Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“That is a sexy voice.”

An unfortunate first impression of Tann, Addison thinks, given that the first statement out of his mouth as the new Director of the Andromeda Initiative speaks to how smoothly things are going, even as the station crumbles from the damage caused by the Scourge.

The next words out of his irritatingly erotic mouth are that, in light of just how smoothly things are going, they should force people back into stasis.

That’s going to go well.

Days later, all hell breaks loose, their Security Chief, Sloane Kelly ends up exiled, and she meets her replacement, Tiran Kandros, noticing that the man’s neck is flushed blue while speaking to Tann about going back on his promises to the krogan. Anxiety, presumably, given that he came onboard the Initiative without any intention of leading a militia or taking care of security on-board the Nexus.

Tann calls for her, and she cringes, because she imagines him whispering her name in her ear in the middle of…

Nope. Not going there. Addison refuses to acknowledge the idea that she has a crush on Jarun fucking Tann. His voice is just hot - but it’s probably just the voice her translator has selected for him. Discreetly, while Tann goes on to her about the importance of setting up colonies when they don’t have a single viable world with which to do so, she turns off her translator, revealing that in the salarian tongue his words are musical; his voice raspy in the best way.

Motherfucker.

***

Weeks later, Addison has to admit to herself that she may have a tiny little crush on her idiot boss. Even more obnoxious about this crush is the fact that there is nothing appealing about the man, save for his obscenely sexy voice. She’d fuck his voice and kick the rest of him out of bed.

Every day, the four of them have a stand-up meeting where they go over their tasks for the day, so Tann can feel like he’s important and appropriately managerial. She notices that when it’s Tann’s turn to list his own tasks, he instead lectures them on the importance of ‘a unified front’. Today, during their lecture, she looks over at Kesh, who rolls her eyes, but she’s suspiciously focused on Tann’s face. Kandros’ neck is blue once again, as it always seems to be when they’re doing these daily meetings. Odd, because it surely can’t be a social anxiety thing anymore… right?

Tann hasn’t picked up on Kandros’ nerves, because Kandros could begin wailing in front of him and Tann would think it was business as usual. Never has she known a more obtuse man. Following their meeting, she approaches Kandros, deciding that if Tann isn’t willing to address his nerves, she will, because she has something approaching competence when it comes to her colleagues.

Kandros eyes her nervously and murmurs for her to meet him at Vortex once they’re off-duty.

“Surely whatever is bothering you is something we can address in my office?” she says, confused by the request.

“No…” Kandros says, his eyes darting over to Tann’s standing desk, where he is playing Tetris on his terminal, “I’m not talking about this sober and you aren’t either. Invite Kesh, because if I’m going to make an ass out of myself, I’m only doing it once.”

This grabs Addison’s attention, and between dealing with Spender and putting out fires, she ponders what Kandros could be confessing to her. Is he smuggling? Fucking one of the exiles? Fucking Sloane Kelly? Word has it she has a taste for turian cock, so it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility, though she’s not sure when Kandros would find the time to go off-station to get his dick wet.

Kandros has booked them the private room at Vortex, and has a bottle of blue dual-chiral liquor on the table. She flinches, because she drank it once and it tastes like drain cleaner and is the same colour as toilet cleaner, making it about as appetizing as fucking Tann is. Kandros’ mandibles flutter into a pained grin and he pours her what must be at least a double. Minutes later, Kesh walks in and Kandros does the same for her, pushing a glass her way.

She eyes the man across from her. His neck is flushed blue, as it seems to be much of the time, and when he speaks, it’s with a slight slur. The bottle is at least a quarter empty, suggesting that Kandros has been pre-gaming before her and Kesh turned up. What could possibly be bothering the man this much?

The first sip of liquor burns enough that she wonders if Kandros screwed up and actually is giving them toilet bowl cleaner. She grabs the bottle to confirm that it is, indeed, terrible alcohol and not bleach. To her disappointment, the label reads Bleu Double, and not the popular brand of human toilet cleaner.

“Kandros, I’m not drinking this piss. Tell us why you’ve insisted on a mid-week bender,” Kesh grumbles, pushing her glass to the side.

