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Chapter Text

He should have known that a Mako would one day try to kill him, Garrus thought grimly as he dodged for his life away from the flipping vehicle. A wave of heat rushed over him as it exploded just behind him. Another close call for the books. He’d only spent a few hours so far on the human homeworld, but he couldn’t say that he was enjoying his visit–too many reapers, not enough fresh towels, two stars. Grousing, he tried to get back up on his feet, but his leg was stubbornly refusing to support any weight. 

Before he could stand, Shepard came leaping through the dark and smoke like a great hero of legend. She rushed towards him and Vega, helping Garrus up to his feet and into cover behind another broken Mako. As he dropped down, Garrus only then noticed the large hunk of shrapnel sticking out of his thigh. 

“Oh, that’s not good,” Garrus said calmly, regarding the leg as if it didn’t belong to him. 

“He’s going into shock,” Vega snitched to Shepard, opening his omnitool and scanning Garrus.

“Turians don’t go into shock,” he insisted. He was pretty sure about that. And even if they did, it was going to take a lot more than a simple battlefield injury to send Garrus Vakarian into shock. Not after all the crap he’d seen over the past four years, most of it at Shepard’s six. 

Suddenly, the Normandy was descending into the battlefield. Shepard put Garrus’ arm back over her shoulders and practically carried him towards the opening cargo bay door. Alright, so this didn’t end up being the final sprint into the abyss that they’d thought it was going to be. But they’d live to fight another day, regroup and try again–

“Here, take him,” Shepard said, easing his arm off her shoulders and onto Vega’s. Garrus turned to look back at her; she was already backing down the ramp. What was she doing? Where was she going?

“Shepard–” 

“You gotta get out of here,” she started. 

Outrage sparked inside him. “And you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Don’t argue with me, Garrus.”

“We’re in this to the end,” he insisted. He tried to step away from Vega, prove that he could follow her into Hell just like they’d always planned. But his leg crumbled underneath him. 

She hauled him back up to his feet, but she didn’t let go of him immediately. Her thumb traced along his broken colony markings as she cupped his cheek. He leaned into the unfamiliar, but oddly welcome touch. Something warm and gentle filled her eyes, something he’d never seen before but suddenly needed to never go away. “Garrus, I–”

She was cut off when Harbinger fired again, barely missing the Normandy . Shepard’s jaw tightened and for a split second, regret flashed across her face. Then it was replaced by her signature steel-willed determination, and she stepped back.

“At least one of us needs to make it out of here alive,” she said. The finality of that statement hit him square between the eyes.

“That better include you too.”

She nodded once. “I still have to depose the king of the bottle shooters.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

A flicker of a smile appeared in her eyes. “Go!” she ordered, stepping off the ship. She gave him one last look and then ran back into the fray. Garrus kept track of her on the field as the ship lifted away, eyes glued to her shrinking form till the cargo door closed in front of him. Spirits, guide her, protect her, return her. 

Dimly, he could hear Vega yelling for him, but he sounded very far away. Garrus collapsed to his knees and hands; his breath coming hard and fast, but never quite enough. The edges of his vision grew foggy and dark. Okay, now. Now he was going into shock.

Chapter Text

As Garrus crossed the threshold into the turian councilor’s office, he had the sudden impression that he’d walked straight into an ambush. He could attribute it simply to soldier instincts misfiring. But Garrus hadn’t survived years of battle to mistrust his instincts now. He surveyed the cooly chrome office and the three older turians lying in wait for him, trying to search out the reason for alarm. Was it Councillor Sparatus’ nervous twitch of a mandible? Was it simply the presence of Primarch Victus who was so rarely off Palaven these days? No, no, it was definitely the way his father was smiling at him. 

Garrus stopped just inside the doors. “What’s going on?” he asked, eyeing his superiors suspiciously.

“Have a seat, son,” his father replied.

Crap. Being called ‘son’ rarely led to good things. Garrus walked cautiously to the seat he was being waved to on the near side of the desk and sat down. “What’s going on?” he repeated.

The Primarch, the Councillor, and the detective all exchanged glances. Sounded like the set up to one of those jokes Joker was so fond of that no one besides the humans ever understood. 

“I assume you got my message about the new order of Ascension,” Victus started. 

Oh, yes. Garrus had gotten that mail. He had read it three times to make sure he understood it. Then he had gone straight to Shepard’s apartment and made her read it to double check. She’d laughed and offered him a drink in consolation. He’d taken her up on that drink. And about twelve more. He didn’t remember much about the rest of the evening after that, thank the Spirits.

“Yes,” Garrus said simply, every alarm in his head going full blast.

Victus waited as if he expected Garrus to expound. But Garrus wasn’t touching that topic with a ten foot pole. Victus continued anyway, unbothered. “Before we begin anything, I just want to say that I’m pleased that this is how Ascension has been ordered. You proved yourself fully capable of leadership during the Reaper War, and turians everywhere owe much of their continued existence to you.”

“And to Shepard,” Garrus quickly pointed out.

“Of course. The galaxy at large wouldn’t be here without Admiral Shepard,” Sparatus stepped in, his hands neatly folded behind his back. “But you were in charge of the preparations on Palaven before the invasion, and that has proved invaluable as we rebuild.”

“Don’t discredit your own hard work, Garrus,” Dad added.

Garrus looked between them, suspicions still on high alert. “Why do I feel like you’re buttering me up for bad news?”

All three of them frowned. “Buttering up?” Victus asked.

Right, he was talking to turians. No metaphors allowed. “Human expression–why was I actually summoned here?” Garrus adjusted how he was sitting in the chair, resisting the urge to bolt. “It surely wasn’t just to extol my work during the war.”

Victus chuckled. “Very well. We hope to help you understand the… expectations that your new position in the Hierarchy demands.”

That was still incredibly vague. “Which are?”

“I’d like to begin a more formal mentorship with you. Hopefully I’ll be the last Primarch to ascend completely blindsided for quite some time. But namely…” Victus paused, then began again. “Because your place in the Hierarchy has changed drastically combined with the fact that you are not yet mated, you are…” He trailed off, trying to grasp at some ephemeral word. There were a number of options that Garrus could guess, each more terrible than the last.

“Desirable?” Sparatus offered to Garrus’ horror. 

Victus nodded, doubling Garrus’ horror. 

“As Primarch, your mate—no matter who they are—will hold considerable sway of their own. Families are grappling for power in this new landscape any way they can, and we’d like to protect you from being manipulated.”

Okay, that didn’t sound too bad. But this didn’t warrant being called ‘son’. “So…?”

And then the other shoe dropped.

“So we’ve prepared a list of candidates for your potential mate,” his father started.

Garrus jumped to his feet. “You must be joking.”

“Sit back down, Garrus.”

Garrus leaned forward, stabbing a finger into the desktop. “ This is what you wanted to talk to me about? My-my mate?!” He glared at his father. “You brought Victus and Sparatus in to talk about my mate ??”

“I’ve tried discussing this with you before, but you would not listen to me,” he replied, still maddeningly calm. “I thought their gravitas might get you to understand–”

“What do you mean discuss this before? We’ve never discussed this before!”

“We talked about it last year after the armistice anniversary banquet.”

Garrus frowned and thought back to that conversation. Another awkward discussion with his father, they seemed to be having an awful lot of those lately. “W-we didn’t discuss my mate. You asked if I was in a relationship with Shepard!”

“And you said you weren’t.”

“Because I’m not!”

“Exactly, so we’ve taken steps to find you a suitable mate.” 

The Vakarians locked into a stalemate for a prolonged moment. Garrus quickly started strategizing internally, trying to figure out an escape from this conversation at least if not this whole idea.

“Perhaps we should look at the list,” Sparatus suggested, ever the diplomat. Victus pulled out a datapad and set it on the desk, menacing in its mundane appearance. “There are many good candidates here, several of which you already know, Garrus. You worked with them back at C-Sec.”

Spirits, there was no other way out of this. He was going to have to lie. He was going to have to ‘lie his ass off’ as Joker would say. Victus opened the datapad and pushed it towards him.

“Wait! What if…” Garrus started uncertainly. “What if I’m… already seeing someone?”

All three of their faces immediately became highly suspicious.

“And who are they?” Dad asked, crossing his arms. There was a distinct note of disbelief in his subvocals.

“I’d… rather not say. We… haven’t discussed telling anyone about our… relationship yet.”

“Right,” Dad replied, that note getting louder. “You sure you aren’t just trying to stall the inevitable with secret significant others?”

“Could you blame me if I was?” Garrus edged.

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“How about this,” Victus stepped back in before the Vakarians could be locked into another stalemate. “There is a dinner in two days to thank the engineers rebuilding the Citadel. The press will be present, but not in full force. Speak with your… person and bring them to the party. If they’re not willing to face the press in this setting, they’re probably not a good fit to be the mate of the future Primarch of Palaven.”

It was a reasonable enough request. So reasonable Garrus couldn’t immediately find a way around it. “Fine. I’ll… talk to them.”

“Good. Till then, we’ll just hold on to the list.” Victus put the damned datapad back in the desk and folded his hands. “If you have nothing else, you are dismissed, Garrus.”

“Thank you, sirs.” He deliberately avoided his father’s piercing gaze and left the office, not stopping till he was clear of the embassy as a whole. 

Aimlessly, he drifted out onto the boulevard outside the embassies, contemplating the abrupt shift in his life plan that had just occurred in the last fifteen minutes. 

Okay. So he had two days to find a mate, or he would be bonded. Possibly to one of his old co-workers, he shuddered at the thought. Spirits, he needed a drink… or twelve.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.”

Garrus turned to see Shepard walking towards him, moving quite swiftly despite her cane. Course it helped that people jumped out of her way almost in deference to her. She kept her focus on him, however, giving him a warm smile. Though he didn’t smile back, his mood did improve considerably just by her arrival. Shepard always felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Who died?” she asked, coming up to join him.

“My personal life,” he groused. 

She looked from him back to the collection of newly constructed buildings behind them. “Let me guess, more future Primarch revelations?”

He nodded. 

Her mildly amused expression immediately dropped off. “They’re not making you move back to Palaven, are they?”

He hadn’t even thought of that. This just got worse and worse. “Not yet. Eventually, probably. Victus wants to start… mentoring me.”

She studied him for a few moments. “You don’t have to look so heartbroken about it. Most people would love to be the leader of their planet.”

He scoffed. “Most people are morons.”

She chuckled and leaned on the railing overlooking one of the still empty lakes. “I don’t know why you were surprised. It’s the military way after all.”

“Do well with the hard work, get rewarded with even harder work,” he repeated, bitterly.

“Exactly. Why do you think I retired?”

“Yeah, about that,” he said, turning to face her. “How come between the two of us, you get to retire and do whatever the hell you want, but I have to be Primarch some day? I was there with you for most everything you did.”

She laughed. “Tell you what, next time we fight in a galactically devastating war, I’ll let you be the spear tip and then I’ll be Primarch afterwards.” 

“It’s only fair,” he grumbled. But he still smiled. She’d done it again. They were good at always picking each other up, no matter the circumstances. He nodded down at her cane. “Your knee bothering you again?”

She shook her head. “Not really, just gets tired if I’m on my feet all day.”

He glanced back at the embassies. “More AI Rights committee meetings?” he guessed.

She nodded, and a rueful expression crossed her face. “I’m glad they’re back so that we can even have the meetings at all, but sometimes I wonder if perhaps my punishment for sending them offline is having to attend the meetings.”

“Knowing EDI, it just might be.” If only someone on the Primarch’s list was someone he trusted like Shepard, someone easy to be around like Shepard, maybe then he could be on board with their plan. “Hey, you don’t happen to know any unmated turians, do you?”

She thought for a moment. “I think Chellick is still single… why?”

Garrus grimaced. Not that he minded Chellick as a former co-worker verging on friend, but that certainly didn’t mean he wanted to be bondmates with him. “No reason.” 

It was embarrassing enough having the Primarch of Palaven involved in his personal life, he didn’t need the Savior of the Galaxy also involved. At least not yet, he wanted a plan in place before he clued his best friend in. Though what sort of plan would get him a mate in two days, he wasn’t really sure. 

Glancing up at the wide windows of the turian embassy, Garrus caught his father observing him from a distance. The odd feeling like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to swept over him. He didn’t want to stay here any longer.

“You free this evening? I could use several drinks.” He offered his arm so she didn’t have to keep using the cane, which she gratefully took.

“Please, Primarch Vakarian, you must allow me the honor of buying the first round.”

“You keep that up, Admiral, you’re going to buy every round.”

Chapter Text

This was a crazy idea. Right? Right. Absolutely insane, completely mad, totally ridiculous. But what else was Garrus going to do? He clenched and stretched his hands as he entered the elevator, hitting the button for the top floor and typing in the keycode. 

Two whole days of planning had passed, and this idea was all he had to show for it. And it was… risky. Frankly, it made goading the gangs of Omega into a one man standoff look reserved and methodical.

The ding from the opening elevator doors echoed through the spacious apartment. He stepped in and took a deep breath, inhaling the calming aroma of the space and trying to clamp down on his seemingly perpetual panic. 

After a moment, Shepard’s head stuck out from around a corner, and she smiled at him. “Hey, wasn’t expect–”

“Shepard, I’m in trouble,” he cut her off. Her smile immediately disappeared, and she quickly moved towards him, looking concerned. He sighed, running a hand over his fringe. “I need your help.”

She nodded solemnly and abruptly turned to a panel in the wall. It lit up as she stepped towards it, and she pressed her thumb to the screen for a moment. Immediately, the windows of the entire apartment darkened, casting the space in an abrupt shadow. The doors triple-locked behind him and strategic lighting appeared along the floor. A door that he’d never given much thought to before suddenly opened.

“I don’t have any armor that will fit you, but I do have the new Mantis,” she said, turning for the door.

“I–The one that hasn’t been released yet?” he asked, thoroughly side-tracked and following her into the closet. Showroom was perhaps the better descriptor, Garrus decided, as he stared in awe at the small munitions warehouse Shepard had in the middle of her apartment. Weaponry of all types and makes were arranged glamorously along the walls, backlit and gleaming. In the back, three suits of her armor were displayed on mannequins in glass cases with strategic lighting. The one in the middle was hardly more than a melted chestplate, but from first glance, he knew it was the exact set she wore through the Reaper War. She really was the coolest person he knew.

“They sent it to me a few days ago. I think they’re trying to court me into being their celebrity endorsement.” She pulled on a handle, and a rack of submachine guns rolled smoothly out of the wall. She picked up her preferred Locust and slid the rack back into place. “I told them to call you. Pass me a heat sink?” She pointed to the shelf behind him. 

He glanced over and realized that he’d been pulled off track. “As much as I’d prefer this, it’s not this type of trouble,” he said, still staring longingly at the shiny sniper rifle on a table in the middle of the room. His talons practically itched to touch it.

“Pity.” She set the gun down on the other table and studied him for a moment. “Do you want to mod the Mantis while you tell me about it?”

He nodded. “Please. Scopes?”

“Third drawer down,” she said, pointing to a tall row of drawers and shelves in the back corner. He picked the best thermal scope from her personal collection. When he returned to the table Shepard had pulled up a stool for herself and set out the tools he’d need. He set about first overclocking the targeting interface, focusing on the ingrained motions so he could pick where to even begin.

“This feels familiar,” she commented after a few minutes. He looked up, and she was already holding out the tool he was about to reach for.

“Few things do these days,” he replied, taking the screwdriver from her. They were quiet for another minute.

“So since it’s not this type of trouble, I would guess that this probably has something to do with that meeting you had a couple days ago that you were so cagey about.”

He glanced at her, and she was giving him a small knowing smile. Of course she hit on it straight away. Her aim was just as good as his, especially when it came to each other. “Yeah. It does.”

She moved her head a little and waved a hand, inviting him to elaborate.

He sighed and decided to launch a full frontal assault. “I’m getting married.”

She sat up, looking bewildered. “ What? T-to who??”

“I don’t know.” He put the screwdriver down and slid the scope into place on the gun.

Meanwhile, Shepard was blinking at him and looking thoroughly confused. “Garrus, you’re going to have to help me out here.”

He moved back to the corner and started opening up drawers. He was pretty sure he’d noticed the piercing mods near the scopes. “ Apparently , because of my new position in the Hierarchy, Victus and Sparatus and my father want me bonded and settled. So I’m not a target for… ah.” He found the exact mod he was hoping she had. “For power hungry families.”

“I guess that kind of makes sense in a way,” she mused. “Even if it is insulting the lack of faith they have in you to pick your own mate.”

He nodded and started deconstructing the body to install the mod. “Exactly.”

She paused for a moment. “But you said you were in trouble… this all sounds non-immediate.”

“Yeah…” He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “I may have told them that I was seeing someone already so they wouldn’t set me up with one of their candidates.”

“But you’re not dating anyone.”

“Correct.”

“So… find a person you want to date then,” she suggested.

He held a finger. “One. You say that like it’s easy.” He raised a second. “Two. I have to bring said non-existent partner to a dinner tomorrow .”

A single laugh escaped from her before she slapped a hand over her mouth. She took a moment to swallow the rest before speaking. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound very sincere.

He waved a hand. “No, go ahead, I’d be laughing if it wasn’t happening to me.”

A few more laughs escaped her, and her cheeks turned a little pink. “Damn, Garrus. I… wow. That’s… yeah, you were right. You really are in trouble.”

“As Jack would say, I’m fucked.”

She nodded, then thought for a moment. “So what are you going to do?”

His fingers drummed on the tabletop for a moment, already wavering on this plan before he’d even tried it. “I was going to ask for your help…”

She tilted her head to the side. “Yeah, of course, but I have to tell you my Spectre authority is as good as defunct these days. I doubt I could get even Sparatus to back off, much less Victus or your dad.”

He looked at her for a few seconds, wondering if it wouldn’t be better to just capitulate to the Hierarchy’s wishes. But since when had he ever done that? 

“Actually, I… was hoping you would come to the dinner tomorrow… with me.” He said each word individually, as if spacing them apart would make the sum total less horrific.

“But won’t they think we’re–” She stopped. Her eyebrows jumped to her hairline. “You want them to think we’re dating,” she said slowly. 

“Yes.”

“You want them to think I’m your secret girlfriend.”

“Yes.”

She stared at him for a full minute then she made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a scoff. “You’re out of your mind.” 

Not a great initial reaction, but she hadn’t shot him yet. And given where they were standing, he was acutely aware of the literally dozens of options she had at her fingertips.

“If you have another solution I’ll take it, but I don’t see any right now.” He dared to step a little closer and read her face. Emotions were flickering over the surface so rapidly he hardly had time to parse them before they were gone. “This way at least buys time,” he explained gently. “Which is really what I need right now.”

“Garrus,” she sighed, shoving a hand through her hair. “You know I’m not good at this lovey-dovey stuff. If-if you want to do this, why don’t you ask Tali?”

“I did, but she can’t get here from Rannoch in time.”

Her eyes suddenly turned severe, and her mouth dropped open. “So not only would I be your fake girlfriend, I’d be your second choice fake girlfriend??”

He blinked at her a few times, her sudden shift in demeanor catching him way off guard. “What? Y-you just said–”

“You don’t tell a girl that she’s a second round draft pick, Vakarian,” she spat. She jumped off her stool and stormed out of the closet, muttering under her breath. 

He looked around at the empty room for half a moment. What just happened here? Did he miss something?

Garrus quickly followed after Shepard into the kitchen. “Why are you mad? It sounded a second ago like you didn’t want to do this.”

“I don’t!” she shouted over her shoulder, still storming through her apartment.

“So why are you mad?” he asked again, catching up to her. He almost ran into her when she suddenly stopped and faced him again. 

“Because you didn’t ask me first!”

“You–” He took a breath and decided it would be best to let go of this odd logical inconsistency of hers. Lose the battle, win the war. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to be at her eye level. “ Alright , cards on the table. You were my first choice. You will always be my first choice for anything. But I figured you’d say no, so I asked Tali. And when she said she couldn’t, I thought–”

“You thought, ‘let me ask my good friend Shepard because she’s an idiot and has nothing better to do with her time these days’,” she said in a very poor impression of his voice.

He stood back up and rolled his eyes. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds worse than it is.”

“Oh, I’m sorry , are you not asking me to lie to the leaders of a major galactic power about my personal life?”

She may have had a point. “Listen, it’s just for the party, alright?” he tried to reason, leaning close to her again. “I know this is a huge favor I’m asking of you, but I think you owe me a few after all the times I saved your life over the years.”

She rolled her eyes, but appeared to be thinking for a few moments. He didn’t say a word, just watched her impassive expression for any sign of agreement.

“ If I do this, you don’t get to keep bringing up that time on Tuchanka at every Normandy reunion.”

“Done.”

Surprise appeared on her face. “You love telling that story.”

“I love not being bonded to a perfect stranger even more,” he replied, dryly.

She gave him an appraising look for a couple of seconds and then heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll be your fake girlfriend for one. Party.” She held up a single finger. “One.”

“One, yes. Thank you, Shepard,” he said as earnestly as he could. Already he could feel some panic lifting. It was still a crazy plan, but they were Shepard and Vakarian. There was no one he’d rather have at his side for a plan like this one. “Really. Thank you.”

She sighed again. “Just tell me the dress code and where I’m meeting you.”

“It’s formal and…” He paused. He hadn’t had an established romantic relationship in a very long time. But if he was actually dating Shepard, he wouldn’t just meet up with her at the event. “Well, we should probably go together. I’ll get a car and meet you here.”

“I’m already regretting this.”

Chapter Text

Garrus checked the time as he rode the elevator up to Shepard’s apartment the next evening, the night of the damning dinner. They had plenty of time, but the fact did little to comfort him. Even with Shepard on board, he was painfully aware of the rickety nature of the idea. There were just so many things that could go wrong, he thought as he walked into the apartment.

“Garrus?” Shepard called from the direction of her bedroom down the hall.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied. He stared at the bar in the dining room where he knew there was some truly excellent horosk she kept on hand just for him. Probably a bad idea, he needed all of his wits about him to deal with the many, many things that could go wrong. So wrong, so so–whoa.

Shepard stepped into the room, and Garrus’ eyes went wide.

Over the years, Garrus had overheard enough drunken conversations from Alliance recruits to know that Shepard was considered beautiful by human standards. And after the Reaper War, most of the galaxy seemed to agree with the humans on that fact. Garrus had never really given much thought to Shepard’s appearance though; to him, she was always so much bigger than just her body. Her spirit was indomitable and magnetic. That was why he’d followed her into the probable end three times without hesitation, not the color of her hair or the curve of her smile.

But standing in her living room and looking at her now, Garrus suddenly had to agree with those drunk Alliance soldiers and the rest of the galaxy. A part of him wondered how he’d never seen it before. She was… astonishing. Maybe it was the way her hair was swept up that made her neck look longer. Or the cut of the dress that made her waist slimmer. No, it was the way she raised her chin defiantly and fixed him with her cool look that had been known to knock lesser men to their knees. A new flavor of nerves suddenly washed over him.

“What do you think?” Shepard asked, smoothing her hands over the black fabric of the dress.

“I–” He cleared his throat and made himself stop staring. It only half-worked. “You… good. You look good.”

She looked a little amused, though he could see some nerves settling on her bare shoulders. “Never been a future Primarch’s girlfriend before, wasn’t sure what they wear.”

He stepped towards her, trying to keep the stunned and approving hum out of his subvocals. “I think you achieved it masterfully–” He paused. There was a bold red stripe down the front left of the black dress. “I… I didn’t know that they made N7 ball gowns.”

Her cheeks and the base of her neck turned immediately pink. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. They don’t, this is from–” She took in a breath and rolled her eyes a little. “That commander fashion line last year. Kasumi thought it was hilarious and got me the dress from it and-and I didn’t have time to find a new one today.”

He smiled a little. “Well, it’s what you’re known for.”

“People are going to think I don’t own clothes of any other color.”

“You don’t though.”

“Not by choice,” she insisted, crossing her arms a little. “How much time do we have?”

He checked his omnitool. “We should probably get going. Car’s waiting downstairs.” 

“Alright. Let’s go, boyfriend.” 

He called the elevator while she took one last look in the mirror in the front hall. She was fussing with some of the wispy hair around her face, seemed to be teasing out a few more strands than before. As the elevator dinged, she frowned at her reflection and turned away.

Garrus stiffened as Shepard stepped into the elevator and stood deliberately nearer to him than she usually stood. The back of her hand grazed his as she turned around. He was so rarely without gloves that feeling her skin briefly on his drew his immediate and full attention.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he stepped away a little and pressed the button for the lobby.

She glanced up at him and gave him an odd look. “If you want people to think we’re dating, you’re going to have to touch me at some point this evening.”

Right. Couples usually had casual contact with each other. And they were pretending to be one of those. Right, right, right. He glanced over at her, wondering where would be a safe place to touch her. Tentatively, he stretched a hand out and rested it on her furthest shoulder from him. Her skin was warm and impossibly smooth under his palm. He could see in the reflection of the doors that she looked about half-way between laughing and frowning.

“Really?” she asked, deadpanned.

“What?”

“The shoulder? That’s practically the most platonic place you could touch me, Garrus.” 

“What did you expect? We certainly can’t walk into the party with me holding one of your–” Crap, he’d forgotten the word. What were they called again? No matter, the joke had lost its momentum and he was left vaguely motioning towards her chest with his free hand. She gave him a sardonic look, and he dropped his hands away from her with a huff.

“Where would you touch me if I was a turian?”

“I wouldn’t . Turians don’t really do physical contact in public.” He looked away from her, his neck heating up in embarrassment. Great, not even to the car yet and the plan was already starting to fall apart.

There were a few seconds of quiet where just the low hum of the elevator filled the space. Then he felt Shepard gently take his hand in hers. He could do this, he’d done this before–though usually if he was holding her hand they were hauling each other out of danger and certain death. After a moment, her fingers entwined with his, palms flat against each other.

“How’s this?” she asked gently. He nodded. He’d never held her hand like this before, but it felt good. Natural, even. “Human couples hold hands, but it can also be done between friends. I don’t know if this is going to be enough to convince them. But if it’s what you’re comfortable with, then we’ll make it work.”

She squeezed his hand comfortingly as the doors to the elevator opened into the empty lobby. Outside the glass doors, their skycar awaited. But Garrus stopped before they left the lobby. She looked back at him, and he stepped closer to her.

“What would be enough, do you think?” he asked in a low voice, glancing around to double check that they were still alone.

Her eyebrows raised. “If I tell you, it’s going to make your mandibles do that twitchy thing they always do when you’re surprised.”

“They don’t do a twitchy thing.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they d–” She grabbed his wrists and set his hands on her waist. He froze and his mandibles twitched back and forth. He looked from where he was touching her to her face and back down several times. They were doing this in public ??

