Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belong to BioWare.
Author's Note: This story does not necessarily follow any particular timeline and may not be considered chronologically accurate.
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Cass couldn't sleep.
And for once it wasn't due to nightmares.
Had that been just a dream?
No, it couldn't be—she wouldn't have dreamed up mild chafing on the inside of her thighs.
That meant Vadix…
Holy fuck.
As morning finally arrived, Cass had well and truly worried herself into a tailspin. This wasn't a situation with which she was familiar and there were simply too many unknowns. Something she'd longed for had actually happened and there weren't any repercussions—yet. She wanted to feel happy, ecstatic even, but something she couldn't quite identify kept her joy in check.
This caution was confirmed when she almost walked into the kitchen.
"Things aren't like that between us, Mother."
"Vadix, honey, you're making this more complicated than need be." Trebaana sounded exasperated.
A silent moment passed, and then she spoke again, "All I'm saying is you should think about it. Think about your future, what matters most."
Footsteps faded into the background, but only one. Which meant one of them was still in the kitchen.
Who was it?
And what did that exchange mean?
Was his mother telling Vadix to pursue his human companion?
Or was she saying the opposite?
Cass felt her stomach plummet, like she was standing on an edge, looking down an impossibly long drop. Maybe he was having second thoughts. He'd essentially said as much last night.
After what felt like the best orgasm of her life, Vadix had apologized and then, when she'd all but told him she wanted to go again, the turian had run away.
That was never a good sign.
Her omni-tool pinged and she darted back into the guest room, hoping her partner hadn't heard the sound.
You stood me up last night
-D
Shit.
Duron.
Since Anara hadn't responded to her desperate plea last night, that meant the asari was probably busy with some guy—or with the walk of shame, depending on the surrounding circumstances. Either way, her friend was unavailable for Cass to vent her frustrations.
Well, if Vadix didn't want to pursue her, she knew someone who did.
Quickly she typed a response and hurried to stuff her bag after pulling on something to wear. It wasn't something she'd worn in a while, given the mandatory uniform on the Normandy, but it was something she'd naively wished Vadix would see her wearing: a strappy dress tied at the waist with a V-neck that nearly reached her navel.
Fine. Let someone else appreciate it—and her.
Slinging the small duffel over her shoulder, Cass rushed out the door, down the hallway, and into the main room.
She nearly plowed into Vadix. And not in the good way.
Skidding to a halt, she looked up to see him looking down at her. Except not like he usually looked down at her. This time, the human would have sworn his eyes followed the lines of her dress. She could almost feel his tongue on her skin.
Dammit.
"See you tonight," she mumbled, dashing around the unmoving turian and out the front door.
At last, she was free again. She was free to do as she pleased, without thought for whom she might be disappointing, whose expectations she wasn't fulfilling, or how she could help someone else.
No. Today she would be selfish. Fuck the consequences.
Cass strolled down the halls of the Presidium, wiling away the time before she'd told Duron to meet her, and fighting any twinge of regret over her sudden departure, any hint of longing for her best friend.
It wasn't her fault he'd crossed that invisible line. Hell, if she'd known he wanted to, Cass would have brought sex into the picture long ago. But no, she'd respected what he'd said about his relationship with Juvelea, just like any decent person would.
So why did he get to fuck her up, just like that?
And why had she let him do it?
If she hadn't developed feelings for him, his behavior this morning would have been meaningless.
This was why she always told her clients to have open, honest communication prior to initiating physical intimacy. Without clear boundaries—whatever they were—someone always got screwed over. Or worse, screwed up.
Her mood turned sour as she walked, slowing in speed as her emotions crashed. Looking up, she realized the market was closer than she'd thought. Despite her early arrival, she hurried into her favorite brunch shop, eager to have something, anything, to distract her somber frame of mind.
Settling into the tiny booth in the back corner, she looked around the familiar establishment. Soft flickering lights reflected the relative poverty in this neighborhood while also inviting a person to stay awhile. This was a place she almost felt at home, like the door was shielded by a force field that kept out problems and concerns. Cass sighed, slouching into her chair, her mind now blissfully empty of turians.
"So, this is that kind of date," a deep voice interrupted her reverie.
Blinking open her eyes, the redhead noticed the gray alien seated a couple tables away. He was grinning at her like she hadn't completely blown past him in her blind haste.