Kandros glances at the door, which is closed and locked. He taps on his omni-tool, turning on the turian equivalent of elevator music, which sounds to her like a saw cutting through a metal pipe, and drains the rest of his glass.

He’s definitely fucking Sloane Kelly. Why else would he be so jumpy? Now, there’s going to be an ethical dilemma here, because while she respects his right to a personal life, the Security Chief sleeping with the exiled former Security Chief represents a problem. She runs through the plan in her mind: maybe they can keep this from Tann if Kandros agrees to end things with Kelly. Or, would it be better to have Kandros as a spy? He might be good at that, and people do tend to be looser in the afterglow of a good fucking.

Kandros is presumably a good lay. She doesn’t know for certain, but friends back home had no complaints about the turians they spent a night with. Generous lovers, apparently.

“Listen, I’ve got a confession…”

She sighs, readying herself for the moral quandary of her colleague fucking his predecessor.

“You know Tann… right?”

“He is our boss,” Kesh says, her tone irritated. “Would you just get on with it?”

“Well, we’ve been working with him for a while now, and we all have had our challenges…”

This is a weird way for Kandros to introduce the fact that he’s fucking Sloane Kelly. Kandros stammers and takes another sip of his alcohol that’s cosplaying as toilet cleaner.

“Turians like chests in our lovers. Broad, preferably...” So, Kandros likes breasts. An interesting revelation, she thinks. “And I noticed that one of our… colleagues has a very nicely shaped torso. Broad, but with a slim waist, and lately I’ve been pondering running my hands up and down said waist and chest. It’s shameful; absolutely shameful, given what they’ve been up to, and the headaches they’ve caused us…”

She reaches over and places a hand on Kandros’ arm. “It’s all right. We can talk this through and you can end things with Sloane Kelly, or if you’re willing, it might be ideal to have you work as a spy temporarily. You cannot control who you are sexually attracted to, so do not be ashamed of your intimate relationship with her.”

Kandros looks at her as if she has two heads. “Why would I be sleeping with her? She’s a traitor. I’m talking about Tann.”

Kesh grabs her abandoned drink and downs it in a single gulp, pours herself a second drink and repeats the motion.

“Oh, why couldn’t you have been fucking Sloane instead?” she groans, because this is so much worse than dealing with a ‘sleeping with the enemy’ situation.

“Why his chest, though? There’s nothing special about it,” Kesh says dismissively. “Now, his skin is beautiful. Have you ever noticed the shimmering flecks of blue around his eyes? And the lighter shimmer around his mouth? It’s an unusual trait amongst salarians to my understanding, and some see it as a mark of beauty.”

Oh. Oh no.

“But his voice, though,” she blurts out, utterly sacrificing the shredded remains of her dignity. “It’s so sexy. I know people go on about turian voices, but Tann’s voice is beautiful. Something nice to listen to while he tells us all of the important things he’s doing.”

The three of them stare at one another; the universe’s stupidest Mexican standoff. Kandros sighs, breaking the silence. “Well, I’m glad it’s not just me.”

“There has to be a scientific explanation for this. Are there synthetic pheromones in salarian culture that generate sexual appeal? Salarians do not generally experience sexual attraction, so perhaps this is how they ‘get in the mood’, so to speak?” Kesh says, and she appreciates her dedication to finding a scientific explanation for this horrible curse.

“Surely those pheromones must be banned, because torture is against the Citadel’s Rules of Engagement,” Kandros grumbles.

Tann smells like a mixture of orange and rose petals. It’s a fresh, fragrant scent, but subtle enough that she can only smell it when she’s standing right next to him.

“No, he just really is this sexy,” she says, hating everything about her life right now, but hating Tann in particular. Stupid sexy Tann.

“Addison, why did you say those words out loud? If we collectively ignore this, it will go away,” Kandros says, lifting the bottle to pour himself another drink, only to find that Kesh finished it. He huffs at her, and Kesh growls in response.