“Now I know this area’s a little different for turians so I won’t return the favor,” she said, sounding completely calm. “But if you really want to put on a show, just park your hand right here whenever you want.”

He swallowed and nodded. His eyes went wide as she slid her hands up his arms to rest her palms on his chest. She calmly met his gaze and didn’t push any farther, thank goodness. There was already a lot to take in at the moment. She was so close; he’d never been this close to her without armor. His thumb moved slowly back and forth over her hip, the fabric of her dress changing textures depending on the direction.

“What’s this fabric called?” he asked quietly.

“Girlfriend material,” she replied. He frowned. What? Her self-satisfied smile disappeared and she cleared her throat a little. “Velvet.”

He took a small breath and made himself relax. He could do this. He’d done this before, well, not with Shepard or any other human, but surely some principles cross-applied. He smoothed his hands around to her lower back and pulled her a little closer towards him. 

Her smile grew wider. “See? Not so bad, right? I promise I don’t bite–well, unless asked.” 

He shot her an unamused look. “I’m not… inexperienced. Just this isn’t really done where others can see.” He glanced around again. People were passing by on the street outside, but no one was paying them any mind.

“Tough. You’re dating a human this evening, and humans are tactile creatures.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to realize that.” He watched her smooth the front of his jacket, the gesture a little alarming, but still pleasant. Comforting even. 

“So, are we going to just stand here in a mildly amorous embrace all evening, or are you taking me to a dinner party?” she asked, sounding amused. 

He chuckled a little. “Well,” he drawled, relaxing more now and dropping his voice down into flirtatious octaves. “If we were really dating, I’d probably just skip the party all together. Go back upstairs and have a party of our own.”

Her amused expression disappeared, and he felt the muscles on her back tense slightly. She laughed a half-breath too late. “That’s the spirit.” She turned away before he could put his finger on the cause of her oddly hesitant reaction. Maybe she was nervous too. He certainly understood that.

Garrus opened the door for her and took her hand again. Even if it was just a short walk to the car, he needed to get in the habit. It felt better this time too.

“I think this will work, Garrus,” Shepard said as she got in the car. “I have a good feeling about this.” When she looked up at him there was a familiar look in her eyes, one that he’d seen before every battle, every mission. It’d been several years since he’d seen that look, this particular brand of determination from her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

Jane Shepard was an idiot. Under normal circumstances, anyone who made such claims would probably meet the business end of her biotics. But the evidence over the last… well, the last several years was fairly damning. After all, only an idiot falls in love with her best friend. And only an idiot languishes in silence for years for fear of ruining their friendship. And only an idiot then tells said best friend that she will pose as his fake girlfriend to the leaders of a major galactic power in order to stave off unwanted marriages. She had no choice but to conclude that she was, in fact, an idiot.

Or perhaps, she was just insane, she thought as they pulled up to the building where the dinner was being held. Her heart jumped up into her throat at the realization of exactly what she was going to do. 

There was a small gathering of lethargic looking reporters near the front entrance. But she knew they’d perk up the moment either of them stepped out of the car. She sighed; sometimes she really missed being anonymous.

“You still okay with this?” Garrus asked, glancing over at her.

She nodded. “As long as we don’t have to pose for the press for too long.”

“Never,” he promised. He parked at the curb and got out. Shepard took one last steadying breath before Garrus opened her door and offered her his hand. She plastered her press smile on her face as she took his hand and stepped out.

Immediately, several cameras zoomed over their direction, blinding them from all angles. She looped her arm through Garrus’ and followed him to the front door. Calls of ‘Commander Shepard, over here! Smile this way, Commander!’ bombarded them at every step.

“Don’t they know you’re not a Commander anymore?” Garrus asked, leaning close enough so she could hear him over the din.

“I’m pretty sure they think my first name is Commander,” she replied with a smile. He laughed, and a warm feeling filled her chest at the sight.

Luckily, it was a short walk through the cacophony, and then they were inside. A slow elevator ride later, they stepped out into the glittering hall where the dinner was being held. Even for as often as Shepard attended them these days, she was never really a fan of these types of parties. Too much overly polite conversation and something about string quartets always set her on edge.

She surveyed the hall like she used to survey battlefields, quickly locating the exits, the restrooms, and most importantly, the bar.

“Two o’clock,” she said quietly, turning her face away from the party and fiddling with an earring. 

Garrus surreptitiously scoped out the group of turian dignitaries she’d spotted. “I see Victus, Sparatus… and there’s my father. Perfect.”

She couldn’t tell if he meant that or not. “Do you want to go now or wait?”

“Now. Definitely now,” he said, nodding a little. “Let’s get this over with.”

She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. It made him look down at her and smile. They could do this, another mission for Shepard and Vakarian.

“Once more unto the breach,” she said with a smile.

They wove their way around the tables towards the group. Shepard was aware even more so than usual of how so many eyes in the room turned toward them. Their targets were no exception; the circle of turian elite automatically fanned open to include them as they approached. They were a go. 

“Primarch,” Garrus said as they arrived. “Councillor… Admiral Hackett.”

Shepard blanched a little as she locked eyes with her former commander. Hackett had been hidden by the larger turians as they approached, but there was no backing out of this conversation now. Shepard watched his eyes flicker from their faces to her hand that Garrus was still holding, a silver eyebrow twitched upward. He couldn’t have made it this far without being at least a little observant. Dammit.

“Advisor Vakarian,” Victus greeted. “Glad you could make it. And Admiral Shepard, always a pleasure to see you.”

Shepard didn’t have to fake this smile; she’d always liked Victus. They’d got on well during the war, and peace hadn’t changed that. “You too, Victus. I’m glad to see they were able to pry you away from Palaven for at least one evening.” A polite chuckle ran through the group. Deciding to face the turn of events, she looked Hackett’s way. “How are things on Earth, Admiral?”

“Much the same since your last visit. It’s a good time to be in the construction business. Everywhere’s being rebuilt as fast as we possibly can, but experts say it’ll still be decades before we’re back to what we were.”

If she hadn’t learned how to read turian body language so well over the last several years, she would have missed the way all the turians in the group were looking expectantly towards Garrus as Hackett spoke. They obviously wanted confirmation of what they already suspected. Garrus delivered. He nonchalantly let go of her hand and slid his hand over her lower back to rest on her waist. Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard watched Victus, Sparatus, and Castis’ mandibles do the same twitching movement Garrus’ had earlier. 

Hackett also noticed the gesture and just chuckled. “Spectre Alenko owes me fifty credits.”

Shepard forced a smile and gritted her teeth. Spectre Alenko better run , she silently warned the man who was probably thousands of lightyears away at the moment. Technically, she couldn’t hear turian subvocals unless she was touching one, but from the expression on his face, she’d bet every credit in her account that Victus’ were rolling with delight at this new development.

“So does this mean that you and the Admiral are…?” Sparatus trailed off, waiting for Garrus to give verbal confirmation.

“Yes, Shepard is the, ah… my girlfriend.” The very human word sounded odd coming out of his mouth. But there wasn’t an equivalent in his language; turian relationships tended to be very casual until they decidedly were Not. A fact which had been both Shepard’s salvation and damnation over the years.

“How long has this been going on?” Castis asked.

From how close they were standing, she could feel Garrus’ muscles tighten. Shit, they hadn’t decided on a timeline. It should be relatively short, she tried to think loud enough for Garrus to hear in the split second they had before one of them had to answer. Short, a few weeks, maybe a month or two–

“A year,” Garrus replied. 

Or that. He could say that. 

Now everyone in the circle looked surprised. She worked to keep her face calm, like she wasn’t internally wondering when the hell Garrus had become so bad at improv.

“Impressive that you were able to keep it out of the public eye for so long,” Sparatus commented.

“Have to put that stealth training to good use somehow,” Shepard said breezily, earning another polite chuckle and smoothing over his foible.

“You know, I always assumed you two were just good friends,” Victus said.

“We were, and now we’re not–I mean, we still, ah–” Garrus stumbled through his sentence. Shepard stopped him by slipping her arm behind him and catching his eye.

“You’re right. We were friends for a long time, and then we decided that we’d be good as more too,” she said simply. 

He nodded. “Exactly.” 

“If I may, what changed your minds about each other?” Victus asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Shepard spoke up before Garrus got a chance to say any more stupid things that would put them in more hot water. “Well…” She glanced up at Garrus, thinking quickly. Lies were always stronger when there was a dash of truth in them. And this way, she didn’t even have to work to mean the words. “I’ve been crazy about him for a while now. Round about the time I was holding his face together with my bare hands is when I realized that he meant more to me than just as a good friend.”

Victus smiled, but Garrus looked a little shocked. He blinked a few times before realizing he needed to answer too.

“I, uh… I just…” He looked down at her, a gentle smile appearing in his expression. It looked very nearly genuine too. “I just looked at her one day and realized that it was her. That it had been her all along.”

Oh . This is what this felt like–to be the person that Garrus adored wholeheartedly. Oh, ow. She smiled and glanced away, trying to feign some sort of embarrassment. But really it felt like if she held his gaze any longer she might drown in it.

“Well, congratulations to you both,” Hackett said, offering a rare smile. 

“Indeed,” Victus affirmed with a nod. “I do have to say, as a turian, it makes me proud to see the pride of humanity on the arm of one of our own.”

“Most definitely,” Hackett replied dryly. “Nothing less than the turian almost solely responsible for saving his entire race would be good enough for an Alliance marine.”

Of course they found a way to turn this into some sort of semi-friendly rivalry. At least she hoped it was friendly, both Victus and Hackett were First Contact War vets. It seemed good natured enough, so Shepard just smiled blithely.

“We should probably find our seats before they start serving,” she suggested.

“You’re at my table,” Castis said, stepping forward. “I can show you.”

They nodded good-byes and trailed along behind Castis. She relaxed a little. They did it, they actually managed to pull it off. They just had to get through this dinner, and then it was smooth sailing. 

“Did you mean what you said?” Garrus asked quietly enough that Castis couldn’t overhear them.

“When?” she replied, glancing up at him and very aware of his hand still on her waist.

“About… when you were holding my face together…”

Yes . “It’s for the story, Garrus.” She forcibly dragged her eyes away from him. “I have a part to play.”

“Right,” he rumbled after a moment. An odd look passed through his eyes. But before she had time to study it, they arrived at the table, and Shepard locked eyes with the absolute worst possible person to see at that very moment.

“Shepard, Garrus,” Liara said with a smile. It froze on her face as her eyes suddenly zeroed in on Garrus’ hand still on Shepard’s waist. She bounced between the hand and both their faces a few times before settling on Shepard. If looks could kill , she suddenly thought, we’d be needing Miranda’s expertise again . 

“Liara, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Shepard said, sitting down next to Garrus. The waiters arrived at that exact moment so there was no time to sneak away. And Castis was sitting at their table, so the game was still on. This just suddenly got a whole lot more difficult.

“Dad, do you know Dr. Liara T’Soni?” Garrus asked, clinging desperately to protocol.

“Yes, we’ve met several times before,” Castis replied. Victus and Sparatus were obviously happy by the news, but she hadn’t been able to get a read on Castis yet. Maybe he’d be content to let sleeping dogs lie. She should have known better. The first course had barely been plated when he decided to strike. “I seem to recall a conversation last year in which you said you weren’t dating Shepard, Garrus, now I find out you have been for a whole year.”

Liara’s eyes went wide. “You’ve been what ?” Sometimes it was easy to forget that Liara was once a doe-eyed sheltered archaeologist they’d rescued from a prison of her own making, and then there were times like right then.

Castis’ brow plates jumped up. “You haven’t even told your squad?”

Garrus grabbed Shepard’s hand, clenching hard enough to hurt. He was panicking; she would handle this.

“We didn’t tell anyone at first because we knew there’d be a lot of pressure if we were public with our relationship,” Shepard explained smoothly. “We needed to find out if it was even something that we wanted… and it just became a habit to be discreet.”

The way Castis was looking at Garrus made it very clear that that particular conversation was not over. But Shepard doubted she would be a part of it. Hopefully she’d laid enough groundwork for him to manage on his own. Liara on the other side of the table was making Very Significant Eye Contact with her everytime she happened to glance her way. Another conversation that was not over. Wonderful.

But luckily, the conversation drifted away from their ‘relationship’ to more mundane topics, and dinner continued normally. Well, as normal as ever with Garrus occasionally touching her. He seemed to have really taken to heart her guidance on physical contact, or he was just trying to make up for lost ground. 

Either way, it was distracting . It was all the best parts of their friendship–the inside jokes, the knowing looks, the shared smiles–but brought into this whole new intimate dimension. She indulged every impulse she’d ever had around him, resting a hand on his arm, paying particular attention when he spoke, leaning over to whisper to him and then trailing fingers across his shoulders as she left the table. They probably looked a little clingy, but this was the only night in her life that she’d get to do these things with him. She was going to take every opportunity that came her way.

However, Shepard wasn’t the only one seizing opportunities. Before Shepard even made it two tables away, she noticed Liara rise and follow after her. Oh, god. She hurried to the restroom and ducked into a stall, hopefully Liara would at least let her wash her hands before flaying her alive.

“You and Garrus are dating ???” Liara demanded the moment the door shut behind her. Shepard didn’t reply, maybe she’d think she’d left. But the hem of an effortlessly fashionable gown appeared on the floor in front of Shepard’s stall. “I know you’re in there, Shepard. No one else is wearing N7 couture tonight.”

Shepard rolled her eyes and sighed before stepping out of the stall again. 

Liara’s wide eyes narrowed as she regarded her. “What is going on?”

Shepard pushed past her and headed for the sinks. “You already heard it. Garrus and I are dating, it’s not a big deal.” She quickly scanned the rest of the room, it appeared that they were alone in here. A small mercy.

“You are not dating,” Liara accused.

“Yes, we are.”

“No, you’re not. I would have heard about it.”

Shepard folded her arms and turned around to face her friend. “Just because you’re the Shadow Broker doesn’t mean you know everything.”

“Yes, it does,” she replied, dismissively. “And even if I wasn’t the Shadow Broker, I’d still know that you and Garrus haven’t been dating for a year because two months ago when Tali was visiting from Rannoch, the three of us shared a case of dual-chirality wine and I seem to recall a certain former commander claiming that she was over all men, especially the turian ones.”

Shepard grimaced. Damn that wine, still this wasn’t unsalvageable yet. But Liara wasn’t finished.

“ And I also know that Tali received a request from Garrus two days ago to come with him to this very party, now why would he do that if he already had a girlfriend for the past year?”

Shepard was good at thinking on her feet–excellent, in fact. She’d built her career on it; hell, saved the galaxy with her ability to adapt and overcome. But right now in this bathroom and staring down one of her oldest friends, she was having a hell of a time trying to get the two stories to line up.

“Alright, fine . We’re not exactly dating,” she admitted slowly.

Liara rolled her eyes. “I knew that already–what I want to know is why you’re saying you are.”

Shepard shrugged. “It’s for Garrus. Hierarchy wants him bonded and he doesn’t want to be. Simple as that.”

“Garrus needs Commander Shepard to fend off potential bondmates?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Well, Commander Shepard’s not doing much else with her time these days, so why not?” Shepard said, turning back to the mirror and checking her hair quickly. It was really just a uniform bun with a few face-framing tendrils… it hadn’t survived as well as she’d hoped it would. Maybe that’s why people owned hairspray.

Liara interrupted her train of thought with a hand on her shoulder. Concern was written all over her face. “I… can’t believe I’m about to say this to you of all people, but this is a very bad plan,” she implored.

“It’s not. It’s just for tonight. All this does is buy Garrus some time to figure out a long-term solution.” She cracked a smile, trying to aim for something playful. “Come on, Liara. Don’t you trust me?”

But Liara wasn’t moved an inch from her entrenched position. “I do trust you. And that’s why I don’t want to see you get hurt. I know how you feel about–”

“It’s fine ,” Shepard cut her off before she could finish that sentence. It was one thing to talk about that four bottles of wine deep, another thing to discuss it right now. Shepard straightened up and gave Liara a confident look. “The party’s almost over and then… Cinderella will go home, the N7 ball gown will turn back into a pumpkin, and everything will be just like it was.”

Liara looked very skeptical but she sighed and stepped back. “If you say so…”

Chapter Text

When he’d set this plan in motion, Garrus hadn’t realized just how much of the actual party would be familiar territory. It almost felt like that final run on London; the awareness of the enormous probability of failure, but the absolute confidence that if there was any chance of success at all, Shepard would find it. And she did, both then and now. It was like she was back on the battlefield. She was decisive and bold, filled with conviction and just a little bit terrifying at times. It was easy to slip back into his role of being at her six, following her lead and ensuring her success. Especially since he proved several times unmatched for the task at hand.

As the dinner truly started, he endeavored to cover up his earlier verbal missteps by following her earlier guidance to the letter. An arm around the back of her chair, running his thumb over her knuckles as he held her hand–the more he touched her, the more natural it felt. Shepard kept up beautifully. In all the years he’d known her, he’d never seen her in a romantic relationship. He’d never seen her give anyone these small private smiles or look at anyone like she was looking at him right then, like he was the only other person in the room. As the evening progressed he decided that whoever that person was out there for her, they were a lucky bastard indeed. 

“I’ll be right back,” Shepard whispered, leaning close enough that Garrus could feel her breath brush across his neck. He nodded and froze momentarily as he felt her fingertips drag across his shoulders when she left the table. That… was a new one.

It wasn’t more than a few seconds later that Liara got up as well and headed directly after Shepard. He saw her notice Liara following her, and she practically ran to the restroom. Garrus did not envy Shepard at that moment. Though she probably didn’t envy him either, as his father suddenly picked up his glass and rose from the table.

“Garrus, come with me,” Dad ordered as he stepped away. Garrus stood and followed after his father resignedly. At least they were heading for the bar. Dad ordered his preferred brandy and Garrus did the same, deliberately ignoring that it was the same brand. The silence between them seemed stonier than usual.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this before,” Garrus offered, hoping to smooth over the perceived slight.

Dad sighed and scratched the skin on his neck. “I had hoped that we were past your need to compulsively hide your entire life from your family, but…” he said, sounding sadder than Garrus had expected him to.

“It wasn’t… there were extenuating–”

“I know. And I even understand. I don’t like it.” He gave Garrus a sharp look that had him instinctively ducking his head. “But I understand.”

He picked up his brandy and moved away from the bar, Garrus following a few steps behind and calming just a little. It wasn’t perfect, but his reaction was better than Garrus had initially thought it would be. 

Dad took a sip, looking out over the stately dinner still in progress. “What I don’t understand is how you’ve apparently been seeing Admiral Shepard for a year now, and you haven’t asked her to be your bondmate.”

“I–” Garrus suddenly processed the back half of his sentence. “ What ?”

“I’ve worked with enough humans to know what the term girlfriend means: exclusive but not dedicated.” He made a scoffing noise that made it very clear what he thought of human mating rituals. “And what I want to know is why you haven’t made a commitment to this woman yet.”

Garrus sputtered around a half-dozen sentences caught in his throat. Dad, however, took the lack of response as permission to continue on his diatribe.

“You’ve known her for almost a decade, you followed her into certain death for at least three tours, and now you’ve been together for over a year; what are you waiting for, Garrus? An engraved invitation?”

And because the universe not so secretly hated Garrus, Victus and Sparatus chose that very moment to join their conversation.

“Garrus,” Victus greeted him with a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Congratulations again. Castis, have you told him–”

“Yes, we were just getting to that now,” Dad replied with a mildly annoyed rumbling in his subvocals.

“Good. Honestly, I think this has worked out for the absolute best for everyone. I was hoping it was Shepard,” Victus said with a proud smile.

“As was I,” Sparatus added on.

Garrus looked between the two of them, momentarily stunned. “You were hoping I was dating Shepard?”

“Of course,” Victus replied as if it were somehow obvious. “We want the best for you, for Palaven. And there’s no one better than Admiral Shepard.”

He blinked at the Primarch a few times, a half-confused trill leaking out of him.

“You do realize that at least half the galaxy wishes they were so lucky as to have her attention the way you clearly do?” Sparatus asked, not unkindly. 

Something about the way he phrased that was loaded with ulterior meanings. “What are you saying?” Garrus asked.

“I’m saying that there are eight trillion people in line behind you.”

“Which brings us back to my original point,” Dad jumped back in. “ When are you going to ask her to be your bondmate?”

“I believe humans require jewelry when deciding to become mates,” Sparatus offered in a low tone.

“Easily procurable here on the Citadel,” Victus replied, sounding very self-assured.

Finally they all stopped talking and looked at him, but unfortunately that meant that Garrus had to start. Spirits above, please don’t let him dig his own grave with the next few sentences. 

“I… We’ve… we’ve talked about it, but nothing’s been decided,” he said, hoping that the stiltedness came off for reasons other than he was making up every word as he went along.

“So decide ,” Dad grumbled. “Or it will be decided for you.”

Finally Garrus found some ground to dig his metaphorical heels into. “I’m not going to push Shepard into marriage just because it’s convenient for Palaven.”

“You wouldn’t be pushing, she just said that she’s been attracted to you for years,” Victus retorted. “If anything, she’s probably been waiting for you to catch up.”

Oh, this just kept getting better and better. He’d brought Shepard into this arrangement because he didn’t want to be immediately bonded. Now it seemed that was just an inevitable and unavoidable fate–one that he’d also doomed Shepard to as well.

“But I… I don’t want to be bonded right now,” he insisted, finally copping up to the truth and hoping that perhaps they would accept it. “I–we- we are happy as we are.”

“Just because humans have an intermediate stage, doesn’t mean we do. While you’re yet unmated, you are free game,” Dad replied firmly, shutting down that attempt at escape.

“But–”

“You are going to be Primarch one day, Garrus, and with that comes specific obligations,” Victus cut back in. There was a touch of sympathy in his voice, which just made it all the more frustrating. Garrus knew that there were responsibilities with the position, but he didn’t even want to be Primarch in the first place, let alone deal with all the rest of the crap that apparently came with it. Wracking his brain, however, he found that he was out of options at the moment.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally conceded through gritted teeth. None of the three of them looked particularly happy about how little he’d promised them, but he was rescued when he spotted Shepard making her way over towards them. She looked between him and the others, instantly picking up on the tense atmosphere.

“Everything alright?” she asked gently as he slipped his arm around her again. It was odd how quickly that felt so natural to him.

“Everything’s fine,” Garrus replied, mentally daring Victus or his father to say anything to the contrary. They merely gave her polite nods and wandered back to the dinner which was now practically over. Most everyone were out of their seats, chatting with members of the other tables.

“Do you want to stay and mingle?” she asked, smoothing the lapel on his jacket.

“Spirits, no .”

 She chuckled a little and glanced around the room momentarily before stepping closer. He slipped his other hand behind her back, enjoying the texture of her velvet dress across his palm.

“You know, it is a very couple-y thing to sneak away early,” she said in a low throaty tone that he’d never heard from her before. The half-lidded gaze she fixed him with was the very definition of sultry. 

He cleared his throat a little, pulling his subvocals back into an acceptable range for polite company. They were just pretending, after all. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, nodding a little and returning her hands to his chest. The look in her eyes changed to something more like concern. “Now that they’re gone—is everything actually alright?”

He sighed a little and glanced away towards the party. Victus and the rest of the turian diplomatic contingency were obviously watching them, several skeptical expressions amongst the bunch. He dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “I’ll tell you later.”

She tensed again and her breathing hitched for a moment, fingers curling slightly over the edge of his cowl. He never knew she was such a good actress. Smiling slyly at her pink cheeks, he took her hand and led her to the elevator doors.

“Is everyone watching us?” she asked, holding his bicep and running her other hand along the delicate skin on the inside of his arm as they waited.

He surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder, a crowd had suddenly gathered at the end of the hallway. “Oh, yeah.”

“Any ideas for a big finish?”

“A few,” he said, modestly.

“You always did have a flair for the dramatic,” she teased with a smirk. The doors to the elevator opened with a quiet ding. 

“You love it,” Garrus growled, pulling Shepard into the elevator. He pushed her up against the back wall with his carapace, daring even to hold her waist again. He kept his face at her neck until the doors closed behind him. When he pulled away, she was looking up at him with very wide eyes and breathing shallowly. Some of her hair had fallen down from her bun. He quickly tucked it back behind her ear.

“Sorry,” he said, suddenly a little embarrassed. He stepped back to put a more platonic distance between them. “Might have gotten a bit carried away.” 

She flashed him a smile and laughed a little. “It’s alright…”

He took her hand again when they left the elevator, but thankfully the pack of reporters seemed to have dispersed for the time being. They didn’t speak much on the drive back to her apartment, his mind running circles around what to do about this bonding issue. Without even thinking about it, he got out with her at her apartment, offering his arm again.

“What a gentleman, walking your date back to her front door,” she commented with a grin.

“Of course, who do you take me for?” He called the elevator for her and checking that they were actually alone, he finally let go of her arm. “Thank you for… for everything tonight. It wouldn’t have worked without you.”

She regarded him for a moment. “Did it work?”

He shrugged a shoulder as the elevator arrived. “Time will tell.”

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” she asked. He raised a brow plate at her and smirked a little. She smacked his chest with the back of her hand. “Not like that! You just… really look like you could use a drink right about now.”

The elevator doors opened and he got on with her.

“Or twelve,” he added with a sigh.

Chapter Text

Shepard groaned as she floated to consciousness the next morning. Her neck was sore , why was she so sore? Thanks to her Cerberus enhancements, she hardly ever got hangovers anymore. But it almost felt like she couldn’t move, her limbs were so heavy. Her… everything was heavy. With her eyes closed, she puzzled about it for a few seconds before she got her answer.

A puff of warm air hit the back of her neck, then a very turian sounding mumble came from behind her. Shepard’s eyes shot open to reveal that she was in her living room, lying on her couch, and at some point in the night, she’d been turned into Garrus’ personal pillow.

He was wedged between her and the back of the couch with an arm thrown across her waist, holding her close. Her brain stuttered at the sight of his sleeping face for a full minute as she stared in shock. Had they–no, they were both still completely dressed in the outfits they’d worn to the dinner last night. She looked around at the whole room now, scouring for answers. It looked like somewhere around the eighth drink, they’d both just fallen over dead asleep. That seemed about right.

Before she could make herself too comfortable and go back to sleep, which seemed like a very reckless mistake, she scooted her way to the edge. Carefully, she extracted herself from under Garrus’ arm. He muttered again, mandibles twitching slightly, and rolled into the space she’d just vacated. She let herself watch him, a smile hovering in the corners of her mouth. For one stolen moment, she imagined softly waking him with a kiss and helping him into a real bed–their bed and settling back in with him for a lazy morning together. 

