## Preface

In Your Arms
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/42603744.

Rating:
  Mature
Archive Warning:
  No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
  F/M
Fandom:
  Mass Effect Trilogy
Relationship:
  Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Characters:
  Female Shepard (Mass Effect), Garrus Vakarian, Nihlus Kryik, Kasumi Goto, James Vega, Castis Vakarian, Garrus Vakarian's Mother, Solana Vakarian
Additional Tags:
  Best Friends, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Fluff and Smut, Banter, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor
Language:
  English
Series:
  Part 5 of The Cases of Shepard and Vakarian
Stats:
  Published: 2022-10-24 Updated: 2025-10-03 Words: 97,638 Chapters: 16/23

# In Your Arms

by dispatchwithlove

Summary

> From moment to moment Jane felt their relationship shifting, at one they were best friends and the next something more. It reminded her of those old toys with a bird on one side and its enclosure the other and if you spun it quick enough the two images blurred and merged. As she and Garrus spun on the dance floor, their relationship, in all its aspects, blurred until there was no distinction between the edges of one thing and the other, it was just her and Garrus, together.

Notes

> This fic was previously titled The Boy. It's the same fic, all that's changing is the title. Thank you for putting up with my chaotic choices 😁

## Eyes

Chapter Summary

> Jane and Garrus get a new case, and Jane tries to take a step forward.

Chapter Notes

> A big thanks to my writing group members for the constant support, you guys rock ❤️

> Songs I had on Loop: Everything’s Embarrassing and Stereo, Sky Ferreira, and Meeting Again, Max Richter

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Uncertainty was a late arrival in Jane’s life, but once it wiggled its way in, it sure as hell took hold. She never doubted herself, not really, until her work became too tied to her heart and her brain filled with sentimentality instead of queries that would solve cases. Then there was her best friend… and, well, Garrus had become tied to her everything. Heart and mind and lungs and desire.

The dull aches and thrumming needs still existed, but somehow most were outweighed by radiant moments filled with laughs and smiles.

A notification popped up on her omni-tool. Her C-Sec banquet dress had been delivered. Only a week away.

Jane rolled her stress-tight shoulders and stared out the windshield. Rain from the artificial weather system beaded on the glass as Garrus drove them through the human-developed neighborhood of Eden Glen. Garrus’s mandibles clicked tight against his jawline as he maneuvered through traffic. Knowing he was about to turn into an adorable grump, the corner of her lip curled up.

“Ground’s gonna be muddy,” Garrus drawled. “Better cancel your dinner reservations.” He looked at her, waiting for a smile she couldn’t force.

Jane kneaded her lips into a sharp line, pain spiking for just a moment before she let up. What he said was a joke, because as far as he knew at that moment they’d be staying up late sifting through evidence. As far as he knew, she’d be going home to watch reruns of dumb shows. She’d avoided telling him about her plans all day, and the time racing by had only intensified her unease. Lying wasn’t an option, though, as much as she wished she could.

But the truth…

They’d been doing so well. A month of agony after dancing in her kitchen, followed by a month of slowly regaining their strong friendship after that, and things finally felt good between them again.

So why the hell did she have to go and ruin it by letting her lingering loneliness lead her to a terrible decision.

“I have a date, actually,” Jane finally replied, trying to wash all emotion from her voice. She should have been looking forward to it because she hadn't been on a date in...hell, it was before she got shot. Two years, then. But for so many reasons, she wasn't. Well, maybe just one reason. As big as a seven-foot turian and as beautiful as the brightest morning.

Garrus’s strong hands tightened on the wheel. “You didn’t tell me,” he said, and his voice was quiet, like a soft, secret footfall down a dark hall in the middle of the night. The surprise he was trying to hide was reasonable, they were best friends and talked about everything. What was unreasonable was her need to hide her date from him. Secrecy was becoming normal now, too. Uncertainty and hiding seemed to be amazing partners. As amazing as her and Garrus.

“I only met him last night.” She shifted in her seat, trying to stave off the need to burrow and hide, or fidget her hands.

Garrus nodded. Silence fell between them, shadows cast in between street lights crawling across the skycar interior, across her hands, across Garrus’s face. Most of the time she knew exactly how he felt, what he thought. Then there were moments like this, when he seemed as unfamiliar as a stranger.

As they turned down a well-lit street a honey-toned light washed over them. The neighborhood, Eden Glen, was fairly new, built up in the last decade, mostly occupied by humans working in Alliance Administration and the wealthy investors eager to reap the profits of intergalactic trade. Rich humans with money to burn.

Large houses, by Citadel standards at least, sprawled on for blocks behind meticulous yards of lawns and trees from Earth. The result was a carefully manufactured, familiar appearance. If Jane forgot for a moment she was in space, she would have guessed they were driving through an ungodly expensive neighborhood outside San Francisco or Chicago. Back on Earth, she would be jealous driving through neighborhoods that looked like Eden Glen. Out here, it just made her miss her grandparents’ cozy bungalow. Northern California would be rainy this time of year, too.

She’d be back home in two weeks, and she’d never needed the comfort of her childhood home, and her Papa and Gran, so much.

The houses they passed were right across the street from the park. A view of thick woods and a babbling stream on a space station wasn’t cheap. Jane felt a bit cheated not knowing a place like this existed on the Citadel. If she had, she would’ve insisted on coming out here before. With closed eyes and a smile on her face, she would’ve taken in deep breaths of pine and rain.

“Maybe I need to get into Alliance Administration,” Garrus said, surveying the houses they rolled by.

Jane scoffed. “These humans, the ones who live here, would sell their children to buy a little respect from the council races.”

Garrus gave her a sideways glance. “Well you’re being pessimistic today. That’s usually my job, but I have to say you”— his voice slowed, like he wanted to stifle the words but they were already out— “look better wearing it.”

Whether he was upset that she kept something from him, or felt self-conscious saying something like that before she was about to go on a date, she wasn't sure. She forced a chuckle out, more of an apology — for what, she wasn’t certain — than a genuine response.

Flashing crimson and violet lights atop C-Sec vehicles caught their attention and guided their way. Garrus popped on the lights of their own vehicle and maneuvered past an outer perimeter of barriers then down a path wide enough for one skycar, but no more, slowly weaving through tall pines to join the scene. C-Sec officers and Forensics came in to view milling about — many of them waiting for the self-important detectives to make a grand entrance like heroes disembarking to save the day.

That’s what they saw. And yet, she couldn't stop chewing at her lips like an anxious kid.

“I hate rain,” Garrus grumbled as they climbed out of the skycar.

It wasn’t raining that much, just a light mist, but Jane’s hair already hung heavy with it, and when she slipped her hand through to give it a good ruffle, her fingers slid across damp strands. “It calms humans. Makes us feel more at home, like on Earth.”

“Take a shower if you want to get wet,” he said, drawing up the hood of his jacket.

His rumbly voice and bright eyes peeking from under the hood gave her a genuine grin. “Not quite the same.”

They started walking towards the scene, Garrus already giving the artificial sky above them threatening glances. “Does it rain like this in Millville?” he asked.

She nodded. “Worse. It’s like one long, wet shower. All winter long.”

His look of horror tickled her.

They reached the inner perimeter of barriers, offering their badges to the officers standing duty, when the croaking whistle of a salarian caught Jane’s attention. Mordin stood near the body, already focused back on his datapad and typing furiously. They knew it was an unidentified minor, male, but he looked smaller than she expected lying in a foot of mud amongst trees tall as skyscrapers.

Solus’s large, friendly eyes and warm smile lifted her spirits a bit. The earth squelched under their feet as they approached the culvert where the body lay nestled in mud and grass. In the short distance from the car to the body, a thick layer of muck had built up on her and Garrus’s boots.

The boy was small, pale, and he stared up at the artificial night sky. He wore a crisp white button-up shirt, mud only encroaching up from his backside, and one arm lay across his stomach. Those were the only details Jane gathered before she averted her gaze.

“Think he was already in the park, or did they dump him here?” she asked.

Avoiding the inevitable task of examining the boy, she instead watched Garrus’s sharp eyes travel along the body. “Shoes are nice. No noticeable scuffs. No mud built up from walking through the soaked terrain. Dumped, definitely,” he muttered.

Jane looked over to the officer that had first arrived on scene, a female turian named Alvinia Regitus. Jane suspected Officer Regitus hated her, based solely on the constant look of disdain on her face whenever they spoke — but she had no idea what she’d done to deserve it. Everyone else always got a warm smile from the woman. “Any tracks?” Jane asked, ignoring Regitus’s sour face.

Regitus shook her head. “No suspect tracks and no victim tracks. We do have disturbed grass from skycar thrusters though.” Regitus pointed just behind them where Forensics were quick at work scanning ground sectioned off with barriers. It was so close the blue-hued barrier light fell over Jane’s and Garrus’s black boots.

Jane turned her attention back to the body. If she didn’t suck up her nerve Garrus would be doing all the work on this one. She forced herself to finally look at the boy and examine the scene, slowly drifting from one detail to the next. A kid. A young, cute, dead kid.

All of Garrus’s assessments were spot on – he was definitely dumped. She scanned the ground around the boy, then slowly the ground out in concentric waves until she saw the grass that had been disturbed by thrusters, about six feet from the boy. “No tracks and the thruster damaged ground is close. They pulled into the park and pushed the body out, then. Either they were in a hurry or didn’t want to get dirty.”

Garrus hummed in agreement, his eyes flicking over every inch of the body. “Looks like a rich kid from this neighborhood. Why would they pull up in a skycar to dump him here?”

“Maybe they’re not from here,” Jane speculated, looking from the street lined in amber lights, to the meandering footpath, to the dark trees around them that provided a fair amount of cover. “Giving him a ride from somewhere else, but something happened? Or they picked him up here, killed him, and dumped him before leaving?”

Garrus nodded, then asked Regitus, “Anything else?”

She shrugged, looking noticeably chipper now that Garrus was addressing her instead of Jane. “Nothing yet.” She excused herself with a quick tip of her head, quickly walking towards the forensics team who were huddled under a small pop-up tent, their gear splayed out on tables.

Jane watched her leave and as soon as she was out of earshot asked Garrus, “Seriously, why does she hate me?” He’d always laughed it off, told her she was imagining it, but Jane knew better — the woman despised her.

“You really want to know?” His sharp eyes diligently took in the scene before he paused to look at her, his expression grave.

Her muscles went rigid. “Yes, please.”

“It’s the freckles. Some turians just hate freckles.” His mandibles flexed into a smartass grin that always made her happy, regardless of how annoying he was being.

She groaned. “Fuck off.” Her words were sharp and tone annoyed, but she couldn’t hide the grin his teasing gave her.

Looking back down at the body, he shrugged. “Don’t be mad at me. I like your freckles.”

Why did she have to go on a stupid date that night? She’d much rather just go back to her apartment and eat take-out with Garrus.

Which is exactly why she needed to go on the date, whether she liked it or not.

Jane sucked up her resolve to get the worst of this over with, and looked at the kid's face. He was young, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Minor laceration at his brow. His features were soft and kind. Just a rich kid that probably only ever worried about his grades and the person sitting next to him. He would have had a crush on them — boys always had crushes on the people they sat next to. She knew that his gray eyes had once been bright and trusting. Now dulled by death, they looked up to the spiral of treetops overhead.

She was slipping into a terrible habit she’d been trying to drop for months, but she could never quite shake the impulse. At a scene, staring at the body, she would imagine the victim’s last moments. What did this boy last see? Was it his killer’s face? Was it the sky, or trees, or the inside of the skycar? She imagined his poor, kind eyes focused on the material of the skycar seat, his face violently smashed into the surface.

She found herself thinking about that a lot lately, even old cases that were solved and she’d moved on from — what was the last image the victim’s eyes took in? She still hadn’t decided whether it would be better to see something happy, or something bleak and terrifying — something that told them exactly what was about to happen to them. Her heart clenched, and a knot balled up in her stomach.

Staring at the boy, she thought that out of those two options, seeing something beautiful as they took their last breath had to be worse. The sadness that tightened her throat and made her shoulders feel heavy was more intense, at least, when she thought of their eyes settling on something that would make them miss being alive. Why tempt them with beauty, or hope?

“What’s that in the grass over there?” Garrus’s deep, easing voice interrupted her distracted thoughts, finally allowing her to peel her eyes away from the boy’s. Garrus stood just a few feet from her, rain dripping down from the tips of his fringe – he looked absolutely miserable. Maybe she should cancel her date? Take Garrus back to her place and turn the fireplace on for him.

“Where?” Regitus called back.

Garrus pointed over to a concrete wall’s ledge, just over his height, a slightly sloped hill of grass contained behind. The culvert protruded at the bottom of the wall. They were lucky the body was found so early. Any later and water might have come gushing out, washing evidence away. “Something’s in the grass.” He flashed a light from his omni-tool in the direction, and sure enough, a glare reflected off something nestled in amongst green, rain-sogged blades of natural grasses.

Jane and Garrus walked over to the wall together. Without a word between them, he placed familiar hands on her hips and lifted her up to get a better look. She took her omni-tool out, stable in his tight grip, and began to take pictures.

“Mother fucker. Looks like a watch.” She turned to Regitus. “We need Forensics over here. We’ve got a watch. Looks like some blood on it, too.”

“A watch?” Garrus asked, curiosity in his voice. “An actual watch?”

All the utilitarian purpose of watches had died out centuries ago. Now they were purely fashion pieces, and only a certain type of person found them in style. Strange. And damn good evidence, hopefully.

She slid out of Garrus’s grip as he lowered her back down to stand on her own feet. Side by side, they carefully walked back to the body. Mordin had been busy when they first arrived, but he stood waiting for them now.

“Strangulation could be cause of death,” he began. “Hemorrhaging along the throat, but will have full story for you after autopsy.”

“You think they did more than just strangle him?” Garrus asked Jane. “His clothes are neat, orderly. Perfect even.”

“Too perfect,” Jane added. “What’s the likelihood his shirt would be straight, buttoned, and tucked in after being strangled?”

“Anything else?” Garrus’s mandibles drew tight as he spoke. He wiped a hand over his fringe, flinging droplets off.

“Bruising on both wrists.” Mordin motioned towards the kid’s wrists, slightly peeking out from the long sleeves covering his arms. “Light cylindrical reddening of skin around the jaw. Probably finger marks from holding head still. Come see me after autopsy. Will know more.”

Garrus’s eyes roamed over the whole scene once more as Jane nodded solemnly.

An hour and a half later, and Jane and Garrus stood, their hoods drawn low, huddled so closely that the steam from their breath drifted out into one unified cloud. They’d spent that time mulling over pieces of evidence that popped up, throwing ideas back and forth. It looked like the team had found all the evidence they would that night, and the coroner was about to pick up the boy.

“So this date of yours…” Garrus stopped there to let out a huff, pulling his hood down even tighter. A shiver rolled through him, then he rolled his neck.

Despite the sympathy she felt for him, she nearly groaned when he brought up the date again, though. She peeked out from under her hood. “You know, you’re more interested in this than I am.”

“I’m eating take-out tonight and going over evidence. Your plans are more exciting. Clearly.”

“I’d rather be doing that,” she grumbled.

“Vakarian” Regitus finally called over, interrupting their conversation. “They’re done and the coroner’s just pulled up, you’re good to go.”

His eyes, the most comforting thing she had on this station, warmed as they traveled across her face. She couldn’t help but think he was trying to glean something from her demeanor — maybe guess what she was thinking. “Thought I’d get your mind off this case while we wait around. Talk about something more pleasant,” Garrus said.

She ignored him. As odd and horrible as it was, to her, she dreaded the date more than being at a scene. She rubbed at her eyes then looked up at the sky above them, thick with clouds. Aching for the comfort of home, she found herself wishing they were real clouds, not an image. Her legs bounced anxiously, and despite not being cold, she wrapped her arms around herself.

She could cancel, it wasn’t too late. She could invite Garrus over instead.

🔪🔪🔪

With a heart that he just now allowed to start aching, Garrus watched Jane. Her lips were tight. And he knew her eyes hadn’t looked that tired when they got in the skycar to head over here. She needed a break. She needed a little bit of happiness and levity.

He supposed the date would give her that.

Her gaze landed on his, and it felt like he was falling. Those green eyes, no longer sparkling with starshine, pulled him in closer — at least he felt closer to her, even if he hadn’t moved an inch. It looked like she was aching to tell him something. But she didn’t say a word. It was just like so many other confusing moments between them. Too loud despite the silence. Too intimate despite the distance.

As the moment between them stretched he almost convinced himself to just ask her to skip her date. She couldn't really want to go, she looked miserable and hadn’t said more than a few words about it.

No, that was his selfish heart talking. Of course she wanted to go, or she wouldn’t be. No one ever made Jane do anything, except Jane herself.

“You ok?” Garrus nudged the toe of her boot with his own.

Her lips twisted and she bit down. “Aren’t you sick of seeing dead kids?”

“Yeah, but I’m not quite ready to take on the riveting world of investor fraud,” he drawled, tilting his chin toward the skycar, guiding her with a hand pressed to her elbow. Not on her hip, not on her back. In an hour she’d be sitting at a table with some other guy. “Come on, let’s get you home and ready for that hot date.”

He watched her eyes as they made their way through the thickening muck and back to their skycar, hoping to see them spark back to life as they got further and further away from the scene. On the way over they had been bright and happy as she told him about a comedy vid she’d watched the night before. A krogan and a turian had to team up to save a colony from batarian raiders. It sounded terrible, and she loved it. He wished he had been there to watch it with her, but their nights together had become less frequent. Probably for the better. It gave her more time for other things, like dates with…whoever this guy was. When did she even meet him?

They climbed into the skycar and were soon traveling at a slow pace back to the academy. His eyes focused on cars zipping by, he asked, “So, who is this guy?”

She looked over at him, a suspicious eyebrow quirked up. “Why?”

“I need to know something about him. What if he abducts you? I’d rather find your mangled body before it reeks.”

She chuckled, and a bit of light sparked in her eyes. “You’re an ass. I popped a krogan’s plate off, you think I can’t take some creep?”

“There’s sickos out there, you never know what they might pull.”

“Stop trying to scare me.”

“Someone needs to know what you’re doing. Have you told Miranda?”

Her silence was a clear answer — no, she hadn’t. He gave her a look. She knew better.

She rolled her eyes. “I met him at the grocery store around the corner from my apartment. He’s a Council Spectre. His name is Kaiden Alenko. He has a dog that his sister takes care of when he’s on missions. And he likes Italian food,” she recited as if she was going over the details of a case.

“What’s he like? Self-assured, maverick type?”

She snorted. “I had to ask him, actually. He just kept hovering around, talking about random crap. I knew he wanted to ask me, but he couldn’t get up the nerve to say something, so I did it for him. Seems pretty straight-laced, though. I don't know.” The fact that she sounded bored shouldn’t have filled him with so much hope, but it did. Hope for what, though? That she’d realize he was the only one for her, that they belonged together?

“Ouch, no quad. Must be good-looking then?” His throat tightened when he said that. Acting like this didn't bother him turned his stomach. But what was he supposed to do? Ask her to spend the rest of her life wasting her nights with him when she could find someone who would make her happy?

“Why do you care?”

“I need a physical description. For the APB. Please don’t make it hard for me to find your murderer, Jane. I’ll be emotionally distraught so it’ll be hard enough.”

“He’s about my height—”

“So, short.”

“5’8” is pretty tall for human women.”

“But not men.”

“No,” she said. “But they’re all short compared to you. Most turians are shorter than you.” As Garrus maneuvered into the right lane, nearing the academy, she said, “Black hair. Medium build.”

“Eyes?” he asked.

He pulled into a stall and they climbed out of the skycar as she thought, then said, “I don’t really remember anything else about him.”

“Hmm, great sign. He really made an impression on you then,” he teased.

“I’m pretty sure that’s how people end up meeting their spouse,” she argued, and it was nearly convincing. “It’s the ones that give you butterflies that end up burning bright, and burning out, right?”

“Sure. Every time I ask a happy couple how they met they answer ‘No clue, can’t remember a thing about it’.”

When he gave her a smug grin she shoved him with her elbow and they chuckled. Selfishly, he’d been upset ever since she said she had a date. What the hell was he supposed to do? Just go home? Eat by himself? While his best friend and the woman who made his galaxy spin sat at a restaurant with someone else?

They inhaled deep breaths together, watching each other. Silence stretching. People walked around them. A skycar landed. He didn’t want to say goodnight and imagined maybe she didn't want to either. “Go on and get home,” he finally said. “I’ll start the reports. You can look at them tomorrow morning.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I can stay late.”

He ran his fingers along a strand of her soaked hair. “If you want to impress this guy you have your work cut out for you.”

“Fuck off,” she groaned, but still smiled.

A mandible flicked out in a half-hearted grin. “Don’t fall in love too fast. See you tomorrow, Jane.”

“Bye, Garrus,” she said, her voice cracking as she turned. Hopefully she wasn’t getting sick from being out in the rain.

If she had looked back she would have seen him watching her, unable to look away as long as he could see her. They were great partners. A perfect team.

Sitting at his desk, Garrus wrapped up the last line of their reports and glanced at the clock. Two hours had passed since Jane left to get ready. They had to be sitting down at the restaurant, talking, Spectre Alenko trying to make her smile. He liked Italian food, was straight-laced and had to be pretty boring judging by Jane’s description. Where would he have taken her? Garrus would put his money on the Italian restaurant down the street from Jane's apartment. He would go for something close and comfortable, but if he’d asked Jane what she wanted, he would have taken her somewhere to get a good steak and a stiff whiskey.

“Go home, Vakarian,” Pallin shouted from the doorway. With a quick glance around the room, Garrus realized that the lights had been dimmed and everyone else already left. The only ones left in the room were the night cycle shift, and him.

Garrus shut his console off, satisfied with his reports but still irked by the thought of the unknown Spectre eating pasta with Jane, and slid his arms into his jacket. He decided to grab some take-out before heading home and refused to admit to the real reason he planned to go by a specific place on Silversun Strip that served decent, but not great, food. He convinced himself he’d just take a little peek into the restaurant, just to make sure she looked safe and happy, and then he’d go home.

Chapter End Notes

> Thanks for reading, for the first time or again :)

## Dinner

Chapter Summary

> Jane has the best dinner on the Citadel, and they get an ID on the boy.

Chapter Notes

> Songs I had on loop: Genesis, Grimes; Underdressed, VERITE; Better Than, Lake Street Drive, Lover, Taylor Swift

Kaiden Alenko had promised Jane the best dinner on the Citadel. It was a nice promise, so she told herself to keep an open mind. But after standing out in the rain for over an hour processing a crime scene, she wasn’t finding the advice easy to execute. A hot shower hadn’t done much to lift her mood, either.

She sat across from him at a little restaurant with faux brick walls and menus printed on actual paper — antiqued, for an authentic feel. Red tablecloths dressed round tables that were small enough you could easily reach across to take your date’s hand. The lights were low and the rich smell of garlic and marinara teased Jane’s growling stomach. Kaiden’s warm, attentive brown eyes stayed locked on hers across the glowing, flickering candlelight. He was handsome, had a pleasant voice, and smelled nice.

The best thing about her date so far, though, was how close they sat to the entrance, because it gave her a clear view out the front window, overlooking the pedestrians strolling or hurrying to wherever they had to be. Happy couples walked hand-in-hand, friends laughed, mothers and fathers tried to wrangle their kids.

While she watched everyone going about their normal lives, she wondered how the hell she got herself into such a mess. The inciting incident was a forgettable occurrence: a nice guy smiling at a shop. But his conversation and interested eyes had fed something deep and pathetic in her — the need to feel wanted. So stupid. So incredibly stupid, asking him out.

How many people passing by had just made a terrible mistake? Was it just her? Were all the other people in the restaurant, all the people walking outside, more self-aware and less needy?

Her focus was supposed to be on Kaiden, who was excitedly chattering about the difficulties of balancing Council requests with Alliance wishes. Normally she’d be able to keep smiling through a conversation she wasn’t really interested in...but Kaiden just kept talking. And talking.

And hell, if he actually let her get a word in, she could have told him that she’d started that evening staring into the eyes of a dead kid, or that she’d had at least one drink every day since…well, months ago. But weren’t first dates meant to be spent talking about pleasant things? Hopes. Dreams. Their pets. They shouldn't be talking about how hard their jobs were.

All she could think about was sitting on her couch with Garrus, talking, laughing, teasing. Relaxing. She had no idea how to be away from him. She didn’t want to know, honestly, because she’d give up a thousand dates just to hang out with him instead.

So what the hell was she doing sitting at an intimate restaurant with a guy she wasn’t even interested in? The forced conversation between them made her muscles itch and her heart wander through tight veins, bringing back uncomfortable memories. Visitors peering across her Gran and Papa's coffee table after her parents’ funeral. Blank faces that just kept talking. Sitting with her, asking her questions, showing unnecessary interest in her and trying so desperately to fill an awkward space. Strangers trying to make a connection, when all she wanted was to hide in a safe space with someone who knew her. Someone who cared for her.

Why hadn’t Garrus sent a message? He hadn’t even sent one giving her hell for ducking out on reports. Or asking if she wore her gross grey tennis shoes.

Well, she did wear them. Because they were comfortable. And she didn’t care about impressing Kaiden Alenko.

Maybe it was also because every time she took notice of the snug fit cradling her feet, a certain turian’s beautiful, expectant smile settled into her mind, his face lit up by twinkling Christmas lights as she lifted the bow.

“I never thought ambassadors would be nice ,” Kaiden said with a boyish smile. “But they sure didn’t disappoint my expectations. If you ever met one of them…” he shook his head, his smile growing.

Through Castis, she knew Laiel Sparatus a bit. It wasn’t like she was invited to their weekly lunches (security around the Primarch was intense), but she knew Laiel well enough that he’d knock wrists with her and Garrus if they were at the Embassy. It still felt a bit weird, but he was a nice guy.

“I actually know—“

“They’re just doing their job, though, I get it.”

“Sure–”

“Don’t want you to think I hate my job or anything,” he added with a nervous twitch of his lip.

A dozen curses smashed together in her head when she snuck a peek at her omni-tool— it had only been thirty minutes since they sat down but she’d probably only successfully delivered ten words.

“Have you been to any of the parks here? Not many decent ones to take Stella to. Guess dog parks aren’t as popular as they are on Earth.”

She smiled. “Not really. I have a cat, actually, his name is—”

“Oh I love cats too. Just as much as dogs, really.”

And then he started in on a story about a cat his family had when he was a kid, and she completely gave up on participating in the conversation. She just had to make it another thirty minutes without hurting his feelings, then Miranda would send her a rescue message and Jane could get the hell out of there.

“Yeah, but that’s enough about me,” Kaiden said, playing with the edges of the folded napkin sitting on the table in front of him. He was nervous, that’s why he was talking over her. He wasn’t self-centered, just an earnest guy on a first date that he was excited about. The mere fact that she wasn’t as excited as him — or at all, really — filled her with guilt.

An awkward silence developed. At that point, she should have capitalized on the opportunity to talk…but absolutely nothing came to mind. God, how much longer before she could just go home?

That’s when he started talking about his recent trip to Thessia, and Jane had no energy left.

She was bored as hell and he was nervous. And she hadn’t felt like such a mean, terrible person since fourth grade, when the girl who said her hair was the color of a box bug fell in a mud puddle and she’d laughed at her. In front of everyone.

This date should have never happened. But she was so damned lonely sometimes. And, she thought she could do it. She thought she could force herself to stop pining after her best friend for just one night. Her feelings for Garrus had to fizzle out sooner or later, right? The possibility that she could be sitting in a retirement community still swooning over Garrus as he bent over to pick something up —slowly, painfully and leaning on a walker — was unimaginable. His ass would probably still be cute, though. It’d be bony, but cute.

Okay, maybe it was imaginable.

Kaiden’s eyes blinked and his mouth stopped moving. Had he asked her something? She chewed at her lip, then took some balm out. People usually wore lipstick on dates, pouting to entice whoever was sitting across from them. And instead she was layering on thick, waxy balm to soothe her lips, gnarled from constantly kneading at them.

Her mind was too full of sad wishes. Like that one of these days, Garrus would hold her just a little bit longer, and maybe his hands would travel to somewhere he'd never dared to touch her before. Or, the wish that he’d offer her lips the same attention he gave her hair, because he played with it whenever he damned well pleased. Like it had no effect on her. Oblivious, handsome fool.

Her best friend would never be interested in her, she wasn’t turian. And, even if she was, he seemed to be holding on tight to that promise never to date again. From the very beginning, her mind knew there wasn’t a chance for them. It seemed that her heart was the stubborn one.

“What about you? How’d you end up here?” Kaiden asked, eyes unnaturally glued to her face. She assumed he was trying not to look down at the faintest peek of skin she was offering. Her black tank wasn’t showing much, but you’d think she was on full display the way Kaiden’s gaze avoided her. It was like her breasts had the power of Medusa’s gaze. Unfortunately, turning men to stone wasn’t really her kink.

But making Garrus’s dick as hard as a rock...now that would get her going.

She was starved for attention, that was the problem. Desperate to feel someone’s admiring gaze. Desperate to know that she had the power to make someone yearn. To make someone’s thighs clench and blood race.

Right, Kaiden had asked her a question. To keep herself from peeking at the time again she placed her hands in her lap, then took a deep pull of air. “Oh. Well, I was part of the initial recruitment effort to integrate humans into C-Sec. This insanely intelligent asari and,” she paused to hold in the bashful smile that crept up at the thought of the other recruiter, “hardass turian came to San Francisco and—”

“Oh, I was recruited too,” he said, his hand slipping on the fork he’d been playing with, a sharp clang ringing out when it hit the table. “Into Spectre training, after the war,” he added while straightening it back atop a cloth napkin.

He was just trying to connect with her, find something they had in common, which probably meant he was interested in her and was trying really hard. Her hands squeezed her thighs, like if she didn’t hold them down her legs would kick out and force her to run. But she just didn’t have the energy to be on a date, getting to know a stranger and giving them a chance. Her heart was already too full, and the quicker this date ended, the better. For both of them.

Jane eased against her hard-backed chair when Kaiden went into a story about his acceptance letter. As she considered taking drastic action to extract herself, like faking a heart attack, her eyes drifted to the front window.

Out of the sea of pedestrians, he was easy to spot; all seven feet of his adorable, unsuspecting ass. There Garrus was, strong and steady strides carrying him down the street, looking almost incongruously casual amongst the other pedestrians. She could catch him. If she hurried. And get the hell out of there. Snapping forward on the slick seat, she nearly fell out of her chair. “Shit,” she muttered to herself, catching her balance with a hand on the table.

Kaiden leaned forward, eyes wide and hand outstretched ready to catch her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes on her target. Damn his long legs. Even moving slowly he’d be gone quickly if she didn’t jump for the door. She leaped up from the table, chair screeching against the floor, with her escape already planned. “My partner’s outside. Must be our case,” she called, leaving Kaiden at the table.

With Garrus in her sight, Jane rushed out the door. Take-out hung in his hand, he was perfectly oblivious to her suffering. The nerve. A chair rasped behind her, she imagined it was Kaiden, which sent her flying out the front door, frantically seeking her salvation. Jumping like an excited rabbit, she ran, waving her hands desperately to catch Garrus’s attention through the crowd.

“Garrus,” she barked as if he was the last ship leaving a warzone. That did it. He turned to her, eyes wide and mandibles flared in surprise. Thank god. Only a thick crowd of pedestrians separated them. She pushed past a turian who glared at her, nearly toppled over a volus who huffed an indignant wheeze, and accidentally felt up another turian as she slid past him, using his waist for balance. She muttered a quick sorry but didn’t have time to care otherwise.

Garrus simply watched her the whole way, inexplicably frozen like a red-handed thief in a jewelry store, his mandibles drawn tight.

Just a few steps separated them. He was so close she could see the reassuring gleam in his unusually pale blue eyes. But her soaring optimism was crushed when an elcor, probably the god damned tallest and widest she’d ever seen, stepped between them. Jane screeched to a halt, rolling her eyes and balling her fists. Suddenly, laughing at a little girl covered in mud, or thinking unfair thoughts about Kaiden, paled in comparison to the possibility that Jane was near ready to kick an innocent stranger in the leg simply for stepping between her and Garrus.

Only a heartbeat after the elcor finally stepped forward, Jane’s eyes met Garrus’s. Illuminated by soft cerulean and lavender street lights, his presence eclipsed every shape and sound. For just one moment there was no bustling crowd. Only him. And her. When a smile burst from her, the one he gave in return slowed time.

This. This was all she needed in life, their friendship and their time together. Just the sight of him, even out of reach, calmed her mind and eased her heart. All the awkwardness of the past few months was a speck in the night sky compared to what they shared. Only that morning that awkwardness had seemed insurmountable, but in a flash it became inconsequential. Dread dissipated, leaving only room for gratitude — for his time, his friendship, just being him . It was time to stop bemoaning that she couldn't have more, and to start being thankful for what they did have.

The best friendship a woman could ask for.

They still had to get out of there, though.

“Jane, mm…you having dinner here?” he asked, voice wavering a bit as she rushed him, pressing in close and taking his armspur in her grip. His subvocals clicked, probably trying to recover from the heart attack she must have given him.

“Quick, make it seem like there’s a break in the case, that Pallin’s calling us in,” she whispered.

“Um.” Leaning down to her height, his eyes blinked rapidly, as if he hadn’t heard her. “What?”

Garrus’s gaze lifted and drifted behind her, she could only assume Kaiden had followed her. He’d be closing in on them fast. She flashed desperate eyes at Garrus, begging him to get it together.

“Is everything ok?” Kaiden said, stepping beside her. He looked disappointed, and she felt so bad – just for a second. But she didn’t have time to worry about his feelings more than her own. Hesitation would send her straight back into that restaurant. And that could not happen.

If Garrus was going to save her, she had to make him realize how dire this situation was. Fearing he’d choose to leave her there because he’d get a laugh out of it, she ticked her brows, waiting impatiently for him to understand how badly she needed to be rescued. When he didn’t say anything, she pinched the crook between his elbow and arm spur. Thankfully his trill of pain was only loud enough for her to hear.

“Oh, yeah,” Garrus started. “Yeah, Pallin, um, well we have work to do.” He shifted from one hip to the other, eyes jumping between her and Kaiden. The take-out bag crinkled in his hands as he clutched it tighter. “Immediately,” he added with a bit more conviction.

Lame attempt on his part. He’d get a few words for that.

“Damn,” she sighed. “Guess we’ll have to call this one early.” She took a few steps away, fully intending to fly before this whole charade fell apart, or before Kaiden had a chance to tell another story about himself.

“Wait,” Kaiden called out before she made it more than a few feet from him, “let me get your jacket for you.”

God damn, he was probably the nicest guy she’d ever met.

Kaiden turned, weaving his way through people and back into the restaurant. Once he was out of earshot, Jane whipped around to face Garrus, frustration outshining her glee.

“What’s going on?” he asked in a hushed tone, looking amused but also incredibly confused.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” she hissed.

Garrus shot her a cocky grin. No sympathy at all. “Spectre Alenko not as exciting as his job title?”

“Every minute in there is stealing another little bit of my soul. Please, help me escape.”

All she got was a half smile so sly she wanted to push him down. And maybe climb on top of him. What a bastard, making her think bad thoughts, and being so cocky as he did it.

“Please, Garrus, I just want to go home and eat dinner with you.”

Did he even want to come over? Lately, he hadn’t been asking to come over as often as he used to. But, she hadn’t been inviting him over as often, either.

A silvery sparkle danced in his eyes and eased her worry. “I don’t know, Jane," he teased. "Turians hate lies. And this is an unnecessary one. It’s not even going to help us catch a bad guy.”

Garrus’s eyes flicked over her shoulder. Kaiden’s voice carried over the crowd’s murmurs and footsteps, kindly apologizing for stepping on someone’s toes. He was so close, and she still didn’t have Garrus’s cooperation.

“Get me out of here,” she mouthed quietly, and just a breath later Kaiden stepped up beside her, returning her jacket.

Jane and Garrus’s eyes locked – hers pleading, his teasing. The cocky smile on his face nearly made her reach out and pinch him, regardless of how crazy it would make her look.

“Good thing you have your jacket, sure does get cold in the office at night,” Garrus drawled, his voice smug. Triumphant, even.

With those few words, her thumping heart settled. “I am so sorry. I’ll call you,” she lied, already halfway turned in the direction of her apartment.

“No problem, I understand. Duty calls,” Kaiden called out with a wave and a smile.

She looked behind her, not at Kaiden, though, but at Garrus, urging him to catch up with a jerk of her chin. Looking beyond pleased with his little performance, he fell in right behind her, soft footsteps sounding and a thick gravitational pull between them telling her everything was as it should be.

The source of her loneliness was her own stupid head telling her they needed distance. She missed him, missed her best friend, and if they could just spend time together like they used to, then she wouldn’t feel so damned lonely.

Heather had been wrong, Jane didn’t need to kick her feelings to the curb. It just wasn’t possible because they were too big and too persistent. Trying to control them had led her here; an aching heart and a bruised friendship suffering through ridiculously imposed distance. Worst of all, it had pushed her to ask someone out she wasn’t interested in, when she could be hanging out with her best friend instead.

Whatever resulted — even if disastrous — she’d deal with the consequences. It was stupid to worry about that, though. Happiness didn’t come from worrying about things outside your control. All anyone can do is live their life, and accept what comes.

The answer was so obvious, she almost laughed. That was the problem, she had to let go of the need to control her feelings.

Speeding down the street with Garrus at her heel, she decided on a new plan: surrender. Allow her feelings to exist. They’d either lose their weight and dissipate, or he’d eventually pick up on them. Either way, she trusted that they’d make it through. Their friendship was strong. They’d survive. A sense of relief lifted her heart, and she felt lighter than she had in months.

Maybe she should just suck it up and tell him how she felt. That was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? She had to confess her feelings.

Not tonight, but soon.

Tonight, they’d go back to her apartment, eat takeout, and have fun. Like they used to, joking and laughing like best friends. That was the best dinner on the Citadel.

🔪🔪🔪

As Jane’s short little legs worked double-time to flee the scene, her intention finally dawned on Garrus. She wasn’t upset – not even curious – why he was walking past her date, because her entire focus was on using him as a life raft.

He didn’t mind that at all, of course. He certainly cursed himself for the joy it brought him to see her leave the date with him, but he’d rather have it this way than pine after her all night, jealous and confused as he sat in his apartment all by himself. That was secretly what he wanted, wasn’t it? To see her, to grab her, to carry her home and just be with her all night. What happened, though, was even better, because she chose to leave with him; which only ingrained in him the sense that her time and her presence was still his, in some confusing and undefined way.

In just a few strides he caught up with her. Once they were clear of the restaurant her eyes shifted to him, clearly telling him she was in no mood for teasing. Sometimes that look worked, sometimes it didn’t.

“Mind telling me what that was about?” he asked.

Jane huffed, shoulders rising and falling dramatically. “That was the most boring man I’ve ever met.”

“Not bad looking though, for a human. Kind of short.”

“Gouge out my eardrums and I’ll go on a second date with him.” With a flushed complexion, she blasted down the sidewalk so quickly he had to actually make an effort to keep up with her.

Watching her hair bounce and sway, he chuckled and couldn’t resist thinking about reaching out and running his hand through it. Which would probably earn him a slap and a scowl, considering her mood. Sometimes she didn’t mind when he played with her hair. Other times, she seemed annoyed. He couldn’t ever figure out why it was okay sometimes, and not others.

“You have some explaining to do,” she said.

His heart stopped, mandibles clenching tightly against his jaw. How could he explain why he just happened to be walking past the restaurant where she was on a date without lying? “I was getting food,” he said, holding up the takeout.

“What was with the bad acting? I’ve never seen you freeze up like that.”

Oh thank the spirits, she didn’t realize he had basically stalked her on her date. With his heart fully functioning again, he gathered an answer. “You surprised me. I didn’t expect to see you running out of the restaurant.” It wasn’t a lie; he was surprised to see her, especially considering how insane she looked running towards him. The image of her tearing out of the restaurant made him chuckle.

“What?” An amused smile parted her lips.

“The way you came running at me, I thought someone was trying to kill you.”

“He was trying to kill me. Death by boredom.” She eyed the take-out in his hands. “Have any food in there I can eat?”

“Yeah, I ordered levo nix fomkka for you — thought you’d like it for lunch tomorrow. Asked ‘em to add steak, too.”

A satisfied grin spread across her face as her fingers began to wiggle their way into the bag, trying to get a peek at the contents.

“Have I ever told you you’re my hero?” she said.

“A few times. Wanna look over our report?”

She nodded and a tired sigh breezed out of her. “I should just give up on dating and accept that the rest of my nights will be spent drinking and working with you.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” he said, and couldn't help the biting disappointment that dug into his gut. But then she raised herself up on her toes and bumped her hip into his, flashing a soft smile, and that disappointment dissipated immediately.

“You rescued me.” There was a bounce in her step that elicited a bounce in his heart. The difference in her energy in just a few minutes was remarkable. Thank god you walked by and I saw you.”

“Happy to be of service.”

Her little finger wiggled at him, playful and energetic. “Happy to have you service me.”

Spirits .

Silently, they turned to each other, then fell into surprised chuckles.

“I’m hungry,” Jane explained, crimson bursting across her round cheeks.

“You have enough energy to bounce down the sidewalk, but not enough to think about the words that are about to spill out of your mouth?”

“I can’t help that I bounce,” she said, breezing down the street with the energy elevation of someone who just survived execution. On her feet were the grey tennis shoes he’d given her for Christmas, a hole in the heel of one and a tear in the toe of the other. Would it be strange to buy her a couple of pairs at once, and did he need to wait until Christmas?

“Teach me how to sway like you when I walk, then,” she said.

“Jane, I can’t teach you something that simply comes naturally to me.”

Her eyes dragged down his frame. “Hmm, I think it’s the waist-to-hip ratio, which you certainly have me beat on.” She slowed down, wagging her hips side to side with each step forward, looking more like a dancer than a pedestrian walking down the street.

Her waist-to-hip ratio was just fine.

With a flush running up his neck, he chuckled, and pushed her forward with his hand at her back. Leaning to her level, he lowered his voice to a rich rumble. “Stop it, before an officer cites you for public indecency.”

That got a deep, rich laugh out of her. “You must get citations every day.”

“Mhmm, I’m going bankrupt over here.”

“The hard life of Garrus Vakarian.”

He touched his talons to his keel. “Your sympathy replenishes my spirit.”

“But not your credit account.”

“No, suppose I need a second job.”

“I suggest dancing.” She gave a wiggle of her hips. “You already have the moves.”

“True,” he said with a smirk. “But my mom always told me not to monetize what I love doing. Takes all the joy out of it.”

“I had no idea you were giving away free lap dances.”

“Only if someone tells me I’m pretty and holds me close first. I’m a romantic, you know this.”

Laughing and bullshitting, they walked the rest of the block to her apartment. It didn’t escape him that everything felt miraculously and suddenly normal between them. Not just mostly normal, but fully and completely recovered from whatever had been plaguing their friendship the past few months. And, with every footfall, a beat sounded in his mind. She’s going home with me. Not some strange guy. With me, where she belongs.

Finally at her place, he followed her through the front door. Rocket skidded around the kitchen corner to meet them, tiny little legs moving faster than it seemed possible. With excited eyes and incessant chirps, he brushed against Garrus’s legs first.

“Hey buddy,” Garrus told him, giving him neck scratches. “I’ve missed you too. Need to come over more, don’t I?”

“You do,” Jane said. What exactly had been keeping him away, then? If she had wanted him there, and he wanted to be there…why hadn’t he been?

While Jane went upstairs to change into her comfortable clothes, Garrus got plates out and filled them with food. Rocket told him some kind of story, probably about treats considering the earnestness. Jane’s humming carried to the kitchen as she came back down, a soul song he couldn't put a name to though he’d heard it a thousand times. As she rounded the corner, tugging a shirt over her head and pulling her shorts up a little higher over her hips, Rocket jumped on the counter and barked at her.

“What a tragedy, I wasn’t here to feed you too many cookies,” she said, giving him an appreciated pet, Rocket burying his face in her cupped hand. She got glasses out and poured their drinks. Eager to get comfortable, Garrus untucked his shirt and unclasped the top fastener. Rolling up his sleeves, he felt her eyes burning on him, like she had something on her mind.

Waiting for her to say something, he raised his clasped hands to the back of his head, stretched his tense shoulders, arched his stiff back, and took in a deep, relieving breath.

When he opened his eyes he saw hers glued to his waist.

“Alright, Sexy Septimus, stop putting on a show and take your drink,” she teased, her hand clutching his glass reaching out towards him.

He lowered his arms and pulled his shirt back down. “A man’s allowed to stretch at the end of the day. And your stomach is always out.” He gestured to her perpetually exposed waist. “Does C-Sec not pay you enough to buy longer shirts?”

Crimson flushing her entirely, from forehead to throat; she laughed with wide, smiling lips. “You’re such a dick.”

Satisfied that he’d embarrassed her as well as she’d embarrassed him, he chuckled in turn. A memory popped into his head, then, of her talking during a stakeout about sexy yawning turians.

He swiftly, and wisely, pushed down that hope and took his horosk from her hand. Right before he took a drink, he asked, “Sexy Septimus?”

“Your stripper name,” she said plainly.

“Spirits, Jane,” he said as he chuckled into his drink.

Did she have any idea how easily she made him laugh?

She sipped her drink, and he sipped his. Rocket took turns dancing at their feet, brushing himself against their legs, rubbing his cheeks on any surface at face level. Strange that a little furry animal from Earth scented, too. It always seemed like something only turians did.

Jane shifted, leaning her hip against the counter and catching Garrus’s attention.

Everything felt right again between them, natural and normal. He couldn't guess why, or how, but something about her going on that date had thrust them back to a sense of comfortable normalcy. They’d been laughing and teasing without reservation. After months, he once again felt like he had an unquestioned place in her life and her home. The idea that she could have gone home with someone else, and been standing there in her kitchen — with someone else — seemed inconceivable.

He sensed words sitting at the edges of her mind, though he wasn’t sure what they’d be.

“What are you thinking?” he finally asked.

“Nothing, just…this is much better.” She smiled, soft and sweet.

He found himself smiling back. It was. So much better. It should always be like that, whatever it was. Their gazes settled on each other, and for a moment they didn’t say anything, just smiled.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “First date in two years. Didn’t go so well.”

Her nose scrunched. “Yeah, not so much. I almost told him about the turian who recruited me at SFPD. The first turian I ever had a crush on.”

Garrus’s browplate rose but he held in any other reaction. “And who was your latest?”

Her eyes narrowed and an arm crossed over her stomach, bisecting the plane of skin that peeked out between her shirt and shorts. She took a slow sip. “I think I figured something out tonight.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Dates are for people who want to date.”

“You’re a wordsmith, Jane,” he drawled, warmth in his tease.

Rolling the liquid in her glass with a turn of her wrist, she shrugged.

With a lift of his browplate and tilt of his chin, he nodded. “It’s been a while, but I do remember that being the point. Dating people, on dates.”

“Well. Damn. Looks like I’ll have to stop going on dates then.”

“You could have figured that out a bit sooner if you’d gone out with Lorik when he asked you two years ago.” He wasn’t sure what he meant by that, other than to fish for the reason she’d never gone on a date with Lorik.

“Mmm, “ she hummed in agreement, then picked up her plate and headed to the living room. He picked up his and followed after her. When she sat down on the floor instead of the couch, he did too.

“I feel really bad for leaving like that. I keep running away when I’m scared, and I’ve never been that kind of person.”

He was about to ask when she ran from something else, but a flick in her eyes and a bite at her lips told him to leave it be, she’d tell him if she wanted him to know.

“Just tell him you’re not ready to date, it’s nothing personal.”

Rocket leapt up and nestled in the hollow of his carapace, then started up his little purring vocals. The fact that Rocket loved to tuck into his carapace like a baby wasn’t surprising, because the way cats hissed and swiped at the slightest threat, or even the perception of threat, was curiously similar to turian infant behavior. Garrus patted Rocket, and got an appreciative hum in reply.

“Your little turian baby,” Jane said, patting Garrus’s shoulder. “Cuddled up and purring in your cowl.”

“Mm, and he’s so well behaved. So quiet and calm.”

“Seriously, what do you do with a turian baby when they hiss at someone and take a swipe?”

“Me? I’d tell the creep to back off my kid.” He stroked his talons through Rocket’s fuzzy fur. “Boundaries are important.”

Only a few bites into dinner, a ping from Jane’s omni-tool interrupted their meal.

“Aw, Spectre Alenko misses you already?”

Jane stuck her foot out to poke his thigh with her toe, a rich chuckle rippling out of her when he caught it before she could jerk it away. It felt too good in his hand, her muscles tensing at his touch. He gave it a squeeze, then let it slide from his grip, savoring her soft skin dragging against his palm and fingertips, and regretting that he’d taken hold of her bare foot. And also that he had to let it go.

So easily, Garrus could have wrapped his hand around Jane’s ankle, pulled her to her back, slid his tongue up her calf and nuzzled the skin behind her knee. That spot looked so soft and sensitive, her pulse would beat against his tongue. Would she like that? Would she close her eyes and sigh?

Speaking of boundaries…that thought was a clear step over a line. Nothing wrong with her poking him with her toe, or him grabbing her foot; that crap should be normal between best friends. His thoughts weren’t, though. That’s what had to go, not their fun, not their laughter.

Maybe that was the key to figuring out a way to regain some balance in their friendship: isolate his friendship feelings from the romantic ones. If they weren’t all muddled together, he could eradicate his romantic feelings for her and they could maintain their tight knit friendship.

Just a simple matter of control.

“It’s Miranda, asking how my date’s going,” Jane finally said, hunched over her omni-tool, and not laid out before him on her back. “She was supposed to be my rescue if the date didn’t go well.”

Garrus tried to ignore Jane’s little foot, and her delicately bent ankle, resting so close to his thigh as she typed a reply while chewing like a starving varren.

Toning down the irritation in his voice (because he couldn’t stop sneaking looks at her ankle, her calf, and the crook of her knee), he asked, “What did you tell her?”

“I’m currently sitting on my living room floor eating take-out with a handsome turian. And that her help didn’t come soon enough.”

Handsome . That word sounded like velvet in her voice. It slipped around Garrus’s mind, nuzzled at his neck and throat.

Boundaries, dammit.

So his simple plan may take some time. Nothing to worry about. Ciprtine was built across centuries. And his feelings weren’t as colossal as a metropolis.

Their omni-tools chimed in unison, and they both dropped their utensils. A quick glance at the message and Garrus looked over to Jane. “ID on the boy.”

Jane nodded, grabbing a datapad from the coffee table, her eyes sifting through the message. “Adam Udina. Son of Charles and Samantha Udina.” She paused, then shot him a stunned look. “He was Ambassador Udina’s nephew.”

“Well, damn. The human ambassador to the Council? Know much about the family?”

“I met Ambassador Udina once when I was visiting Uncle David at his office. But I’m sure he wouldn't remember me. He barely acknowledged my presence. I don’t know the parents though…not exactly my social circle. I think Charles Udina is in tech, or development, or something like that.”

“Better make some coffee, we can start digging into public records tonight.”

Rising and turning to the kitchen, she said, “The autopsy’s scheduled for first thing tomorrow. We can visit Mordin, then go meet the parents.”

He nodded in agreement.

Coffee mugs in hand, they finished their meals while pulling articles about the Udinas – the parents were active in politics and charities, and Adam was even mentioned a few times in his school newspaper. Good grades, awards for acts of kindness, etc. Garrus was half way through a story about Ambassador Udina’s recent fit after an embassy meeting when he looked over at Jane. Pulled up on her datapad was a picture of Adam, her eyes locked on his; the joy and brightness in the kid’s grey eyes in deep contrast with the sorrow in hers.

“What’d you find?” he asked, raising his mug to his mouth but finding it empty.

Her once wide-smiling lips were clasped tight, her beautiful face no longer flushed with happiness, but darkened by sadness. “Look at him, Garrus,” she said, her voice only a register above a whisper, tearing at his heart. “What a sweet kid. You can see the kindness in his eyes.”

She never used to talk about their eyes so much. Her heart had always been an asset in cases, led them down paths other detectives would ignore. For detectives, though, there was a line between a good heart and sentimentality. The latter made days miserable, if impossible.

How he wanted to reach out and press her tight against his chest, hold her there until the darkness faded. What he’d give to be her apricus, like she was his. Once, he had been. At least, he thought he had, when he offered her a hug in the elevator, right after they found Ziha in that corridor. Jane had cried and he’d chased away her sadness with a simple, comforting hug.

They’d get back there, back to being able to offer a hug without the anxiety that he’d slip up, hug her too long, and ask for more.

Garrus watched her dispirited face and troubled gaze stay on Adam’s picture, seeming so distant he thought he’d startle her if he reached out to take her hand. He hadn’t realized his concerned and comforting subvocals started up until he felt Rocket stretch out a paw, patting his mandible and begin to purr along with him.

“We’ll find the bastard,” he promised, and instead of taking her hand, he nudged her wrist with his knuckle.

She nodded, and for a short moment let her cheek fall against his arm.

“Damn,” he muttered and she pulled her head from him and looked up with worried brows. “How the hell did we land another case with a tie to the Council?”

“Bout as serendipitous as you wandering past my date, hm?” she said. “Maybe fate.”

“Fate isn’t the reason we handle so many high-profile cases, it’s all Pallin. A rich kid dead in a park was reason enough to send us.”

“You don’t believe in fate?”

“No.” It wasn’t fate that connected them outside the restaurant, just his inability to share Jane. “You do?”

“Sure,” she answered. “We all make choices, and never know where we’ll end up, but things always turn out alright.”

Despite all the arguments against her point, a happy rumble started in his chest. Before he could catch it, Jane looked up at him and smiled. Sad, tired, but there was a little bit of sunshine there too.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m happy we’re partners. And best friends. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

“Me either,” he said. When he felt a twitch in his hand, wanting to reach out and brush her cheek with his talon, he isolated that thought and pushed it out.

And his heart didn’t ache so much, because they were at her apartment, together. Friends, as it should be.

## Air

Chapter Summary

> Nihlus calls Garrus out, and Garrus and Jane visit the morgue.

Chapter Notes

> Song I had on loop: Sweet Carolina, Lana Del rey

The Homicide department always contained an array of distractions. A buzz of constant chatter, voices drifting in and out, sometimes as droning melodies, sometimes as stinging crashes. Keyboard clicks struck by talons, or pounded by soft fingertips. Bodies coming and going, footsteps falling. News outlets turned on and off as reports came in — Garrus and Jane tried to avoid those, but other detectives liked to stay on top of speculation. Detectives more often than not had a tendency towards grim curiosity.

Occasionally people fucked around, threw crap at each other. Mostly him and Jane, to be fair, but they weren’t the only detectives who relied on juvenile amusement to get through the day. One hundred bodies occupied that space, all with their own outlet for stress and frustration.

None of that ever interrupted his focus, though. It was that sniper’s concentration. With the static singe of spent heat sinks in his nose, the chest-collapsing pull of heavy artillery pounding beside him, and he’d still hit a target dead on as if plucking a shuddering leaf from the air between his thumb and finger.

Presently, he wasn’t so good at tuning out Nihlus’s faint, deep subvocals, though. Especially since the prior night had been a late one with him and Jane sifting through anything relating to the Udina family they could get their hands on.

“Hey,” Jane said, jiggling her empty cup from their morning coffee shop visit. “I’m empty. Want me to grab you one from the lounge?”

He didn’t, but she probably wanted an excuse to get up and move around, so he nodded. She was gone in a flash, hand raking through her hair, confirming his suspicion. His worries would subside if she could just get a hold of her nerves. She’d been on edge ever since they worked the quarian case, and time wasn’t helping.