Cass bit her bottom lip, still feeling wary but forcing herself to be flirty: if she could fake it long enough, she'd start to feel flirty too. It always worked. "Do you often have 'that kind of date'? Sounds like you're just not trying hard enough."
Duron stood, moving between the scattered tables to join her. The aisles weren't quite big enough to accommodate a turian comfortably. She giggled, watching him awkwardly maneuver the field, until he sat down, catching the table before he entirely overturned it, and smiled sideways at her. "How'm I doing so far?"
She nearly snorted, trying to hold back the laughter in her throat. "I must say, I'm impressed," Cass managed, batting her eyelashes, "by how awfully cute that was. Are you always this nervous?" Maybe he wasn't nervous, but she, uncharacteristically, definitely was.
Rolling his shoulders, the man sat up straighter. He even cracked his neck. "'Cute', eh? I can't remember the last time a woman used that term to describe me. Usually at this time of day they favor something between 'so fucking hot' and 'brain-blowing amazing'. Think I can have another chance?"
Coyly, Cass shrugged. "Depends. I usually reserve the time between 6 and 11 am for no men, but I suppose I could make an exception. Just this once."
He raised one brow plate opposite to a smirking mandible. "In that case, if the lady would please block out her schedule from now until tomorrow at 6 am."
"If only," she groaned. "I've gotta be back to work tonight."
Reaching across the table, Duron trailed a talon up the inside of her forearm, watching his own motions. "I could meet you there, you know. Wouldn't be the first time."
Again, Cass groaned. "I'm not at Flux anymore, actually."
"Oh? What are you doing now?" He continued to stroke the bend of her elbow.
She contemplated how to answer. Then decided to cheat a little. "It's complicated," she offered with a feeble grin.
The man looked up, then held her gaze for a long moment. "As complicated as the reason you smell like sex—and the saliva of a turian?"
Cass felt her eyes widen. Fuck.
She'd forgotten about his race's superior olfactory sense.
"I can explain," she stammered, knowing full well that this was the first time she'd outright lied to this man: it wasn't something she could explain.
His face softened into a smile as he continued to rub her arm with the pad of his thumb. "Love, something tells me it's not just your job that's complicated."
All she could manage was a weak nod in response.
"Does it have anything to do with the man whose name you called, last time?" His voice was gentle, and she could feel a soothing rumble where his body was connected to hers.
But Cass wanted him to yell. He should be angry with her. She deserved his disapproval, for using him now just like she had before.
So why was he being so kind?
"I'll take your silence as an assent," Duron murmured, his head bobbing in comprehension. "Tell me about it. What's on your mind?"
Staring into his lurid green eyes, Cass wondered if the turian sitting in front of her was an anomaly. Were there other men like him, men who were willing to communicate with the intent to understand, not to dominate or control?
Yes, the smallest corner of her mind answered from the back room she'd forced it into this morning, before she'd spiraled down the path of self-sabotage. At least one.
Her eyes welled with tears, tongue thick with the words she wanted to speak to anyone who would listen.
Cass held it together long enough for them to order something, and Duron filled the time until their food arrived with an entertaining anecdote about something the redhead immediately forgot.
And then, finally, she talked.
All the things that concerned her, the things that made her want to scream, the things she thought about in the moments before sleep overtook her—it all came tumbling out in a river of discombobulated words. Cass expressed her feeling of ignorance and incompetence when it came to turian customs, her desire to learn more and understand so she could be the person she thought her partner deserved, and her terror that she could never know enough to fit the mold of his family's expectations. She mourned the loss of her own family and how broken it made her feel, oblivious to what healthy relationships looked like. The woman even told of the sweet moments she'd shared with Vadix, how insignificant they were in the grand scheme of things yet how important they'd become to her, from the simple conversations they shared each day to the time he'd literally saved her life.
Duron listened, attentive and patient, never interrupting the torrent of sentences and never questioning her decisions or feelings.
Eventually, after her meal was long past cooled, Cass had run out of things to say and emotions to accompany the words. She felt raw, vulnerable, and exposed. But she also felt clean, like her mind had been cleared of debris and she could finally think lucidly again.
The turian across from her was quiet for a long moment, absorbing the information she'd given him. But before she could worry too much, Duron addressed her again, "You really like this guy, yes?"
Looking down, Cass pushed food around her plate, her stomach in too many knots to consider eating. "Yes," she whispered, still afraid to be so direct about her own feelings.