And as swiftly as the idea came, so did the guilt. That wasn’t her life to imagine. She frowned and shook her head, knocking the scene loose and out her ear. Don’t go too close to that fire, Jane, all you’ll get is burned . She picked up her skirt and tiptoed into the kitchen.

As quietly as she could, she set about making some coffee, both levo and dextro. Since the living space of her apartment was one large room, she’d barely set the pots to brew before Garrus let out a similar groan to the one she had upon waking. She chuckled silently as she hunted around for the sugar pot that seemed to have a very flirtatious relationship with this dimension, finding it on top of the fridge for some reason.

“Morning,” she said as Garrus moved gracelessly into the kitchen, squinting at the synthetic sunlight coming through the half-tinted windows. He grunted and fell into one of the barstools, dropping his head into his hand. “How are you feeling?”

He grunted again, and she fought back a laugh. Fitting, given how much horosk was missing from the bottle in the living room. She filled a glass of water and set it in front of him along with some painkillers.

“Do you still have–” he started asking, lifting his head. He then noticed the pills. “Oh, thanks.” She nodded and turned as the coffee pots finished their brewing cycle. She poured two cups, doctoring each to the drinker’s preferences, and then sat down next to Garrus with a contented sigh.

“Do you think Miranda would give me miraculous cybernetics that cure my hangovers?” he asked after taking the first sip.

“You could always ask,” Shepard replied, resting her elbows on the slate countertop. “Though I think you have to be sucked out of a spaceship first.”

He hummed in response, and they drank in contemplative silence for a few minutes. This was the first time she’d woken up in Garrus’ arms, she thought with a slight blush. But this wasn’t the first time a night together had turned into an accidental sleepover. It was such a common occurrence that they’d developed a bit of a ritual around the practice. Quiet coffee was always the first step.

Personally, Shepard treasured the tradition. And not just because it meant she got to share the time with Garrus. It’d been so long since she’d been in a place where she could develop her own patterns, her own routines. She’d never exchange her time in the Alliance, but she had to admit that civilian life did come with perks. Like quiet morning rituals and good coffee with her best friend.

Glancing over at Garrus proved that he was firmly on the road to being fully awake. He was always a slow mover in the mornings, but especially so after heavy drinking. She couldn’t remember what he was like in the morning back on the Normandy . Perhaps he’d changed speeds too.

“I have a question,” she said in a low thoughtful voice.

He took a slow sip. “Shoot.”

“Why did you tell Victus and the rest we’d been dating a year?” She made herself not look at him, staring down at the small bubbles formed along the rim of her coffee. “Wouldn’t a shorter time have made more sense?”

“I–” He rubbed the back of his neck; he always did that when he was uneasy. Nervous tic. “My thought process was… if it was too short a time, they might think we weren’t serious and could just be broken up to bond me off to someone they liked more. But I underestimated on… several accounts.”

She kept herself from pouncing on what the hell that meant and instead took another casual sip. “Care to elaborate?”

He sighed, his thumbs tapping on the mug in his hands. “Well, Victus, and Sparatus, and my father are very happy that we are dating. Ecstatic, practically. Hell, I probably could have told them that I’d just asked you out for the first time to the dinner and they would have been over the moons.”

She looked at him now, smiling a little. “So it worked then. They’re not trying to marry you to some stranger anymore.”

He met her gaze, mandibles held tight to his face. “No, not to some stranger.”

She nodded, the smile growing wider. “Good. I’m glad it worked out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too. I have the time to figure a way out of this now, which is what I needed.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thanks again, for your help.”

She turned her hand to hold his and squeezed back. “You know you can always count on me.” 

“Yeah, I do.” He let go over her hand and finished his coffee. “Well, do you want to go to Nico’s?”

“Of course. Let me find some shoes.”

Nico’s was the last step of their morning-after tradition, a thoroughly mediocre levo-dextro diner exactly half-way between their apartments on the Citadel. No one was allowed to change out of whatever clothes they woke up in till after breakfast at Nico’s. Shepard found some shoes and ran her fingers through her hair to try and comb it before she jumped into the elevator behind Garrus.

“Oh, I forgot,” Shepard said, turning to look at Garrus next to her. “Liara knows that we’re not really dating. She had some pretty damning evidence.”

He nodded, but didn’t look too worried. “That would make sense, given she’s the Shadow Broker and all.”

“Yeah,” she quickly agreed, shoving back the fact that Liara’s best evidence was some she’d gained first-hand. “I don’t think she’s going to rat us out or anything, but just so you know.”

“Yeah, thanks.” The elevator opened, and they stepped out into the quiet lobby.

“You want to guess what I’m going to order?” she asked, looking over at him and smiling.

“I guess that really terrible smelling yellow mush with those flat bread disks on the side,” he said, opening the door for her.

“Ah-ha, give the man a–”

“COMMANDER! ADVISOR! OVER HERE!”

Shepard was momentarily overwhelmed by the sudden flash of dozens of cameras directly in her face. Everywhere she looked there were raving reporters, all shouting at her. A forest of microphones and faces all pointed her way.

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN DATING!?”

“IS THERE GOING TO BE A WEDDING SOON!??”

“WHO’S THE LITTLE SPOON!?!”

The wave of sound drowned out every other sense as Shepard blindly groped for Garrus, grabbing his sleeve. When she finally found his face among the throng, he looked as panicked as she did. He grabbed her hand and dragged her back through the doors of her building, quickly retreating into the safety of the lobby. But the reporters now just pressed against the glass walls, cameras still flashing. Shepard made the mistake of looking back over her shoulder as they ran for the elevator. She was momentarily reminded of a zombie vid she watched as a teen. Their shouts, muffled now, still came through the wall to buffet against them.

“HAVE YOU BEEN DATING SINCE THE REAPER WAR??”

“WHY HAVE YOU BEEN KEEPING THIS SECRET!?”

“HOW DO YOU MANAGE CHIRALITY DIFFERENCES IN THE BEDROOM!!?”

Thankfully, they were silenced when the elevator doors closed again. Shepard stared at her reflection, shell-shocked. The paparazzi hadn’t been that voracious in years, if ever. Rabid animals had more self-control.

“Spirits,” Garrus muttered. He had his omnitool open and was grimacing at whatever he was seeing. She grabbed his wrist and turned it to see the screen, her eyes went wide as she saw the headline. ‘Love Amongst the Reapers: Find Out the True Story Between the Galaxy’s Favorite Commander and Her Favorite Turian.’ There was a picture of the two of them smiling at each other on the red carpet last night, and then the article updated with a picture of the two of them looking stunned outside her front door just one minute ago.

“Holy. Shit.”

Chapter Text

Garrus had a hard time remembering ever being in a trickier situation than being trapped in Shepard’s penthouse and besieged by reporters on all sides. He’d take a pack of husks long before he took on the press, though they shared about the same level of intelligence. It took a C-Sec escort for Garrus to be allowed out of the building, and even then they picked him up from Shepard’s balcony.

Shepard stood just inside the glass doors, watching the arrival of the car with the same distant expression she’d had since they stepped off the elevator. As Chellick opened the car door with a wide, knowing grin, Garrus glanced her way. Should he say something? Everything sounded insipid in his head. So he settled for nodding to her before stepping into the car and shutting the door behind him. He watched her turn around and go deeper into her apartment as they flew away.

And that was how the worst month of Garrus’ life began.

Since the end of the war, Garrus had been a known figure. Certain circles of people recognized his face or his name, but he was never of too much interest to the general public. Not like Shepard was. He was a piece of trivia, she was an Icon. And that was the way he preferred it. But now being joined with her, he’d been pulled into her spotlight. Random strangers now recognized him on the street. Every time he turned on the news, within twenty minutes his face would show up. He very nearly started a riot when he went into a bar for a quick drink one night. It was suffocating. 

Both out of a desire to not give the press any more ammunition and to limit the opportunities his unwilling girlfriend had to kill him in his sleep, Garrus did his level best to avoid seeing Shepard for the next few weeks. However, it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, the universe was bound and determined to put the two of them together. He ran into Shepard over and over, out grocery shopping, at coffee shops, taxi stands. The less he tried to see of her the more he saw her.

Once they both showed up at a fundraising auction dinner, separately but arriving at the same time. As soon as there was a break in the evening’s proceedings, Shepard dragged Garrus behind a few potted plants to have a whispered argument about ‘how dare he show up here, didn’t he know that she was coming, she told him weeks ago’. She had told him, and he’d forgotten. To be fair, he’d had a lot on his mind recently. And of course, pictures of them behind the plants wound up on the social page of every major news network the very next morning. Though interpretations varied wildly about precisely what they were doing back there. Garrus wasn’t sure some of the acts they were insinuating were even physically possible. Not unless Shepard had some strong exhibitionist streak that he was unaware of and was unbelievably flexible.

But somehow beating out the press for the most insistent voice in his life was Primarch Victus . Garrus saw him almost daily now, thanks to the new mentorship arrangement he’d set up. And everyday without fail, Victus would inquire as to Garrus’ bonded status. Offers of help arranging dinner plans or finding a ring were made over and over again. Worse still, Victus was so damn enthusiastic about the idea that Garrus almost felt bad for saying no every day. 

Almost.

Though as the days turned into weeks and then into a full month, Garrus could feel the excuse wearing thin. Especially when Sparatus started just ‘dropping by’ whenever Garrus was working with Victus. The conversation rarely stayed on matters of state for very long, try as Garrus might to keep things professional. He supposed it was technically a good thing that the leaders of his race were so doggedly persistent, even if this was perhaps the very worst application thereof.

Things really came to a head when one evening, instead of Sparatus, Garrus’ father showed up. He acted awfully casual for a man just dropping by the office of one of the most powerful turians in the galaxy. Then again, when had Dad ever not been completely calm and collected?

Dad gave Garrus a quick nod before turning to Victus. “Victus, do you mind if I steal my son for a few minutes?”

“Of course not. Garrus, do you have–”

“Right here.” Garrus was already holding out the datapad that he knew Victus was going to ask for. “Thessian summit notes.”

Victus smiled. “Very good. Dismissed.”

Garrus followed his father out of the office, enjoying a brief moment of anonymity out on the street. And then a group of passing asari did a double-take and the moment was gone.

“Walk with me,” Dad said, leaving no room for argument. Thankfully, he took off in the opposite direction as the now staring group. Garrus quickly fell into step with him. They were quiet for several minutes as they walked through the Presidium, but this was always Dad’s way. Get the enemy where you want them and then wait for the proper moment to strike, or even better let the person you’re interrogating start the conversation. But Garrus wasn’t going to fall for that trick. Again.

Dad didn’t say anything till they reached a secluded gathering of benches near one of the filled lakes on the Presidium. A few more extended moments of quiet followed. The view was nice, at least. 

Finally, Dad spoke. “Did you know your mother was once my commanding officer?”

Garrus looked over at him, of all the things he thought he might say that hadn’t made the list. “...No, I didn’t.”

“That’s how we met, originally. I was assigned to her unit as a gunnery officer right after she made Captain.” A half-smiled pulled at one of his mandibles. “I asked her to dinner after she saved my life the first time. She pulled me out of the way of a mercenary’s grenade. And once the battle was over, called me an asinine idiot for not watching my three. I apologized and then asked if I could take her for a drink. She said that saving my life was worth more than just a pint so we went to dinner instead the next time we were on the Citadel.” 

 Dad nodded to an empty storefront on the other side of the lake. “The cafe used to be right there, but it closed even before you were born. We decided to become bondmates there too. At the same table, even.”

Garrus stared at his father for a moment. “How have I never heard this story before?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “You never asked.”

Garrus blew out a half-amused breath. “I’m fairly certain I can make a guess as to why you’re telling me it now.”

“Perhaps,” was all the acknowledgement he got.

Garrus sighed and leaned on the railing. “I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve been telling Victus AND Sparatus. I haven’t asked yet, I don’t know when I’m going to, and the continual badgering is not going to speed up the process,” he said, letting annoyance filter into his subharmonics.

“I tried to tell Victus that, but he was insistent,” Dad said, a smile hidden in his words but not on his face.

Garrus rolled his eyes and shook his head. They stood in silence till Dad put a hand on Garrus’ shoulder.

“They asked me to talk to you, so I am. But I’ll just say this: when you do decide to ask, it doesn’t have to be a big production. I know that might be your inclination, but–something as straightforward as dinner can be very special simply because it’s the two of you.”

He squeezed the shoulder before letting go and walking a few steps away. “Oh, speaking of, Solana wants to know when you’re coming to dinner,” Dad asked, turning back around.

Garrus stood up, frowning a little. His sister was all the way on Palaven. “Dinner?”

“Yes–you’re coming to Palaven for the anniversary of the Liberation of Cipritine, aren’t you?”

“Oh. Yes. But I’m not sure what my schedule looks like yet. I’ll hold an evening free for her.”

“Good.” Dad turned around and started walking away. “She’s very excited to meet Shepard, by the way.”

Garrus’ head snapped towards his retreating father. “Shepard?”

“Yes, bring her to dinner too.”

“I-uhh-Shepard’s-she’s not…”

“As your almost mate, it’d be very strange for her to not attend at least the ball. Might as well come and make a trip of it. See you then.”

Garrus sputtered half-words as his father disappeared into the crowd. 

Well… Crap.

Chapter Text

Shepard’s omnitool started pinging loudly. Her eyes snapped open, gasping heavily as she was roused from a dead sleep. She looked around her dark bedroom for a moment before realizing the noise was coming from her wrist. She accepted the call clumsily, letting her arm fall back over her face.

“Hello?” she mumbled, groggily.

Uproarious laughter came through the tinny speaker. The person on the other end was very nearly screaming with uncontrollable joy. Shepard blinked a few times till she realized she recognized the voice of the laugher.

Shepard sighed. “Jack.”

“Holy fuck, you dumb pieces of shit, ” Jack crowed in between fits of laughter. “I FUCKING knew it! Ohhh, Miranda owes me so much money!!”

Jack went back to cackling as Shepard groaned. Did all of her friends have bets on her love life??

“Jack, it’s three in the morning, is there a reason for this call?”

Perhaps she was laughing so loud that she didn’t hear Shepard, but Jack didn’t reply. Shepard let her go on howling for another minute before hanging up and trying to go back to sleep. However, she had a sinking feeling that the phone call was only the beginning.

And she was exactly right.

The press were in rare form. Granted she’d been dealing with them in some fashion ever since she made Spectre so many years ago. But they’d really managed to outdo themselves this time. Everywhere she went they followed her; even if she couldn’t directly see them, inevitably a picture of her leaving a store would show up on the extranet in a matter of minutes. A permanent camp was set up outside her apartment. No matter how many times C-Sec was called to scatter the vultures they always returned. Shepard considered moving, but settled for never spending time in her apartment anymore and sleeping at one of Liara’s apartments in Zakera Ward to avoid the crowds.

The press, however, was not the most frustrating part of her month. It was her friends. Liara seemed to have gained a permanent ‘I told you so’ expression. Tali must have put her previous invitation together with the news and was rather smug in her vidcall, though Shepard copped to nothing. Wrex at one point sent Shepard a message that ‘if she didn’t want to date humans, he could certainly find her a strong Urdnot warrior so she didn’t have to settle for a turian’. EDI wanted to set up a double-date with her and Joker for the next time they were on the Citadel, which Shepard only very narrowly avoided having to agree to.

Meanwhile, Kasumi was making a small fortune selling photoshopped images of Shepard and Garrus during the Reaper War.

“Even if such a picture existed, there’d be no way you could have it–you weren’t even on the ship!” Shepard insisted in a call to Kasumi after discovering one such image on a news site. In the picture, Garrus was fervently pressing his brow to Shepard’s in the middle of a battlefield littered with fallen reaper troops. Shepard was pissed about the picture… but she’d also saved it to her omnitool.

“The public doesn’t care, Shep,” Kasumi replied casually. Shepard could hear the shrug in her voice. “Now, if you could get me a picture of you tilting your head to the side, there’s a media outlet on Thessia that wants a shot of you with your head on Garrus’ shoulder. They’ve offered me fifty grand for that picture alone.”

“What, are you offering me a cut of the profits?” Shepard sighed, deadpan.

“Actually, I was hoping you’d do it pro bono. You know, for old times’ sake.”

Shepard hung up in a huff.

The worst were the people who were genuinely happy for her and Garrus. She didn’t know what to say to Cortez, Traynor, or Samara, who all sent very sincere notes of congratulations. She guiltily sent quick replies to all of them, feeling it was better than nothing. If there was one good side to this whole debacle, it was hearing from her whole team again. She hadn’t heard as much from them in years as she did in the month following the party. It felt like old times in the best way.

On the whole, however, the month was aggravating and demanding, but all too par for the course of her post-war life. Since he’d been making himself scarce, Shepard had no clue how Garrus was handling his sudden notoriety. Probably not well, if she knew him. And she did. So really she wasn’t that surprised when he finally deigned to grace her with his presence.

Shepard was double checking the recipe she was going to cook for dinner on her omnitool, fishing the needed spices from the cabinet, when she heard the elevator doors ding and open. Very few people had the key code to her front door, and most of them weren’t on the station at the moment. Which meant that there could only be one turian standing in her front hall, probably gathering his courage to show his face. A minute later, a very hesitant Garrus peaked his head around the corner, mandibles spreading slightly in a very worried smile.

“Hey,” he said, easing his way into the room.

“Well, if it isn’t the love of my life,” Shepard said dryly, grabbing the paprika and tumeric and setting them on the island. “How was your day, sweetie ?”

He froze for a moment and then nodded a few times. “Yeah, I deserve that.”

She raised one eyebrow and hummed in agreement. “And then some.”

“Yes. That too. I… I brought a peace offering.” He ducked back into the entry hall and returned with a bag bearing the logo of her favorite restaurant on the Citadel, Lalibela. It was very inconvenient to get to and had very strange hours and only made levo Ethiopian food, but it was absolutely delicious. And a far better meal than she could make for dinner.

Moderately mollified, she jerked her chin to his usual chair on the other side of the island from her. He sat down and pushed the bag towards her as she put away the few ingredients she’d already pulled out. She didn’t even have to open the containers in the bag to smell that he’d gotten her favorite meal. He knew her pretty well too.

“I also wanted to apologize,” Garrus started once she’d opened the injera container. “This has… been a rough month for me, can’t imagine it’s been much better for you. If anything, it’s probably been worse because this wasn’t your fault. And so I’m sorry. This has become so much more than what I originally asked of you.”

She laughed once, humorlessly. She could let him off the hook right now, but frankly she had some things she wanted to get off her chest first. So she fixed him with a very flat look. “Do you know how many times in the last month I’ve been asked about our sex life?”

He blinked once, twice. “I’m scared to guess.”

“Fourteen. Times.”

He dropped his head in his hand. “Spirits–”

“Vega asked me what your dick looks like,” she added, matter-of-factly.

His head shot back up. “...What did you tell him?”

She let him squirm for a few moments as she chewed thoughtfully before answering. “I told him I’d show him a picture if he was so curious, and he ran away.”

“Right,” he said, staring wide-eyed at the countertop. “I’m… Spirits, Shepard. Sorry hardly covers it.”

She sighed and wiped her hands off on a napkin. “You want to know what the worst part of this month was?”

“It wasn’t Jimmy Vega asking about my genitals?”

“No… although that was pretty bad.” She shook her head. “It was that you ditched me as soon as the going got rough. Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you immediately walked out of any shop or store you saw me in?” It’d been hard not to take it personally after it happened three times in a row.

He sighed, looking suitably distraught. “I figured you wouldn’t want to see me.”

“You’re my best friend, Garrus,” she reminded him forcefully. “This month has been hell, but it doesn’t change that.”

He dropped his head back into his hand, and she let him think while she had another bite of the meal he’d brought her. She wasn’t angry or really even hurt; confused mostly and perhaps a little annoyed. Though now she could see where he could get the idea that she wouldn’t want him around, even if it was a stupid idea.

“You’re right,” he said after a minute, lifting his head again. “I didn’t mean to… ditch you, but I did. And I’m sorry for that too. I promise not to abandon you again.”

She looked at him for a moment, then offered a small smile. “Apology accepted.” She took another bite as they sat in quiet for a moment. “I missed you,” she then said simply.

One of his mandibles pulled up in a warm half-smile. “Yeah, I missed you too. Even if I did see your–well, our faces every time I turned on the news.”

She chuckled quietly. “Did you see the pictures from the Reaper War?”

He nodded slowly. “I did, but I don’t ever remember you ever sleeping on my shoulder during the war. I want to know where the hell they’re coming from.”

 “Kasumi.”

“Of course they are. I should have known.”

They both laughed. Until she heard it, Shepard hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that sound. By the look on his face, she’d guess that Garrus agreed with her. However, the warm regard in his eyes disappeared after a moment, replaced with something far more serious.

“What is it?” she asked.

He shook his head, avoiding her gaze now. “Ah, nothing.”

“That wasn’t a nothing face.”

“Do you ever think that perhaps we know each other too well?” he asked, obviously trying to distract her.

“No. Now answer the question.”

Now he was making his ‘I have to tell you something and I really don’t want to’ face, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. She let him think for a few seconds so he could get his ducks in a row while she opened the doro wat and dipped a pinky in to sneak a taste.

“I, uh…” He blew out a breath, just like he would before firing a shot. “I need your help. Again.”

She glanced up from the meal. “What, do you need me to be your fake girlfriend again or something?”

His response was just a very long stare.

No. No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare .

She stepped back, her shoulders and jaw both dropping. “Oh. My God , Garrus. Are you serious right now? You want to throw more fuel on this fire!?”

“I don’t want to, but I have to–the Liberation of Cipritine ball is coming up and I have to attend. As future primarch, I have to be there.” He hesitated. “And as my… girlfriend… it’d be strange if you weren’t with me. In fact it’d probably raise more than a few suspicions.”

Now she was the one to drop her head into her hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Vakarian,” she groused.

“I’ve thought it all through,” he said quickly, laying out the plan as fast as he could. “I’ll fly you in the afternoon of the ball and fly you back out from Palaven immediately after. You’ll only be gone two days from the Citadel.”

She glared up at him. Her schedule was not the reason she was unhappy with this plan.

“And it’ll be a private ship,” he added.

She kept glaring.

“And I’ll buy your dress.”

She stayed glaring.

“And I won’t tell anyone about that time on Feros… or Illium or Omega.”

She huffed a breath at him. “And what about the press, hm? Have you thought that one through?”

“The ball is on Palaven, the press is different there than here. Honestly, we’ll get less coverage from this than we do going grocery shopping here on the Citadel.”

Alright, so perhaps he had thought that one through. Still. Still . She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, turning away and leaning back against the counter. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Dear lord, how was this what her life had turned into?

She heard Garrus stand to walk around the island, and then his hand was on her shoulder. After a few seconds, she looked up at him, meeting his very sincerely regretful yet pleading expression.

“Please, Jane,” he said softly.

And that did it. Because in the end it wasn’t about the stories or the flights. It was simply that Garrus needed help. And so she’d help him. Because he was her best friend and she loved him.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she muttered. “But fine. Yes.”

She could feel his relieved subvocals surge through his hand and then immediately he grabbed her in a rare hug. She sighed and hugged him back.

“It better be a nice dress,” she said into his shoulder.

His mandible flicked against her neck in a smile. “It will be. I promise.”

Chapter Text

The night of the ball, Garrus picked Shepard up from the Cipritine spaceport. Luckily, the timing of her flights worked out that she didn’t arrive till after sunset, so they didn’t have to bother getting her an environmental suit. And even more lucky for him, she seemed to be in good spirits as they drove to his apartment to get ready for the ball. A process which only took him about ten minutes and Shepard over an hour.

He hadn’t spent much time at all in this apartment in Cipritine since he’d purchased it during a trip to Palaven a few years ago. Not that he didn’t enjoy being on his home planet, but he far preferred the Citadel these days. He couldn’t remember ever liking it as much as he did before the war. Though if he was going to be Primarch of this planet someday, he’d probably spend a great deal of time here eventually. 

As he waited for Shepard to finish he found himself staring out the glass doors attached to the small balcony. The building was tall enough to have a view of the next few streets. For a moment he was daunted by how many lights and by extension how many lives he was looking at in just his neighborhood. How many more would he one day represent?

“Hey Gare, could I get your help?” Shepard’s voice from behind him cut into his reverie.

“Yeah, what do y–” He stopped halfway through his sentence as he turned to face Shepard. While he had technically purchased the dress she was wearing, she had picked it out without him and only sent him the bill. And now that he was seeing it and her in it… When had his subvocals started making this rumbling noise?

“What?” Shepard asked, her brows dropping into a worried expression.

“Blue,” he finally managed inelegantly. The dress was a deep rich blue. Cipritine blue. ... His blue.

She looked down at the dress and became more worried. “Liara said colony colors were traditional at turian formal events.”

Crap, pull it together, Vakarian. “They are. It’s…” An excellent color on you , his brain added unhelpfully. “What did you need help with?”

She pulled her hair that she had loosely braided over her shoulder and turned around. “Can you finish zipping me?”

Garrus swallowed, making sure to keep his subharmonics in respectful octaves, and stepped towards her. The sleeves of the dress wrapped around her upper arms and left her shoulders bare, exposing her collarbones elegantly. As he stood behind her, he couldn’t help but notice the dusting of freckles across the tops of her shoulders and down her back, dark stars in a pale night sky. The zipper down the middle of the dress was only half zipped. He grabbed the small tab and pulled it up, his knuckles running against the slick, slightly shiny fabric of the dress.

He cleared his throat. “And… what’s this fabric called?” he asked, stepping back.

“Satin,” she replied, turning to face him.

“Not girlfriend material?”

She smiled and chuckled a little. “Only for this evening.” Spirits, was she always this beautiful and he just didn’t notice till she was in a ballgown?

She gestured to his outfit. “Is that new?” she asked.

He ran a self-conscious hand across the front of the jacket. “Ah, yes.”

She nodded, looking him up and down for a moment. “It’s classy. You look very handsome.”

His subvocals immediately bloomed again, warm and appreciative and more than a little bit flattered. Pull it together , she’s your best friend, not your date. He cleared his throat again to quiet them some before offering her his hand.

“Shall we?” he asked. She took it, intuitively threading their fingers. Even just the very simple action made his subvocals surge again. What was the matter with them right now?

“We shall.”

He kept hold of her hand as they walked down the short hall to the elevator, their hands swinging casually between them.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve told you the big news yet,” Shepard said as they got in the elevator. He selected the garage level and looked back at her. “The Alliance is getting ready to re-found our first colony outside of Sol.”

His browplates lifted in surprise. “Really? That’s fantastic.”