It was probably time to start mentioning some remedies. If her vacation didn’t help, he’d suck it up and endure her irritation at the suggestion of some outside help.

Garrus leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight, pulling up the initial interviews with Adam’s parents. Those were always a crap shoot because more often than not they were conducted by a tired rookie detective.

Without a word, Nihlus rose from his chair, took two long, lazy strides to Garrus's desk, and sat down. It was too early to get involved in whatever he was brooding about, so Garrus tried to work through the giant distraction, but Nihlus’s agitated subvocals swelled to an exigent rumble. Even when he wasn’t speaking, he took up an unnecessary amount of auditory space. Garrus had enough plaguing his own mind though, so he just let Nihlus sit there. If he wanted to vent or seek comfort, he’d have to initiate it himself.

There was a crash of data pads falling to the floor from some far corner of the room, followed by an unrelated bark from Pallin, before Nihlus finally asked, “How have you worked with a human this long?”

Garrus threw his empty coffee cup at the trash can three desks over. It would have been a perfect shot if Chellick, walking past, hadn’t knocked it wide. The asshole grin he gave Garrus over his shoulder was unnecessary, just like everything he did. Right as Chellick turned away, Garrus tossed Jane’s, making sure it bounced off the back of his head. Equally unnecessary, but it felt good.

Ignoring chuckling Chellick’s hand gesture, Garrus answered Nihlus. “If Jane did something to piss you off, you probably deserved it.”

Nihlus gave him the side-eye. “That quickly you’d pick her side?”

“Every time. Surprised you had to ask.”

Distracted, not upset, Nihlus looked away. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

With his contemplative eyes on T’Saris’s old and vacant desk, Nihlus shook his head. “No. I’m getting a human partner this week. Since Jane’s the only human left from the first round, they’re revisiting the human integration program in Homicide.”

“Who?”

“He’s transferring from Narcotics. James Vega.” Garrus felt a surge of sympathy when a discontented sigh drained out of Nihlus, loud enough to make a few people look. “Tell me, what’s the trick to working with a human?”

Garrus elbowed Nihlus’s thigh to get him off a datapad containing forensics reports. There were three empty chairs, and three empty desks, nearby. Nihlus could have been sitting on any one of them, but instead he sulked atop Garrus’s desk like a kid needing comfort. “You’re around humans all the time. Jane and… hell, you spend any night with Kasumi when you're not tied up with some fling. Why are you asking? And why are you agitated about it?”

Nihlus gave a sly smirk. “My flings are usually the one tied up. Though I do enjoy restraints on myself every once and a while.”

Quick to lift a hand, Garrus drawled, “Not interested right now.”

“I miss the days when you weren’t sexually frustrated, you were a lot more fun to talk to.”

“I’m not—”

Nihlus reached out and stroked a talon up Garrus’s neck, sending a deep shiver rattling through his whole body, the stimulation too much, too good. Jane’s bent ankle popped into his head at the worst moment, sending heat pulsing from throat to thighs. Internally, he was annoyed beyond reason, but the smallest tell would only fuel NIhlus, so he tried to seem unphased. Garrus buried his chin in his palm, and gave Nihlus only a flick of an annoyed side eye.

“You’re touch starved.”

“Don’t grope me at work, Nih.”

While Nihlus's deep chuckle vibrated through the desk, Garrus rubbed at his neck, chasing the pleasant sensation away. Touch starved would have defined him about a year ago. Lately, the slightest tickle was sensory euphoria. Nihlus was a damn bastard. And too spirit-abandoned observant.

As soon as Nihlus’s chuckle subsided he gave Garrus’s shoulder an affectionate pat to say he was sorry. “ Working with a human is different. But you and Jane are a better team than any other.”

Refocusing on his console and giving up on the datapad beneath Nihlus, Garrus shrugged.

He searched for an answer to satisfy Nihlus. When the humans had initially transferred in, everyone complained so much you’d think a pack of Vorcha was joining up. Even the diplomatic, pro-diversity officers were openly agitated. They all thought it was too quick, and undeserved. Garrus didn’t join in on the grumbling, though. Growing up, he’d never been gifted the luxury of complaining. Dad treated it as a weakness of character and Mom immediately asked them to think with their heart, not discontent.

Either way, their lectures were a good lesson in tightening your mandibles. Sol had once pointed out the glaring connection between their childhood and his tendency to hold things in, and her drive to resolve other people’s problems. If he and Sol did complain, they learned they better immediately follow it up with a solution. That was Dad’s number one rule.

There was no solution to working with humans, though. You just had to deal with it. So, he dealt with Jane, at first. The first few weeks consisted of quiet, uncomfortable skycar rides, both of them too skittish and careful to say much of anything for fear of doing or saying the wrong thing. But that stage didn’t last too long because so incredibly quickly he realized she was a funny, inspiring, kind-hearted ray of sunshine — apricus embodied.

While James was probably a nice enough guy, the likelihood that he’d become Nihlus’s apricus was pretty low. So, Garrus had no answer that would help ease Nihlus’s worries or offer any hope.

“Come on,” Nihlus said. “No one else has partnered with a human for so long, even in other departments. How did you make it work?”

“Jane’s just…”

Smart. Kind. Funny. Easy-going. Filled in all his gaps.

Perfect.

Nihlus’s talon tapped a beat on his forearm plate, but Garrus struggled to think of something other than an outright declaration of Jane’s perfection, how much he admired her, and was lucky to have been partnered with her. Their meeting and partnership —hell, even their friendship — was…fate, just like Jane said.

He’d be damned before he told Nihlus that, though.

Trouble was, he just wasn’t sure how to talk about her just in a work aspect, because she was so much more. It had become hard to tell which compartment each of his thoughts and feelings about her existed. Best Friend. Partner. Woman he wanted to shower in affection until she told him he was her everything, too.

That last one, that’s what he needed to isolate and eliminate.

Nihlus’s stare hardened. Still, Garrus couldn't come up with anything.

“We just get along,” he offered lamely. Instead of satisfying Nihlus, it only made him more impatient, crossing his arms in annoyance.

How in the hell was he supposed to give Nihlus career advice when he and Jane’s relationship was so damned complicated. Garrus sighed so hard a little trill came out, though he tried to pretend that it didn’t.

Nihlus’s head tilted, then his eyes narrowed clearly contemplating something far too deeply for it to be anything Garrus wanted to hear. “Come over tonight, you and Jane. Kasumi and I are watching the game. We can order in. It’ll be a nice, relaxing night.”

The detective who’d been on the receiving end of Pallin’s earlier bark wandered out of his office with a grimace. Garrus and Jane hadn’t been reprimanded in years due to their record of solving big cases that made the department look good, but Jane’s behavior lately was starting to catch Pallin’s attention. He’d stand in his office, peering out the pristine glass watching her come and go throughout the day.

“You and Jane…” Nihlus said, but instead of using words to communicate what he was getting at, he tried to make his inquiry clear simply by wagging his browplates, then shifted his eyes to Jane’s empty desk.

Black night, he better be asking about the case.

“Speak,” Garrus said.

“I’m surprised she never went out with Lorik. Aren’t you?”

Nihlus sure picked the best times to bring up the worst subjects. With weight on his shoulders and a thump in his chest, Garrus sat lower. “No.”

“There must be some reason she never did. He certainly made his desire clear at that party, and before she went home with you she seemed to have been admiring him.”

“Don’t you have a case to be working on?”

Nihlus shifted, his body fully facing Garrus, hands resting on each thigh. “When are you going to stop all of this nonsense with her?”

“Your riddles are annoying me. There’s no nonsense between us.”

Head rolling to the side, Nihlus just stared blankly, until he finally said, “It used to be funny, but now it’s just irritating. And sad.”

“Good to know my life makes you sad,” Garrus drawled, quickly trying to step out of the conversation. It was impossible to focus his gaze on the interview in front of him any harder, but he certainly tried.

“You don’t just get along well, you’re a match. You fit perfectly,” Nihlus said.

“Yeah we’re best friends,” Garrus said flatly, wishing to the star-filled sky Nihlus would shut up.

He’d dodged this topic countless times, and it was getting old. Nihlus has always meddled, but the jokes and suggestions had never been so frequent. Or so persistent.

“Yeah? Then what’s that agitated rumble for?”

It was true. His subvocals ground in his chest. And because Nihlus had the nerve to hear it, Garrus quickly stopped thinking about punching him, and started thinking about straight-up strangling him.

Finding it hard to restrain himself, Garrus shoved Nihlus off the datapad beneath him and grabbed it.

Nihlus leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Spirits, Garrus, just admit how you feel about Jane. It’s time.”

Nihlus might as well have sucker punched him in the gut. It really wasn’t time. That time didn’t exist. Garrus’s fingers tensed, palms clenched. He looked over each shoulder to see if anyone listened in.

With a sigh, Garrus tossed the datapad on his desk, watching it slide halfway towards Jane’s before stopping. “We’re just partners, Nih. Good partners. Good friends. There doesn’t need to be anything more.” Not a lie. He’d wanted there to be more, but just being friends, like they were last night, was enough.

It had to be. His wandering thoughts had begun on the worst night of his life, when he found out his mom would be resting amongst the stars far too soon, and the day she was shot he promised to put an end to those shameful thoughts. They only grew though, from simple flickers of attraction, to yearning for her touch and affection, to almost confessing his feelings and asking her to return them. All that got him was a whole lot of pain. And sadness. He was sick of being sad, instead of being happy to have such a great best friend.

No, they’d been doing so well the past month. She said they were good partners, no sex involved, no attraction. She wanted it that way.

Boundaries. That’s all he needed. And to ignore Nihlus’s meddling.

A flash of impatience darkened Nihlus’s eyes, though.

“You know,” Garrus finally said around the lump in his throat, “unlike you, I can work with someone without having sex with them.”

“I’d like to consult everyone you ever sparred with.” Nihlus challenged Garrus with a tilt of his brow.

“There’s a thing called boundaries, and we don’t overstep those with each other.”

“You haven’t sparred with Jane in months, though. And I’m sure I don’t need to say out loud why that is. Your heart has always been tied to touch. Your dick, too.”

Garrus was going to clock him. Good and hard, right on the mandible. He could see it perfectly in his mind . Instead, he sank lower in his chair while Nihlus’s challenging look only intensified. If Nihlus only knew how damned hard Garrus was trying to wash away all his feelings, he’d back the hell off.

Maybe he should admit to it, and say he’s getting past it and moving on. Maybe that was the only way Nihlus would drop it, and spirits, maybe saying the truth out loud to someone would set his feelings free.

Nihlus probably wasn’t the best candidate, though, he’d never let it go. Neither would Mom. Sol would just tell Mom.

The only other person he had was Jane.

Nihlus reached out, attempting to take another swipe at his neck, but Garrus batted him away just in time.

Pallin was at Garrus’s desk with jittering subvocals before either realized he was there. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked, browplate slanted so sharp it could cut whoever held his ire.

“No, sir,” they said, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Vakarian,” Pallin said, “You and Shepard get to the Presidium. We have a body.”

“We’re due at the morgue, sir. Autopsy on Adam Udina should be wrapping up.”

Pallin rubbed at his fringe, exhaustion soaked into every inch of him. He looked around the room. “Where is she? Why is she never at her damned desk anymore?”

Before Garrus could come up with a likely and mundane excuse, Pallin’s omni-tool went off, a succession of bright beeps one right after the next. They only got a quick glance from Pallin before he huffed and turned to Nihlus.

“Sure. What’s the story?” Nihlus said.

“Body in the water. Might be asari but they can’t tell, it’s been in too long.”

Garrus watched Nihlus, eagerly anticipating a reaction. The expletive Nihlus spat sent righteous satisfaction beaming through Garrus and gave him a gleeful smile that slowly spread his mandibles…it was a bit of vengeance for his prying into his relationship with Jane. Justice was always sweet.

“Problem, Kryik?” Pallin stared him down with a domineering glare.

“No, sir.”

Garrus made no attempt to stop chuckling.

“Vakarian, shut up. And Kryik, hurry, before it turns to sludge.”

Someone as busy and as hounded upon as Pallin had to get their amusements in somewhere. Unfortunately for everyone in Homicide, Pallin got his in by taking pleasure in their pain. Looking happier and just a little less tired, Pallin headed towards his office.

🔪🔪🔪

Two hot coffees in hand, Jane reached Garrus’s desk just as Pallin left. Garrus sat reclined and at ease in his chair, a smug grin plastered on his face that instantly made her curious. Nihlus sat perched atop the desk, looking like he was about to haul back and punch Garrus. The two fools were at each other again. “Why are you laughing at Nihlus?” she asked.

“He deserves it,” Garrus said.

“What are you harassing my partner about now?”

All that came out of Garrus was a string of syllables and fluttering mandibles, but Nihlus was too fast, and more articulate. “We’re talking about Garrus’s sex life.”

“We were not,” Garrus grumbled, his vindictive grin disintegrating.

“Leave people alone, you fucking pervert,” Jane playfully warned Nihlus as she sipped her coffee, then handed a cup to Garrus. “Not everyone wants to fuck everything that moves.” With a twist in her chest, she added, “And why do you want to know about it? I don’t want to know about it. He doesn’t want to know about mine. Do you?”

“ No ,” the word squelched from Garrus’s throat.

Nihlus’s mandibles spread and mouth opened to say something, and she could tell by the devious look on his face it was something he was really going to enjoy saying, but before he could get a word out Pallin bellowed from across the room. It was a bellowing shout that caught everyone’s attention in the entire jam-packed, busy department. “I wasn’t joking, Kryik! I don’t want any damn pictures of the body on the evening news. Move!”

Jane turned to Garrus for an explanation, who looked far too pleased for the answer to be anything pleasant.

“He got a floater,” Garrus said.

She cracked a mostly sympathetic smile. “Jesus, Nihlus. I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” he said, then turned to Garrus. “Hey, remember that time we found that Blood Pack hideout?”

“With the vat in the basement?”

“Yeah. The sight—.” Nihlus grimaced.

“The sight was nothing compared to the smell.” Garrus’s own grimace was replaced with a smile. “Well, good luck at the lake.”

“I should drag your ass with me, just for that smile.” With a heavy but happy sigh Nihlus rose. Because he never left a conversation until he was completely out of a room, near the door out of Homicide, he called to Garrus, “One of these days, we’ll partner up and I’ll make you do all the disgusting work.”

“Hey, think of the positives,” Garrus called back. “You’ll have fresh air this time. And diplomats as an audience instead of a pack of snarling vorcha.”

Nihlus gave a huffing, deep laugh and was gone.

Garrus turned to Jane, his infectious smile lighting up his handsome face. “Pallin will have to pry you out of my hands before I team up with him.”

She raised her hand, and she didn’t have to wait long for him to give her a high five. Three. Whatever.

“You ready?” Garrus asked.

Taking a deep breath, Jane nodded, and they walked out of Homicide as well.

The immediate hush as the elevator doors closed behind them initiated a welcome peace. A soft, mechanical hum ushered their descent. They exchanged glances as they dropped, and sipped coffee.

“What was up with Nihlus?”

“He’s getting a human partner this week. Has him on edge. I think he misses T’Saris but won’t admit it.”

“Who’s his new partner?”

“James Vega, a transfer. They’re integrating humans in again.”

She nodded. Silence, save the elevator hum, resumed. The floor numbers ticked by as their descent continued, her mind working over Nihlus having a human partner. “He’s worried that he’ll fail like everyone else.”

“Everyone but you and me,” Garrus replied.

“The wonder team.” She raised her coffee to toast him and gave a wink.

“Except, you know, that time I let you get shot, and you had to save my life.”

“That wasn’t your fault, you know that. And you saved mine first, so consider that an equal exchange.”

“Nihlus invited us over tonight, to watch the game with him and Kasumi.” Garrus was noticeably and curiously unenthusiastic.

“We better go then. Nihlus will just kidnap us if we don’t.”

He wouldn't resort to actual kidnapping, just the psychological equivalent. It was easier to get out of a family dinner than it was an invitation by Nihlus.

With the anticipation of the autopsy looming her morning had been crappy so far. Between the scene and the autopsy it was easy to get so stuck on the details: time, location, ID, witnesses...easy to forget the victim was a real person. But then the heavy metal door into the morgue would slide open, and the victim would be resting on the table, under the bright lights, and the realization would settle that they were alive once, breathing and existing, and now they're not, and it was her problem to solve.

“You’re lucky I pull all the weight,” Garrus said.

“You’re lucky I put up with your bullshit,” she quickly replied with a smirk.

“You could skip this one, you know. It’s ok to take a break from crap sometimes.”

“I’m fine. Stop acting like your mom.”

“You want a hug?” he asked, a warm sparkle in his teasing eyes.

“Stop,” she said with a grin that she tried to hide behind her coffee. Of course she wanted a hug, but not because she was sad or uptight. It had been months since she felt his arms around her. That damn terrible night they’d danced in her kitchen and she’d acted like an idiot. She should have savored the last hug. She wished she’d known it would be the last.

It shouldn't have been the last.

Their first hug had been so effortless. He’d anticipated her need, and despite her initial refusal, gave it to her anyhow. No one had ever done that – just known what she needed and gave it to her so easily. It must have been hard for him, though. Cama had pushed him away, refused to allow him to comfort her through her struggles. Jane had pushed him away too, in that elevator, but he gave himself to her anyway. Did he realize how strong, and giving he truly was?

That facet of him gave her confidence that even if she told him how she felt, he’d still accept her. They would make their friendship work.

She just had to figure out how to tell him.

“Really,” he persisted, and at first she thought he was going to offer her a hug again, and that time she’d take it. She’d fall into his arms and breathe in his fresh sunshine herb scent that clung to his skin and clothes. And then she’d feel better. She’d know that their friendship was just fine. Nothing was broken.

But then he said, “We have a lot to do today. We can split up, divide and conquer. I’ll do the autopsy and you can look over interviews.”

She pressed her lips tight until the pain peaked and she could take a full breath. Was it the autopsy, or the fact that her hug was gone, that irritated her so much? “I’m good, Garrus. Really.”

“Alright.”

The care in his eyes struck her heart, and made her feel guilty for her irritation.

Garrus shrugged. “But let’s get some fresh air after this,” he said. “I’ll need to get the smell of the morgue out of my system.”

She nodded, knowing that the air was for her, not for him, but she let it go. Insisting she was fine when she clearly was agitated would only prove him right.

“Is that why turians don’t work in the morgue? The odors are too much?” she asked.

“I think it’s because the medical examiners don’t get guns. We like our guns,” he said with his charming dry humor as the elevator doors slid open.

Together they stepped out of the elevator, set their coffees down at a table, and used their omni-tools to gain access to the morgue. The rancid odor of death masked by chemicals hit Jane’s nose. No detective really enjoyed a trip downstairs, and she was no different – but meeting with Mordin right after an autopsy always provided a wealth of knowledge. And, she actually had a soft spot for the quirky salarian.

Mordin greeted them with a quick nod, his eyes flashing quickly as he processed information that had to be bouncing around his brain like a bug stuck in a jar. His assistant, a young asari, worked at putting away tools.

The boy, Adam, was unclothed and lay on the cold table in front of them, a sheet drawn up to his waist. The harsh lights always washed the bodies out, making them even paler. The lighting insisted that they were dead. Whatever abuses the victim’s endured before their death were all the more exaggerated here. And that was true for poor little Adam, his body littered with the evidence of the last brutal moments of his life. His fine sandy brown hair was freshly cleaned and no longer marred with mud and grass, though.

“Good timing,” Mordin spoke first, but he didn’t look at them directly. His eyes were focused on his console stationed next to the body. “Just finished images. Many to take. He had much to tell. Hemorrhaging, fractures, abrasions, blunt force trauma, fingernail scores in skin. Biotics, too. Passion? No, had to be crime of power.” His fingers worked furiously, typing in his notes as quickly as they surfaced in his brain.

“Good morning, Mordin,” Jane said.

Mordin looked up at her and Garrus. “Very sorry. Greetings Jane, Garrus. Why don’t we ever meet in nice places?” An impish grin sneaking across his face, he chuckled to himself. He gave them that line at least once a month.

“Hang up some art,” Garrus said, “and this place won’t be so bad. Oh, and get rid of the corpses.”

Jane nudged Garrus with her shoulder and gave Mordin a smile. “Alright,” she replied, “you blurted out a lot there. Let's go over it. Slowly enough for Garrus to understand, this time.”

Garrus pinched her, right in the curve of her waist, while Mordin brought up the photos on his console. The images began to flash by just as quickly as Mordin spoke.

“First, contusions on stomach, back, several on legs too. These are result of blunt force trauma, think they were caused by fists and feet. Contusions on shoulders, though, I think from falling, or slamming, against flat surface. Small fractures to bones near contusions. No large breaks. One small occipital laceration.”

“Someone beat the shit out of him,” Garrus noted.

“Yes, assault quite severe. Happened close to death, one hour before injuries to neck. Manual strangulation cause of death. Fractured larynx and hyoid. Fine, pinpoint hemorrhaging on neck. Abrasion marks on neck and fingernail scores. Dug fingers in. Not very strong, but violent. Hateful.”

“They suffocated him. That’s what killed him?” Jane asked for the confirmation.

“Yes. Damage on body bad, painful, but would have healed. Manual strangulation interrupted oxygen intake, stopped heart. Cause of death.”

Jane took in a large, steadying breath of air, then immediately regretted it as the bitter odor of death and sting of chemicals overwhelmed her. Already, thinking of Garrus’s offer of fresh air provided her relief.

“You said something about biotics?” Garrus shifted closer to her and took over the questioning as she tried to soften the clench in her chest with more manageable breaths of air.

“Yes. Feint mass effect charges still present in his body.”

“Were they his charges? Did he have biotic power?”

“No, no biotic power. Dr. D’vani can say more. She is expert.”

D’vani set down a tool and turned to them. “Biotics were used on him,” she confirmed, “but based on the mass effect particles still present, and his time of death, the power was probably very basic. I think it would have been an untrained or very young asari, or human.”

“Why so certain on the species?”

“Shoe prints on victim’s back,” Mordin said.

Because of the shape of their feet. Jane held in a grimace and nodded. Once upon a time, hundreds of years ago, shoe prints were vital in solving some cases. Nowadays, there were so many damned people around, it rarely led them to a suspect. How lucky detectives were back then.

“How many biotics are on the Citadel right now?” Jane asked rhetorically, because there was no way that would lead to a single person, either.

“At the time of the murder,” D’vani said, “54,234. That’s just registered, of course”

“Well,” Garrus drawled, “you know I’m usually Mr. Positivity, but I don’t think we can interview that many people today.”

“Maybe in two night cycles. Must work hard, though, no breaks,” Mordin quipped with another impish grin.

Jane’s eyes stayed locked on Adam. “You can tell what powers they used?” she asked Dr. D’vani.

“I can only make guesses based on the injuries. I assume they might have used telekinesis…that’s how the shoulder contusions occurred. He was probably slammed down on a flat surface repeatedly. Some hematoma and some ground in fibers on his face indicate being held down for quite some time, forcefully.”

“That wouldn’t have been from slamming him down?” Garrus asked.

“No,” Mordin said. “Pattern indicates firm, consistent pressure against left cheek and scalp.” He gestured over Adam’s left cheek, indicating where the damage took place. “Not rapid and abrupt. Also, contusions match human or asari feet – five toes not two. Look for human or asari. Certain.”

Jane and Garrus nodded.

“Anything else?” Garrus asked. Jane felt his eyes on her instead of on the medical examiners or Adam.

“No, nothing else relevant. For now.”

Jane and Garrus gave Mordin and D’vani nods and thanked them for their time, then Garrus turned to her.

“What do you say, Jane? Wanna take me out for a late breakfast?” She couldn’t ignore how soothing her partner's voice sounded, and knew it was for her. He always knew exactly what she needed to feel better.

Jane answered with a slow nod, still trying to fill her lungs with a satisfying breath. But now she was just as focused on her partner’s calming presence and the assurance he provided. This job was tough, but she was thankful every day that she had him by her side. He sure made it a hell of a lot easier. Garrus’s hand landed gently on her shoulder, ready to guide her back to the elevator.

“Goodbye Jane, Garrus,” Mordin said, eyes already back on his console. “Next time, we should meet for coffee. Discuss more pleasant things. Ah, Halloween just a few months away. Cannot wait to show you new costume. You weren’t at last party, must come this time, you were missed.”

“We’ll try to make it,” Jane said, then shoved her hand in her pocket. Why had she spoken for Garrus? As if they were a pair. A duo.

“Of course we will,” Garrus said, then turned to her. “You chose my costume last time, I think I should get to choose yours this time.”

Jesus, what kind of costume would Garrus come up with?

After saying goodbye to D’vani and Mordin, Garrus gave her the gentle nudge she needed to go back upstairs, where the light mimicked the sun and the air would fill her lungs.

## Love

Chapter Summary

> When Jane and Garrus visit the victim's parents love trickles into their minds.

Chapter Notes

> Songs I had on loop: Meeting Again, Max Richter; Paranoid, Garbage; Valley of the Dolls, Marina

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Early in his partnership with Jane, Garrus had learned that the definition of a good diner transcended species: greasy food, comfortable booths, and unending cups of coffee.

The best diner was next to the embassies, but they avoided that area for two reasons: diplomats weren’t fun to share space with, and neither was Garrus’s ex, Livia. So it was the second best for Jane and Garrus.

That didn’t matter, though. Special times weren’t about spaces, but the people you spend them with. While the diner was packed with dozens of chatting people, shouting staff, terrible asari neo-pop playing, and a salarian kid who kept crawling all over the booth behind him, Garrus barely noticed any of it with Jane across from him. When they first sat down she’d been pale, but her cheeks grew rosier by the minute.

The smell of death and chemicals in his nose had been replaced by greasy food and coffee. Half-eaten dishes sat in front of them. Their mugs had been filled too many times to count and they devoured case information on their datapads as quickly as their food.

“I’m not saying I don’t like the guy,” Garrus said. Jane pushed food around her plate, gathering up a pile. Metal scraped across plastic. “Mordin’s just a little weird.”

“He’s funny. And God, I wish I had a brain like that. Can you imagine being that smart?” Pausing, she took a large bite, sloppily chewing. “He likes you, you know. He likes joking with you.”

“Don’t you ever get the feeling he’s making a joke that you’re not in on?”

Jane just shrugged. “I try to avoid paranoid thoughts like that. Makes me anxious and ruins their fun.”

She smirked, and he gave her a look. The thought that he’d ever worry about ruining someone else’s fun at his expense was ridiculous. Did all humans think like her, or was she just that confident and carefree?

“He’s funny,” Garrus said. “Sometimes. What do you even talk about when you two hang out?”

“Well, we talk about human and salarian cultures. Music. I’ve been trying to get him to appreciate my music.”

“You mean that desperate, wailing noise you listen to?” Instead of looking up at her, he focused on his datapad. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, though, and nearly broke down with a satisfied grin when she froze mid-chew to stare him down.

Sometimes Jane got a look in her eyes that scared him senseless. It was an odd kind of scared, though, because it was also electrifying. A tickle always ran loose in his chest when she looked at him like that, along with a little flutter in his abdomen. She was brandishing that killer look then. If she hadn’t also been pretending to seem mortally wounded and betrayed, he would have immediately apologized and begged for forgiveness with a simpering grin.

“It’s called soul, Garrus.” She spoke slowly, as if she was disappointed that a delicate concept was beyond his comprehension. “And that is the sound of yearning, stirring, earth-moving love and desire.”

It wasn’t. For the most part it was screaming, crying, moaning noise; the only exception being the song they danced to in her kitchen. He hummed in feigned agreement, though. “Rocket thinks it’s pretty stirring when you sing along to it.”

A fry launched from her fingers, hit him in the cheek, and bounced down to the table. He didn’t flinch, though, and stared her down in mock seriousness. Not cracking a laugh after the fry hit him was especially difficult. “If you’re going to behave like this at the C-Sec banquet, Jane, I don’t think I’ll be able to associate with you.”

“So now I’m expected to dress up AND refrain from throwing food at you? I’m staying home.”

“Not a chance. You’re not leaving me alone with my family,” he warned her, fully serious now. “I’m not dealing with my father in addition to my sister gloating with her new mate on her arm without you there...guess I’ll just have to explain to everyone that my partner is a human-pyjak hybrid who has no manners.” He watched her, ready for a reaction, a comeback, something to make him laugh.

She picked up another fry and he grinned.

“That’s my little pyjak.”

The fry hit him square in the crest.

“With perfect aim, too. I’m so proud of her.”

A laugh burst out of her and she tried, in vain, to stick her boot-toe between his peditalons. She got a few good jabs in, but they landed on the base of the booth, not him. Her bright, warm laughter was infectious and he quickly joined in. Bringing her out of a bad mood with just a few jokes was so easy, and so rewarding. He was more proud of that than most things in his life.

Briefly, he considered asking her about dancing with him again, maybe just a little joke to see if she wanted to. But, it was probably better to let that wish fade with his feelings for her. Maybe someday they could again, when he had a better handle on his emotions. When he could hold her as a friend, and not hope to savor the touch of her skin against his.

Not hope to place his thumb over her delicate wrist, right on top of her drumming pulse, and count every beat of her heart.

They continued to eat and work through interviews, and he wisely chose to keep his mandibles tight. He didn’t even steal any looks at her, even though he wanted to. He did, however, check the time on his omnitool. Time to get going.

“Alright, let’s go over this,” Garrus said. “Samantha and Charles Udina answered a few questions last night but nothing in-depth. We basically have a pretty precise time they last saw him, but nothing else that helps. Neither of them recognized the watch. We have some door-to-door inquiries from the neighborhood. A few calls to family back on Earth.” He scrolled through his datapad. “Nothing has jumped out so far, just that Adam didn’t have a great relationship with his dad. They started fighting a bit.”

“Pretty normal for teens, though.”

“Mhhm, plus Samantha and Charles aren't registered biotics.”

“Oh.” Her brows lifted, eyes flashed. “Charles talked about researching a way to give humans without eezo exposure biotic-like abilities, though. It’s a long shot, just a dream I think.”

“Where’d you get that from?” Garrus asked.

“Woke up early, couldn’t sleep, so I read through old media interviews.”

“You need to sleep more.”

“Thank you, Dr. Vakarian.”

“I’d say something smart back,” he said, “but you’re running low on fries and get grouchy when you’re hungry.” He paused to smirk at her because she scrunched her nose at him. “Why would humans want a tool that gives them low-level biotic abilities? What’s the point?”

“Humans don’t like a power they can't have. Turians aren’t like that, are they?”

“It weakens the Hierarchy if you waste your skill wanting to be something you’re not. Plus, if the Hierarchy wants you to have something, you’d have it.”

“Damn turians, always so sensible.”

“Mm,” he agreed. “Gives us more time to practice our aim and a dozen ways to say ‘yes sir’.”

She wiped her hands on a napkin and threw back the last drips of coffee. “Alright, I’m ready. You?”

Nodding, he tucked his datapad in his jacket and they scooted out of the booth. “Yeah. On the way tell me more about these biotic dreams Charles has.”

Stepping into the diner doorway, Jane looked back at him over her shoulder. “Are you ever going to let me drive again?”

“Never,” he said, a bit astonished that she still asked. She’d have to do something really special to earn that trust back.

"Bastard," she huffed, planting herself there, blocking his exit. He gently pushed against her with his keel to get her to move, but she gritted her teeth through a playful smile, and dug in harder. Even though she was so damn light, she was still a bag of bricks when she wanted to be.

A display of asinine adult behavior ensued. Hips, knees, elbows, and hands were used, but Jane didn’t budge. It wasn’t like they could stand in the doorway and wrestle all day, though, so he wrapped his hands firmly around her waist, and with an effortless lift, she was off the ground. A surprised yelp turned to a giggle, and her feet flailed.

"I may be a bastard, but at least I'm alive, not drowned in the lake," he said as he continued to carry her down the sidewalk like she was an unruly child.

She stopped wiggling, then spread her arms wide and tilted her head back. A wave of her shampoo scent — sweetness softening the warmth on her skin — drifted from her dangling hair. "I kind of like this. I should make you carry me around more often. What other names can I call you? Asshole. Dick. Son of a bitch. My grandmother loves "you damned devil'. Watch it, woman on our left."

Garrus stepped to the right. "Devil is an evil guy right?"

"Yeah, opposite of an angel. The devil is hostile, depraved, worshiped by people with lustful thoughts. He has claws and spikes."

Garrus hummed in thought, then drawled, "Jane, you just described me perfectly."

"Suppose I did." She laughed, her muscles tightening under his fingers.

It was a quick intrusion, imagining what her muscles would feel like tensing against his mouth and tongue, but the banishment of that image was just as quick.

“Okay, ride’s over,” he said, proud of the lightness in his voice, how the humor outweighed the tightness.

The trip to Eden Glen went by fairly quickly with Jane filling him in on the interviews Charles gave about his business. Garrus listened to her smooth and relaxing voice, dissecting the information, looking for anything that could become a lead.

The artificial sun was brightly shining now, thankfully. Recalling how damned cold he’d been the night they visited the scene, a shudder rippled through his bones.

As they climbed out of the skycar a woman walking a behemoth dog greeted them with a smile and a wave. Jane smiled kindly and waved back, which invited the woman to approach them.

The dog, panting and bouncing excitedly, lunged towards Garrus and Jane and the woman reeled it back in. “You’re with C-Sec? You’re here about Adam?”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you know the Udinas?” Jane asked, her voice inviting but professional.

If the woman walking her dog hadn’t seen the squad cars around the Udina house; all outlets were reporting on the case like rabid vorcha, so it was a sure bet she knew what happened.

Jane nodded.

Touching her palm to her chest, sympathy melted over her. “I always saw him playing outside, right there, with his sister.” She gestured to the Udina’s front yard. “He’d prop her up on his hip and carry her around till she’d let him put her down. And he never complained. You never see boys his age being that sweet anymore, especially on the station. Such a sweet kid.”

They let the woman reminisce for a moment, waiting to see if there was anything else she had to say. At the end of their conversation, Jane left their contact information with her, promising to answer personally if she thought of anything else. He never did that, but Jane did.

The yard was covered in Earth vegetation, just like the others in Eden Glen. The house, three stories, was made of stone and was somehow simple but still stately. Jane explained the style replicated something called an Italian villa. A man opened the door, explained that he was Charles Udina’s assistant, and pointed to the stairs, saying they could go talk with Samantha as Charles finished up a phone call.

Garrus hadn’t been in many human homes. He’d been in Jane’s, of course, but her apartment was mostly intergalactic in design, meant to be occupied by any species. And he’d seen glimpses of her grandparent’s house when they spoke in vid chats.

But this house was different in some sense he couldn't quite put a talon on. Everything looked perfect and untouched. It contained furniture that looked old and expensive, and certainly not comfortable. Paintings lined the walls, mostly of humans posing with a rod in their spine and a fake smile tilting their mouth. There were some still lifes of fruit, of all things,, and other boring subjects.

Nothing seemed to reflect any sort of personality. Probably because nobody in that home had chosen what was on those walls. Families like the Udinas had art brokers to pick art for them.

Even across species, it was easy to tell when people had money. And no spark in their spirit.

When they reached the second story and a sweet, sad humming drifted from a room to the left.

Following it, they found Samantha in her second child’s bedroom, a little girl who was only a few years old. Adam’s little sister that he adored, according to the woman out on the street. Samantha sat in a rocking chair, holding her sleeping little girl. She wore a pink shirt, and her sandy brown hair — the same cool grey as Adam’s — fell limply around her tired face. Garrus watched her as she brushed the little girl’s head lovingly, humming a lullaby.

In the tender vocals given from mother to child, Garrus heard love. Stirring, earth-moving love.

“Mrs. Udina.” Jane nodded in greeting. Garrus let her take the lead, like he usually did when dealing with humans. Many of them still found turians a bit intimidating, and didn’t typically open up to him as quickly as they did to Jane. “I’m Detective Shepard and this is my partner, Detective Vakarian. We were hoping you’d have time to answer some questions.”

Samantha nodded slowly without looking up from her daughter, before standing and gently laying the girl down on her bed. Without her arms full, her chest heaved and her lips quaked. She buried her mouth in her palm.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Jane told her with kind eyes.

Samantha looked lost, like they always did.

“I don’t want to leave her,” Samantha said, her terrified eyes locked on her daughter.

“We can speak here if you’d prefer,” Jane said.

Samantha looked at both of them, and he could see in her eyes that she was crumbling, like someone about to fall off the edge of a cliff and they know they can’t stop it. He hated just standing there, watching it happen, because there was nothing you could ever do to help them. No hand to offer. Not really.

“I...I don’t feel real, right now. I feel so...far. And I’ll forget, for a minute. And then it all comes back and...who forgets their boy is gone? How can ...”

The woman broke down weeping, her words lost. She shouldn’t be crying. Her boy should still be alive, playing with his sister in the front yard. And Samantha Udina shouldn’t have to know what life was like without her child.

Feeling helpless, Garrus looked to Jane, and tried to still his trigger finger, tapping a beat against his leg.

“There’s no right way to feel right now,” Garrus told her, hoping to offer a little comfort with soft words Jane frequently offered victims. Being a turian, comforting victims’ family had once just been a step to tick off, a platitude advised in handbooks. In five years working with Jane, he’d learned that their kind words soothed all species, even turians.

Samantha stared back at them, and they waited for her patiently in return, not wanting to push.

“Can we stand in the hall? Is that ok?” She spoke softly, not wanting to wake her daughter. Jane and Garrus nodded together, following her out into the hall where she stood positioned so she could keep an eye on her only living child, who was now twice as precious.

“We’re going to ask some questions,” Jane said. “And they won’t be easy. Just take your time, and answer as best you can, okay?”

Samantha nodded. Her arms tightened, tears a solid stream down her pallid cheeks. First they confirmed all the vital information: when and where she last saw Adam, did she notice anything unusual. Questions like that tore their wounds freshly open, but they were necessary.

Garrus thought his time hurting people was over when his service ended, but the damage they did to the grieving was a whole new weight on his shoulders that he hadn’t quite been prepared for.

“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Adam?” Jane took the lead on the harder questions. “Any kids he fought with? Anyone he didn’t get along with?”

“No. He’s...everyone loves him. He gets along with everyone.”

It always broke his heart when people still used present tense verbs for their loved ones that were gone. Samantha’s grief reminded him that he never wanted to know what that pain felt like. Losing his mom was going to shatter his life. Losing a child…he could only imagine.

“Is there anyone who would want to hurt you or Charles?” Jane asked.

“No, I don’t really know anyone here. Charles goes to work. I...I’ve always stayed at home with the kids. I knew we shouldn’t have come here. We should be back on Earth. Safe. Adam would still be here. I should never have allowed Charles to bring us here.”

“What makes you say that, Mrs. Udina?” Garrus asked.

“Stuck out in the middle of space. God, how was I supposed to make sure he was safe, on this station? It’s a whole different world, isn’t it?” She turned to Jane. “You understand, don’t you? It’s...it’s aliens, and alien food, and biotics, and you don’t know who you can trust. Every damn human here...all that matters is money and what they can buy with it.”

His head should have been on the case, and the case only, but Garrus watched Jane for any indication she empathized with Samantha’s hatred for the Citadel.

None came, though. She simply asked, “Did you talk to your family about being unhappy here, Mrs. Udina? Did you talk to Adam, or your husband?”

“Charles knew. Adam...” Weak sobs shuttered through her, and she shrugged. “Maybe he heard.”

“We have reason to believe that Adam and Charles had been fighting lately.” Jane’s tone began to get more stern, and less comforting. It was how she got people talking. Always go in soft and understanding, get them comfortable, then she could ask the hard, personal questions.

Samantha nodded, a flash of anger hinted at the vitriolic tone that seeped out next. “Charles never paid attention to my boy. Work was more important. He wanted more people worshipping his stupid projects.”

“Did Charles ever get violent with Adam?” Jane finally asked, in a slow, hushed tone that made it seem like the answer would just be a little secret between them. That tone earned people’s trust, and they opened up to her.

Samantha’s eyes went wide.

“I’m sorry, we have to ask,” Jane explained.

Samantha shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

“And would Adam have told you?”

“Yes.” She paused, then added, “I don’t know.”

Events like this always made them question their life, what they thought they knew. Changing her answer was fairly typical. It didn’t seem like she was covering for Charles, simply that she wasn’t processing anything around her, including their questions.

A door downstairs shut. Another flash of anger narrowed Samantha’s eyes.

“I think that’s Donnel. Charles called him,” Samantha said.

Garrus, at a better vantage point than her, glanced downstairs and sure enough, Donnel Udina marched into a side room.

“We’ll go speak to Charles now, unless you have anything else you’d like to discuss,” Jane said.

Samantha shook her head again, her body already leaning towards the little girl’s room.

Jane acknowledged Samantha’s body language with a nod. “If you think of anything, please reach out. We’ll be in touch,” Jane said.

“Wait.” There was an unexpected urgency in Samantha’s voice. “I don’t know if I can ask this right now but...”

“Go ahead, we’ll tell you whatever we can.” Jane carefully watched Samantha; the urgency must have caught her attention as well.

“When can I go back home?” Samantha asked. “When is it okay to leave?”

Home. She was asking about moving back to Earth.

“Leave the Citadel? It would be good to stick around until we get a bit further,” Jane told her delicately.

Somehow, that broke Samantha. What color remained drained from her face. Her head hung, and Garrus was thankful because he was sure the woman’s sorrow would crush him too if he could see her eyes.

“Do you have family here?” Jane asked.

“Just Charles’s. I’d rather be alone, though,” she said, turning away from them, “than spend another minute with them.”

He and Jane remained in the hallway, watching Samantha sit down next to her daughter’s bed and run her hand over her small, delicate head.

Nothing broke Garrus down more than a sad mother. Deep down he knew that finding the asshole that hurt Adam wouldn’t really fix anything. It wouldn’t bring Adam back, and it wouldn’t take away Samantha Udina’s pain.

Garrus would much rather put a bullet in the asshole’s brain. He guessed Samantha Udina would prefer that solution too.

At the bottom of the stairs the assistant intercepted them, leading them to a study off the side of the living room. Charles waited for them there, pacing amongst more stiff art; images of things, not feelings or concepts. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the room, along with items that at first looked like nothing more than knick-knacks to Garrus, but probably were meaningful relics of human history. Why did the rich hoard items that should be in museums?

Sol would have a fit. She spent so much of her career trying to get her hands on turian artifacts, only to find out they’d been hawked on the black market, disappearing from the public for decades.

A single picture sat on Charles’s desk – a family picture, mother, father, two kids. Charles had his arm around Adam, who leaned into his dad with a toothy smile.

Love was there.

A similar picture sat on his own dad’s desk, seven-year-old Garrus propped on his dad’s knee, mandibles wide. Garrus could still feel his dad’s reassuring hands wrapped around his too-thin waist. He never really grew out of that lankiness.

“Hello, Mr. Udina,” Jane said. “Thank you for taking the time to see us.”

“Please, sit.” Stopping in the middle of the room, Charles gestured towards the couch, blinking strained eyes. His hair was disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it all morning. Jane’s fingers carded through her hair often. It always messed it up and made her look a little wild, like a spirit of fire.

Charles just looked fragile, though.

“Do you have anything yet? What do you know? Do you know who did this?”

All of those questions fired out rapidly as Jane and Garrus sat down on the couch.

Before either had time to even open their mouth, Charles’s hands shot out, as if he could shake information out of them. “You have to know something.”

Where the mother was in a fog, the father was in a state of panic. It was nervous energy, still running on adrenaline. Both responses were fully within the realm of normal grief, and not enough to stir any suspicion.

Enough to sink Garrus’s heart, though. The cases with kids were getting a bit taxing. Jane kneaded at her lips, and he knew she felt that weight too, even more than him.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Jane assured him with compassionate eyes. Garrus nodded.

Crossing his arm over his chest, Charles took a deep breath and buried his mouth against his fist. He came closer to them, leaning back against his desk.

“It will really help us if you can answer a few questions,” she spoke clearly and firmly. Her unique ability to soothe and compel people in the same sentence was a gift, one among many.

They went through all the same questions with Charles that they had with Samantha, and got the same answers.

It wasn’t a tensing action that told Garrus Jane was about to turn to the personal questions — the ones that would inevitably agitate — but an ease in her spirit, a look of calm confidence. “Do you admire people with biotics, sir? Admire their power?”

His expression turned blank. “I don’t understand why you’re asking this.”

“Your research into biotics, I’m just curious,” Jane explained.

“It’s a useful tool, that’s all.”

“And your company is researching it as a tool? For what purpose, exactly?”

That got a twitch out of him. This part was necessary, even if it was tough. Justice wasn’t gained through an exchange of crulums. It was hard-earned. Being an asshole was necessary in their line of work.

“Nothing solid, no. Just dreams I have. I…why are we talking about my fucking work right now, when my son…” Charles’ chest shuddered, stifling a cry. Garrus couldn’t help but feel guilty for a brief moment.

“You really think that I did something to my son?”

“You haven’t given us any reason to think that, so far,” Jane said carefully.

Donnel Udina entered the room with all the imagined authority of a rich kid who always got his way. He marched to the furthest corner of the study, a far breadth between them. The sneer on his face had the look of permanence and gave Garrus the urge to kick his knee in.

“It might help us understand Adam’s death,” Jane explained. “It’s relevant, I assure you. And you have to admit, it is an unusual goal: wanting to artificially replicate that power so quickly after humans first attained it naturally.”

Donnel huffed, whether at Jane or at Charles’s project, it wasn’t clear.

“Did Adam spend time at your office?” Garrus asked.

Charles stood straight, a wild look in his bloodshot eyes. “Sometimes, yes. He enjoyed meeting the people, learning about their jobs. And why shouldn’t I be researching it? What’s wrong with that? It’s...” His gaze shifted briefly to Garrus, as if he was defending himself against all of the Council races. “Humans just want what everyone else has possessed for centuries. It’s our right.”

Jane didn’t say anything, but some thought played in her mind.

To give Jane a chance to contemplate whatever was on her mind, Garrus took over, softening their angle to ease Charles’s defenses. “We can’t reveal why at this point, but it’s important. Are there any biotics in the neighborhood? Any of Adam’s friends?”

Charles buried his face in his hand. “I’m not sure.”

“Of course there are,” Donnel said. “Why aren’t you asking them questions if this biotics angle is so important?”

Jane shifted, making it clear to Garrus he wasn’t alone in hating the guy.

“I know it’s hard,” she said, ignoring Donnel and softening her gaze on Charles. “But we ask these questions for a reason, and the more honest and detailed your answers, the better chance we have.”

Charles drummed his fingers against the desk, but calmed after a few beats.

The conversation only lasted a while longer, but the conversation never led to any sparks.

Jane gave Garrus a nod indicating she was ready to go, and he replied to her with his own nod letting her know he was ready too. “I think that’s all for now, Mr. Udina.” Jane rose and Garrus did as well. “We appreciate your help.”

“Thank you, please let me know when you find something,” he said to Jane and Garrus before turning to his brother. “I have to go check on work. The head of development has been messaging me all morning.”

Work, not Samantha. And what kind of asshole messaged a man about work the morning after his child was murdered?

As soon as Charles was out of the room, Jane turned to Donnel. “You reacted a bit odd to the talk about your brother’s project. Do you not approve of his endeavors, or do you have a problem with biotics?”

“I never said that. We have a biotic in the family, of course I don’t oppose the use of biotics.” He nearly growled, which was quite a feat for humans who didn’t have subvocals, and his face reddened. “This is pointless. Either start asking the right questions, or I will call Executor Pallin myself and have someone more competent take over this case. This was obviously an attack on humans, committed by some alien species.” His eyes flicked to Garrus, narrowing tensely when they landed on Garrus’s mouth. A look of fear and disgust Garrus had grown used to while interacting with humans. “I’m sure you know as well as I, Detective Shepard, that they aren’t like us.”

Jane took a deep, slow breath. “How so?”

“They’re not human . Aggression is in their nature. Constantly committing violent attacks on their own kind, and others. Of course they’d target humans too, for all our accomplishments. They want to make sure we know we’re not welcome.”

Even if he complained to Pallin, nothing would come from it. And yet, Garrus held his mandibles tight, trying to keep them from clicking wildly. The threat to their careers was laughable, the bold, unrestrained hatred was hard to ignore, though.

“Any additional information you can enlighten us with?” Jane asked, anger simmering in her emerald eyes. “Did you see a non-human race with Adam in the days leading up to his death? Or did someone contact the family making threats?”

“You get along well with your partner?” Udina asked, without the nerve of even looking Garrus in the eye.

“I do,” Jane said with a smile.

Donnel seethed, saying nothing, but Jane matched his gaze without a blink.

“Well, then, we’ll reach out if we have more questions.” The coolness in her voice contrasted the heat in her eyes, but it was all so subtle. Donnel probably didn’t even pick up on it.

“Thanks for your time, sir,” Garrus said. With a sudden urge to watch a fire flare, Garrus smiled nice and wide, letting his mandibles spread out so that his sharp inhuman teeth were on full display.

Barely containing his nerves, Donnel flounced out of the room, his shaking hand smashing his omni-tool like it had insulted him. “I’m sure you can see yourselves out.”

Garrus met Jane’s gaze, and they both took deep breaths. Somewhere a door slammed.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she whispered, already on her way out of the room. Her fingers raked through her hair, messing it up just slightly. A few little wisps poked up from her head like flames. He reached out and ran his talons through them, pretending to pat them down, but mostly just enjoying the slide of silk against his still-tense fingertips.

She lazily batted at his hand, but shot him a smile. “I’m gonna buy you a wig so you can fuss with that instead.”

He drew his hand back. “What’s a wig?”

🔪🔪🔪

Jane took the front steps two at a time with Garrus’s slow footsteps falling behind her.

“Donnel has an alibi, right?” Garrus asked.

“Yeah, at home with his wife and youngest kid.”

“Mm, too bad. It’s more satisfying when the killer is an asshole I already hate.”

That got a bitter laugh out of her, and a smile. He always knew how to make her laugh, no matter the tragedies resting on their shoulders. And it was something she was deeply thankful for, because their job would be hell without the spots of brightness.

The afternoon was spent knocking on doors, visiting neighbors, asking a hundred questions over and over. It was tedious, but leads came from hard work, not from instantaneous brilliance. A few kids in the neighborhood were biotics, but they were all away at Grissom Academy. All the adults had plausible alibis. They’d have someone check, of course. But for now, they gained nothing.

Dinnertime arrived quickly, so they decided to let the neighbors be for the day.

Jane started across the street first to the skycar, figuring Garrus was right behind her. Mid-way she looked back to ask him a question, her mouth already open with the words ready to spill out. Before she got out a single syllable though, she thought she caught his eyes dart up from her ass.

Knowing for sure that she had to have food stuck on her, she immediately groaned and craned her neck to check it out herself. She was a damn mess, and he always saw her at her worst. “Do I have something on my ass?” She brushed her cheeks to knock off anything that might be stuck or smudged. “Fucking dirty diner.”

“No,” he said quickly.

Realizing he was probably embarrassed on her behalf, she felt a flush heat her chest and throat.

“I mean, I don’t know if you do or not. Why?”

“I thought you were looking at something on my pants.”

“I wasn’t looking at your ass, Jane,” he drawled, eyes focused on watching for traffic that didn’t exist.

“It’s ok if you were. I have a great ass,” Jane said, fishing for a laugh.

“I know. You and Nihlus constantly talk about how amazing it is. Like it’s a popular destination I’ve never been to.”

A surprised laugh burst out of her and he rolled his eyes.

“I mean…” His mandibles jittered.

“Have you caught my foot-in-mouth syndrome?”

“Seems we discovered a new cross-species affliction. Hey, you wanna go by the dumpsite again? I wanna see it in the daylight.”

“Without rain,” she pointed out with a sympathetic smile.

“That too.”

“Fucking ambassador,” she grumbled.

“What a wonderful representative of the human race,” Garrus said. “How in the hell did he get that position?”

“Money. Connections,” she said as they slid into their seats and he started the engine. “Better question is why the Council puts up with him.”

“Money. Connections.”

Garrus drove them the few blocks from the Udinas’ home to the wooded park. Adam had been given permission by Samantha to walk to the park on his own. Probably something else she felt guilty for.

At the dumpsite they got out of the car, and Garrus looked over to the houses across the street. “No one saw a car pull into the wooded area, right?”

“Nothing so far from the interviews. Someone's checking cameras in the neighborhood, though.”

He gave a thoughtful hum. “Alright, so what do you really see in the parents?”

“Divorce,” she said honestly. It slipped out before she thought better of it.

Garrus laughed softly, bitterly. Turians didn’t understand divorce, but a biological predisposition to mating for life would do that. To them, divorce wasn’t just two people going their separate ways to live happier lives, it was a deep loss, a severing of something permanent and whole. The turian divorce rate was eight percent — most separations due to abuse or neglect and were truly irreconcilable — while the human rate consistently hovered around fifty-eight. For some reason, fickle human monogamy hit Garrus harder than other turians. His eyes were on her, heavy and brimming with an unspoken thought that would remain a mystery to her, because he didn’t voice his sentiments regarding love anymore. Her heart hurt for him as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked upwards at the treetops.

“My Papa always told my Gran that he’d sit in a pit of mud with her and be the happiest man in the world still.”

Garrus nodded, understanding her, hopefully. Humans were capable of life-long love as well. Maybe knowing that would give him some hope that love was possible for him again?

What she wanted to say was that she could absolutely, without a single doubt, imagine loving him for the rest of her life, if she let herself. Life-long friendship was their future, though. Not love.

While Garrus contemplated the treetops, Jane answered him finally. “I saw a lack of hostility. They’re angry, sure, but within normal range. A presence of sincerity. Nothing felt off with them. And neither possess biotic power, so unless they had help, it seems unlikely either of them did it.”

“The only responses that really gave me pause were her wanting to leave so quickly, and his reaction to your questions about biotics.”

She nodded, but also shrugged. “But she’s grieving, and dissociating I think. She doesn’t like it here and she has no connections. I don’t think her fleeing is about guilt, not about the murder at least. I think she doesn’t like it here, may not be in love with her husband, and she expressed guilt about bringing her son to a place where he was murdered.”

Garrus nodded, a softness returning to his eyes. “Just a mom wishing away things that had been in her control, because the actual problem is out of her control.”

“Yeah. And I think the dad loved his kid.”

“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be looking into his biotic interests, though. He admitted Adam visited his office. We should make a trip.”

Jane kicked the dirt, dragging the toe of her boot and marking a sharp curve. “Sure. And, he was murdered somewhere else. We need to find the site.”

They examined the dumpsite, the spot they found the watch, the thruster marks, and every spot in between. Eventually, the nightcycle descended like an overhead light dimming, so they piled back in the car.

“Are we going to Nihlus’s?” she asked, giving him hopeful eyes. “I think it would be fun.”

“If you want to,” was all he said.

“Want to swing by my place so I can change?”

“Yeah, I think I have a sweatshirt and some pants there too, so we both can.”

On the way Jane stared at the traffic ahead of them, Garrus’s grip strangling the skycar wheel. These cases, the ones involving the most innocent victims, made her sad and reflective. Garrus got angry and focused, though. He always teased her about looking scary when she was mad, but he was capable of scaring the shit out of people all on his own.

Not that these moods scared her anymore. They just made her ache to take his hand in hers, and give him some comfort.

When they first met, his quiet, calm anger certainly made her think twice before she said anything. Before long though, she admired his compassion for others and his desire to give the dead justice.

Inside their dark skycar they sailed along at an easy pace while traffic zipped past them. Why did Garrus always drive so slow? It was something she contemplated quite often on their trips, but she never came up with a satisfying answer.

