Chapter Text
"So... what was her name?"
Garrus looked over at Shepard, who was examining a console screen entirely too intently. He glanced at the display, an impressive range of tropical fish available to purchase.
"Whose name?" Garrus asked, feigning innocence as he looked around. They were in the Zakera Wards on the Citadel and its red pulsing lights always gave him a slight headache. It was only a few days ago now that they'd had that conversation in the main battery... about relieving stress, sparring, and, decidedly, not sparring.
"The other Turian recruit," Shepard replied, eyes still locked on the vendor's console. He could see, even as she was turned away from him her cheeks were beginning to darken with blood. Blushing, he corrected himself. Humans blushed for lots of different reasons. He fleetingly wondered which one it was now. She added two of the brightly colored animals to her order, and Garrus sighed.
"Shepard, I'm all for having hobbies outside of saving the galaxy, but there's a very attractive sniper scope over there that might be more worth the credits than..." he squinted back at the display, reading the description of one of the aquatic animals. "...Thessian sunfish."
Shepard completed her transaction and turned to him. "Garrus, these are Cerberus credits. The least I could do is run up their tab at every shop in Citadel space, especially if they're non-human owned. Gotta get my kicks somehow before we all die, right?" She winked, obviously pleased with herself. Over her shoulder, Garrus saw the Asari shopkeeper glance at them worriedly.
Never let it be said Commander Micaela Shepard didn’t know how to stop a room.
"Also, I had a fishbowl in my apartment here on the Citadel before I...." Her eyes went a little unfocused. "...You know. A-Anyway, Cerberus thought they’d be so generous to put a giant 60-gallon tank in the captain's quarters. Might as well use it, yeah?"
Garrus couldn't help it; he laughed. How could she make him forget, for just a moment, that they were about to die in only a few weeks? She chuckled too, and the two of them stood there, giggling like school children. When I’m alone with her, Garrus thought, really alone--off the ship, away from Alliance or Cerberus or even the turian hierarchy--
“You’re not going to tell me her name, are you?” Her face was red, and her eyes were slightly wet, but she was smiling wide.
Garrus recovered as quickly as he could. “I wonder where Mordin ran off to--”
“Garrus.”
He felt a weight on his shoulder as his commander smacked his armor playfully. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the Ward disappeared. And there was just her, and him, and those stupid fish in her arms.
But then Mordin found them and the moment was gone. As Mordin and Shepard discussed the sunfish, its behavioral patterns, the pros and cons of purchasing a tank VI to regulate its temperature, Garrus hung back, considering what had just happened.
When they had jokingly stumbled their way into Shepard suggesting sex, Garrus had been rendered incoherent. He’d agreed too readily to be anything less than eager and was embarrassed he was nearly reduced to a fledgling recruit in front of his commander. It had barely even crossed his mind that maybe it would make the coming weeks awkward or tense.
Now, they danced around each other, saying things that meant something else, and sending each other furtive glances and subtle touches that each pretended to ignore. It was distracting, to say the least. For all Garrus prided himself on his focus and drive, he felt drawn towards Shepard. She felt like the sun on Palaven, intense, unrelenting, and… warm. Moments when he missed the desert sun of his homeworld were assuaged when she was near him.
He hadn’t always felt like this. There was a time when Micaela Shepard was just another Alliance officer. Then, a Spectre. And then, surprisingly, his commander. It wasn’t until she died, came back two years later, and saved his goddamn life from a rocket to the face, did things start to change. Garrus touched the bandages taping the side of his face together.
"Hey." Garrus looked up and found Shepard beside him once again. Mordin was busy reading something on his omni tool as the three of them stood by the transit station.
“You good, Vakarian?” She looked up at him, her dark eyebrows raised in concern. With the red lights of the Zakera Ward behind her, she looked incandescent. He smiled.
“Yeah, Shepard, I’m good.”
And, maybe he would be.