She nodded, smiling. “It is, it’s a big step. Earth’s really getting back on her feet again.”

Earth had lost most of their colonies during the war, more than any other council race had. To refound one, it was a true sign that the galaxy was finally firmly on the path to normal.

“Which colony?” Garrus asked as they left the elevator and walked over to his car.

“Elysium,” Shepard replied. 

He helped her into the car, making sure her skirt wouldn’t get caught in the door. “That’s where you fought the Skyllian Blitz, yeah?”

She nodded. “So they want me there–smiling for the cameras, cutting ribbons, the usual.”

“Sounds like fun,” he replied, half-sarcastically. He got in the driver’s seat and programmed the address in. “When is it going to happen?”

“Armistice Day.”

“Fitting,” he said as the car took off to fly across the capital city.

“I thought so too.”

Given that the annual celebration of Cipritine’s liberation from the reapers was relatively new, it’d been held in a different location throughout the city every year. This year was at an estate on the edges of the city. The expansive grounds behind the house had been turned into a very large open-air ballroom. Most of the upper ranks of the Hierarchy were in attendance, all dressed in their finest. Though Shepard beat them all by far in Garrus’ mind.

He’d been to this exact gathering every year since it started, and he always remembered it being a very grating evening. But as Shepard and he mingled and sipped champagne, he found himself having a great time. There was a lot of fun to be had in the silent looks they kept swapping while speaking with particularly aggravating politicians. Maybe he should bring her again next year, fake girlfriend or not.

He even managed to convince Shepard to take a turn out on the dance floor with him, though she was mildly threatening him through the opening steps. But she relaxed as she realized how simple of a dance he’d led her into. Garrus was very aware of how many people were watching them so he held her closer than he would otherwise, his palm running across the smooth satin at her waist. He wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed how green her eyes were before; they were absolutely captivating, like everything else about her. He’d thought that he knew her as well as anyone could possibly after knowing her for so long, but here he was, still discovering new things after nearly ten years. He’d probably be learning new things about her for the rest of his life, if he was lucky enough.

Overall, Garrus thought the evening was going as well as it possibly could have gone. Of course, it was when Shepard had momentarily abandoned Garrus after their dance that the other shoe dropped.

“Garrus,” Victus said warmly with a large smile. Garrus started, the Primarch had suddenly appeared practically out of thin air next to him at the edge of the dance floor.

“Primarch,” Garrus replied formally with a nod.

“I’m glad you’re here. And it’s nice to see Shepard here as well.” He pointedly looked in the direction she had just headed. “She wears Cipritine blue very well, don’t you think?”

Garrus bit back the beleaguered sigh he wanted to give. “Yes, she does,” he replied simply, mostly because he’d already thought as much himself several times so far this evening.

“Have you asked her to be your mate yet?” Victus asked bluntly.

Garrus blinked. All of the pestering had been ‘subtle’ so far, hints and offers of help. Apparently Victus was trying a new strategy now, and it was just brazen enough to throw Garrus off his stride.

“Ah–”

“Because it’s been over a month, Garrus. A year and a month.”

“I know–”

“And as Sparatus said, there are eight trillion people in line behind you. You don’t want to lose a woman like Shepard, now do you?”

“Well, no–”

“Humans appreciate commitment, Garrus. If you keep dragging your feet, she might find a more willing partner.”

“What–”

“Weren’t there rumors once about her and Spectre Alenko? I believe he’s considered handsome by human standards. Or that Dr. T’Soni is very lovely too.”

“Kaidan and Liara are just friends–”

“You were once just her friend too. Relationships change, Garrus, not always to your benefit.”

“I–”

“Are you afraid that she’ll say no? Is that why you haven’t asked yet?”

“Ah–”

“Because there’s no reason why she would. You’re a good looking young man, talented, loyal, have a bright future ahead of you, and an impressive service record.”

“But–”

“And Shepard’s obviously in love with you. It’s as plain as the markings on your face. She looks at you like my beloved mate used to look at me, may her spirit be peaceful.”

“Um–”

“You know there’s a lovely fountain behind the rose garden that would be an excellent location for you to ask her tonight. Beautiful, secluded. Romantic, as the humans would say.”

“But I–”

“But you what, Garrus?”

Garrus’ mandibles fluttered, now stunned to be suddenly invited back into the conversation after having been pushed all over the floor metaphorically speaking. “I don’t need the fountain,” he heard himself say.

“Why not?”

Garrus froze. Why not? Why not, Garrus? Hmm?? Why don’t you need the fountain, Garrus? Think Faster, Garrus! Your future life hangs in the balance, Garrus! Say something! Sentences, phrases, words–anything! 

“Because I already asked her.”

WHAT WAS THAT???? Absolute delight blossomed across Victus’ face as absolute horror descended on his own.

“Well done, Garrus.” Victus clapped him on the shoulder, shaking it in joy. “Excellent, congratulations!”

Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. He had to fix this… somehow. What would Shepard do? Not have backed herself into this corner to even begin with–not helpful. Be decisive, instinctive, confident. Protect the innocent. And find a victory she could live with, even if it wasn’t the absolute best outcome.

“Thank you,” Garrus said, letting himself smile a little. “We’re truly very happy.”

“Of course you are! Have you announced it yet?”

He shook his head. “No, not yet. You’re one of the first. With the press being such trouble recently, we’ve kept it quiet. No use throwing fuel on the fire.”

“Wise–”

“And we’re still deciding details, human weddings are rather complicated and take a while to plan. ...A long while. But when decisions have been made, you’ll be among the first to know.”

“Of course, of course. How’d you ask her?”

“Ah…” If he was going to ask Shepard to be his mate, how would he do it? Surprisingly, an answer quickly jumped to mind. “At Armax, actually. Booked a private arena so it was just the two of us and had some fun reliving old times. And after all the virtual reapers were dead, I asked her.” 

“Nicely done.” Victus hummed happily–well, more like overjoyed. “Well, congratulations again. May you and Shepard be very happy together.”

Victus patted his shoulder again and then stepped away. Garrus looked after him, feeling lighter than he had in a month. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. It wasn’t a perfect solution, admittedly. But it bought time, a lot of time amazingly, and relatively maintained the status quo. Undoubtedly, a victory he could live with, just like Shepard had– Oh Spirits. 

Shepard .

He turned around, looking around wildly for his wayward soon-to-be-mate. He spotted her on the far side of the dance floor and–crap, crap, crap–Victus was heading straight for her. Garrus tried to dart through the crowd, but immediately the Minister of Finance grabbed him into a discussion that he definitely wasn’t in the right headspace to pay attention to. Garrus attempted to nod, hum approvingly in the appropriate places, but all the time he was watching the conversation with Shepard and Victus.

This could be very, very bad.

Chapter Text

For a formal turian gathering it was actually a fairly festive atmosphere, Shepard thought as she walked with Garrus down the steps at the back of the house into the open-air ballroom. Colored lanterns were strung across the whole space, and the live orchestra was playing a lively waltz. Formal, but high-spirited.

Of course being who she was, and now combined with Garrus’ own rank within the Hierarchy, there was no end to the number of people that wanted to speak with them. Shepard was happy, however, to play the supportive girlfriend and listen politely, grateful for once that she didn’t have to solve some of the problems they were discussing. Though she’d take working on a housing crisis over making speeches for the Alliance any day of the week.

Still it was a pleasant evening to stand with Garrus and make eye contact every time someone was being obnoxious in that oily politician way. She was having a lot of fun, till Garrus took her hand and started obviously heading for the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, dragging her feet to slow his progress. It was not very effective.

“One dance, please, Shepard.”

“You know I can’t dance,” she insisted in a hushed tone as he stopped on the edge of the dance floor. He slid his hand back around her waist and pulled her close, as her abdomen tensed with the gentle contact.

“Believe me, I know. So don’t dance. Just follow my lead.”

She glowered at him as he led her into the opening steps. “You’re going to pay for this someday. Just give me time, I’ll find a way.”

He chuckled and pulled her closer still. “Promises, promises.”

After they made a full turn around the dance floor, she relaxed a little. This wasn’t so bad, really. Much better than club dancing. Garrus and she had always had a good rhythm together, though it’d really only been seen on the battlefield. By the time the song was halfway done, she had to admit that their shared rhythm translated pretty damn well to this application too.

She smiled as she looked up at him, letting the rest of the party dim away till it was just Garrus in her view. He was doing that thing with his face again. That thing where he looked at her with such warm adoration she could almost pretend this was real. As risky an idea it was for them to put on this act for a second time, there’d been things she’d already missed when they stepped back to just friendship. This expression was definitely one of them. His hand on her waist, his voice in her ear–oh, she was an idiot .

The dance ended and Shepard remembered who she was, where she was, what she was supposed to be doing. She dropped Garrus’ hands, clapping politely with everyone else as she recouped her senses. Looking at him, her heart lurched again–not good. 

She touched his arm momentarily. “I’ll be right back, going to… get some air,” she quickly excused herself. Never mind the fact they were already outside.

She made a beeline away from the dance floor, away from Garrus. She just needed a minute or two to clear her head before she did or said something stupid. She wound up cutting a path past a rose garden, stopping to catch her breath by a rather beautiful fountain. The reflections of the lights in the water danced on to the stone path surrounding it. Of course she found the most romantic spot on all of Palaven to take a breather.

Garrus isn’t interested in humans, she reminded herself. She should be grateful that he’s as good a friend as he is. There’s no sense becoming disappointed over something that will never be and was never hers to begin with. And really, she had no right to complain. She had a good life, good friends, she should be happy . So… do it.

If only emotions took orders as well as soldiers.

She focused on pulling herself back into a state of controlled equilibrium before leaving the fountain and heading back to the party. She meandered through the crowd, taking her sweet time before she returned to Garrus. Coming to the edge of the dance floor, she spotted him on the opposite side. He looked… rather proud of himself, she thought. Though she couldn’t be certain from so far away.

“Shepard,” Victus said in a warm tone. She turned to see him walking up to her with a very happy expression on his face. “So glad you could come.”

“Of course, Primarch,” Shepard replied with a smile. “Garrus and I are both very happy to be here.”

“Yes, and speaking of Garrus…” He stepped a little closer, standing next to her as if to survey the dancers together. “He told me the exciting news,” Victus said in a quiet, conspiratorial tone. “And I wanted to offer my congratulations.”

Shepard smiled, how thoughtful of him to celebrate with the Alliance instead of begrudge the advancement. Victus continually impressed her with his commitment to maintaining inter-species alliances. Too often the lessons of war were quickly forgotten, but he seemed bound and determined to keep the peace. A true testament of how far both their species had come since the days of the First Contact War. 

“Thank you. We are very proud.” The Alliance was bursting at the seams at finally getting the colonial ball rolling again, which she could certainly understand.

“As you should be. It’s an exciting time.” He looked a little thoughtful. “I have to admit, I am a little envious of your happiness.”

“Well, I’m sure the opportunity will come your way again at some point.”

He laughed. “Thank you, but I feel I’m a bit too old for that now.”

“Ridiculous,” Shepard dismissed the claim with a wave of her hand. Victus probably had several decades left in his tenure as Primarch, plenty of time to finish rebuilding Palaven and then start on new colonies.

“You’re very kind. Ah, Garrus neglected to mention, have you chosen a day yet?”

“Yes, Armistice Day.”

He frowned a little. “Armistice Day–a year from now?”

She shook her head. “No, eight weeks from now.”

His mandibles twitched in surprise. “That soon? I thought these things took time.”

“They do, and I suppose it is soon, but we just felt that it was appropriate given how much that day means to everyone. And really, what other day could compare?”

Victus nodded slowly. “You are so right. It is a perfect day. Do you mind if I make an announcement about this exciting development?”

“No, please, by all means…”

“Congratulations again, Shepard. Garrus is truly a lucky man.” With that he walked away, leaving Shepard staring after him, more than a little mystified. What on earth did that mean?

She was stopped from further contemplation when Garrus suddenly joined her.

“Hey-hey! What did Victus want?” he asked, sounding harried.

“He was… congratulating me on the new colony, I… thought.” She looked over at Garrus, he was really bothered about something. “Everything alright?” she asked, immediately suspicious.

“Yeah, no, just–can we go talk–”

Garrus was interrupted when the orchestra let out an attention grabbing fanfare. 

“Hold that thought, Garrus,” she replied, turning away from him. Conversations quickly died down as all eyes in the room turned toward Victus, standing tall and proud at the front of the room.

“This is a momentous day for our people. The Reclamation of Cipritine was the truest sign to all of us that the war was finally over for Palaven. Steadily, we are rebuilding our great city, planet, people to new heights and a brighter future.” Celebratory applause rang through the crowd.

“Shepard, we need to talk,” Garrus hissed, leaning down close to her ear. “I did–”

“Hold on, I want to hear Victus’ announcement.”

“And today, we now have the extra assurance that our bright future will be in strong hands,” Victus continued, his voice ringing through the space. “For indeed, in only eight short weeks we will all have a reason to celebrate again.” He smiled broadly and lifted his glass. “So I would like everyone to raise a glass with me as we honor Advisor Garrus Vakarian and Admiral Jane Shepard and their upcoming bonding. May the Spirits bless your union. To the future!”

Shepard blinked as the entire party turned in their direction, echoing Victus’ toast.

w h a t ?

Chapter Text

Garrus had had several close brushes with death in his lifetime. Obviously there was the rocket to the face back on Omega, and there were a few close calls during the Reaper War where a banshee or a brute got too close. But this moment right here made those look like child’s play. In fact as the words ‘upcoming bonding’ were leaving Victus’ mouth, Garrus suddenly found himself oddly nostalgic for that rocket to the face. It’d come in handy right about now.

“To the future,” the crowd around them repeated, lifting glasses their direction. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion and Garrus was able to catalogue every discrete emotion that washed over Shepard’s face in a matter of seconds–surprise, shock, realization, horror, fury, and then Nothing.

They were on display for the entire ballroom, just standing side by side, but Garrus felt that touching Shepard in this moment would only result in losing that appendage. He watched her nod a little stiffly to Victus across the room. She pulled a demure smile out of thin air, smoothing it across the bottom half of her face. A masterful mask if ever Garrus saw one. Though he knew her well enough to see behind it.

She then glanced his way. The deadly calm look she fixed him with made him stop wishing for the rocket and start hoping for Sovereign itself to rise from the grave and burst through the wall at that very moment. An army of resurrected reaper troops would be far preferable to what he knew he was going to endure the moment that Shepard got him alone.

But they had to play along with what everyone expected of them, shake hands and smile, accept congratulations and well wishes, be the happy apparently-soon-to-be-bonded couple. It was over two hours later before they could make a polite exit. Every minute the eventual explosion was delayed just rachetted up the tension, like putting a flash grenade into a pressure cooker. 

As they left the party, he dared to offer Shepard his arm, which she took without pulling it off, thankfully. They stood in placid silence as the valet brought their car around. Garrus helped Shepard into the car and then walked the seven paces around to the other side, savoring his last few moments on this mortal plane. The weather was very pleasant for this time of year, stars were twinkling overhead, and the food had been good at the party. There were worse evenings to have as one’s last. All too soon, however, he arrived at the other door. He got into the car, programming it to take them to the spaceport. And Garrus braced for the end.

What he got instead was several long minutes of frigid silence. When he dared a glance in her direction, Shepard was completely still and staring straight ahead. Her spine was rigid, her face expressionless. He faced forward and didn’t dare glance her way again. When did it get so cold in this car? Finally, after ten minutes of deafening nothing, the ice cracked.

“I’m guessing you have an explanation,” she said simply. Her voice was stoic, professional. He knew that tone. That was the tone she used when dealing with troublesome politicians or wayward diplomats, people she had to talk to and play nice with but would definitely rather be anywhere than with them. Oh, this was a million times worse than the ranting and yelling he’d imagined. Somehow the car got even colder.

“I am… so sorry,” he said, sincerely.

She didn’t look at him. “That’s not an explanation.”

“I…” He’d better start at the beginning, lead her through the path of his failings, show her everything he’d kept from her. “Victus and the rest were happy that we were dating because they assumed that we’d become bondmates… because we’ve been friends for so long and now apparently dating for a year. They wanted to know when that was going to happen and at the time of the first dinner, I told them that I just hadn’t asked you yet.

“But as the weeks passed, they stopped buying my excuse, and then this party happened and so… so I told Victus that I had asked you, but that we were keeping it quiet while we planned the wedding. I don’t know why he decided to make an announcement or where he got eight weeks from.”

She took in a slow breath. “From me.” Garrus glanced at Shepard, her brow was furrowed and her spine still straight. “He told me that you’d told him the big news, and I assumed he was talking about Elysium.”

It clicked in his mind. “Armistice Day…”

“Yes.”

“Spirits.” He rubbed a hand over his neck and watched Cipritine fly past the window for a few seconds. This was certainly a very fine mess he’d found himself in and dragged her into as well. “I really am sorry about all this. The press is going to have a field day with the news.”

“I don’t–” She sighed and shook her head, looking down at her lap. “Honestly, I don’t care about that. We’ll figure it out, just like we always do.” Finally, she looked over at him, reproach in her gaze. “What I care about is that you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, subvocals thinned with shame. 

“We don’t lie to each other, Garrus.” It was the hurt in her voice that left him breathless, a knife slid under his carapace, between his ribs.

“I know. I… I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I could figure out a solution in time and you’d never have to be bothered with this.” He shook his head, remembering a very similar conversation they’d had in her kitchen not too long ago. “I told you that I wouldn’t abandon you again as I was doing exactly that.”

She gave him a half-smile though her eyes still looked sad. “I know you meant well… just… it feels like you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” She took his hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing it tightly. 

That knife between his ribs twisted and he leaned towards her, cupping the side of her face with his other hand. “I do. I promise. I trust you more than anyone else in this entire galaxy. Even if my actions this last month have been very much to the contrary.”

She nodded slightly and covered his hand with her own. “I know. You too.”

He breathed a little easier at that. “I am so sorry that I got you tangled up in all of this.”

She nodded and sighed. “So what’s the plan then?” she asked, looking at him with her trademark commander expression. It was difficult to look at that face and not believe that the impossible could be possible. The war had been won through the hardened steel of willpower in her eyes. “How do we fix this?” 

“I have absolutely no clue,” he admitted finally. She laughed softly as he grinned. “Seriously, I’ve been trying to find a solution since day one and all I have to show for it is our current mess.” 

She nodded and sat back, though strangely he felt oddly regretful about the new distance between them. The car landed outside the spaceport then; sounds of announcements and traffic filtered in through the still closed doors of the car. He watched her look towards the terminals, the curve of her cheek highlighted by passing headlights. 

“Maybe… maybe we should stay the course for now,” she suggested, turning back to look at him. “Even if we fell into this accidentally, I still think it’s better than the alternative.”

“Eight weeks isn’t a very long time,” he hedged, even if he agreed with her.

“No, it’s not. But… I believe in us. I think we could find a solution if we put our heads together.”

“Yeah. We will.” If there was anyone in this galaxy that he trusted to work tirelessly for a solution, it was Shepard. And he would be right there with her, just like old times. 

She gave him a reassuring smile and got out of the car. Only when she let go did he realize that he had been holding her hand the entire time and now his palm felt oddly empty without her. He flexed his hand a few times as he got out and helped her with her bags. 

Though they looked a little strange, being the only couple at the terminal entrance in formal wear, Garrus had hoped that they could just disappear into the anonymous crush of the crowd. But he was proven wrong as he put Shepard’s bag in front of her and a group of teenagers passed by. He heard the distinctive hiss of ‘Spirits, that’s Commander Shepard and Advisor Vakarian’. By Shepard’s rueful smile, he guessed she heard it too.

“Maybe I should dye my hair,” she mused, pulling up the handle on her bag.

He frowned. “I–” He coughed, clearing his subvocals which had turned strangely appreciative. “I like the red,” he muttered, his neck heating up a little.

Her smile turned genuine and she looked away. “I’ll see you back home, right?”

“Definitely. I fly out day after tomorrow. Want to get breakfast when I’m back?”

“Sounds good. We can brainstorm then.” She hesitated. “Are those kids still watching?” She tilted her head in the direction they’d gone. He glanced over her head. The group had stopped not twenty meters away to gawk at them and whisper amongst themselves. A couple were even taking pictures. 

“Yes,” Garrus sighed.

Shepard stepped towards him and leaned up on her toes. Based on some instinct he didn’t even know he had, he leaned down towards her. She pressed a gentle kiss to his mandible, fingers brushing his other cheek. 

“See you soon,” she said softly, her eyes gentle and warm. His heart was lodged in his throat so he just nodded. He stared after her as she walked into the terminal, still dressed in his colony colors. Oh… wow .

His stare was interrupted by a particularly shrill giggle from the group not too far off. What was he doing? More importantly, why? He shook it off and got in the car, leaving everything unusual or bewildering back on the curb. Even still, he couldn’t remember ever before being so eager to return to the Citadel.

Chapter Text

The news of the engagement that Victus had announced to the Hierarchy, and by extension the entire galaxy, spread like wildfire . The press did have the expected field day, turning what was just daily reporting of Shepard’s activities to round the clock coverage. Infuriating though it was, it did make it easy if she was ever wondering what Garrus was up to at the moment. All she had to do was turn on the news and within a few minutes, she’d know if he was free for dinner or not.

Not that she really went many places these days, even without the entire press stalking her every move. She never had a very full schedule–an ongoing blessing and frustration in itself. So she just holed up in her apartment, attempting to wait out the storm outside her front door. The press had to move on to more interesting topics soon, right?

About a week after the announcement, she was in her kitchen, cleaning the already sparkling new Mantis when the elevator doors opened with a quiet ding. Garrus had said that he’d be busy with Hierarchy business all day, so who was– Shepard looked up to see Tali, surprisingly, marching around the corner with an equally irate looking Liara in tow.

“You’re getting MARRIED?????? ” Liara demanded, holding up her omnitool that was currently displaying the front page of Westerlund News. ‘Wedding Bells for Commander Shepard & Future Turian Primarch’ the headline read in all caps. Crap. 

“Hi Liara,” Shepard said in a forced conversational tone. “Tali, nice to see you again.”

Tali pointed an accusatory finger. “DON’T YOU ‘NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN’ ME!” 

As if Tali hadn’t said anything, Shepard continued calmly, “How long are you visiting for?”

“You can’t pretend with us, Shepard,” Tali continued, waving a hand between her and Liara. “We know you. Both of you. So explain this. Now .” On vidcalls from Rannoch, Tali usually didn’t have her envirosuit on anymore. But Shepard found herself oddly grateful that her face was masked. She was much less intimidating when her expressions were muffled.

“There’s… not much to explain. Garrus and I are getting married.” Apparently , Shepard added internally. “Simple as that.”

“ No, it’s not as simple as that. And no , you’re not getting married,” Tali retorted. 

“ Yes, we are.”

“ No , you’re–”

“Tali,” Liara cut back in, giving her a look that obviously meant they’d somehow been dragged off track. Then she turned to look at Shepard, reproach written all over her face. “What do you think you are doing, Shepard?”

“I’m cleaning this Mantis,” she answered, despite knowing that all it would do is piss off Liara even more. Which it did. Liara just huffed a quick breath and crossed her arms, waiting for an actual explanation. 

“I’m… helping a friend–” Shepard amended.

“No, you’re not,” Tali scoffed. “You’re play-acting being with Garrus because you’re too scared to actually ask him for real.”

Shepard gaped at her for a moment, outraged… mostly at being thoroughly called out. “I–” she tried to justify, but quickly discovered that she had none. “I’m… helping Garrus by marrying him.” She automatically winced. Ooh, that sounded bad even to her own ears.

“You heard how that sounded, yes?” Liara asked, crossing her arms.

Shepard pursed her lips but did not reply. Yeah, she heard it. But it didn’t change anything. She was sticking with this plan until she had a better one. And that’s all there was to it.

Tali sighed. “You’re not going to give this up, are you?” 

Shepard straightened her spine, letting her patented steel will harden her posture. “No. I’m not.” If the reapers hadn’t gotten her to budge an inch, her friends certainly couldn’t.

“Fine,” Tali muttered, digging into her bag for a second and then slapping a handful of credits into Liara’s waiting palm. “You were right.”

“Of course I was.”

Shepard held up her hands. “Do all of my friends take bets about my personal life??”

“We’re sorry, Shepard,” Tali said unexpectedly, turning back to face her now with a contrite expression. Shepard’s suspicions immediately shot up through the roof. Her friends were just as stubborn as she was, she wasn’t expecting the two of them to give this up without a fight.

“If you really mean to go through with this, then we’ll support you,” Liara added.

“Because that’s what friends do,” Tali finished.

Shepard looked back and forth between the two of them for a solid minute, waiting for them to crack or laugh or something. But… they seemed sincere. So she relaxed, marginally.

“Thanks,” she finally said. 

“Since I’m here on the Citadel for a few days, do you want to go get lunch now? Catch up?” Tali asked, her usual bubbly tone coming through. “I can tell you all about my new house!”

“I can have a car pick us up from the balcony, steal you for a few hours away from the press,” Liara chimed in.

Still very suspicious at their sudden about-face, Shepard looked between them one last time then nodded. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

Sitting back and letting Liara choose the restaurant, Shepard very quickly found her mood turning around. She loved her entire squad of course, but there’d always been a special bond with Liara and Tali. Perhaps it was because they’d been around since the beginning. But every time they got together it felt like no time at all had passed since they’d last seen each other.

“So why did the electrician install all of your bathroom plugs upside down?” Shepard asked as she got out of the car once they’d landed. It was a busy street, somewhere in the Presidium. Shepard didn’t know exactly where she was, but she didn’t much care either.

“I have no clue ,” Tali said, animatedly waving her hands. “But he said that it would be too much work to fix it, and I told him that ‘this is my first actual house in my entire life and he’s going to install them right, I don’t care how long it takes’.”

Paying attention to Tali’s engaging story-telling, Shepard blindly followed Liara across the sidewalk and into the restaurant around the corner. Liara opened the door and Shepard stepped inside, her smile freezing on her face as she immediately realized three things.

One. This was not a restaurant.

Two. This was a bridal boutique.

And Three. Every single female team member of both Normandy ’s was in attendance.

“ SURPRISE!!! ” they all shouted as they clapped and cheered.

Shepard swung around to see Liara and Tali standing behind her, blocking the exit with twin smirks on their faces.

“We all wanted to support you, Shepard,” Tali said.

“Because that’s what friends do,” Liara finished their quote from earlier. 

Her bluff had been called. All three of them knew it. Of course she could get out of this, but that would mean giving up the game. Not on their lives. Shepard glared at each of them for a moment before turning back around to face the horde behind her.