It never bothered her – it was soothing, actually. She could imagine being in a car with him on Earth. Taking a slow drive through the countryside with her arm out the window, the sun warming her skin, and Garrus at ease behind the controls. They’d pass by trees, and fields, and small produce stands.

She wished he was going on this trip with her, to finally visit Earth and meet her family in person.

“What are you smiling about?” Garrus asked, his voice warm once again, not tense.

His question broke her reverie. He’d caught her smiling at him like a fool. At some point, her eyes must have begun gazing at him instead of the world outside.

If she didn’t tell him soon, he’d figure it out, surely. How many longing gazes had she allowed herself, though, that he never caught?

“Nothing, just thinking of being back home,” she finally said, and they both left it at that.

Regardless of the reason Garrus drove so slowly, she enjoyed her time with him. Samantha’s eagerness to leave her home and her husband, and Papa’s words about sitting in a mud pit with her Gran, drifted into her heart. It really was true, when you cared about someone, any place was special. Every moment was precious. Which was why, despite missing her family and Earth, she could never see herself leaving the Citadel, as long as Garrus was there, and as long as they were friends.

As if reading her mind, Garrus said, “Samantha sure hates it here. Do you? Even a little?”

“No, I mean life is different here. You know I miss the sun and nature, and I miss my family—”

“You only have five more years on your recruitment contract.”

“I know.”

“Think you’ll go back to Earth then?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

She watched him, waiting to see his reaction, thinking he’d show some sign of relief or approval, but he was as stiff as stone and didn’t speak a word. The silence created an empty space that felt wrong.

So, she filled it with words herself. With a smile, she said, “How am I supposed to retire a single old woman, by your side, if I move back to Earth?”

Garrus smiled back, but it was as if someone had asked him to do it as a favor, not because it came from his heart.

They sailed on, traffic zipping, Garrus’s hands controlling the wheel, and Jane watching the world outside blur behind them.

Chapter End Notes

> I have two chapters coming up next that are 100% brand-new content and I'm so excited to get them posted! I can promise fun, sexiness, and lots of Nihlus 😁

> Thanks for reading, and Happy New Year 😊

## Contact: Part One

Chapter Summary

> Garrus gets stuck on a cross, and Jane gets stuck in a conversation

Chapter Notes

> Song I had on loop: Lonely Hearts Club, Marina

See the end of the chapter for more notes

There’s a unique intimacy in standing beside someone while waiting to be let into a person’s home. In that moment, it’s just the two people standing side-by-side, a little declaration of being bound, waiting for something to happen. Together.

Mind ripe with heavy thoughts, Jane looked up at Garrus and smiled absentmindedly.

Hands buried deep in his pockets, he smiled back.

Did Garrus ever think those things? Did he ever wonder about their tightly-fitted existence?

Every point of contact in their relationship was constructed of unique intimacies, individual acts of closeness that they’d never share with anyone else. Conjecturing about the last moments of someone’s life, comforting a victim’s loved ones while surreptitiously accusing them of murder, riding in a skycar while the Citadel lights washed them in neon rainbows, showing up to a friend's house to watch a game.

If life was a puzzle, on every individual piece they were together, and all the pieces fit so perfectly, each curve and angle wedging seamlessly into the next.

Would confessing her feelings disrupt that seamlessness, or would it just become another odd little intimacy: the night she finally told him how deeply her affection ran and they had to talk through it, wedged in between their love of vampire vids and him holding her in a dirty alley while her blood coated his hands. Jane wasn’t sure if she’d rather her confession be a violent upheaval, pieces of them spilling and scattering, or another banal part of them that occurred and passed, never amounting to anything dimensional.

No. It was wrong to think that their relationship lacked dimension when in fact it was the truest, deepest bond she’d ever had. Her heart wanted deeper, though, and that warped her perception.

In some deep little recessed pit of her selfish heart, she wanted to shake the puzzle, even if it broke apart and scattered. Any motion would be better than their perpetual, inescapable stasis.

Standing at Nihlus’s door with destruction on her mind, Jane realized her confession was a loaded gun held in her anxious hands. Pulling the trigger, feeling the click, was inevitable, and the dread, the hanging tension, made her itch from throat to foot. She couldn’t pull it just yet, though, not when he looked so happy and their friendship was so seamless. And not when they had a fresh case on their hands.

His assessing, caring eyes traveled her face. “Long day.”

The words slipped out before she thought to inflect them with humor, or downplay the warmth in her voice. “Yeah,” she said. “But you always make them better.”

It wasn’t Nihlus who opened the door and saved Jane from herself, but Kasumi. Typically, even at work, a hood concealed her hair and hovered just above her browline, but that night it hung at her back, letting her un-shadowed brown eyes shine bright with excitement.

Upbeat instrumental music played inside, the turian equivalent of jazz to Jane’s ear, it was energetic but calm. Playful, yet soothing.

Tucking a strand of long, raven hair behind her ear, Kasumi softly smirked. “Hey, guys. Say cheese.”

“Cheese?” Garrus asked, voice thick with scoff, as Jane noticed the little drone hovering at Kasumi’s shoulder. Just as Jane opened her mouth to say ‘no pictures’ a click sounded. Jane flinched, suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of a real gun aimed at her, firing, and pain spearing through her body.

Garrus’s warm, heavy hand landed on her back, a shield against her impulse to panic.

Unaware of Jane’s thumping heart, Kasumi cheerfully glanced at her omni-tool. “That one’s perfect. Awkward, but an accurate portrayal of you two. Adorable.”

Jane and Garrus’s groans were so equal in pitch that it was hard to tell his form hers, rich subvocals the only divergence.

After ditching their boots by the front door, they followed Kasumi in.

Nihlus had money. It wasn’t absolutely clear how because he had never explained, but it had something to do with the four years he spent as a Spectre in between his Hierarchy service and joining C-Sec. Jane still wasn’t sure exactly what Spectres did, besides play cowboy for the Council, but he made enough in that time to amass a nice nest egg. Not enough to afford a place as large as her Uncle David’s, but enough to own a damned fine apartment that was out of reach for the average C-Sec officer.

Nihlus’s apartment was distinct and impressive, yet inviting. Warm lighting placed thoughtfully through each room illuminated dark walls. He kept the lighting low and focused in small gathering spaces. It made for excellent hanging out spaces, or napping, in Jane’s case

Beyond the living room and kitchen were floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a stunning view of the nearby stadium. The skyline was aglow in game-night lights, bright and flickering to rile up the forty thousand people sitting in the stands.

Jane followed Kasumi towards the kitchen island where Nihlus stood, offering a welcoming smile. Garrus trailed after her, hand no longer on her but still close. His presence at her back or side was a constant, like the sun rising, moon shining, stars sparkling.

The massive island was large enough for someone Jane’s size to lay on, and judging by the rings drilled into the cabinetry below, Jane made a guess that people did in fact lay down on it, rope criss-crossed around their body. If Nihlus wasn’t a meticulously clean guy, she’d worry.

“Jane,” Nihlus said warmly. “I picked up your favorite stout. The clerk thought you might like this, though. Said it’s perfect for someone who likes dark beer and whiskey.” He held up a bottle with intricate, scrolling letters and a deep burgundy label. “Preference?”

“That sounds great,” she said pointing to the pretty bottle in his hand. “Thanks, Nihlus.”

Pouring a perfect frothy head for her, Nihlus said, “Garrus, horosk is on the back counter or beer’s in the fridge.”

Garrus gave Nihlus a pat on the shoulder — receiving a tug on the fringe in return — and got a beer, pouring it into a glass before returning to Jane’s side at the island. Kasumi sat atop a stool, halfway into a glass of wine, smiling as her little camera drone hovered at her shoulder and clicked. J ane gave it the finger.

“It’s her new toy,” Nihlus said, an affectionate gleam in his eye. “She gets some pretty great shots from it.”

“I’m testing out a program that’ll improve scene photography, teaching it to learn favored shots, able to predict the most crucial. Can’t wait to see how it adjusts throughout the night.”

“You just feel free to not share those. With anyone,” Garrus said.

Kasumi gave Garrus a wink.

“How’d the lake go?” Jane asked Nihlus.

“Terrible, but we got an ID on her right away, and found her girlfriend holed up in their apartment with the murder weapon.”

That got somber nods from the group. They’d joked that morning, the gallows humor typical of any grim job and of course she’d joined in, but the image of lovers, one scared, one angry, violence rising in what should have been a loving space sent a cold shot up her spine. Anger, violence, fear, raised fists and shouts. There was such ugliness in the world, and it was hard to turn that off so it didn’t make her choke on the drink or food — or breath — she tried to take in.

She took a steady sip and listened to Garrus’s voice — not the words he spoke—as he told Nihlus about their day, and that did the trick; her mind calmed, and work washed away.

Nihlus got dinner ordered for them, saying they would love what he’d picked for them. He was always right.

Conversation turned to the teams playing that night, and Jane immediately tuned it out. Palae was confusing; she still barely understood the rules and had zero opinions on teams, tactics, or stats. The guys looked hot in the uniforms, that’s about all she really knew. Oh, and to cheer when the player with the big bat got the tulise in the loop.

Letting a sip of cold beer alight her tongue in sensuous layers of caramel, coffee, and the sweet-bitter hops that always soothed her worries like a steadfast friend, Jane looked around Nihlus’s apartment for something more interesting than Cipritine’s alarming season stats. Nihlus had only lived there, what, six months? And he’d already settled in. Garrus had lived in his place for five years and still lived like a temporary tenant.

It’s not like Garrus didn’t have good taste — he’d helped her pick out furniture and had chosen Nihlus’s art for him. Well, aside from the nudes. Those were Nihlus’s own touch. They counted as fine art, still — innovative play on lighting and posing. But Garrus tastes leaned towards landscapes and abstracts. And while he admired full-bodied portraits, he gravitated towards the exploration of form, rather than scintillating angles and curves.

They’d spent a lot of time in art museums on days off the last few years, and he’d taught her a few things.

What had Garrus done with her portrait? The one he painted at their wine thing. She hadn’t seen it since that night. Had he just shoved it in a closet and forgotten about it?

Finger-tapping the bright, jazzy beat against her glass, Jane’s eyes wandered over recent renovations and decor additions; she saw a set of rings installed in a wall between the vidscreen and the library shelves, then a thick chain hanging from the ceiling, the end dangling just above the height of a person.

Jesus, the entire apartment was rigged up in bondage installations, which shouldn't have been a surprise; he wasn’t one to carry shame. An amused smile almost sneaked out, but she pursed her lips to contain it.

Quickly shooing away the image of Nihlus engaged in wild sex acts out of her mind, Jane’s eye wandered to the new lamps that immited a cozy glow at each side of the couch. Her eyes stopped on the rope resting in a tidy coil.

Alright, she had to tease him.

“Nihlus, you’ve made some bold decor decisions. More libertine than my taste, but…”

With an easy smile that cocked a mandible out, he said, “It’s heavy despite the minimalist design, and I didn’t feel like lugging it into my bedroom before you came over.”

Immediately certain that he was talking about something she’d missed, Jane turned to the group and followed Garrus and Nihlus’s gaze to the back of his apartment, near the bookcase and windows where a large, upright, X-shaped wooden cross took up half a wall.

“Okay,” Jane said, “I thought the hooks and chains were a bit much, but you have a cross ? Just sitting out here?”

“Everything else is tucked away,” Nihlus said.

“Where? Jane asked. “Do you have a massive closet or something?”

“No” — he jutted his chin towards Jane and Garrus — “I keep most of it in the island drawers right by you.”

Jane couldn’t resist, she stepped back and pulled out the side-by-side drawers, which may not have been a massive closet, but they were massive drawers — deep and long, and clearly organized by someone with a touch of OCD. Ropes, plugs, gags, floggers, cuffs, you name it, Nihlus had multiple variations. Spreader bars, too, good lord.

“Do you ever have vanilla sex?” Jane asked.

He shrugged. “Sometimes. It’s tiring rigging someone up, I don’t always have the energy.”

“What the hell is this?” Jane grabbed an incredibly odd shaped, heavy metal object out. She could imagine a dick going in one end, maybe, but had no idea what the other would be for. It had to be some kind of torture kink thing.

Nihlus’s mandibles jittered. “Dammit, how’d that get in there?”

“If you’re embarrassed about it being in here with the rest of this, I don’t think I want to know what it does.”

“It’s a meat grinder.”

“Like, grinding your dick?”

A laugh, at her expense, trickled out of Garrus. Jane elbowed him.

“No, Jane.” Nihlus reached across the island and took the tool from her hand. “I make dinner with it, chaffa steaks, usually.”

“Oh,” Jane said, her cheeks heating, and she let out a light chuckle at herself.

Nihlus’s gaze flicked to Kasumi, who gave a proud smile, immediately airing her guilt at hiding the utensil in with the sex toys. He reached out, tenderly taking her chin in his grasp and smiling back.

A coil wound around Jane’s ribcage, threads of happiness for Nihlus and Kasumi’s intimacy, soured by twanging wires of jealousy because she had no idea how good it would feel to have a hand tenderly take her chin like that, but she guessed it would feel really good.

“I couldn’t resist,” Kasumi said. “Jane got the joke.” She turned to Jane and Garrus. “They’re really good, his chaffa steaks. You guys should come over some time and we can make them.”

“Mhm,” NIhlus said, “Kasumi makes the best dumplings to go with them.”

Jane nodded an “ok” to the dinner offer, then turned to Garrus so they could share a snicker, but his sharp gaze was stuck on the X shaped cross. “What is that, vetula captovus?”

“Yeah, the grain is smooth, best wood for an honor cross.”

Jane eyed Kasumi, though she tried not to. Nihlus had an active sex life to say the least, and he and Kasumi still weren’t partners, last Jane knew. How did Kasumi not ripple with jealousy when he talked about having sex with other people? Just the thought of someone checking Garrus out sent jealousy pumping through Jane’s blood.

Garrus hummed in thought. “Can’t imagine it actually holds anyone large. Vetula captovus is too soft. It’ll buckle under any strain.”

Such a goddamn dork. A huge sex device and all he could talk about was the construction and choice of material.

“I’ve had a guy taller than you in it,” Nihlus said. “Why do you think I wanted ceilings so high? Not just for the amazing views.” Nihlus gave Garrus’s height a sweep. “Although, your arms certainly are freakishly long.”

“They’re proportional.”

“They might be too long for the cross.”

That little suggestion stole Jane’s breath, Garrus’s wide hips and body splayed wide striking her mind like a hot iron. The latent breath she took probably even sounded like a hiss.

The goading was apparent a mile away, but Garrus was too invested in the construction of the device to pick up on Nihlus’s trap. He set down his drink and walked over. Jane watched, begging him not to do what she knew he was going to do, because her mind was already there and her body was already doing things. Nihlus followed after him, and as soon as Garrus reached it Nihlus extended an arm on the device, snapped a buckle and had Garrus’s wrist in it. Before Jane could force herself to find something else to look at. Once the strap was on there was no peeling her eyes away. Nihlus nudged Garrus back against the center, and had the other wrist restrained.

“Put your feet up,” Nihlus said, tapping Garrus’s ankles. Garrus was already tugging his wrists, giving a deep grunt while testing the device’s craftsmanship. The fact that Jane wasn’t moaning simply at the sight of him really should have earned her a commendation. This was an incredibly terrible way to find out she might have a bit of a bondage fetish.

Or maybe it was just a Garrus fetish.

She should go. To the bathroom. To watch the stadium lights flashing in anticipation of the start of the game. Anywhere else, really.

Of course, Jane had decided to let her feelings flow freely, but if she was going to spiral into a disastrous crash, her lust for Garrus streaming behind her in rippling banners, she’d rather it not happen in front of an audience.

Nihlus crouched down. Spreading his legs, Garrus lifted his feet onto the supportive planks, and both ankles were restrained. With two quick flips the planks were lowered.

And Jane could not look away.

Jane sipped her beer and could not look away. Garrus was prone, arms high above his head, biceps stretched and bursting beneath fabric, stomach exposed, but just a little, just a peek’s worth. His spread legs offered the perfect space for someone — and god she wanted it to be her — to kneel beneath him.

Garrus was completely, tightly, tantalizingly restrained. His body shifted, testing the hold, but the only product of his strain was Jane fogging up her glass with a hot breath.

“Hm, it doesn’t look this strong, “ Garrus said, impressed, like he was testing out a structural beam and not a damned sex device. “Must pressure treat the wood.”

Nihlus rose up and gave Garrus’s thigh a hard, thwacking pat, making every muscle in his seven-foot frame jerk against the restraints. Jane’s breath caught.

“Told you, you’ll never get out,” Nihlus said. “You can struggle for hours and only tire yourself out.”

“Fine, you’re right,” Garrus graciously admitted.

“What’s your safe word?” Nihlus said.

Garrus frowned, eyes wide in exasperation dragging to Nihlus. “Stop.”

“Not a very creative safe word.”

“You’re the only one who thinks you’re funny. Let me out.”

“I think he’s a little funny.” Kasumi said, then raised her brows at Jane, who chose to pretend to be deaf and blind at that moment.

“No,” Nihlus said simply, and walked away. “Some contemplation time might make you think twice about being a know-it-all.”

Without Nihlus in the picture, Jane’s mind freely and with a will of its own roamed. To her on her knees in front of Garrus. Between his legs. Her lips sneaking across his skin and him looking down at her with dark, need-filled eyes. No, eyes begging her to put her mouth on his —

“Nih, stop being a dick,” Garrus called out.

From the corner of her eye, Jane watched Nihlus sit down on the couch and turn the vidscreen on. “You don’t want to miss the start of the match, do you? Kasumi or Jane can get you down while I get it started up.”

No fucking way was Jane going over there.

But when the door chimed with the food delivery Kasumi was gone.

Garrus huffed, watching her go, then glared at Nihlus. And the whole time, all Jane did was stare with her warm lips resting against the cool rim of her glass, because god dammit her eyes would not leave the sight of Garrus strapped to a sex cross, completely vulnerable, and just. There.

Jane lowered her glass and bit her lip.

Garrus looked at her, pleading eyes and tight, frustrated mandibles. “Mm, can you, uh…?”

“Oh, um.” A quick glance at Nihlus flipping through channels and Kasumi going out into the hall told her neither was interested in helping Garrus down, and she was just standing there. It would be awkward if she didn’t help.

Fucking god dammit.

She set her drink down, wiping her suddenly sweaty hands on her thighs.

His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. His talons dug into his palms — she imagined the reason being pleasure and not irritation. His thighs looked so thick, and his hips so wide. With each step her eyes remained locked on his, and his arresting gaze reeled her forward.

It was all in her mind. It was all awkward energy and vain hope.

As she neared him his deep, dark indigo eyes looked directly down at her, because dammit he was even taller strapped up on that thing. A foot, at least.

He swallowed hard around a lump in his throat. Stopping at his feet, she looked up, way up. Her eyes, and mouth, level with his sternum.

“I don’t think I can reach, actually,” she mumbled.

Somewhere behind her a mechanical click sounded. Garrus and Jane both groaned. God damned drone camera.

“There’s a stool behind it,” Nihlus called from the couch, now focused on the announcers shooting the shit, talking about some stupid stat. He was such a damned brat. “Undo the ankles first though, and make sure you put the planks back up, unless you want him falling on top of you.”

Jane’s nose scrunched and she nodded. She went down on her knees and wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans again. Receiving instructions from Nihlus on how to get Garrus out of sex furniture... What the fuck.

“Sorry,” Garrus said, actually sounding as embarrassed as she felt.

“Never let Nihlus strap you up in a sex furniture,” Jane said, forcing the humor through her quiet, carefully contained voice.

“Heh, that’s not advice I ever thought I’d need.”

She looked up at him from between his legs, and as soon as his eyes met hers, she couldn't help the chuckle that tumbled out of her. God, he was handsome. He was truly too pretty for his own good.

She made sure to flip the planks up, just then getting a bit irritated that Nihlus clearly thought she’d never used one of these before. Well, she hadn’t, but he didn’t need to assume she had a boring sex life.

With her hand wrapped around his ankle, she unbuckled the first strap, then shifted to the other. She thought she heard a rumble in his chest, but supposed it was pure embarrassment. Though, she’d expect a trill instead if that were the case.

Garrus lowered his feet onto the planks, and shifted his hips. She even noticed his thigh muscles swelled with tension. His stupid tight pants never hid anything; of course he was just stretching, but she imagined so much more.

His long back arching, indigo eyes shutting, soft panting breaths and warm skin and a quiet, rippling moan; talon tipped fingers tensing and large hand fisting around a knot of her hair.

Fuck .

When she stood, she got a bit light-headed and before thinking straight put a hand on Garrus’s keel to balance herself.

“Sorry,” she said, allowing herself to notice the way his hide warmed her palm, even through his sweatshirt. “Stood up too quick.”

“Really, Jane, no need to apologize to the guy strapped to his friend’s sex furniture. It’s just more embarrassing for us both.”

Their soft laughter eased the tightness held in her hands. They did everything together, didn’t they? Laughed together, got embarrassed together. Too bad she was the only one turned on at that moment, because feeling turned on with Garrus might just cause worlds to collide. A cosmic event if there ever was one.

Up on the stool she was just tall enough to reach the wrist straps, which were tight and digging into his flesh. He caught her grimace and frowned with a questioning browplate ticked upwards.

“Does that hurt?” she asked, wrapping her hand around his wrist and sliding the leather out of the metal buckle.

Any readable expression melted from his face. “Uh, no,” was all he said before clearing his throat. Somehow, for some inexplicable reason, she felt like a pervert simply for asking if his skin was chaffed.

Quietly, Garrus got down and straightened clothes. Jane grabbed her drink, because god did she need the taste of alcohol on her tongue. With a sip she drowned her terrible, horrible thoughts.

Jane followed Garrus to the living room where Kasumi set out their dishes – Jane and Garrus’s on the table in front of the sofa, Kasumi’s right by Jane’s. Nihlus sat in a massive chair, legs spread wide and already digging into his food.

Jane sank into the plush cushion. She loved his couch, it was like the best hug you’d ever had. You could snuggle into it for hours and feel totally at peace, which after their long day and a palae match playing, was probably what Jane would end up doing.

“Ah, your partner rescued you, good,” Nihlus said as Garrus passed behind him.

That got Nihlus a hard tug to his fringe before Garrus sat down next to Jane, thankfully with enough space between them for Jane to imagine that nothing awkward had just happened. Not at all.

She took the first bite of her food, a dish smelling of rich spices that melted into a savory pool over her tongue. “Damn, Nihlus,” she said around a cheekful, “this is so good.”

Nihlus smiled warmly.

On the vidscreen, the players began their march out to the field, all stern and orderly — there were a few asari, but most were turian, and they walked like it. Nerds. Sexy nerds.

Jane set her fork down and took a large, slow drink while she watched the male players’ hips swaying side-to-side. Running her bottom lip over the rim of the glass shoved against her mouth, she savored the smooth, rigid contact, the touch of her own skin against a foreign object.

That’s when Jane realized something incredibly embarrassing and doubly frustrating. Looking between Garrus, Nihlus, and Kasumi with furtive glances, her cheeks flushed with heat — she was sex-starved. Her own solo activities just weren’t cutting it anymore. She needed to feel someone’s skin, someone’s tight muscles and greedy hands.

Garrus nudged her elbow just as she noticed a recognizable player by the vibrant purple strokes down his steel-grey cheeks.

“It’s your boyfriend,” Garrus said, popping a chunk of meat in his mouth.

One drunken rant about a palae player's ass, and she would be suffering a lifetime of teasing, it seemed. “I’m allowed to admire people’s physiques, it’s normal,” Jane grumbled. If her cheeks had flushed before, Garrus’s teasing had them burning.

Did Garrus get so weird about her attraction to turians because of his lack of attraction to humans? He always acted so stiff about it, even though he teased her openly.

“Sure, but you seemed to have a special relationship with that guy’s ass,” Nihlus joked.

“ I’d like to have a special relationship with his ass,” Kasumi said, mimicking a squeeze with two pulsing hands.

Nihlus chuckled and nodded. Jane chuckled too around her mouthful of food, until she caught Garrus’s exasperated little roll of his subvocals.

“Am I the only one here to watch the game?”

“I can double-task,” Nihlus said. “Though I can't promise I’ll dedicate a full half hour to ranting about Tyrus Hequlim’s physique.”

Jane threw a pillow at Nihlus for that. It hadn’t been thirty minutes.

The first period flew by while Jane devoured every bite on her plate, stopping short of licking the sauce up. Another beer and she would have. After such a long day, the meal filled her stomach and her soul with a satisfying weight; she sunk into the couch, curling into herself. The two beers certainly added to the weight.

As the cameras switched over to the analysts, Nihlus turned to Garrus. “Can you look at my wand? It’s dead, and I’d like to avoid buying another if it’s just a loose wire or something.”

“Wand?” Jane said through a bubbly snicker. “What are you, a wizard?”

Nihlus gave her an amused look. “Well, now I know what I’m getting you for your birthday.”

“Probably dielectric breakdown,” Garrus grumbled over them. “I told you to buy the other model. The capacitor in yours isn’t rated for the voltage you constantly have it set to.”

“I like the grip on mine, and you can replace the capacitor.”

“Fine,” Garrus said, setting down his plate, trying very hard to sound put out even though everyone in that room knew he’d basically beg to do it if Nihlus reneged the ask.

By the time Garrus and Nihlus disappeared into Nihlus’s bedroom, Jane put that whole little back and forth between them together. “Is Garrus fixing a vibrator?” she asked Kasumi.

“No, his violet wand, it’s a short stick with attachments that carry electrical currents. You pass it over skin and it gives little tingling shocks…or very intense shocks, depending on the setting.”

Jane stopped midchew. “Jesus.”

Kasumi shrugged. “I get it. It’s not really my thing, but I get why other people enjoy receiving it. Or in Nihlus’s case, using it on others.”

“You guys use it?”

“No. We enjoy sensual things like massages, cuddling, and we take baths together too sometimes, but we haven't moved beyond that yet. Nothing shocking like stimulation play at this point.” Kasumi giggled at her own joke.

Jane was too focused on what Kasumi said before to laugh, and struggled not to let her mouth gape. “You take baths? How do you take baths and not have sex?”

“Boundaries, and communication. They’re relaxing after a long day. He uses the wand on his sexual partners, though.”

Kasumi said it so casually, not an ounce of hesitation or sourness. How could she talk about Nihlus and his escapades with fuck buddies so casually, and how could he even have those escapades? She and Garrus used to talk about sex, but that pretty much went away when she started having feelings, so how could Nihlus and Kasumi talk about his sex life so openly.

What if Garrus actually had a sex life like that too, though? He wasn’t dating, sure, but he could still be hooking up with people. They’d been spending less time together, so it’s not like Jane would know. For all she really knew, he could be just like Nihlus, people coming and going from his apartment, his long arm reaching into a drawer or cabinet of whatever kink stuff he was into. God, why did she have to realize that, and picture it? Why didn’t she know what kinks he was into? They were friends, friends talked about sex.

There she was living celibately because she yearned for him, and he was probably still having sex just as often as he’d like with…god, who? Random faces with wide-mandible smiles and pretty colony markings and striking jewel-toned eyes flitted through her fuzzy mind. Her stomach sank into itself and her vision spinned, and it wasn’t the alcohol.

Kasumi's eyes, filled with curiosity and a little concern, stared at her. “You look like you just realized something terrible.”

Jane shook her head, then bit her lip, but that didn’t keep her from saying, “It doesn’t bother you?” Jane gestured around them, at the chains and the cross and the rope, that he used on other people, not Kasumi.

“That he has sex?”

“Don’t you get jealous? If…” Jane’s feelings for Garrus dangled at the tip of her tongue. Stupid alcohol, it was going to get her in trouble one day. “I’d die if someone I liked was openly hooking up with other people.”

Kasumi simply shrugged. “We both understand we’re not together, and we have no obligations at this point. It’s like knowing your friend had a piece of cake without you. Yeah, the cake would be nice to eat, but I don’t get mad at him for eating it by himself. The unusual thing about our relationship is my part in it, isn’t it? That I need time to figure things out. He’s a patient man.”

“But you think you'll eventually be mates?”

Kasumi took a breath in, her head tick-tocking side-to-side. “I hope so.”

“You’ve been grieving so long, I can only imagine that kind of love.”

“I’ve healed, mostly.” Kasumi gathered her bent legs to her chest, wrapped her arms around them. “I do adore Nihlus, and I want a relationship to work, but I worry about our actual potential, you know?”

“Why?”

“He’s always been in open relationships, or poly, and I’m just not sure that’s for me long term. I mean I know I don’t want an open relationship. Poly might work, but finding a forever partner is so rare, let alone finding more.” Kasumi’s voice softened then. “I guess I just fear sharing him, especially if it’s with someone I don’t also love.”

“Maybe talking to Nihlus would help? Let him know how you feel.”

“Oh we talk through everything.” A small, warm smile quirked the corner of her mouth up. “Nihlus is a wonderful listener, and it’s easy to be open with him.”

Boundaries. Communication. Kasumi and Nihlus had it all worked out, even if their relationship wasn’t quite settled, they at least talked about it with trust and honesty. With a heavy sigh, Jane flopped against the back cushion. How could she and Garrus be so close, and not also be capable of talking through their feelings? If they had that she wouldn't worry so much about hurting him, and losing what they did have.

“What about you?” Kasumi asked.

“What about me?” Reflexively, Jane sank further into the couch, drowning into the cushions and letting the blanket swallow her up.

“You haven’t dated in years.”

True, except for the date with Kaiden last night. That could just fade into obscurity, though, along with all her shame for even asking him on a date.

“I think I’ll just be happy to spend my life working on cases and watching dumb vids with Garrus, I don’t think I need anything more.”

“Sure, but maybe more is possible.” There was a flash of sincerity in Kasumi’s eyes, a disarming tenderness, that made the next two words hit so much deeper, and harder. “With Garrus.”

Jane’s focus shot to the bedroom door, a thump in her heart spiking. Of course she was going to confess to Garrus, but on her own terms, when she was prepared, not because he overheard her talking about it with someone else.

“Don't worry,” Kasumi said, winding the tip of her hair around her finger. “They can't hear us. Nihlus sings in the shower and I never hear him out here.”

“Garrus isn’t attracted to humans.” So that she didn’t say any more, Jane held her tongue, but that didn’t hold back the impulse to offer a smile, an unconvincing one she feared.

Kasumi had teased her before. This was just another tease.

That damned disarming tenderness turned as warm as honey. “My humble opinion: he is.”

And just as messily sticky as honey, too.

“He said he never wants to be in a relationship again. With anyone.”

“Those are just words, though. Garrus expresses himself through touch, and he’s so affectionate with you.”

“He touches Nihlus too…”

With a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, Kasumi’s chin tilted. “Sure, but he doesn’t touch Nihlus like he touches you.”

Jane’s heart shoved up into her throat, and she wasn't sure if it was anger, or panic, or words that were heavy with impatience to get out.

“Are you?” Kasumi asked. “Interested in a relationship? With him?”

“I’d like to talk about pretty much anything else,” Jane blurted.

“Fair. I won’t push.”

Gratitude softened Jane’s nerves. Kasumi was just curious, and there was no harm in that. The subject was just too fresh, too raw.

“You and Nihlus have grown closer,” Jane said, changing the subject without a drop of grace. Talking about Kasumi and Nihlus’s wonderful, evolving, tender relationship was better than talking about her and Garrus.

“How so?”

Jane brushed the very tip of her chin with her finger, the way Nihlus had touched Kasumi in the kitchen, and again felt a spark of jealousy. Her jealousy swelled when Kasumi’s fond smile blossomed again.

“You know, touch triggers the release of oxytocin, which promotes emotional bonding to others. That’s why we make sure to share sensual contact when we can, it keeps us close.”

“Mhm,” Jane said, eyeing her empty glass sitting on the coffee table.

“Just saying.” Kasumi shrugged.

Jane sat up, swiping the glass into her tense hand. Garrus’s constant touches played through her mind. Fingers in her hair, palm on her back, and his hands on her waist carrying her down the sidewalk.

Garrus shows his affection through touch.

Jane banished the thoughts. “Did not expect an Intro to Psychology lecture tonight, but I’m happy for you Kasumi.”

She rose to get another beer.

Chapter End Notes

> This chapter got a bit long, so I'm breaking it up into two parts. The second will be posted soon.

> As always, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed this new content that didn't exist in the original version. I had a lot of fun writing it :)

## Contact: Part Two

Chapter Summary

> Garrus surprises Nihlus, and Nihlus shocks Jane

Chapter Notes

> Songs I had on Loop: Lonely Hearts Club, Marina; Headfirst for Halos, My Chemical Romance; Happiness is Butterfly, Lana Del Rey

> Also, I had the amazing elleweird (you can find her on tumblr @elleweird) draw this exquisite picture of Jane and Garrus. It perfectly captures these two dorks, so I gave it a little moment in this chapter.

> Enjoy :)

Calibrating systems had always been one of Garrus’s particular skills and had gotten him through some rougher segments of his life. The year he didn’t talk to his dad, and also the year after finally losing Cama, were spent in dark corners of ships working on random projects that didn’t even fall under his duty. Calibrating was incredibly simple, took a lot of focus, and gave Garrus a bit of a high when he got it right. Set. Test. Measure. Assess. Over and over, until you reach optimal performance. You have a goal, and a thousand lines of data that need to be read, interpreted, and adjusted. If you stuck to the process, you’d wind up with a perfectly performing machine… or mind, because Garrus learned early in life that compartmentalization of thoughts and emotions was a lot like calibrating.

While Nihlus dug through a drawer in his bathroom sink to retrieve his overloaded wand, Garrus sat down on a stool next to the shower and assessed what had occurred earlier when Jane kneeled at his feet looking at him with her dark green eyes and blushing cheeks.

Having any thoughts at all was a slip, he admitted that, and it wasn’t the first slip of the day — there was the moment when her abs clenched beneath his hands outside the diner, and when she crossed the street and he thought of placing his tongue on the thickest curve of her ass, right in the middle of her plump cheek, and trailing it up and over to that sweet dimple near the base of her spine.

So all things considered, while up on that cross his thoughts could have been so much worse, and that was a small victory. He could have drowned in the sensations, savored every second and let his mind wander to images of her, and him, and hopes of an intimacy he had no right to. But he’d ignored the way her fingers slid over his bare ankles, and he’d ignored the way her palm landed on his keel, resting near his heart as he struggled to settle his stuttering pulse.

Thank the spirits he had ignored it all.

Altogether, then, only some minor adjustments were necessary. Just some careful calibrations.

Nihlus tossed the wand to Garrus, and Garrus caught it, shooting him a reprimanding brow.

“This is why your stuff is always broken. You need to be delicate with electronics. And glass. You and Jane—”

“How are you not a father yet?” Nihlus propped himself up on the counter, grabbing an exfoliating stone sitting next to him, turning it over and over in his palm.

Garrus found the outlet nearest him and plugged in the wand. “There are crucial acts that need to take place to be a father, and I’m not doing those.”

“Acts?”

“Well, just the one.”

Nihlus’s browplate rose and before he could ask how long it’d been since Garrus had sex, because he was definitely going there, Garrus shut him down with a look.

“How’s Jane doing?” Nihlus asked instead.

“Fine, why?”

“She’s tense. Rough day?”

“Yeah. She needs a break, though.” Garrus flipped the switch and turned the setting dial, tensing at the anticipation of the initial static skittering across his skin, but he got nothing from the little machine, no hum, not even a power light. He’d never enjoyed electric pulses on his skin, and downright hated the sensation on his carapace. Soft touches, tender touches, that’s what he’d always craved.

“I wish this case didn’t pop up right before her vacation,” Garrus said. “I’m worried it’ll be hard for her to resist working if we don’t wrap it up before she leaves.”

Nihus’s mandible gave a sympathetic flick. “We can have Kasumi lock her access.”

Garrus answered with a soft huff. Tempting, but she’d never forgive Garrus if he allowed that.

From the corner of his eye, Garrus saw a mild look of hurt gather in Nihlus’s expression. Before Garrus could inquire what he might have done, Nihlus said, “You never ask about me and Kasumi.”

“Because I have no idea what’s going on with you guys. Truthfully, I don’t understand it. You seem so close already, but you’re still not together?” Garrus flipped the switch to off, waited a beat, then switched it back on. Still no hum. Still no power light. “And how did we go from talking about Jane to Kasumi?”

“Yeah, we’re still waiting,” Nihlus said.

“Then what’s with all the touching?”

“It’s important to feel emotionally connected. Sex is off the table, but there are things we can do that aren’t sex. Like lying together, reading to each other.” Nihlus’s head fell back, and his eyes shuttered while a light ripple traveled through his subvocals. “Her lower back massages send me to the stars.”

“Doesn’t that make waiting harder? How are you not dying inside?”

“We set boundaries and make it work. It just takes communication.” Nihlus rolled his hand towards Garrus as if accusing him of something. “Are you dying inside?”

“From what?” A confused, agitated twinge stuck in the base of Garrus’s throat. He popped the panel off the wand and looked up at Nihlus.

With only a tilt of his head, Nihlus made it clear he was trying to turn this into a conversation about Garrus and Jane. No way were they going there, though.

“You wanted me to ask about Kasumi,” Garrus said carefully, calmly, impassively, “so talk about Kasumi.”

“Sure, sometimes I’m lonely. It’s hard not to be when the person I want is so close, but never close enough. But I appreciate what we have, and I look forward to the day when we’ll have more, when she’ll move in here, and I can share all my life with her.”

Checking the neatly packed wires, Garrus nodded, and hummed, even though he still didn’t understand.

There were no ifs or hopes cast through Nihlus’s words, only a certainty that stirred up envy and frustration in Garrus, then guilt, because instead of being happy for Nihlus, Garrus’s mind drifted to a life where he shared a space with Jane.

Nihlus didn’t understand what it was like to bottle up all those feelings. All he had to do was sit back and wait, knowing that someday Kasumi would be ready. That’s why Nihlus wasn’t aching: he already had a taste of his future, right there in his arms anytime he wanted it.

With wishful images of Jane resting in his arms, a deep, resonating jealousy rattled beneath Garrus’s keel before he set it aside. He took his focus off the wires to look up at Nihlus, and his heart sank seeing the ache in his friend’s eyes.

“Is it still her grief keeping things casual between you two?” he asked.

“No.” After a shaky toss of the stone, it landed in his tense hand. He didn’t toss it back up, just held it. “She’s worried that I’ve never been in a relationship with only one person.”

“She told you that?”

Nihlus nodded, thump thumping the stone back and forth between his hands again. All the wires inside the wand were in good shape and connected securely. Had to be the capacitor.

“Could you be with just one person? That’s what you both want?” Garrus asked.

“Yes.” The ache in his eyes dissipated, and the confident smile that usually sat on his face resurfaced. “In my mind, she’s already my mate.”

Nihlus was a man who knew himself, and his desires, entirely; so if he said he’d be happy with her and her alone, he was speaking the truth.

“So does she not believe you?” Garrus asked, holding the wand’s circuit board up to his omni-tool, checking for voltage.

“She wants to, but it’s taking time, so I just have to hope that she’ll trust me.” Like a carefully aimed shot, Nihlus’s tone deepened, his words slowed, and Garrus couldn’t help but feel like a target. “Big risks take faith, and love is a big risk, isn’t it?”

Only letting Nihlus’s words in long enough to know they made his heart ache, Garrus let them go, then he hummed in agreement.

“Why don’t you stop having sex with other people? To show that you can.”

“I’ve offered, several times, but she’s told me not to. And there’s no sense in torturing myself with celibacy if it won’t fix the issue.”

Noting the lack of voltage at any point on the board, Garrus shrugged. “Not having sex isn’t torture.”

Nihlus didn’t scoff — he didn’t need to with the disbelieving look on his face. “Did you learn how to lie? Are you sincerely telling me you’re unaffected by not having sex? Currently. Sitting here right now.”

Flashes of Jane’s bare skin from ankle to stomach to throat, and everywhere in between, the chronic ache behind his seam, the constant slamming of his heart, all raced through his mind in the blink of an eye.

“Not as much as you’d be,” Garrus said.

“You’re delusional if you think your need for contact, any contact, isn’t obvious.”

Garrus ignored that comment, tucking it away in the box titled topics not to discuss with Nihlus if you don’t want to get groped or turned into a therapy patient.

“Well,” Garrus said, “I’m sure this will come as no surprise, but I have no advice. If she cares about you, though — and she does — it’ll happen. Like you said, you just have to trust it. And her.”

“I know. It just feels good to talk about it,” Nihlus said. “And fixing my wand.” Then, like a Cipritine storm, deceptively swift and on top of you before you could seek shelter, Garrus felt Nihlus’s focus turn. “We didn’t get the chance to finish our conversation this morning.”

Concentrating on the wand and examining the wires he’d already checked, Garrus’s hands kept moving, his eyes kept blinking, his breaths kept rising and falling, but his heart compressed inside his cavernous chest.

When had Nihlus ever totally respected a boundary? His toe was always on the line until Garrus gave a hard shove to keep him back. Every denial, every ignored comment, every scoff and chitter of his subvocals, hadn’t been hard enough, though.

A slow rumble laced with too much intonation — one that still made Garrus’s gut clench after fifteen years of thick-as-blood friendship — came from Nihlus. “Wouldn’t a relationship with Jane be perfect?”

Garrus took a deep breath and kept inspecting the wand. Briefly, his exhausted spirit considered confessing. Talking about this served no purpose, though, the outcome would always be the same — him stuck with an unrequited crush — so he kept his mandibles tight.

“I know you’re attracted to her, you can’t hide that. I’ve known you since you were fifteen, fresh into boot camp, cocky, scrawny, and enthralled with every new experience.”

“And I’ve known you since you were eighteen, a chatty mentor who should have spent more time teaching me and less time worrying about who I liked.”

“You didn’t need as much help with your combat training.”

Not being fond of arguing when he was on the losing side, Garrus let the implication that he needed help in the other area go untouched.

“You two are so close.” Nihlus passed the stone back and forth between his hands, shuffling it lazily, the stone gently thumping against his palms. “What’s getting in the way?”

“She said we’re perfect as is, no attraction, nothing more than friendship.”

Because he was looking down, all Garrus sensed was a surprised ripple in Nihlus’s subvocals, but that was enough to prick Garrus’s nerves, and heart. Expectation laced his surprise, inevitability, even. That’s what hit Garrus so hard, not that Nihlus was simply curious, it was that he assumed that a relationship would just naturally develop.

The surprise might have been warranted if Jane had ever shown any interest, any hint that she’d consider him as more than a friend. But she hadn’t.

Garrus’s hand slipped on a wire, his talon clipping a plastic sheath and slicing it.

“And you?” Nihlus asked.

“I’m sick of the jokes.” With a sigh that sucked all the energy out of him, his shoulders fell. “That’s what I am.”

A nurturing warmth melted through Nihlus’s gaze. His eyes explored too many of the cracks stretching across Garrus’s exterior, and they drilled too deep. “G, come on, you look at her like she invented sunshine, and she—”

“Looks at me like I’m her best friend, and she needs a best friend, not a mate. That’s all, Nih. Trying to make it into something it’s not will ruin what we have, so please…” Garrus felt his throat tighten, felt the warble in his vocals. The thought of the soft couch and Jane, of laughter and relaxing, pulled at Garrus.

Nihlus stopped tossing the stone, setting it to the side, and nodded once. “Understood,” he said.

“We’re good like this. Happy. I’m happy and she’s happy.”

“Yeah, got it.” Nihlus said softly and with so much reassurance Garrus felt like a fragile fledgling. “I won’t bring it up again. But if you want to talk about it…”

“I won’t.”

Nihlus nodded again, and Garrus ignored Nihlus’s look of confusion and concern because it wasn’t anything to worry about. He already felt twelve times better than he had just days ago.

“The capacitor’s shot.” Garrus flipped the wand’s switch off, unplugged it, looping the cord in his hand. He stood and turned to the door. “I’ll order one that stands a better chance with you.”

Nihlus slid from the counter and wrapped an arm around Garrus’s shoulder, pulling him back against his chest. “Hey, you’re a damned fine friend.”

“I know.” Garrus clapped his hand against Nihlus’s arm, letting Nihlus give him a quick, squeezing hug. “I’m saving you a fortune by repairing your crap every time you break it.”

Nihlus chuckled. “True, I couldn’t afford that impressive view without you. You have many admirable qualities, though, you know that.”

Garrus pulled from Nihlus’s hold and gave an unconvinced hum.

Back in the living room, the sight of Jane and Kasumi curled into the couch, and the warmth in their genial voices, were a welcome comfort. Out here there were no questions that dug too deep, no statements full of pretense. Jane took a sip of her beer, and Kasumi laughed softly.

Jane turned to Garrus, her face brightening as soon as she saw him.

A moment after her gaze settled on him, though, her brows gathered. “Everything ok?” she asked. “Nihlus didn’t actually take you back there to dunk your head in the toilet or something?”

Nihlus laughed, loud and deep. “Only emotionally.”

Jane’s nose scrunched, that way it did when Nihlus said something asinine. There was no held-back grin, only mild irritation.

Garrus’s subvocals chittered. “Why don’t you think I’d dunk his head in the toilet?”

“Because you’re too sweet,” Jane said, all glassy eyed, her smile so wide it was like dawn on the horizon, and he blushed, dammit, but only a little, and the effervescent feeling dissipated quicker than it would have before.

Garrus settled into the couch next to Jane. She pulled a blanket from her lap up to her shoulders and snuggled her face into it, peeking over the edge at him. She did it for comfort, but she looked like Rocket when he was playing at hiding. “Did you fix his shock stick?” she asked.

“Not yet. I’m ordering a part. Should be here soon.”

“You’re so handy,” Jane said, a smile in her voice. “What would we do without you?”

Garrus tugged the blanket down beneath her chin, and she giggled, making him smile.

Kasumi got up from her spot beside them to sit down between Nihlus’s legs. She rested her chin on his knee and brushed the back of his legspur with her fingertips. His hands landed on her shoulders, guiding her hair aside, massaging in light, tender circles.

They were sweet, and perfect for each other.

The game started back up, Garrus’s attention focusing on the vidscreen, until Kasumi grabbed the front pieces of her hair, the parts at her forehead, and started twisting them around in intricate and confusing patterns. He’d seen humans walking around with their hair in beautiful, artistic twists and knots, but he didn’t know how they did it, so he couldn’t stop watching Kasumi’s hands weaving around her head.

Curled up within her blanket, Jane caught his attention with wonder in eyes, like she stumbled upon a puzzle she just had to crack. “What’s your thing with hair?”

Garrus shifted and focused back on the game. “It’s not a thing. I’ve just never seen anyone make…”

“Braids?” Kasumi asked.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anyone make braids. It looks complicated.”

“It’s not,” she said. “You just take sections and sort of weave them together.”

Jane scoffed. “It is hard. I’m sure you’d be an expert at it if you tried though, you’re good at everything you do.”

Garrus couldn’t summon any grounded words, but a proud, boyish smile flicked his mandible out wide.

He did, however, watch as Kasumi’s fingers danced around, one over the other, then the other, and after a few swift movements suddenly a braid sat snuggly against the curve of her head like embroidery on silk. An image of Jane’s fiery hair in woven braids across her head peeked into his mind. He could imagine his fingertips traveling atop them. Just to know the feeling, like when he first touched her hair and discovered how soft it was.

“See,” Kasumi said to him. “Pretty simple.” She tilted her head towards him. “Come over and try. I don’t mind.”

“Touching hair is too intimate.”

Black night , why did he say the first thing that popped into his head? Because his hands were constantly in Jane’s hair, he was fully aware of that, and he knew equally that the reason he touched it so often was because it made him feel closer to her. And her hair was so beautiful. And no matter how speedily his heart raced, running his fingers through her hair always steadied it.

And Nihlus, Kasumi, and Jane were all looking at him.

Thank the spirits the game was on, because the stadium’s roar picked up and everyone, including him, silently returned to watching the game.

Garrus’s embarrassing slip-up only shadowed the atmosphere for a moment because Jane’s boyfriend, Hequlim, got tangled up with another player, limped a step, then fell to his knees. Fifteen thousand fans shouted insults from the stands, demanding a nonexistent foul, and Nihlus cursed.

“He’s pretty,” Kasumi muttered while Nihlus dug into her shoulders, “but he needs to learn how to protect his spurs on a rush.”

“He was protecting the face,” Jane said with one eye open. “Watch the playback.”

The analysis vid played, quickly proving her right. A stick had risen to his face and he pivoted to avoid contact. Vain bastard.

“How’d you see that?” Garrus asked.

Nihlus chuckled. “Because she’s as concerned with his face as he is.”

Jane smirked, then closed her eyes and dozed off.

Jane woke back up when the capacitor arrived during the last period. Because Nihlus always chased after everyone gathering up plates and wiping away crumbs or spills from the coffee table, all Garrus had to do was push Jane’s mostly finished beer to the side so he could make a workspace. When he picked up the electrical tape, he grinned and looked over at Jane, who was grinning as well.

“Found you a snack,” he said, offering her the roll of tape.

“Fuck off,” she said, pressing sideways into the back cushion, and sinking away from his hand.

There was alway something about Jane backing away from him that incited roguish behavior. Maybe it was the dancing mischief in her eyes. Maybe it was the pulsating sense that she was challenging him, not actually fleeing. Whatever it was, instead of setting the tape down on the table, he inched it closer.

“Stop,” she said, trying very hard to sound serious. The half-hearted warning only encouraged him.

She pushed at his arm, tossing around and wiggling away from his hand, laughing like a kid. With a quick roll of his wrist he nearly got it to her mouth, but she was damned quick, blocking that attempt, and the next. With all the rolling around, her hair erupted into a wildfire.

Right when he got it within an inch of her mouth, she threatened, through chuckles, “I’ll bite you.”

That’s what got him to stop, but for an entirely different reason than she intended.

He set the tape on the table, ignored the sideways glances from Kasumi and Nihlus, and got to work.

While he cut wires that blocked the capacitor dock, Jane’s tired eyes stayed on him instead of the game. She was never a huge palae fan, he knew that, but he found it hard to believe that watching him replace an electrical component was more interesting.

He didn’t complain, though. All the distractions — the roar of the game, Nihlus and Kasumi’s grumbles and cheers — dulled and instead all Garrus heard was the clip of metal, the hiss of steam, and Jane’s soft breaths. Cuddled down into the heavy blanket, her steady-blinking eyes followed his every move.

Projects, fixing things, always gave him a sense of calm and purpose. It was a solitary experience, and while growing up he’d enjoyed the isolation. With Jane by his side, his work was still calm, but no longer lonely. And he enjoyed that even more.

Garrus connected the last wire, breaking open their tranquil bubble.

“There,” Garrus said, popping the panel back on. “Should be good to go.”

Practically vibrating with delight, Nihlus rose, letting Kasumi rest back against the chair, and took the wand to plug it in. He fired it up with a slide of his finger and grinned when a flickering light frizzled to life.

The bastard turned it up to the highest setting, and Jane’s eyes widened with alarm.

“You’re gonna wear it out before the end of the year,” Garrus muttered.

“G, you need to live a little. Take a risk. Turn your toys up to the highest setting.”

Nihlus reached out, brandishing the wand towards Garrus, but Garrus caught Nihlus’s forearm with a back-handed slap, diverting the damned thing before it made contact. Nihlus chuckled and touched it to his own palm.

“You don’t know how much I missed this,” Nihlus said.

Nihlus had a gift for zeroing in on a compelling target, so of course he spotted Jane looking up at him, the spark of the toy lighting her innocent eyes.

“Ever try one?” Nihlus asked.

“No,” she said, eyeing it suspiciously as it crackled and buzzed. “Does it hurt?”

With the cool composure of a kink educator, he turned it back down to the lowest setting, and held it out for Jane, giving her the chance to touch it on her own terms.

Hesitantly, with a tilted wrist and an arched finger, she touched her fingertip to the glass and a soft, surprised laugh trickled out of her.

“Hot.” A bloom of crimson heated her cheeks. “I mean, it feels hot. Kinda.”

Nihlus laughed, too mischievously for Garrus’s liking. “I don’t think the heat you’re feeling is the tool.”

“Don’t get him started, Jane,” Kasumi said, her voice bright with affection, because those two were made for each other. “He loves showing off his toys.”

While they played around, Garrus busied himself with neatly packing his tools up, hoping this all ended soon.

Nihlus hummed, dark and amused. “Should I get you one for your birthday?”

Just as Garrus was about to say something smart in reply, Kasumi glanced over with a smirk and said, “Expect something normal from me, like a book.”

Jane’s lips twisted up and eyes narrowed, actually putting thought into her answer, and, not sounding certain enough to put an end to Nihlus’s fun, said, “I don’t think so.”

With an upturned palm, Nihlus asked for Jane’s hand. “Here, try it on your wrist.”

No.

No no no. Getting himself stuck on a damned cross, and looking down at Jane’s bright eyes between his legs, was bad enough. The threat wasn’t the thought of electrical pulses prickling pain across Jane’s skin, because pain had never been his kink, but the sight of her tiny, smooth, tender little wrist bent and waiting for contact. That was a sight he needed to avoid.

How was he supposed to eliminate his raunchy thoughts if crap like this kept happening? No more hanging out at Nihlus’s until he got his emotions, and sex drive, under control.

Garrus should have gotten up and gone… anywhere else, but he watched Jane extend her hand. Watched Nihlus take it. Turn it over. Place the glass against her offered skin.

The machine crackled. Slowly, Nihlus lowered the glass head to her skin and she sucked in a tight breath. He turned it up a notch, and she giggled. He turned the dial again, and her giggle grew deeper, smokier. Her fingers unfurled, hand relaxed, and her wrist stretched, a perfect landing path for the flick of a tongue. Garrus swore he caught her chest rising. Maybe it was just his.

Garrus might as well have been tied up again, because he was incapable of moving or speaking. He simply watched as her chest rose and fell and her brows gathered, not in pain but curiosity.

Nihlus turned it up one more notch, the light snapping, the buzzing turning ominous.

The instant the glass touched her skin, Jane flinched, recoiling her hand to her chest. “ Ow fuck !” Then her head threw back with the deepest, most carefree laughter rippling out of her in radiant waves. “That really hurt.”

Garrus was going to kill Nihlus.

She laughed again, eyes punching shut. “Why do people like it?”

Even though Jane was laughing, Garrus’s heart slammed. He snatched the tool out of Nihlus’s hand, turned it off, and set it on the coffee table. “Alright, no more of that.” His glare only made Nihlus grin.

“Thank you, my hero,” Jane said, laughter still rippling in her voice, her eyes sparkling up at him. She held her wrist up for him to see. “Think I’ll make it?”

Her smile was so wide and honest that all his irritation at Nihlus dissipated.

Garrus balanced her elbow on his thigh, took her small hand in his, and pretended to examine her wrist, cradling it in his palm. “I think so.” Carefully, he brushed the back of his talon along her stung skin. “Might need to rest for a few days, though.”

Jane’s smile faded. She simply blinked up at him, looking at him with a curiosity more intense than she gave the wand. She had to be drunk, because her lips parted, but no words came out, and she looked damned near captivated by something. Her arm melted into his grasp. No, she didn’t look captivated; she looked damned near reverent. Of nothing at all.

“Are you okay?” Garrus asked her, stroking the back of her wrist gently to pull her mind back down to solid ground. Instinctively, he pulled her arm closer, holding onto it tighter.

Only a tiny, bright moan came out of her. Maybe she meant it to be a yes . Garrus had never been so confused in his damned life. And why did he notice at that moment how good she smelled. Warm and sweet.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, Nih,” he said, eyes locked on Jane’s as she simply blinked up at him in a daze.