"And you believe his parents would disapprove of a serious relationship between the two of you?"
Again, the redhead refused to meet his eyes. "Yes," she said again, feeling even smaller than before.
"What makes you think that?"
The question startled her, dragging her gaze up to meet his steady expression. Her head tilted, brow scrunching, unsure how to reply. "I suppose," Cass began slowly, "mostly because of the conversation I overheard this morning. And he's told me more than once that he doesn't want to disappoint his parents, but he always says it like he's already done it—I think because of the face tattoo thing. After all, I'm not exactly the patron saint of chastity or purity; I'm not even a follower. I'm sure any parent would be disappointed if their child started seriously dating a 'loose' woman like me." She knew she shouldn't have to change her very personality to be with someone—that wasn't what good relationships were about—but sometimes she wished she could change her past.
Duron's head cocked in the opposite direction. "Wait. 'Face tattoo thing'? What do you mean?"
Shrugging, Cass explained without emotion, "He hasn't adopted the colony markings of either of his parents. He worries they're disappointed in him because of it."
"Of course they are." The sharpness of his voice surprised the human, even as she watched his face contort into an expression of disgust, almost rage. "How could you even be interested in a man like that?"
Her mouth dropped open, shocked beyond words.
"You can't trust barefaced turians. They're a disgrace to our society." Duron was so vehement he was practically spitting. Or perhaps it only seemed that way to Cass, given that he was speaking about the man she loved.
Oh fuck.
Did she love him?
It was the first time in years that she'd even used the word in her head as a verb to describe something she was capable of doing. And here she was, realizing there was no other way to describe how she felt about Vadix.
"Stop." It was no more than a murmur, but Duron stopped mid-rant. Then, when she saw he was about to speak again, she nearly snarled, "You don't know him."
The man appraised her coldly before leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Really? Enlighten me," he challenged.
Glaring at him, Cass responded, "Gladly. First off, he's adopted. He doesn't know who his biological parents are, and he doesn't want to dishonor them by taking on the markings of either of his adoptive parents—something I find very admirable, given all the shit he's gotten his entire life for it.
"Second, despite how awful people have treated him, he is kind and considerate and charming and comforting. Vadix doesn't behave toward others the way they do, no matter how rude they are. When people are jerks, he takes the high road and simply leaves—even though I wish he would kick their asses.
"Third, on more than one occasion he has defended and protected me, both physically and verbally. When I've felt battered and broken, he's been there to hold me until I feel better. He doesn't expect anything in return; he just does it because I need him to."
The human was about to continue when she noticed Duron smirking at her. She wanted to deck him in the face, but figured the action would hurt her more than him. "What's so funny?" she hissed.
"If you can defend your not-quite-boyfriend like that to me, surely you can defend yourself to his mother."
Despite the snide tone, the turian made a valid point, Cass realized. After all, if she loved him, shouldn't she fight for him?
Sagging in her seat once more, the woman stared at Duron, contemplating what he had said—and what she had said. Then she spoke, a determination forming in her mind, "Maybe you're right."
"I usually am," he shrugged, though his earlier facetious attitude was dimmed. Duron snorted softly. "Unfortunately, this is one of those times I wish I wasn't."
Cass reached across the table, placing her palm against his forearm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," she affirmed, her gut twisting once more.
He moved his talons to cover her fingers, his eyes watching their hands interact. "It's alright," Duron finally mumbled. "I should go."
Standing on the other side of the table, the turian examined his brunch companion with new eyes, wondering if there was ever a chance this story could have ended in his favor. "Thanks," he said, feeling lame, and turned to go.
Then he stopped, turned around, and faced the redhead once more. "If things don't work out the way you want, let me know. I'll fuck him up for you."
"Thanks for the offer," Cass replied, "but I think I'm plenty good at fucking on my own." Her eyes widened suddenly, horrorstruck by what she'd said, opening her mouth to fix the colossal mistake.
Duron beat her to it. "Based on how well you can dance—around poles and on tables, no less—I have no doubt you possess excellent fucking skills," he winked. "But the offer stands." He paused, then continued, "Besides, if the barefaced idiot doesn't want to keep you around, well, then he's an even bigger dick than I think he is. And that's saying something."
He walked away before the human could retaliate for the insult. Yet, somehow, she felt comforted by it all the same.