Immediately, she was pulled into about five different hugs. Liara and Tali had managed to get everyone ; even Kelly was in attendance. How Liara had managed to track down all of them, Shepard wasn’t quite sure.

“Chakwas, good to see you again,” Shepard said as she hugged her.

“Congratulations, Admiral,” Chakwas replied, touching Shepard’s cheek for a moment. “I always wondered when you two crazy kids were going to finally get together.”

“...Yeah.” Shepard glanced away and was quickly pulled away by Traynor and Kasumi, who were gushing about how romantic the wedding would surely be. But Samara saved Shepard by stepping in and giving her a heartfelt, if solemn, congratulations.

“I’m so happy for you, Shepard,” Miranda said, offering a rare smile.

“Even though you lost the bet?”

Jack swung an arm over Miranda’s neck, an empty champagne glass in hand. “There’s no shame in losing to a superior enemy,” Jack said with a grin. Miranda just rolled her eyes.

“Jack, I’m surprised they got you to come,” Shepard said.

“Hell yeah. I was promised free booze and the chance to watch you be very fucking uncomfortable. So far it’s delivering in a big way–hey!” Jack turned and waved her glass at a passing shop attendant. “We need more champagne.”

“Attention,” Liara called, standing on a raised box in front of some mirrors and delicately clinking her own glass. The rapid conversation around Shepard died down and everyone turned to face her. “Thank you all for coming today. We’re all very excited to celebrate Shepard and Garrus’ upcoming nuptials.”

There was enough irony dripping off Liara’s words to flood the Presidium. Shepard gave her a very rueful smile as a replacement for the hand gesture she really wanted to give as everyone around her cheered.

“To help kick off the celebration, we’ve all selected dresses for you to try on, Shepard.” Oh, this was even worse than Shepard had originally imagined. Liara was either the bravest or the stupidest person on the Citadel. “So come on back and we’ll get you into the first dress.”

The next two hours that followed were some of the most aggravating in Shepard’s life. She didn’t much care for clothes shopping in any context. But trying on dresses for a fake wedding was probably the worst afternoon she could imagine. 

Kelly and Traynor had chosen a sparkling lace ball gown that itched something terrible and was wider than Shepard could reach. EDI’s choice was… unique.

“I look like a disco ball,” Shepard said, looking at herself in the mirror and turning slightly. The light caught on the many, many, many sequins sending highlights dancing across any surface nearby.

“This is the most mathematically perfect dress in the store,” EDI insisted from behind Shepard’s shoulder. Shepard gave her a flat look for a moment. “That was a joke. I enjoy the way it sparkles.”

Samara had picked some sort of navy blue pant suit romper that Shepard actually didn’t mind. Though at first she wasn’t sure if the Justicar had understood the point of what they were doing here.

“White is a strange color to wear for a bonding ceremony,” Samara said sagely.

“Oh, I like this one,” Chakwas chimed in, lifting her glass.

Kasumi and Miranda had chosen some sort of architectural dress in a shimmering dove grey. Kasumi cooed in delight, clasping her hands together just under her chin, as Shepard opened the door to the dressing room.

“Come out and let us see it,” Miranda coaxed, looking very satisfied with her choice.

“If I take another step, it’s going to slide right off me.” Shepard gestured to the front of the dress. “I don’t have the support structure to keep it on.”

“That’s easily fixed, Shep. I know a guy,” Kasumi dismissed with a wave of her hand.

Shepard just shut the door to put on the next option, which Jack had chosen.

“Jack, I’m not coming out in this,” Shepard said as the attendant laced up the back.

“Yes, you are. You drag me through a suicide mission and I get to see you in that dress–that’s the deal.”

“I’ve seen lingerie with more coverage than this dress!”

“That’s kinda the fuckin’ point. Now get out here.”

Jack’s choice left very little to the imagination as it was a partially see-through lace bodice attached to a ridiculously poofy tulle skirt. When Shepard stepped out, Jack immediately started cackling. Several others in the group were doing their best to hide their laughter.

“Alright, alright, you had your fun,” Shepard said, hiking up the skirt and retreating to the dressing room. “Guess none of these were winners...”

“Wait! There’s still one more dress to try on,” Tali said, rising from one of the couches they’d all crowded on. She was heading back to the racks along the wall.

“No, please, Tali, no more.”

Tali did not listen to Shepard’s protests, merely pulled a dress bag from the rack and handed it off to one of the attendants. “Last one, we promise. Liara picked this one out, but I give it my seal of approval.”

Heaving a sigh, Shepard went back into the dressing room, dreading the most assuredly terrible option that the two of them had picked for her. Probably the most hideous gown that they could find. Though as the attendant unzipped the bag, her eyebrows immediately lifted, and all frustration blew away. 

It took a while to fasten the long line of pearl buttons up the back, but when Shepard stepped out, every face in the room immediately brightened. Well, Liara looked damn near vindicated, but it was a joyful vindication all the same.

“Well done, Liara,” Traynor said in a low tone. “Shepard, if Garrus gets cold feet, I will happily volunteer.”

Liara beamed and reached out to take Shepard’s hand and help her stand on the small dais in front of the mirrors. The dress felt beautiful to wear, but as she looked at herself, her breath caught in her throat.

It was just simple white silk, cut long and flowing with a fitted waistband and an elegant neckline. Not the latest trend in wedding dresses, and nothing flashy or gaudy about it. But it was so much more than that. 

“What do you think?” Liara asked, appearing now at Shepard’s elbow. From the look in her eye, Shepard knew that Liara knew. Shepard had seen a dress like this before, every day for fifteen years in a photo on the mantle in the living room.

“I look like my mom,” she said, a very wet smile cutting through with a breathless laugh just behind.

A veil was quickly fetched and even a stand-in bouquet was handed to her. It wasn’t but a few minutes later that Shepard was staring at a bride in the mirror, exactly like what she’d always pictured a bride would be a lifetime ago. For a moment, elation shimmered across her face. Then a sour voice reminded her, You’re not actually getting married to Garrus, remember ? Right. She should go get changed.

Her own clothes felt ill-fitting as she put them back on, the beautiful dress hanging forlornly in the corner. Before she left the dressing room, she ran a hand across the smooth fabric of the gown. If she was actually getting married, without a doubt, that would be the dress. But she wasn’t actually getting married, so she left it behind with a quiet sigh.

Everyone was gathering by the front door when Shepard rejoined the group.

“So did you buy it?” Kasumi pressed.

Shepard just shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll consider it.”

“You should buy the one I picked,” Jack added, her pronunciation a little relaxed from all the champagne. “Give Garrus a peek at the goods.”

“You think he hasn’t already seen them?” Shepard asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack pulled a face and waved a hand. “Gross, I don’t want to know about that.” 

Shepard grinned in triumph and turned to face everyone else. “I can’t believe you all came to the Citadel just to watch me try on dresses.”

“That, but also we came for the party,” Miranda replied.

Shepard frowned. “Party?”

“The engagement party?”

“Liara and I were going to tell you later, Shepard,” Tali said, cutting in with a smile that said she had no intention whatsoever of telling Shepard anything. “But we’re throwing a little engagement party for the two of you before the wedding. Just a simple gathering with the whole Normandy squad. It’ll be fun! Like old times.”

Shepard bit down hard on her back teeth and nodded. “Just like old times,” she repeated, feeling dread starting to descend. This… may have been a bad plan.

Chapter Text

The ‘simple gathering’ was set to take place the night following the dress ambush. But when Shepard woke the next morning to find a small army of event planners and waitstaff waiting at her front door, she suspected that there wasn’t going to be anything simple about it. Still, she quickly decided that the best course of action was just to stay out of everyone’s way and let Liara tire herself out with micromanaging the party.

After some searching, Shepard found a small corner of the kitchen that was removed enough from the absolute chaos that she could remain there for a few minutes without having to be shunted to a different area of the apartment again.

“There you are,” she heard Garrus say. Shepard looked up from the datapad she was reading of the booze Liara had sent over for the party, a prestigious and very thorough collection, to see him weaving his way through the busy kitchen.  

“Yeah, sorry.” She set the datapad aside and caught him as he very narrowly avoided being slapped with a large saucepan. “I saw that you’d called, but it’s been chaos here, as you can see,” she said, helping him back up on his feet.

Garrus ducked out of the way of a staff member running past with an arm full of tablecloths, pulling her with him with an arm around her waist that sent Shepard’s pulse rising. “I thought this was supposed to just be a small get together with the crew.” He looked across the busy space, but didn’t back away or let go.

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, deliberately ignoring how close he was right now. “Liara and Tali put their heads together. I figured I should just let them have their fun. Which has proven to be a mistake.”

He chuckled once then looked down at her. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

“Yeah, I think the balcony is safe.” 

Carefully they made their way through the chaos to the sliding glass door. Stepping out into the ambient quiet of the balcony, Shepard wondered why she’d hadn’t just set up camp out here all morning. 

“So, what’s up?” Shepard asked, leaning against the railing and looking over at Garrus.

He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. Never a good sign. “Well, I have some bad news…”

“The last month has taught me to be very wary when you use that phrase, Garrus,” she replied, dryly.

“Victus wants us to come to Palaven for a couple weeks.”

“ Weeks ?” she clarified. He nodded, looking worried. She heaved a quick sigh; all in all a mandatory vacation to Palaven wasn’t the worst pronouncement she’d heard recently. “Why?”

“He wants to introduce us to…” He looked out at the view as if the explanation was written on the skyline in front of him. “To our eventual life, in his mind.”

“Right… future Mrs. Primarch of Palaven,” she muttered, looking down at her hands. She didn’t look up till she felt Garrus’ hand rest on her shoulder.

“It’ll be a break from the press at least,” he offered in a gentle tone. “And you can meet my sister finally. I’ll make sure it’s a good time, I promise.”

She gave him a small smile. “Send me the dates and I’ll clear my schedule. Any other bad news?”

She’d been joking, but by the look on his face she was probably a lot closer to the truth than she’d imagined. “Victus also wants us to have the bonding ceremony in Cipritine,” he said, looking at her cautiously. “But I think I can talk him out of that,” he added quickly.

“Why?”

He blinked at her twice. “You want to get married on Palaven?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “If it pacifies him for now, why bother fighting it? Besides, not like my family’s going to have an opinion.”

He squeezed her shoulder and then reflected for a moment, letting his hand drop away. “Alright then…”

She’d long since accepted the reality of losing her family, or rather her first family. She had a new family now, one she loved just as much. An idea came to mind that made her smile: if they were going to plan a whole fake wedding, why shouldn’t they have some fun with it? “Can we say that Wrex is going to give me away?”

Garrus laughed at that. “Sure, why not? Be worth it just for the look on Victus’ face. In turian ceremonies, typically both parents are present, so who should–” 

“Grunt.”

“Perfect.”

“Might need to widen the aisles.” They both laughed, but they were interrupted as his omnitool chimed with a reminder.

He glanced down at it and then dismissed it. “I can’t stay, but uh, before I forget. Sparatus mentioned that humans use jewelry as signifiers for bonding so…”

He pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket and Shepard immediately stilled, her grin dissolving off her face. He opened the box to reveal a ring, silver and set with a pearl and two impossibly blue stones on either side, and held it out to her. She just stared at it open-mouthed for several seconds, her gut a mixture of elation and grief.

“Do you like it?” he asked, sounding uncertain.

She pulled her eyes away from the ring to see his face. Her gut lurched again when she saw how nervous he was. She swallowed and nodded. “It’s… beautiful,” she said, purposefully keeping her voice steady. “What are the stones?”

“A gemstone unique to Palaven and pearls are unique to Earth so I thought it was… fitting for us.”

Oh, god. He’d put thought into this. He put thought into the fake engagement ring to give to his fake fiancee. Fake fake fake–Shepard reminded herself again and again. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t real .

Carefully, he took it out of the box and then held her left hand. She watched, absolutely breathless, as he slipped it on her fourth finger. She stared down at her hand held in his, his ring on her fourth finger, as if she’d never seen it before this moment. 

“Had to guess on the size…” he said softly, his thumb tracing back and forth across her fingers just below the ring.

“It’s perfect.” She looked up at him and returned his soft smile.

“I figured it can be a souvenir once we find a way out of this mess.”

“Yeah,” she said, forcing herself to laugh so she didn’t break down into tears. It got much harder to do when he cupped her cheek and peered at her carefully.

“You sure you like it? I can get another, there were ones with bigger stone–”

“No, no.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his neck, anything to get away from his gentle concern. “I love it. Thank you.”

His arms slipped around her and he held her tightly for a few seconds, his subharmonics humming lightly. Fake, it’s fake, don’t even let yourself feel otherwise . When he pulled away, she’d gathered herself enough to plaster a convincing smile on her face.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said, matching her smile.

“Yeah, see you then.”

He nodded and left the balcony. Shepard looked down at her new ring and had a sinking feeling. Liara had been right all along. This was a very bad plan.

Chapter Text

Garrus looked across the very loud apartment filled with nearly all of his friends, and he couldn’t stop a smile from lifting his mandibles. Not since that party near the end of the war had the entire crew all been under the same roof together. Even in the tentative peace that settled after the last reaper had fallen, they’d all been so busy that during any reunion at least a few were unable to make it due to their own responsibilities. (One by one, Shepard had turned all of them respectable, though some of them only just.) Still, if he’d known they’d all finally gather together again for a wedding, hell, he would have fake proposed to Shepard years ago. 

He refilled Shepard’s glass with her preferred skyllian scotch from the bar before heading back to the living room, passing by various groups of raucous conversation scattered throughout the open space.

“–you should have seen the size of these klixen, measly for me, but large for you–”

“–but that’s when we realized that we’d packed the wrong heat sinks–”

“–and then Shep says, ‘You big stupid jellyfish!’ –”

Chuckling, Garrus retook his place at Shepard’s side–his place all during the war, and before that, but no one made simpering, knowing looks at them back then like they did all the time now–and tried to catch up with what he’d missed in the conversation. They hadn’t gotten very far as Joker had had several drinks and was taking his sweet time getting to his point.

“Well, I knew Shepard and Garrus would get together way back on the SR1,” Joker declared, gesticulating with his glass in a wide arc until EDI took it from him without asking. “They'd–thanks, babe–they’d spend hours down in the cargo bay, fixing the Mako, and talking about all sorts of stupid stuff. Never could figure out what she saw in him; he always had this stick up his ass like you wouldn't believe–oh hey, Garrus.”

Ah, that was the point. Garrus gave him a good-natured glare as everyone else in the circle laughed. Shepard chuckled and then gave him a warm smile that took any sting at all out of the slight before taking her glass from him. 

“In Garrus’ defense, he wasn’t that bad,” she insisted with a slight roll of her eyes. “You always exaggerate the size of the stick.”

“Come on–” Joker started to protest before he was interrupted.

“Course you’d say that,” Wrex chimed in. “You’re the one who’s taken the turian as a–”

“ THANK you, Wrex,” she cut him off before he could finish the sentence with her own glare that made Garrus laugh. She held up the wrapped package she’d been holding in her other hand, shaking it slightly. “Can I open this finally, EDI?” 

“Or should she save it for the bachelorette party?” Tali teased loudly from where she was already sitting on the floor, a half-empty drink with colorful umbrellas in each hand.

“We already had the bachelorette party, remember?” Shepard protested. 

“You had a bachelorette party?” Garrus asked, looking her way.

“And you didn’t invite me?” Joked added, sounding appalled.

“They kidnapped me and made me try on wedding dresses all afternoon while they all got to drink champagne.”

Kaidan chuckled, keeping Tali sitting upright by being her brace. “And they lived to tell the tale?” 

“Give me time,” Shepard replied, setting down her glass on an end table. “I’m opening it.”

“My research into human marital traditions has proven very interesting,” EDI explained as Shepard tore off the colorful paper to reveal a sleek black box. “There’s quite a bit of diversity even amongst similar cultures, but gifts, especially matching gifts, were very important in many. Jeff suggested this one.”

Shepard paused her negotiations with the lid. “I’m suddenly scared to open it.”

“EDI has me on good behavior,” Joker grumbled. “Besides, I shipped all the Commander Shepard themed porn I could find to Garrus’ already.”

The room laughed at that, but Garrus wasn’t entirely certain if Joker was serious or not. He sincerely hoped he was kidding, and he took a long pull of his own glass of horosk in case Joker wasn’t.

Finally, Shepard flung the lid off the box, Tali wasn’t the only one a few sips away from horizontal, and immediately she folded over the present, laughing loudly. “I love it! This is perfect,” she declared after laughing for a solid minute.

“What is it?” Garrus asked, trying to see what she’d immediately cradled to her abdomen.

“Here, wait.” She turned away from him, putting something on her face that made the half of the room that could see her laugh too. Then she turned back to face him, a knowing smirk on her lips and a blue visor over her left eye. “His and hers visors. Now we match.”

Garrus grinned, reaching forward to adjust how it was positioned on her face. He knew the computer had properly aligned with her retina when she flinched slightly and a sudden barrage of information filled the screen. It was all backwards to him, but Shepard was immediately enraptured, scoping out her apartment with fresh eyes–well, eye.

“Which model is that? I’m not as familiar with the human lines,” he asked, looking back to Joker and EDI on the couch.

“That is the Archangel model. Top of the line,” Joker answered.

“Is it really called that?” Shepard asked, sounding thrilled.

“No, it’s the Commander model, what did you expect?”

Shepard laughed a little and looked up at Garrus, her whole face lit up and beaming. It was probably the copious amounts of booze he’d been drinking this evening, but she looked absolutely beautiful right now, he thought as he admired her.

“It’s a good look on you,” Garrus said, meaning it thoroughly.

She gave him another warm smile, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Thank you, EDI, Joker. I love it. Maybe now we can finally have a fair bottle shooting competition.”

“They’ve been fair, I’ve just been better,” Garrus replied as Shepard took the visor off, blinking one eye rapidly to adjust its focus. He quickly swiped it before she could tuck it away. He’d never seen one meant for human use up close before.

Joker laughed. “You’re already thinking about all the ways you can mod it, aren’t you, Garrus?”

“Oh, I’m making a list on mine right now,” Garrus replied, not at all kidding, but Joker laughed anyway.

“After the party,” Shepard interrupted, taking the visor from him and putting it back in the box before giving him a pointed look.

He sighed and slipped his hand back around her waist, finding his usual spot. “Only for you.”

“Aren’t I lucky?” she sighed back, leaning into him.  

“Gah, get a room, you two,” Joker jeered.

“Gladly,” Garrus shot back, pulling Shepard closer and glaring Joker’s way.

“You know,” Tali cooed, drawing out the word to three times its usual length. “I read on the extranet of a human tradition at weddings where the guests can ring their glasses, and the marrying couple have to kiss.”

Garrus could feel Shepard’s back muscles immediately tense. “Well, this isn’t our wedding, so–” she started.

“Ehh, it’s close enough, isn’t it? Come on! Kiss!” Tali elbowed Kaidan and started chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

The chant quickly picked up across the room and showed no sign of stopping till they got what they wanted. Shepard had gone very still, her expression carefully frozen in a semblance of embarrassed surprise. Maybe it was the pleasant buzz running through his veins, but Garrus didn’t really see what the big deal was. Well, if she wasn’t going to do anything...

Garrus turned towards her, slipping a hand up to cup her neck. Shock cut in through the surprise on her face, and with a pointed look, he asked her to just remain calm. Her shock and surprise dimmed after half a moment, overtaken by a trust forged in war. Taking a breath, he bowed his head to press his forehead against hers in a turian kiss. His eyes drifted shut as a deep serenity swept over him. The chanting, the room, everything else vanished but her. The world was peaceful and whole with Shepard’s face cradled between his hands, her soft breath brushing his mandibles. 

He’d forgotten how good this felt; it’d been so long since he’d done this. Not out of any particular choice, just the need had seemed to have evaporated since the end of the war. He’d attributed it to many different causes over the years–busyness, stress, lingering mental strain–but in the few seconds he was in the quiet space with Shepard, he suddenly wondered if somehow he’d been getting it wrong all along.

Catching himself before he let this linger inappropriately long, he lifted his head away and smiled down at her. Her cheeks had been tinted slightly pink since he saw them last, another good look on her. She smiled back at him, a hint of that impressed look he so thoroughly enjoyed receiving from her in her eyes.

“Nah, come on,” Vega booed from the balcony. “A real kiss!”

Shepard scowled at him, attempting some form of protestation, but it became clear that there was no getting around this as everyone else joined in. Now it was Garrus’ turn to panic. He looked down at Shepard, trying to hide the wild look that he knew had to be in his eyes. But he stopped as her hand rested on the side of his face.

“Follow my lead,” she breathed, gently guiding him back down towards her. He trusted her like she trusted him. This would be fine, just relax. For a second she just held his face in the intimate space with hers, her gaze darting from his mouth to his eyes and back, before the lids grew heavy. And then she was kissing him.

Spirits, this was… this was wonderful. It was different and brand new to him, but it made his heart patter and subvocals hum all the same. He cupped the back of her head, fingers threading into her silky hair, the other arm wrapping around her waist to hold her closer. She pulled half-back for a breath, eyes still closed, her forehead brushing his, before kissing him once again, more sure this time. Her fingertips were brushing his neck. Her breath was in his lungs. Stars bloomed behind his eyes, and he was pretty sure sparks were shooting out the ends of his fringe. 

Her eyes opened slowly as she finally pulled back. Something warm and gentle filled her gaze for a moment, taking his breath away with the sheer need to know it, to return it. Till she seemed to catch up to herself and blink a few times, shaking her head slightly and letting her arms fall away from him. 

They both realized at the same time that the whole party was still watching them and cheering wildly. Shepard offered a chagrined smile, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Happy, Vega?” she asked. Vega just let out a whoop from the balcony.

“Now, Tali,” Joker asked, thoughtfully scratching his chin in the thoughtful way that meant whatever he was about to say was going to be sarcastic. “Did your research say precisely how many times we could do this little trick?”

“Joker,” Shepard warned, only adding more fuel to Joker’s fire. The incorrect response.

“As many times as you like, I certainly don’t mind kissing her,” Garrus replied smoothly, pulling Shepard back into his arms and dipping his forehead to rest it on hers again. She laughed a little, and her whole face became quite red, even for a human. He nuzzled her cheek till Joker rolled his eyes and got up to refill his drink. 

“You’re welcome,” he said under his breath once their audience moved on.

Shepard nodded, her breathing a little shallow, and quickly glanced away, her posture stiff. A bit of worry crawled into Garrus’ gut at her reaction. However, he wasn’t in a place right now to ask her about it. The party’s attention shifted away from them to other topics, and they were both kept busy till a few hours later. 

The energy had reached fever pitch, a rather crowded dance floor spontaneously starting in the kitchen. Shepard put in her required dance and received the also required good-natured ribbing about her dancing as she did. Then Garrus noticed her slip out to the balcony in the back. He gave it a few minutes, finishing his drink on the sidelines before slipping out too.

Shepard was leaning on the balcony, the wind ruffling her hair slightly as she twisted the ring he’d given her around her finger.

“Hey,” Garrus said as he approached, taking his place again at her side. 

She flashed him a smile and nodded. 

He could feel the booze still humming through his veins, so he took a moment to make sure that the words sounded right in his head before he spoke them aloud. 

“Sorry about… earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfor–”

“No, it’s fine,” she interrupted, resting a hand on his forearm. He gave her a disbelieving look, and she huffed a quick breath. “It is. We have to keep up appearances. And you even got Joker off track. Smart strategy.”

He nodded, pleased that she’d liked his plan, and placed his hand over hers for a moment before taking it in his. He studied the ring on her finger for a moment before turning her hand over to trace a thumb across her palm. “Figured it just made sense. If you really were my intended, I’d never want to stop–you’re really nice to kiss.”

A smirk was hiding in her eyes as she tilted her head back to look at him. “Oh, I am, am I?” she asked. He hummed in agreement, making that smirk move down to her lips. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Vakarian.”

Her tone was dark, promising, and his subvocals instantly kicked on with a low answering growl. This wasn’t friendly platonic territory anymore… and there wasn’t any audience this time they were trying to placate. A lone inner voice wondered what he was doing, while the rest just pressed in, suddenly desperately interested in where this path could lead.

“You holding out on me, Shepard?” he accused languidly, leaning towards her.

“Maybe a little,” she answered, matching his tone and not looking away.

The air between them, and there wasn’t much at all anymore, crackled and popped. He couldn’t look away from her. In fact, every part of him just wanted to close the distance between them entirely and see exactly how much she was holding out on him. And right at this exact second, he was having trouble coming up with any reason not to. It would be good, better than good, everything that he wanted right at this moment. So he leaned towards her–

“Shepard!!” Wrex’s voice came crashing down on both of them like a bucket of cold water, immediately shattering the moment and any moods.

They jumped back from each other and faced Wrex, who was grinning ear to ear… or he would have, if he had ears.

“Hey, Wrex,” Shepard said, clearing her throat a touch. “Having fun?”

“Great party, could use more ryncol.”

“There was a keg each for both of you,” she replied, looking a little bewildered.

“And it’s all gone now. So I’m going to head out.”

“You heading back to Tuchanka or sticking around for a while?”

“Tuchanka. Oh, and I’m all set up on my end, if you’re set up on yours,” Wrex added, sounding cryptic and far too pleased with himself. The smile that immediately spread across Shepard’s face gave Garrus pause. He knew that smile. That smile always meant trouble.

“Yep, all set up on mine.”

The mild concern Garrus had been feeling blossomed into out-right fear as both Shepard and Wrex turned to look at him at the same time, twin smiles on their faces. Was Shepard certain that she didn’t have krogan blood running through her veins?

“What’s going on?” he dared to ask, stepping back a touch.

“You know, us krogan don’t pair off the way you smaller races do, at least not anymore. But there are a few ancient rites that used to be performed before a pair would become bonded.”

“Namely a five day survivalist hunting trip through the Tuchankan wilderness,” Shepard finished. 

“Congratulations, turian, you’ll be the first non-krogan to complete the rite.”

Garrus grappled for an excuse, a reason, anything that would get him out of this. “I… uh, it’s very… thoughtful, Wrex. But I… I’m afraid my schedule just–”

“Oh, don’t worry. I cleared it with Victus this afternoon,” Shepard offered in an overly helpful manner.

“But we’re supposed to go to Palaven next week,” Garrus hedged, grasping at anything to get him out of this.

“I know. I’ll pick you up on my way,” she chirped. 

A lightbulb suddenly clicked on. “Is this payback for making you dance at the ball?”

“Among other things.” She smiled brightly as Wrex chuckled. Yeah, there was no escaping this.

“Then I… look forward to it.”

“Good,” Wrex grunted. “Because we’re leaving right now.”