“You are the slayer of fun, Garrus,” Nihlus said dryly, but amused.

“Sure, if your definition of fun involves burning my partner’s wrist.”

“It doesn’t burn, relax,” Nihlus said with a smirk that Garrus tried to ignore. “You’re too protective. Very caring , though.” He turned to Jane. “Are you okay?”

Still gazing starry-eyed up at Garrus, Jane nodded.

“Good. And now I’m definitely getting you one of these for your birthday.”

“Why? So I can use it on myself?” Jane said, finally speaking.

Nihlus looked from Jane to Garrus, and back to Jane, offering her an encouraging smile. “Nothing wrong with that, if you like it. But, someday, soon, you’ll have a friend that will use it on you. I’m certain.”

Jane’s chest rose, Garrus scowled, and the game ended with a buzzer.

Definitely time for the night to end.

“”You okay?” he asked Jane again.

She nodded, and laughed somewhat self-consciously. “Yeah, I think my brain just got a little fried.”

An angry chitter escaped him.

“Joking,” she said. “I’m just tired.”

As if on cue, Jane slid her wrist from Garrus’s hand — reminding him just then he was still holding it — to cover her yawning mouth. Taking her free hand, Garrus helped her up.

“Wait,” Kasumi said, tapping her omnitool. “One more picture before you go home.” Her little drone, which Garrus had completely forgotten, zipped out of nowhere and hovered in front of them. “Make it a good one.”

Jane rested her back against Garrus’s arm. Posing, they each turned their hands into guns, and he stuck his tongue out just before the drone clicked.

“You two are ridiculous,” Nihlus teased, and Jane, still brandishing a smirk from the photo, flipped him off. The bastard deserved it for causing her to short out like that.

Jane yawned again, and Garrus placed his hand on her back, nudging her to the door. They said their goodnights, put their boots on, and got in the elevator.

It was silent as the elevator went down, until Jane said, “Have you tried that kind of stuff?”

“Hm?”

“The…” she waved her hands, and her eyebrows wiggled.

“Oh, yeah, some.” A nervous chuckle trickled out of him. “Not as much as Nihlus, though.”

That’s all he could think to say, and hoped she wouldn’t ask any more questions. No way would he ask her the same question.

They used to talk about sex. Preferences, experiences. It wasn’t clear when that ended. Probably sometime between his first sexual thought about Jane, and the first time he realized his heart ached for her even more than his perverted mind did.

“Only the devil has more torture gear than Nihlus,” Jane said with a bit of humor and awe. “I suppose you are the devil, though, right?” She winked at him. “So if anyone would…”

Garrus chuckled again. “I didn’t look very devilish trapped on that cross.”

She shrugged. “You did when you were flashing those spiky gnashers at Udina.”

“Caught that, hm?”

“Pretty hard not to. You have a…” her eyes caught on his mouth, “striking smile, there.”

Staring at his mouth, her hand cupped the base of her throat, until her eyes shot down to her feet. It made him so damned self-conscious that he regretted the risky but incredibly satisfying display he gave Udina. Not because he feared retaliation at work, but the thought of Jane feeling even a hint of unease because of his inherently threatening anatomy made him cold.

“Does my smile bother you?”

“ No ,” she said, then met his eye and bit at her lip. “You know it doesn’t.”

He took her word, but as the floors ticked by, his thoughts lingered.

Garrus always trusted that Jane didn’t hide anything from him, that she revealed her inner thoughts honestly, but sometimes there seemed to be more to her words, something horizontal, not vertical.

He always felt so in sync with Jane, but brief moments of opacity snuck up on them sometimes. Nihlus’s speech about open communication and trust gave Garrus a little prick of doubt because he didn’t tell her everything, did he? Not about his true feelings for her, and he rarely talked about his mom’s condition. Maybe she held things back from him too.

He washed the paranoia away. Hell, maybe Nihlus and Kasumi talked more openly, but were they any better off for it?

They were fools, the four of them, skirting around happiness, trying to make the best out of situations no one would choose. It all felt so odd when Garrus objectively examined their lives.

“Do…”

Jane waited for him, then nudged his elbow with hers, encouraging him to speak.

“Do you think it’s weird that we hang out with Nihlus and Kasumi all the time? You and I have sworn off dating, and I’m not sure they’ll actually get together at this rate.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Just that the four of us spend all our time together, and we may never be in relationships again.”

“That’s incredibly sad.”

He shrugged. He hadn’t thought of it as sad, necessarily. Odd, sure, but he was happy. Enough.

“I guess if we’re going to hang out with people,” Jane said, “they might as well be lonely people like us.”

That word coiled around his chest and tugged, hard . Lonely. Did she sense how lonely he’d been these past few months? Was she?

“Are you lonely?”

She shook her head, a sliver too quickly. “I meant single.”

She paused, leaned back against the elevator wall, inching down just slightly so that her black shirt and red hair ruched against the bright metal. “Maybe I am.”

The emotion held in her sparkling eyes reminded him of the way she’d looked up at him as they stood at Nihlus’s door, waiting together: vulnerable, contemplative, and in need of something . Then she said, “I mean, yeah, I am. A little.”

Her words came out quietly, but loud and clear, and clarified that little inkling he had that she wasn’t telling him the whole truth. They both needed relaxation, fun. Normal time together, just the two of them, and that was something he could fix, easily.

“I miss vid nights,” he said, and with a quirked browplate and soft smile, he asked if she did too.

She took an easy breath and smiled up at him. “Wanna come over tomorrow night? You can pick the vid.”

“I’ve been wanting to watch Beneath Moonlight lately.”

A tired, amused hum came out of her. “Funny,” she said. “I’ve been thinking of that vid too.”

Despite all the words Nihlus and Kasumi shared, all the communication he espoused, they weren’t in a perfect place. But things came so easily for him and Jane. The fact was, they simply didn’t need words like other people.

They were a perfect fit. Every facet of their lives coupled together, parts made for one placement, one function. Their love of vampire vids, the way they relied on each other at work, the way she brightened his days and the way he made her laugh. All those components kept them going, day in and day out.

Maybe that’s what she meant when she said they were fated to find each other.

That night, need had crept in with errant thoughts — to hold her close, to touch her skin, to feel her pulse on his tongue — but soon those would be gone too, along with the ache in his heart. And then loneliness, his and hers, wouldn’t be a problem anymore. They’d stay together, all the pieces of their friendship fit so tight that nothing could shake them loose.

They would just need to avoid Nihlus’s apartment for maybe a month.

He’d had twelve salacious thoughts that day, and his heart ached less. Both improvements.

No, it’d been thirteen thoughts. And he’d been awake thirteen hours. One damned thought an hour.

Better avoid Nihlus’s for two months, just to be safe.

## Hide

Chapter Summary

> Sometimes fears are too big, even for the brave.

Chapter Notes

> Big thanks to DiaphanousO for her help and support. She’s the best writing buddy I could ask for, and if you enjoy my fics you’ll love hers. I highly recommend you check them out so you can swoon over them like I do 😁

> Song I had on loop: Fear and Loathing, Marina

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Bright morning light, coffee machines hissing as they dribbled streams of caffeine, and the scent of Jane’s shampoo lured Garrus’s stubbornly slumberous brain cells into reluctant action. Jane yawned, wide-mouthed and loud, eyelashes batting. Garrus yawned along with her, rolled his neck to loosen his muscles, and through the shop’s glass walls watched the lake’s surface glitter and gleam.

What was it in Jane’s shampoo that made her hair smell so good? Some of it was her natural scent, the note of warmth, but there was a layer of sweet, and a deeper layer of spice, that made him want to nuzzle right into her hair and breathe her in. Maybe rest his chin atop her head and just…sigh into relaxation. She was nearly the perfect height for that, too. He’d only have to slump down just a little.

“What are you thinking about?” Jane asked.

Nothing he should be. He straightened a bit, and hoped the smile parting his mandibles didn’t look suspicious. “Um, nothing. Why?”

“You had a funny look on your face.”

“That’s a strange way of telling me I’m extremely handsome and you can’t take your eyes off me.”

She rolled her eyes, turned her gaze to somewhere outside the shop, and smiled. “You looked high.”

“I’m tired. My friend kept me up late last night.”

“You didn’t have to ride with me before you went home.”

“It was on the way,” he said.

It wasn’t.

Slow rides home had been an artful extension of their time together. There was something comfortably discordant about the skycar interior as they sailed through Citadel traffic. Comforting solitude among masses. Quiet amongst aural maelstrom. The cabin’s swathing dark amongst flooding and flashing lights.

It was sheltering.

At first, years ago, driving slowly was a way to sneak in a few more laughs before they parted, but at some point, their trips became a way to put off their inevitable goodbye. Even when he started getting out at her place, and frequently passing out in her spare bedroom either exhausted or drunk, the slow rides stuck.

Despite losing their utility, the habit never died because, for him, grasping onto time together expanded into an illusory notch of normal life.

He'd been replicating an intimacy that wasn't his: car rides home after a long day of work, dinner, relaxation in comfortable clothes, togetherness; as if they belonged to each other and that moment in time belonged to them.

Jane’s raised hand waved in front of his face, all of her many fingers wiggling to get his attention. His vision cleared and focused on her after a blink.

“Jane to Garrus,” she teased with her lips quirked into a sly grin.

He shifted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hm?”

“I said I can’t wait to meet Sol’s girlfriend at the banquet. What do you know about her?”

A frazzled but cheery barista set Jane’s coffee down on the counter and Jane leaned to pick it up, brushing up against Garrus. He held his breath before her warm and comforting scent could sidle up into his nose.

“Not much. Only what Mom and Dad have told me, which is that she’s delightful, so I think Dad’ll be pushing for a quick bonding ceremony. He says she's the best mate either of us has brought home, though I’m sure none of my exes were even in the running.”

Jane agreed with a hum.

When he still dated, she’d never shared her opinions of his mates so he always assumed she didn't have any. “You agree with him?”

“Of course, but I’m biased,” she said, poking at a scuff mark on the toe of her boot with the heel of the other.

“Biased?”

“You’re too handsome for any of them. You can do better.”

“Unfortunately love isn’t just about looks. Might be easier if it was.”

“Sure it is,” she said. Jane shifted, shrugged, and ruffled her hair while watching a Sur’Keshian millicahn through the window sputter by then land on a shrub just outside, its luminescent wings shifting from green, to fuchsia, then to blue before it vanished. Instead of looking at him, Jane’s gaze drifted to a kid jumping on top of a nearby bench. Her eyes were, frustratingly, everywhere but on his.

“Attraction is the foundation, anyhow, right?” she added, puffing a wisp of hair from her eyes. “Even if you like someone platonically, love requires attraction, doesn’t it?”

Suddenly agitated for no good reason, and unsure whether that was a statement or a question directed at him, he chose that good old standby: humor. “Well spirits, then I hope I never get shot in the face.”

With startling quickness and dark, sparkling intensity, her eyes jumped to his. Her hand reached up to his face and her small, curled finger extended, quickly brushing along the curve of his mandible, back to tip.

“You’d be just as handsome,” she said with a disarmingly affectionate grin.

Statue-still, mouth dry, adrenaline bursting through his body, he stared at her. As quick as that little action happened, her grin disappeared and she pulled away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Just like that, he had all her attention, too closely, then it was gone again. Between his racing thoughts, and her quickly changing demeanor, there wasn’t even enough time to process and enjoy whatever had happened. That soft, tender touch was so shocking it might as well have been a slap to the face.

Not that he should’ve enjoyed it.

The thing was, Jane had never touched his face before. She rarely touched him anywhere, actually; it was always him grabbing and grasping for her attention, and thank the spirits she never did. Managing his feelings would be impossible if she touched him like that often.

A quick, uncomfortable laugh was all he could muster and all he could think to do was run his hand along his fringe, just to satisfy his desperate need for sensation, any sensation, on his body, and damn her for watching his nervous tick. Her eyes stuck to his hand as it traveled its full path, from crest to tip. It seemed like a thought brewed in her mind, but she didn’t say a word.

“I’m sure Mom was always surprised when I found someone willing to stick around long enough to meet my family.”

The frazzled barista returned with his order — a coffee for him and one for Nihlus — and they shimmied out of the shop, past the half-asleep embassy and C-Sec staffers. Armed with nothing more than sheer attitude, Jane’s 5’8” frame parted the sea of people, and he followed.

Jane sighed while she glanced up at him over her shoulder. “That’s not true, your mom loves you. She doesn’t know why you’re still single.”

“Oh she knows.”

“Every time I see Val she says something like — ‘Jane, my son is too sweet to still be single’ and ‘Jane, don’t you think Garrus is too handsome to be alone?’”

His mom always said stuff like that. She told him Jane was too beautiful to be alone, too, as if he didn’t already know that. “Well she tells me all the time to stop being an emotionally distant smart-ass.”

Jane raised an eyebrow before looking away. They pushed through a swarm of Embassy staffers and headed for the stairs leading in the direction of Headquarters.

“You agree with my parents too often,” Garrus said, taking one slow step for every two of her bounces. He’d overtake her if he didn’t.

“Listen, you’re a smartass, but seeing as how we’ve never dated, I can neither deny nor confirm that you’re emotionally distant. You’re not with me .”

Of course he was, she had no idea how purposefully distant he’d been. Skirting that line of conversation, he said, “I’m surprised Mom and Dad weren’t upset with me when I broke up with Livia.”

She gave him a devious little smile. “Oh, I don’t think they were too upset.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll just say your dad once muttered, ‘If she throws out another vapid joke I’m going to throw myself into Presidium Lake’.”

He chuckled, then stopped. “Wait. When did he say that?”

“Dinner one night, before the two of you got to the restaurant.”

After a thick scoff, his mandibles jittered. “Did you usually gossip about my mates with my parents?” The image of Jane sitting at a table with his parents, happy, joking, while he’d been dodging Livia’s snipes, sent a pang of loneliness through him.

“You two were late, so fair game, really. And I only make fun of them when your dad brings it up. Your mom doesn’t participate, other than giving us slaps on the forearm.”

“Good, her arm slaps hurt. You can talk about things other than me, you know.”

“We do,” she threw him an overly charming grin, “but you’re our favorite subject.”

“Sure,” he drawled.

“Relax, they just want you to be happy. Your dad talks about you finding a good mate more than your mom does. You haven’t told them you’re never dating again, have you?”

“Many times. They dismiss it and chitter at me.”

“Mm, well either they’ll get used to it or you’ll date again.” With a sly reach she pinched his waist. “And I can’t help that your parents love me.”

It was true. They did love her, although she didn’t know exactly how much. They even made the familial subvocal when they spent time with her. He still hadn’t figured out how to tell her. Telling her shouldn't be so awkward, but he first noticed his family's subvocals when his own feelings shifted from uncomfortable thoughts to a complete and heart-crushing inundation of desires and feelings. He’d decided that telling her would feel like a confession, would feel like bringing up too much that he was trying to ignore.

He’d tell her, of course. Once he got over his feelings. Definitely by next Anivia Vocan.

The closer they got, the more it looked like Jane had an itch between her shoulder blades. Maybe his hunch was simple projection, though. Maybe he was the one with the itch.

One step into Homicide, clacking console keys and susurrous chatter greeted them. Garrus listed off the tasks he was eager to get to: set the timeline between Adam leaving his house and the initial report that his body had been spotted, then figure out the skycar make and model. That would probably take him until the end of the day.

“Pallin’s favorites decided to show up today,” Nihlus roared from their dim corner of the room as he and Jane navigated a path down rows of desks, weaving around other detectives who were also settling in for the morning.

“I guess I can just drink this coffee myself, instead of giving it to you like I intended,” Garrus said, once they got close enough that shouting over thirty hard-working people wasn’t necessary.

Nihlus leaned forward and grabbed at the coffee. “Hold on, give me that.”

Garrus drew his hand back, until Nihlus used his charming eyes and grin to get his way despite his behavior. Garrus gave him a friendly glare, just to make his point clear, before he let the coffee go.

Nihlus took a sip then jutted his chin to his new partner, sitting across from Nihlus in T’Saris’s old desk. “Garrus, Jane, this is Officer James Vega.”

Garrus nodded and Jane waved. While sticking his hand in a box full of nick-nacks to pull out a photo of what looked like a large family, James nodded back, quick, friendly, and eager-like. He held the frame tightly in his meaty hand. Probably missed them as much as Jane missed her family.

“Two questions,” Garrus said. “What the hell did you do to get paired up with this idiot? And how much do you regret it?”

That earned him a laugh and a lazy slap across his ribs from Nihlus.

James leaned forward with animated eyes, setting the photo down next to his console screen. “Man, I’m just excited to finally be here. So, my last case over in Narcotics was pretty big, bunch of rich kids – humans – dealing. But I tracked it all the way up to an asari matriarch. Earned me a promotion. So I requested a transfer to Homicide.” With an energetic bob of his head, he added, “It’s kinda been my dream.”

The large grin on his face said it was more than “kinda” his dream.

“Well welcome aboard,” Garrus said. When he looked over at Jane, expecting her to say something welcoming as well, she just sat down and got to work.

Garrus and Nihlus both noticed Jane’s uncharacteristically cold behavior, but James didn’t seem to. He took a heavy breath. “To be honest it’s kind of intimidating being partnered with a turian. None of the human-turian partners in Narcotics are together anymore.”

“They’re the only ones left in homicide,” Nihlus said, propping his feet up on his desk.

Pointing between Jane and Garrus, James said, “You guys are really well-known around C-Sec, you know. Everyone talks about how perfect you guys are together. Amazing conviction ratio. Solid methods. Got any advice for us?”

Garrus' attention wandered to Jane instead of listening to Nihlus and James as they talked, watching as she sat down and logged in. They kept their consoles tilted so they could see each others’ screens — kept them from having to get up and sit at each other’s desks constantly. Her eyes bounced between multiple shots of Adam’s pale and battered body, and he couldn’t help but notice her smile was a distant memory. She was ashen once again, just like she’d been at the autopsy yesterday morning.

Nihlus nudged Garrus’s leg with his boot. “Garrus is as helpful as a spent heatsink. Maybe Jane can, though.”

“Just let Nihlus do the reports,” she murmured.

“Easy enough,” James said.

Nihlus’s mandibles drew tight. “I’m going to teach you how to do reports like a turian, and you’ll do them yourself.”

If James were a smart guy, he’d have been developing some doubts right about then. Unfortunately, he was throwing positive and oblivious energy. One had to be on their talons around Nihlus, and James would have to learn that quickly. Hopefully he’d still have a smile on his face at the end of the day.

To lighten the mood, Garrus gave him a reassuring smile. “So, in about a week you’re going to need a new partner, because humans can’t do reports like turians. Better make nice with an asari detective because they’re more forgiving when it comes to documentation.”

“He looks like a smart guy.” Nihlus slowly sipped his coffee in the most threatening manner possible. “And capable. I've adapted to the stiflingly strict Hierarchy methods, he can too.”

That got a relieved chuckle out of James. It shouldn't have, though, because Nihlus looked like he was going to abandon him in a desert to die a slow death, which was something he’d actually done to a band of traffickers once. The look on his face was exactly the same.

Garrus shot Nihlus a reprimanding look, which he ignored.

Jane was slipping into a bad state and Nihlus was being a dick. Not a great welcome into the department.

Leaning towards the screen, a soft orange hue lit Jane’s face. She gave Nihlus no response, only tilting her head to the side, examining an image with twisted brows.

“Got something?” Garrus asked her.

She shook her head, shuffling images around her screen and leaning in closer.

Worrying about Jane wasn’t going to prevent her fog, so he gave her space and pulled out his notes. Establishing a succinct timeline always put Garrus in a productive rhythm. Witness reports, sightings, time stamps. It was all just data. Plugging it in to make a complete line was simple, and relaxing.

Deep into the morning, Pallin appeared out of nowhere.

“Welcome to Homicide, James.” Pallin extended his arm, waiting for James to tap wrists. Maybe someday he’d learn that shaking hands wasn’t akin to a 314 defeat.

Jane noticed Pallin at that point and sat up a bit straighter as well. It wasn’t straight enough for a turian’s approval, but she made her attempt. The real issue was the look on her face though, dazed and distracted when she should have looked sharp and focused.

Garrus wanted to get out of his chair, walk over to her, and give her a hug.

Garrus anxiously watched Pallin and Jane interact. He wasn’t even listening to what they were saying. Pallin asked a few questions and Jane mumbled some responses in between glancing at the photos. Nihlus exchanged a wary glance with Garrus. If Jane was turian and this was the Hierarchy, her ass would be nailed to a wall for the lack of respect.

After Pallin left, Jane looked up at Garrus, her chin tucked and shoulders low. Shame was such an odd sight on her that his own shoulders sank. She mouthed ‘sorry’ to him and he tried to tell her it was okay with a soft smile that didn’t seem to comfort her much.

🔪🔪🔪

Jane spent all morning, and half the afternoon, pouring over all their evidence related to Adam’s body: scene photos, autopsy photos, the narrative of his injuries and Mordin’s findings. In the middle of her work, progress slowed as she imagined a fist slamming into Adam's back. Adam's kind eyes freezing still at the moment he let go and took his last breath. Deep-down she knew she should have taken a break to empty her mind of the distractions, but she convinced herself pouring over every detail would lead to something. An itch had burrowed its way into her skin as soon as they’d left the coffee shop, and every minute of sitting at her desk only intensified her need to scratch.

“That the Udina kid?” James asked while her eyes roamed an image of Adam’s hands. There were no defensive wounds. He never even fought back.

She nodded to James, but didn’t say anything.

Was Adam too scared to fight back? Too soft-hearted? Incapacitated? The absence of ligatures indicated he hadn’t been tied up, but biotics could have been used to keep him still.

Throughout the morning, background noise tore at her nerves — clamoring voices, omni-tools and consoles pinging, small talk about nothing important, jokes and laughing. Usually she found the people and activity energizing, a welcome distraction from the grueling monotony of investigating a case. But today it was overwhelming.

James’s finger tapping and leg bouncing only added to the depleting cacophony. But he was clearly bored and aching to chat with someone, and with Garrus and Nihlus busy discussing skycar thruster patterns left in the grass near Adam, James had no other outlet.

“How’s the case going?” he asked, swiveling his chair. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Trying to ignore the whirling chair and tapping fingers, she shrugged. “Nothing is jumping out yet. We have a few pieces of evidence, a possible vehicle description.” She tilted her head towards Garrus and Nihlus, hoping James would jump in on the skycar talk.

James scooted his chair closer to Jane’s console to get a better look at the images. “Cute kid. Some of the human teenagers I worked with…” He whistled and shook his head. “Sociopaths in the making, man. I’ve got some stories. Sucks to see bad things happen to innocent kids.”

Hopefully her silence was a clear indication he didn’t need to start sharing those stories. Not then. She wasn’t in the mood.

Jane didn’t usually have a large personal bubble, but she couldn’t help but lean away from James. Garrus saw it, too – he gave her an amused but sympathetic look. They shared a soft smile before she looked back at her console.

Near the end of the day, Jane raised her arms high above her head and pushed out her chest, stretching her tight muscles and bringing life back to her limbs. Pulling herself from her chair, she mumbled to Garrus, “I’ve gotta take a break. I need to feel some light on my skin.”

As she locked her console and pushed her chair in, Garrus’s eyes followed her. “Want me to come along?”

“No, I’ll be right back.”

Despite the impulse to always have Garrus at her side, she figured a break from her sighing and moodiness would probably do him good – he was starting to look a bit morose himself. So she headed for the door without him.

🔪🔪🔪

As if timed for the worst possible outcome, Pallin walked out of his office, his shoulders set and arms crossed as he surveyed his staff. Some stiffened up, sensing his attention, while others were too busy to notice. All got approving looks. The approval fell away when his gaze landed on Jane’s empty desk. Cold ran up Garrus’s spine as their eyes inadvertently locked.

“What’s up?” Nihlus said, and out of the corner of his eye, Garrus saw Nihlus follow his stiff gaze.

Garrus tore his eyes off Pallin, setting them on Nihlus. “Pallin’s on Jane’s case. And for some damned reason, for the past few weeks, every time he looks out here she’s not at her desk.”

“Doesn’t look good.”

“She just needs a break.”

“You both do. The two of you lock yourselves up in her apartment, or yours, working later than you should and getting drunk. Makes me think the two of you need to lighten up on the alcohol, and spend that time working on your well-being.”

“We all drink too much, because we stare at innocent dead people all damned day.”

“Alcohol should be good and it should be savored. I just meditate after a difficult day.”

“Tell me,” Garrus said, irritation burrowing beneath his skin, “did meditating help you peacefully process that water-logged body yesterday?”

Nihlus shrugged. “It did, actually.”

That irritation pushed to the surface.

“Maybe the reason you tie people up and shock the shit out of them has more to do with your day job than you think.” Garrus felt the snap in his tone, and hoped it hadn’t been as pronounced as he worried it was.

Like a tree bending easily in a gust of wind, Nihlus remained unphased. “Don’t kink shame me because you’re going through a hard time.”

Though Nihlus didn’t look hurt, Garrus still felt guilty.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Nihlus said, peering past Garrus with a Jane’s coming look.

🔪🔪🔪

Jane skidded into her chair, ignoring the weird energy coming from Nihlus and Garrus, and the way they were both watching her in the same way cats watch running water — all fascination and worry. She brought up the autopsy reports again, devouring stilted lines typed by Mordin.

No defensive wounds on Adam’s body meant he wouldn't have been giving the killer trouble, so why did Jane sense restraint in the killer’s violence? Was it hesitation? Were they inexperienced? Were they taking it slow because they were exceptionally sadistic? Was this a game of bullying gone too far?

Garrus’s voice felt like a thump to her heart. “I thought you were taking a break to get some fresh air?” His nose twitched, plated hide contracting, relaxing, probably smelling the morgue on her, so there was no sense in skirting the truth.

“I wanted to ask Mordin something, but he wasn’t there. I forgot to go outside, I guess.”

And there was the manner in which the body was discarded. He wasn’t dumped carelessly. His clothes were perfectly tucked in. They could have pushed him out of the skycar, let his body slap to the ground, not cared if his face sunk into the mud. He hadn’t worn his hair neat in any photos they had of him, but at the dumpsite his body rested on a bed of mud and slick grass, C-Sec lights bursting over his pale skin, his hair cut precisely across his forehead. As if brushed with care. Why, in death, did Adam’s appearance matter? Care. Why.

Nihlus looked over at her, his browplates pinched in genuine concern. “Take a break.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe her brain was fried, maybe it was chasing ghosts.

A fried brain was the only explanation for reaching out and brushing Garrus’s mandible that morning. It had been impulsive, accidentally tender, and, thank god, hadn’t phased Garrus at all.

Jane ignored the scrutiny on Nihlus and Garrus’s faces and took a snack out from her desk, munching on it obnoxiously because she knew the smacking sounds and the drastic jaw movements irritated turian eyes and ears. If they wanted to watch her so badly, she’d make them suffer for it. “What do you have on the car?” she asked through a mouthful of food.

Garrus asked her to knock off the antics with a sharp look, but said, “Thruster patterns in the grass clearly indicate the car used to drop him was a K-31, matching witness reports. No one in Eden Glen owns that model, though. They’re flashy. Sports models. Most of the residents are older. Family types. Must be someone outside the neighborhood, or a rental.”

While she’d been chasing ghosts, Garrus had pinned down their first solid lead.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nihlus tense, then snap his head to glare at her. “Spirits Jane, if you don’t stop chewing on that bar like a crazed varren, I’m going to kill you.”

“Meditate,” Jane suggested with a toothy grin, and Nihlus gave her the finger.

Garrus, ever the focused soldier trudging ahead, talked over them. “So we need to get a list together of every registered K-31 on the Citadel and we need to start looking into anyone who rented one around the day of the murder.”

“Regitus was first on the scene,” Jane said. “She should be free to help with the vehicle work, right?”

“I can work on it,” he said quickly, probably annoyed about the candy bar thing, which made her feel bad for acting like an asshole.

“Don’t be stubborn, that’s a lot of work.”

“I can help, if you want.” James offered. “I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Aren’t you helping Nihlus with his Presidium Lake case?” Jane asked, eyeing Nihlus and realizing that he hadn’t been interacting with James much, if at all.

“I’m just wrapping up a few things on my own,” Nihlus said stubbornly. “Feel free to utilize him.”

“Thanks, James,” Garrus said with an appreciative nod. “I’ll send over the information now.”

As James answered, “No worries, man. Glad to get some work done,” Jane shot Nihlus a dead stare, which he ignored. She and Garrus had enough going on and had no time to play matchmaker with Nihlus and his new partner. At least James could help Garrus, though.

Behind her, close, but not near enough that she couldn't escape, came Pallin’s sharp voice.

The thought of Pallin coming out and asking questions about the case again, and seeing her just as unorganized and unfocused, sent her nerves jolting to attention. Without a plan and thinking only of escape, she leapt out of her chair.

Garrus’s head snapped to look at her, his mandibles spread wide in surprise. “Where are you going?” he asked, face dripping in frustration, and, god, she even felt frustrated with herself, but she couldn’t face any inquiries at that moment.

“I don’t wanna deal with Pallin right now,” she said, not looking back. Garrus didn’t have the chance to argue because she was already two turian-sized strides away from her desk and charging like a krogan for the door.

Before she acknowledged where she was, she exited the elevator at the lowest level of the building, and headed into the morgue. Mordin had to be back from his break by now, and she desperately needed to talk to him about the injuries. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it wouldn't solve the case, but her mind wouldn’t let go of the hunch that a story was written all over Adam’s body, each bruise a line of narration. She’d hunt down the ghost, and either prove it was real. Or, prove that she needed a break even more than she wanted to admit.

She was happy to find him standing in the middle of his domain, perched at his console and quietly humming some upbeat tune to himself as he typed away with busy fingers. She sighed in relief when she saw the exam tables were empty, save Mordin’s lunch of spicy noodles.

“Hey, Mordin.”

His head rose, and when he saw her a soft, wide smile spread across his face. “Jane, good to see you. No Garrus?”

“He’s working on something upstairs.”

“Odd, you two are like song from human musical about adorable rodent immigrating to America. Persevering despite hate from felines — you are A Duo .”

Jane didn’t even have enough time to scratch her head at that reference before he kept on talking.

“Can I help with something,” his soft grin turned impish, “or did you make this visit just to hear me sing?”

She laughed, mostly because it was socially appropriate, not because she felt any levity at that moment. “The singing is just an added benefit. But I came to talk about the autopsy results on Adam Udina again.”

“Ah,” he turned back to his console and began to type a command, “let me get body out. Can go over details again.”

Panic surging, her hand shot up asking him to stop. “Oh no need. Please. I just wanted to ask questions.”

His black-pool eyes blinked. “Everything okay, Jane?” He raised his omni-tool up and waved it in her direction. “Vitals spiking. Signs of mild panic.”

“I...” she felt herself wringing her hands, pulling clammy skin too tight, squeezing down on tender tendons and bone. Mordin was clinical, of course, but he also possessed a sincere heart, a deep-seated desire to help. And because of that, her words came easily. “Honestly, I don’t think I‘ll be able to sleep tonight if I see his body.”

“Unusual reaction, Jane. We examine bodies together frequently. Your dedication sets you apart. Can’t solve cases without knowledge.”

Jane’s eyes roamed the room, taking in all of the autopsy tables and equipment. She looked over to the thick, large door into the cooler. It was probably full, like always. She’d once dreamt of Mordin sitting in a rowboat on a murky river, black cloak loose on his shoulders and hood skimming his large eyes. Mordin, dressed as Death, telling her “someone has to do it, might as well be me ”.

“How do you look at so many bodies, Mordin, without it ever getting to you?”

Mordin turned away from his console to give her his full attention and crossed his arms. He was concerned, but that was better than breaking down in front of Garrus, and worrying him.

Mordin watched her for a moment, tapping his fingers against his arm. “Not your first body, Jane. Not even your first child victim. Why so upset now? Perhaps, this is result of your run-in with krogan that attacked Garrus? Residual guilt over taking a life?”

Only sometimes she thought of the krogan she killed to save Garrus's life.

She'd remember the rage rattling through the krogan like a nuke trapped under a lid. Her bare hands wrapped around the rough handle of a twelve-inch blade. And when she used every muscle in her body bearing down on the knife it wasn't the crack of the krogan's skull that had made her stomach turn, but the image stuck in her head of Garrus's quaking arms and shaking legs.

Garrus had been so close to breaking, slipping. A second away from…

The krogan was just one face, one set of eyes, amongst too many others, and she only had the emotional stores to mourn people who didn’t try to crush her best friend to death in front of her eyes.

That’s what no one would understand, even if she told them. She didn’t cradle a guilty heart for the krogan. But she did mourn the innocence spilling out of Ziha along with her guts after two psychotic turians tried to kill her. She mourned her own innocence, never having seen someone two breaths from death. And she mourned the piece of her that trusted Garrus would always be safe, and always by her side.

Four perfunctory sessions with a C-Sec therapist probably hadn’t been enough to process that.

Jane braced her arms against the autopsy table, letting go of her body weight, wishing she could just as easily let go of the emotions weighing her down.

“The Udina kid keeps popping into my head,” she said. “And I know I have work to do, and I need to focus on the evidence we have, but all I can think about is his battered little body. I need to look at the images to figure out what my brain is thinking, but…I’m not sure I have it in me to keep looking at them.”

“You have heart, Jane, but you also must practice distance from grim aspects of this job. That is just body, a vessel, not the person who occupied it. Mistaking two concepts will only lead to burnout, emotional turmoil, career could be compromised.”

She couldn’t look up at Mordin, because deep down she knew that. God, she knew that. But that didn’t prevent the grim thoughts and dead eyes from creeping into her thoughts.

Mordin watched her, his face looking concerned but also contemplative. “Curious, Jane. He tapped his finger against his chin as he thought. “Have you experienced loss? Grief? Personally, that is.”

“My parents,” she answered honestly, but dreaded traversing that path. Too many thorns. Too many dark corners.

“Did you see bodies after they expired?”

“It was a car crash, they were too badly burned.”

“Ah, maybe that is reason. No closure. Now, when you see bodies, too hard to process. Because you did not have opportunity to process personal loss. Death linked to loss of family, loss of security, loss of your place in galaxy. Maybe to feel grounded at work, need to feel secure at home. Need balance in life, need purpose outside of work. Self-fulfillment can’t just be about work, you know.” Mordin withdrew his finger from his chin and re-crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Just something to think about, though.”

“I’m not missing anything though. I have friends here. Garrus’s family and my family both give me all the support I could ask for. Garrus is… the greatest friend I’ve ever had.”

Mordin only blinked, his silence was louder than any words he could have said.

“I’m happy,” Jane said. The words echoed in her mind, as if she’d shouted them into a desolate, dark cavern, reverberating throughout her heart like a lonesome little voice.

Alone.

Like a mouse, her little voice echoes in her new room, in her new home, her grandparents’ home.

She’s on the edge of her old bed looking at her old toys, the emptiness swallows her up. She cries and cries, until Gran and Papa hear her soft sniffles. Papa turns on the bedside lamp, a kitten holding a rainbow of balloons, and they come to sit with her. She feels their love, but it doesn’t fill the hollow hurt in her heart.

Why did that loneliness creep into her mind then? Despite having friends and family that she knew loved her, the ache in her chest was just as sharp as when she’d sat at the end of her bed.

An absence, something missing.

“I’m fine.” The word fine bit into Jane’s throat as it left her. Liar, it said.

She took a rib-bursting breath, but it caught deep within her chest and wouldn’t budge — just stuck — and, as she thought just briefly of her parents’ faces and the images of the car on fire that the assholes put on the evening news, it threatened to tear out of her in a frantic heave. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. One, then another, before she could muster up the effort to wipe at them.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, begging those thoughts to leave her atop the exhalation.

Mordin only watched her, and maybe that was a good thing. If this had happened in front of Garrus, he would have fallen apart too, trying to take care of her, trying to wipe away all her sadness.

“Volunteer at clinic in lower wards, people there need me. Limited resources, often hostile environment, all very enjoyable challenges. Gives me sense of purpose outside of work here at C-Sec, that I am not simply managing the dead, but helping the living.” He took a quick breath, air pulling through his nose. “You must consider what will provide you fulfillment, and pursue it.”

She nodded slowly, trying to push her loneliness to the side, because whatever thoughts and feelings were surfacing were not welcome. The closest she came to that sense of completion were her moments with Garrus, and with her confession looming she was close to losing them.

She had to tell him, of course, but she also had to be prepared to lose the delicate happiness he provided her. He’d never want to hurt her, but that was inevitable, wasn’t it?

“Maybe someday I will, Mordin.”

His wide smile was kind and encouraging. “What are you waiting for?”

She blew a breath out pursed lips. “A lot, I guess. For now, at least.” Then, flashing a stern look at Mordin, she said, “Don’t tell Garrus I cried,”

Mordin nodded decisively. “Secret is safe.”

She turned to him, stiffening her shoulders to regain composure while she wiped at the stray tears at the corner of her eyes. “Oh yeah? We all know how well you keep secrets. Like when you told me Garrus said I smell funny.”

“That was different, and many years ago. Trying to help then. If you say Garrus should not be told, can only trust that you are right.”

She took another breath in, then out, before she looked back to Mordin, finally ready to address her questions about the boy’s injuries.

“Curious, though,” Mordin said. “Why not discuss this with Garrus? Not that I mind discussing your emotional health, happy to help, but do you not talk to each other about sensitive topics such as this?”

Last week Val had called to cancel their trip to the museum. She manufactured a reason why she couldn't, a vid rental abut to expire, but her voice betrayed her — her tone had been a forced, bright notch thinly veiling exhaustion.

Garrus had said he didn’t want to talk about it, of course. And Jane didn’t push.

“He’s got his own worries right now,” Jane said.

“Fair. Now that emotions out of way. What can I do for you, Jane?”

Jane recalled the warmth in Garrus’s smooth hide when she’d brushed her fingertip along his mandible. The galaxy hadn’t stopped spinning. Nothing changed between them, they were still friends.

Maybe confessing wouldn't be so bad. Jane shoved her hands in her pockets and stood a bit straighter.

Emotions out of the way. God, wouldn't it be nice if that were possible?

Chapter End Notes

> I know the slow burn is insane, and I apologize it's so, well, slow, lol. I promise in just a few chapters things will heat up! Thanks for putting up with it 😁

> And thanks for all the comments on the last chapter! Each one was a huge boost of motivation to keep plugging away.

## Ghosts

Chapter Summary

> A latent memory surfaces, and an inkling forms

Chapter Notes

> I really like this chapter, hope ya'll enjoy it too 😊

> Songs I had on loop: Buzzcut Season, Lorde; Last Time, Giveon and Snoh Aalegra

Skin longs just as deeply as the mind. Deeper. Deeper than the heart, even. In her mind, her heart, her skin, Jane longed for touch.

In her mind the case sat front and center but her parents, her loneliness, the need to feel warmth and softness, rolled and flitted at the edge of her consciousness.

Two hours after leaving the morgue, and ten minutes after putting away the autopsy report, Jane stepped into the headquarters elevator next to Garrus. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed an ankle over the other. She touched the very tips of her cold fingers to the center of her warm forehead, closed her eyes, and took a rallying breath. Heat lapped at her scalp, and the thought of buzzing her hair clean off briefly tempted her.

Garrus would need to bug her a wig if he wanted to keep playing with hair. Although she could gather up all of hers and hand it to him in a sack. He probably would lose his love affair with it then. The thought of his grimace as she handed it to him gave her an inward smile that must have shown through, because Garrus stole a sideways look at her and smiled too. The simmering sparkle in his eyes sent pleasant little sparks up her spine, made the back of her neck tense.

Jane’s mind had to be divided between tasks. But skin? Skin existed only to feel, to indulge, and god, did she want to indulge.

How did someone exist while harboring that hunger?

It was like a little flower unfurling within her sternum, petals falling, spreading, expanding and all she could do was tend it like an eager, witless gardener, her attentive fingers playing at its edges with no real understanding of the strange knot taking root inside her.

They walked to the skycar port. Standing by the kiosk, a chatting couple, hand in hand, fell beside them, all smiles and honey-sweet looks. The happy pair stood a considerate distance away, more than a Garrus-sized arm length, yet their nearness was slightly stifling, like being shoved in a tight space with no room to breathe your own air. They kissed and laughed as if they weren’t surrounded by other commuters. Despite a prickling agitation, the sight of their happiness warmed Jane’s heart.

What would it be like to be so wrapped up in each other that no one else exists?

Garrus noticed them too, his eyes flicking from them, then to his feet. With the slightest amused lift of his mandibles, he glanced at Jane and they shared a smile before they both went back to observing the ground. Jane wanted to shift away from them, but worried that if she shifted towards Garrus it’d be even more awkward. The urge to chuckle welled up in her, but she held it in, until Garrus cleared his throat knowing full well it would break her chuckle free.

Nerd. Jerk. As her chest rattled and her hand slapped to her mouth to stifle huffs of laughter, he exuded pride. She reached out and poked his side for it.

A turian in a business suit behind them angrily chittered, calling attention to the skycar that had pulled up and waited, empty, for her and Garrus to get in. Garrus gave a sincere sorry to the frustrated commuters held up by their jacking around, urging Jane inside with a hand at her back.

She and Garrus didn’t kiss or cling to each other, of course, but there were moments with him when Jane lost track of space and time.

In the skycar, Jane imagined skin kissing her skin, a body pressed to hers. The simple act of being touched would be an explosion, a cataclysm. How did people persist their whole life not being with someone else? If you shut out the light, stop feeding it, perhaps, eventually, the hunger starves.

That prospect comforted her, and also saddened her.

Arriving in her neighborhood, they drug themselves from the skycar and to her building, shuffling amongst others who traveled the packed sidewalks on their way home, or out to enjoy their evening.

“Where’d you end up at the end of the day with the car, and the timeline?” she asked as Garrus punched the Door Close button with his eyes set on a group of her neighbors sprinting to catch it. He was a bastard, but he did it for her, so they'd have a peaceful elevator ride. She’d seen it in the way he looked at her afterwards. They leaned against the back wall tucked in together, her shoulder to his bicep, despite being the elevator’s only occupants. The closeness made her skin sing.

“James got a decent start on tracking down registered K-31s. I’m still wading through interviews for the timeline. Should have it nailed down early tomorrow, though.”

Garrus glanced down at her with earnest eyes, and she expected the speech before he got a word out.

“Help me out here, Jane. You can’t just bolt from your desk. If Pallin comes by, I at least want to know where you are.”

“I’m sorry for that. But not for chewing the candy bar.”

He chided her with a lifted brow, and he probably would have actually said something if he didn’t envy her ability to annoy Nihlus so easily.

“Did you talk to Pallin?” she asked.

“No, he never even came over.”

That made her feel worse; she’d abandoned Garrus and it hadn’t even been necessary.

“I just didn’t want to talk to him about the case, not until we know more.” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “But I’ll send him an update tomorrow.”

“What are you so worried about? We’re making progress.” He was right, of course.

“I just wish we knew more by now.”

Garrus’s elbow tapped her shoulder. Somehow he made even a simple nudge comforting. “We just found Adam two days ago.”

“I know,” she said. “I just can’t stop feeling so—”

Garrus stopped her words by taking her in his arms and with no thought, with no perception other than her singing skin, she melted into his embrace.

The first time he ever gave her a hug they’d been in an elevator and it had been equally surprising. She hadn’t expected either hug, and she’d desperately needed both.

At first her arms hung loose. She thought that maybe those secret words could spill out, that she adored him and needed him, but he was so soft, so warm, and his hold on her so sure. If she confessed then, as he offered his friendship in her moment of loneliness, he’d pull back. In the future, if she ever needed a hug, or a hand-hold, surely he’d hesitate. Surely he’d be too afraid of stoking her affection.

So she tightened her jaw, and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing so tight she could feel each of his large breaths working in and out of his lungs.

He didn’t even complain.

Relaxing, she allowed her body to fall into his, tucking herself right in under his keel, right where she could hear and feel his soft subvocals purr for her, easing her, telling her to be calm.

By the time the elevator stopped at her floor, she felt more calm than she had in months.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“I know.” His breath warmed the top of her head.

One of her neighbors stepped into the elevator. Smiling, their eyes flicked from her and Garrus still holding each other, then down to the floor. She and Garrus pulled away from each other, and left the warm-lit elevator to walk down the hallway where skycars zipped past in a trail of neon.

The lure of pizza and rest were just a short walk away, tucked behind her doorway. She only wanted to eat, throw a vid on, and melt into her couch. They had work to do, though, so much work. Autopsy, timeline, vehicle tracking, interviews. The watch and biotics, which hadn’t even been looked into yet. Unsure of whether she had the energy, or mental capacity to handle it, she slumped against the wall. Without so much as a quirked browplate or flick of his mandible, Garrus stopped by her side. Behind him, skycars zipped past, their bright lights fracturing over the windowed walls. He tucked his hands in his pockets.

He was so calm. So patient.

“I’ve seen so many bodies by now,” she said. “They all just pile up...don’t you feel like you’ve seen too many? All lying in living rooms, park benches, alleys? And sometimes they just pop into your head uninvited.”

A faraway look hazed his eyes; she wasn’t certain if from concentration, or the lack of. “I’ve probably killed more people than I’ve seen murdered on the Citadel.”

That admission stole the breath from her. just when she thought she’d acclimated to the harsh reality of her best friend’s previous life, he’d go and say something like that.

“Fuck, Garrus,” she muttered.

“I’m not saying I have, mind you. There’s no count, official at least, but it’s perfectly likely,” he said plainly and she could imagine him running the numbers in his head, and she hoped to god he wouldn't share the sum. “The Hierarchy put my skills to good use pretty early.”

He looked down at her, probably having arrived at a number, and regret darkened his expression. “Sorry. I know it’s different for you.”

A heavy breath lifted his chest before it fell into a tired sigh. The familiar look he gave her — warm, kind — was just as comforting as his embraces.

With a quiet ding and whoosh of sliding doors, one of her neighbors exited the elevator. Garrus waited for the woman to disappear down the hall before he started again.

“What matters is what’s here, now. You wanna know what I think about? I worry about Adam’s mom, that poor woman who will never see her son again. I focus on telling her that we found the murderer. Because if I focus on everything else, I’ll go crazy.”

“You’re so good at compartmentalizing. How do you separate your feelings so easily?”

He shrugged with a strength, a confidence, she admired. “It’s something I have to work on, more than you’d think. Point is, we can’t take back what’s been done, but we can make sure justice prevails. For the people still here, and for society. A murderer takes a life and we take theirs. As much of it as we can, at least.”

Something in him softened, catching her off guard. “Hey, maybe it’s time for another visit with a therapist?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think about that asshole much. Maybe that makes me heartless, but it’s never him that makes work difficult.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need to talk about it.”

Jane peeled herself from the wall then headed in the direction of her doorway. “I need a drink.”

Garrus fell in step beside her. “Nihlus wants you to try meditating instead of drinking so much.”

“Did you tell Nihlus that he has his torture devices, and I have alcohol?”

“Let’s not go there,” Garrus said, passing a hand over his fringe.

Poor Garrus, stuck up on that cross, of course he wouldn't mention Nihlus’s toys, offering himself up for ribbing. He’d probably avoid the topic of sex toys for a good long while.

A phantom fizzle sparked up her wrist, then the memory of Garrus’s eyes darkening with a knee-weakening shimmer of care, and his hand tenderly but securely wrapped around her wrist.

A care kink was not something she expected in her thirties, especially not connected with Garrus, and in front of Kasumi and Nihlus.

Absolutely mortifying.

She’d avoid the topic of violet wands for eternity .

“Rocket’ll be happy to see you again so soon,” she said, forcing a bounce to lift her steps. Totally casually. Not that she had terrible pervy thoughts in her head. “I think he gets disappointed that I can’t purr back at him. I see it in his poor little confused face.”

“You should ask Miranda to make you an implant that mimics subvocals.”

She tilted her head, pretending to seriously consider it. Miranda had talked about an implant that allowed humans to hear subvocals, but something that allowed humans to produce subvocals seemed too far-fetched.

Despite that, the idea settled into Jane’s head. What would Garrus think of her producing subvocals? Just like him. Just like a turian. How weird it would be to hear subvocals rippling from her own body. Maybe she wouldn't feel the thrumming, though.

Garrus hummed, mischief rolling through his voice. “I just got an idea. Let’s try drinking and meditating.”

She laughed softly. “I think that’s just called passing out drunk.”

“Hey, you worry about semantics and I’ll worry about logistics. Speaking of logistics, isn’t this gym night?”

“I’m skipping it. This is now pizza night.”

🔪🔪🔪

In Jane’s apartment, she ran upstairs to change into shorts and a top, and in the spare bedroom he changed into some comfortable clothes he kept there. Her spare bedroom held half his wardrobe. A few suits for work, some lounge clothes. He remembered that she left a C-Sec hoodie at his place weeks ago, told himself he’d remember to tell her, then forgot.

They ordered dinner. Dextro pizza, modeled exactly after pizza from Earth, wasn’t a dish he’d fallen in love with, to put it mildly. He’d survive eating it every once and a while, though, when Jane had a craving. Watching her devour it with uninhibited passion made up for the sandy crust and mushy meat.

Nihlus, the crazy bastard, loved pizza; he’d even bring Jane leftovers anytime he made some for Kasumi.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Jane popped the last bite of crust into her mouth and flopped to the back of the couch, closing her eyes as her jaw worked at the final too-large bite. She swallowed, then stretched out her arms behind her head.

Garrus slid his mostly empty plate onto the coffee table, and her eyes connected with his, just as they did at the skycar port while they both tried to ignore the blissfully happy couple and failed miserably.

A curious little thought popped into his head. Jane hadn’t seemed happy about going on the date with that guy. Not before, not during, and definitely not after. So why did she ask him out?

"Hey, why..." he started, then froze, wishing he'd just kept his mouth shut.

"What?" she asked softly, her gaze flicking over his face.

His heart thumped in his chest, telling him to just stop, or pretend he forgot what he’d already started asking.

"Why did you…"

Rationality guided Garrus’s actions, and he liked that. It made life easier. Trouble was, in moments when he really needed a dose of logic, emotional impulses took right over. And if there was anything that habitually got his emotions flaring, it was Jane.

So of course the words just slid out. "Why did you go out on that date? Did you actually like him?" His voice almost caught, but somehow every word came out, every syllable clear and strong. His heart pounded as he waited for her reaction, all the while wondering how badly it would hurt if she said that she had, indeed, liked the guy.

Her gaze fell to her hands where her fingers played with a thread in the cushion seam. "No. Why?"

“Then why did you ask him out?” He turned to her, and couldn't temper the hope sticking to the walls of his esophagus, or the anxious ripple sitting in the middle of his throat, just waiting to buzz free.

He shrugged, as if that little movement could lift his body out of the dangling pit he’d just dug himself into. “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.”

“I—” her top teeth pulled at her bottom lip. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You never have to tell me something that embarrasses you, if you don’t want to. You know I’ll never judge you, though. If you did something awkward, or…”

She shook her head, and she still wouldn’t look up at him. “I’m ashamed. I didn’t do something silly, I did something terrible. Mean.”

“You don’t have a mean notch in your bones.”

She rubbed her hands along her thighs, but said nothing.

“Mean to who?” he asked, a moment of wary rising up, his mind only filled with possibilities and no probable answers.

“To that guy, Kaiden. I wasn’t attracted to him, not at all. I didn’t want to go on a date, and I shouldn’t have asked him out.”

“Why’d you do it, then?”

"Because the attention felt good. It's selfish and sad, but..."

As her chest lifted with an emotion-heavy breath, his own sank.

“I asked him out because I’m lonely. I told you last night that I am and I guess I’m just starting to realize how bad it is. Everyday I come home to a dark, empty apartment and Rocket’s my only company. It’s sad, and I feel so—” Her voice caught. “I feel stupid.”

At that moment, on her couch, he'd never been so close to telling her exactly what he thought about her, like how her eyes melted his heart and her lips made his tongue tingle. He thought about telling her that she made him so happy he could spend the rest of his life in the dark and still feel warm.

Jane needed him to keep her warm in the dark. She needed a good friend, not one falling for her.

“I don’t even want to date. I’m just lonely sometimes.”

Her cautious eyes watched him while she played with that little thread, pulling it and plucking it. Did she want him to say something? Of course she did. She just bared her soul to him and all he could do in response was gawk at her with twitching mandibles.

“Hey.” Garrus took her hand, rescuing it from its frantic abuse of the thread. Smoothing his palm against hers, winding his fingers with hers, his gentle squeeze a promise. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been around a lot lately. But you can’t be lonely with a cat and a seven-foot turian around, right? We’ll hang out more, like we used to.”

“It’s okay,” she said, her attention resting on their bound hands. “I’ve been so…work has been awful, and you’ve been dealing with stuff too. It’s okay, I don’t expect you to be here all the time just because I’m lonely. It’s not your job to take care of me like that.”

“Well that’s unfair.”

She turned to him, confusion twisting her downcast brows.

“Because it’s your job to take care of me. You’re the only person who will. Pretty unfair exchange we have here if that’s the case. It’s in my favor of course, but…”

She laughed, soft, sad.

“I’ll be around more,” he promised. “I’m sorry I haven’t been. But it doesn't need to be like that anymore. Things just got so…” He took a quick breath and squeezed her hand. “Life has been kind of a mess, huh?”

“You have no idea.” She rested her temple against the back cushion, eyes blinking slowly. He wasn’t sure if Rocket had picked up the slow-blink from her, or she got it from him. “We have a very unusual friendship.”

“How so?”

Her smile twitched with disbelief, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah,” he admitted without further prompt, “but I’m happy.”

“Me too.”

“A hug and a handhold in one day? How’d I get so lucky?”

“I owe you a few.”

With his bare pedi-talon, Garrus scooted his plate with two chewed-on pizza crusts to the far end of the table so he could prop his feet up. Jane scooted next to him, handed him his datapad, and propped her feet up as well. His reached the far end of the coffee table, nearly hanging off the edge, but Jane’s short little legs only got her feet as far as the edge closest to them. She chuckled and poked his calf with her big toe.

“You’re too tall.”

“I’m just tall enough.”

“For what?”

With just a sly little look, he told her she already knew.

“What did you say? Intimidating and dominating others?”

“Glad you remembered.” He gave her a dark, playful look. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

“You’re a nerd.”

“An intimidating, dominating nerd,” he said, failing at containing his grin.

Jane smiled up at him, then her focus drifted to the vid as it started.

“You wanna go over the timeline first?” Garrus asked.

“Can we just watch the vid a while?” With slow-blinking eyes, she sank into the cloud-like cushions.

“Sure. We don’t even have to go over any of this tonight.”

“I feel bad not working two nights in a row with a fresh case in our hands.” Jane yawned, and her eyes blinked slower.

Garrus placed his datapad on the coffee table, sank back into the couch as well, and focused on the vid. “Work’ll be easier tomorrow if you’re rested. There’s nothing burning in our hands right now, it can wait until tomorrow morning.”

She shook her head. “Let’s just watch it for a few minutes, then we’ll get to work.”

“Sure,” he repeated.

She’d fall asleep soon. Not that he cared about that, he only cared that she looked drained by stress and a lack of sleep.

“Why do you like this one so much?” Jane asked, folding her hands over the plane of skin between her shirt and shorts.

The first shot showed the male lead sprawled out on his couch, a musical instrument, a guitar, in his lap. A soothing, pensive melody playing as he looked over at the female lead, his best friend of three thousand years.

Humans created mythical creatures that lived as long as asari, but that came with a price: having to feed on blood. It was a ludicrous idea, Garrus knew, but the very first vampire vid they watched hooked him. Vampires lived such melancholy lives, hiding from themselves and others. As someone who coped through shoving all his thoughts and feelings into manageable boxes, he sympathized.