“I’ve developed an understanding why you’ve taken to drink, given these unfortunate circumstances,” Kesh says, tapping on her omni-tool. A minute later, the bartender comes in with a bottle of dual-chiral wine - a brand that isn’t completely terrible if she recalls correctly. She resolves to let Kesh order the alcohol at these bar crawls, because there will be another one of these. Their circumstances are just too unfortunate for sobriety.

“Maybe… if we sleep with other people, this will go away,” she says, looking directly at Kandros. “Are you attracted to women? Or just men?”

“Or just Tann?” Kesh says, snickering to herself. Kandros glares at her and throws up a rude gesture that translates roughly to ‘go fuck yourself on a stick of dynamite’.

“This is a good idea. Does anyone have suggestions for intimate partners?” Kandros says, and she bites back the urge to joke that Kandros is definitely going to get himself a lay by asking if someone wants to be his ‘intimate partner’.

“I’m available,” she says, because spending the night with Kandros is better than the temptation to masturbate while thinking of Tann. That’s not happening. Ever.

“I’m not. I am involved with a young man from clan Nakmor - he is a botanist,” Kesh says.

“Your place or mine?” she asks Kandros, and a bottle of wine later, they’re stumbling out of the bar. She wraps her arm around his neck, kissing him sloppily, her tongue sliding into his mouth. Kandros murmurs out his surprise before mimicking the act, and she attempts to ignore the fact that he tastes like toilet cleaner and that Tann would probably taste more pleasant.

She types her passcode in, still making out with Kandros, and drags him into her quarters, pawing at his armour. “Take off your clothes; I want to see that chest of yours,” she says and Kandros stiffens, stands up straight and takes a step back, staring at her as if she were an apparition and not someone who is desperate to fuck this out of her system.

“Are you thinking about Tann too?”

“No,” she lies, trying to push down the fact that she’s been considering just how delicious Tann probably tastes. He may be useless, but he presumably has better taste in alcohol than Kandros.

“I’m just… thinking about his body, and I’m sure your… lumps feel nice,” she cringes, knowing where this is going, “but it’s unfair of you to be intimate while I’m thinking only of Tann. I hope you understand.”

“No, I agree,” she says, thinking once more about how Tann must taste. He seems the sort to be anal about oral hygiene, which is one point in his favour, in addition to the unbelievably hot voice. “So… would you be open to lying on my bed side-by-side and masturbating together? Maybe if we do that, we’ll wind up thinking about…”

“Someone who isn’t Tann?” Kandros says.

“Yeah. I think Kesh has a point on the pheromone front. Why else would we all have a crush on him?”

“Brain damage from cryo?” Kandros says hopefully, because brain damage is more appealing than the thought of organically wanting to fuck Tann.

“Do we consult a doctor? Dr. Carlyle is discreet and might be able to do some research on our behalf?”

Then again, he’s a hottie with a voice that’s almost as sexy as Tann’s is, so maybe she shouldn’t make herself his patient, because he’s definitely ‘fuck this out of her system’ material.

“I’m not telling anyone else about this. If I remain celibate long enough, things should even out and I’ll be attracted to less embarrassing prospects in a few weeks,” Kandros says confidently, apparently having decided to take the opposite approach as her.

“Or you wake up with a damp spot on your bed after your Tann-induced wet dream.”

Kandros points a finger in her direction again and again. “Don’t put that… idea into the galaxy’s mind! That’s not happening! I am a grown man who is above such… teenage urges, and I’m certainly not doing… that while dreaming about our commanding officer!”

The next morning Kandros arrives at work late and refuses to meet her eye, his neck flushing blue when Tann calls him into a private meeting in his office.

When she jiggles her eyebrow in Kandros’ direction, he flips her off again and then walks behind Tann like a man walking to his own execution.

Chapter Text

The turian way of handling unfortunate sexual attraction is to ignore it. If he pretends it doesn’t exist, eventually his sexual desires will shift to someone more appropriate than Director Tann. Him, Kesh and Addison meet for drinks weekly, and occasionally the topic shifts to their respective attraction to the man.

Mostly, they complain about him, because he has never met a man more singularly oblivious in his life. That is what they’re doing tonight over a shared bottle of wine in the private room at Vortex. They have a standing booking for the room at this point, because talking about this in public would be the equivalent of tossing gasoline on the house fire their dignity is burning in.