In a move that Garrus would have previously assumed to be physically impossible, he somehow wound up swung over Wrex’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes–to borrow the human idiom. One moment Garrus was upright and the next he was staring at the back of Wrex’ waist, wondering how his life had come to this.

“I’ll try and keep him alive, Shepard. Consider it my wedding present to you,” Wrex said, hoisting Garrus up a little further. 

“Thanks, Wrex,” Shepard replied, sounding mightily amused. 

“Oh, also, Eve wants to know when you’ll be coming to Tuchanka next.” 

“Soon, I hope. Little busy right now, but soon, I promise.” 

“Mordin misses you.” 

Shepard chuckled. “Tell her I miss her too.” 

Garrus cleared his throat, trying his best to sound dignified while still slung over Wrex’ shoulder. “If you two are going to talk, can you at least put me down, Wrex?” 

“No. Besides, we’re leaving now.” He turned away, bringing Shepard, still smiling and laughing slightly, into the sideways view. “Tell Shepard you love her.” 

The smile abruptly dropped off Shepard’s face, and Garrus felt much the same. They probably should have talked about this ahead of time, but there was no time now.

“I… love you,” he managed, staring up at her. 

“...I love you too,” she replied, after a moment’s hesitation. He couldn’t look away from her. Her face was oddly somber and a little bewildered. Despite this just being another part of the act they were both playing, somehow–and in the moment, Garrus couldn’t figure out why–it felt unusually significant.

But Wrex just grunted. “That was weird. So long, Shepard.”

Chapter Text

True to his word, Wrex did keep Garrus alive through the camping trip. Though Garrus sort of staggered his way up the gangway when Shepard arrived to pick him up. 

“You okay, sweetie?” she asked, offering him a hand and a knowing smile on the last few steps. He nodded droopily as he stumbled by into the ship proper. Shepard made sure that he hadn’t fallen flat over, then waved a parting hand to Wrex and Grunt on the docks as the ship began take off checks.

Garrus was still standing just inside the door, blinking blankly ahead of him, when Shepard turned back around.

“Garrus?” she asked, actually a little concerned now.

His head jerked her direction, and he laughed a little as he caught up to himself. “Remind me… to never piss you off again.”

That made her smile. “Did Wrex tell you–”

“–That there was no such thing as an ancient krogan bonding rite, and it was all just a concocted plan between the two of you, yes. Yes, he did. After about four days of running with a small herd of krogan non-stop.”

She patted his shoulder. “There’s a cabin with a turian-style bed on the second deck.”

“Thank the spirits,” he sighed, shuffling in the direction of the elevator. “Wake me when we get to Palaven.”

And he actually slept for the entire journey from Tuchanka to Palaven. She checked his pulse every few hours and made sure that he didn’t kick off the blanket, but otherwise let him be. Revenge was sweet, but he was still her best friend/fake fiance… and she was a little bit in love with him, but that hardly mattered.

She finally woke him as they started their final approach into Cipritine, Palaven’s capital. There was a skycar waiting for them when they left the spaceport, amidst more than a few onlookers. Both of their faces were well known here, but together they were a side-show. Shepard was very grateful that Victus had thought to send a car with tinted windows.

“Do you want me to wake you when we arrive again?” Shepard asked with a slight smile as the car took off. 

Garrus batted a hand against her knee. “I think I’ll manage a ten minute journey.”

The lights of the city were just starting to flicker on now that the sun had fully set as they flew to the northern edge. Cipritine was a regimented place, but beautiful in its order, Shepard thought as she watched it fly past her window.

Garrus looked surprised as the car landed in front of a sprawling estate on the opposite side of the city. The graceful curves and flourishes of the edifice were a sharp contrast to every other building she’d seen on Palaven so far. If the building wasn’t obviously made of stone, it could very well be mistaken for some sort of natural construct. As if it’d grown out of the ground, instead of being built.

Victus was waiting for them on the front steps, a very pleased expression on his face.

“Welcome Garrus, Shepard. Good to see you both again,” he said as they got out of the car.

Garrus was admiring the building. “They finished the restoration?” he asked, sounding rather excited.

“Yes, just last week.” Victus folded his hands behind his back and turned to survey the manor with Garrus. “Moved in myself a few days ago. What do you think, Shepard?”

She gaped for a few seconds as she struggled to find something adequate. “It’s… it’s beautiful. So different from anything else on Palaven.”

“That’s what you get for hiring an asari architect,” he replied with a conspiratorial grin. “A thousand and twelve years have passed and we’ll never be able to live that one down. But you do like it?”

“How could I not?”

“Good. It’ll be your home some day.” He clapped Garrus’ shoulder. “Come, I’ll give you two a quick tour before we retire.”

Victus had said it so casually, it’ll be your home some day , but it felt like the phrase slapped Shepard dead in the face. It took a moment to shake it off, and then she had to jog to catch up with the two of them.

The house was even more grand inside, sweeping staircases and elegant halls. It was work to keep her shock and awe from completely overriding her control. They weren’t even shown half the house, and it was far, far larger than anything else Shepard had ever stayed in.

As it was late, Victus showed them to their room with many promises of completing the tour in the morning. Though as Garrus pushed open the doors, Shepard quickly realized it wasn’t a room but a whole goddamn suite. Massively tall ceilings and gracefully curved windows made the space feel more like a cathedral than a place to sleep. 

“This is just for us?” she whispered to Garrus once Victus had bid them good night and left.

Garrus nodded, smiling a little at her astounded expression. “Did you think we’d have to share with Victus?”

She gave him a flat look and turned away. “This is a long way from Mindoir,” she said mostly to herself as she walked through the spacious sitting room. The suite was as large as her whole apartment, which wasn’t ungenerous by any stretch. It’ll be your home some day –well… it would if she was actually engaged to Garrus. 

It took some searching, but she eventually found her suitcase tucked neatly in the back of an enormous closet. She almost headed straight for it, but then she recognized a few of the clothes on the racks. Someone must have come through and unpacked for her, for Garrus too, during the tour. There was something so quietly intimate about their clothes hung up next to each other that she couldn’t help but stare for a few moments, and then she felt a little ridiculous for admiring a clothes rack.

Putting it aside, she quickly changed into pajamas and wandered through the suite checking doors. She found a bathroom, a second closet because apparently the first one wasn’t enough, some sort of study, and then finally found a bedroom. The only bedroom. The only bed inside the only bedroom was oddly circular, and looked to be exceedingly soft if the way it was raised like a loaf of freshly baked bread was any proof.

Garrus was already inside, pulling off the decorative pillows from the bed and setting them in a neat pile nearby. Well, finders-keepers. And it wasn’t like there weren’t a half dozen couches or cushioned chairs that she could sleep in besides.

“I think tomorrow is going to be a lot of touring,” Garrus said as he pulled off the final pillow. “Victus just messaged me to ask what time we’d be awake as High Command will open at daybreak.”

Shepard groaned a little as she wandered over towards the windows, which on closer inspection were actually glass doors that would open into their own private garden. “What time did you tell him?”

“I told him no earlier than ten. He was about to protest, but then I reminded him that humans require more sleep so he backed down.”

She scoffed, glancing back at him. “I don’t need that much more sleep.”

“Victus doesn’t need to know that. Besides, I promised that this would be an enjoyable trip, and I assume you would like to not wake up before dawn.” 

“Good point.”

Garrus dropped back on the bed, which was just as soft as she’d imagined as he nearly disappeared from view in the cushions, with a deep sigh. “I need to get one of these for my apartment on the Citadel,” he muttered.

She chuckled a little just watching him adjust several times and then settle into a comfortable position, smack in the middle of the bed.

“Comfy?” she asked.

His response was another long sigh and to snuggle deeper into the bed, which made her chuckle again. What a nerd.

“Hey, throw me one of those pillows,” she said, turning to head to the door.

Garrus cracked open an eye and craned his head up to look at her. “What?”

“Toss me a pillow, I want to go to sleep.”

He looked at her for a minute, a very confused expression on his face. “What’s wrong with the bed?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean the bed you’re currently sprawled across?”

“I can make room.” He started shuffling to one side of the bed.

“No, that wasn’t–I’ll just sleep on one of the dozen sofas in the living room. It’s fine.”

At that he sat up so he could properly look at her. “We’re supposed to be engaged. If Victus or any of the staff come in and see you sleeping on a couch, won’t that be suspicious?”

He had a point, she had to admit. So she sighed. “Fine.”

He finished scooting to one side of the bed. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself. Would hate to accidentally gut the great Commander Shepard.”

“Your talons have been dulled for years, and we both know it, Vakarian,” she groused as she sat down on the side of the bed. Okay, so she was sharing a bed with Garrus. She’d shared a couch before, why did this feel so very different? Perhaps because last time hadn’t been a conscious choice and this very much was one. 

Making herself keep calm, she leaned back and was immediately swallowed by cushion. She struggled for a full minute to find a position that didn’t end up with her in a cocoon of pillows before she noticed Garrus just watching her with a highly amused expression.

“Are you just going to laugh at me or are you going to help?” she huffed.

“You’re doing a fine job of impersonating a drowning elcor all by yourself.”

She grabbed one of the pillows and threw it at him. It hit him square in the face, but he just laughed. 

“Here,” he offered, holding out a hand. She flung out a hand to grab it. He pulled her to calmer waters and much closer to himself. Her eyes went wide as they collided and his face filled her vision. Suddenly every conscious thought she’d ever had was crowded out of her brain as it filled with a thousand exclamation points. 

Garrus just chuckled a little, and his hand rested on her shoulder. “Spirits… you’re warm.” His hand slid down her arm, sending goosebumps chasing across her skin. “What temperature are you normally?”

She had to shove aside some of the exclamation points to access the information. “Uh… thirty-seven thereabouts.”

“Thirty-sev–How did I not know you were this warm?” 

She shook her head and shrugged a shoulder.

“Something new everyday…” He smiled a little and scooted slightly backwards, breaking contact with her. “Well, can you manage here?”

“Yeah… thanks.”

“Good night, Shepard.” He turned so his back was towards her, curling up on his side.

She looked at him for a long moment, rubbing her arm before turning away to mirror him. “Good night, Garrus.”

There were several minutes of quiet as she tried to focus on drifting off. It was peaceful here, and this bed was deadly comfortable now that she wasn’t drowning in it. Just the sound of the fountain in the garden behind their rooms trickled in through the open french doors. Her eyes drifted shut, but her slip into sleep was halted when something touched her leg. 

“Garrus,” Shepard whispered.

“What?” he whispered back.

“Your foot is touching me.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He pulled his foot away. They were quiet for another few minutes, and then she felt him brush her leg again.

“Garrus.”

“Sorry.”

It was barely a minute later when he returned.

She heaved a sigh and glared at his back. “ Garrus .”

“You’re just so warm,” he apologized, not sounding the least bit sorry. 

She hissed and tried to scoot away as his foot deliberately pressed against her calf now. “Gah, you’re freezing!”

He just brought his other frigid appendage to soak up her warmth as she whined in protest, every attempt to scoot to safety proved futile. 

“You’re like a little furnace,” he laughed.

“Call me little again, and you will be the one sleeping out on the couch,” she warned, blindly swatting an arm in his direction and connecting with something vaguely carapace shaped.

“Alright, fine,” he apologized, sounding at least a little sincere this time. And he pulled his feet away. 

Peace returned, and it wasn’t long before Shepard could hear the shift in Garrus’ breathing, going deeper and slower. She had almost drifted off to sleep herself when she heard the subtle slide of a leg through sheets again and then felt his ankle cross hers, his foot hooking around her own. She decided to let it stay this time, a barely suppressed smile on her face.

Chapter Text

Garrus rose to consciousness a few hours later curled around something soft and delightfully warm. As his eyes drifted open, he realized it was Shepard that, somewhere in sleep, he’d wrapped securely in his arms. For a minute, he just froze in surprise, but slowly relaxed as she slept on unbothered. He apparently had to add two things to the list of New Things Learned About Shepard. Not only was she a toasty thirty-seven degrees at all times, she also made a more than decent pillow too. He could hardly remember the last time he’d slept so well as the first half of this night.

Despite the teasing he knew she would give him about this if she was awake, he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret the unconscious decision. He was extremely comfortable, and she was the perfect temperature and smelled lovely–like pine trees and rain. 

Normally in the wee waking hours of the night that all turians had, he’d exercise or fiddle uninterrupted with some piece of half-upgraded weaponry before heading back to sleep after an hour or so. But tonight, he didn’t want to leave this small, sacred space he’d found himself in with her. Shepard was half-tangled up with him and the blankets, one of her ankles hooked inside his spur–a rather intimate gesture for a turian that he was oddly peaceful about making with her. 

Instead of doing anything productive, Garrus wound up studying the woman he was sharing the bed with for a while. Not since Shepard was lying comatose for weeks on end had he had such a chance to search her face, her features long since memorized. Sleep revealed a vulnerability that he never saw when she was awake. It was hard to believe this soft person with small eyelashes fanned across her cheeks and her fingers delicately curled into her palms had the strength to hold the galaxy together. How she’d managed to survive everything she had, he’d never understand, but he was so grateful she had. Life without her would be… unthinkable.

As much as he wanted to just keep studying her, he probably should read those dossiers that Victus sent over during his extended nap from Tuchanka. Garrus adjusted a little so he could access his omnitool, careful to not wake Shepard nor to disengage her ankle from his spur. She hummed softly and shifted, tucking her head into the space between his chin and his cowl. A perfect fit, he noticed as he opened the first dossier. She drifted back deeper into sleep without waking. Idly, he slipped a few strands of her hair through his fingers as he read the meeting minutes.

A peaceful hour eased by that way, no sound but Shepard’s steady breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets. The few times he’d had a longer-term romantic relationship, he never found the company to be as quietly refreshing as this was. Maybe having a mate wouldn’t be so bad if it could be like this, he thought as he closed one dossier and opened another. 

He was half-way through a very dry report on Cipritine’s year over year manufacturing exports when he noticed that there was a change. The restful atmosphere had evaporated without warning, and he couldn’t immediately figure out why. He closed his omnitool and checked around the dark room, an arm going protectively around Shepard’s shoulders. Nothing seemed amiss for a few seconds, but then he felt it. 

Shepard had tensed. Every muscle in her body was drawn and ready for a fight, but she was still sleeping. He peered down at her. Her eyes were moving rapidly behind the thin skin of her eyelids. Her breathing was coming hard and fast, almost shuddering. What was happening?

Then suddenly her eyes burst open and she gasped, arching up off the bed and away from him. Her eyes looked around wildly as she gulped in air, hands wrenching at the back of her neck for something. 

“Shepard,” he said forcefully to draw her attention, but keeping a low tone. 

Her eyes snapped over towards him, and she stared at him, still panting. For just a moment, he saw absolute terror in her eyes before it turned abruptly to shame. Her head dropped back against his arm underneath her; he could feel her pulse still racing.

“Shit, Garrus. I’m sorry,” she whispered, running a hand over her now sweaty forehead. 

“Are you okay?”

She swallowed and nodded. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She glanced his way, her breathing slowing. “Are you okay?”

He could feel that her whole body was still shaking, and she was asking if he was okay. A wave of indignation with her rose up inside him, but he pushed it down. “Of course.”

“Good.” She was flexing and clenching her hands to get them to stop shaking. It didn’t appear to be working.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly, watching her try to put herself back together.

She glanced at him and sat up quickly, dodging the bullet of his gaze. “No need. I’m fine,” she insisted as she scooted towards the edge of the bed. 

“Shepard–”

“You should get some sleep. I’m fine.”

That wave came back, accompanied by some very old frustration that he hadn’t realized he still had. “No, you’re not fine,” he snapped as he sat up. 

She tensed and looked over her shoulder at him, shock added to the lingering terror and embarrassment. 

“It was one thing to do this back on the Normandy , but you’re not my commander anymore, Shepard. So don’t lie to me .”

Her half-open mouth shut with an audible click, and she turned back around, her shoulders hunched as if bracing for an attack. He sighed, berating himself. Anger was not the way to go about this. Carefully, he eased over till he was sitting next to her on the edge of the bed. Her hands were white-knuckled on her knees.

“You… you don’t have to pretend that you don’t bleed anymore,” he said, softly.

Her chin raised slightly as she took a slow breath. “Some habits are harder to break than others… I don’t want to bother you.”

He looked over at her, wondering how he’d given the impression that she could ever possibly bother him. “It’s not… Shepard, it’s okay to let other people take care of you.”

She let out a short humorless laugh. “And who’d want to do that? It’d be an awful job.”

“Not to me.” He waited till she looked over at him. “Not if it’s you.”

She hesitated, almost as if she was waiting for him to take it back. But he meant every word. Just because the war was over didn’t mean that he wasn’t still willing to follow her to the ends of the galaxy and beyond. She’d always been there for him in his darkest moments, but he’d never really gotten the chance to return the favor. Perhaps that had been intentional on her part back when she was in command. But the war was over.

When she realized he was serious, she looked away again, frowning deeply. After a few seconds, her muscles unclenched all at once, folding over herself towards him. He caught her and pulled her back into his arms, tucking her head back between his chin and cowl as he laid down again. 

Now was his chance to support her, but for a second, he worried that he wouldn’t know what to do. Hoping that it was helpful, he hummed soothingly, just like his parents used to do when he woke up with nightmares as a child, and carefully carded his fingers through her hair. Her shaking slowly subsided, but she was still tense.

“It’s Alchera,” she said in a small voice several minutes later. “It’s always Alchera these days.”

Reactively, he curled around her as if to shield her from the memories. “Even after all this time?” he asked softly.

“Yeah…” She fiddled with the edge of his sleeve while she thought. “Maybe dying’s not something you can get over.”

He sighed, pulling her in tightly as if he could somehow pull her into his carapace and keep her safe between his lungs. There weren't any answers for this, as badly as he wanted to just be able to say a few words and make this better for her. They both knew that some wounds were forever carried with them no matter what they did. He would always have Omega; she would always have Alchera.

“For what it’s worth, I’m here,” he offered, feeling that it was worth very little. But when she turned to look up at him, the terror was finally gone from her eyes. Something huge and unknowable simmered in her gaze, and then she tucked her face back against his neck. After several minutes, he felt her drift off again. Peaceful once more. 

Maybe it was worth more to her than he thought.

Chapter Text

Garrus was more right than he wanted to be as the next day was full of quite a bit of touring. They were taken through the rest of the house before breakfast, and then onto High Command, and then the base, and then dragged into Cipritine proper. Victus didn’t seem satisfied to let Garrus show Shepard around, despite numerous hints that they’d be just fine on their own. Never mind that Garrus had actually grown up in the city while Victus had lived on the other side of the planet until after the war.

The true bright side to the first half of the day was Shepard, who took the ridiculousness in stride and made just enough under-her-breath comments solely for Garrus’ amusement that the morning was bearable. She never faltered, even though she had the most right to complain as she was stuck inside an environmental suit the whole time. It seemed to be a custom piece, navy and sleek. Garrus found himself more than once admiring its construction… At least he was pretty sure it was just the suit he was admiring.

 Though as the afternoon began, Garrus noticed Shepard slowing down. They were winding their way through the historical quarter in the heart of Cipritine. Victus ahead of them was rambling about the stone that the buildings had been built with some three thousand years ago, so Garrus slowed a few steps to wait for Shepard.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked in a low voice when she caught up.

She nodded. “Just been a lot of walking,” she responded in a similar volume, her voice tinny through the suit’s speaker.

“I think we’re nearly done–”

“Here we are!” Victus proclaimed, sweeping an arm out and looking back at his dawdling tour group. They’d reached a large square with ancient cobblestone streets shining brightly under the noon sun. “The historic Basilica of Cipritine!”

Once the tallest building in the entire city, the Basilica sat at the highest point geographically speaking. Majestic and solemn, a triangular spire pierced up into the sky at each corner of the dark stone building. It rose above the square with several tiered flights of stairs surrounding the building on all sides.

“I thought turians didn’t have a formal religion,” Shepard said as they caught up with Victus.

“No, no, it’s not a place of worship. This used to be the location of High Command in ancient times, pre-space flight. But now it’s just used for assemblies and important ceremonies, and I was thinking this would be the perfect place for the wedding. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Victus quickly crossed the square with Shepard and Garrus lagging behind.

“That’s a lot of stairs,” she said as they approached the bottom.  

“Can you make it?” Garrus asked, trying to read her expression through the visor.

“Probably should have brought my cane,” she replied but didn’t answer.

Garrus offered her his arm. “May I…?” It wasn’t as good as her cane, but hopefully it was better than nothing.

She smiled up at him and took his arm. It was slow-going, but eventually they reached the top. The story-high front doors of the Basilica were already standing open with Victus eagerly hovering in the entryway.

Garrus had never been inside the Basilica unless several hundred people were there too. Every footstep echoed around the large empty stone room. The lights were left off, but sunlight poured through the large windows, puddling on the floor and bouncing off the square columns that held up the ceiling far above.

Once inside, Shepard immediately pulled off her helmet and shook out her hair, which had become interestingly curled from repeatedly being tucked back up into the helmet throughout the day. Garrus pulled his eyes away from her and surveyed the space. 

“Now it’ll seat up to two thousand,” Victus said, turning away and heading towards the raised stage at the far end of the room.

Shepard gave Garrus a look. “Oh, is that all?” she said sarcastically. “I’m not sure that’ll be big enough.”

“That was exactly my thought,” Victus replied, no trace of sarcasm in his voice. “But I have a plan; we can put cameras up on the balcony.” He pointed up to the balcony that wrapped around the room on three sides. “Live-stream the ceremony to the entire galaxy.”

Shepard’s eyebrows shot up, and she immediately looked Garrus’ way.

“Tha–that might be too much for us, Victus,” Garrus tried to push back. “There’s no need to turn this into some big public spectacle.”

“Yes, just something small with friends and family would be more than sufficient,” Shepard added. Garrus nodded.

“You don’t understand.” Victus turned and headed back their way, a doggedly persuasive expression on his face. “You two are more than just Jane and Garrus now. You’re legends, figureheads, but you’re tied to the war. For the two of you to be in the public eye in this way, in a peaceful way, it sends a message that the war is really and truly over. Life is moving on, getting back to normal. Even Commander Shepard and Advisor Vakarian are moving past it.”

The picture Victus painted hung in the air between them for a moment.

“Not to mention the billions of credits in tourism this would bring to Palaven,” Shepard added.

Victus smiled. “Why else do you think I offered to pay for it?”

Shepard chuckled once then looked around. “It’s a little… solemn for a wedding.”

“Yes, Garrus mentioned that human weddings are a bit more involved than turian ones, but I’m certain we can make this look as resplendent as you’d like.”

Garrus had only ever attended one human wedding in his life: Gabby & Ken’s. It wasn’t a lavish spectacle, but it was perfect for the two of them. Looking around at the room now, Garrus pictured the smiling faces of all their friends who would attend. Flowers would be wrapped around columns and lining the center aisle, filling the space with color and fragrance. Shepard would walk down the aisle in an elegant white dress, her expression warm and gentle. She’d give him a ring to match hers, and he’d kiss her again… and she’d be his mate. 

Shepard’s elbow to his waist pulled him out of the fantasy, making his subvocals stutter out the dreamily pleased frequency they’d been humming in. Victus was giving him a knowing smile, but Shepard just gave him a pointed look. Right, they weren’t actually going to be bonded. Right. 

“Uh, we’ll–we’ll think about it,” Garrus managed. 

The set of Victus’ mandibles spoke eloquently to how little time they’d be allowed to ‘think about it’. But he merely nodded and waved a hand back the way they’d come. “Well, shall we continue with the tour?”

Shepard’s eyebrows pulled together. “There’s more?” 

“Only back to High Command. We’re not far from here, and weather’s pleasant for the walk–”

“Actually, I think a car would be better,” Garrus said before Shepard had to push any further. “I can go–”

“No, please. Allow me,” Victus offered and he immediately headed for the doors.

Shepard waited for him to disappear down the steps before sighing. “Thank you…”

“Of course,” he replied, taking the helmet from her hands without bothering to ask. She pulled her hair back and started twisting it up around itself.

“How are we going to get out of this one? It can’t be cheap to book this place.”

“I’ll talk to him. I certainly don’t want our wedding to be a press extravaganza.” She paused and gave him a significant look, making Garrus realize what he’d just said. “I mean… not our wedding, the wedding–never mind.”

She huffed a laugh and put the helmet back on. “ Uh huh .” The visor didn’t dim the grin she was beaming at him. Garrus offered his arm again and couldn’t quite make himself feel bad about the accidental slip up as they followed Victus outside. 

By the time they made it all the way back to Victus’ office in High Command, Shepard was very nearly limping. Garrus tried to direct her to the nearest chair as soon as they were inside. But she just shook her head and remained standing. Still stubborn, but what else had he expected? At the very least, he took her helmet back from her, tucking it under one arm. 

“So Shepard,” Victus said as he entered the office after conferring with his secretary. The afternoon sun through the tall windowed walls cast a very eager expression on his face. “What are your plans while you’re here?”

She smiled a little and shook her head slightly. “I don’t really have any yet… but by the look on your face, I think you’re about to give me some.”

Victus chuckled, moving to his desk and leaning on the front of it. “Not ‘ give’ necessarily, but I do have several areas that could certainly benefit from your expertise. I could probably even find a few firefights if the Alliance wouldn’t mind us making use of you.”

Victus probably couldn’t tell, but Shepard’s face became very carefully blank. “I…  appreciate the thought. But it’s not possible anymore. Not with my knee.” She shook the leg out and shifted her weight. “Besides that I don’t think the Alliance would mind at all. I haven’t been of real use to them in years.”

Victus frowned. “I don’t understand.”

She hesitated for a moment, eyes moving from him to Garrus and then back. “Permission to speak freely?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back. She wasn’t really asking for permission to speak her mind; she was asking for them to not pass on what she was about to say.

“Of course.”

Her jaw flexed, as if she still wasn’t sure if she should divulge what she was thinking. Then her chin lifted. Decision made. “It was the Alliance Parliament’s idea for me to retire, not mine.”

Garrus and Victus shared a confused glance. Garrus had always assumed that Shepard was the one who sought the separation after the war was over. He’d never dreamed that the Alliance had forced her out.

“Why?” Victus asked, sounding thoroughly mystified. Garrus was wondering the exact same thing. A soldier of Shepard’s caliber, even if not fit for active duty, could be useful in many other ways. And besides that, she’d just saved the entire galaxy.

“If I can be brutally honest for a moment… I think they’re scared of me.” She let out a short breath and turned for the window, as if to admire the view of the base far below. The lines of her shoulders were tense, even through the suit. “They know as well as I do that it would have been far easier to put up a few memorial statues and maybe name a building after me, than to deal with the… inconvenience of my continued existence.”