This vid in particular had tugged at his heart the first time they watched it. The main characters had been in love for centuries, but never let the other know.

Thinking it over, it became ridiculously clear — embarrassingly obvious — why the story drew him in.

The characters’ spirit-deep friendship.

Jane’s elbow nudged his side, but for some reason telling her that felt strange.

“I dunno,” he said, resting his arm along the back of the couch, behind her head. “The color palette is soothing, greens and blacks. And the cinematography. Each frame draws you into the scene. Half the story is told just by the composition in each shot. Like, see how the guitar is pivoted towards her? He expresses his emotions through music, it’s his passion. So he’s directing what he loves towards her.”

“Art nerd,” Jane muttered, and he smiled, ruffling her hair with his whole hand cupping the top of her head.

Rocket jumped onto the couch. After a drawn-out back and forth between their laps, his little paws jabbing into their legs, Rocket finally settled on Jane’s, and her hand smoothed over his fuzzy coat. That was the pull of the trigger. She’d be asleep in no time.

Fifteen minutes in, and thirteen longing stares between the vampire couple, Jane’s temple landed against his arm. Then her whole body relaxed against him. They hadn’t been so close, so many inches of their bodies touching each other, since dancing in the kitchen.

Jane slept next to him as he watched the vid, and he only felt gratitude for their friendship, that he could offer her an arm to sleep on. Sure, he wanted to pull her close, but the desire didn’t burn. His heart was free of the singe he’d come to expect from being so near to her.

Jane began to slide down the couch as her body succumbed to sleep. Rocket abandoned his now precarious place on her lap with a bold leap to the floor, seeking the warmth of the fireplace. Garrus sunk down a bit deeper into the cushion, and let her body recline back against his, slumping into a little puddle at his side. With only her little shorts and a cropped shirt on she’d be freezing if he didn’t get her a blanket.

The pink-knot scar that once tore into her abdomen now only ticked her alabaster skin, a faint silver ripple. Yes, recalling Lorik’s talon stroking her abdomen still stretched his heart with unease. That jealousy might require a few more calibrations.

Trying to wash the ancient jealousy away, an image drifted into Garrus’s mind of Jane in his arms. Them lying on a couch together, her soft, warm body nestled into his side, her hand on his keel, her head on his chest, her eyes looking up at him with affection that certainly wasn’t platonic. Her golden freckles scattered across her round cheeks that burned sunset-rose

The images were diaphanous, only an apparition, but some things were clear. They weren’t on just any couch, it was his couch they laid on. He said her name — Jane — and reached out to her stomach, where her scar peeked from beneath a scrunched-up hoodie. He stroked the pink knot, and wanted to tell her how scared he’d been holding her in that alley, how much she meant to him, how much he wanted to hold her like that forever. But the words wouldn’t come out, they grew in his mind, sat in his mouth, but only her name left his tongue.

That apparition hovered just past his conscious mind, he could make out the edges of it, it seemed to have form and substance, but it wasn’t whole. Logic said it must have been a dream. Maybe one that had visited him more than once, because it felt so real.

But so far from reality.

He brushed the thoughts aside and reached for the blanket at the far end of the couch with an arm that was absolutely proportional to his body. He spread the blanket over Jane, wrapped it around her shoulders, and she didn’t move an inch, but a little snore sneaked out her nose.

Damn her for being so cute, she made it so hard not to adore her.

She would be disappointed when she woke up, sure, but he let her sleep anyway because she needed the rest more than the case needed their extra hours. He went back to watching the vid, appreciating the characters’ platonic friendship, but also frustrated that they didn’t realize how in love they were. How lucky they were.

🔪🔪🔪

A deep breath lifted Jane’s chest and roused her heavy-fuzzy mind. She’d been watching the vid with eyelids slipping shut each time she blinked, but suddenly they were battened shut.

Warmth cradled her body, but in her crop top and shorts she’d been cold.

She’d fallen asleep, god dammit, and a soft blanket lay atop her skin.

With the drag of a slow inhalation, a warm, muscled body swelled against her own.

“ Jane ,” Garrus’s voice drifted through her mind dreamily; soft, tender, like a single finger stroke up her spine.

“The vid’s almost over,” Garrus said, his words vibrating, shimmering through her. Contact from his body to hers. Their bodies touching.

She’d fallen asleep. On Garrus.

Her eyes burst open. Jolting upright, a blanket she hadn’t put over herself fell from her shoulders, pooling in her lap. “Fuck, I’m so sorry I fell asleep on you.”

He only shrugged. “Not the first time.”

“ What ?”

Her heart burst from her chest, pounding, pounding. Thoughts slammed through her mind, rushing sounds and colors. Did he know? Did he remember cuddling on his couch? Sleeping in each others’ arms?

In complete contrast to her panic, Garrus remained calm, if slightly confused. “Hey, easy there, you’ve fallen asleep on my arm before. At my cousin’s naming ceremony last, I think.

She blinked at him.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Jane shook her head, scooting away from him. His cousin’s naming ceremony had been…before his spur injury. Before they slept on the couch.

“You okay?” His caring eyes searched hers. “I’m really starting to worry about you.”

“Yeah, I’m just sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. I’m a mess right now.”

“Well I’m glad you finally took over. I was getting sick of being the mess.” He nudged her knee with a hooked knuckle. “You’re working yourself too hard. Lay back down, relax.”

He had no idea what had startled her, why panic pumped through her veins. Because she never told him about sleeping with him on his couch. It was a blank spot for him, no memories of her resting in his arms. And god, had she meant to tell him, but days turned to weeks all while she couldn't find the words. Suddenly months had passed, and how was she supposed to tell him months later, that while he was on painkillers and out of his mind she let herself fall asleep in his arms?

Because if he knew that, it was only a matter of time before he put it all together. Her longing looks during skycar rides, the way she swelled when he held her.

He deserved to know. Of course he did. Just like he deserved to know that there was so much more to her affection than simple friendship. Blurting it out wasn’t an option, though, she needed to figure out her words, put together a plan.

And they had to focus on the case. Confessing then would distract them both, and her dumb heart wasn’t more important than Adam.

Garrus took the edge of the blanket in her lap, and pulled it up to her shoulder.

“Can we get a little work done?” she asked.

He gave her a little scowl. “Fine, but only an hour, then we’re watching another vid.”

“You can’t force me to rest.”

“I’ll put on old episodes of Knight Errands.”

“You play mean.”

She narrowed her eyes, riding out the moment, making him think he hadn’t immediately won — he was cocky enough already.

He already knew, though, his cute little mandible ticking out to the side said so, and there was no use fighting.

“Fine. Deal.”

He grabbed their datapads from the coffee table, sliding hers into her lap. While she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders like a comforting cape his talons clicked and dragged on his screen.

Secret is safe, Mordin had said in the morgue. She’d been keeping so many, and the secrecy was getting so tiring.

She’d tell him. Start with what happened on the couch, say her emotions got the better of her and she let herself lie with him. Then use that to explain that her heart hoped for more than friendship. Yes, they were close, they shared hugs and held hands, but it wasn’t those things she’d thought of when she laid in his arms on his couch.

When she let him stroke her scar with a careful touch.

She’d apologize. Hopefully, once he knew how she felt, and told her he didn’t feel the same, they’d still be close. Still best friends. They’d make it through.

The night before her flight to Earth, she’d invite him over, tell him everything, and the next morning she’d be on a ship, far away. Two weeks apart, and half a galaxy between them, to figure everything out.

Two lonely weeks without messaging each other, sharing random thoughts, funny crap from the extranet, pictures of them doing weird things or showing off beautiful sights, or hanging out with family.

Jane pulled up the files gathered on Charles Udina’s company, Spark Technologies, shuffling straight to the biotics research division. Years of research, development, assessments, and nothing had come of it so far. They were trying to build a biotic replication device, but it was weak, only lifting plastic cups. It definitely wasn’t capable of lifting a thirteen-year-old. No leads there, nothing immediately interesting appeared on her screen.

Until she pulled up an Alliance News Network piece praising Spark Industries ambitious biotics research. An image caught her focus, her pulse quickened. In it, Charles stood in the lab, his lead researcher, a human born with biotics named Ben Mintz born, beside him. And in between Charles and Ben was Adam, his toothy grin and shaggy hair making him look so incredibly young, and innocent. On Adam’s wrist, the biotic replication device.

A dozen questions trailed through Jane’s mind as she tapped her fingertip to the tip of her nose, a steady, slow beat in sync with Garrus’s filed talon tapping against his datapad screen. They’d need to visit that lab, and meet Ben.

Suddenly, Garrus looked over at her. She waited for him to speak, because it looked like his mind was grappling with something. Maybe a piece of evidence, maybe a little thread that would lead to something big.

“What?” she finally said.

"You're wonderful, Jane. There are guys out there who wish they had something more with you."

He sounded so certain, and maybe that’s why it hurt.

"Maybe.” The laugh that followed was gentle, but only because she held back the bitterness choking her lungs.

She couldn't say anything else, and he didn’t say anything else. But the way his mandibles hugged his jawline made her think that unspoken words hung between them, he just couldn’t release them. And his eyes. They were soft, and warm, just like they were so frequently when he looked at her. But this time she noticed something else, something that she saw in Papa’s eyes when he looked at Gran, in the way Castis looked at Val.

Without speaking, Garrus’s chin tucked, and his gaze fell back to his datapad. Something tugged at her heart, telling her not to let go of that moment, to hold on tight. As tight as his arms held her in the elevator, as tight as his hand squeezed hers when she admitted that she used a stranger to feel desired.

“Garrus shows his feelings through touch.”

“Garrus?”

His face lifted to her, and there it was again, that look. Like a face turning towards sunshine, radiating in warmth and light.

For the first time, around the knot rooted in Jane’s sternum, shimmered a halo of hope.

## Heat

Chapter Summary

> Garrus gets testy, and Jane tests the waters

Chapter Notes

> First, I apologize for the length of this chapter. I've been trying to hold myself to shorter chapters to make reading them more manageable...but this one ran away with me 😁 Despite the length, I hope you all enjoy!

> Songs I had on Loop: I’m God, Clam Casino & Imogen Heap; I’m on Fire, Awolnation

> And thanks once again to DiaphanousO for all the help with this chapter ❤️

Jane was late. Only by ten minutes, which didn’t alarm Garrus, but her punctuality rivaled his father’s. Without her by his side at the coffee shop, Garrus wasn’t quite sure what to do, but after dutifully standing at the entrance for a few minutes, and after she sent a message apologizing, he ordered her regular and took a picture of a bench under a tree sitting across the sidewalk and overlooking the lake. He sat down, telling her that’s where he’d be.

They could meet at the office, of course, but Jane needed a bit of daylight, fake or not, to wake up.

On the tree limbs stretching out over his head, buds ready to burst scented the air with something sweet, something that reminded him of mela. He thought of his grandfather squeezing a line of the glistening gold sweetener into crimson tea, and wished he was back on Palaven, running through his grandparents’ gardens playing palae with Sol.

A bird swooped over his head, its fluttering wings carrying it to a branch over his shoulder. It hm hmmed a dulcet song, repeating it until the bright notes echoed in Garrus’s mind. Finally a second landed, excitedly skipping closer to the first. Chickadees. The Citadel was packed with invasive species from all over the galaxy. For some reason the chickadees had adapted well, becoming a normal sight for Garrus as he grew up.

A month after arriving on the Citadel, Jane had watched one flicker by then land on the sidewalk to peck at a crumb. When she turned to Garrus she blinked away the shine in her eyes and squared her shoulders. That moment had been the first time his heart pulled toward her. She wasn’t the type to cry in front of others, he’d gathered, so he never mentioned it.

So when they found a quarian eviscerated in a dark corridor and Jane’s tears flowed down her cheeks, even though she tried to blink them back, he’d stopped the elevator and held her until he pulled a laugh from her and she wiped away her tears.

“Cute friends you got there.” Jane’s cheerful, tired-hoarse voice took his attention from the chickadees. Slow steps missing her characteristic bounce carried her to the bench. She sat down next to him, and after checking labels, picked up her coffee. “Thanks. I need this.”

She looked more tired than she sounded, and he wished she’d slept longer the night before, instead of insisting they work.

“Stay up late after I left?” he asked.

“No, woke back up, got stuck watching reruns of Melodic Morphology.”

Her current favorite show. Two linguists, one turian, the other human, meet after the 314 Incident and fall in love. It was her comfort show and usually calmed her nerves.

But sitting across from him, the grip on her cup was too tight, and the hang of her arm too slack. She’d had a nightmare probably, but if he asked her about it she would probably just side-step the question. Over the past few weeks the circles under her eyes had been gradually darkening. Maybe he needed to send a message to Ed and Alice, not to alarm them, just to make sure they made her rest.

An incoming message pinged on Garrus’s omni-tool. Even before looking his heart dropped. That would be his dad’s fifth message that morning. He quickly attempted to close it so he could cast it out of sight and mind, but his hand wasn’t as quick as Jane’s eyes. She leaned in to peek at the screen just as the message disappeared.

“Why are you avoiding Castis?” Jane sipped her coffee, slipping into bliss, eyes fluttering shut.

“Simply agitating him is reason enough.”

Her eyes opened wide, lips an unamused line that made him immediately regret his smartass reply.

Mostly.

“Dad found out about a treatment that a Salarian medical group is working on. One of the lead researchers is one of Mordin’s old colleagues, so Dad wants to talk about it, see if I’ll ask Mordin to connect us so Mom can get in.”

Her cheeks swelled with a smile. “ That’s great .”

Garrus picked up his coffee and nodded, his attention rising back to the pair of songbirds.

“The results are promising?” she asked, caution now shadowing her excitement. Every single adjustment she made throughout her day to make his life easier never escaped him.

He nodded again, along with a compulsive shrug.

“What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know. His hopes are already star-high and…”

Though he trusted Jane in every way, he couldn’t muster up the words, couldn't say his fear out loud: “ What if I let in a sliver of hope, and let myself imagine Mom still being alive in twenty years, not dead in ten, and what if the treatment doesn’t help at all.”

He didn’t have to say them out loud, though, because Jane took his hand, squeezed, then let it go. With that simple action the conversation was over. She’d return to it, but only when he was ready.

She inclined her head to look up at the birds and smiled sweetly.

“I remember the first time you saw them here,” he said.

“Mm, I almost teared up like a damn baby.” Her smile didn’t fade.

“Still surprised you didn’t leave like all the others.”

She shrugged. “It was hard moving here by myself, of course, and you didn’t make it easy at first.”

“Me? I walked on talon-tips around you.”

“Exactly. So I was sure that you hated me, you were so quiet—”

“There was zero chance I hated you, because you were amazing. But I just knew I’d mess it up somehow. Thought I better keep my mandibles tight and maybe you’d stay.”

She shook her head, her soft smile pulling out to a grin. “You didn’t think I was amazing. You told Mordin I smelled bad.”

“Not bad, just weird . And that had nothing to do with how hard you worked, or your values.”

“Weird isn’t a good way to describe someone’s smell.”

“I should have said different .”

There was both exasperation and amusement in the way her head tilted. “You shouldn’t have even been smelling me!”

It wasn’t like he’d meant to. He’d just been surprised at the uniqueness at first, and then even more surprised when he found it pleasant.

“It was a nice, a good, scent. You know.” His tight mandibles jittered, tickling his jaw.

“No, I don’t really know. You could elaborate for me, though.” Her eyebrow ticked, and she smirked.

It was just a tease, but it felt different, warmer, and slightly confusing.

“Pretty certain it was you that hated me,” he said, pivoting away from talking about the way she smelled. “And after Mordin told you what I said, I was sure you’d either request a transfer, or give me a cracked mandible.”

“I never hated you. You were a headache some days, for sure.” She paused, picking at the label on her coffee cup, her eyes lifting to him from beneath her soft looking eyelashes. “You didn’t really think I was amazing at first. You thought I was slow and—”

“Not slow, just short. Didn’t expect to have to give my partner a boost just to climb on top of shipping crates.” He flashed a smirk. “Like a fledgling.”

Her lips quivered, and he could almost feel the laugh buzzing in her chest. “You ass.”

“Funny how the one with the big ass isn’t called ass .”

“You’re going to get slapped today. You’re asking for it. And you know what? Your ass is wider than mine, so the ass jokes—”

“You have me beat on volume, though.”

She reached right out and pinched his waist and their melded chuckles outshined the chickadees’ song.

She twisted to face him fully, sliding her knee up on the bench between them and using it to nudge his thigh. “So you thought I was short, smelled weird, and couldn’t organize reports correctly. I’d be offended, but that’s better than being incredibly uptight and possibly unhinged.”

Amusement tickled in his lower vocals. “Unhinged? That’s clearly hyperbole.”

She sipped her coffee, playfully casting her eyes to the side.

He wasn’t sure why her teasing flustered him so much that morning. It wasn't her words, but… her voice had a mela quality to it both familiar and new.

“Well, if that’s true why didn’t you request a transfer, or just crack me in the mandible when I acted up?”

“Thought about it.” Her eyes landed on his face, settling on his mandible, his mouth, his eyes. Her voice softened. “Figured if I used my words instead, you’d get to keep that handsome face.”

A fluttering friction threatened to take hold in his chest, but he isolated it, and tucked it right where it should be, in a compartment titled “friend”.

“Honestly,” Jane said. “What did you really think of me when I walked up to you that first day?” Her nose scrunched. “Besides that I’m so damned short.”

When he’d first laid eyes on her, it hadn't been her height that he noticed, but the immense quality of her spirit. From his desk, he and Nihlus had watched her approach. She wore black military-style boots, but shorter, just to the ankle. Black unbuttoned jacket, black pants, and a light blue shirt neatly tucked in but also defiantly loose. Her hair, shorter then, framed her face, brushing her cheeks as she turned to take in the room, her desk, him, with green, sharp eyes flicking from one place to the next. She was so warm, soft but searing. He’d immediately felt lulled, but also on edge, like something important was about to happen, and he better be ready for it.

How do you tell someone they came into your life like a supernova, though, tipping an equilibrium, setting everything ablaze, without admitting that you’d been mesmerized by them ever since?

Measure it back, of course. “I thought you looked strong, and smart,” he said, voice steady but still too warm. “And when you told Nihlus to get his ass off your desk, and he actually listened to you, I thought I was luckier than all the other detectives, so I better hold on to you. Damned glad that I did.”

Her smile didn’t fade or diminish, but something happened, some shift in her demeanor that was so subtle, and so sudden, that he wasn’t sure if his words were the cause, or something else. The scattered starry warmth in her eyes gathered into sparkling clusters.

Suddenly she felt too close, too close for him to keep her in a compartment where his feelings didn’t overtake the space between them.

His chuckle was meant to wash away the awkward silence, but then he felt pulled into her so close and so tight, that the birds, the coffee shop, and all the quick-footed people shifting down the sidewalk blurred. It didn’t feel like he was sinking, or lifting, but spinning. The galaxy spun and all he felt was heavy and solid and all he saw was her.

“Not going to share your actual first impression of me?” he asked, trying to settle despite the whirling.

She was going to say something funny, thankfully, he could tell in the way she kept her face straight but hunched her shoulders an inch. Her hand rustled her hair.

“My first thought was that they would’ve recruited more people if they'd sent you to Earth to stand next to the asari C-Sec rep.”

“The unhinged, uptight turian? Pardon my pessimism, but I’m doubting your sincerity.”

She smirked. “Notice that I said stand there , not open your mouth . You’re pretty, but…”

A laugh pulled out of him, his mandibles fanning out wide.

When they stopped chuckling she said, “I was terrified, honestly. But you kept your talons filed, and no one else did. And you lifted me up on crates when other humans were told to focus on evidence easier to get to. And you were funny. And you liked my cat, and you were so sweet to Gran and Papa when they wanted to get to know you. Didn’t take long to see that I got lucky, too.”

As the last note left her, everything slowed, but the heavy feeling persisted. How could she not know how easy it had been, being her partner? It should have felt like a struggle, like it did for everyone else, but it never felt that way to him.

“Ed and Alice are wonderful,” he said. “ My family…”

“Is perfect.”

“Forced you to come over for dinner once a month.”

“It was nice enjoying a meal with a family. It was something to look forward to… Still is.”

They stopped talking then, only smiled with the chickadees over their heads hmming to each other. Just as Garrus thought it would take a cataclysm to pry their gazes apart the chickadees burst from their perch into the bright sun, Jane’s eyes sank down to her omni-tool, and he was left staring at her, pulling in a quick breath.

“Shit, we’re late,” she said.

He stood. “Yeah.”

Everything stilled, finally. The sky-bound birds with flickering wings, the packed coffee shop, the rushing people, all settled, tethered by rigid rope to solid ground.

His mind focused on maps, streets, traffic lights and travel times from point A to point B. A car shooting thruster patterns into free-growing grass, and a watch lying haphazardly on a wet concrete ledge.

They had a case to solve with, so far, no leads.

🔪🔪🔪

At his desk, Garrus sent his dad a quick message — they’d talk after work. Hopefully by then he could think about his mom, and treatment. Until then, work would help him forget.

Finger on his cursor, his mind cleared, the clamor of the office subsided. He brought out the witness interviews. He’d spent days pouring over the information, organizing and categorizing. Now it was time to set it all to a visual representation of what happened that afternoon: a map zeroed in on Adam’s neighborhood, his house at one end, the park on the other.

Starting with Adam leaving his house, Garrus went line by line picking the details out. Each witness statement became a dot along the path that he packed with pertinent information, every minute detail he and Jane would utilize to solve this case: sightings, descriptions, times alongside calculated margins of error. Solid evidence in red, shaky in blue, unverifiable in green. When done with one dot, he’d collapse the note and move to the next dot, and the next. When they needed it, with a click of the cursor that dot would unfurl.

Zoom out, and each dot was a neat trail from his house to the park. Step by step. Closer and closer. At the dumpsite, zoom in close and everything important was marked — Adam’s body, the watch, the thruster spirals. They had plenty of notes on Adam’s body, and they desperately needed more information that he could add to the watch and the thruster notes.

Near lunchtime, Garrus typed up the last remaining note. At the foot of Adam’s body, the moment Regitus arrived on the scene and radioed headquarters calling for Homicide and Forensics. Garrus took a breath, rubbed his browplates, and sank into his chair.

“Welcome back to this dimension.”

Jane smiled at him across their desks. She had the autopsy photos pulled up, her haphazard notes littering her screen made his skin itch. Only someone as brilliant as her could make sense out of that chaos.

“Get a chance to look the timeline map over?” he asked.

“Yeah, I followed along as you worked on it. Looks damned tight to me. Good work.”

He nodded, and felt a twitch in his nose and pull in his mandibles, a yawn coming on. “We need to work on the watch. Any ideas?”

“Want a break first?”

He shook his head, and ignored the disapproving look she gave him. Yeah, he’d given her the same speech that morning; they both needed a break, but neither of them would be taking one anytime soon.

She brought up images of the watch. Her sharp eyes roamed the screen, ticking over each corner and every pixel in between. “It looks like an expensive piece. Has to be fairly uncommon.”

Her fingers tapped into her keyboard. Images popped up, she shifted through them. “Yup, it’s an expensive brand, looks like they only made a small run of this model. I wonder—.”

James looked like he might just pounce over his desk. “I have a friend in Burglary. Investigates jewelry thefts all the time so she knows some people. I can have her take a look if you want.”

“Thanks,” Jane and Garrus said together. Nihlus still wasn't reaching out to James for help, then. Stubborn bastard.

Garrus sent James the files. That yawn finally escaped, and Garrus decided a little liquid boost was necessary. “Need a coffee?” he asked Jane.

“ Please .”

In the hallway between the lounge and Homicide, with two coffees in hand, Garrus had the unfortunate luck to run into Pallin. His misfortune compounded when Pallin stopped and clasped his hands at his back.

Crap. Garrus stopped too.

“I expect the debrief with yourself and Shepard this afternoon.”

“Sir,” Garrus said with a nod.

“I can’t be the only one who’s noticed her perpetually empty desk chair. Employee Relations confirms its a sign of dwindling work ethic, or emotional fatigue, in humans.”

Garrus’s mouth opened to spin the accusation in a positive direction, but Pallin stopped him with a threatening look.

“Is this going to be a persistent concern, or is it a temporary matter?”

“We’re both worn out, sir. The cases—”

Pallin’s shoulders stiffened. “You get the workload you can handle. Others envy your cases.”

“Of course, but last month the mom, the month before that the duct kid…”

Pallin blinked. He was a force as immovable as Nihlus, a steadfast tree in a gust of wind. Not one Garrus admired, though, one he wanted to shake.

The cool condescension in Pallin’s eye was easy for Garrus to catch — he’d been on the receiving end of those gazes most of his life — and yet it still stung when Pallin said, “I’ve never met another turian with as many opinions as you.”

Garrus considered a handful of things to say. Most would get him a severe reprimand. One would be an instant write-up that he probably wouldn’t regret.

He nearly gave a sincere ‘thank you’, which would piss off Pallin more than anything else. But with Jane’s voice in his head telling him to watch his temper, he held his mandibles tight long enough for Pallin to lose interest. Pallin proceeded down the hallway.

“Be proud of your cases, Vakarian,” he said, already several strides down the hall, tapping at his omni-tool. “Your father always was.”

Yeah, the write-up would have been worth it.

Just before Pallin turned a corner, a face familiar from photos in Pallin’s office appeared on his omni-tool. Pallin explained with a stony tone, “I’ll be home late, amar. Again.”

His bondmate’s face fell, only for a moment though, before he smiled sadly and promised to wait up for Pallin.

Growing up, Garrus had witnessed countless similar exchanges. His father’s clipped voice. His mother’s sad smiles. When he was especially young, he’d slink to his room, draw pictures of her smiling, then present them to her hoping to conjure up a real smile. He always did.

Before getting coffee Garrus didn’t have a thought in his head besides work. Returning, he was pissed at Pallin for giving Jane a hard time, and thinking about his mom again.

Garrus lowered himself into his chair, so calmly, so quietly, that it caught Nihlus’s attention. Garrus ignored him, focusing on Jane’s empty chair while poking her coffee across his desk to hers with a pointed, stiff finger, the paper cup rasping against metal until he lifted his finger. Sitting back in his chair, he took a steady breath.

Back to the case. Garrus propped his clenched jaw on his too-tight fist. The timeline map was made, James was helping with the watch. Time to circle back to statements and conduct follow-up interviews. Charles Udina first, probably. He’d see what Jane thought, though.

Nihlus swiveled to face Garrus, his arms spread wide atop his armrests. “Maybe someone else can take James. He’s doing great with the work you and Jane gave him, but I don’t need the help.”

“Where’s Jane?”

“I don’t know. Chellick was being a nosy bastard, hovering around. She left and took James with her.”

Garrus looked down at his omni-tool, checking to make sure he hadn’t missed a message from her. None.

Garrus’s rifle case landed on his desk, and Jane’s hand landed on his shoulder giving him a gentle squeeze.

“I thought you might want to go to the range for a little break,” she said. “James came along to see where the lockers are.”

When he looked up at her, there was a gentle concern in her expression that woke him up to the simmering subvocal grating in his lower throat.

🔪🔪🔪

Under Jane’s relaxed hand sat Garrus’s tense shoulder, his muscles thundering from a subvocal she couldn't hear. His mom’s health and the boggish tension between him and his father were the obvious agitators, but she suspected that Pallin, who stood across the room delivering a sharp stare, was somehow involved as well.

She gave Garrus’s shoulder a squeeze, and the tremor in his muscles subsided. “Ready?”

He gave a crisp nod.

“Hey,” Nihlus said, “before you go. It’s your anniversary.”

Jane slipped her hand from Garrus’s shoulder.

“What?” she and Garrus asked together.

“You two started five years ago. We’ll go out, have some drinks. Flux.”

Garrus shook his head. “Not Flux.”

“What’s wrong with Flux?” James asked, looking back and forth between Garrus and Nihlus.

“It doesn’t exactly match my energy anymore,” Garrus said.

It didn’t really match Jane’s anymore either. The pumping music. The wall-to-wall people with thick, desperate energy. All the pickup attempts that now gave her second-hand embarrassment even though they used to work on her too.

But, maybe new scenery and dancing would be good for Garrus.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad.” Jane squeezed his shoulder again, and that was all it took to get a yes out of him.

Nihlus invited James along too — because even if he didn't want help at work, he’d never make James feel unwelcome. Socially, at least.

Plans set, Jane and Garrus left Homicide, Garrus one stride behind her. Just outside the door, Officer Regitus, the sour-faced turian who never liked Jane, passed by. Jane halted and Garrus stopped at Jane’s back, his body pressing against hers, nearly nudging her out the door.

“Oh hey Regitus,” Jane said. “Helping someone with a case?”

As Jane waited for Regitus to respond, hopefully in a friendly manner for a change, Garrus’s hand pressed to the base of her spine, pushing her forward. She ground in though, and his sigh did nothing to dampen her determination.

Regitus's eyes hovered on Garrus, avoiding Jane without pretense. “Yes,” was all she said.

“Ever thought of working in Homicide?” Jane asked, really rolling out the friendly tone. “You spend a lot of time up here.”

Regitus finally looked down at Jane, and her derisive glare had never been more intense. “Being an officer suits me. We turians are good at knowing our place.”

After that nice little comment, Regitus disappeared through the doorway.

Scowling, Jane craned her neck to look up at Garrus, who was now pushing her down the hall. “What the fuck did that mean?”

Garrus just kept pushing. “Why do you let her get to you?”

“She’s not like that with other humans, I’ve seen her interacting with them all friendly and normal. I’m going to be so fucking nice to her she’ll snap, and then I’ll find out why she hates me.”

“You are the only person I’ve ever known who gets nicer to people that don’t like them.” He caught her elbow, because she’d missed the elevator in her irritation, and he pulled her inside. “Just stop talking to her, unless you have to.”

While Jane envisioned saying something that would wipe that smug smile from Regitus’s face, the elevator doors slipped shut and they descended to the range.

Once down in the pit of C-Sec, tucked in a quiet corner far from the shots cracking off in the distance, Garrus eased into a practiced rhythm. His shoulders relaxed, and his hips loosed into their usual sway. He popped the cases open, lifted their rifles with steady hands, and set them down on a workbench. He rolled up his sleeves, tucking the fabric over, and over, inching upwards until his tailored dress shirt no longer hindered his solid forearms, and got to work setting their rifles up.

Jane watched him, calmed as always by his easy rhythm, and caught herself lingering on his forearms. Watched the sinuous muscles flex. Watched the two firm diamond-shaped hide patches between his hand and his elbow shift, his wrists bend, tendons bulge.

They were the type of forearms that reached out to grasp opponents on the sparring mats and pinned them down, helpless to wiggle free by even an inch. They were also the type of forearms that would make your knees weak, and would pull you in for a breathtaking embrace.

Hold you tight as they pinned you against a glass wall and—

For a split second Jane felt guilty for fantasizing. Then she remembered what he’d said last night: There are guys out there who want more with you . Why would he say that if he didn’t have a particular person in mind? If that person was him, if he’d been hiding his feelings like she was, but somehow let those words slip through, she had to know.

His long, elegant fingers slid the barrel out, then twisted and locked the scope into place. The rifle in his hands was hers. He’d given it to her a few years ago, a birthday present, and when she opened the case he told her she deserved her own rifle that reflected who she was — power and refinement all wrapped up in a small package.

Whenever he shared those little glimpses of how he saw her, something would beat deep within her rib cage, and she understood his esteem because she’d felt the same way about him almost immediately.

On her first day with C-Sec, stepping through the doors into Homicide, her eyes had somehow landed directly on him. Sitting at his desk, comfortably relaxed against the back of his chair, leaning to the side with his forearm resting on the chair’s arm. Maybe his broad shoulders, muscular chest, and the sharp cut down to his tapered waist made him stand out. Despite the casual lean, the tension bristling beneath his perfectly cut suit was easy to see. He had sharp eyes that she expected to flick from one stimulus to the next, but instead, they lingered, patiently letting information filter in. He was scrupulous, and more handsome than anyone had any right to be, especially someone so uptight.

When she’d reached out to introduce herself by tapping her wrist to his, he seemed surprised at first, and almost intimidated — by her, a 5’8” human. Then Nihlus, standing next to him, had said something charming and funny, and Garrus smiled, and she saw a sweetness in him that proved to be too deeply buried. With time it had risen to the surface, though.

Jane had always believed her feelings for Garrus took root the night he came to see her in the hospital, the moment he took her hand as she laid in her stiff bed. She’d been restless, like a leaf that can’t settle in the wind, but his touch held her still, tenderly anchoring her until she fell asleep.

That’s what she couldn’t tell Garrus as they’d sat on the bench earlier that day. Leaving Earth and her family had uprooted her from everything safe and known, but meeting him that very first day had given her something she never would have found on Earth: he was a beginning, the solid knot within her sternum, the one that grew with every laugh they shared, every confident smile he gave her, every trial they had endured together. He was inside her, a piece of her.

“What?” Garrus asked, now working on his own, much larger, rifle.

“What?” The defensive note in her voice wasn’t smooth at all.

He gave her a confused glance.

“Nothing.” She kneaded her lips. “ What ?”

“You’ve just been staring at me.”

“So.”

He turned to her, his head tilted, a silent accusation that she was acting weird. Well, she was. God, how did he not pick up on the clear signals, the blaring signals, that she adored him, and harbored far too many pulse-quickening thoughts about his body and his voice and the way he smelled, so, so good.

“Take a day off?” Garrus snapped a heat sink into her rifle. “Even if it’s just to work from home.”

His attention flicked to her eyes, and she immediately felt self-conscious about how tired they must look.

“I’m fine. I slept better last night than I have been.”

“I don’t like that humans can lie so easily.”

His mandible ticked, not upset, not disapproving, just uncomfortable; his turian soul always wanted the truth.

And it was a lie. In the middle of the night she’d woken from a nightmare, and it wasn’t the content of her dream that she’d thought of first, but the fact that Garrus wasn’t lying next to her. He shouldn't have been, of course, because the clock on her nightstand read two a.m. and she was in her bed and he’d gone home hours earlier. Still, his arm hadn’t been pressing against her cheek, and his warm scent hadn’t lured her from sleep, and even though that was right, it felt wrong.

Maybe — hopefully — he’d like the truth she had to give him.

But she hadn’t brought him down to the depths of C-Sec headquarters to dwell on her feelings for him, or talk about her sleeping habits.

There was something more important hanging in the air. He didn’t want to think about Val, let alone talk about it. He loved his mom, dearly. Avoiding the thought of losing her was his only defense against that pain, but Jane still wanted to help him lower his walls. “I’m not the only one who needs to take care of myself, you know,” she said gently.

He nodded, popping a heat sink into his rifle. “I know.”

“We’re both dealing with a lot. You more than me, really.”

He only nodded again, but his shoulders didn’t tighten, and his spine didn’t harden. His walls weren’t up, so she kept nudging.

“Did you run into Pallin before we came down here?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he give you shit because I wasn’t at my desk?”

“He’s a prick.”

“Did he slide in a snide comment about your dad’s impeccable work ethic?”

With a note of bitterness Garrus gave a quick, soft laugh.

“Will you finally let me punch him for you?”

His laugh grew, bitterness gone. “And I’m the unhinged one?”

“Well,” she smirked. “I only offer to punch people for you as a joke. I’m pretty sure you’d make someone disappear if you felt compelled enough.”

He hummed casually, not denying it, though she didn’t expect him to. “Thankfully I’m a few life-altering crises away from falling into a vigilante lifestyle.”

Garrus continued his work and quiet fell between them. She gave him space after the questions. Gunfire cracked on the other side of the range as she watched his steady breaths swell within his chest, then fall.

“You can’t punch away the problems on my mind,” he eventually said. “I need to bolster up, and use my words.”

Pain settled in his eyes, his spine went rigid, and of course she hated poking at his wounds, but they were so close.

So, she nudged just once more. “You’ll ask Mordin, then? About the treatment?”

He nodded, and with a precise pivot in his fingers seated his scope. “Yeah. I just need to get my mind ready for it.”

She moved closer to him, a step behind his back. “What can I do to help? Want me to be there?”

“Do you think it’s too much to ask him? We’re not really close, and I don’t want to—”

“It’s not too much,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’d like you to be there. I’ll invite him for coffee or something, before you leave.” His voice softened with appreciation. “Thanks, Jane.”

With those words, the grip on her heart released, and she brushed a comforting touch down Garrus’s back. “Of course, I’ll be right by your side.”

He handed her rifle over, popped a heat sink in his, and they stepped over to their lanes. They looked at each other, shared a warm smile, then focused on their targets.

Garrus raised his rifle to his shoulder, cocked his head to peer into the scope, and his shoulders lifted a subtle inch. With his rifle in his hands, the calm working rhythm in his body shifted to a ridgid, focused stillness.

“All right,” he drawled, and she could already hear the mischief in his voice that made the back of her neck tense. “We need to talk about your performance.” As she filled with mild indignation, because how dare he, he lowered his rifle an inch to crack a smirk at her. “I know you can do better. Loser has to pick up the winner’s tab at Flux.”

“You know I can’t beat you. No need to rub it in with games and financial consequences.”

“So cheat.”

She scoffed, because you can’t cheat at shooting, and they raised their rifles to their shoulders, aimed at the targets 1,400 long meters down-lane, and fired shots. They both looked up at the monitors zeroed in on their targets – his shot hit dead on, hers just slightly left of center..

The satisfaction in his smile was truly unnecessary; he knew he’d win this damn contest. It wasn’t even a contest!

Staring down the lane at nothing in particular — she just didn’t want to see his damned gloating face — she huffed. “I’m going to get lessons or something, and shock the shit out of you one of these days.”

“Considering I’m the best sniper on this station,” a quick glance at the monitor told her he hit his target dead-on once again, “you’d have to get lessons from me. And while I may have taught you how to shoot, I won’t teach you how to outshoot me.”

“Well, I know the person who taught you.” She peered at him over her rifle. “How about I get lessons from your dad?”

Garrus stood to his full, stunning height, his sharp eyes narrowing in on her. He set the safety on his rifle with a slide of his finger and a soft click, then set it to the ground. Shoulders round and wide, muscles tight, Garrus crept towards her. Calm. Controlled. Not an inch of movement wasted. A stance that promised chase, and made her heart punch against her ribs, not from fear but thrill. She slid her tense finger over the safety setting, and lowered her rifle to the ground as well.

One more step towards her, he said through an amused grin, “Take that back.”

Only a stride away, head cocked, he stood stone-still and a heat settled in his gaze, not anger, but something that sent flames licking up her spine, made her imagine that every single synapse firing in his brain was dedicated to her, sparks of Jane, Jane bursting at rapid pace. At that moment, all of him — his mind, muscles, his beating heart, belonged to her.

If her teasing threat elicited that searing gaze, she’d never take back her words. She’d say them again. She’d say more. More teasing, more heat, more flames licking her bones.

“I’m calling him right now. He’ll fucking love it.” Keeping her eye on Garrus, she lifted a hand to her omni-tool.

Before she could press her finger to a key, Garrus was behind her with breath-taking swiftness, his chest pressed to her back, long arms wrapped around her entire torso, pulling her in tight against him and holding her still — firm but gentle, not permitting her an inch to wiggle free.

”You’re such a brat.” His breath hissed against her ear.

Jane breathed in and out, in and out, their bodies pressing closer with every inhalation. She tried to ignore the tensing in her thighs, the singing in her skin, but, like a lightning flash, she thought flirt with him. Now.

Seconds passed by until Jane realized his hold on her wasn’t tight enough to pin her arms, so she reached for her omni-tool again, and giggled loudly when he wrapped a hand around her wrist, guiding her arm upwards before her finger made contact. She rolled her wrist from his grip, tried again, and once again found her wrist in his hand. She huffed, brought her wrist close to her stomach, giggled again when his fingers slid over her stomach and caught her once more.

He caught her every attempt, but she twisted or rolled from his grasp each time. They both huffed and giggled. He missed this as much as she did, she heard in his laughter, felt it in the way he held her.

“Spirits, you’re quick, and too flexible.” His mouth was so close, his voice licked at her ears.

“And yet you always win with that damned reach,” she huffed, gritting her teeth. He was quickly wearing her down, but he didn’t have her fully pinned yet.

His chuckle rippled against her tiring shoulders. “Don’t forget my superior strength.”

God, how could she, with his arms holding her still and firm against his body. His tense forearms flexed under her palms. Those beautiful, masculine forearms. She wanted so badly to brush her hands over them, just to feel her skin glide over his skin and muscle, then remembered her lightning-crack decision to flirt with him.

She rested her head back against his chest and looked up at him — god, he was so tall. With a honeyed voice she said, “Sorry, wasn’t trying to make you jealous.” Looking straight into his indigo eyes she added, “I’m all yours.”

The subvocal in his throat cracked and danced, and the fact that it seemed to surprise him, excited her.

The thick subvocal rolled out, leaving a silent, energy-laden stillness between them. Static-tension simmered in the inches where their bodies met. In the void where their bodies didn’t meet, there was a magnetic-like force, a pull of want for more between his skin and hers. She felt it all, knew he did too.

He smiled down at her, cautious but still warm, his eyes lingering so heavily that she’d have sold her soul to know his thoughts. He released her, though, and moved back over to his lane. Bending over, his hand slid down the barrel on his rifle, then lifted it with a tense grip.

“Afraid I’ll get as good as you?” she teased, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face with a puff of air.

His eyes fell on her hair, her mouth, then darted to his rifle.

He rolled his shoulders, then gave a labored smirk. “Smack talking won’t improve your aim, Jane.”

“No, but it might throw yours off.”

A cocky laugh rippled out of him, so patronizing that she’d do just about anything to make him miss his target, even by a thread’s width. Nothing ever caused him to miss, though, not stress, and not distractions. His focus seemed impenetrable. Once, the fire alarms went off, and instead of leaving immediately with everyone else, Garrus took the time to line up one more shot. Which landed perfectly.

“Gonna tell me what’s got you stuck on the autopsy, and the injuries?” he asked, taking an unusual amount of time to line up his scope.

Jane straightened her shirt, and tucked her ruffled hair behind her ear. “Sure, I’ve just been thinking. The damage was extensive, but it could have been so much worse.”

“He was beat to shit, Jane.” His finger released from the trigger and he landed another perfect shot.

She popped the safety on her rifle before hefting it back on her shoulder and letting the weight settle.

“Yeah, I’m saying there was a lot of blunt force trauma, but Mordin mentioned specifically in the notes, and he confirmed it when I went to see him yesterday, that the force was fairly minor, comparatively. It was obvious when I looked at the images, too. High quantity, low severity.”

“So what are you thinking?” he asked, landing three perfect shots in a row. The center was shredded, and a new target popped up automatically. Jane had never received a fresh target.

“It was like the murderer had never really hurt someone before. Like maybe they were testing what they could do...or it was half-hearted for some reason.”

Garrus hummed. “It makes sense that they’re inexperienced. Or that they were just fucking with him. Mordin’s assistant said the biotics used were low level. Maybe young, then, but a human his age with biotics would certainly be at Grissom by now.”

“True. It just seemed...I don’t think it was some thug, or someone who’s hurt a kid before. That wasn’t work by someone experienced with violence. Or...It made me think of a cat playing with a mouse.”

“I’m missing some cultural context here.”

“Sometimes cats will catch a mouse, but they won’t kill it immediately. They’ll just bat it around, slowly exhaust it. The cat puts almost no effort into it. They won’t let the mouse escape, but they aren’t really interested in killing and eating it, either. They’re just bored...” She paused, trying to work past the image of Adam’s injuries, and focus on her point. “Or maybe they get a thrill out of watching the poor, defenseless little creature struggle.”

“What happens to the mouse?”

“I think they usually die anyway, exhausted and battered. Their little bodies just can’t take it.”

“Well damn. I had no idea Rocket was capable of that.”

“Yeah, cats aren’t just soft and cuddly. My read on the injuries is just something to keep in mind, but it might help us later down the road.”

Garrus nodded and lined up his next shot. “Why have cats for pets, then? If they’re so dangerous.”

Jane could still feel Garrus’s arms encaging her, his talons pressing into her skin, her thumping heart.

“Well, cats are a lot like your kind. They’re predators with sharp claws, vicious fangs, and devastating instincts,” she held back, waiting for him to just slightly press down on the trigger, “but, most importantly, they’re very nice to cuddle with.”

His shot landed a sliver off, but to his ego it might as well have been a mile.

“Ouch, terrible shot. What happened there?”

His brilliant blue eyes narrowed on her before he turned back to his target. He rolled his neck again, his chin tilting side-to-side, his long neck muscles stretching.

“Also I’m pretty sure if left outside, turians and cats would both bring home something dead and leave it on my porch.”

“Bringing home a nice steak is a sign of love.”

“You’re only proving my point, and I love steak.”

“Say that to a turian and they’ll think you’re flirting.”

She grinned at him, and winked.

And got nothing in return, to a clearly flirtatious body signal. But her certainty that there was something happening between them didn’t diminish. How in the hell was she supposed to test out the waters, though, without diving all in?

He tapped his finger to the trigger —one, two, three times — but didn’t shoot.

“You know,” he said. “Ancient turians kept a spike outside their front door. After a hunt they'd bring back their prey and prop it on the spike, so everyone in the village could see how well they provide for their mate. ”

“Romantics, all of you. And incredibly sexy.”

He pulled the trigger, missed the center again, and nothing could have thrilled Jane more. Garrus missed his target, because of her , multiple times. When he was interested in someone his flirting skills diminished by a shocking degree and he’d say the most adorably odd things. A history lesson on ancient turian mating was the epitome of adorably odd.

“Has the galaxy stopped spinning?” she said with a smirk. “Never thought anything could distract you this much.”

His mandibles jittered. “You haven’t landed a center hit once. I’m still winning.”

Winning was always so damned important to him, and she always thought it was just pure competitiveness, because she had that bug too. But, looking at him, all tense and focused, she considered that maybe it was something that ran deeper. A penchant for power, control, maybe even a hint of domineering nature. He always had to be on top.

He’d held her wrist so tenderly the other night. The thought of him holding her chin just as tenderly, saying to her deeply, softly, good girl, nearly made her knees buckle.

“You know,” she said, “if you taught me how to shoot as well as you, I could do better, just like you want.” She lowered her voice, fixing it to a breathy, warm roll. “I can make you proud of me.”

He cleared his throat just as a strained ripple started up. He popped the safety on his rifle, lowered it, and for a second she thought he was going to pounce on her again because he looked so damned tense, but he took a long drink from a bottle instead. His head tilted back, throat muscles bobbing. He drank and drank, like a man dying of thirst.

“Garrus?”

He propped his hand against the wall and seemed to lose a slight but impactful tilt of his equilibrium. “Hm?”

“Thirsty?” she asked. Flirtation no longer warmed her voice. She was too stunned, too exuberant, to not let the thrill flare through her entire body and out to the very tips of her tingly fingers. The missed shots. The throaty subvocal he just suppressed. She flirted with him, and he picked up on it, and he was thirsty .

Most thrilling of all, she read no discomfort from him, only sizzling tension, only palpable excitement. He also looked a bit stunned, though, and he wasn’t flirting back, so she gave him a moment.

He set the now half-empty bottle down and busied himself checking settings on his rifle, straightening his collar, then looked up at the monitor and hoisted his rifle back on his shoulder. He only aimed, though, didn’t shoot. “Your turn,” his voice was controlled, but smokey, and so, so warm.

They were going to Flux after work. There would be drinking, and dancing, and maybe if she flirted with Garrus again, he’d actually flirt back.

Filled with confidence, she raised her rifle to her shoulder and took aim. She let out a half breath, like Garrus taught her, because she was a good girl, and pulled the trigger. Her slug landed just a bit too high, only grazing the center dot, not dead on, but it was a damn good shot, considering she picked up a sniper rifle for the first time only a few years prior.

“It’s ok, Jane,” his gorgeous, knee-weakening voice hummed, “I’ll pick up your tab.”

Instead of aiming at his own target, he aimed at hers, looking perfectly confident and smug. Before her jaw fully dropped Garrus landed the first dead-center shot on her target. A soft, satisfied chuckle rippled from his chest, licking up her spine. How could she want so desperately to smack him and kiss him at the same time? Considering how stunned he’d be, maybe she’d just kiss him. Maybe he’d let her, and like it.

“Garrus , why in the hell do you always have to be on top?”

“Because the view is nice up here. Maybe someday you’ll get to see it for yourself.”

“Oh fuck off, cocky bastard,” she huffed, but she laughed, and he laughed too.

After all of her brazen flirting, all the sudden and surprising tension between them, they slipped back into their familiar rhythm. Jane and Garrus. Best friends. Instead of taking away from the excitement of flirting with him, though it only stoked her thrill. Best friends, but maybe more. She didn’t even take the time to question what more could be, all she knew was it excited her, and she wanted it so very, very badly.

Her eyes on Garrus’s easy smile, the halo of hope hovering over the knot in Jane’s sternum swelled into a blaze.

## Sensory Gratification

Chapter Summary

> Garrus gets groped at a bar

Chapter Notes

> Song I had on loop: I’m God, Clams Casino and Imogen Heap

> Quick heads up that I'll probably be changing the title of this fic and of The Quarian, because I've never really liked them. So, next time I post a chapter it could have a new title.

> And thanks to my writing buddy, DiaphanousO, for her support and advice!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The wrestling was…

A mistake.

But little slip-ups were bound to happen. Jane was so ingrained in his heart, and their friendship was unique, just like she said. That made getting over her harder, but not impossible. Now at least he knew where the line was. Hugs and hand-holds were okay. Holding Jane’s quick, soft, sweet-spicy smelling little body flush to his and trying to hold her still, feeling her muscles flex and her ribs expand within his arms, her warm huffs heating his skin. It all just felt too good.

And the things she said, spirits see him. I’m all yours. Make you proud of me. It was like she said those things on purpose to turn him on.

That was the boundary. And knowing your boundary was good. So, ultimately, the wrestling was a good thing. Information to be assessed. Adjustments to be made.

It had been confusing — jolting, actually — but good.

Nihlus’s sharp gaze reaching across the table caught Garrus’s attention, blurred images of things he’d been staring at but hadn’t seen — chattering people, lights beaming over the dancefloor, packed tables and a busy bar — settled. Flux’s thumping music and the hum of a hundred voices erupted as if someone flicked a switch.

“What’s going on in your head right now?” Nihlus asked, choosing to raise his voice instead of leaning in closer.

“Nothing,” Garrus said, leaning into the table, taking the drink he didn’t even order; Nihlus had ordered it for him because he couldn’t decide, and when he finally did, he hadn’t been able to get the words out.

“Something happened down in the range. You’ve looked like you hit your head ever since.”

“If I had, you’d feel like an ass right now.”

“Sure.” Nihlus grinned. “But you didn't. I’m guessing there’s something going on with your head, but it’s not physical.

Oh, it was physical. Garrus shifted, trying to ignore the ache deep behind his seam. The tightness in his throat. The way his skin sizzled, like his cells were begging for friction.

Scanning the club, Nihlus’s eyes landed on the dancefloor, where James was using his hips like an effective weapon on some guy.

“I miss T'Saris,” Nihlus said.

“Because you two never had to rely on each other much?”

“Yes, it was perfect.” Nihlus smiled at a board-shouldered turian passing by, his biggest weakness. Give one a gun and Nihlus was fucked. They were fucked too, shortly after.

“You got the human partner because you’re friends with me and Jane.” Garrus paused until Nihlus’s wandering eyes landed back on him. “I’m sure Pallin thinks that some of my good luck will rub off on you. Or...now this one’s a stretch, but hear me out, maybe you’ll learn something from me and Jane. Like how to work as a team.”

“Seems like he’s good with people,” he flicked his chin towards James. “Let him do the talking next time you go out.”

Nihlus nodded as Kasumi slid into the booth next to him, wrapping one hand around his bicep and the other around his wrist, folding her legs underneath her, and whispering something into his ear that made him smile; not his usual sly, amused smile, just warm and adoring.

“I dragged your girl out of the office.” Kasumi snapped a salute at Garrus. “You’re welcome.”

Garrus looked up to Jane standing by his side, unbuttoning her pressed work shirt, sliding it from her shoulders, and adjusting the tank she wore underneath. She threw the shirt across the back of the booth, smiling at him as she sat down so close to him that he felt the heat of her skin.

“Hey,” she said, with soft, radiant energy.

“Hey,” he said back.

🔪🔪🔪

You’d never know that Nihlus and Kasumi weren’t actually a couple, the way she held onto him, the way he brushed her wrist and inner elbow with his fingertip. The way they saved their warmest smiles and softest laughs for each other.

Jane only allowed herself a second of envy before she shaped it into admiration. Sitting beside her, Garrus had that look on his face again, like he was turning towards sunshine.

Jane thought of making her breasts swell with an inhalation, but Garrus probably wasn’t into that so it wouldn't register that she wanted him to look at her. She thought of pouting her lips, but he probably wasn’t into those either. He played with her hair often. Would it get him going if she played with her hair? Seducing human guys was easy, but with Garrus it was like trying to feel her way through a dark room.

“Turn off your translator!” an excited voice barked from behind them.

Jane and Garrus turned to see a turian and a human turning off the translator app on their omni-tools, then look up at each other. The turian spoke first and the human’s face erupted in surprise. “Oh my god, you sound so—”

Jane, with joy bubbling up into her chest, turned back to Garrus. “Do you remember the first time we did that?”

His voice, the one she heard every day, was warm and beautifully rich. But when he spoke his own language, the ripples of every syllable seeped into her veins. A few months into their partnership they got curious and turned off their translators. Garrus had only spoken a few words before Jane nervously giggled because she hadn’t expected his voice to reach straight into her gut, or that she’d feel so compelled to let him pin her down and fuck her. Right on the desks, in front of everyone, whispering words she didn’t even understand into her ear with that luscious, thrumming voice. Her giggles had sounded crazy.

“Yeah, I remember how you laughed at me,” Garrus said, tapping his curved knuckle to her arm. “Made me feel less guilty about telling Mordin you smelled weird.”

Touch. That’s what Garrus liked. His hands were always on her, maybe if she got bold enough to put her hands on him…

Jane laid her hand on his forearm and gave the taut muscle the faintest squeeze. “You know I wasn’t making fun of you, I was just surprised. Palaveni is beautiful.”

“Mm.” Garrus rolled up his sleeves, hopefully an invitation to keep touching him.

“I should learn Palaveni,” Jane said. “I know it’s hard to replicate the rumbles, but learning would be fun. Then I’d be able to hear your voice without translators. And you’d be able to hear mine.”

Even though Garrus didn’t say anything, his mandibles flicked, like he was trying to hold in a wide smile.

“That’s the hardest part, the vocal timbre,” Nihlus said. “Palaveni is fairly straightforward. English is difficult structurally speaking, and it’s hard to level out your voice. It’s like straightening a river over a rocky stream bed. A challenge, but not impossible.”

Kasumi took Nihlus’s hand, folding her fingers into his. “Nihlus’s vowels always ripple and warble. I’m terrible at correcting him because it’s so sweet.”

“You guys are learning each other’s language together?” The tone in Jane’s voice was mostly admiration, and just a hint of a huff. Not that she wasn’t happy for them, it was just so damned adorable.

“It’s fun,” Kasumi said. “We practice together on Saturday nights.”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “If Nihlus can learn English, I can.”

Was Garrus as excited as her by the idea of learning English and Palaveni together? Was he imagining them sitting down together, helping each other shape foreign words with thick tongues and flexing lips? Or, was his competitive nature triggered by Nihlus talking so confidently about it?

Either way, Jane was beaming.