“So, he was talking to the Moshae, who was asking what we can offer to the angara, and he offered ‘wisdom and experience’,” Kesh says, scoffing. “How old is he? 28?”

“24,” Addison says. “Middle-aged for a salarian.”

“Wisdom. The man could get lost in a paper bag and need Addison’s help to get out,” Kesh says.

“Oh no, that’s Kandros’ job. I wouldn’t guide him out of a paper bag,” Addison says.

“We are directors of the initiative; the top-ranked and most qualified amongst our people, and we are all discussing our unfortunate sexual attraction to our boss. This is the lowest point of my life, and I was one of the disappointments in my prominent family back home,” he says, cringing, because it sounds even worse out loud.

“I’m telling you: this isn’t natural. Why would three professionals all have a crush on such a singularly stupid man?” Kesh says, continuing on her theory that Tann is using some pheremone cocktail to drive their sexual attraction to him.

“Or maybe he is appealing and we all happen to have good taste?” Addison says, cringing as she speaks.

“No, we are not considering that possibility. We are all adults with excellent taste in romantic partners, this… unfortunate blip aside,” he says firmly.

“I thought about Tann… during, last week,” Kesh says, speaking as if sharing that her beloved varren has just died.

“Kesh, I’m so sorry,” Addison says softly, placing a hand on Kesh’s upper arm. “Did you and your boyfriend talk about it?”

“I didn’t tell him! Why would I burden such a sweet, gentle man with such cursed information? He is free of this burden and it would be unfair to levy it on him.”

Kesh has always been a sensible woman.

“Have either of you spent the night with anyone?” Kesh asks him and Addison, looking at him in particular, which suggests Addison confided in Kesh about their failed one night stand.

“I have committed myself to celibacy until such time as my mind decides that Tann is no longer an appealing intimate partner,” he says.

“Boring,” Kesh scoffs. “Addison?”

“Dr. Carlyle. Really solid lay. Just a man who knew what he was doing, and very dextrous where it counts,” Addison says, and he stares at her, because there’s a catch.

“And?” he says, gesturing for her to continue.

“All I could think about was Tann!” Addison yelps into her wine glass. “That man was talking dirty to me in that voice, and all I could think about was how I wanted it to be Tann saying those things to me.”

“Spirits preserve us all,” he mutters, thinking that it’s possible he’s never felt sorrier for any single group of people than he feels for the three of them at this very moment.

“You didn’t… moan his name, did you?” Kesh says, asking the very question he dare not even consider.

“I have some dignity remaining,” Addison says stiffly.

“What do you think his voice sounds like in the midst of orgasm?” he says, before he can decide better of it and say literally anything else.

“Fuck you, Kandros,” Addison says. “Fuck you for putting that in my head.”

“I hate how hot that thought is,” Kesh shudders. “Ever think about letting him bend you over a desk?”

“I’d be the one bending him over a desk, thank you very much.”

“Yeah; I’d push him onto the desk and sit on his face,” Addison says, and there is no amount of alcohol in this galaxy that will burn that image from his mind.

“We could plan an orgy?” he suggests, because maybe fucking it out of his system is the right call… but Addison’s error with her methodology was not including Tann.

“I don’t think my grandpa survives the knowledge that his daughter slept with Director Tann, and I’d rather suffer with this than lose him to a shock-induced heart attack,” Kesh says, which is a very reasonable attitude in the face of the prospect of sleeping with Tann.

“I’m a fan of orgasms and think they’re great but I’d sooner never have another if it meant I didn’t have to fuck Tann,” Addison says, taking a brave stance on the topic of orgasm.

“Wow. Really going out on a limb here when you say you like orgasms,” Kesh says sarcastically.

“You don’t think he knows, does he?” Addison says, her eyes going wide as she considers this new threat to their dignity and wellbeing in this galaxy. “I swear, if he figures it out, I’ll run off to join the exiles. It’d be a less humiliating end for me.”

“Don’t do that; just stuff yourself back in cryo until he dies. He’s a salarian and only has a dozen or so years left,” Kesh, ever the pragmatist says, and he decides he’s inclined to do the same if word about all of this comes to light.