The detached way she phrased it knocked the breath out of Garrus even as his ire ignited. That supposedly preferential world she painted sounded very bleak indeed to him.

“I can’t entirely blame them,” Shepard continued in the same deadly calm tone. “I know that my name carries far more weight than any one name should in a balanced democratic society. So I make myself scarce, stay on the Citadel, return when they want me to give a speech or cut a ribbon. But the only use the Alliance has had for me in the past four years is as their favorite show pony.” Her gaze shifted, and she met Garrus’ eyes in the reflection of the window. She grimaced. “I apologize, that was more bitter than–”

“No need to apologize for my account, Shepard,” Victus cut her off.

“Or mine,” Garrus added. 

She turned around to look at them now, uncertainty in her brow. “Even still. The Alliance is doing what they think is right… and I can’t fault them for that.”

I can , Garrus silently seethed. The turian in him had to respect her unflagging loyalty for the Alliance even after they’d turned their backs on her time and time again. But the deeply selfish part was outraged. How dare they do this to her, after everything she’d given them. She’d very nearly given the ultimate sacrifice, she would have without hesitation, and it still wasn’t enough for them. He couldn’t stop the irate rumble in his vocal chords, nor did he want to.

“I suppose I can’t blame them either,” Victus said after a moment. He appeared to be thinking about something. “And forgive me for being opportunistic, but their loss could be Palaven’s gain.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You can’t fight anymore, fine. But you are far from useless. I have an entire planet, a whole species that could benefit from your knowledge, Shepard.” Victus stood up and walked around to sit behind his desk, already pulling out a few datapads.

Shepard drifted a step or two closer. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you want, while you’re here, tell me what sector you’d like to work in and we will find a use for you. You are being wasted as a… horse for display.”

Shepard looked like she didn’t quite believe him, but she hadn’t dismissed the idea just yet. “Unless you want me to give lectures on outdated colonial farming techniques that I only half-remember, all I really know is the military.”

Victus smiled wryly. “You’ve come to the right planet then.”

They wound up walking out of Victus’ office a few hours later with Garrus’ arms full of datapads of potential opportunities for Shepard. But thankfully, that was the end of the tour.

Shepard finally got a chance to peruse the pads that night, lounging on one of the couches in their suite in the Primarch’s estate. A delicate line had formed between her brows as she studied the datapad. Garrus was supposedly reading his own documents from the Primarch on the couch across from her, but he found himself instead reading the same sentence again and again as he stewed on Shepard’s revelation. 

The low broil was only interrupted when the alarm on his omnitool went off.

“Time,” he said, setting aside the datapad. Shepard hadn’t looked up, so he went over and removed the ice pack from her elevated knee. “Another round?”

“Hm?” She looked up and noticed him for the first time. “Oh, um.” She flexed the knee slightly. “I think I’m good. Is my–” He held up the brace she was about to ask for, and she smiled. “Thanks.”

He carefully wiped off the condensation from her skin and lifted her leg to slip the bracer around it.

“You okay?” she asked. When he glanced up, she was studying his face carefully.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, trying to shake off the simmering frustration. He pulled the bracer taught. “That too tight?”

“No, it’s perfect.” Her hand cupped his cheek and turned his face to her. “You sure you’re fine?” she asked again, eyes sweeping over his face.

He sighed and sat down on the couch with her. Her hand fell away from his face, but he caught it between his, brushing thumbs across her palm. “Let’s just say it’s no love lost for me with the Alliance these days.” 

“That’s not all of it though,” she said after a moment.

Of course she’d want to get to the root of the issue. He squeezed her fingers and dove in. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It was…” She paused and flexed her jaw. “You were on Palaven at the time, finally seeing your family again. And it wasn’t like there was anything you could do about it, they-they pitched it like it was some big honor. I guess I thought I could save you the trouble.”

He understood her reasoning more than most anyone else would, but deep down it hurt that he hadn’t known. It… it felt like she didn’t trust him enough to tell him. 

“We don’t lie to each other, Jane,” he said simply.

Her old words struck her, and her eyes widened slightly. She squeezed his hand in hers. “You’re right. I’m… I’m sorry.” She heaved a heavy breath.

“I understand why you did… but I… I wish you wouldn’t. I wish we both wouldn’t.”

She nodded. “We’ll work on it.”

Feeling like just holding her hand wasn’t enough, he scooted closer and pulled her in for a hug, resting his head on top of hers. Better, much better.

“Even if the rest of the galaxy walks out on you, I’ll always want you around,” he said into her hair.

He felt her breath hitch in her chest so he just held her tighter. But after a moment, she regained her balance and pulled back enough to smile up at him. It was his favorite smile of hers, warm and gentle and so familiar it felt like home.

“Me too,” she whispered.

Chapter Text

After nearly a decade of working with her, Garrus should really have learned to count on the impossible with Shepard. Even when it came to fitting in with his family. Shepard practically hadn’t stopped smiling since they first arrived in Garrus’ childhood home hours ago. Garrus felt much the same. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to share this with her, for her to see his origins, to meet his family, to like them. Honestly, she fit in better than he would have dared to hoped. Of course she did.

Solana took to her immediately, as he always knew she would. But the real surprise had come from his father. Dad had been warm, hospitable, laughing at old mission stories and sharing his own from C-Sec. 

“So Victus took me down to meet with a few Generals at High Command and it was all settled in about twenty minutes,” Shepard said, leaning back in her chair at the table. “I suppose it’s easy to get your foot in the door when you have the Primarch of Palaven as a reference.”

Dad chuckled. “Even in a meritocracy that helps. When do you start?”

“Tomorrow. Victus certainly doesn’t waste time. I just… I don’t want to repeat what they’re already being told.”

“Eh, that’s part of boot camp,” Sol offered, gesturing with her nearly empty glass. “They tell you the same things a thousand times and eventually something will make it through their fringe.”

“You could always talk about the Reaper War,” Garrus added.

“They just lived through it, they want to hear about it too?”

“They haven’t heard about it from Commander Shepard.”

Dad leaned an elbow on the table. “You know, I have some old training manuals I could lend you. They’re a little outdated, but it’ll give you some framework.”

Shepard’s face brightened. “That’d be perfect, thank you.”

Dad stood and waved her towards the stairs to the lower level of the house. “Here, I think they’re down in the office.” 

Shepard gave Garrus a parting arm-squeeze then jogged after his father. Garrus watched her go, smiling unknowingly. It felt like Shepard had been part of their family for years. It hadn’t been a first meeting dinner, but a reunion.

A highly amused hum from Sol across the table brought his focus back to his sister.

“What?” he asked, a little indignant just on principle.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied in a sing-song voice as she started clearing the table. “Are you going to help or just sit there staring after your intended?”

Garrus stood quickly, glaring down at the dirty dishes. “I wasn’t staring,” he insisted, following after her into the kitchen.

She merely smiled and started the water. It’d been a long time since he and Sol had done the dishes together. Years, maybe even since he started working for C-Sec a lifetime ago. But even after so much time, they both took their old posts and began the familiar routine.

“You’ll never guess who stopped by my office the other day,” Solana said, handing off a sudsy plate.

“Who?”

“Benius Harian.”

Garrus frowned, feeling like the name was just out of reach then he remembered. A gawky, arrogant and dense face flashed in his mind. “Benius Harian, damn. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in years.”

Sol hummed, nonplussed. “He stopped by to see if Dad was free to have dinner with him.”

There was only one reason why the likes of Benius Harian would want a private dinner with their father. Garrus chuckled once. “Should I wish you congratulations?”

She glared back. “I told him just because we had some fun at a club two weeks ago doesn’t mean I’m going to be his mate. He got all puffy and offended and left, thank the spirits.” She shook her head, swishing a glass around in the soapy water. “I miss what things were like before the war.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Everything feels so life and death, casual fun’s illegal. Seems like I’m the only turian our age not on the verge of bonding with the next person who smiles at me.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Can’t say I’m so desperate to be bonded either that I’d take the likes of Benius Harian .”

“Well, of course not. You have Shepard.”

Garrus paused, his words catching up to him. “Oh-uh. Right. Yeah. Exactly,” he said just a second too late.

Sol gave him a weird look. “That’s your lying face,” she said, bluntly.

“I don’t have a lying face.” He turned away from her to tuck the dishes carefully away in the cabinet.

“Garrus.” 

“What?” He turned back to face her, holding now-empty hands wide.

She just looked at him for a long moment, her eyes darting back to the stairs where Dad and Shepard had left. “Is something… wrong?”

“No, of course not.” He ducked out to the dining room again, trying to move his face out of whatever position it was that tipped Sol off and picking up the last of the dishes. She was still giving him a thorough inspection when he returned.

“Do you remember when you broke that asari vase Mom loved so much? And you hid it in your room, as if she wouldn’t notice an empty pedestal in the foyer?”

“What’s your point, Sol?”

“Why don’t you tell me what my point is, Garrus?” She crossed her arms and levelled him a cool stare that was an awful lot like their father’s.

He knew his sister as well as anyone, better maybe. Which was precisely why he knew she wouldn’t give up this idea until he’d owned up to the truth. Liara had known since the beginning, Tali obviously had her own opinions, what was the harm of one more? He checked back over his shoulder to make sure Shepard and Dad weren’t on their way back up.

“You can’t tell anyone, alright? Not even Dad… especially not Dad.”

“Spirits, is Shepard pregnant or something?” Despite her sarcasm, her subvocals buzzed slightly with cautious curiosity and concern.

Garrus took a deep breath and in as few sentences as he could, explained the plan… or perhaps lack of plan between him and Shepard. About half-way through telling, her subvocals dropped off into stony silence, which hung in the air after he finished his abridged but truthful tale.

“Say something, Sol. I know you want to,” he said, turning back to finish the dishes.

“Oh, I want to say many things. Many of which I know you already know. So I’ll pick these two.” She held up one finger. “First, this is the stupidest thing you've ever done and yes, I'm including the time you abandoned your family for two years to get your face blown half off. And two. You're an idiot if you think you're anything less than totally, fringe-over-spurs in love with that woman.”

What? “No, I’m not.”

“You are too.”

He shook his head. “No. She’s Shepard, she’s my best friend, yes–”

“And you trust her and respect her and support her and admire her and you’d really like the rest of your life to have her in it, right?”

“Well… yeah.”

Sol smacked his shoulder, hard enough to knock him back a half-step. “What do you think love is, dummy?”

“Okay, yes, it’s part of that. But there also has to be some sort of physical attraction. At least for me it does.”

She scoffed. “Do you hear your own subvocals when she’s around you?”

“That’s just part of the act–”

“Trust me, you are not that good of a liar,” she said, turning back to the sink.

He blinked several times, annoyance really starting to build now. “I-I think I would know if I’m in love with Shepard. And I’m not. I don’t know why, I just am not. That’s all there is to it.”

She snapped his direction. “So what’s the plan then? You have four weeks till the day you’re supposed to marry the woman you’re ‘not’ in love with. You just gonna make her take that one for the team? Bind her for the rest of her life to a man who claims he’s not in love with her?”

“I’m working on an alternative solution,” he hedged. Distantly he heard the sound of his father’s laughter, they must be on their way back.

“No, you’re not,” Sol said. “You’re just killing time because deep, deep down you want to be Shepard’s bondmate, but you don’t see another path to achieve that besides running out the clock and hoping she shows up to the ceremony. Because you’re in love with her.”

Something Dad said must have been funny as he heard Shepard’s laughter now too at the foot of the stairs.

“You’re crazy,” he hissed, pulling the plug on the sink. “And wrong. I’m nearly there with another plan.”

She shook her head. “I thought you were smarter than this, Garrus. I really did.” 

Garrus sighed and dried his hands, let Sol think what she wanted to think. He knew the truth. Dad and Shepard reached the top of the stairs, chatting amicably and heading for the living room. Something deep in Garrus’ chest both clenched and settled peacefully at the sight.

Sol touched his shoulder, making him look her way. “You’re going to do what you want because that’s what you do. But promise me one thing…” she said, deadly serious. She looked to where Shepard and Dad had gone before looking back at him. “Don’t break her heart.”

“I would never do that,” he replied, meaning each word as deeply as he could.

Sol gave him a long look then turned for the door. “I think you already are.”

Chapter Text

Garrus hurried down the hall of High Command, checking the time on his omnitool. It would be close but he could probably sneak in the back to catch the last few minutes. He paused at the door to the lecture hall, catching his breath then opening it just enough to slip inside. However, once inside, he realized he needn't have bothered. The lecture hall was completely empty. Had he gotten the room wrong? He stepped back out and checked the number on the door. No, he was in the right place. 

“Are you looking for something, Advisor Vakarian?” a wizened voice interrupted his confusion. Garrus turned to find a General who had retired some years back and had come back to the Hierarchy as an instructor, giving him a half-reproachful look.

“I’m… looking for Admiral Shepard,” Garrus replied, suppressing the urge to salute. “I was told she’d be in this hall.”

The General’s stare turned into an all-too-knowing smile. “Come with me,” he said, heading further down the hall. Mystified, Garrus followed the General through the doors and out of the educational building entirely. 

There was a large open field just to the back, useful for training exercises or gatherings. Right then several dozen young turian recruits were being put through some sort of faux battle. It took a minute more before he spotted a flash of red hair amongst the grey and brown fringe of his people. He watched Shepard shout something from the far end of the field and a dozen of the recruits immediately stopped their actions and jumped to attention as she stalked towards them. The cane really added to her gravitas, Garrus thought with a touch of pride.

“I thought she was just going to be giving a lecture to the fledgling recruits?” Garrus asked, watching Shepard effortlessly dress down a Private that was easily half a meter taller than her. 

“She started there, but after about ten minutes she broke the hall out into squads and they’ve been running scenarios and drills all afternoon.”  

Shepard finished with the Private and turned to the rest of the squad, barking a few more orders before sending them back to their endeavors. Garrus knew that expression on her face, even from half a field away. She was proud of them.

“Not the usual way we do things… but it does seem to be working.” The General glanced from the scene to him. “I’d always thought the reports of the Commander to be overstated… I suppose it’s Palaven’s good luck that they were not, now that she’ll soon be joining our ranks.”

Garrus smiled slightly. “Yes, I suppose so.” Or it would be, if she was...

Shepard’s gaze passed over Garrus and the General, and she checked her omnitool before flashing him an apologetic grimace. She raised a hand to her mouth, letting out a shrill and surprisingly loud noise that Garrus wasn’t even sure how she made. Nevertheless, the recruits all stopped and rapidly fell into lines in front of her. 

Garrus crossed the field, the General still in tow, just in time to hear her dismiss the group. The recruits fell out of order, chatting excitedly with each other as they left. Shepard hobbled Garrus’ way a few steps before he closed the distance between them, wrapping an arm around her torso even despite her cane.

“Sorry, lost track of time,” Shepard said with a slight smile. “I hope you didn’t mind me stealing your students for the whole time, General.”

“Of course not, Admiral,” the General replied. “An unusual method of teaching, if ever I saw one.”

“I always preferred training in the field, felt like the lessons stuck more if I had boots on the ground at the time.”

The General hummed, looking back to Garrus. “I suppose we should expect more of the unexpected from the two of you in the future, once you succeed Victus.”

Garrus stiffened and nodded. “Maybe so.”

“Shake ups are good. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, Advisor.” He nodded once more and then headed back to the building. 

It was a short conversation, supportive even. But Garrus found himself disquieted, as always whenever someone brought up his inescapable future. Shepard was studying his face carefully when he looked to her.

“We should get going,” he said, starting back towards the building.

“Are you okay?” Shepard asked.

“H–how’s your knee?”

Her eyes narrowed. Wasn’t like his dodge of the question was very graceful, but they had promised to be more honest just a few days ago. 

“It’s fine…” 

He offered her his arm anyway, which she took after another few seconds of suspicious glaring. Victus wanted to speak with her before they headed out for the day. Luckily, the elevator wasn’t too far of a walk and far more people were leaving the offices at this time of day so the cab was empty as Garrus pressed the button to go up to the top floor.

“You won’t believe some of the questions I got before my lecture today,” Shepard started with an aggravated eye roll.

He looked down at her. “Oh, I can’t wait.”

“A Major Corinthus wanted to know if having me as your mate would make you soft in your foreign policy with Earth.”

Garrus laughed. “I am well-known for my human sympathies.”

She grinned for a moment, shaking her head. “I’m not surprised, but I can’t believe people still care about things like that.” Her face grew serious. “After all the shit we’ve seen, accomplished together?”

“Stubbornness should never be underestimated. There will always be people like that.”

“Best of luck when you’re in office.”

He scoffed. “Yeah. Well. I’m sure I’ll do something to screw it up before I get that far.” He expected the good natured ribbing to continue, that was their long honored tradition after all. 

But Shepard’s silence was the loudest he’d ever heard. He looked at her warbled reflection in the polished steel; her gaze was fixed on him, brows drawn together. 

“What?”

She sighed. “Okay, we need to talk about this.” And she reached out to press the button to stop the elevator. The car bounced slightly, the absence of the gentle whirr of the motors leaving an ominous emptiness.

“Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?” Garrus asked, flicking a mandible in a half smile.

But Shepard hesitated, studying him again. Apparently she was not in the mood for more jokes. “Explain to me exactly why you are so set against being Primarch?”

“What?”

“When you first got the news and got drunk to cope at my apartment, I understood. It’s a big change. But now it’s been months and everytime the subject is brought up, you look like you’re inches away from running off to Omega again.” He recoiled, beginning to stammer out a refutation before she stopped him by resting a hand on his arm. “Just… explain why. I don’t understand.”

Had she stopped the climate control as well as the car? The temperature was growing by the moment. Garrus rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looking away from her. “Because… because it’s a bad idea. It makes no sense.”

“I think it makes a lot of sense,” she replied patiently. “ You are the reason why Cipritine is not just a pile of rubble right now. You were the turian representative on the spear tip against the Reapers.” She raised a hand and shrugged. “Who else are they going to nominate? Everyone else is dead .”

Garrus shook his head. “I don’t care who they find. Anyone is better than me.”

 “Why?”

He was trapped quite literally. So much in him begged to edge away from Shepard’s calm yet piercing gaze. Surely she could see through him at this range, see to the very spirit of him, see what little he truly had to offer.

 “Because–” he began, grappling for more half truths before their promise rose up like a ghost between then. We don’t lie to each other . And the words began to spill forth.

“Because being Primarch isn’t just being emperor or general. The Primarch is supposed to be the example to the rest of the race. The best of the best. And that’s not me. That’s never been me. By all accounts, I’m just a defect who got damn lucky.”

Shepard didn’t reply, but he couldn’t stop himself now if he tried.

“If Saren hadn’t gone rogue and you hadn’t met me during that investigation, I would have ended up a burned out cop. Or gotten fired for being too rash and ended up on Omega anyway.” He’d probably be dead by now, by his best guess on the old paths he’d barely managed to avoid.

Shepard shook her head. “But Saren did go rogue. We did meet, and you were a major force in defeating the Reapers. You’re not who you were when we first met.”

“I’m not not him.”

“You don’t…” She sighed, finally giving him a break from her invasive gaze. “Victus, Sparatus, the generals I’ve spoken with, they all see how good you are at this. I see it too! The only person who doesn’t is you.”

Garrus backed up, leaning against the corner of the car. “Someone like me doesn’t deserve to be Primarch.”

“Maybe it’s not about what you deserve.” 

The words were harsh, but her tone was gentle. Her hand that cupped his unscarred mandible even more so. 

“Most people don’t get advanced warning,” she said, her voice filled with the weight of experience. “Leadership is just dropped into their lap one day. But every one of us gets a choice on how to respond. And a good leader does what’s needed.”

She looked out the glass window at the back of the car, the view of Cipritine at dusk spread out before her. But Garrus couldn’t look away from her face.

“Palaven needs you, Garrus. The old way of doing things isn’t going to accomplish much in this new galaxy. We need fresh ideas to heal the smoldering wrecks of our worlds. We need shake ups, we need defects.”

When she looked back to him, she smiled softly. 

“If you get out of your own way, I think you’re going to do some amazing things, Garrus. I really do.”

Becoming Primarch had felt like a noose tightening around his throat ever since the announcement so many months back. But in one conversation, Shepard had somehow cut the rope.

He chuckled once in disbelief. “How do you… make even this seem possible?”

Her smile turned wry. “There’s no pep talk like a military pep talk.”

“Still. I’ve never met anyone who believes like you do.” He leaned into the cradle of her palm, eyes shutting as he pulled her closer. Her hands landed on his shoulders, squeezing slightly.

“Yes, you have. You’ve met you. We believe in each other. That’s what we’ve always done since the beginning. And I’m not changing course now.”

He pulled her fully into his arms now, wrapping her tightly in a hug. His face nestled into her hair and the rest of the world besides her disappeared for a long peaceful moment. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, not letting her go.

“And even…” Her voice thickened slightly till she pulled it back under control. “Even if I won’t be your wife, I’ll still be around.”

Something in his gut soured for a moment, making him frown and pull back enough to see her face again. 

“I’ll be at your six as much as you want me,” she promised solemnly.

He tucked a few strands of her hair back behind her ear, trying to put a finger on the source of his disquiet. But he came up empty.

“I hope you mean that.”

“I do.”

Chapter Text

Shepard focused on her breathing. Four beats in, seven beats held, eight beats out. Again. Four, seven, eight. Again. Four, seven, eight. And again. Somewhere around the sixth cycle, her heart rate slowed back down to normal levels. She let the counting stop and instinct take over again, hoping that sleep would finally creep in to fill the silence.

And then the hissing began. Quiet at first but it grew louder with every passing second. It wasn’t real. It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not–

Her eyes burst open, inhaling sharp enough to be audible. Her heart was racing again. The dark ceiling of her bedroom stared back at her. Everything was quiet, just the low murmur of the heater kicking on. Her apartment on the Citadel had plenty of air, she reminded herself, feeling foolish that she had to do this at all. There was nothing to worry about. So just go to sleep.

But no sooner had she shut her eyes did the hissing start again. Groaning, she sat up, rubbing harshly over her face. Her gaze drifted to the empty side of the bed. No one besides her had ever slept in this particular bed. But after sharing with Garrus for those weeks on Palaven, it felt strange to sleep alone. Actual rest was so much harder now without him. 

“You junkie,” she muttered to herself, throwing off the blankets and getting up. Shaking out her knee every other step, she padded to the kitchen. A singular light above the island cast a warm pool of light in the otherwise completely dark space. What now?

A walk was out of the question. And sleep was apparently a non-starter, despite how badly she could feel herself needing it in the ache of her joints, the sand beneath her eyelids. That left just one option. 

There was something nearly meditative about the process of making coffee. With the same care that she’d once dedicated to cleaning her rifles, she measured beans, fiddled with the pressure gauges, and set the water to heat to exactly the right temperature. If she couldn’t get a good night’s sleep, at least she could get a good pot of coffee. 

Maybe she could be productive too. Her speech for the Elysium colony re-founding still needed to be written. And lord knew she hadn’t kept up with answering mails when she was on Palaven. Not that there was anything truly important needing her. Not anymore.

That was the other loss after Palaven. She’d only had time to lecture twice before they returned to real life, but they’d been some of her favorite afternoons in… she couldn’t remember how long. But now that she was back on the Citadel, it was radio silent once again. The Alliance certainly had little interest in what she had to say – well, anything beyond pomp & petty flattery whenever they deigned to summon her. …Maybe she should leave the speech for another day.

A quiet ding rang through the apartment and interrupted her petulant train of thought. It took her tired brain a moment to register that the sound wasn’t the kettle going off. It was the elevator door.

Garrus stepped around the corner, lifting a hand in silent greeting. She hadn’t seen him since they’d had to split for cover from the press at the Citadel docks a few days ago. She tried not to notice how her mood immediately lifted.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, smiling softly.

He blew out a long breath and leaned against the counter opposite her, crossing his ankles the same way she was. “Same thing you are, I think.” 

“Surprised you made it through the press moat.”

He shrugged too casually. “Even vultures have to sleep at some point.” His face was mostly shadowed from the single light behind him, but she could still feel his gaze searching her face. “Can’t sleep?”

She shook her head and turned to pull down a second mug as well as a dextro coffee pod, setting it to brew alongside hers. 

“Bad dreams?” 

And missing you , she answered silently . “Yeah…” 

His hands brushed over her hips, startling her for a moment as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against him. She froze. His heart beat against her shoulder. It was definitely a good thing that he couldn’t see her face as she couldn’t stop the agonized smile when he dipped his head down enough to brush his mandible over her cheek. His clean, warm scent surrounded her. Her eyes drifted shut and they just breathed together for several infinite moments. Steaming want and bitter heartbreak swam through her veins, weaving with each other over and over again. 

Fuck. If she couldn’t go a day without him in her bed, how was she going to make a life again without moments like this when the charade was over? She couldn’t let him go even before all this. Now that she knew the feel of his arms around her, the foundation of his steadfast partnership, the taste of his kiss… Addict wasn’t a strong enough word.

The twin coffee machines beeped. Shepard pulled her eyes open to glare at them for breaking the moment. But she didn’t step away. And he didn’t let go.

“Do you want to drink that?” he asked. She could feel the rumble of his voice through his chest. It made her toes curl. “Or would you rather sleep tonight?”

Everything in her ached and not just from exhaustion. “Sleep,” she sighed wistfully.

“Come on then.”

His hand fit around hers and he tugged her away from the kitchen, flipping the lights off as he went.

She couldn’t look away from the back of his head as he led them to her bedroom at the end of the dark hall. Could he feel how her pulse was racing? Did he notice what an outlier this was for them? There was no one to placate, not here, not now. So why was he… A small seedling of cautious hope took root in her chest.

“Garrus…?” 

He let go of her hand, rounding her bed as if this was all perfectly normal. It was, but it also wasn’t. Shepard felt a little hysterical, so much seemed to be hanging in the air. Was he…?

“Are you… sure about this?” she asked, trying to perceive his expression through the darkness. But he was only a Garrus-shaped shadow.

“Course,” he said flippantly. “Bed was too cold without you anyway.”

That seedling withered in her chest. Right. Right . This would stop hurting so much if she could goddamn learn what he’d been making perfectly clear for the entire time she’d known him. They were friends. Nothing more.

She made herself crawl back under the covers and ignore how her senses were awash with awareness of him. 

“Missed your heater, did you?” She nearly matched his casual tone. He didn’t notice, thankfully.

“Desperately.”

His arm reached out, hooking around her again and pulling her flush against him. They shouldn’t have fit so well together. The universe was just twisting the knife now. Stab wound or not, he was solid behind her, his slow breathing a steady metronome. 

“Rest, Jane,” he rumbled, nuzzling into the crown of her head. “I’m here.”