A second round of drinks later, Kasumi unwrapped herself from Nihlus’s hold and leaned across the table. “Come on, Garrus, you look like you need to loosen up a bit.” She took his hand, and before he could think of an excuse —Jane saw in his face that he was quickly trying to — pulled him up from the booth, dragging him away.

Jane sipped at her whiskey, watching Garrus step on the dancefloor, easily falling into a rhythm of hips and smiles with Kasumi.

“Wanna go dance?” Nihlus asked Jane with a smirk.

“So you can make fun of my arms?”

“Not your arms so much as the way they flail above your head like an orgasming hanar. All you need is someone to pin your wrists behind your back, and you’d be an excellent dancer.”

“Always looking for a reason to pin someone,” Jane said with humor.

Nihlus winked at her, and she laughed.

After another sip, Jane recalled Regitus’s sour face and looked up at Nihlus. Why she had never asked him about the asshole turian with a grudge against her, she didn't know.

“Do you know why Regitus hates me? And don’t joke like Garrus, I know that she does.”

Nihlus didn’t answer her, but his silence, the way he carefully rolled his horosk with a turn of his wrist, and the tightening look in his eyes, was clear.

Yes.

“Does Garrus?”

Nihlus’s gaze left her to focus on his drink. He was thinking. Again, the answer was clear.

Yes.

And that wound around her gut.

“Well why wouldn't he just tell me then?”

He shook his head, and despite his trademark calm demeanor, it looked like a dozen thoughts were running through his head. “Ask yourself,” he eventually said, one mandible flicking then drawing in as tight as the other, “why does he joke instead of just telling you?”

“Don’t play games, Nihlus. I’m…it’s not funny anymore.”

He shook his head, looking trapped. “You’d get a lot closer to the answer you’re after if you asked Garrus.”

She glared at him, because she’d asked Garrus, and he’d successfully dodged her questions over and over. Nihlus knew that, too, because after his eyes tightened briefly, he said, “Fine. Regitus hates you because she’s jealous.”

“That I'm his partner?”

“Spirits.” He growled, so frustrated that it caught Jane off guard, until what he said next caught her even more off guard. “No. She wants to fuck Garrus, and he’s turned her down, many times.”

Jane’s lungs turned to lead. She opened her mouth to let out nothing but a wash of air, not a single word to share.

Nihlus continued, “She sees him holding on to you while walking down halls, leaning into you in elevators, whispering into your ear in the lounge, laughing with you during training exercises. Not that she has any right to be jealous, but she sees reason to be. This beautiful, intelligent, feisty human has what she wants.”

Nihlus waited, as if expecting Jane to say something, expecting her to reach a conclusion that he was dangling right in front of her.

Then he said slowly, like a hawk watching for subtle movement on the ground, “His attention.”

That sounded more like a challenge, not an answer, like he’d told her a lie and wanted to be called out.

Jane drummed her fingers against the cool metal table-top, and nodded even though she still felt confused. “Why wouldn't Garrus just tell me that? That she wants… his attention.”

He shook his head. “I’ve already said enough to get another cracked arm plate. Talk to Garrus.”

Jane ran her finger around the rim of her glass, trying and failing not to imagine Regitus’s sour face flirting with Garrus. Imagining Garrus getting lonely enough one night to…

“Don’t let her upset you. She’s a small woman empty of spirit.”

Jane nodded. It wasn’t Regitus’s spirit that Jane worried about, but her wide hips and sultry walk; and the fact that Garrus was attracted to turians, not humans.

Maybe not humans.

“Come on,” Nihlus said, his voice soothing, his eyes carefully hiding the concern she could tell was there, “let's dance.”

She shook her head. The pumping music that was somehow out-pacing her quick pulse fell to a soft, sultry rhythm. She willed her heart-rate to slow along with it.

“What happened down in the shooting range?” Nihlus asked.

“Why?”

“He’s looked like something knocked him off kilter all afternoon.”

Over Nihlus’s shoulder, Jane caught Garrus making his way back towards their table, his fringe a head above everyone else, hips swinging. His eyes on her, his mandibles relaxed into a soft smile. Anger, affection, frustration all battled beneath her ribs.

“I’m feeling a bit off-kilter myself right now,” she said.

“Well, maybe you two can balance out together,” he said as Garrus slid into the booth beside her with an oblivious grin on his handsome face.

“Excuse me,” Nihlus said, setting his drink down and rising from his seat. His focus was on Kasumi, dancing by herself. “I’m going to go dance with a beautiful woman.”

Garrus hovered just at the edge of her, warm from dancing, and so incredibly close. She wanted to be mad at him, she was mad at him, but she just couldn’t accuse him of hiding something from her, not after he’d had such a hard day, and not when he looked so happy sitting next to her.

Five damned years, her affection just knotting up inside her.

Maybe Garrus had kept the truth from Jane for an obvious and simple reason: Registus was jealous because Garrus wanted Jane, just as much as she wanted him.

Jane kneaded at her lips, and couldn’t stop. Flirting at the range came so easily, so naturally, but trying to tease out his feelings wasn’t at all. Trying to figure out what to say to Garrus, Jane stared across the club at nothing.

No, not nothing. A group of guys, human, sat at a booth and she was staring right at them. One of them waved, shooting her a seductive grin. Poor guy had no sharp teeth behind those plush lips, and no chance. She grabbed Kasumi’s drink and doused her embarrassment with a gulp until it was empty. When she stole a peek at them, one elbowed the sheepish waver and the group chuckled.

Stupid desperate club atmosphere.

Jane scooted closer to Garrus. She looked up at him. He looked down at her.

“Using me to get rid of those guys?” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was amused, or wary, or both. His arm settled on the bench behind her; she could almost feel it resting on her shoulders.

“Maybe.” She searched his eyes for the slightest indication that he wanted her closer, looking at him and not at them. “Is that okay?”

“Whole group of guys making eyes at you, should feel good.”

“I don’t want to date any of them, you know that.” She lifted her shoulders, brushing them against his arm.

“Why not, though?” he asked, eyes flicking to the group of guys. “You said you’re lonely, you liked that Spectre’s attention.” He swallowed, looking like he was going to regret what he was about to say. “Don’t you ever want to fall in love?”

“Not with any of them.”

“Ever consider that maybe you’re aromantic? You’ve never been in love, and I’ve never seen you in a relationship since you moved here, actually.”

She couldn't look him in the eye, and hated the fear inside her. “No, I definitely have romantic feelings for others.” She forced herself to look at him, forced her meaningful gaze to settle into his beautiful indigo eyes. “Pretty strong, even.”

“Why don’t you want to date, then?” he asked.

“Why don’t you want to date?”

That reply was straight-up dumb; a product of high emotions and buzzing nerves. It felt like he was forcing a hand she wasn’t ready to play.

With a mild air of affront that made her regret her words, he said, “Pretty weak diversion tactic, for you at least. And defensive. Offensive, actually, bringing me into it.”

This was so hard, but it had to be harder for him. Jane could only imagine the hurt and fear still sitting inside him after Cama.

Thinking with her heart and not her head, Jane said, “You’re wonderful, Garrus. There’s someone out there who wants to make you happy, if you want them.”

He said nothing, leaving her to only wonder if he picked up on the message.

Garrus shifted and glanced around the club. “Let’s talk about something a bit lighter than love right now, hm?”

🔪🔪🔪

“Sure,” Jane said, as if she hadn’t just walloped him across the head with those words, so close to the words he accidentally let slip at her apartment last night. It had been a mistake, another one. He’d just wanted to make her feel better, but somehow his own feelings had gotten wrapped up in what he’d said.

They needed to get far away from whatever conversation was developing between them.

“Tell me something,” he said. Feeling a bit too warm —how the hell had their bodies gravitated so close to each other — he loosened the top button on his shirt, felt the cool air on the base of his throat.

“Tell you what?”

“What’s your favorite childhood memory?”

Her eyes wandered upwards, catching a flash of bright pink from a light high up in the rafters, and her nose scrunched. Then a soft smile developed and parted her lips. Her body language always made him feel like he was experiencing her feelings alongside her, traveling through her thoughts with her. “Fishing with my grandparents.”

“Your grandparents fish with poles and strings. It’s a quiet activity.”

She nodded while taking a drink, then smiled at him with a happy, toothy grin.

He shook his head, grinning, as he tried to picture her sitting still long enough to catch a frantic creature. Finesse and patience were not her forte. At a stakeout once, he’d briefly considered dosing her with sleeping pills because she was humming louder than a starship and tapping her hand against the window — out of beat with the music.

“I can’t picture you fishing,” he said. “You don’t have the patience.”

She laughed, open-mouthed,head tilting back. “I didn’t fish. I just ran around with my Papa’s dog, climbed up hills, and picked flowers.”

“See, that makes more sense. Jane, running around the wilderness like a little fasa. Probably throwing rocks and racing around until your legs gave out, and you passed out in the shade.”

She smiled, a beautiful grin that colored her cheeks and made her eyes light up. “That’s exactly what I did.”

“I wish I could see little Jane. I bet you were cute, but trouble.”

“Still am,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear, playing at the tip of a strand with her fingers, just like he always did.

Touching his arm, playing with her hair. It was like she was flirting with him, and knew exactly how to make his heart beat.

There was that damn ripple again, popping up in his chest. As she raised her glass to him and winked, the ripple stuck in his throat for just a brief moment before he successfully choked it down.

“What’s your favorite childhood memory?” she asked.

“I don’t know, probably something involving guns or blowing something up that I shouldn’t have.”

“I honestly can’t believe that you ever blew stuff up when you were a kid. Not with Castis watching over you.”

“Why do you think I had to go to the shooting range every afternoon with Dad? Kept me out of trouble.”

“Guess we would have made quite a pair,” she said with a whisper-soft chuckle.

Was it the thought of knowing her all his life, or the simple word pair that made Garrus’s cells sizzle?

“What’s really your favorite memory?” she said.

He thought for a moment, trying to recall his happiest moments, and memories flashed through his mind of sunshine and wandering around. A slow pace and his mom’s hand holding his. “We had a house out in the suburbs when I was younger. Afternoons I had to shoot with Dad, but after that Mom would take me on walks. They were nice.”

“I can imagine you walking along with her, holding her hand.” Jane melted against his arm, and he’d have fought an army to keep her close like that. “I wanna go on walks with you and Val.”

“Come to Palaven.”

“How much do those protective suits cost?” Excitement made her eyes brighten. “Probably not too much, right?”

“You don’t even have to pay for it. Mom and Dad have tried to buy you one, more than once. I keep telling them not to because I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Pressured?”

“You’d be dragged out to my family’s country home. And there’s always at least twenty Vakarians there. It can be a lot. But, you’d have fun, I think.”

“You’d like that? For me to visit Palaven with you?” She played with her hair again, not the tips this time, just stroked a strand behind her ear. His fingers itched to do the same.

“Of course. Can’t wait to finally meet your family in person, too.”

She’d missed a few hairs, and he reached out, tucking them behind her ear with the rest.

Garrus imagined bringing Jane to Palaven. Of taking her out in a skycar to see the countryside, to his family’s villa where they could sit out in the sun together, showing her all his favorite spots. He’d do anything to make that trip happen.

“You’ll be fine in a little protective gear,” he told her. “And the courtyards and gardens at the country house have shielding, so you can walk around out there as much as you’d like. Out in the sun.”

Trip already half planned in his head, he added, “You’ll have to watch out for my cousin’s baby, though, he’s running around now, and at the nibbly stage.”

She laughed, and held up her hand, a human gesture of promise. “I’ll be sure to wear thick socks at all times.”

“Better make it thick leather boots.”

Jane laughed, then her eyes landed on his mouth. “How sharp are your teeth?”

“Sharp enough to break skin.” The leather boots weren't a joke.

“Okay, but so are mine.”

“Sure, but my teeth would leave more of a mark on your skin, than your teeth on mine.”

Watching his mouth, she played at the center of her throat with her fingertips. “Not sure if that’s a warning, or you’re offering a good time.”

A sudden, large trill wedged in his throat. He almost touched his fingertips to the spot. Any sort of reply was impossible, because words lodged just beneath the trill. She was in a very strange mood, had been all day, actually, considering how she acted at the range.

And his arm was somehow resting on her shoulders, not the back of the booth. Despite only sipping at his drink, he was spinning.

Jane's eyes shot to the top of his head. “Can I touch your fringe?”

“My fringe?”

“You always touch my hair.” Her soft features took on a sharp angle of curiosity.

“Sure,” he agreed, because that was a truth he couldn't deny. The idea that she’d want to touch him in a similar way never crossed his mind, though, maybe because he knew where his urge to get his hands on her came from, and it wasn’t friendly curiosity.

She didn’t take it as an agreement, though, she took it as permission. She scooted even closer, until her thigh pressed to his, tucked her legs under her, and her hands landed on the very top of his head, her little groping fingers sailing over the smooth planes. The trill in his throat broke free, surfacing as a too-deep ripple that made her smile. He cleared his throat, and smiled too, thankful that the ripple sounded somewhat normal, and not the whorey thunder that he expected.

As her steady fingers dipped in the ridges in between each plane he followed every single freckle across her nose and cheeks, from one golden fleck to the next. He anchored his hands to his thighs to keep from running his fingertip over them, just to know what they felt like. He guessed they’d burn his skin, like stars.

“This… is more like running my fingers over your scalp,” he said.

“Mm.”

Her eyes looped over his mouth, his nose, his eyes, his fringe, his eyes again. Following their path left him reeling. Had she ever been so close?

“I only touch the...tips of your hair.”

She sat up on her knees and her hands drifted to the tips of his fringe, her face pressing in even closer. The greens of her eyes more vibrant, the curve of her cheek softer, her eyelashes flicking with each blink and a murmuring purr started in his chest; there was no stopping it.

“Is it more sensitive here?”

“Well, no.”

It wasn’t the spot that felt so good, every soft touch of a finger to any arch or groove of his fringe seared him in a way he’d never experienced before. Maybe because it had been so long since he’d been touched, maybe because all that time in sensory isolation, he’d been imagining what this would feel like. Her skin. On his body.

Her smile grew sly. “Would you like to run your hands over my scalp?”

Spirits yes. He dug his hand into his thigh so he wouldn’t. In a vid once, a turian had gripped his lover’s hair, strands knotted in his fist, trailing over his wrist. Despite trying very hard to forget, that image had burned into the most feral part of Garrus’s brain, and surfaced almost every time he jacked off.

“Does that feel good?” She smiled at him, like she was the keeper of a fantastic secret, like she held the galaxy in her heart.

“ Terrible ,” he said on a hot breath, and she giggled.

The last thing he saw was the soft tip of Jane’s pink tongue sitting between her blunt teeth before he closed his eyes, shying away from her fire-flecked gaze. His purr turned, his muscles shuddered. He felt his head tilting into her overpowering touch.

Jane’s wandering touch pulled him along, wherever it landed his desire chased, his satisfaction rose, radiated, grasped. He heard his own voice, the pleading at the edges, the satisfaction at the core, rippling and burning, every thrumming note shaped by Jane’s warm hands on his thankful skin. Mere curiosity didn’t guide her hands. This was…he couldn't think it, despite feeling it.

A wash of air entered his parted mouth. The tip of his tongue ached for her skin, found the roof of his mouth instead. It flicked, pressed, tasted.

“Jane...” Her name burned in his mouth.

“Hm?”

Her fingers teased beneath his fringe, tip-toeing fingertips crawled down the back of his neck, lower, and lower, to his nape’s thin hide. Only in his deepest dreams had he ever imagined her touching him there. His breath whirled, caught; blood sizzled.

Her fingertips pressed in delicious circles and he shuddered, growled, and almost reached out for her. Jane let out a breath that washed over his mouth, her whisky breath barely noticeable through the warm scent on the crook of her elbow, right by his nose. Warm, like when he almost scented her while she slept on her couch, like when he cradled her wrist after Nihlus shocked her. Hope surged.

And so did his cock. He shifted, and his pants stuck to his wet seam.

Not here, home, her apartment. In her bed twisted in sheets, burying himself within her. Too far. A skycar maybe, if they made it that far.

He imagined a hundred shocked eyes on them. He covered her hand with his, stilling it, because walking out of a club with a hard, free cock bulging against his pants was not his personal preference, but he couldn't lift her hand away, not just yet.

“You shouldn't touch me there—” he murmured, trying desperately to straighten his wavering, whorey voice as he held her hand tight against his nape.

He planned to finish his sentence with not here in public , while maybe guiding her wrist to his mouth so he could run his lips over her skin, breathe in her scent, let her pulse tease his tongue.

Opening his eyes finally, he lifted her hand away and her face, just a moment ago soft and warm, fell to horror, a hammer strike to his heart. The embarrassment and fear in her eyes made him realize that the words he didn’t even get a chance to speak should have been not at all.

She hadn’t meant to touch his nape, hadn’t meant to loosen every ounce of pleasure knotted in his body. Had she?

“I’m so sorry.” She slipped her hand from his. “Fuck I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you there. I forgot. About turians. About that spot.”

Her balled hands rooted into her sternum, her fingers curling tight. The sight darkened any remaining drop of hope that she meant to touch him, that she’d enjoyed it as much as he had.

He comforted her — and himself — with a laugh.

She picked up a glass and set it back down when she saw it was empty. “I guess it's a bad idea to ask your best friend if you can touch his fringe when you’re two drinks in.”

“Two drinks?” He knocked back the almost untouched glass of horosk sitting in front of him. “I’d expect at least three drinks to make you forget that turian napes are…”

One degree below stroking their cock.

“I haven’t had dinner.” She ran her palms up and down her thighs, and he felt as sorry for her as he did for himself.

“Want to go get some food?” she asked, and forced a laugh that made his heart ache, for both of them.

Despite his doubt that she wanted to get food with him, despite knowing he couldn’t hold it together through a meal with her, he said yes. They waved goodbye to Nihlus and Kasumi, and left.

Outside Flux, waiting for a skycar, Garrus wanted to do something, to say something, to fix this, to wash away the awkward energy. But what was there to say? Nothing. What could he do? Nothing.

She didn’t do or say anything either, just bounced on her heels and worried her lips.

As the skycar pulled up, Garrus forced a smile. “I’m just gonna head home. It’s getting late, and we need to be on our talons when we visit Spark Technologies in the morning.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking both sad and relieved.

She climbed in the skycar, alone, and was gone.

What in the dark night was that? The things she said, the way she touched him. Was she so lonely that she’d sought attention from him, too? No, she would never do that to him.

She had just wanted to touch his fringe, but he’d acted like a touch-starved whore. She’d just been unaware, that’s all. It was just a mistake.

After a ride home, Garrus drifted into the dark, lonely apartment he should have moved out of years ago. It wasn’t his apartment that was lonely, it was him.

He sat down on his stiff couch and buried his face in his hands. There was an unsettling stillness in his chest, but with her little hands moving over him his heart had been pounding against his keel, steady and strong. The disparity made his bones ache, his chest twist. Spirits, he wanted it —her — back.

Never before had anyone made him so aware of his own heartbeat.

Too worn out and dizzy to keen, Garrus rose from his couch and carried himself to his bedroom. He sat down at the foot of his bed, unbuckled and threw aside his boots. Jane’s bright eyes and scattered-star freckles looked up at him from the painting he’d made of her over a year ago. He’d kept it there, on the floor in his bedroom, positioned precisely so that he could see it past the edge of his bed if he wanted, but he could turn away from it when he needed to. It had sat there since the night he took it home. Where else could he have put it? Not out in his living space, where others could see. It was safe in his room. Staring at it night after night didn’t help his crush at all, but he’d never been able to hide it away. As much as it hurt to keep her there, it hurt more to cast her out.

His heart thumped against his keel as a keen leapt up in his throat. It was time.

He rose from his bed and lifted the painting from the floor. He refused to look at the image, even though it was burned into his mind. His heart pounded regardless, because like Jane herself, just being near it did something to him. Not looking gave him power, though, a notch of control. He walked to the threshold of his bedroom door, reached to the living space side of the wall, and placed the painting on the floor; another notch of control.

Small adjustments. Compartments. Control.

🔪🔪🔪

Jane stepped into her lonely, dark apartment, letting the door slip closed behind her. She imagined Garrus walking into his own apartment. Was he embarrassed, angry? Was he confused? How bad was he hurting at that moment, because at the skycar port he’d looked not just uncomfortable, but shaken.

Because of her.

There was no way to explain how sorry she was, but she'd have to try.

On stretched tip-toes, Rocket orbited her feet, rubbing his cheeks against her legs, begging for food with insistent chirps.

“Hey buddy. Miss me that much?” She gave him a few soft blinks that revved up his chirps.

She picked him up, propping him on her shoulder. He bumped his head into her chin, eliciting thoughts of basiums. She’d once daydreamed about Garrus resting his crest to her brow.

“Your head bumps are just as good as basiums, huh Rockstar.” She scratched his fluffy neck.

How had she been so incredibly, terribly wrong? How had her desperate heart invented this little space where Garrus was attracted to her, where he felt more than friendship for her, where he enjoyed her touch.

She’d never meant to touch his nape, that was one hundred percent the truth. She thought he’d enjoyed it so much that she got lost in the moment, her hands wandered from one place to the next seeking out new terrain to elicit those satisfied-sounding purrs.

He’d wrapped his arm around her shoulder when she sat closer, had tucked her hair behind her ear, had purred when she touched him.

It’d felt so clear, she wouldn’t have touched his fringe if it hadn’t.

Turians often kept close friendships. Garrus and Nihlus. Castis and Cyrus. Secondary spouses, in some sense. But they didn’t touch each other like Garrus touched her. Garrus had to have known she was flirting with him, even before she groped him like a hussy. Why didn’t he stop her?

Confused to the point of feeling numb, she sat in her kitchen eating cold leftovers straight from a take-out box so slowly that the lights didn’t even come on. Rocket crunched food with gnashing jaws.

Garrus’s body had sizzled with need, she’d been so stupidly sure. And his turning subvocals made her feel thick with purpose, heavy with connection to him and her own body. So alive.

She received a message from Miranda, a reminder that in a few nights she’d be staying over during her kitchen renovation. Miranda could stay in Garrus’s usual room; he hadn’t slept there in months, anyhow.

Back to confessing, then. Her trip back home pulled her heart in opposite directions. One, a place where she had to finally tell Garrus how she felt, which filled her with even more dread than before. The other, a place she could hide, an escape from her stupidity.

After a confession, she could run.

Chapter End Notes

> I feel like I need to hide because of that ending, lol. Thank you so much for sticking around through this slow burn. I hope you keep reading, because I promise some relief is just around the corner!

## Reticent

Chapter Summary

> Words aren't always easy

Chapter Notes

> Welcome to the new fic title! I'd wanted to change it for a while and finally pulled the trigger. I think it's more fitting of their story :)

> Song I had on loop: Cellophane, FKA Twigs

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Despite getting hardly any sleep Garrus woke up an hour early. That should’ve given him ample time to get through his morning routine, but his workout somehow took longer than it should have, he couldn’t find his datapad, he stopped to answer a message from his mom.

At first it was just a subconscious drive, but after more than a few delays he had to admit to intentionally dragging his feet to avoid Jane. Because he could still feel her fingertips dragging over his nape. Still feel her breath on his mouth. Still smell the sweet spice of her skin.

It would take more than one night’s sleep to wash that all away. Her touch, the way she smiled at him, the sparkle in her gaze, was everything he’d ever wanted and if she looked into his eyes for more than a quick glance she’d see that, she’d know.

Why in the hell did he let her touch his fringe. Things had been going so well.

Seeing her was inevitable, but for some reason the idea of trying to act normal while getting coffee with her seemed like an impossible task. It had been the week from hell. First he got stuck up on a cross and she had to get him down, then she put her hands on his head and he melted at her touch like a needy whore.

Via a message that wasn’t easy to send he skipped meeting her for coffee for the first time in two years.

So at work he sat at his desk drowsy, in a touch-induced daze — still — and even though he was terrified of being near Jane, he stared at her empty chair missing her more than was natural. Habits have a way of nestling into your bones, of course it hurt getting them out.

“You’re here early,” Nihlus said. James still wasn’t in, either. “Where’s Jane?”

“Not here yet.”

“You have a true gift for solving mysteries, Detective Vakarian, always impresses me.”

Not in the mood, Garrus ignored his snark.

Nihlus swiveled his chair to face Garrus. “I found out yesterday that my cousin is the lead chef for the banquet tomorrow. Typical of her not to say anything, but she’s been working on it for months, and just told me. So not only do I get to take Kasumi out, the food will be phenomenal.”

“You and Kasumi are going together?” Garrus glanced up at the clock on the wall.

Jane was only a minute late, but for one quick second he worried that she might work from home that day to avoid him. They had their trip to Spark Technologies that morning, though, and she wouldn’t skip that.

“Yes, I’m excited. Like a damned fledgling. Every moment I spend with her fills me with appreciation.”

“Mm.” Garrus picked up his datapad.

“Are you and Jane going together?”

Glancing at the main doors into Homicide, Garrus scratched at his temple. “No, we’re not going together.”

It wasn’t until an uncharacteristic silence that Garrus looked at Nihlus, and then noticed his patient, cool glare, that Garrus noticed the snap in his reply, and he regretted his inability to manage his quick temper as soon as a drop of sense settled into his brain.

“Have you had any coffee yet?” Nihlus asked.

“No.” He’d have to get some from the lounge. That coffee was fine for a midday lift, but lukewarm, weakly brewed coffee wasn’t going to rouse him out of his sleep-deprived, overstimulated stupor. “I’m riding with my parents to the banquet. Meeting Jane there.”

Hopefully. He’d been looking forward to it for so long, just hanging out with her, having some decent food, maybe dancing. Dancing was absolutely off the table now, but they could still have a good time. They just had to get over this awkward little hurdle.

Everything would be fine.

Nihlus got wrapped up in a conversation with Detective Jopon, once again seeking Nihlus’s opinion on knives, leaving Garrus to recalibrate his emotions because he’d have to get through the day without snapping like that again.

It wouldn’t be so bad once Jane got there. They’d share a few awkward laughs and they'd get their work done, rinse and repeat for a few days until last night was a bad memory they both shoved in a box. They’d laugh about it someday. Some day in the very far away future.

Jane arrived at her desk holding not just a coffee for herself, but one for him too, which filled his heart and sank it all at once. Sitting down, leaning forward to place the coffee on his desk, she moved like a creature slinking under the cover of brush at dusk.

He’d hoped she wouldn't be as embarrassed as him. If she had just walked in, her usually bouncy, bright self, he would’ve followed her lead, acted normal.

“Did you get the files I sent?” she asked, sliding her datapad from her jacket pocket.

“No.” He logged in on his datapad. Thirteen new files sat in their shared drive, the first sent at 1 am, the second at 1:20, all the way through 3:43. She hadn’t slept at all, then. He didn’t expect her to be as upset at him, and wasn’t sure how to interpret that. He expected a few jokes, some nervous laughter, not for her to lose sleep and look so…small.

“Started looking into Ben Mintz, the lead biotics developer at Spark. That’s all I could find on the intranet.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Somewhat active on biotics rights social sites. Nothing volatile or insidious, though. A few posts about shitty days at work, one very vague post condemning CEOs that could be read as personal, but not damning enough to indicate a grudge on its own. Can’t figure what motive he’d have, we just know Adam was killed with biotics, this guy is a biotic, and they spent time together.”

“This is the guy that called Charles the day after Adam was murdered. When we were at the house?”

“Mhm.”

He sifted through the info, wishing in vain that he saw something making her sleepless night worth it. Wasn’t much there, unfortunately.

“We can ask what the call entailed,” he said, then guiltily picked up his coffee. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding as if she was apologizing for something. This mess wasn’t her fault though, it was all him.

He couldn't think of a single funny thing to say, and she looked like she could crawl right into a hole and never speak to him again.

“Ready to head over there?” she asked, her eyes stuck to her datapad. “On the way I can read you the notes I made.”

“Yeah,” he said, scrounging for anything to say to dissipate the thick awkwardness between them, but nothing felt right, or adequate. “Thanks,” he said, tipping his coffee to her, then realized he’d already thanked her, and breathed through the nervous trill.

She only nodded, and the silence turned every organ inside him.

He laughed to make her smile. “Clearly I needed it.”

Eyes everywhere but on him, she smiled weakly. Didn’t tease him for being so awkward, didn’t ask if he was tired, didn’t make up some joke about how it was a good thing he was pretty.

Their mornings were always bright and lifting, even when they were tired, weary, and strung out. That morning made him ache for the comfort of a warm sweatshirt, and to see a genuine smile on her face.

They got up, and left.

Walking to the elevator, her step lacked its typical bounce. Leave it to him to be emotionally attached to the way someone walked. She wasn’t just someone, though, she was his Jane.

When would he stop thinking of Jane as his?

The elevator arrived, doors opened, and when he took a step forward he nearly placed his hand on her back to guide her forward. Instead of nudging her in, he tucked his hand in his pocket and walked past her...but he could have sworn that he sensed her lean towards him just an inch, as if she expected his hand to be there. In the elevator her eyes focused more intently on the datapad and he stared at his boots.

When had it become so normal, so natural, for him to place his hand on her back? If there was a date and time that he could go back to, when he first reached out and put his hand there, he’d go back and undo it, no matter why he first did it, because it sure had led him to trouble.

Spark sat at the edge of Shalta Ward, making their ride long. Traffic made it longer. Jane ran out of notes to read aloud half-way through, so they listened to asari cool techno the rest of the way because it was already on, and neither of them wanted to talk about changing it, probably. When the squat glass and white fabrication building sitting among brushy trees came within sight, Garrus was thankful.

He switched the engine off, regretting not clearing the air while they were alone. They were going to be stuck in that building all day, with all of the strange energy hanging between them, unable to be themselves.

They just needed one small moment to ease the uncertainty between them, but he didn’t trust himself to figure out the words or actions that could do that. Jane always filled that role. She always knew what to do and what to say, and she wasn’t saying anything.

It was too late, though, they had work to do.

He stepped from the skycar and looked down just in time to see his foot fall on a small red flower. Lifting his thick-soled boot revealed the thin petals and wispy stem crushed into soil, bruised beyond saving it. No one had planted a seed there, no one had tended it, it wasn’t meant to bud from that spot, but it grew anyway, and he regretted that his inattention caused him to ruin something beautiful.

Jane shut her door and looked up longingly at the tall pines encircling them. She grew up near pine forests, and always shared photos of her walking through misty trails with trunks the size of houses surrounding her. He’d smile at every picture she sent, and wish he was walking down those trails with her. She missed home, he could see it in her sad eyes. In sixteen days she’d be gone, and while he hated the idea of not seeing her for two weeks while she spent time with her family, he was glad she had that to look forward to. She needed the escape.

He couldn't think of a joke to smooth things over, but they couldn't just go on not talking.

He choked down the worry in his voice. “Gonna send me more pictures of trees like this when you go back home?”

Jane turned to the building, kicking at the dirt. “Sure.”

🔪🔪🔪

The air outside Spark made Jane’s lungs swell — humid, thick with loam and fresh-cut grass, it was as close to Earth as you'd get on a space station and she clung to every drop of life entering her lungs. She put the tall trees that made her ache to be back on Earth out of her mind and made her way to the front doors with Garrus following behind her, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

Garrus was trying to act normal, and she just couldn’t.

The lobby was a massive, bright room — tall ceilings, open and unused space — meant to make the company seem big and the visitor feel small. The tight echo of their tapping footsteps certainly helped, too. An empty reception desk sat in front of them. To the right, couches and chairs made of straight lines and real leather sat by a wall-length fireplace. To the left, what looked like demonstrational models and prototypes sitting in glass display cases.

Promotional posters lined the walls, models posing as a farmer tending crops, a nurse healing a child’s skinned knee — projects that had made Spark billions and a household name. Agricultural advancements that increased crop production on human colonies had made Charles Udina and Spark extremely important to the Alliance. They also greatly improved medi-gel to increase the healing potential for humans.

Charles probably had a lot to do with his older brother’s position.

Jane looked around the empty lobby for someone to talk to. Behind her, Garrus froze not two steps into the hall, his head snapped back, wide eyes stuck to the ceiling. Curious, she gave up her search for a warm body to follow his eye line. Suspended high above their heads, hovering with a humbling presence, was a full whale skeleton that took up the entire ceiling, from one end of the long lobby to the other. Admittedly, it was an impressive sight — blue whales were the length of small ships, and that skeleton had to be a blue whale. She looked back to Garrus, and could only gaze at the sight of him. His mandibles hung loose in awe, eyes slowly taking in something wonderful. He looked like a kid, and she wanted to take his hand, share that moment with him.

“What is this? Is it from Earth?” His voice was a mere whisper in the cavernous hall.

“A whale skeleton,” Jane said as Garrus craned his neck, looking from beak-tip to tail-tip. “They’re sea creatures from Earth. They mostly just float around, eat tiny fish.”

He was mesmerized, couldn't peel his eyes from it, and she smiled for the first time since last night. He looked at her, their eyes meeting for the first time that morning, and just as she felt the urge to break the connection because she was too ashamed of what she’d done, he smiled shyly and something bittersweet inside her sternum burst.

“They can breach the sea’s surface,” she thrust her hand upwards, “launch themselves right up into the air and then when their body slams back down huge sprays of water go flying into the air.” She used her hands to make a bursting motion, because words weren’t enough to describe the spectacle. “Uncle David took me, Heather, and Matt whale watching once. We got soaked by one that got a bit too close.”

“Spirits,” he muttered, his eyes drifting from one spot to the next. “It’s hand is bigger than me.”

“Not a hand, they have fins.” She made a paddling motion.

“I need to see one of these alive.”

Caught up in the brief moment of normalcy, she almost said she’d take him whale watching when he came to Earth with her, but she said she’d take him last night when she thought they were flirting, before she groped him. Why in the hell would he want to go visit her family, be stuck with her for two solid weeks, after she did that?

He had to be so embarrassed, even though it was her fault. There weren’t enough sorries in the galaxy to quickly repair their friendship, but she’d offer him as many as he’d take.

Eyes still devouring the sight above him, he hummed as an idea struck him.

“What?” she asked as she looked again at each door for someone to assist them. They were all secure access, though.

“Keeping a dead creature displayed...reminds me of the watch we found at the scene. Keeping artifacts around.”

“Nothing unique to humans about that. All species keep relics of their culture and home world.”

“No, nothing unique species-wise. But it’s more of an individual or family trait, right? I’ve met a few asari who can’t stop talking about old statues, and turians who will tell you about Unification War artifacts until your ears buzz...but most people, in general, don’t give a damn about their species’ past. This, though, reminds me of Charles and Samantha’s home, all the art and books. Nothing was new, all heirloom pieces.”

“You think there’s a link?”

A door to their left opened, and Charles Udina walked out.

“Hello Mr. Udina,” Jane said.

Nearing them, he stopped, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Hello, Detectives. Are you here to see me?”

“Yes, if you have time. And we’d like to meet with some staff members, if possible, since Adam spent time here.”

He glanced at his omni-tool. “I have a few minutes. The biotics lab needed my attention, but Samantha is preparing to move back home...to Earth, that is, so I need to get back to help with the arrangements.”

“Are you as well? Moving back to Earth?” Garrus asked.

“No, my work is here, but she can’t stand to be here anymore.”

Jane’s eyes scanned Charles. From his heavy eyes to his slumped shoulders, and his unsteady hands visibly wringing inside his pockets — he looked like every other parent who had lost a child, and knowing she had to offer him some kindness and support suddenly felt exhausting, which made her feel terrible. She was usually the first to offer condolences, to ensure the family received the support they needed. But today? She just didn’t have the energy for it. She needed rest. She needed to recharge.

“It’s normal sir,” Jane said, casting as much sympathy into her tone as she could manage, “for partners to struggle through the loss of a child.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice not much above a tired whisper, before pausing for a moment to stare off at nothing in particular. “Samantha used to love procedural dramas. Ironic, really, isn’t it? We watched them together quite often. I couldn’t stand them, so macabre, but she enjoyed them. Liked to see justice served, the bad guy put away.”

Charles looked her and Garrus up and down. “In real life, detectives don’t always catch the bad guy, though, do they?”

Was he asking for their assurance? An oath? Or was he putting them on notice? He was used to being the richest person in a room, to getting what he wanted from those who answered to him. Maybe, like his brother, he thought they answered to him.

“We’ll do everything we can to catch this one,” Garrus promised.

“I was given information on you two, you know,” Charles said. “My people did some research. It’s still rare to have a turian and human partnered, so I have to admit I was curious. You have quite the reputation, though, don’t you?”

Yeah, he just wanted to know they were up for the job. But pressuring a detective never quite looked right. Could be seen as harassment.

“We've worked very well together, sir,” Jane answered evenly. Thankfully that was still true, despite her being a gropey bastard.

Garrus nodded, and she wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

“My, I sounded somewhat like my brother, didn’t I?” Charles took a shaky breath in. “I suppose...maybe I'm just telling you that I’m putting a lot of faith in you. Albeit in an indelicate way. I want justice for my boy. Adam was a good kid, a kind kid. He didn’t deserve this.”

When he said his son’s name Jane heard love in his voice. He loved Adam, dearly, that much was clear. Love was always obvious when a name was spoken. It was in the way the name rolled off the tongue, the warmth used to coat every syllable, and the way their breath carried it out and into the world.

“I may have lost hope in my work,” Charles said. “And in keeping my family together, but at least I can continue to hope that you will find whoever hurt my son. And make them pay for what they’ve done.”

“You don’t have to lose hope —” Jane started.

“Well, the point is that is the stereotype, isn’t it?” Charles said. “Divorce caused by the loss of a child. It seems sort of inevitable.”

Jane turned to Garrus, begging with a look to step in and say something encouraging because today she just couldn’t.

Garrus softly cleared his throat. “The loss of a child causes stress, even in the best of bonds. It’s expected. Your Grief Liaison should have provided information on support groups and resources.”

Charles nodded, but said nothing.

Jane streered them back to the case. “The day we visited you in your home, Ben Mintz called you. Can you tell us what you two discussed?”

“We were supposed to be testing that day. He called to make sure I didn’t want to proceed.”

“Was there a disagreement?”

“No, I’m sure it was a bit of a let down for the team. But a person would have to be heartless to think ill of me for canceling it.”

Jane agreed with a nod, and Garrus looked up at the whale again.

Charles reached out his hand to shake theirs. “My assistant will help you to the biotics lab.”

“Before you go,” Garrus said, “do you own any watches?”

Charles’s brow twisted. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just curious about human culture,” Garrus drawled as he pointed up to the whale. “Thought you might be interested in watches when I saw that.”

“If you’re interested in them, perhaps you should speak to my brother’s crowd, the posturing diplomats and Alliance brass, or perhaps tech enthusiasts. My interests have always resided in natural sciences.”

“Isn’t the biotic replicator device tech?” Garrus asked.

“Bit of both, actually, it is tech but it works synergistically with the body. Sort of an external cybernetic. Not that it matters, though, I’m pulling the plug on that damned thing. Biotics are too dangerous. I can stomach the idea of giving more people a power that can be used to—”

Before either Jane or Garrus could respond, Charles immediately turned away from them, raising his omni-tool and telling his assistant to meet Jane and Garrus at the lobby.

As the doors shut behind Charles, Garrus mumbled, “If he thinks that he can take it back now, he’s a bit naive, hm? Can’t pop the safety after the trigger’s already pulled.”

She couldn't help but study Garrus’s expression, wondering if he really believed that.

As they waited in the lobby for the assistant to retrieve them, Garrus continued to stare at the whale skeleton suspended above them, carefully studying it.

“Is this something someone would buy, or something that would be passed down in a family?” he asked.

“Jesus,” she said with a scowl, because who the fuck owned a whale skeleton, other than Charles Udina. “I have no idea.”

The assistant finally came along, guiding them through several corridors, passing through a maze of halls and multiple security checkpoints.

Finally, they came upon a door with a sign reading Biotics Division. Inside, expensive-looking equipment sat atop counters and several workspaces, but only one person was there. Ben stood on the other side of a work table expectantly, his hands folded into a knot and hanging in front of him. Ruffled hair, an untucked button-up, and tennis shoes on his feet. He was young for someone who led a department at a company worth billions, and looking like a kid called to the principal's office made him look even younger.

Clinical metal walls made up three sides of the room. The fourth was glass, and it separated them from what looked like a testing space.

“Detectives,” the assistant said, this is Ben Mintz, the lead on our biotic replicator. You can meet with him while I message our other team members. Would you like them to come here all at once?”

“If you could just let them know we’re here,” Garrus said, “and to stay on the premises until we have a chance to speak with everyone, that would be fine. We’ll disrupt everyone’s work as little as possible.”

A small scoff came from Ben, one that sounded upset more than angry, and the assistant left.

“Ben,” Garrus said. “Nice to meet you, I’m Detective Vakarian.”

“And I’m Detective Shepard. We’d like to talk to you about the program, and your work here.”

Ben only nodded.

“Couldn‘t help but notice the noise you made when Detective Vakarian said we don’t want to disrupt work,” Jane said.

“There is no work, Charles just let us know it’s been canceled.” He looked a bit guilty. “I know why, I get it, but we’ve been working so hard. This just, it sucks for my team.”

“Understandable,” Garrus offered. “Is that what you called Charles about the day after Adam’s death?”

“No, he just told me now about the shutdown. I just called that day asking if he wanted us to run the test without him.”

“Seems pretty strange to worry about a test the day after his son has been killed,” Jane said.

“He, Charles, always wants to be kept in the loop. We always check in with him.”

Jane nodded. “What about Adam? He spent time here, right?”

Ben’s eyes darted back and forth between her and Garrus. “Yeah, Adam did come in a few times. He was a great kid, smart, and kind. I feel so bad for them.”

He sounded genuine. Nervous, but genuine.

“Was Adam interested in the work here?” Garrus asked.

“Charles wanted to show him the prototype, but Adam never seemed interested in it, from what I could tell. He...” Ben hesitated, played with his sleeve cuff. “He enjoyed meeting the staff here. He seemed more interested in getting to know people, and he asked them about themselves. I got the impression he was more interested in people than he was in biology or engineering.”

“Did you spend much time with Adam?” Jane asked.

“Only when he was here, visiting with the whole team. I was never like, alone with him here.”

Garrus’s brows rose. Jane wondered why, then caught on to what Ben just said — never alone with him here.

“I mean anywhere, I only saw him here, and when other people were here too. Is what I mean.”

He was nervous, but just about everyone was nervous talking to officers, especially seven-foot-tall officers who had scowling browplates and an impeccably fitting, expensive suit. When Jane was younger, she thought detectives had to wear nice suits to look more respectable than the average officer on patrol. But later she realized it was all tactics, to make people feel like they were talking to someone more important than them, someone who had their shit together and wouldn't miss a thing.

Jane had her own impeccable suit on that day, and even tamed her hair more than usual, but she sure didn’t feel like she had her shit together. Thankfully, somehow Garrus did, and that drove her guilt deeper.

“Can you tell us about your own biotic abilities?” Garrus asked. “How proficient are you, and what has your experience with biotic abilities been like?”

“Oh, very low, really. I can close doors, stuff like that, just manipulate light things.” His eyes lit with excitement. “But that’s why I got so interested in giving other people the ability to do stuff like that. It’s still really useful. And people can be so judgemental, right? About people who can do stuff like that. They fear stuff they can’t understand. I’ve alway thought if we could give other people the power to do things with objects, that maybe there would be less stigma.”

Garrus offered an understanding nod. “I get it, turians aren’t very open-minded about it either. Has that caused any frustration in your life, personally?”

“Well, some.” He played with his cuff again, tugging it, rolling the edge. “I’m not one of those biotics weirdos though, who get all carried away with pro-biotics rhetoric.”

“You know people like that? Fanatics?” Jane asked.

“No. No not personally. It’s just in the news and stuff, right? Sometimes I see people getting all moralistic,” he scoffed, “or they think they’re gonna start a revolution.”

When Jane didn’t say anything, because her brain froze, Garrus stepped up. “Can you tell us about the prototype?”

“Yeah, it’s just right there.” Ben gestured to the side of the room.

The prototype sat in a cradle to the side. It seemed so innocuous. Unremarkable, even. Two wrist attachments — bulky bracelets — and nothing more. No crazy cords hooking it up to equipment. No flashing lights or intricate controls that people would assume accompanied such a remarkable breakthrough in technology.

Garrus stepped to a table between them and Ben, placed his hand on it. “Do you have any footage of people using the tool? Prior to the date of the murder, if possible.”

“Of course. No one has used it since, anyhow. And it hasn’t left the building, so no one could have taken it to… well, to that park,” he said, helpfully. Adam wasn’t murdered at the park, though, so that was one notch against Ben being involved. “We can provide door access logs as well. Would you like to see it, the footage, I mean, now?”

“No, Detective Goto will be reaching out to you for all digital evidence,” Garrus said. “Footage, access logs, and all development reports. Right now we’re more interested in meeting you, getting to know what Charles is like, what Adam was like when he was here.”

“Oh, well Charles is a good boss, you know. I enjoy… I enjoyed working here.”

Jane felt a tinge of sympathy for Ben.

“You’d say your relationship is good, then? Can you tell us more about your role here, the environment?” Garrus asked.

Ben nodded, crossed his arms, and sat down. Yes, they’d be there for a while, it was best to get comfortable. Garrus pulled out two chairs, offered one to Jane, and they sat down too.

One quick lunch at the Spark cafeteria and six long hours of interviews later, Jane and Garrus walked out of Spark with no leads. Adam was sweet, everyone loved him, and they only interacted with him slightly. Charles was well-liked for a CEO, everyone seemed to genuinely enjoy working at the company.

So, no significant interactions with Adam, no grudge against Charles, and no clear motive amongst any of them.

It was the end of the day and Jane itched to get home, crawl into bed with Rocket and maybe just fall asleep. Everyone’s voices were still buzzing in her ears, and she got a total of two hours of sleep last night. She felt on edge in a way that was so abnormal for her it made her even more self-conscious.

Just outside the car, Garrus stopped. “I think we should still keep an eye on Ben. There could always be something we’re missing. Something we’ll find out later.”

“Mm.”

“Think someone would target Charles because of the prototype? Someone who doesn’t want him developing it? Either pro or anti-biotic.”

“It’s possible. We can have some floaters dig around social sites, see if anyone’s talking about it.”

She looked up at the trees, because Garrus’s unguarded gaze made her feel slightly crazy. Through the day he’d eased back into their normal rapport, and she just couldn't understand how he felt normal again so quickly after she felt him up in a club.

“Feels a bit strange,” Garrus said, and her eyes snapped to his, waiting for words that would bring everything between them to the surface. “His employees researching us, being investigated by Charles.”

Jane let out a tight sigh, kicked at the ground then got annoyed at the dirt on the toe of her boot. “He’s rich, and he’s used to being in charge. I don’t think he means harm. We should probably meet with Samantha again before she moves back to Earth.”

“I can’t imagine living apart from my bondmate,” Garrus said, opening his door. “Leaving seems unimaginable to me, think there’s something behind that?”

Jane shrugged, trying not to let her heartache at the mere mention of bondmate coming from his mouth. She snapped her door open and fell into the passenger seat. “I’ve never been so close to a boyfriend that I couldn’t stand being away from them, but I can imagine if you’re in love, being apart would be difficult, yeah.”

Garrus flicked the engine on, and when the radio began to play more asari techno, he switched it to something else. Some monotonous, droning tune that was worse. She tried not to stare at him, tried not to let her mind run wild guessing at his mood or what he was thinking.

“Sorry I missed coffee this morning.”

“It’s okay, it’s just coffee.” It was just coffee, but knowing he skipped it for the first time in two years because he was uncomfortable being with her hurt.

Garrus hummed, and then silence fell between them. Maybe if he had shown up everything would feel a little better, maybe she wouldn’t feel so on edge, so confused and worried.

She curled against the skycar door, her arm propping her tired head up. Citadel neighborhoods slowly passed by, lights flashing and flooding into the skycar cabin. She stared out the window at nothing in particular. They were moving at the typically slow pace Garrus always set, giving her time to rest and think about the case.

Every conversation they had that day in which every employee said Adam was a sweet, extroverted kid replayed in her head. How did such a kind kid wind up in a muddy culvert, someone’s finger marks permanently pressed into his neck? There was hatred in it, cruelty. Purpose.

“So,” Garrus said. “The watch, along with the car, is pretty much all we have right now. Two expensive fashion pieces. What’s our next step?”

She wondered for a moment if her Uncle David owned a watch. She should call him and ask. It had been weeks since they talked, and she missed him.

Chewing at her lip, she ached to turn the damn music off, but the thought of moving even an inch made her chest tight. “We’ll have to see what James digs up on the watch via his contact. And I can step in and help to put some pressure on the skycar rental companies to hand over their records on that model.”

“Sounds good.”

She felt his eyes on her, but she continued to stare out the window, and let the cool glass press to her warm forehead, took two slow breaths.

“That must have been pretty amazing, the whale watching.”

“Mhm.”

He didn’t say anything after that. They breezed through traffic, music filling the silence between them. It was so damned depressing, like a wilted flower. The auditory equivalent of a frown. There was no life in it, no feeling, no emotion.

“This music is driving me fucking crazy,” she huffed. “It’s just beats and ominous tones.”

Garrus hummed, perfectly calm. “You can change it if you want. It doesn't matter to me what’s on.”

She couldn't help but feel like a petulant child, throwing a fit because she couldn’t express herself like a mature adult. She felt like shaking, shaking the door handle, shaking Garrus. Shaking everything around and between them loose. Everything felt so irreparably fucked. She should have just told him before her fool mind gave her the idea that maybe he was interested too, maybe they’d tell each other how they’d been feeling for years, and everything would turn out magical, beautiful. They’d maybe fall in love.

That’s what she really wanted, wasn’t it? To fall in love with him. To be loved by him.

Fuck, she'd made a mess. The puzzle pieces were scattered, by her own fucking groping hands.

All the words she should have said to him last night, the night before, hundreds of nights before, crowded her mouth. They were slipping at the edge, ready to scatter. Her feelings, the night she slept on his couch. Not just because holding them in was making her lose her mind, but because he deserved to know. She’d been lying to him, and the only way forward was the truth.

She had to tell him, it couldn't wait until she left for Earth, she shouldn't wait. It was time. She felt like a shaken-up can ready to explode, and he sat there so calm, so undeserving of all this, and so unaware of the mess that was about to be resting at his feet.

Chapter End Notes

> Y'all!! I'm so excited for the next chapter! I'm doing the kermit flinging his arms around wildly dance 😆 The next chapter title is "Confession" 👀

## Confession

Chapter Summary

> Feelings surface

Chapter Notes

> Song I had on loop: Old Money, Lana Del Rey

At the wheel, Garrus kept his hands steady.

Curled against the skycar door, chin buried into the crook of her arm and forehead pressed to the window, Jane looked like she wanted to crawl outside and disappear. She breathed out, and Garrus breathed in, and he wondered how they could make tomorrow better. Showing up for coffee would be a good first step.

“Hey,” he said, making sure his voice was light, but he didn’t have any following words. He just wanted to say something, coax her into looking at him, show her it was just a dumb slip-up. Awkward crap like that happened when friends went out drinking.

She did look at him, but with a furrowed brow and worried eyes she seemed on the verge of panic. “Why are you always so calm? So collected, and…and…”

Not prepared for an accusation, or how upset she’d be, his mandibles tucked tight. “I’m just trying—”

“I groped you. In public.” Every syllable was drenched in misery, and the outright admission pulled at his gut.

If it didn’t hurt so bad, he’d laugh. What happened at Flux was an accident, and she regretted it, clearly. But he’d let hope slip in once again, and allowed himself to fall into her deep pull with an oblivious smile on his stupid face. He hadn’t been so stupid in a long time, not since Cama.

“Well private would have been worse.” He tried to laugh, but didn’t get far into it because Jane didn’t smile.

“You should be upset,” she said. “Uncomfortable. Angry.”

“Angry? It's not like you meant to, you were already in the general area. And my hands are always on…”

Her waist, her hips, her back, her hair.

“…on you all the time. It’s not–”

She shook her head. “Yeah but you don’t mean anything by touching me. It’s different.”

His mouth opened, about to admit that those touches were fueled by his heart and his desire. He should tell her. Maybe it would be best. It was all spiraling out of his grasp.

Small adjustments weren’t working. Compartments were failing. Control was nonexistent.

“Jane, I–”

“I slept on your couch.” The words burst from her. “When you injured your spur sparring with Nihlus.”

But he’d slept on the couch, woke up there.

He felt his browplates pinch. “Wha–”

“With you. Next to you. You picked me up at your door and carried me inside like a stuffed animal. And you got down on the couch. Laid down, with me still in your…”

Arms. He’d held her. Warm. Soft. Close.

“And I should have gotten up, but I didn't. I slept there all goddamn night. I woke up on the couch, only a minute before you did.”

His heart hammered, vision narrowed to traffic lanes and zipping lights. “I don’t understand.”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

“It's ok,” he said reflexively, because he wasn’t processing any of it. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips, pressing against the stiff wheel.

“The next morning you asked if you’d done anything embarrassing, and I said no because you didn’t, so it wasn’t a lie, really.”

For months, images of holding her as they slept had filled his waking thoughts, so vividly. And not just that, he thought he’d dreamed of touching his talon to the scar knit into her abdomen, too.

His talon tapped against the steering wheel, ticking in time with his heartbeat. Jane watched him, waiting, he could tell even though he wasn’t looking at her. He couldn’t look at her.

They’d slept together all night long. This whole time, months, she’d just pretended that it didn’t happen, and he’d spent months wishing his dream was real. Was it real, though? At that moment, the line between dream and reality seemed pretty thin.

She didn’t lie, but it sure felt like a truth he should have been told.

“Just a turian lie,” he said, not sure if the sting in his voice was on purpose or not.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He forced himself to face her and wished that he hadn’t because she looked close to tears. How did he want so badly to hold someone close, and push them away all at once, to take her hurt away, and make damned sure she knew how badly she was hurting him.

She clung to the door so tightly, as far away from him as possible.

No wonder she ran away when they were dancing in her kitchen. She must have been so uncomfortable, thinking he’d do something like that again. He’d assumed she didn’t pick up on his feelings, but it was so much worse: she’d sensed his feelings and ran, she’d been uncomfortable in his arms when he was about to confess how much he adored her, wanted more with her. If she’d told him what he’d done, if he’d known, he never would have asked her to dance. Never would have thought maybe there was a chance…

The Presidium sat in the distance ahead, lakes reflecting the last burst of daylight. He switched the skycar's windshield visor on and it flickered to life, shielding him from the brightness.

Their silence swelled atop the droning music. He wanted to be mad, wanted to tell her that keeping that knowledge from him wasn’t okay, because spirits did he ache sitting in that skycar with her, knowing what had happened. It was real. She had no clue what those thoughts of holding her had done to him. And she hid it. For months.

“Garrus…”

But, he’d hidden things from her too, for years, not just months. That she was his everything, that he could fall in love with her within the click of a trigger if he let himself. And he hadn’t told her, had actively hidden it over and over, and, damn, maybe that was worse.

He’d been lying to her too, and look where that had led him. Doped up, forcing her to lie with him.

“Garrus—”

“Grabbing your friend and making them sleep next to you is pretty embarrassing, though. Pretty horrible, actually.”

Her voice caught, she shook her head. “It wasn’t like that. You were in pain. It was… it was just a hug. nothing important. Just a hug. And you didn’t force me to do anything, I never gave you any indication that I didn't want to be there…Fuck. I should have left once I knew you were okay. It was my fault.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I'm an idiot. You held me when I was shot. It was like that. You didn’t do anything wrong. You just needed comforting while you were in pain. But I laid there because—”

“If it wasn’t wrong why didn’t you tell me?” A pleading trill spilled from him, he pulled it back in and made sure his voice remained even . “You should have told me I did something to make you uncomfortable.”