“Tann has yet to figure out that Avitus Rix daydreams about spacing him, so I think our embarrassing affliction will remain perfectly discreet,” he says, relieved that his boss is an oblivious fool for the first time in his life.

“You going to sleep with Carlyle again?” Kesh asks Addison. “Brute force your way out of this situation by virtue of excellent sex and consistent orgasms?”

“That’s actually not a terrible idea…” Addison says, brightening for the very first time this evening. “I’ll message him right now.”

He finds himself slightly envious that Addison is getting laid, even if she’s thinking of Tann during.

“Don’t call out Tann’s name,” Kesh says, quite uselessly, because there is not a single person in this cursed cluster who needs this advice.

“I hate you all,” Addison mutters.

“More than you hate Tann?” he says, and Addison scowls at him while tapping out her message to her fuck buddy.

“Let’s just say that if there was a choice between a day-long meeting with Tann and attaching spark plugs to my tits and shocking myself with a battery, I’d have to think about it.”

“What about electrocution versus sleeping with Tann?” he says, grinning; only moderately pleased with how he’s making light of a truly terrible situation.

“Fuck you, Kandros,” Addison says. Her omni-tool beeps and she looks at it and then stands up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a tongue to come on.”

“Make good choices and don’t think about Tann!” Kesh calls out as she’s leaving, and Addison flicks her middle finger up at Kesh.

Now that Addison is gone, Kesh turns her attention to him. “I’m going to be dealing with this once and for all. My boyfriend is a botanist…”

“I don’t believe there are plants that can wipe away sexual attraction, no matter how terrible the affliction is,” he points out.

“No, but there are synthetic pheromones derived from plants that can be used to create such attraction. Illegal in council space, of course. Ever noticed that Tann wears perfume?”

“Yeah, he smells like… stuff.”

A beautiful blend of citrus and flowers that’s caused him to consider what it might be like to lick the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Not that he is ever going to admit this to anyone, ever. They can torture him and he wouldn’t admit it aloud. That secret dies with him.

“Think about it: a man obtuse enough to accidentally buy synthetic pheromones disguised as perfume who wears it, not noticing that his subordinates want to ride him raw.”

Now that’s absurd. Surely nobody could be that obtuse! Only… Tann is oblivious. More than a little useless, but completely unaware of the fact that he’s actively standing in the way of getting things done as opposed to solving the myriad of problems the initiative is dealing with.

“You realize if your theory is right, we can never tell anyone about this, yes? And that someone has to break into his quarters and steal that ‘perfume’ for the good of the cluster.”

“I’ll formulate a means of obtaining a sample of his bodily excretions and send them to Vorn to test for the plant matter. He’ll be able to advise if our brains are being tricked.”

Spirits, the sacrifice Kesh is making for the good of the whole. Actually sleeping with the man in order to get a sample. “Thank you for your service,” he says solemnly.

Kesh gives him a funny look. “I’m not sleeping with him; don’t be disgusting. I’ll merely find an excuse to dab his neck with a tissue and then send a package to Vorn with my grandfather the next time he’s here. We’ll have our answer a day or two after that. Unless you’d rather do things the hard way?”

“No, I’m not doing things the hard way!”

He has a modicum of respect for himself that he’s clinging to like it’s a rope and he’s dangling over the edge of a cliff. Despite his earlier suggestion, sleeping with Tann cannot be a viable solution to this problem.

Perhaps it is best to try things Kesh’s way. “So, if we get the results you suspect, the Nexus’ Security Chief is going to have to plan to break into the Director’s quarters?”

“Precisely.”

“Fuck me,” he sighs, because of course it’s going to fall on him.

“I’m sure Tann could do that, though not admirably, or even competently. I’m not wearing synthetic pheromones and do not have the slightest interest in you,” Kesh says smugly.

“Fuck you,” he mutters.

Chapter Text

Their attraction to Tann is growing increasingly embarrassing, and Kesh respects Addison’s attempts to fuck it away, and understands Kandros’ attempt to ignore it until it disappears, but she’s not going to sit here and hope it goes away. She is a woman of taste, dammit, and this attraction is not natural.