He was here. He could have been anywhere. Instead he was here , tethering her to something safe, to something she knew deeper down than fear that she could trust. It was almost enough to get by with. Almost.

She wove her fingers with his and let her eyes drift close.

One more night. She just needed one more night.

Chapter Text

It sent a rather illicit thrill up Garrus’ spine to be skipping out on work like this. But Victus was still back on Palaven, so everything that could be pushed off had been. One afternoon wouldn’t break the system, he justified. And besides, he still owed Shepard for pausing her life to go all the way to Palaven for a few weeks. And for agreeing to be his fake fiancée. And for a million other things too. His plans wouldn’t even the scales in the slightest, but he hoped she’d enjoy herself all the same.

He managed to shake the press for the time being with some ‘batshit crazy driving’ (Shepard’s words, not his) on the way to his plan. But they still got a few double takes on the short walk from the parking pavilion to the Armax arena. The midday crowd was thinner than usual, but the attendant behind the counter turned fully slack jawed as they approached.

Garrus cleared his throat after letting the young turian have his moment of gawking.

“A-apologies, Vakarian–I mean, sir.” His subvocals cracked. “What can I help you with, sir?”

Shepard turned half away to hide her snickering. At least someone was amused.

“I have a reservation. Private arena.”

The kid started typing furiously on the console. “Yes, sir. And do you want to allow spectators, sir?”

Garrus glanced at Shepard, who shook her head. “Not today.”

He handed him a keycard. “Arena Sigma, sir. Just drop the keycard off at the front when you’re done, sir.”

“At ease,” Shepard offered as they started walking away, making the attendant squeak in his subvocals and look elated. 

A small crowd was ogling in the lobby, but luckily no one else approached them as they entered their reserved arena near the end of the hall. The door hissed shut, shielding them from sneaking photos till the end of the reservation. Garrus let out a quiet breath of relief.

Their footsteps echoed in the large, pale gray room. A console in the wall next to the door waited in idle mode for them to make their game selections.

Shepard let her bag of gear drop to the ground, before stretching her arms above her head. It exposed a strip of her pale skin above her pants and for the few seconds, Garrus couldn’t tear his eyes away. He half-wondered if she had freckles there too. 

“Say what you like, but I maintain that all the bottle shooting contests we’ve had have been fair,” she teased, tugging her shirt back into place before rummaging through her bag.

Garrus shook himself out of his stupor and turned to do the same. “They weren’t all rigged. The first one was fair–”

“Because you won that one.”

“Exactly.” They swapped a smile. “Now you’re getting it.”

With the way the public hounded both of them these days, there was no way they could attempt the old tradition of shooting bottles in the Presidium. Not unless they wanted their mugshots on the front page the next morning. That would be a very painful vidcall with his father to explain why. Armax was a decent substitute, he felt. Thankfully, Shepard agreed.

Garrus strapped on about half his favored silver-blue armor set. With no one’s life really on the line, it seemed a little ridiculous to put on so many extra pounds of plating, especially since the game’s sensors were only on a few areas of the body to begin with. But a few pieces would give him an edge against the VI. 

He turned to see Shepard finishing up with her left greave, the red and white stripe extending from her wrist to her shoulder. Iconic. When she glanced his way and offered a smirk, a strange tension snapped into place in his gut, hot and focused. 

“Can you help me with this?” she asked, pointing to where the pauldrons were supposed to connect to the back plate. “I can’t get it to fasten.”

“Sure.”

She held her hair to the side, exposing the length of her neck. If she was turian, he’d suspect she was being intentionally provocative. But for humans, necks didn’t hold near the same fascination as they did for turians reportedly. Though it took Garrus several seconds to pull his gaze away from Shepard’s. There was one lone freckle right along her hairline that seemed to call to him, to hook somewhere behind his carapace and tug insistently. 

“Is this a new set?” he pulled himself back to the present, pointedly ignoring the freckle and the weird appreciative rumble in his subvocals.

“Yeah, Liara got it for my birthday a few years ago. Haven’t had a chance to use it yet. It’s probably overkill for Armax, but–” She shrugged her shoulders and let her hair swing back down into place, covering the freckle again. “Better than sitting pristine in my weapons locker.”

She’d also only put on a few key pieces. But even still, she looked deadly, a force to be reckoned with. She looked like the Shepard he’d first met so many years ago. That tension tightened even further. He wasn’t sure exactly what would happen if it snapped.

“Are you afraid the bottles are going to rise up and fire back?” he asked, locking her armor into place.

“Aw, come on. We never get to come to Armax together. You’re planning on wasting a state of the art battle arena on target practice?” She grinned up at him. “It could be just like old times,” she cajoled.

That did sound like more fun. But… “Are you sure your knee can handle that?”

Her grin turned sharp, her eyes twinkling. “Afraid I’ll beat you, Vakarian?” 

He laughed. “Now you’ve asked for it.” 

A few keystrokes later, he’d logged them both in. Their high scores were projected at the top of all four walls. Only a few points separated them, Shepard in the lead. For now.

“So what are you feeling? Reapers? Spectres?” he asked, flipping through the options. “We could be nostalgic and do the Collectors.”

Shepard leaned around him. “Let’s go real old school. Do they have geth?”

“No, it was taken off when they reopened after the war because it seemed insensitive.”

She nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“So they don’t have it, but I do.” Garrus activated the hacking interface on his omnitool. “Just give me a second.”

“You have your own illegal Armax Arena set up?”

He glanced her way to see both her eyebrows raised. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not. I’m impressed.”

He smugly turned back to the interface. It was beyond easy to insert the old program into the game set up. The lighting changed, transitioning to glarey and atmospheric. The walls became video screens of some half-destroyed base camp as platforms in the floor began to rise to form half walls, gangways, and bridges. There was movement behind the prefab building shells on the projected walls.

“Standard rules, I assume?” Shepard checked over her sub-machine gun carefully as Garrus picked up his rifle, the grip more familiar than his own palm at this point. “Best two out of three?”

“Yes. And no biotics.”

She scoffed. “Biotics make it fun. You can use your black-sight scope if I can use biotics.”

A critical error on her part, but one he pretended to think over all the same. “Deal.” He shook her hand as the first holographic geth trooper entered the field on the far side.

Shepard chuckled and jogged off to the right, disappearing into the fog that was being pumped into the room. Garrus shouldered his rifle and went the other direction. There was a raised platform he’d spotted that would be perfect for him to set up and do some real carnage.

By the time he got up and settled, Shepard already had three kills on him. She dodged a pyro by throwing herself behind a corner just in time. Once his flame blast expired, she lifted him into the air with a biotic launch. Garrus shot the holograph and got his first points on the board. Shepard’s cry of dismay made him laugh as he lined up his next shot. 

They cleared the field with ease, and there was a momentary pause as the VI recalibrated the difficulty for the both of them. Shepard popped out of her cover to smile in his direction. He gave her a cocky salute back, making her throw back her head in laughter. As he watched her, a memory resurfaced, one of the many fabrications he’d made to keep their fake love story straight with Victus.

“How’d you ask her?”

“At Armax, actually. Booked a private arena so it was just the two of us and had some fun reliving old times. And after all the virtual reapers were dead, I asked her.”

Huh.

***

Shepard could not stop grinning. God, why wasn’t she down at Armax every damn day? Her pulse thrummed, every nerve ending alive and humming as she took down trooper after trooper. Garrus was stealing way more than his fair share of her kills, but for the first few waves, it truly did feel like old times in the best way. Mowing down any who stood in her path, Garrus at her six. It was more natural than breathing.

Of course she wasn’t near in the same shape as she’d been back when she was regularly on the field. That became abundantly clear as the first round really got going. More than once she’d been too slow to properly dodge enemy fire, knocking points off her score each time. But she could do this. She’d done this. She was Commander Fucking Shepard. And no damn holograms were going to stand between her and a petty victory over her fake fiancé.

She gulped down a breath and ducked out of cover, firing at the grouping of shock troopers at the other end of the gangway. She knocked one out, but another one shot back hard enough to drop her shield. Her lungs burned when she flattened behind a new corner, waiting for her shield to regenerate. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck, soaking her shirt. The remaining trooper came around the corner and by sheer luck, her unaimed shot took him out. Had to keep moving, this area wasn’t safe for her to recover in. 

Though as she ducked and hurried to another covered area, her knee gave out a warning shot of pain. Okay, so more running was a bad idea. She slowed to a walk, but didn’t stop. She didn’t have long range weapons like Garrus did. She’d have to wait for enemies to come to her. But as she did, more and more enemies began to flood the field. Even with Garrus taking out as many as he could see, Shepard had to keep conceding ground again and again. 

She was almost out of corners to hide behind when the buzzer sounded for the end of the first round. Eternally grateful, she dropped to the ground, sitting back against a platform and gulping down as much air as she could fit inside her. Her knee kept pace with her pulse, throbbing dully in perfect time.

“Shit,” she whispered, wiping the sweat off her forehead and onto her pants. Right. This was why she wasn’t down at Armax every damn day. She looked up at the scoreboard. Garrus was well on track to match his high score. And she was trailing wildly behind. A fragile, yet abominably heavy feeling sat down between her lungs as she stared at the numbers. It didn’t matter truly; this was supposed to be fun. Yet seeing the cold hard proof of her reality felt like anything but.

“At least Armax knows how to set up a fair battle arena!” Garrus’ voice echoed through the space. He wouldn’t be able to see her, sitting like she was. She rubbed a hand over her face, breaking the staring contest with the scoreboard.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Vakarian. I’m just getting warmed up.” She massaged her knee, willing it to behave itself for two more rounds.

“Take your time. You let me know when you’re ready to play with the big guns.”

She rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to make the all too easy double entendre. “How about we make it more interesting? Loser buys drinks afterwards?”

The buzzer sounded again. Round two was already beginning. The breaks between rounds used to be longer, she thought.

“I’m always happy to let you pick up the tab, Admiral.” A gunshot punctuated the end of his taunt.

Her knee was not happy as she got back up to standing again, and even less so when she pressed forward again. But she’d need the extra space if she was going to be conceding so much ground again.

“Just ten more minutes,” she muttered through gritted teeth, shooting her first trooper. 

But this being the second round, the enemies were tougher. Less pyros and shock troopers, and far more juggernauts and primes. Her same strategy was doing alright for her, limping from cover to cover this time, until the hunters took the field. The first one spotted her as she left her previous corner and pelted straight for her. Goddamn, these guys were the worst.

“ Shit, shit, shit ,” she hissed, hobbling around a corner to break the line of sight. She’d have to time this right. There’d be no room for error.

The moment it stepped around the corner, it evaporated in a spray of fire from her submachine gun. A smile lifted a corner of her mouth. That wasn’t too shabby. But then she turned around to see another hunter already sprinting for her from the opposite direction.

Instinct took over at just the wrong time. It was nearly within range of her, so she vaulted over a wide platform, sliding across the top and dropping down on the other side next to the arena’s wall. 

Something in her knee snapped . Her leg buckled underneath her.

“ FUCK ,” she shouted, dropping to fetal position. She gripped tightly around her thigh. Her vision swam. Pain lashed up and down her leg, burning hot.

At the end of the gangway, the hunter reappeared, gun at the ready. It spotted her and immediately ran straight for her. Seconds till it was within range. There was nowhere to go. She couldn’t move. Shepard watched in frozen horror–

A gunshot blasted through its holographic chest and the hunter evaporated. Garrus stood at the far end of the hall, mandibles dropping open as he finally saw her. Embarrassment seared her face pink.

Fuck.

***

Shepard was hurt. Garrus' stomach plummeted. He immediately pulled out his omnitool and canceled the sim as he ran to her curled form on the ground. She was clawing her way up to sitting against the wall, skin shiny with sweat.

“What happened??” He reached for her, searching her over for blood, but she smacked his arm away.

“I’m fine,” she bit out before grabbing tightly to her thigh and breathing in a forced pattern. 

“ Shepard .”

He knelt next to her but she refused to look at him. Hadn’t they agreed that she wasn’t going to do this anymore? That familiar anger welled up within him, but he held it back. Some of the dampness on her face wasn’t just sweat, running in streaks down her cheek and dribbling off her chin. Something was very wrong.

“It’s my knee,” she admitted after a tense minute. Now that she’d mentioned it, he noticed that her right leg was already starting to swell.

“What happened?”

“I don’t…” She shook her head, glancing at him momentarily. “I landed wrong, that’s all. But I… I need to go to the hospital.”

“I’ll call an ambulance–”

“– No .” She clenched his arm in a death grip before he could open his omnitool. 

“What?”

“Just call a cab.”

He tugged his arm away from her. “Shepard, you’re injured. We’re not waiting for a damn cab.”

“There’s going to be dozens of people in that lobby.” 

“ So? ”

“So call a cab, have it come around the back.” A hardened steel core turned her words into an order. “Now, Garrus!”

“ Fine! ” Frustrated and confused, he ordered the damn cab, scoffing in vindication when he saw the arrival time. “This is ridiculous. It’s not going to be here for twenty minutes.”

When he turned back, Shepard was leaning against the wall, head tipped back and eyes shut. “That’s fine,” she murmured.

The pallor of her face choked the heat out of his anger. He hadn’t seen her that pale in years. It brought up old memories that he’d hoped to never be reminded of. With a sigh, he sat down perpendicular to her and very gently elevated her knee across his lap. It was all he could do while they waited. Uselessness was his least favorite feeling.

“I’m sorry,” she said, making him look at her. “I ruined your plans–”

“I don’t care about the plans; I care about you . Why does it even–” He huffed a harsh breath. “I can call the ambulance now. It’ll still be here before the cab.”

She shook her head, stubbornness tightening her jaw. 

If he was more certain that he could carry her out of here without injuring her further, he’d be tempted to do just that. This went beyond stubborn into just idiocy. Which wasn’t normally like her. He was the one who did the reckless maneuvers, damn anything else. Not her.

“I don’t understand. Why does it matter?” he asked in a quiet voice.

She stared at nothing for a long moment, eternity passing through her exhausted gaze. Then she nodded up to the top of the walls where their scores were displayed. Barely halfway through the second round and he was beating her soundly. If he’d been lucky, he probably could have broken his high score. 

“It’s just a game,” he began.

“It’s not… not about the game.”

Well, now he was confused again.

“I’m not even forty years old yet. By all accounts I still have a century of life ahead of me and…” She nodded back up to her score. “And it’s all going to be downhill from there. I can’t…” She swallowed the end of her sentence and shook her head, rubbing harshly at one of her cheeks. “Never mind.” 

“Shepard– who cares… The fact that you’re still here–”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. Even if you’re not, I’m grateful that the Reapers only succeeded at killing you once.”

“ I know . It’s a goddamn miracle, I know.” She pulled off her glove with her teeth, tossing it to the side. “And I am grateful, for the record. I am. But it’s just…”

She trailed off again, wrenching more of her armor off. He grabbed her hand, making her stop and look at him.

“Just what?” he prompted.

She attempted to pull her hand out of his but he didn’t let her go. Even if they had to sit here glaring till the cab arrived he wasn’t going to let her just leave this unfinished. At least she wasn’t in so much pain that she couldn’t get annoyed at him. That was a small victory.

Finally, she relented. “Alenko’s still a Spectre. Liara’s the Shadow-Broker. You and Tali and Wrex are the leaders of your entire races now. And I’m just…” She glanced up to the scores again. 

“What about teaching?” he asked, brows furrowing. “You taught those recruits so much in just a few afternoons.”

“You seriously think Palaven will still have me when they find out that we’re not actually going to be mates?” 

Her voice was flat, expressionless. But he still winced. 

“Then…” He floundered for a solution. “Then I’ll make them have you. Whether they like it or not.”

That at least made a breath of a chuckle escape her nose.

“There has never once been a picture published of me with my cane. Never.” She adjusted how she was sitting, face scrunching in pain. “The galaxy wants Commander Shepard, scourge of the Reapers… they don't want Jane Shepard, disabled veteran.”

The words sat between them, ugly and bitter yet tainted in truth. He hated them. But he had no solution.

Desperate, Garrus took over where he’d stopped Shepard in removing pieces of her armor. It wouldn’t fix anything even a little bit. But it felt better than just sitting here. She docilely let him finish with the first arm and then switch to the other, taking off her N7 stripe piece by piece. 

The scent of her washed over him as he pulled the chest plate off. It felt more like home than anything on Palaven ever had. He helped her lean forward to pull away the back plate too. Unarmored, she looked smaller, gentle curves and soft skin starred with freckles, but no less important.

“ Fuck the galaxy,” he finally said, his subvocals roiling with strong emotion. 

She hummed in reply. “Now is that an official stance as Primarch or just a slogan?”

“Look, I’m not as good at speeches as you, but…” He struggled to put words to it, neatly nesting her armor as he strained. 

She mattered . She mattered so much there weren’t words for it. She was the fixed point the rest of his world justified to. Without her… The idea of facing a galaxy without her in it was a type of devastating that he didn’t think he could bear. Not again.

“You’re still wanted. Even if it’s just me. I want you.” Her face screwed up as if her pain suddenly spiked. He took her hand in his, giving her something to clench down on to ease it. But her grip was gentle on him, her palm warm against his. “I will always want you around.”

She nodded a few times, her expression still drawn and tight. Her eyes weren’t meeting his. 

“Jane…” he said, achingly soft.

She met his gaze, everything disappearing except for forest green and depthless black. It was like there was something right there. Huge and opaque and staring him right in the face. It was a centrifugal force, drawing him into her orbit from the moment he first saw her, through hell and death and galaxy’s end.

Then his omnitool beeped with the alert that the cab would be there in a few minutes. Disappointment percolated in the air, but he wasn’t sure who it belonged to, him or her. Quickly, he packed up their gear and helped Shepard hobble up to one standing on one foot. Even half carrying her, they weren’t going anywhere fast.

The moment the door opened, the anticipatory buzz of a large crowd in the lobby met them. Shepard stiffened. They’d be the center stage for the agonizing twenty feet to the back fire exit. It didn’t matter what anyone thought, but like hell was he going to make her suffer scrutiny a moment longer than she had to.

“Hold on,” Garrus said, letting go of her for a moment to strap both their bags around his torso. “Can I carry you?”

She nodded. He picked her up with one arm around her upper chest and the other around her thighs, holding her snugly against his carapace. It wasn’t elegant, but it didn’t jostle her knee and he could move quickly. She tucked her head against his neck, and he carried her to safety.

Chapter Text

Shepard’s injury was acute enough to qualify her for a surgical solution. Outpatient, thankfully. But she needed someone to take her home from the hospital. Garrus immediately volunteered, of course, and the medical staff referred to him as ‘Mr. Shepard’ till they left.

He was expecting a bit of a tussle if Shepard tried to get him to leave her alone. He’d have the upper hand this time as she was still fighting off her sedation. But surprisingly, she didn’t fight him at all. She instead immediately fell asleep as soon as he helped her into bed. Still, it counted as a small victory.

Which he lost as soon as she woke up a few hours later and firmly told him to leave. He gave her space for the rest of the day, resolving to return the next day. Which he did, later in the morning, wading through the press to get to her front door.

It looked like a windstorm had blown through Shepard’s living room. Blankets and datapads were scattered about between discarded cups and mugs and bowls. A crutch was upside down in a chair. 

He’d only been gone a few hours, how did one injured human create this much mess? Somewhere deeper in the apartment, Garrus could hear Shepard snoring. That was good at least. He set down his bag of supplies and set about putting her living space back to rights, and the kitchen quickly after. 

When he returned from taking the trash out, he found Shepard, standing at the end of the hallway, leaning heavily on one crutch, and surveying the clean living room with a confused expression. Her glassy gaze drifted in his direction.

“Garrus?” she asked, like she wasn’t quite sure she believed what she was seeing.

“Hey. Sit down, you shouldn’t be standing.” Garrus flashed her a smile and headed to the kitchen to wash his hands. When he returned, she’d at least propped herself against the back of the couch and was frowning down at the bags he’d left in the entry.

“Why are you here?” she asked slowly, her voice groggy around the edges.

“You’re recovering from surgery.”

“Small surgery.”

“Still.” He tried to read her thoughts, which he was never very good at outside of battle. Her gaze was slightly unfocused, her normally proud posture sloping. “I brought you things to make you feel better.”

She blinked once, twice. “Oh… you didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I wanted to. It’s half my fault you’re injured to begin with.”

Her smile wavered, but was there. “Well, thank you.”

Garrus grabbed the bag and set it on the coffee table. “I hope I got what can help; my research wasn’t very clear,” he said, frowning down at the contents.

Shepard eased onto the couch and propped her bandaged leg on the cushions next to her with a groan. “Sure you did fine…”

She was obviously miserable, hopefully he could do something to alleviate at least some of that. “It said that humans like soup when they’re sick, but it didn’t say what kind… so I got all of them just in case.” That was what took up most of the room in the bag. Shepard propped her head up enough to see him stacking cans, a sideways smile on her face. It brightened further as he pulled out a bouquet of red roses and set them in her lap. “And it also said that humans like to bring flowers to people who are sick, so I got these too.”

“Usually that’s for someone in the hospital, but they’re beautiful.” She cupped a bloom and traced a thumb over the petals. “Thank you.” 

“Are you running a fever?” He rested his palm on her forehead. She was always warm so perhaps he wouldn’t be able to tell. He cupped her cheeks and wound up holding her head in his hands as her eyes drifted shut.

“‘M not that kind of sick,” she mumbled.

“But you’re not acting like yourself.”

“That would be the pain medicine. ‘S good stuff.” She hummed and pulled back, shivering slightly. “Your hands’re cold. You’re always chilly and yet you complained whenever we went somewhere chilly. Why’s that?”

“You should probably go back to bed.”

“Buy me dinner first,” she snickered but didn’t make any other movement to follow his direction.

“I’ve bought you lots of dinners.”

“And I’m still unbedded.”

Now she was truly making zero sense.

“Come on.” An arm behind her back and the other under her knees, he lifted her from the couch with ease. 

She groaned and rested her head on his shoulder. “Show off.”

“I am a sniper after all.”

Despite her pain and inebriation, she laughed slightly. He carried her back to her bedroom, finding that the same windstorm of destruction had blown through there as well. He carefully placed her back into her bed, tucking the blankets back over her.

“Hey,” she said, catching his cheek in her palm and bringing his gaze to her face. Her eyes had that slightly unfocused look that usually came after several drinks, but her expression was deadly serious. “Hey. You’re my best friend, you know.”

He nodded and covered her hand with his. “I do know. And you’re mine.”

“You mean so much to me…” She sniffled and let her hand drop. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he promised solemnly. “I’m with you till the end of the line, remember?”

Her eyebrows pulled together. “Didn’t we reach the end of the line a long time ago?”

“No, it’s still ahead of us yet.” Without thinking about it, he leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Stay here,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, mocking his serious tone with a small salute.

Quickly, he cleared away the worst of the mess in her room before scouring the rest of her apartment for supplies. Water, the ‘good’ pain medicine, extra blankets, that datapad with the Normandy flight sim she was so terrible at, her favorite set of sleeping clothes–anything so she didn’t have to get up for the next long while. 

“Do you still have–” He stopped as he returned to her bedroom, arms full of supplies.

Shepard had fallen asleep in the short time he’d been gone, her head lolling to one side and a prodigiously loud snore coming from her chest. He smiled a little and set up the supplies he’d gathered as silently as he could around her within reach for when she woke up.

 He surveyed his set up, satisfied that she’d have everything she needed. Though he’d probably stop by again tomorrow, just to double check. Make sure she didn’t need anything else, or to see a doctor. For a moment, he sat next to her and watched her sleep, subvocals humming softly in a register he’d never felt them in before. 

Though he’d been sharing her bed for the past few weeks, watching her sleep now, an old memory drifted to the surface.

The acrid smell of disinfectant singed the inside of his nose as he pelted through the hospital wing. The rest of the crew was just behind him. Hackett had given his assurances as soon as they passed into the system the day before, but Garrus needed proof. Visual, physical confirmation. Nothing less would alleviate the pressing burden in his chest he’d carried since she ran off from him towards the beacon of the Citadel.

The room was at the farthest end of the hall. He stopped at the closed door, memorizing the wooden veneer and the brush of the metal handle under his palm as he opened it. The blinds were shut, casting the small room in solemn shadow. A single bed against the far wall, surrounded with a forest of monitors, each quietly beeping and hissing with continued life. He stepped closer, dreading and needing in equal parts. 

Shepard looked so small, fragile. Never before would he have ever thought to apply those words to her. But her cheeks were drawn and pale where they weren’t covered in bandages or new scars. Tubes connected to her nose, her chest, her mouth, her hand, so many he wasn’t sure what they could all be for. Strangely, it was the fact that her eyes were shut that gave him the most pause.

Cautiously, he hooked a finger under her palm, cradling it in his hand. It felt like she was one wrong breath from shattering irreparably. But for now… miraculously, unbelievably, thankfully she was here. 

“We both made it out alive, Shepard,” he said quietly, running his thumb delicately over her knuckles and hoping somehow she could hear him. “I’m going to hold you to that rematch.”

Maybe it was just a reflex, or pure coincidence, but her fingers flexed ever so slightly as if in acknowledgment. The burden in his chest evaporated, sending a small keen up the back of his throat that he couldn’t stop. They hadn’t reached the end of the line yet. And if the Reapers couldn’t stop them, then there was no force in the universe that could keep him from being with her when they faced it.

A small noise from Tali behind him brought Garrus out of his thoughts, realizing that the rest of the team was hovering in the door, also waiting to see their Commander. Right… He offered Tali a sheepish flick of a mandible and gently squeezed Shepard’s hand one last time before stepping back.

The memory faded as he hooked his fingers under hers, squeezing them gently. He smoothed a few stray hairs out of her shut eyes, fingers tracing over the pale freckles dusting her cheeks. And something dawned over him as he watched her sleep. A quiet realization, silent but sure and more real than anything else in the whole galaxy.

It was her. It had been her all along.

All breath leaked out of him as he marveled at the truth that had been so obvious for so long. He was in love with Shepard, utterly, completely, absolutely. Subvocals kicked up into giddy registers as elation swept through him. Of course, of course! He was in love with Shepard .

Deep asleep and completely unaware of the life-changing realizations happening right next to her, Shepard curled up on her side, her left hand coming to rest over top of the one he was still holding. Spirits, though she was beautiful, peaceful finally, her hair twisted and splayed across the pillow, his ring on her fourth finger.

Unable to tear his eyes away, a second realization immediately followed, turning his joy sour on his tongue. He loved Shepard with everything he was, he wanted to spend the rest of his life as her mate, and he’d gotten here in the worst possible way.

Oh Spirits… what had he done?