Pain spiked in his knuckles, his hold on the steering wheel too tight. He loosened his grip, and focused on traffic lanes and skycar lights. What the hell was going on with them? How was he supposed to walk away from this conversation with a lighthearted smile? Something was breaking, cracking between them and somehow they had to get it under control, because if they didn't…

Staring out the window she sniffled, whether from tears ready to spill, or the quick breaths working through her chest, he wasn’t sure.

“You’d never do anything to make me uncomfortable.” A cloud of condensation fogged the glass near her mouth. “I fucked up, not you. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for and I—”

“Dancing in your kitchen,” he said, the words hissed over his teeth, and she froze. “You were uncomfortable.” He looked from her, back to traffic. His mandibles ached they were so tight. “I knew you were, I felt it, but you didn’t tell me about that either.”

“Please don’t bring that up now. I can’t.” She turned from him, let her head fall against the window with a thud that turned his stomach. “I need to tell you…”

But she didn’t tell him anything. The damned droning music played on until he punched a key with his knuckle, killing it, and she flinched. The silence thickened every inch of that skycar and every sliver of air between them.

“I don't want to ruin our friendship.” Her voice was so quiet, so sad, that a keen gathered in his throat.

Anger twisted in his chest, but for once in his life he didn’t want to feel angry. Not at her, never at her.

“You’re not ruining it,” he said, even though things felt pretty damned wrecked at that moment.

“I thought at first I didn’t tell you because I didn't want you to be embarrassed, but I was being selfish, I was embarrassed. Thinking of myself instead of you.”

“Waiting this long is worse, though. I am embarrassed, and now it's more embarrassing. I’ve spent months thinking…” he shook his head. No, he couldn't finish that sentence.

“I know. I should have just told you that morning. It was wrong.”

He only nodded, had no words, stared out at traffic so intently he probably could have recited every plate that zipped past, if he wasn’t so damn dizzy and heartbroken.

“I’m so, so sorry, Garrus. If you want some space…”

No, that’s not what he wanted, never. He shook his head, at least he thought he did, awareness of his own body was fleeting. She didn’t react though. Because she wasn’t looking at him, just staring out the window.

When he looked back out the windshield, he began to pull into an empty space. Somehow they’d wound up back at the C-Sec garage port. The drive had been a blur. As soon as they rolled to a stop Jane opened her door, didn’t even wait for him to kill the engine.

“I’m sorry,” she said, foot resting on the concrete below, “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

Tomorrow? They should be talking. Hell if he knew what he’d say, but, there was so much—

But then she was gone, slinked out of the skycar, door clicking shut. He sat there alone, stunned, lost, confused with her small form growing smaller, and smaller, in the rearview mirror, bobbing in a sea of people, until it swallowed her. He should have run after her, but his legs were lead.

A rap on the door had him turning his head. Nihlus stood outside, leaned a forearm against the roof, looking at him through glass with concerned eyes.

“Gonna sit in that skycar all night, G?”

Garrus took a quick breath that felt like the clean slice of a blade through his lungs. “Maybe.” But he grabbed his datapad and got out.

Nihlus touched a palm to his elbow. It was almost grounding, but Garrus was too high for it to help. “What’s wrong?”

He was so tense that when he stood up straight his back clenched, and his hand holding the datapad shook.

“Hey, is it work? Your mom?”

“Jane.”

“Is she okay?”

Buried deep within his pocket, Garrus’s trigger finger tapped against his leg. Walls. He needed walls and certainty. A safe space, but that was Jane’s home; the end of her bed and a blanket wrapped around his head and her soft voice telling him she’d always be there for him.

Well where the fuck was she now? Bailed. Running away.

Nihlus nudged Garrus.

“The night you busted my legspur, I was so doped up by the time I got home.” Garrus searched for her in the crowd. But she was gone. “Jane just told me that I picked her up that night, put her on the couch with me and she slept there. With me. All damned night.”

Nihlus frowned, concerned, caring. “I told you to let me take you home.”

“I held her, had my arms around her and touched her scar.”

“She told you that?”

“I remember it, I just thought I had dreamed about it. Dammit, I’ve had these moments in my head, thought they were just dreams or some dumb wish, but they were actual memories, real fucking things that happened, and she didn’t tell me about it. Why?”

Nihlus gave Garrus’s wrist an encouraging tap. “Same reason you don’t tell her how you feel. I’ve stayed out of it, let you guys get to it in your own time because if you’re not ready, you’re not ready, but you have to talk. You’re going to get hurt, both of you, if you don’t.”

“Fine, it’s obvious, I wish she was mine, but—”

“And why haven't you told her?”

“Because she said we’re just friends, and it’s perfect that way. No attraction, perfect partners.”

“Would entertaining the possibility that she was trying to convince herself of that, not you, hurt you that much?”

“That she…?” he couldn't finish the thought, let alone the sentence. Garrus stared at his boots, unwilling to say yes, it would hurt that much. When he looked back up, Garrus expected Nihlus to look stern, exasperated, smug, but he was too good of a friend for that.

“Can’t you recall,” Nihlus said, “a single thing you’ve said that might make her think you’d never want something more? Make her reluctant to admit how she really feels about you?”

Garrus wasn’t going to answer that, because Nihlus was right 99% of the time and the bastard didn’t need to be right about this too.

“ I”m not attracted to humans,” Nihlus said. “ I’m never falling in love again. Never dating again.”

Lies. Not actual lies. Turian lies. He’d relied on them so heavily for years just to keep his feelings for her below the surface.

Could Jane have been telling herself lies, too, and hiding her feelings just like him? His heart twisted, and a breath stuck in his lungs.

“Come on, let’s go to your place, get some food.” Nihlus’s arm landed on the length of Garrus’s shoulders, nudging him away from the skycar.

“Jane. I…” Garrus stared in the direction that she left, wishing that he could just reach out, pluck her out of the crowd, and set her down by his side.

“I’m buying you dinner and we’re going to talk.” Nihlus’s hand patted Garrus’s keel. “And then you can go get her.”

🔪🔪🔪

Jane chewed at her lip, drummed her hand against the elevator wall just to hear the metallic tap fill the space around her so what happened in the skycar didn’t feel so fake. The anger, the fear, in Garrus’s eyes had torn her heart right in two. And even through it all she’d had selfish thoughts. She’d wanted him to reach out and take her hand. Worse, she wanted to crawl into his lap, his arms to wrap around her, and to just nestle into him. Beg him to promise it would be okay. While he was spiraling angry and confused. She didn’t deserve his friendship, and wouldn't blame him if this was it for them.

She’d been thinking about that moment all week, telling him how she felt. Stupidly, she never imagined it was going to be that bad. Never imagined it would hurt both of them so much. She’d imagined a rational conversation, not his burning subvocals and tight hands on the steering wheel.

Her selfishness and stupidity had created a nice little cataclysm.

At the elevator’s ding she flung herself into her hallway, dodged her surprised asari neighbor who was always so kind and offered soft smiles everytime Jane and Garrus were acting like fools in the halls.

Safe inside her apartment she turned the automated lights off and slid to the floor against the front door, burying her face in her hands, pulling at her hair, pressing her lips so tight they tingled.

A soft mow and clicking footsteps grew near. Looking up, she smiled at Rocket’s sweet face and eager green eyes. She straightened her legs so he could climb into her lap, and relaxed at the weight of his paws kneading into her thighs. Looking into her eyes, he slow-blinked, and purred. She did her best to slow blink back.

“God, I’m glad you’re here, buddy.” She ran her hand over his head, touched the velvet tips of his ears with her fingertips. “Thank you.”

Rocket meowed, low and sad, and pawed at her chest. It always felt like he could read her mind, knew what she was going through, and was there to offer his love.

“Well I told him. I didn’t tell him everything I should have, though. The conversation got so confusing, and I chickened out.”

Rocket hummed, so dulcet that it sounded like sympathy to her ears, and he patted his paw against her chest again. She took his paw and kissed it, and the sweet little devil actually let her hold it for a good second before he took it back.

“It’s just a damned crush on my friend, but I’ve never hurt this much and been so scared. Not in my whole life. And I don’t understand why.”

🔪🔪🔪

Nihlus ordered food, put some nature show on, and got two beers from the fridge, all while Garrus sat on his couch feeling both loose and tight. The same couch that he’d slept on with Jane. He kind of hated it at that moment, like it was the couch’s fault that happened.

Garrus took a beer from Nihlus’s outstretched hand. Nihlus didn’t sit down though, he walked to the bedroom door. The beer was okay, but Garrus wished Nihlus had given him something stronger.

Nihlus was silent, long enough for Garrus to look over just in time to catch him drag his hand down his face. His mandibles flexed. Worried, Garrus followed Nihlus’s gaze to the floor outside his bedroom door and he panicked.

Once, when he was fourteen, Sol found mildly pornographic pictures he’d drawn. She’d run straight to Mom, giggling as she brandished them in the air like a damned flare. Mom had kindly commented on the artistic quality as he stood still, mortified. There hadn’t been an artistic thought in his head when he drew them.

Nihlus staring down at Jane’s painting was infinitely more embarrassing. Jane’s painted bright eyes and wide smile seemed sort of mocking at the moment.

“What is that?” Nihlus asked, gesturing to it, sounding disappointed.

“A painting. I made it at that class we went to.”

“Last year? Why is it sitting out here on your floor?”

“Because I had to move it out of my room.”

Garrus was too worked up to realize that was a truth he probably should have kept to himself.

Nihlus crossed his arms over his chest, shifted his weight, then looked at Garrus in a way that made him feel the sincere and deep urge to apologize. “Do you stare at it when you go to bed?”

“Not always,” Garrus said defensively. When Nihlus’s brows rose, Garrus felt like a fool. “That was a joke, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Nihlus said, taking low strides to the couch, “but I’ll take the blame for that. I should have guessed.”

“Nih, I’m not doing great.”

“Clearly,” Nihlus said, but he rustled Garrus’s fringe.

Garrus had to steady his balance to keep from falling into the dip when Nihlus sat down on the couch next to him.

“Spirits, you have to figure this shit out. It’s—”

“Bad, I know.”

Nihlus reclined back, propped his feet on the coffee table. “No, it’s ridiculous. She adores you, you adore her, do something about it.”

“Well until you said something I thought she wasn’t interested. I’m still not sure…”

Nihlus turned and narrowed his gaze at Garrus. “Be sure. Just tell her, I promise you it will work out.”

Garrus had no words, only jumbled thoughts, unvoiced fears and evidence that he was sure proved Nihlus wrong. He opened his mouth twice, but only picked at the ink label on his beer bottle, watched the chips grow muddy mingling in the condensation.

A chime announced the food arriving. Garrus sat and watched as Nihlus plated it, because eating out of delivery boxes was depressing, in his opinion, and they sat at the couch eating.

After a few minutes, Nihlus swallowed his food and hummed. “Tell me, and be honest please, why has this all been such a disaster for you?”

“I don’t know, it just felt…wrong. The first time I noticed that I was attracted to her was the night I found out about my mom. I thought I was just lonely, like I just needed to feel…” Garrus shrugged. “Just needed to feel . So I tried to forget it.”

Nihlus shoved a chunk of meat in his mouth, his mandibles worked at it. “You went to Jane’s the night you found out about your mom?”

“It’s the only place I wanted to be.”

“Your heart is smarter than your head.”

Nihlus knocked his skewer against Garrus’s head, and Garrus swiped him away.

“That’s not all of it though,” Nihlus said. “Why would you hold back on a chance with someone who makes you so happy?”

Garrus shrugged, and Nihlus faced him, giving him a look that said in the kindest and most supportive way “knock off the shit”.

“I’m scared to death. Of being too much, or not enough. Bonding with a human. Of it not working. Of her lea…” his words stuck in his throat, and he couldn't look Nihlus in the eye anymore, too scared to say the words out loud, and for someone to know how much he feared the possibility of Jane walking away permanently, of never seeing her again.

“So take it slow until you feel more sure.”

Garrus nodded, trying to unclench his mandibles, staring down at his food. He hadn’t taken a bite.

“Jane would never walk out on you, I’m more certain of that than anything.”

“She ran away tonight.”

“So ask her not to run away again when she’s scared. She’ll honor that.”

“Why do you always make life seem so easy?”

“Because life is easy once you free yourself from fear and regret.”

Garrus poked at a chunk of meat, pushing it around his plate. Reluctantly, he skewered it and popped it into his mouth. After a few bites, Garrus admitted to himself that he was sick of being scared. Sick of hiding behind his walls. He’d chase Jane if he had to, this once at least, because she was probably scared too.

They finished dinner and while Nihlus took care of the dishes and packed up their leftovers into the fridge, Garrus peeled himself from the couch. He picked up Jane’s painting, and put it on top of his dresser, not on the floor.

Walking back into the living room, Garrus called to Nihlus in the kitchen. “How do you know about Jane’s feelings?”

Nihlus shrugged, and popped some snack that he’d raided into his mouth. “Same reason I know about yours. You two are oblivious, but anyone who spends more than two minutes with you isn’t.” He looked at Garrus over his shoulder, cutting a look. “I spend a lot of time with you two.”

Garrus’s mandible flickered.

“Kasumi talked with Jane the other night, you know?” Nihlus said as they sat back down on the couch.

Garrus crossed his arms, then uncrossed them to steal some chocolates from Nihlus’s hand. He shoved them in his mouth and waited for Nihlus to continue.

“She asked Jane about you, and her, and whether there was something there.”

Garrus’s heart crashed against his chest, terrified of learning the truth, knowing how she felt.

“Jane said you never want to be in a relationship again.”

Garrus swallowed hard around the chocolate. He’d said that too often to count the times, it was a defense, a dumb one, because it might have pushed Jane away.

“And pointed out that you’re not attracted to humans.”

“I’m not, really. Mostly just her. Of course there’s beautiful humans, in the way the lines of a mountain range are beautiful, or the way a soft silver leaf against a morning sky is beautiful, but I’m not attracted to them. I don’t want to hold them, taste them.”

Nihlus smirked, and a browplate cocked. “You want to taste Jane?”

Garrus’s smile twisted out of him, wide and fluttering. Stop he wanted to say, but knew that he’d sound like an embarrassed fledgling if he did.

“You know.” Nihlus waited for Garrus to look at him. “She never denied being attracted to you, or having feelings for you. Why is it so hard for you to see how she feels about you?”

Cama.

Garrus couldn't say it out loud, but he didn’t have to, not with Nihlus, because the next words out of Nihlus’s mouth were, “It’s normal to protect yourself after you get hurt like that. But don’t let what she did to you ruin your chance at something better.”

Garrus nodded, and Nihlus finished off the chocolates with a toss into his wide mouth.

“You never really talk about your mom with me.”

Garrus focused on the vidscreen, watched a herd of chaffa nuzzling grass in a sweeping prairie. Did Nihlus really spend his time watching bucolic nature shows like this? “I don’t talk about it much. With anyone.”

“How are you? How is she?”

“She’s great, mostly. She’s so strong and happy.” He rolled his empty beer bottle in his hands, and thought about getting another. “I worry a lot, though, just waiting for something bad to happen. Another hospital stay, another round of antibiotics, steroids, inhibitors. It’s not easy.”

Nihlus wrapped a comforting arm around Garrus’s shoulders. It only took the slightest pressure for Garrus to fall against Nihlus, letting the hug soothe his anxious body and mind.

“She has a lot of years left,” Nihlus said, simply. “Enjoy them with her.”

“I have to ask Mordin to connect us with someone who’s running this promising new treatment.”

“Can I help somehow?”

“No, thanks though. Jane said she’d be there with me.”

They sat on the couch, watching chaffas graze. No wonder Nihlus was always so relaxed, if he spent his time just watching animals chew on grass. Garrus and Jane spent their free time watching undead tear into people’s necks and pine after lovers.

Maybe their next vid night he should suggest a nature show.

Maybe on their next vid night they’d sit a little closer. He’d feel her skin press to his.

“I have to be sure of what Jane wants before I say anything,” Garrus said. “There’s been too many fuck ups. And even if she does feel something, doesn't mean she wants to explore it. Maybe there’s a good reason she doesn’t.”

“Sure, but that’s easy enough to handle. Ask her.”

Garrus nodded, then, feeling tired, dazed, and free for the first time in a long time, he gushed, “She’s beautiful.”

Nihlus smiled wide and patted Garrus’s knee. “Yeah, you’ve got yourself a fine one.”

After a pause Nihlus shifted into the cushion, and let out a dissatisfied hum.

“What?” Garrus asked.

“This couch is shit. She must really like you if she slept on it all night with you.”

“What can I say? I’m an expert cuddler.”

A grin snuck out of Garrus. He felt lighter, better, and relaxed even further into his lumpy couch.

“Okay,” Nihlus said, “now that all your problems are solved, tell me why were you two so weird this morning.”

“She stroked my nape at Flux last night. It got…weird.”

“Spirits.” NIhlus said, then laughed, loud and obnoxious. “You oblivious lidix—”

“She said it was an accident. I was sure she was just curious about fringe—”

“And I’m sure Jane thought she died and ascended into the stars, finally getting her hands on you.”

Garrus scoffed and crossed his arms.

“When you were up on my cross I thought she was going to offer to suck you off right there, even with me and Kasumi in the room.”

Garrus’s mind flooded with thoughts of Jane’s soft mouth, her plump pink lips. He almost shuddered imagining her mouth on his skin, her lips dragging over his pulse. But teeth anywhere around his dick made him shudder in a different, unpleasant way. And getting to the point where they’d be doing stuff like that seemed pretty daunting still. They had to talk about all of this first.

“I can’t even count the different reasons that terrifies me right now.”

“You need to get over your fear of blow jobs, especially when you and Jane start dating. She’s good at them.”

A surprised, irritated chitter tightened Garrus’s throat. “How the hell do you know?” Garrus elbowed him hard in the keel, but didn’t pull out of Nihlus’s hug.

Nihlus laughed, throwing up his hands. “We talked technique once,” he offered, the pacifying note in his voice undermined by another laugh. “Hey, I’ll tell her to go easy on you the first time so you don’t get overwhelmed.”

“How about I talk to her about all of this before you give Jane advice on what to do with her mouth.”

“Fair,” Nihlus said easily.

Garrus gave Nihlus a suspicious side-eye. “Did you abandon me on that cross just so Jane would have to get me down?”

Nihlus’s subvocals rolled. “As if I have to concoct moments for you two to drift into that sexual tension-fueled little world you share. You get there on your own without my assistance.”

Garrus kept his mandibles tight because he wasn’t sure what to say about that, and together they watched the chaffas cantering across a prairie at sunset.

Once Nihlus went home, Garrus’s apartment was too empty, too quiet. He took a shower, threw on a heavy sweatshirt to feel the weight of something soft on him, but that only made him think he enjoyed the feeling so much because his mind missed the feeling of her being on him, subconsciously, because he didn’t even remember it, not truly. He crawled into bed, and as soon as he set his head back against the pillows stacked high behind him, he pressed a finger to his omni-tool.

He messaged her. Just one word: Hey

The hurt in her eyes, the fear, and his own angry words replayed in his head. They had to make it right before they went to bed. She had to know nothing was broken beyond repair.

Nothing. He waited. And waited. Something told him she was awake, and not answering.

Garrus dialed her number, and waited for the call to be rejected. So, he was surprised when she actually answered. Voice only, though, no vid. And she didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been waiting for you to call me,” Garrus said to a blank screen, where Jane’s face should be. “Pretty rude of you to ditch me at the skycar port and not even call to apologize.” Somehow he’d forced some humor into his voice, though pushing it through his tight throat nearly made him keen.

There was silence. Then, finally, in the quietest, most bruised voice he’d ever heard from her, she said, “Didn’t think you’d want to talk to me tonight. Thought you’d like some space.”

“I never want space, even when I’m confused.”

“Your best friend is an asshole, that’s not so confusing.”

“Let me see your face.”

“Garrus, I look like shit. Just let me hide.”

He swallowed back his nerves. It would be so easy to just say things were okay between them, and figure out how to handle this later. But, his heart didn’t want to suffocate anymore.

He looked at her painting and saw the most beautiful woman alive looking back at him.

“Nothing makes me happier than your face,” he said. “That little elliptical nose. The curve of your freckled cheeks. The way your green eyes light up. I wish I knew what makes them shine like the stars, but until you tell me, I’ll just enjoy the way they make me feel.”

Silence, save her faint breaths and Rocket’s purring. At least Rocket was there to ease her sadness.

“Why aren’t you pissed at me?” The pain in her voice wrapped around his heart and clenched tight. “You should be furious. You should be refusing to talk to me, and here you are reaching out to me, when I should be begging you just to talk to me, let alone look at me.”

“I’m not mad. Not really, at least. Just embarrassed. And confused. But I want to talk. You’re not the only one who’s made mistakes.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you slept on the couch with me?”

“Because I…” the silence stretched, but he gave her time. He’d had hours sitting with Nihlus to say his truth out loud. She deserved the same.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” she said. “I know I have to be, but…”

Just when he was about to tell her she could work on explaining it, that he wouldn't rush her and he’d wait as long as she needed, he heard her deep breath, a soft melody to his ears. “On the couch, I didn’t leave because I liked being there with you.”

His heart hammered, throat clenched, the galaxy spun. “Nothing wrong with that. Pretty sure I liked it too, from what I can remember.”

“I didn’t tell you because I thought I'd lose you. If you knew the truth, if you knew that I liked it… why I liked lying there with you I could lose you and…”

He let her trail off, waited for her to say more. Didn’t seem like she could, though.

“I’m still here,” he said.

They both breathed, and thought, and waited.

“Jane,” he said, staring at that sad little blank screen. “Let me see you.”

The sound of rustling fabric caught his heart; blankets maybe, he hoped. Then her face appeared over his omni-tool, sad, tired, but beautiful, as always, nestled against a pillow. Like a star on the horizon, she brought warmth to his little world, just by existing. He couldn't hold back his flickering smile that forced its way through his fear and exhaustion.

Her room was dark save the soft blue light of an idle vidsrceen. Rocket’s tail lay across the bottom of the screen. Garrus imagined being in that room with her, nestled into her blankets, maybe this time he wouldn’t be at the foot of the bed.

But something made her frown.

“We have a very weird friendship,” she said. “You know that right? You see it? How weird and confusing this is.”

Finally, Garrus saw their relationship as plainly as outsiders saw it. It wasn’t confusing, not really; their feelings were clear as day.

“It’s more than friendship, though,” he said.

There was a quiver in her lip, but the hint of a smile inched out. That made so much sense, though. Saying it out loud was like tearing a splinter from a wound. It had to come out, though.

“So much more,” she agreed. Eyes glassy, her head tilted so that her little chin jutted out. She looked so soft, so vulnerable. He’d never seen her look like that before, not even lying in a hospital bed with a hole in her side. “I’ve tried, for so long, but I don’t think I can be just your friend anymore.”

“Good, because I don’t want to just be your friend either.”

A purr started in his chest at the sight of the sparkle he loved so much returning to her eyes. Could she hear it? The soft smile on her lips told him that she could.

Two years of ache, gone with two sentences.

“Don’t run from me again, though, okay?” he said. “Can you promise that?”

Hopefully she understood why. Hopefully she understood that the only person he’d ever loved ran from him once, over and over, crushing his heart and his dreams, and Jane running away would irreparably wreck him. He'd loved Cama dearly, but it was nothing compared to how he felt for Jane. His best days with Cama were outshined by his most mediocre days with Jane.

“Yeah,” she said. “I promise.”

A small hum came out of him, content, his heart mending just a little. “That’s all I need.”

“Is it about time for us to stop hiding things from each other?” she asked, still hesitant and unsure. “We have to be more honest?”

“Yeah, I think so. You ready for that?”

“I think we have to be, both of us.” She kneaded her lips, then dragged her blunt upper teeth over her bottom lip. She could be touch starved too, maybe that’s why she’d been biting and kneading her lips so much lately: just to feel something.

“But, maybe it’ll be okay,” her wispy voice was filled with hope. It gave him hope.

He nodded, so full of affection for her his chest swelled. “It will be.”

Spirits, she was beautiful. The words sat on his tongue, but they'd come so far and he didn’t want this to crumble in his hands because he was holding on too tight. It didn’t seem like they had gained much, because they’d exchanged just a few words, but he felt the ground shift beneath their feet; and in her eyes, he saw that she felt it too.

When the ground felt less shaky he’d tell her that she was the most beautiful woman alive, but he couldn't just let her keep thinking she wasn't beautiful.

“You don’t look bad. Not at all.”

She rubbed a hand over her face, forehead wrinkles shifting, fingers dragging over her puffy cheeks, and still she looked beautiful. “I look awful, but thank you for not caring.”

Rocket walked into view, stood still in front of her face, and flicked his tail smacking her mouth. She nudged him forward onto her pillow then picked a hair from her lip and scowled.

She nestled deeper into her pillows, not because she was comfortable, but because she wanted the comfort. He knew the distinction. He always saw the difference in her scowl when her coffee was cold versus bitter. The difference between an anxious yawn and a tired yawn. A happy scrunched nose and an annoyed scrunched nose.

How in the hell had he missed this, though? Everything he yearned for but convinced himself couldn’t exist, just sitting right there. She seemed to be aching as bad as him, too.

He ached to hold her, to lie by her and feel her soft, warm body pressed to his. In his head he only had pieces of that night lying on his couch, and he wanted them all, every second that she’d been in his arms.

“I remembered, you know,” he said.

The breath she took was short, sharp.

”Little pieces from that night. I just didn’t know it was real. Didn’t think it could be , but I kept having these thoughts…”

“I know I should have just told you. If I had…”

He saw the conflict playing in her mind, coming through as tension in her eyes. Without asking, Garrus knew how Jane felt because he’d been feeling it too, all night: the realization, the sadness, regret, of a special moment eclipsed by secrecy and fear, and suddenly it wasn’t just that night sleeping with her on his couch that he wanted back, but every missed moment of affection that had shined between them. How many had they lost?

Spirits, they’d been so oblivious. A keen stuck in his throat, held down only by a soft laugh. She laughed too, didn’t even ask why he laughed, just joined in.

When their laughs died down, she said, “It was real. Lying together. And it was probably the best night of my life.”

“So far.” When she quirked her questioning brow, he added, “I think we can do much better.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkled brighter than ever.

“Well, yeah. Both of us being lucid will be a big improvement.”

“Garrus.” Her sweet, soft voice saying his name made him melt, and then with a roll of humor, she added, “I’m pretty sure neither of us have been fully lucid for a long time now.”

She laughed, and he laughed, and all felt right. Or, as right as it could be that night, until they were more awake and less frazzled, and had time to talk. Really talk.

With the case to manage at work tomorrow, and the banquet in the evening, when would they have time to talk, though?

“I wish I could come see you now,” he said, “but…”

She yawned.

“...you need a good night’s sleep,” he finished with an amused, affectionate hum.

“Yeah, and we have the banquet tomorrow night. We should rest.”

He nodded. “See you for coffee in the morning?”

“You going to ditch me again?”

“You going to grope me in public again?” he asked playfully.

Her lips curved in a mischievous grin right before she tucked her nose in her covers and her eyes sparkled above the line of her blanket. “Only when you want me to.”

A surprised, rolling chuckle came out of him. His brain filled with thoughts of her wandering hands, her delicious touch sneaking across his body, her lips on his skin, her breath on his throat. Her kneeling between his feet, looking up at him, her mouth inches from his thighs.

He chittered, and his voice hung embarrassingly low when he said, “You expect me to fall asleep after that?”

She looked far too proud for someone who just ruined a man’s chance at falling asleep peacefully. She raised those talented little fingers and waved at him. “I’ll buy your coffee tomorrow. Night, Garrus.”

“Night, Jane.”

They hung up, and he shifted his hips, thinking that he should have called her brat instead of Jane, which didn’t slow the pulse between his thighs at all.

Spirits .

## Genesis

Chapter Summary

> On the first day there was handholding

Chapter Notes

> Songs: Genesis, Grimes; I Belong in Your Arms, Chairlift

> Big thank you to WesternLarch, DiaphanousO, and Dulcidyne for the extra set of eyes and advice on this one.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It’s a rare thing to wake up inherently happy. Before a single thought emerges, your body feels it. Garrus woke up purring, wrapped in soft blankets, visions of Jane's bright green eyes and tousled hair pulsing through a slumberous haze.

His first thought told him to shove those visions in a box. His second thought came quickly after, telling him to let the thoughts flow freely, because Jane had them too.

Jane. Teasing eyes and hot breaths and exploring fingers and bright, infectious happiness. His purr thickened and he stretched, muscles trembling with energy. He could touch her, he could put his hands on her without pretending it didn’t light every nerve in his body on fire. His rippling chuckle sounded slightly delirious, and wholly happy.

Heat gathering at his seam made him flex his ankles, roll his hips, languid shifts that woke his body and made it buzz.

While contemplating lying in bed just a few more minutes he got a message from Jane. Menace , it said along with a picture of Rocket mid-jump off the headboard towards the mattress.

Get out of bed, Garrus messaged her. You have coffee to buy me.

The next message was a picture of her, toothbrush spearing from her mouth, white foam gathered at the corner of her smiling lips. He saved it to his omnitool because she looked beautiful, and pulled himself out of bed.

Are you out of bed yet? her next message asked.

He sent her a picture of his bare feet atop bathroom tile, then received a picture of her bare foot, ankle gently bent, toes curled. It wasn’t clear why she sent him that image, because she already proved she was awake, but he swore that ankle was going to be in his palm soon. Maybe that’s why she sent it: to give him thoughts . He saved that picture too.

Subvocals turning, he stepped into the steam-filled shower and under the water. Steam stoked his sensitive skin like hot breath on a summer night. He wondered what it would be like to have Jane in there with him, but even a brief image of her naked body under running water made the muscles tighten from his abdomen to thighs, so he pushed that thought out of his mind, not because it was off limits, but because he had to be at the coffee shop in thirty-five minutes.

Water ran down his back, over his ass, down his thighs, stirring up the heat already pulsing through him. Surely he’d been more turned on before, at some point in his life, but he couldn't think of a single instance.

Spreading soap over his throat, then his nape, the memory of Jane's hand stroking him there pushed a soft moan from his mouth.

He reached his hand down his keel, over his tight stomach thinking of Jane’s hot breath falling over his mouth. His seam ached. He checked the time, whispered fuck it to himself, flipped the soap bar to it’s spot on the shelf and reached his hand down, teasing his finger against the ache, excited by the feel of his finger sliding in the slickness, by his swollen, keenly sensitive skin. He could think about her. Countless occasions before she’d sneak into his mind while he tried to take care of himself. He’d push her out, sometimes struggling so hard that he had to stop, go clean his gun or fix a squeaky door. Better not to come at all than to come with his best friend on his mind.

But that boundary dissipated last night.

It was dizzying at first, like getting a wish and you’re not sure what to ask for. There were so many things he wanted to imagine while he ran his finger over his parting seam. Her neck, waist, wrist. Her thighs. Spirits what would her thighs feel like grasping his hips. What look would be in her eyes as he lowered his hips and she let his weight press her into the mattress.

They’d hold that same darkness they did when she was at his feet, on her knees, looking up at him, her hands running over his ankles to loosen the leather straps holding him to that cross. His cock pressed free and he wrapped his palm around it, moaning and imagining Jane moan. What would it take to make her moan for him? Trailing his tongue up her thigh? Bending her over a counter to see her long back stretched out, pressing himself against her and feeling her part her legs for him?

He stroked himself with images of everything he wanted to do with Jane, do to Jane, flickering through his mind. Each image, each imagined sound she’d make, bringing him closer, and closer, embarrassingly quickly.

At the edge, he thought about her head tilted back, his hand gripping the column of her neck and how he wanted to burst inside her, his face buried in the curve of her neck, her limbs holding him tight, his cock buried deep inside her

His muscles clenched, skin sang, body vibrated with blissed-out subvocals, surging pleasure ramming at the gates, all his senses prickling. He came, quick, hard, holding his breath.

He stilled his hand. He huffed, and smiled, and sank against the shower wall. His muscles shivered for a moment before the water warmed the last of the tension away.

Not an inch of him ready to untether from his high, he stood still beneath the water with his still-hard cock resting in his loose hand as pleasure receded from his stomach, his limbs, taking every blissful prick firing through his bloodstream with it. In wake of those pricks was the memory of a feeling he’d chase again, over and over, but with her beneath him, limbs wrapped around his body, every inch of her open to him.

He picked up the soap again, humming to himself the melody of a song he’d loved as a teenager. A quick glance at the time told him Jane would probably beat him to the coffee shop, but that was okay. He wouldn't have to wait

***

The sight of Garrus’s tall frame stepping into the coffee shop entrance, hips swaying confidently, smile gently parting his mandibles, eyes locked on hers, shook a thousand petals loose inside Jane’s sternum. Yesterday she would have scrambled to gather them up but today she let them drift. The things she’d admitted last night, the way he’d admitted things too. This. This is what her Papa’s soul songs were talking about, and what she waited for her whole life: feelings that shook your bones, rattled through your limbs, made your heart ache.

“Hey,” he said, sliding in next to her while closing his jacket’s fastener at his sternum. He felt closer than any moment before. He looked down at her like he had a dozen clandestine thoughts running through his head. The dreamy warmth in his voice gave at least one away. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” she said, her fingers buzzing to reach out and touch him. Anywhere. “You?”

He smiled wide; maybe because he also found it amusing, and weird, that on the surface they were acting so incredibly normal, when underneath words and urges simmered.

A note pinged on her omnitool, an incoming message that made her scowl.

“Dammit, they’re trying to bump me from my flight. Stupid C-Sec pricing perk. I hate playing this game every time I fly back to Earth, waiting for them to bounce me from one flight to the next so they can sell my cabin for a higher price.”

She looked up at him. Just as their eyes met his hand rose to her face, and before she could guess what he was doing his thumb and middle finger pinched at her nose. He drew his hand away, thumb wedged between his fingers, displaying it proudly for her.

“I took your nose.”

She giggled and went to bat his hand. The back of hers bumped the heel of his, their palms sliding together, fingers entangling. She didn’t dare giggle again even though one burst at her seams because the breath held in her lungs might just be her last, so she held both in.

“Like your papa does when you’re sad.”

All she could do was nod and savor the feeling of his palm pressed to hers.

While they smiled at each other their arms dropped to their sides, hands still holding tight. It felt like falling into bed, like tumbling into a dream.

She nearly asked if this was real. She traced the events of yesterday: telling him about the couch, his anger simmering as he sat behind the wheel, her sitting at home numb and certain she’d lost her best friend while picturing him alone, angry, heartbroken because she’d hurt him so badly.

And then he’d called her. And just as she confessed her feelings, he confessed his own. His face on the screen smiling. His eyes adoring. And she saw it with her own eyes. Together they finally saw what their relationship truly was. “More than friendship” had played in her head as she drifted to sleep. Maybe because it sounded so sweet. Maybe because she had to let the words sink into her head, her heart, her bones.

More than friendship.

Standing at their coffee shop, his hand holding hers, it was still sinking in.

She wanted to climb right up him, rest in his arms, press her nose to his. Her heart told her to do it, but her head told her they had a case, there was still so much to talk about, and she’d already groped him in public once that week.

Coffees obtained, Garrus kept her hand firmly in his and led her out of the shop. Once outside he still didn’t let go, and that’s how they walked to work that morning, hand-in-hand, stealing looks at each other, sipping coffee, and not saying a single word. The route to their office was the same: past the morning-light-kissed lake, navigating busy sidewalks past offices and shops. Everything around them looked the same, but so incredibly, beautifully different because they were holding hands. She might have to lock herself in a bathroom stall once they got there and shake out all the energy bubbling up inside her.

Walking through the doors into Homicide, Garrus squeezed her hand and smiled down at her. “Long day ahead. I feel sorry for you.”

“Why?” she asked, curious and grinning, eager for his words.

“Going to be sitting at your desk imagining me in a formal suit all day.”

She laughed and narrowed her eyes. “Mm, I think it’s you who’s going to be thinking about what I’m going to wear.”

He didn’t deny it, just smiled at her.

They stopped at Garrus’s desk. It was time to let go of his hand, but god, she didn’t want to.

Nihlus glanced their way, eyes falling to their hands. An amused, yet uncharacteristically restrained, smirk flicked his mandible out. “Good morning,” he said, voice weighted with curiosity and most likely a dozen smartass things he wanted to say, but graciously wasn’t.

Garrus and Jane let go of each others’ hands, and Jane immediately looked forward to their next handholding stroll.

James sauntered over to his own desk across from Nihlus’s, whistling a tune with a food container in his hand that carried with it the smell of something absolutely delicious, vaguely like her favorite breakfast burrito place in San Francisco. He nodded in greeting to Nihlus, then looked at them.

“Garrus, Lola, buenos dias.”

Jane’s brows gathered. “Lola?”

Nihlus was a perpetually amused man with a constant smirk so devilish you’d think he possessed a secret he was eager to reveal, but in that moment, gazing across his desk to look at James, Nihlus’s face lacked even a sliver of amusement. “He’s a nickname guy,” he said slowly.

“Oh.” Jane fell into her chair, tapping a key to wake her console. “Don’t call me Lola. Unless you give me half of whatever’s in that box.”

James eyed Garrus thoughtfully. “I don’t have one for you yet. ‘Poste’ maybe.”

Garrus’s browplates gathered. “Post?”

“You’re tall and skinny, like a fence post.”

“He’s only a few inches taller than me,” Nihlus said.

Garrus accused Nihlus of being delusional with a cocked browplate. “I’m five inches taller than you.” He looked at James. “And I’m seven feet of honed muscle, not skinny .”

Jane snickered. Not that she didn’t agree with Garrus. He was toned, tall, and gorgeous and she’d have her hands on those muscles soon. But his vanity was cute.

“Listen, Poste’, I could wrap my hands around your waist and my fingers would touch, eh Lola?”

Jane’s eyes fell to that trim waist, imagining it bare, tight, her own hands wrapped around it, and had to take a quick breath to settle her rising pulse. She tore her eyes from Garrus’s body and looked at James. “One more ‘Lola’ and I’m taking the whole burrito.”

“Shit, you really want some? Homemade. Made the carnitas myself last night.”

Jane nodded, kicking her chair to James’s desk, her hand open and waiting.

James busted out a burrito the size of his forearm and halved it with a knife from his desk. “Nihlus doesn’t like his nickname either,” he said, handing half to Jane.

“What’s your nickname?” Garrus asked while Jane bit into the burrito and muttered an impressed and appreciative shit . It was the best burrito she’d had since leaving California.

James smiled at Garrus, a sly smile, not cheerful like typical. “Loco.”

Garrus inclined his head. “Fitting.”

“ Lola can think of a nickname for Garrus,” Nihlus said, that amused smirk back in full force.

She swallowed and chuckled as a nickname that would make Garrus blush, and was very fitting, came to mind. “Sweetcheeks.”

Garrus’s hands froze at his keyboard. His browplates rose. Jane met his stare and took another big bite of her burrito. Would he say something cocky, or would he blush and mumble a few words changing the subject? Seemed he wasn’t quite sure what to do. She had him silent and calculating, a very sexy look on him. God, why was it so fun to tease him? Provoke him until he was damn near ready to pounce.

“Stand up,” Jane said, “give everyone a look at those little honed muscles.”

She heard James and Nihlus laugh, but couldn’t take her eyes off Garrus because his head tilted ever so slightly, like in a sudden burst he might dart across their desks and pin her down.

“Alright, time to work,” Garrus drawled with the faintest hint of shyness under his tone, though based on the subtle flick in his mandibles he didn’t oppose the nickname, or that she was thinking about his ass. She’d have her hands on that ass soon. The sharp heat in his gaze indicated he was thinking about that, too.

James and Nihlus turned to their consoles, leaving Garrus and Jane to dive into their case.

Garrus relaxed in chair, leaning on an armrest and sipping his coffee. “We’ve got to get a solid piece of evidence nailed down before we can figure out how to proceed.”

“Hopefully we’ll hear back from James’s contact soon on the watch, unless you can think of anything else? We’re sure it’s the killer’s, and Adam wasn’t wearing it?”

Garrus brought up the evidence photos along with Adam’s autopsy report. “No way Adam could have been wearing it, the sizing is off — looks like the clasp where the strap attaches to the face broke, which is how it came off, but it was set to 184.26mm, and Adam’s wrist was 146.33mm.”

“How’s the vehicle search going?” she asked.

“The warrant got delayed for some crap legal reason.” Garrus looked as frustrated as she felt.

Perhaps thinking about Adam’s behavior and personality would lead to something. How did he wind up with a killer? Could he have made any decisions that put him in danger? “You know, I keep wondering...would he have gotten in the car willingly? Or did the killer grab him? Interviews describe him as kind, trusting, wanting to get to know people. You don’t think he could have just gotten in a skycar with a random person, do you?”

“I mean, kids do dumb crap all the time. Maybe somebody pulled up in a K-31 targeting him, the flashy skycar caught the kid’s eye, and he got in just because he thought it’d be exciting?”

“Could be. I don’t know though, I just don’t get the feeling he’d hop in a car with a stranger.” She rolled her head back, letting the tension in her shoulders release with a heavy sigh. They had fucking nothing...at least it felt that way. “Maybe it was a friend, or one of his parents’ friends?”

Garrus hummed, a sympathetic tone not committing to any opinion. “Lots of possibilities, no answers.”

“So. Where do we go from here? I can’t sit here all day postulating, it’ll drive me crazy.”

Garrus’s eyes warmed on her. “We just have to hope that the vehicle and watch lead us to the killer.” His voice was full of subtle optimism, which was usually the best his pessimistic-leaning mind could muster. “Let’s go over the timeline and interviews again while we wait for something to come in.”

Jane sunk down in her chair, eyeing the last few bites of the burrito. “I hate going over every minute detail on a timeline. That’s your stuff.”

Before Garrus could reply, an excited James said, “Might be saving you from that, Lola.”

Jane rolled her eyes at the nickname.

“My contact came through on the watch,” he said. “Sending you the info now.”

Jane and Garrus both popped forward in their chairs, fingers clicking quickly to find the name of the owner. Jane’s eyes snapped over the document. A name, they’d have a name. A lead.

It only took a few seconds before Garrus’s eyes went wide, a triumphant smile on his mandibles. “Got it.”

“Holy shit,” Jane muttered, finding the name just a breath after Garrus.

“Surprised? I’m not.”

“Racist doesn’t equal murderer.” Jane said.

“What did you get?” Nihlus asked.

Garrus sat forward, grabbing his pistol from a desk drawer. “One sold at auction three years ago to a buyer on behalf of Donnel Udina.”

***

At the Alliance embassy the elevator chimed, doors sliding open. Side by side, Jane and Garrus walked up to Ambassador Udina’s receptionist. They only had to wait a moment before the receptionist told them they could proceed to his office. Jane entered first with Garrus at her heel and from the moment Donnel’s eyes landed on them, his whole body bristled in agitation. His movements were jerky, his eyes restless. Could be a sign of guilt, or just that he despised the inconvenience of their visit.

“We won’t take much of your time, Ambassador.” Jane started, trying to set him at ease. “We just want to follow up with a few questions about Adam.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what else I can do for you.” A smooth slice cooled his voice. “I didn’t know the child well.”

Jane and Garrus’s eyes met, silently agreeing that a loving uncle would show more interest in helping investigators find the murdered. Well, he was at least self-possessed. Guilty of murder, though?

“Anything can help, sir,” Jane said. “What can you tell us about him? About your relationship with him?”

“Nothing, really. Perhaps if he had grown, we would have had more in common and I would have spent more time with him. As it is…” He trailed off without finishing to the obvious conclusion that Adam’s death would prevent that from happening. She watched him, trying to find any inkling that Donnel liked his nephew, or felt bad about his death. No sign of warmth or affection came through, though. Not in his voice or his mannerisms, and certainly not in his words.

“Can you tell us anything about his interests? Cool cars, technology, sports?” Garrus asked.

“I really don’t know,” Donnel replied impatiently, side-eyeing Garrus and most certainly thinking about the toothy smile Garrus gave him when they first met.

“Did you like your nephew, sir?” Jane asked.

Donnel’s head snapped from Garrus to Jane. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one,” Jane answered. “You don’t have to like a child. If you didn’t, it’s fine to admit it. We’re homicide detectives, not the morality police, and all I care about is solving this case.” And putting away the sick asshole who stole Adam’s breath, his life, his future.

Garrus stepped closer to Donnel and brought up his omni-tool, selecting and displaying an image. Suddenly they were all staring at the watch, but not the image of it from the crime scene, it was an image attached to the purchase record.

“This watch belongs to you, doesn’t it?” Garrus asked, his voice clearly telling Donnel he was sick of fucking around.

Donnel flinched, his steely eyes brimming with wild energy.

“That…” Donnel sputtered, then froze, watching them for a moment as he seemed to size up the situation. “What is this? You’re trying to frame me for something.”

“No one’s framing you, sir.” Garrus said, a hint of condescension in his voice. “We received records this morning that this watch belongs to you. A sales record from London. And you’ve listed it amongst your valuables in an insurance rider every year since buying it. Last form filed was…” Garrus looked down at his omni-tool, “Ten weeks ago. No sales record since.”

“Yes, yes. It’s mine. What is this about?”

“We have reason to believe the owner of this watch may have information regarding Adam’s death, but hasn’t been forthcoming with that information.” Jane squared her shoulders and sharpened her eyes at Donnel. “And that would be you, sir.”

“This is ridiculous. I don’t know anything.”

“Well maybe we can clear this all up then,” Garrus said, feigning an understanding tone, like he just wanted to help Donnel out. “Where’s the watch?”

“I’m certain it’s in my safe at home,” Dennel’s voice wavered. “When I’m home this evening I’ll check. Now if that’s all—”

Jane cut him off. “See, that’s not going to help us out. Because we know where the watch is, and it’s not at your home.”

Donnel’s teeth ground and jowls quivered. “You had better watch your tone. I can have you sent back to Earth.”

Funny that he thought he had that kind of power.

“Let’s say the watch was found in a place that connects it to Adam, in a very suspicious manner,” Jane said. “How does that change your story?”

“He…” Donnel sputtered, his eyes darting between Jane and Garrus. “Adam had it? Maybe...he stole it.” His eyes flashed, betraying his racing thoughts. They both waited for him to continue talking. Waiting for him to say something really bad for him, and good for their case. “That little bastard always was rooting around my house, always sneaking off. I’d find him lurking in rooms all by himself.”

“Well that just doesn't make much sense, Donnel,” Garrus said, leaning back against Donnel’s desk. “We have several interviews stating Adam was not interested in expensive things, or in mechanics or engineered objects, or fashion pieces. We also know that he was an extremely kind, gregarious kid...so painting him out to be a sneaky kleptomaniac just doesn’t line up.”

“Any other theories that might help us put this all together, though?” Jane asked, not quite managing to match Garrus’s calm tone.

Donnel glared at her, thinking to himself for far too long before he finally said, “I’m afraid I can’t help you any further. You’ve wasted my time, and your deficient investigation skills will leave my brother indefinitely wondering who killed his son.”

Donnel turned in a flash, subjecting the Presidium skyline to his glare instead of Jane and Garrus, which was fine with Jane, she’d been suffering his sour face long enough to paint a picture of it. They had him. They had something. She wasn’t sure what, yet, but they’d work it out.

“You two had better leave. Now,” Donnel snapped.

“We’re going to send a few officers to your home,” Jane said while walking towards the door. They’ll look over the area where you kept the watch, look for fingerprints and interview anyone who had access to it. We’ll follow up once they’ve completed their sweep.”

“And let us know if you come up with a viable explanation for how that watch wound up connected to your dead nephew,” Garrus added.

Donnel didn't look at them, didn’t even respond, just continued to stare out at the Presidium.

“Have a good day, sir,” Jane called out as Garrus pushed away from the desk and joined her at the door.

They walked out together, silent, until they reached the elevator. Jane tried to remain composed, tried to tell her fists not to clench into little balls and told her brain not to think of punching something. “We should probably tell Pallin we’re coming to brief him right now.”

“Think Donnel’s on the phone this very moment complaining about us?”

Jane answered with a quick nod. It was silent in the elevator as the floors ticked by.

“Think he did it?” Garrus asked.

After thinking over all the evidence she shook her head. “I don’t know. What’s the motive? He has a shaky alibi being at home with his wife that night, but that doesn’t mean much. And what about the biotic evidence on Adam’s body?” They had a link, but everything wasn’t lining up on it. “We just need more.”

***

Back at C-Sec they received a lecture from Pallin but got the go ahead to search Donnel’s home. Jane went straight over to the Ward Attorney’s office to press for an emergency warrant granting them search and seizure while he and Nihlus ate lunch.

Just a few hours and he’d be getting ready for the banquet. Ready to spend the evening with Jane at the banquet. Ready to dance with Jane at the banquet. He chewed slowly, that good old sniper mind keeping him calm despite the riot wanting to burst through.

“So, have any plans for how you’re going to play this tonight?” Nihlus said, his voice calm enough to settle some of Garrus’s thoughts.

A plan would be beneficial, wouldn’t it. He’d been stumbling around her for years. Some intention would make this all so much easier. “Guess I’ll have to figure out how to start flirting with Jane.”

Nihlus’s browplates knotted up so tight Garrus thought he’d sprouted a second set of mandibles.

“What? It’s not weird to start flirting—”

After swallowing, Nihlus breathed in slow and deep, his nose plates flaring. “ Start ?” You two have been flirting for years.”

Garrus scoffed. “We have not—”

Nihlus shook his head. “You have to think bigger, because flirting like two pantals in heat has gotten you nowhere.”

Garrus had no words, but he didn’t need them, because his wide mandibles made his surprise and denial obvious.

“I’ve seen you tickle her more in the past two weeks than I’ve gotten laid.”

Doubtful.

“We just—”

“Sometimes when I’m bored I count how many times she calls you handsome in a day. The record’s seven.”

“She’s just joking—”

It wasn’t Nihlus’s words that cut Garrus off that time, but the dead heat in his stare, hot enough to make Garrus stop and reflect for a moment. The tickling. The hand he kept at her back. Her frequent and outrageously flattering comments. The way he melted every time she smiled, and the way she blushed everytime he melted.

Hm.

“Your subvocals are buzzing right now,” Nihlus said.

Spirits, they were.

“Shut up, Nih.”

“You were holding hands when you walked in this morning, for fuck’s sake, G.”

“The hand holding was new.” The memory of Jane’s soft little hand in his gave him a smile he couldn't contain. “Everything before that is just…It’s called platonic affection, you wouldn’t know what that’s like because all you can think about when you’re near an attractive person is sex.”

“That’s not true. I’ve never once thought about having sex with you.” Nihlus smirked. “Although I have considered marrying you, because you desperately need someone to take care of you.”

“I’d never marry you, or have sex with you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not into all that kink.”

Nihlus shrugged. “Jane’s loss. You looked good strapped up on my cross.”

Garrus threw an empty wrapper at Nihlus.

Nihlus laughed, catching the wrapper as it bounced off his keel, then threw it into the waste bin. “Maybe I should offer to loan my cross to Jane. She can strap you down until you relax a little.”

“I could make you disappear, you know. No one would find you.”

“You’d never kill me.”

“Oh I won’t kill you,” Garrus said coolly. “I’ll keep you alive.”

Nihlus only laughed, and Garrus laughed too, before continuing, “I’ll keep you up on that cross of yours for days. Weeks maybe. It’s a fitting torture for you. Ruin what you love most.”

“You’re truly sadistic, you know. More than I’ve ever been, which is saying a lot.” Nihlus’s smile faded, stern eyes taking over. “Seriously, though, only leave someone on a cross for an hour, hour and a half max, any longer and it’s bad for blood flow.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.” He had no plans to use sex furniture anytime soon. Although, the heat that had darkened Jane’s eyes when he was strapped down might make him consider it. Someday.

“Might want to try the electric wand first, though. She has a care kink, which was an interesting surprise, to her too I think.”

Garrus was still pissed at Nihlus about that. With her delicate bent wrist resting in his hand he’d expected her to snap at Nihlus too, just like he had, but her dazed eyes had focused on Garrus’s face the whole time. Dammit, Nihlus was probably right.

“I can’t think about that right now,” Garrus mumbled, his thoughts about Jane and how to move things forward with her spinning until all he could picture was blurs of her smiles and his hands, and his chest felt heavy but also light. He shook his head, worried he’d do something really stupid at the banquet and mess up the chance he’d been hoping for. “Spirits, Nih, I’m not sure I’m ready for tonight.”

***

Hours later, warrants granted, Garrus stood across from Jane by the skycar port. They had to go their separate ways to get ready. They’d see each other in an hour but that didn’t make it easy for him to take his eyes off her. She didn’t look away either.

“So,” Garrus finally said, “what are you wearing?”

She hesitated for a split second, then glanced down at herself and said, “Um, white shirt, black pants, work boots—”

“Smart-ass,” he said affectionately.

She rocked on her heels. “What are you wearing?”

“A formal suit,” he replied simply.

“What color suit?”

“Black.”

“Why not blue?”

Brat , he called her with narrowed eyes and a flick of his mandible.

Well, he could play games too. He gave her a look that would make her knees weak: a confident smile and a smoldering gaze. “Black makes my colony markings pop,” he purred. “Why? You wanna see me in blue?”

With the widest grin she turned away from him to stare at the traffic zipping by. Headlights flashed over her, giving her hair the effect of dancing flames. “Makes sense,” she said like her tone was balancing on a beam.

The blush on her cheeks. The grin too wide to hold in. That was for him, because of how she felt for him and what he could do to her with some simple teasing. He had the sudden urge to provoke her further, make her burst for him, admit everything she felt in that moment not because he couldn't guess what she felt, simply because he wanted to hear it spoken.

“I’ll wear blue for you next year,” he said. He adjusted his tone, direct and deep, to rein in the brat inside her. “Now, what are you wearing?”

She bit her lip and he swore he’d give her the touch she begged for, he’d let her brush those lips over any inch of his body she wanted. When she finally looked back at him, her chin dipped shyly. “Maybe it can be a surprise,” she mumbled with a soft breath that made his heart swell right up against his keel.

He imagined her in a dress. A dress holding tight to every curve, or with a cutout at the small of her back, or cut low beneath the line of her clavicle. Imagining wasn’t enough, he wanted a perfect image painted in his mind. “What kind of dress?”

“How do you know I’m wearing a dress? Been stalking me?”

Even though that was only a playful comment, not an actual question, guilt flooded through him. “Honesty from now on, right?” he started. “It may not have been an accident that I walked past when you were on that date.”

Her head cocked, and her smile faded just slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Guessed where you might go based on what you told me, and I…”

“You walked past just to peek at me on that horrible date?” She didn’t seem angry, just surprised, and a little embarrassed, though she had no reason to be; it was his misstep.

“Well I went to get dinner, and thought I might catch a glimpse, so maybe, yeah.”

“Garrus,” she chided, but her smile didn’t completely go away, it just turned to a lop-sided smirk. Still beautiful. Still affectionate for him. “What were you hoping to see? Other than me wishing I had an invisibility cloak so I could sneak out.”

“I hated that you went on that date.”

“I hated it too, every second. You should have asked me instead. On a date.”

“You would have said yes?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“I should have,” he agreed.

He nearly took the two strides to scoop her up, but his omnitool chimed, a message from his dad making sure Garrus was still going to meet them at their apartment. A skycar pulled up and Jane took a step towards it.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry. For acting so stupid for the past…well, years.”

Garrus shoved his hands in his pockets. “Been that long for you too?”

