. Miranda wanted her there, truly wanted her, and that really made every other issue meaningless. Nothing mattered because Miranda was there and even though she would die before admitting it, she was good. She was kind, and compassionate, and brilliant, and there.
Shepard felt a sort of certainty with the woman. This was more than sex, more than simple infatuation. She cared about Miranda. She wanted to hear about all of her ambitions and goals, listen to as much of her past as she was willing to offer, share in every experience moving forward. There was nothing to hide from any more, she knew what this was.
There were a million more things to sort out of course. There was the Alliance and Cerberus. There were her friends and her enemies. There were Collectors and Reapers. There was Liara and the Illusive Man. But in that moment, none of it mattered because for the first time since she had been revived, Shepard felt one hundred percent alive.
She wasn't going to run away this time. Instead, she leaned forward to bury her face into Miranda's neck, planting a soft kiss on the skin there, pouring out every bit of emotion she could. "I'm not going anywhere," she assured her quietly.
Her tone alone invoked a shiver from Miranda that ran right down her spine. She shuddered beneath Shepard as the woman pulled back to offer a meaningful look, understanding that in those few words, there had been a thousand promises.
"Okay," she managed to shakily breathe out at length. As Shepard slowly slid off her, releasing her from her hold, Miranda wondered if that would always be her fate from then on. To trust Shepard so completely, to take her at her word without a second thought. It seemed so unbelievable, so foolish after the betrayals she had suffered all her life, and yet, apparently that was to be the way of things because she was standing and moving towards Shepard's desk with purpose.
She took a seat in the well used chair, tapping into Shepard's terminal and fervently praying that she could access what she needed to from that particular platform and wouldn't have to be reduced to traveling all the way downstairs. At that point, if that was the case she would be dragging Shepard along with her.
She glanced up once to peer at the display case where Shepard had taken to setting up her completed model ships. Her collection had grown considerably, Miranda mused, before catching her commander's eye through the glass. Shepard sat silently, a disarming grin spread across her face as she waited patiently for Miranda to return to her side, and the sight alone forced Miranda to drop her gaze. There was so much open admiration in that expression, the sincerity of it made her almost uneasy and she felt her stomach churn.
Swallowing, she refocused her attention on the terminal before her.
That was when it caught her eye, the message sent in from the Illusive Man, marked as urgent and critical. She tried to ignore it, she really did. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, almost like a warning to steer clear. And yet, she really couldn't help herself. It was a bad habit of hers, snooping, nosing around in other people's business. She never tried to amend it however, as often it had proven an invaluable trait that had saved her life on numerous occasions. No one could get the one up on you if you were ten steps ahead of them at all times.
As soon as she had finished reading through the message, Miranda's heart sank in her chest. She knew what had to be done.
"Shepard," Miranda called out softly, her eyes scanning the words on the screen before her once more, making sure not a detail had been missed.
She hated herself for it, really she did. It was all Shepard's fault of course. A couple of months ago she would have merely exited out of the message and returned to Shepard's side. Hell, she probably would have deleted the damn thing if it served her interest.
It was different now though. She was different. Miranda had to tell Shepard because it was the right thing to do, that was the truth of it, plain and simple.
"You should take a look at this."
Shepard was up in an instant, making her way to stand behind Miranda and peer down at the terminal with interest. "What's up?" she questioned curiously as her hands idly moved to rest on the other woman's shoulders.
Miranda leaned back into the touch, cursing herself for being so goddamn noble. Once again, everything had come grinding to a halt and she had no one to blame but herself. Tilting her head back to look up at Shepard as she hovered overhead, Miranda offered a small grimace before speaking, "It's from the Illusive Man."
Shepard's face hardened and her eyes flicked from Miranda's face back to the terminal. There were a few moments of silence as Shepard absorbed the information, and then she scoffed loudly. "Looks like someone is trying to get back in my good graces after that stunt he pulled on the collector ship."
Ignoring the jab at her employer, Miranda straightened up in her chair. "The lead could very well be time sensitive. Delaying for too long might result in losing the element of surprise or the Shadow Broker wizening up to Cerberus being on his trail."
Shepard took a step back, crossing her arms as she nodded. "Not to mention that for all we know, the base of operations could be a mobile one. We'll have to move quickly to be able to put this to any real use."
Miranda took a heavy breath before she stood and faced the other woman. "Exactly," she replied, struggling with the simple word. It was really turning out to be an awful couple of days.
There was a pause for a few moments as the two stared one another down. "You don't have to come obviously. The decision is totally up to you," Shepard offered awkwardly at length, trying to work out what exactly Miranda was thinking. The last thing she wanted was to upset the woman, and she wanted to make sure her XO neither felt like she was being benched, nor felt as though she were being dragged along forcibly.
Miranda's heart leapt up to catch in her throat as it warred with her mind. She wanted to be there, more than anything, and yet it was the last thing in the universe she wanted to do.
It was all very confusing.
She was afraid of letting Shepard meet with Liara without her present, especially when she would be bearing such an invaluable gift. It was selfish, possessive, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't that she didn't trust Shepard, it was that they hadn't even discussed anything. She felt like they were in this weird limbo with one another, a state of perpetual uncertainty. Nothing was set in stone, and Miranda found herself certain that if she let Shepard go now, nothing ever would be.
At the same time, she really didn't want to spend the day trailing after her and Liara like an unwanted pet. Not to mention this was now the third time she had been left unsatisfied and frustrated beyond belief because of that damn asari, so she was unsure of how civil she would be able to manage being should they come face to face once more.
In the end, despite her perfectly valid reasons not to go, paranoia won out and Miranda knew that if she wasn't on that mission she'd be pacing around the Normandy until the moment they returned. "Of course, I will," she said with as calming a tone as she was able to muster. "It's really no problem at all."
They stood before one another for a few moments and shared a rather painful silence, neither knowing the appropriate course of action to take next. Finally, Shepard offered an almost shy smile.
"It seems like we're getting worse and worse at this whole 'talking through issues' thing."
Despite everything, Shepard still managed to be so very Shepard, and Miranda found herself genuinely laughing in response.
"I'll say."
A/N: I'm really excited for pouty Miranda. Also, I'm laughing so hard because this fic started with this wee little stupid plot idea and now it's been 14 chapters and that plot hasn't even been mentioned. I'm such a loser and I'm drowning in otp. I also stayed up til 3 last night writing another AU that is slowly taking over my brain, halp.
Anywho, at least Shepard seems to have gotten her lady feelings in order, so that's a plus.