Vorn, who is confused about why she’s been asking so many questions about synthetic pheromones derived from plants, has described what he would need in order to “theoretically” test a substance for it. Excretions of any sort, but sweat will be the easiest to procure. She’s not going to invent some sort of staff-wide urine test, and she’s most certainly not going to sleep with Tann. A woman must maintain some standards, even in the face of pheromones disrupting one’s normal sense of good taste.

Her chance comes after Tann’s weekly session at the gym, where he arrives back at the office, claiming he’s ‘drenched with sweat’. He isn’t; the man can hardly lift a stapler (why Kandros is so into his chest when the man is worm-shaped is beyond her, and speaks to the power of whatever Tann is inadvertently putting on his body), but she’ll humour him for the sake of science and preserving their good taste.

“Tann, you’ve got some sweat on your neck,” she says, producing a clean white rag from her pocket and dabbing his neck before he can pick up on what is about to happen and put a stop to it. Tann squirms away, glaring at her.

“That was a highly inappropriate and overly familiar gesture, Kesh!” Tann says, as if scolding a child and not a colleague. She bites back the urge to make a smart comment about using pheromones to generate false sexual attraction amongst your coworkers for the sake of not creating a scandal in the workplace.

She’s not sure what would be worse: the uprising, or a sexual harassment scandal involving Jarun Tann. The latter would just be humiliating for all of them, and she cares too much about the initiative to put everyone on the Nexus through the realization that there are people on this station who find Tann sexy.

“Apologies; krogan are a bit more comfortable with physical touch,” she says, lying through her teeth.

“Some workplace behavioural training may be called for, Kesh,” Tann says, and she bites back the urge to snap that he wouldn’t freak out in this manner if she weren’t a krogan, and he’s the one weaponizing pheromones and causing sexual chaos.

Deep breaths, she reminds herself. Soon, Vorn will reveal the truth, Kandros will steal the perfume, and they can all go back to loathing Tann and finding him about as sexually appealing as furniture.

She packages the rag and gives it to her grandfather, and then checks her email, rolling her eyes when she notices that Tann has signed her up for mandatory ‘sexual harassment in the workplace’ training this evening, put on by Tann himself.

Briefly she fantasizes about spacing herself. Then she messages Addison and Kandros. If she has to suffer through this, so are they, and she’s not doing this sober.

***

“Kind of rich, y’know; the man sexually harassing all of us inadvertently is putting on training teaching us not to sexually harass someone,” Addison says, picking over a plate of fried potato sticks at Vortex. The bartender, seeing the three of them enter, sighs and gestures to the empty private room, leaving her wondering if perhaps he’s overheard their conversations and pities the lot of them.

“Technically Addison and I did not behave in an unprofessional manner; why should we endure this trial?” Kandros asks her.

“Because I’m the one who is going to figure out what is going on, and I’m the one who had to touch the little worm’s neck. I sacrificed for us, so you can sit for three hours and get lectured about sexual harassment!” she hisses at Kandros.

Addison winces. “Three hours? Are we certain that spacing ourselves is not an option?”

“If we could consider that…” Kandros says.

Now this is a matter of pride. Stupid sexy Tann cannot defeat them all. “We’ve endured far worse than a sexual harassment seminar put on by Tann,” she says in an attempt to rally the other two. Only, she realizes as she says it precisely what she is saying and she’d probably rather go through another uprising than this course. That would be the easier situation to manage.

“Tann cannot defeat us with his evil sexual powers,” she says, as if rallying a spent army to go on one last mission that they all know will end in their deaths.

“I hate that this is a sentence that you had to say out loud,” Addison says, picking at her potato sticks.

“United front. We will go in as a unit and die as a unit,” Kandros says, sitting up tall in their shared booth.

“Hopefully death comes sooner, rather than later,” Addison mumbles.

***

Kesh,

It’s as you theorized: this is a pheromonal compound synthesized from a salarian flower that has been banned in council space. The primary property of this pheromone is to replicate sexual attraction. As you can understand, the use of such a chemical is entirely inappropriate and unethical.

Who is using it? It would be wise to alert the Security Chief and have them destroy the bottle to ensure the safety of everyone on the Nexus.

Did you like the plant? I potted it myself for you.

Snuggles,

Vorn

Vindicated. It’s a relief to know that she does not have terrible taste in men, and that her attraction to Tann is nothing more than synthetic pheromones. She rushes to Kandros’ office and knocks on the door, clutching a printout of the message. Kandros looks at her and immediately pages Addison. “Going to Vortex on business,” he says to Addison.

When they arrive at the bar half an hour later, the bartender stares at them. “Do the three of you get any work done?” he says as he dries a glass with a filthy cloth that she forces herself to ignore for the sake of avoiding the curse of sobriety while they discuss their sexual attraction to Tann.

“This is incredibly important work business, and I’d suggest you keep our presence here under wraps for the sake of security,” Kandros says sternly. Turians are good at that sort of thing, and the man pulls out a bottle of wine, three glasses and gestures to the private room that’s practically become a secondary living quarters for the three of them.

They sit down and she shows them Vorn’s message. “We must destroy this substance for the safety of the Nexus.”

“For the sake of our sanity more like it,” Addison mumbles. “Does this mean I’ll be able to fuck Carlyle and actually enjoy the sound of his voice?”

“Don’t know; is it hot?” Kandros asks, as if this is the more important subject of discussion when they could be talking about lifting this horrible curse that afflicts them all.

“So hot. Seriously, have you heard it? Like fucking sex!” Addison says.

“Thought you said Tann’s was sexier?” she says, smirking at Addison.

“We’re all chemically altered until we destroy that perfume Tann uses,” Addison says, and she feels smug, knowing that if they’d taken her seriously, this could have been addressed weeks ago, and they all could have been having enjoyable sex without thinking about Tann. “Why is it only us, by the way?”

“We work closest with him,” she says without hesitating. “I also looked into it, and his assistant lost her sense of smell in an accident as a child. She’s entirely unaffected.”

“Lucky woman,” Kandros mutters.

“Is it also possible there are people experiencing our affliction who are simply more discreet than us?” Addison suggests, as if anyone could suffer with this in silence. Or worse, enjoy their newfound sexual attraction to Tann.

“I’m going to need the two of you to distract Tann. I can get into his quarters and steal the perfume, and wipe the camera evidence. Then, we are never to speak of this again. Ever.”

“Because you don’t want to be exiled for stealing from the Director of the Initiative or because you don’t want people to know you wanted to fuck Tann?” Addison asks Kandros, who glares at her.

“The latter, obviously!”

Distracting Tann - the final trial before they’re safe and can move past this experience. Her and Addison walk into Tann’s office, finding him at his standing desk and playing Monopoly on his terminal. “Playing with younger relatives?” Addison asks Tann, who squeaks and minimizes the application, as if that act erases the fact that the two of them now know he has terrible taste in human board games.

“Just against the virtual competitors,” Tann says, as if that makes this any less embarrassing for all of them. She gazes at his smooth, sparkling face, imagining for a moment what his skin might taste like while damp with sweat. Then, shaking her head, she forces herself to think of literally anything else.

The image of Tann naked enters her mind, and she considers accepting her fate and spacing herself once more because that would hurt less than their current predicament.

“We are here with an inquiry regarding…” Addison looks over at her, pleading for help.

“I am a very busy man,” Tann says, tapping his foot, because clearly the man playing Monopoly against computer competitors couldn’t possibly have anything better to do with his time.

“Outpost staffing and overcrowding on the Nexus,” she says, pulling the topic straight out of her ass. “We believe that transferring some of the colonists to Voeld may solve our overcrowding issues, but given the climate, it is sure to be an unpopular policy. Do you have suggestions regarding messaging?”

“I will come up with a brilliant pitch for the colonists,” Tann says, standing tall and proud.

No he won’t. It’ll be Ryder who swoops in to save the day, as usual.

Her omni-tool vibrates and she peeks at it.

Kandros: Package acquired and destroyed.

“You know, I believe a daylong brainstorm session is warranted. Clear your schedules tomorrow and call Kandros to advise him to do the same,” Tann says and Addison looks at her like a hostage pleading for mercy might.

Suppose tomorrow will be a good test of whether that perfume was the source of the synthetic pheromones, she thinks ruefully.

Chapter Text

Since arriving in Andromeda, Tann has a morning routine: he showers, brushes his teeth and spritzes himself with a bottle of perfume he purchased from a merchant who was later exiled to Kadara. Why, he’s unsure, but it’s a shame, because her perfume is magnificent.

Holding the Andromeda Initiative together is just a little bit easier when he smells like human citrus and roses. It provides an added spring to his step and was worth every credit he spent on it (it wasn’t cheap, but perfume is a luxury good, and a man of his stature must look and act the part!).

As the fearless leader of the initiative, his fellow directors look to him as inspiration, and so every day he stands tall, guiding them towards their own respective successes. It’s a difficult burden; one he never expected to have, but it’s an honour to lead their people to success in this galaxy.

Sometimes, success has its downfalls. It can make you a target. One day, he returns to his quarters to find a notification on his door indicating that someone entered his premises. Worried about an attack, he calls Kandros, who is unconcerned about the matter. “I’ll escort you in,” Kandros says, standing tall; every bit the dutiful Security Chief he always is.

He enters, not finding destruction; in fact, it’s as if nothing has been touched. His vid screen is on the wall, his clothing perfectly pressed in his closet, and even his stores of canned lutefisk (an Earth delicacy he’s always been fond of) remain untouched. Such food would command a high price on the black market!

“Sir, I’ve confirmed you are alone - shall I leave you to take stock of your belongings?” Kandros says.

“I’d rather you wait while I confirm that my property is intact. It’s possible you’ll need to call Kesh to have her call a maintenance team to repair my door,” he says. That must be it. Who would want to steal from him? Such a cowardly crime.

It’s not until he enters his washroom that he finds the scene of the crime. His perfume - the crisp citrus and gentle rose, is missing. “Kandros; I am the victim of a terrible crime!” he says, forcing down his panic.

“What has happened, sir?” Kandros says, his mandibles fluttering. A sympathetic smile, no more. He knows enough turians to be able to read them perfectly.

“My perfume is missing.”

“Oh. Oh no,” Kandros says, deadpan, which is another thing he appreciates about Kandros: his sense of professionalism. Truly a man dedicated to his craft. “What does the bottle look like?”

“It is in the shape of an Earth flower. There are what appears to be two thick dark pink petals that are oval, with a lighter pink hole in the centre. At the top of this structure was a round circular bump - likely the pistil of the flower. A beautiful bottle; a work of art I’d daresay.”

Kandros coughs, and it almost sounds as if he is covering up a laugh. No, he must just have an odd cough; he is far too professional to laugh at his misfortune.

“Why would someone wish to steal my perfume?”

“Sir, I do not have the slightest idea,” Kandros says, his gaze darting away from him - likely in search of the menace who has stolen his property. “Would you like me to make a formal report?”

“Absolutely. You can’t just get such beautiful perfume anywhere, you know. I want you to take this case personally. Only the best to tackle this heinous crime,” he says.

“It would be my honour to search for your lost property, Director Tann,” Kandros says, bowing his head at him in deference.

“I’m glad your hide and plate condition is clearing up,” he says, as he walks Kandros to the door.

“My… what?”

“Your neck was always blue. I attributed it to a rash. Or was it something else?”

“Oh! Yes, I spoke with a doctor who gave me a cream and it cleared it right up,” Kandros says, sounding nervous. He probably shouldn’t have asked such an invasive question, but the health and safety of his staff is important.

“If you or your team happen to arrest anyone selling perfume, will you let me know? That bottle was incredibly expensive and a valued possession, and while I do not look forward to replacing it, I will do what I must. It is so important to feel dressed up for the day, is it not?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Kandros says. “I’ll get right on the… uh… case.”

“Such a bother,” he mutters to himself after Kandros has left. A thief could have stolen the tech in his quarters, or his food, but they settled on his perfume? Just his perfume?

Tann concludes that perhaps even morally-bankrupt thieves wish to smell beautiful.