She nodded, and he smiled. He’d get her in his arms later. At any point that day he could have asked her to the banquet as his date, made it official, and it seemed a bit late now that she was about to crawl into a skycar. But…

He pictured her in a dress. The color didn’t matter, only that she’d walk up to him and he’d buy her a drink and he’d be looking into the eyes of the woman he might spend the rest of his life with. They’d know that they were standing at the precipice of something cataclysmically good.

“Meet me at the bar?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, giving him a smile that warmed every inch of his body, then slid into the skycar.

Chapter End Notes

> Thanks for reading, and for the kudos and comments. I'm thankful for each and every one ❤️

## Pulse: Part One

Chapter Summary

> Garrus finds his nerve, and Jane forgets how to breathe

Chapter Notes

> Oh gosh, it feels like so long since I posted. Nervously sweating over here. Thanks for sticking around if you've been hoping for an update! My apologies if this reads rough or is littered with mistakes -- I'm a bit rusty :)

> I don't usually advise that you read previous parts of this series, but I do think reading Come to Me from Follow My Yellow Light before this chapter makes it more special.

> Ok, banquet chapter here we come!

> Song I had on loop: Happiness is a Butterfly, Lana Del Rey

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hope. The feeling thumping a steady beat against Jane’s ribs, making her body feel both heavy and light, both anxious and calm. That was hope. Not a hope built on guesses, but on Garrus’s solid hand holding hers that very morning, and on the words he spoke to her the night before. More than friends .

In a skycar that zipped through busy traffic Jane refrained from biting at her painted red lips. She’d made so many mistakes — lying to Garrus, impulsively flirting with him, clumsily groping him. At the banquet, she’d let Garrus take the lead.

Time alone would be nice. While slipping on her dress, she had realized more than friends was a ridiculously vague statement. But talking about what that meant to both of them would be impossible while surrounded by his family and hundreds of colleagues. Maybe they could talk after. At the banquet, they’d just have to let that question hang between them.

Jane slid a foot out the skycar door, her heel clicking against a marble garden paver, and looked up at Quinticus Hall where C-Sec held their annual banquet. The imposing building stood proudly between Auxua School of the Arts and Gaerun Botanical Gardens. Some would call it old fashioned, but Jane appreciated the traditional design. Tall vertical windows, stacked pediments of ornate geometric patterns, and jutting spires made Quinticus Hall seem taller and more impressive than the sleek asari and salarian architecture in the district.

Statues of nearly-naked turians flanked Jane as she navigated through groups of officers, investigators, and administrators talking about cases and crime rates. The stone behemoths peered down at her in dramatic, arresting poses — reaching arms, strong torsos, angled legs, fierce ancient weapons in hand. At their feet sat flower beds with silvery-green and aubergine hued plants set in neat, symmetrical patterns, and in between each statue stood a tree trimmed into compliance, its shape natural but perfected.

It was all so very turian.

Once past the front doors Jane stopped to settle the flitters in her stomach. The dress made her feel damn good – a deep green satin that complimented her freckled skin and red hair. It clung to her curves, with a low neckline that swept beneath her collarbone and thin straps that clung to the balls of her shoulders. When she’d purchased it a few weeks ago she chose it specifically for the features that a turian would find alluring, only hoping that Garrus would see her wearing it and think of her as beautiful. His teasing at the skycar port lit an urgent desire in her to wear it for him, to get a reaction out of him.

To know that he wanted her with every cell in his body.

After some glances she found the bar to her right, tucked into a corner past clusters of chatting people. Her heart thumped. She negotiated the slick stone floor like a cautious stork. Careful, slow steps. The dress was sexy, but comfortable. The shoes were incredibly sexy and not comfortable at all. They were about three inches past the point of “I can totally walk like a normal person”, but they were tall, which would get her closer to Garrus, and the supple leather straps crossing atop her foot and wrapping around her ankle kindled images of being tenderly bound.

Approaching the bar she couldn't see Garrus. Maybe he wasn’t there yet. Maybe she couldn’t spot him amongst the crowd because her nerves pounded through her system and her eyes refused to see anything other than shapes and blurs.

She heard him before she saw him, his familiar, smokey voice traveling into her as he said, “Damn, Jane.”

Smooth. Sultry. It came from behind. His voice always took on some supernatural power to warm her from the inside out. It reached out, grabbed her around her chest and stomach, pulled her in, made her body ache, her breath hold. She turned.

Casually leaning against the bar in a black suit that cut against him in all the right places he looked like an absolute rake with a confident grin, a half-empty glass in hand, and eyes that drank her in. A little sigh snuck from the top of her tight throat.

“ Definitely worth the surprise,” he said. Stepping closer she caught a brief moment where his eyes widened with a smitten wonder and his always-steady right hand trembled so that the ice cube in his horosk bobbed, only once. As he stood his rakish charm returned as if it had never slipped. “Even better than I imagined.”

She shrugged, even though it felt like her heart was melting straight down, gathering behind her sternum into a little pool, making it hard to breathe.

He picked up a second drink from the bar and came to her. When he handed her the icy glass he brushed his warm finger against her pinky.

“Yeah?” was all she could think to say.

He glanced down, taking a long second to look at her again, from head to toe. “The dress is nice,” he said with his eyes catching on her throat. “And the shoes…”

His pause spoke less to an unfinished thought, and more to a suggestive promise.

“Glad you like them.” She lifted a foot, bent her ankle to show them off. “They’re incredibly hard to walk in.”

Staring down at her bent ankle he got a hot, sharp look in his eye, like he wanted to run his finger under one of the smooth straps, but he stood vigilantly still. She ran her hand along his arm, feeling the stiff fabric, sneaking a feel of the solid muscle beneath. “Nice suit. A bit tight.”

His sharp gaze rose from her ankle to her eyes. “I’ll have my tailor let it out.”

She spoke softly. “Don’t you dare.”

He felt an inch closer.

Thick tension sat in his wide shoulders and in his tight neck that was angled to look down at her. Heat lapped up her spine, through every bone in her body. Why did that predacious look haunting his eyes always make her feel like turning and running, just so he’d chase her?

He reached out, his hand hovered for only a small moment before his bent finger landed on her hip, tracing the curve upwards to her waist, the back of his talon whispering through thin satin to tease her skin. His hand lifted and hovered again for just a moment before he buried it in his pocket.

His hands had been on her before, but never like that. Never in a way that unquestionably defined her body as something to be seen by him, something to be touched by him.

She took a sip. Whiskey burned her tongue.

Through the burr of chatter and clinking glasses she heard Nihlus, his voice barely reaching her senses. “Think we should say something? Or should we keep staring at them until they notice us?”

Taking her eyes off Garrus was like tearing a flame apart.

Nihlus filled out his dashing charcoal suit like a palae player, with solid muscle and merciless confidence. Clinging to his arm was Kasumi in a slinky silver gown, her hair in a long, loose braid that fell over her shoulder. They made a striking pair.

“We were having a bit of a private moment, Nih,” Garrus said.

“Mm, very private, with hundreds of people here watching.”

“I only see two people with a peculiar desire to surveil their friends. Garrus’s impatience was clear, but there was a joking flicker in his mandible, which made Nihlus grin.

“Come on.” Kasumi tugged Nihlus’s arm. “Spying on people is only fun when you’re out of sight.” She gave Garrus and Jane a wink, and they left.

Together Jane and Garrus watched Nihlus and Kasumi amble to the dance floor. They watched Kasumi melt into Nihlus’s arms, watched him pull her closer. The moment that Garrus asked Jane to dance in her kitchen six months ago slipped into her mind. When she’d wrapped her arms around his shoulders the light in his eyes had danced with affection. He’d been so happy holding her.

Jane had always felt a desperate urge to make Garrus happy, in whatever way she could. While standing at his side, looking up at his yearning face, she finally understood that she had the power to make him the happiest man in the galaxy — all she had to do was give him the one thing she’d been holding out of his reach: her.

“Do you—” Jane began to say, but out of nowhere Sol swooped in front of them with a stern expression aimed solely at Garrus.

“Still hiding your mate from us?” Jane asked, peering around dozens of bodies to look for said mate.

“She’s talking to Mom and Dad over there. I snuck over to tell Garrus to,” Sol clicked her talons together in Garrus’s direction, “ behave himself .”

Garrus’s browplates lifted up in a taunting fashion.

“Behave tonight,” Jane told him and nodded at the thank you look in Sol’s eyes.

“Sol deserves it, you only know about half the crap she’s done to embarrass me on dates.”

“Still not over the time I showed your bootcamp sweetheart your naked drawings?”

Jane chuckled.

With the composure of a man who’d endured a lifetime of harassment at the hands of his little sister, Garrus turned away from Sol to look at Jane, his bright eyes simmering with affection. She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “They were tasteful,” he said.

“Of course.” Her silly grin persisted. “Erotica, not smut.”

“Exactly. You've never properly appreciated art, Sol. I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Just remember that I’m incredibly good at embarrassing you. You will date again someday, and I can pay you back for anything you say to Liara tonight.”

“Yeah that doesn’t scare me. Between you and Nihlus, Jane’s already heard everything.”

Sol’s head whipped to the side and she flapped her hands at them signaling for them to shut up in the most obvious attempt at trying to be discreet. An ear-rattling trill erupted from her. Jane didn’t even need to look to know that Sol had just caught sight of her mate, who was probably making her way over.

Despite Sol’s paroxysm, Jane’s attention went back to Garrus’s confident implication that he was dating Jane, or would be dating her. He’d said it so casually, so confidently that it caught Jane off guard. He must have noticed because he gave her a hopeful, unguarded look, as if asking if he’d made a misstep. Of course they had to talk, but any worry that Garrus’s feelings might not match her own dissipated.

Jane pressed herself up against him, the warmth of his body offering even more assurance.

With his parents and Liara approaching, but still out of earshot, Jane asked, “They weren’t tasteful drawings were they?”

Garrus took Jane’s hand. In a sliver of space between their bodies their palms pressed together, fingers tangled and tensed. His knuckles skimmed her thigh. It felt thrilling, sharing that furtive act of intimacy with him in such a public space.

“Of course they were,” he said. “Very tasteful smut.”

Jane hid her grin in his arm and a happy purr thrummed in his chest.

As if they hadn’t just seen each other at dinner last week, Castis and Val gave Jane and Garrus warm hellos. Sol’s mate drifted to her side like a wayward vessel finding its dock.

For the past few months Sol had already giddily shown off pictures of Liara, so her big, bright eyes and shy smile already felt familiar.

“Liara.” Excitement emanated from Sol. “This is Garrus and Jane.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you both,” Liara said with a voice just as gentle as her smile. “I’ve heard so much about you, from Sol of course, but from Castis and Valeria as well. You’re partners.”

“Yeah,” Jane answered.

“And how long have you been together?”

“Five years,” Garrus answered.

Liara’s smile was subtle but kind. “Five years together? No wonder, you make a lovely couple.”

Surprised and slightly embarrassed chuckles came out of Garrus and Jane, his deeper and slower, hers bright and breathless. Jane thought very briefly of making a joke along the lines of ‘this is actually our first date’.

That’s something that Friend Jane would say, though, with a humorous glint in her voice and a playful smile. Even though his parents and sister were a second family, and she always felt comfortable with them, standing there in a tight dress with her hand discreetly resting in Garrus's, she didn’t feel like Friend Jane. She was Potential Girlfriend Jane.

It felt like there were two separate pieces of her, and she wasn’t sure how to be both.

Sol clutched Liara’s hand, petting it in quick strokes. “Oh spirits, no, zucca. They’re partners at C-Sec, not mates.” Her apologetic eyes flashed to Jane and Garrus. “They’ve been partners in the Homicide department for five years.”

Looking to Sol for reassurance, Liara’s wispy lashes flickered. “I apologize. It’s just the way everyone in the family talks, this whole time I’ve thought you were life partners as well, a couple. I misunderstood.”

Val said helpfully, breezily, “It’s an easy mistake. They’re connected at the keel.”

Looking from Garrus to Jane, Castis gave them a knowing grin. “Apparently by the hand as well.”

Everyone’s attention fell to the little gap of space between Garrus’s thigh and Jane’s hip where their hands hung, folded together.

Jane expected surprise, or confusion, but she only saw excitement and happiness in their faces, which left her surprised and confused.

Saying something was probably necessary, but all Jane could do was stand awkwardly still. Her nose scrunched and she had the urge to dig her toe into the floor but that would scuff her shoes.

“Maybe the fact that you two are so comfortable touching each other leads some to make incorrect conclusions about the nature of your relationship,” Sol said.

She had a point. What was the distinction between Garrus’s hand constantly resting on her back and their holding hands? Jane had no answer. One had been an aspect of their friendship, and the other an indication of something romantic developing. Maybe it had always seemed that they were more than friends. Maybe at the moment it seemed they were still just friends.

For the second time that night, people melted to shapes and blurs in Jane’s vision. Garrus’s scent grounded her; an herb garden bathed in sunshine, warmth, comfort.

“Not to show off my deduction skills,” Garrus drawled, taking shape amongst the blurs, “but sounds like Liara came here thinking we’re mates. Seeing as how Jane and I have never met her, that has more to do with you than what we’re doing right now.”

Sol looked like she had an exasperating itch she wasn’t allowed to scratch. With only a slight edge of dogged bite in her voice she asked, “What are you doing right now?”

“Holding hands,” Garrus said.

Jane downed the rest of her drink and Garrus only offered his family a blithe smile.

An amiable waiter walked by and Jane ditched her empty glass on his half-full tray. Once her hand was free she pinched Garrus’s waist. He flinched and said ‘ ow’ through a chuckle.

As if Jane and Garrus were spectacles on a stage, everyone’s eyes clung to them: Castis’s amused, Val’s excited, Sol’s impatiently waiting, and Liara’s just plain confused. There were a dozen things Jane could say, but none of them felt like the right thing, and all of them would make her blush. Why exactly did her feelings for Garrus make her lose all neural activity and nerve?

Castis, being a saint and more composed than anyone else standing there, broke the silence. “How’s the case coming along?”

Slow. Discovering that the watch belonged to Donnel seemed like a small step, and the search of his home was well underway, but hours into it they hadn’t found any evidence worthy of a message to her and Garrus.

Garrus, never eager to talk about work with his dad, looked over at the dance floor so Jane answered, “Fine.”

A single browplate rose on Castis’s calm face. He spotted lies and half-truths like Rocket sniffed out catnip. Before he could press Jane for more information, Val batted his arm with the back of her hand. “Stop, amar,” she said. “You can talk about work later, but not tonight.”

Amar, the most tender of turian endearments, reserved for a bondmate, the person you’d be with for life. Once bonded, most turians used the word freely to express their love, but Jane had never witnessed another couple use it so frequently, or with half as much affection.

Castis sweetly nuzzled his mouth against Val’s mandible before turning back to the conversation. “We’ll talk later. Breakfast, day after next.”

“Sounds great,” Jane said. “Heard about our visit to the Embassy?”

“I did.”

“Suppose the Council isn’t pleased,” Jane said, because she couldn’t help herself.

Castis’s head ticked to the side. “Your preternatural luck persists — he’s not well-liked.”

That was good to hear. The only thing worse than the media getting its claws in a case, was politicians. The Council wouldn't be inserting themselves in this one, and that was a blessing. “That evidence connected to him is big. It doesn’t look good for him.”

“No,” Castis said, appeasing an impatient Val with a loving hand to her shoulder, “it looks very bad.”

Garrus’s head snapped to Castis quick enough to give Jane second-hand whiplash. “Are you consulting on it?”

“No,” Castis said with a caring assurance that Jane registered, but Garrus didn’t, considering the way his gaze landed back on the dance floor, focusing on nothing in particular.

Just as Val, at her limit, gave them a warning click with her subvocals the chime rang to indicate dinner would be served. They moved to the dining tables and sat down, Garrus at his family’s table and Jane at one next to it. With his back to hers they were still close, but she missed the possibility of his touch.

***

The speech Castis gave while accepting his commendation was short, but gracious. From the podium he thanked his colleagues, said he was proud of his kids and their accomplishments, and with a tight voice nearly betraying his emotions he thanked Val for being at his side in spirit through all the hard days and long nights.

Castis returned to his table. As soon as he sat down he pressed his forehead to Val’s. She placed her hand on his mandible to ensure their connection lingered. It was an unabashedly tender basium in a very crowded room filled with the trailing end of polite claps.

For as long as Val and Castis shared that unabating basium Jane allowed herself to wonder what it might feel like if Garrus pressed his forehead to hers, wonder if a basium would feel as tender as Castis and Val’s looked, wonder if Garrus would ever want to share a basium with her.

Music started playing, something like light, springy jazz with strumming instruments and an easy melody. Some people drifted to the dance floor. Jane sat down, glad Garrus sat behind her and could’t see the sentimental look that had to be dancing in her eyes.

Maybe he had an equally sentimental look in his eyes. That silly little hope caused the corner of her mouth to tick up in a grin.

She felt a bump against the back of her chair. Then another.

Garrus.

She turned to him but he wasn’t even looking at her. Liara and Sol were passionately discussing the hiring of a new president at the university they both worked at, and Garrus was acting fascinated; unconvincingly, Jane thought, although Sol and Liara didn’t seem to mind.

Jane turned back to her table, picking up her fork to take the last bite of her cake but as soon as she dove in, there was another bump, making her fork clink against the plate. An asari officer across the table gave her a haughty stink face.

Because Jane was a confident, mature woman at a professional event she only gave a brief stink face back.

Jane turned to Garrus again, leaned closer to whisper, “You’re acting like a pyjack.”

He finally turned to face her, slowly, with a gorgeous smirk spreading his mandibles. “Oh hi, Jane. Need something?”

“Hello, Garrus. You seem to be bumping my chair.”

“I’m nowhere near your chair,” he said, so politely that it made her want to reach out and grab him, maybe kiss him. A kiss would wipe the satisfied grin off his face.

“We both know you can reach it.”

“You’re imagining things.” He propped his arm on the back of his chair, turning to focus on nothing but her.

“You miss me?” she accused over her bare shoulder.

“Always,” he said simply, softly.

She imagined she could feel his warm breath on her skin.

They hadn’t had a minute alone all night; suddenly all the people felt stifling. Even if they couldn't really talk, just a few minutes tucked into a secluded corner or alcove would be nice.

“Wanna get some air?” Jane asked. Garrus’s nod was slight but quick.

Side by side they walked away from the tables where people still picked at their desserts, through clusters of chatting people milling about. They stopped by a balcony, one of the only secluded spots, where the outside air cooled Jane’s shoulders and the loud chatter of a few hundred people quieted. She leaned against the wall. Garrus settled beside her. A breeze lifted her hair slightly and Garrus watched her brush it from her cheek with a tender, longing look.

“You look beautiful,” he said. His voice was warm and thick, with a sweetness she realized only came through when he talked to her. The words flowed into her ears, sunk into her heart. He’d never told her she was beautiful before, even in a teasing way, or a casual mention, and it was immediately clear why: the instant he said those words out loud no one, not even her, could honestly believe he thought of her only as a friend.

He reached up and pressed his fingers around the tip of a curl. She thought about pressing her lips to his mouth. He was so close that she could, but she reined in her impulse and said, “Tell me we should take this slow.”

“We should take this slow.”

She faked a groan and he gave her a sweet smile that faded quickly.

“At least until I’m not so damn terrified,” he said.

Her heart caught.

“Stakes are pretty high,” he explained, twirling the curl around his finger.

She nodded. “We’ll go slow.” Despite saying that, she felt her cheek inch towards his hand, the promise of his finger brushing her skin so close.

He released her curl and took her hand. “Come on, dance with me.” He stepped away from the wall, coaxing her to come with him and she took a few quick, careful steps on her too-high heels.

“You know I’m not a good dancer,” she said, though she had every intention of dancing with him for as long as he wanted.

“I’ll do all the work. All you have to do is look good, and I’d say that mission is accomplished.”

He drew her towards the dance floor. Smitten, entranced, eager to please, she followed.

Chapter End Notes

> The second half is SO CLOSE to being ready. I expect to post it within a week...promise you won't have to wait 6 months again 😅

> I don't want to focus on sad stuff, so I'll just say the past year has been difficult, but things are getting better, and I hope to get into an energetic posting schedule.

> HUGE thank you to everyone who has left a kudo or a comment, and an even bigger thank you to those that comment regularly. I know authors say it a lot, but knowing there are people out there who like to read what we throw out into the world is one of the best feelings in life. They make us happy dance on the good days, and warm our hearts on the bad.

> Sending you all love and well wishes ❤️

## Pulse: Part Two

Chapter Summary

> Garrus finds his nerve, and Jane forgets how to breathe

Chapter Notes

> Song I had on loop: I Want You, Mitski

The last time Jane and Garrus danced together they’d been alone in Jane’s kitchen, dishes freshly done, a song about longing casting pleading, lonely vocals through her apartment. That dance had ended in her embarrassment, Garrus looking at her confused and tense, and a distance that lasted months.

This time would be different.

If this dance ended in embarrassment, it would be because she fell on her ass.

Garrus led her to a clear spot on the dance floor, weaving around partners who drifted to sweet, cheerful tones. He glanced over his shoulder, down at her feet. “How are you walking in those?”

“You’re not asking how my ass feels against the floor, so I think well enough.”

“Based on the angle of your tilt and your center of gravity, I’d probably be asking how the floor tastes.”

He stopped, turned to her. The dim lights that hung like stars above them washed his face in warmth, darkening his colony markings, softening the sharp angles of his cheeks, mandibles, and brows.

“Next time I’ll wear my tennis shoes,” she said. “Think I remember you once saying no guy would date a woman wearing dirty beat-up shoes.”

He chuckled, warm and rumbling. “You’re a brat, you know?”

“My best friend tells me all the time. He's an even bigger brat, though, so I don’t trust his opinion on the matter.”

Smiling, Garrus pulled her close to his chest. Jane lifted her arms to wrap them around his shoulders, but he caught her hand with his.

“I’d like to dance like turians this time, if that’s all right.”

She gave him a snappy salute and a wink. “You’re in charge tonight.”

“I enjoy you saying that too much.”

Her lips pressed tight to hold in her surprise. “Are you going slow?”

“You started it.” There was no defense in his voice, only a playful, suggestive timber.

“Fine. Teach me how to dance like turians.” She relaxed her limbs, inviting him to pose her arms and hands as he needed, then she took a subtle step back, not enough for him to notice, just enough for him to feel it. “You can use my body.”

He stepped towards her. Not precisely a chase, but it was thrilling to see him come after her nonetheless.

“Are you going to tease me for making a fool of myself in your kitchen five months ago, or are you going to dance with me?”

She feigned innocence with a tucked chin and batting lashes. “I just want you to show me your dancing skills. And, maybe.” She paused, watching his shoulders tense as he waited for her to finish. He breathed two steady breaths before she finally said, “How talented your tongue is.”

His mandibles flickered, and his eyes couldn't quite meet hers. Was he also imagining his tongue on every curve of her body?

A smile as sharp as a blade’s edge broke the shy softness in his eyes. He leaned in, speaking quietly with his mouth close to her ear. “You’ll have to learn how to behave for that part.”

He broke eye contact with her casually, like he hadn’t just metaphorically dropped her flat on her back and coaxed her thighs apart with nothing more than a few words.

While she stared at Garrus, too dazed to speak, he set to work posing her. With a firm finger at her elbow he guided her arm up so that her hand hovered even with her shoulder. His talon skated from her elbow to her wrist for no reason other than he wanted to feel her skin. His eyes landed back on hers, dark, deliberate, expectant. It wasn’t so much that her smile faded, but that it was snuffed out because no ropes held her in place, yet she was perfectly snared.

She looked at her thin wrist and her little hand drowning in Garrus’s. “Your hand is big,” she said and felt like the biggest fool in the world.

“Mm. And yours is small.”

His thumb ran along her wrist, as smooth as a crawling raindrop, brushing in an errant pattern like he was looking for a specific spot. It stopped, resting flat against her skin. He took a slow, satisfied breath. And she knew why.

In all her teasing she forgot a very essential part of turian dancing: one partner would rest their thumb over the other partner’s pulse.

Her pulse had to be pounding, and Garrus could feel every excited beat.

His two large fingers wrapped around the back of her wrist to hold it still beneath his thumb. The pressure wasn’t firm. It was secure, but soft.

After taking a moment to gather a succinct thought, Jane held up her free hand. “What about this one?”

“Here.” He placed her hand on his hipspur. She should have savored having a hand on his hip —for years she’d lose herself in their languid swing, his confident stride casting them side, to side, but everything seemed to be happening so quickly.

“Ready?” he asked.

She barely nodded, transfixed by his eyes and his touch and the heat between their bodies. Though she knew it was her imagination, she could almost feel her pulse tapping against his thumb.

She felt so light-headed that even standing still she might tip over. “Careful,” she managed to say despite tight, tingling lips. “These shoes compromise my structural integrity. I might just tip over.”

“I’ve got you,” he said and then he placed his other hand firmly on her back, but lower than where he normally would. It sent a jolt up her spine. His hand wasn’t simply resting there, it pressed into her muscle, keeping her body firmly in his control. With his talons just slightly pressed into her she was so incredibly aware of how thin the fabric of her dress was, and how little stood between her skin and his. Her heart fluttered.

Garrus’s body shifted, moving with the music, but she was so distracted that she forgot she should be moving too, so she just stood stiff and speechless within his arms.

Before she could convince her body to budge, he spoke. “Well, I wasn’t being totally serious when I said I’d do all the work. You have to move,” his voice was quieter, the words slipping out when he added, “ just a little.”

“ Ass ,” she said.

She moved her hips first, swaying along with his hips, then got her feet to shuffle in step with his feet. Soon they were gently drifting with the music, his hip rocking within her tight hold as she tried to match his rhythm. A silence fell between them, him looking down at her, her looking up at him, gazes connected.

His hand crept lower so that he straddled the edge between the dip in her back and the curve of her ass. If it drifted any lower he’d have more ass than back in his hand.

“You’re so tall,” she muttered, then a soft huff of a laugh left her lips. “Even with these heels on I have to look up at you.”

His mandibles fanned in amusement. “Yes, my hands are big and I’m tall. Any other notes on my body? Or yours?”

Only that every one of her soft curves met every one of his sharp angles, pieces that fit seamlessly in an intimacy unique to them, like they were meant to be like this. He was meant to hold her and she was meant for his arms, and now that they were finally together something felt complete.

She caught his dark eyes on her neck before they flicked up.

“What do you know about my center of gravity, hm?” She wasn’t sure why she said it. Probably because she was a brat, just like he said, and because talking math only made him sexier.

With rakish certainty he said, “I’m familiar with the weight of your body. How it feels in my hands.”

A memory flashed in her mind. Garrus’s hands wrapped around her hips in a dark corridor, red utility lights casting over them, his breath bathing her lower back, her skin feeling tight and prickling.

Garrus swallowed, and stared. Small vibrations thrummed in his chest.

“Trust me?” he asked.

“Always.”

The only warning he gave was an icy flash in his eyes. In a fluid motion he hooked her calf with his legspur, brought it behind his thigh and tipped her back. The dance floor spun, Jane’s breath caught, and her instincts told her to cling, her hand dug into his hip, her leg curled around his thigh.

It felt like she was dangling, only air and the slick stone floor at her back, but he held her without effort, her weight resting entirely in his single hand pressing into the curve of her lower back. Her heart hammered. A half second of dizzying motion melted to a moment suspended.

His wide shoulders pressed over her, his mouth hovered just inches from hers.

Her heavy breaths brushed past her lips.

His mouth parted just a slice.

“You could have warned me,” Jane said.

“Well if I had warned you, I wouldn’t be looking down at a beautiful woman with eyes shining brighter than the stars.”

“Garrus,”...and then she forgot exactly what she was going to say. Incapable of gathering another word, and only having whispered his name, she studied the satisfied curve in his mouth, the triumphant heat in his eyes. Her body flooded with infatuation for him. Like he had slipped inside her, like he was pulsing through her veins.

Yes, the stakes were high; there was no going back from this.

He pulled her back up, his body leading her to sway again. The same slow rhythm of the music stayed in her ear but everything around them whirled.

“Just don’t do it again,” she warned, because if he did she might just drag him to a closet, beg him to hold her up against a wall and fuck her.

“Can’t promise you that. I think I'm addicted to feeling your pulse, and that got it racing.”

Heat burst from her throat to her cheeks.

“You’re blushing.”

“I know.” She blinked, and breathed. “I can feel it.”

The lights overhead dimmed; a slower song started, the beat steady and deep at first, like her heartbeat, then it slowed and her heart slowed along with it.

From moment to moment Jane felt their relationship shifting, at one they were best friends and the next something more. It reminded her of those old toys with a bird on one side and its enclosure the other and if you spun it quick enough the two images blurred and merged. As she and Garrus spun on the dance floor, their relationship, in all its aspects, blurred until there was no distinction between the edges of one thing and the other, it was just her and Garrus, together.

Jane never wanted to stop spinning.

“I learned something this week,” Garrus said.

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes you need to relax and do something a little scary.” He paused to give her a gorgeous smirk. “Was that scary, Jane?”

She didn’t answer him, she couldn't, but based on the way he looked down at her, all fire and confidence, she didn’t think he needed an answer.

She shifted her focus from his eyes to taking a slow inhalation, because Garrus just took her breath away.

** *

At no single moment in his life had Garrus been happier. Jane in his arms, smiling, her eyes filled with starshine and holding on to him just as tight as he held onto her. Spirits, he could slip into the stars with her, drown in the night sky, forever, for the next breath and every one after.

So much for taking things slow.

“I've been thinking about dancing with you all night,” he said. “No, not just all night. Since the last time we danced, in your kitchen, until I—.”

“I messed up that moment, not you.”

“How?”

“By running from something that scared me.”

He thought about her words, about the meaning floating just beneath them and he realized that she hadn't been scared of dancing, her feelings for him had scared her. He pressed his reassuring hand into her back.

“Hm, didn’t think there was anything that could scare you enough to make you run.”

“Only the important things. The things that make life worth living.”

Jane met his gaze confidently but her pulse stuttered between beats. Keeping his thumb in place, he brushed his two fingers along the back of her hand to reassure her. With their next step she pressed against him, her body soft and warm. His right hand almost shook against the familiar tight curve of her lower back, so he had to focus on keeping it steady.

“Well, we’re dancing again,” he said. “That’s what matters. And it’s even better this time.”

“Yeah, I’m not running away.”

“There’s that. Also, I’m partial to my own culture’s style of dancing.” He brushed her wrist with his thumb, pressed into her pulse to feel it jump. “How about you?”

“I like it.” The words rode from her mouth on a warm breath.

“Good.”

The song ended and a new one began, gentle strumming beneath a lingering tune.

“You want to stop dancing?” he asked.

She shook her head, then rested it on his chest. Every inch of her pressed against every inch of him, yet his greedy heart wanted more, he wanted her even closer, wanted her limbs wrapped around his body and his face buried in her neck.

Hopefully she wasn’t afraid of slipping in her heels anymore, hopefully she knew that even if she slipped into oblivion he’d still be there, holding her tight, right up against his heart. He felt her pulse beat, his own heart thud, and for a moment while they danced he couldn't differentiate between his own heart rhythm and hers.

Songs started and ended, all hushed melodies that made you cling to a lover. During some they talked about trivial things, during some she rested her head on his chest and they didn’t speak at all. Her pulse was soft, steady and although he missed the thrill of it pounding, knowing she could feel at peace in his arms was good too.

“Your dad’s speech was nice,” she said.

He hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing. Disagreeing would spoil their moment, and agreeing felt like a betrayal to countless nights spent in a quiet home with his mom and sister. A few words projected to a crowd twenty years later didn’t mean much.

His hum satisfied Jane, though.

After so many songs played that he lost track, a message pinged on his omni-tool: his dad asking for help convincing his mom to leave the banquet. Jane saw the message, took his hand and they walked over to his parents’ table.

“Oh, your father has called for backup,” his mom said, her voice singing with amusement. “You can just go back to dancing because I’m not going home.” She gave him that look, where all she did was lift her browplates but it made him feel like a fussing toddler asking for something she wouldn’t give.

Only hours ago Garrus’s mom’s eyes had been sharp, her smile wide, and her shoulders high. It wasn’t exactly late, but it was time for her to go home and rest.

“Mom, if you’re tired—” Garrus started.

“Leave Val alone.” Jane’s hand squeezed his forearm, reassuring and conspiratorial. “You Vakarian men could single-handedly kill a party.”

“Thank you, Jane. My fretting amar is trying to make me go home and drink tea, but you're all having so much fun.”

“Oh god!” Jane said, “tea sounds wonderful, my throat’s so dry from talking all night. And my feet hurt from these damn shoes.” Jane slid into an empty chair, slouching even though she had plenty energy a moment ago.

Looking down at Jane’s feet and tsked, his mom tsked. “They look like torture devices”

Jane laughed, slipping her foot out of a heel to raise it up and knead the arch. “My feet agree.” Her voice hadn’t sounded so raspy a moment ago, either. His dad smiled and typed on his omni-tool, probably calling for the skycar.

“They’re so red!” his mom said, resting her elbow on the back of her chair. “The shoes are lovely but you need to get them off, give your poor feet a rest.”

“I will once I get out of here, but Garrus still wants to dance. I hate to leave him without a partner.”

Jane shot a subtle brow flick his way, signaling he should step in and help move this little ruse along, but he’d always been wholly incapable of deceiving his mom, certainly for his own benefit, and it turned out even for her own.

Thankfully his dad stepped in to help. “Don’t worry about Garrus,” he said to Jane, “he can easily find another partner.”

“ No ,” his mom said like she couldn't get the word out quick enough, then eased the sharpness with a simpering smile. “Jane, come home with us. We can talk and have some tea. You can take your shoes off and rest a little, too.”

Garrus’s dad gave Jane a thankful smile. When she slipped her shoe back on and stood, Garrus wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned down to whisper thank you into her ear. Nuzzling his mandible against her cheek would have felt really nice, he was already right there, so close, but he saved that for another, less public, moment.

***

Castis and Val welcomed Jane and Garrus into their apartment with hot cups of tea, then changed into their pajamas. Garrus draped his jacket over the back of a dining chair and rolled up his sleeves, and Jane left her shoes at the door so she could curl her legs beneath her. At the dining table they talked. Vids and holiday plans and vacations were discussed. Under the table Garrus took her hand and held it atop his thigh. Every once and a while his finger would brush across her palm and every time she’d have to pretend not to hold her breath.

Being at Castis and Val’s home reminded Jane of staying up late with her Gran and Papa on Friday nights, being perfectly happy chatting with them instead of going out. You can learn so much about someone talking with them late at night in their home. In those moments intimacies formed, people opened the doors to their little worlds and invited you in.

That night Jane learned that Primarch Cyrus Fedorian was a childhood miscreant. When he and Cyrus were eight, Castis, overly confident about his aim, shot a palae ball into a crulum shop window, shattering it. And instead of admitting to the accident Cyrus convinced him to flee. Val joked that Castis dedicated his life to C-Sec due to a guilty conscience seeded in that incident. With a charming flicker in his mandible he laughed and shrugged.

“Why did you join the force, Jane?” Castis asked. “No shameful criminal act in your youth, I’m sure.”

Jane gave him an amused smile. “Diverting attention to someone else? Common criminal tactic, and a weak one,” she accused.

Castis laughed, warm and rumbly. It sounded so much like Garrus’s laugh.

Jane shook her head. “No crimes. I watched a lot of homicide dramas as a kid. I thought the detectives were heroes and being a hero sounds like a pretty nice job when you’re a kid, I guess.” Jane paused, thinking of all the clouded eyes and slit throats that haunted her sleep and wondered if becoming a cop had been a mistake before saying, “It’s just what I always wanted to do.”

In a noticeable moment of silence it felt as though Castis and Val avoided looking at Garrus. Jane knew that Garrus had never wanted to be a cop. She assumed he’d felt pressured by Castis to join once he left the military but Garrus never talked about it, and she never pushed.

Garrus released her hand and got up. “Let me warm up your tea,” he said, and brushed her shoulder with his palm as he walked away.

While Garrus moved around the kitchen Castis and Val watched Jane with unabashed interest. They kept their mandibles tight, though. A kitchen appliance door clicked shut, ceramic rasped against the stone counter, and their eyes remained on her. Even if Jane felt a little self-conscious, their curiosity and earnest energy was sweet.

After too many cups of tea and three back-to-back yawns, Jane said she should probably go home. Castis and Val said their warm goodnights and Garrus walked her to the door, her shoes dangling from her hand until she got into the hallway and placed her hand on his forearm for balance as she slipped them back on.

She stood in the hallway, he stood in the doorway, and they smiled at each other. Just smiled.

Until Jane, whether from a tired mind or because she couldn't wait any longer, lowered her voice and said, “More than friendship?”

A browplate rose, his smile drifted to a smirk.

After glancing to see Val and Castis engaged in conversation at the dining table, she lowered her voice to an almost whisper. “What exactly does ‘more’ entail?”

A deep, sudden purr rippled from his chest. “So much.”

Any hope that they’d been discreet flew out the window when two chuckles came from inside the apartment. They hadn’t been sufficiently quiet – or maybe it was Garrus’s thunderous purr that gave them away. Talons clicked, Val telling Castis to stop chuckling even though her own chuckles were louder.

A sort of first date with her best friend. In front of his family. Of course it would be awkward.

Garrus and Jane, embarrassed, laughed as well. He cleared his throat.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” she asked. It was the weekend. As long as nothing popped up with the case they’d have two days to talk and figure everything out.

“Just sparring with Nihlus. He’s going to work out all his irritation with James on my poor body.”

Jane reached out and touched her fingers to his keel, a playful nudge. “Uh oh, can you two behave yourselves? No broken spurs?”

His mandibles flickered. “I’ll make sure my body remains in full operating condition.”

She lifted her hand towards his, brushed his finger with her pinky. For a moment she thought he’d reach out and take her hand in his, but it just hung there at his side.

“We can hang out tomorrow night?” he asked.

“Sounds good. We can talk.”

He nodded, then wrapped his hand around her waist, pulled her against his chest, and ducked down to brush his mandible along her cheek. His breath was warm, his plate soft as suede. She took in a quick breath and because the man who had given her a fully-developed definition of the condition of yearning just nuzzled her.

“Call me,” he said, pulling away then slipping inside. The door slid shut and she had to brace her hand on the wall to keep from melting to her knees.

***

As soon as Jane walked through her front door she abandoned her very sexy shoes to slip her feet into cloud-soft slippers. Miranda was in the kitchen, having arrived for her stay while Jane was at the banquet.

“Feels like I haven’t seen you in years,” Jane said.

“It has been months. Thanks again for letting me stay here.”

“Of course. You should renovate more often, we’d actually spend time together.”

Rocket sat on a stool, letting Miranda know just what he thought of her with a sharp glare and a flick of his tail. He wasn’t fond of many people, including Miranda, and wasn’t afraid of showing it. The thing about Miranda, though, was she wasn’t afraid of glaring right back.

“How was the banquet?” Standing at the counter, Miranda held a glass of wine. She’d just done the dishes, a gentle clink, clink filled the kitchen.

“Good.” Even knowing Miranda would respond with friendly derision Jane couldn’t contain her soppingly silly grin when she said, “Garrus nuzzled me.”

Miranda’s brow flicked in surprised amusement. “Was he drunk?”

“No! Although, I did grope him the other night and I had a drink or two in me.”

“You’ve had a busy week.”

Jane buried her face in her hands and let out a huff of air. There had been so many ups and downs in just a single damn week. A soggy crime scene and a terrible date with a stranger, groping Garrus at a club, her messy confession and their nerve-wracking, wonderful conversation. Holding hands. A nuzzle. Now they were rolling into the weekend at the edge of…something.

When she looked back up Miranda rolled her eyes, affectionately, of course, and sipped her wine. “Would you like me to put on some fuzzy pajamas so we can giggle and talk about our crushes?”

Jane flipped Miranda off and got a smirk in return.

“So this is a thing now? You two?”

“Yeah. A thing. Something. I don’t know.”

“That would drive me crazy.”

Jane pointed at her face with two fingers. “Don’t I look crazy right now?”

“Yes,” Miranda said without reservation, though with perceptible affection in her voice – if you knew her well enough.

They talked just a while longer because Jane was tapping into the last drops of her energy by then. Upstairs in her bedroom, she peeled her dress off, her skin so alight with sensitivity that the mere brush of the fabric gave her goosebumps. After washing makeup from her face and putting a baggy shirt on, she curled into bed with Rocket kneading the pillow next to hers. Just as she closed her eyes her omni-tool pinged.

Garrus: Feet feeling better?

Jane: Yes

Garrus: Good. Bit worried about mine. Feels like I’m floating.

Jane’s toes curled, she grinned. Before she replied, she let out a puff of air past her pursed lips.

Jane: Hm, that’s concerning. Maybe you need to be tied down.

Garrus: Jane

Garrus: Black night above

Jane: Want me to stop?

Garrus: Never

She tucked herself in, snuggling in close to her pillows and felt the heat of Rocket lying in his favorite spot, close to her head. The last thing she did before nodding off was bring her hand up to her wrist. She placed her thumb at the delicate bend, softly brushing up the length and following the same path Garrus’s thumb had traveled. Once she reached that little spot where her pulse beat she rested her thumb against it, pressing it just enough to feel the thum thum pulsing through her.

## More: Part One

Chapter Summary

> Garrus puts his hand to use, and Jane uses her words

Chapter Notes

> um, hi. long time no see new chapter. i'm back! and posting this a bit prematurely because the rest of the chapters (i think there will be seven more) aren't completely finished, but they're mostly finished so i think i'll be updating fairly regularly until this is done. and it's so close to being done! if you're returning, thank you so much for your patience. my heart has stuck with this story, and it was encouraged by my dear writing friends, and some encouragement from some readers via tumblr.

> so -- here we go! hope you enjoy :)

> songs i had on loop: so many! but recently Ache, FKA Twigs and The Whole World Was Ready to Return, Daniel Hart

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jane spent her Saturday morning going over the results of the Donnel Udina property search. Nothing stood out. The only fingerprints on the closet door and on the watch case were Donnel’s and his wife’s – and via CC vids they were both confirmed to have been at home that night with their youngest child, so they weren’t suspects. The junior detective who conducted the interview noted that their oldest child was away at boarding school, so he couldn’t be a suspect either.

Because her own family was so important to her Jane couldn't imagine anything sadder than getting booted off to boarding school. But hell, maybe with a dad like Donnel Udina the kid was happier far away.

She combed over every line a second time, dissected every word hoping to catch something out of place, but nothing stuck out. The only irksome part was that the junior detective who took the report didn’t record the name of the boarding school Udina’s oldest attended, which was sloppy, but she could look that up when she was back in the office on Monday. Since he was away he probably hadn’t been interviewed yet, and it was a long shot that he knew anything, but any detective who bets on where their next lead comes from is a fool.

After her third read-through she messaged Garrus, hoping he saw something she didn’t: Looked over the property search?

His reply — Yeah, nothing’s jumping out at me — made her flick her datapad across the couch in frustration.

She spent the afternoon running on her treadmill to get her mind on something other than their stalled case. With her heart hammering against her ribs, her fixation transferred to Garrus’s tight ass and piercing eyes, which caused a whole different kind of frustration.

By late afternoon, after his sparring session with Nihlus, Jane received a message from Garrus — a picture of his legs followed by No broken spurs.

Proud of you, she said back.

And then she laid on her couch for two hours. Uncertainty, that goddamn dagger in her side, came back to twist deeper, clouding out all their flirtatious touches from the past two days. What if they wanted different things? What if they’d been pining over each other for years but had no idea how to make something work?

Turians don’t kiss. She had no idea how to nuzzle. He was sharp teeth and hard angles. She was fragile skin and snaggable hair.

And turian dicks.

Are very different.

Sex was just an undercurrent, though. She wanted affection. Maybe love, someday.

God, they’d barely touched each other and she was already thinking about the possibility of falling in love with him someday. Her best friend. Her turian best friend. Their pieces fit together so perfectly that sometimes she forgot they weren’t from the same box. Turians fall in love the same as humans, but they can also bond for life if they meet someone they deeply love.

Lying on her couch, staring at her ceiling, her hand fell to her breast bone as realization trampled over her.

He’d always been deeply bothered by the fickle human heart.

Only in that moment did Jane finally realize that when Garrus looked at her he wasn’t seeing a human body that he wasn’t attracted to, but someone who could break his heart. Just like it had been broken before. He saw someone who could leave him.

Still uncertain of everything other than her need to be nearer to Garrus, she forgot that she had gym shorts and a well-worn cropped tshirt on, fumbled her feet into her grubby grey tennis shoes, and marched out of her apartment.

Fifteen minutes later Jane stood at Garrus’s apartment door, battling the uncertainty bubbling in her gut and gathering up the nerve to ring his doorbell.

She stared at the little button notched into the wall.

Push it, she told herself, lifting her finger. Stop being weird. Her finger hovered just over the button. She just had to push it. She’d push it and go in and nothing would be weird between them they’d just—

Garrus’s door slid open, startling her. He stood at the far side of his apartment, his back to her, working on some project laid out on his workbench while she stood still in his doorway, looking like an idiot.

“Did you come over to stare at my door, or me?” Garrus drawled. Just then she noticed a newly placed security camera pointing straight at her.

“You’re welcome to just stare at my door, but I think I offer a more appealing view.” His voice, even laden with humor, was rich and suggestive.

“Ass,” she called him.

“Yeah, that’s part of the appeal.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and it disarmed her enough to draw her through his doorway.

Despite the cheap furniture, empty shelves, and bare walls, she felt just at home in his space, simply because it was his. It was orderly and functional, but comforting.

His hips shifted slightly. Black pants clung to the tight curves of his ass and the sharp angles of his hipspurs. Whether the shift was intentional or not, it sent a tickle through her. She stared, and imagined them swaying. And thrusting. For one brief, glorious moment she allowed herself to freely fantasize about his hips between her thighs giving slow, attentive thrusts.

Stepping up beside him, she kicked her shoes to the side. One smacked against the wall and clattered to the floor.

“Hey,” Garrus said, “go easy on those. You’ve got a few months till Christmas.”

She rested her palms on the edge of his bench, and leaned against it. “I could buy my own grey tennis shoes, you know.”

“Sure you could.” He propped a tool in his mouth, his sharp teeth biting down.

“But I wouldn't like them as much as the ones you give me,” she admitted, mollified by his calm energy, and also the sight of his mouth wrapped around a small cylindrical object. She stared at the tool. His mouth. His teeth.

Unaware that she was ogling his mouth, he looked down at her and smiled, like he never for a second doubted that she’d prefer a gift given by him over something she bought herself. Her heart fluttered. The urge to nestle into his warm embrace made her feel like a tree leaning with a breeze, pushing her closer to him.

She stood up on her tiptoes, and tipped forward to survey the tools and electronic bits laid out neatly. “What are you doing?”

“My coffee maker wasn’t getting hot enough so I’m replacing a coil.” While he spoke she tried not to stare at his tongue as the tip thrust out in tiny flicks around the handle. He took the tool from his mouth and used it to turn a tiny screw, then placed it in a neat row with others lined out atop the workbench. “You were gonna call me.” His voice was soft, tone curious.

“I can go back home and call you,” she bluffed. She spun, took one step, and felt a swoop of satisfaction when he hooked his arm around her waist.

“Stay and help me,” he said, pulling her back, not to the spot by his side where she previously stood, but tucking her between his body and the workbench so that her spine pressed against his stomach and keel.

And then he kept on working, as if being pressed to him like that wouldn't set her whole body on fire.

They’d been in this position before, when wrestling, or when he’d help her correct her posture at the range, or when he’d lift her to see something out of reach. But in those cases there’d always been a reason for their proximity. Although, perhaps wrestling actually gave them the illusion of a reason, when all they really wanted was closeness.

This, however, was closeness without reason and without illusion — just because it felt good, because pressing your body to someone who made your pulse beat a heavy rhythm was reason enough.

He popped some little electrical component into place. She could feel his steady breaths pushing his chest against her shoulder blades, his stomach warmed her back.

While she watched his hands flex, thoughtfully manipulating small components into place, her hair fell into her view. She ran her finger behind her ear to gather it up and tuck it over her other shoulder, exposing the back of her neck. His breath warmed her nape and sent a tickle between her legs that made her hips feel alive.

Why had she come over? To talk? Of course — but to say what? She rolled a little screw against the pad of her pointer finger. Patiently, he snuck his finger beneath hers to realign the screw with the others.

That’s when she noticed his talons were filed shorter than normal, the pointy tip not simply snipped, but squared. They hadn’t been last night.

“Not sure what help I’m supposed to be providing,” she said, staring at his shorter, smoother, safer-for-intimate-places talons.

“Caught me,” he said, the sultry timbre in his voice rattling against her back. “Just trying to get you closer.”

Something folded in her chest, a tight little bud that felt near to bursting. She could have done something sensical, like reply to his teasing with a joke, or laugh easily, or anything else, but instead she nudged the arch of his foot with her big toe. Without losing focus on his work he shifted his foot to poke her with the tip of a peditalon, then she poked the top of his foot but instead of poking her back he only said, “You’re a menace.”

A deep, desperate giggle burst out of her. The heat in his voice, the word menace filled with playful rebuke, sent quivers through her so powerful that her thighs drew together.

Seconds earlier she’d felt near to bursting, but giggling like a weak-kneed fool made her practically wilt with embarrassment.

Jane had never acted like this before, silly and unsure of herself, not even when she was a teenager fumbling around with boys, inexperienced and overconfident. She’d always just leapt in, never feeling the slightest hesitation before kissing someone, or slipping her hands beneath a pair of jeans.

But with Garrus everything felt so different, and leaping in with him at the bar had been a humiliating fuck up. It nearly ruined everything. So, what was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to behave?

A little comforting purr hummed in his throat, one she’d heard countless times in moments when he wanted to reassure her, and just like in all of those moments, it soothed her frazzled nerves.

Impulsively, to distract them both from her little fit, she stood up on her tiptoes again, pretending to study his work while she tried to figure out how to talk about her feelings and what was budding between them.

“Hey,” he chided lightly, and placed his large palm across the span of her stomach, pulling her body back against his. His talons tickled her skin, giving her goosebumps. “You’re short, but your head’s in my line of sight when you're on your toes.”

She pressed the back of her head against his keel so that he could see. “Better?”

“Mm.”

She tilted her head to look up at him, and instead of looking down at the benchtop, his eyes were looking down at her, bright blue and brimming with affection and although she wasn’t in his light of sight anymore he didn’t take his hand from her stomach — he let it rest there under the ragged hem of her cropped t-shirt, pressed against her warm skin. She felt her stomach tighten, and was certain that he felt it too, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

She looked back at the benchtop, focusing on that little screw she had played with and he’d put back in place. She took the biggest breath of her life, let it out slowly, and as soon as her breath was finally out his smallest finger, only his smallest finger, flexed towards the waistband of her shorts.

A snap of electricity traveled from her brain to her fingertips and toes, sizzling through her body, ready to pop. The thought of Garrus’s hand beneath her shorts gave her a few aching, ragged breaths and before she could reign them in he pressed his mouth to her head, right above her ear to take in a long, slow breath and she sighed.

His hand didn’t move, not even a sliver.

She came over to talk. Words were somewhere in her head. Somewhere buried deep and clouded out by the thrill of his hand so close to slipping between her thighs. Neither of them spoke — they were both so starkly still, teetering on a precipice between jagged stillness and tumbling impulse.

Her mouth parted but nothing came out, not a word, not a breath, and then his entire hand moved, sliding down her stomach, so, so slowly. She closed her eyes, shutting out everything but the friction of his hide on her skin.

When his little finger met the waistband of her shorts he stopped and flicked the fabric with his talon. Testing, tempted. If she spoke, even to encourage him, would he withdraw his hand and would they talk? She didn’t want that. She wanted his hand cupping her cunt. Finger buried deep. Please, she thought while heat pooled between her legs. She played her fingertips along his forearm, brushing over his pebbled hide, asking him with touch instead of words to please keep going.

His smallest finger tucked under her waistband and her stomach clenched but he didn’t stop, his hand kept pushing beneath her shorts. His hot breath kissed her ear. His velvet-soft tongue teased her neck, and another breath stuttered out of her.

His hand snuck down, inch by sliding inch, skating through her thick hairs, pushing between her tight thighs. His forearm pressed against her collarbone drawing her back against him and she wrapped a hand around it holding it in place. He was so close. After so many years of aching and wishing, every inch of his tense body touched every inch of her.

She couldn't stand the stillness, his finger there, not moving, so close to making her melt to pieces. Outside the small window above his workbench people in a neighboring building were watching vids, making dinner, doing laundry. If one of them passed by their window would they see her and Garrus standing there? Would they see his hand? Her closed eyes and panting mouth?

Her hips canted, animated by his touch and not her own mind, seeking more, forcing his finger to drag and tease against her slick lips, lighting flames over her skin from tipped toes to swimming head. Garrus’s finger didn’t move, but the soft roll in his subvocals rose to a hot-timber crackle, snapping as he melted her bones by licking a line up her neck. She almost giggled again, not because his tongue tickled, but because every cell in her body quivered. The difference in his purr was both subtle and stark, like a storm’s gentle thunder overtaken by cracking lightning.

Aching for his careful touch to stop playing with her, to slip inside her, she shifted her thighs, just enough to create an inch of space for him to move more freely. He held his finger still for only a second more before a growl ripped from his throat. His quick nip on her neck startled her, and stole almost all of her attention, but nothing could make her miss that his sneaking finger dipped into her tight, pulsing cunt. She held a weak moan in her throat, scared that if she made even the smallest sound the moment would end.

***

Jane was so wet Garrus’s finger slipped into her with no effort at all. Though it took every ounce of his effort to resist tearing her tiny shorts over her curving hips, resist sinking his open mouth into her bent neck. His heart pounded up to his tight throat. She didn’t speak, didn’t even make a small sound.

There were so many things he wanted to do to her, it felt like they’d all just burst out if he moved an inch, but holding all the urges in felt like tethering the sun. More than anything, though, he wanted to hear her moan — soft and sweet and just for him. His cock pulsed behind his seam, aching to press free, aching to press against her body.

Holding her tight to his chest with his forearm wrapped around her collarbone he shifted his palm, feeling rough hairs against his palm, and worked his finger deeper into her soft cunt. Her head rolled back, her neck stretched, he hunched to lick at her skin, taste her salt on his tongue.

He rocked his palm against her, working his finger in slight, slow strokes, afraid that he had no idea how she liked to be touched but having his finger inside her felt too good to stop so he listened to her and watched her. Quiet breathy pants. Her smiling lips. He noticed these things while he noticed how hot and slick and tight she felt on his finger. If he could just make her moan, just once...

He slid his finger out. When his fingertip teased at her lips her cheek nudged his forearm and a little unhappy cry left her. She clung to him, mouth gliding over his skin, begging him not to leave so he pressed back in and she sighed, happy, satisfied. He savored every sign that he was making her feel good, every breath that pulled out of her when he stroked his finger in, every needy sigh when he dragged his finger out.

Jane’s body melted in his hold, all her weight against his chest, in his arms. She wiggled her hips against him, her plump ass tempting his straining cock to press past his seam but all he could think about was making her moan.

Of course they should stop, talk, but he wanted to hear her moan for him.

Her fingers dug into his forearm, pulled at the edges of his thick arm plates, she rolled her hips, her ass pressed against his thighs and he worked his finger faster, found a little spot that made her pant hot breaths over his arm.

He worked that little spot and her grip begged at his arm, nails dug into his skin, cunt tensed and pulsed and then finally a gentle moan drifted from her mouth — sweet, breathy, caressing his senses. He pressed in deeper, stroking with his finger faster. Deeper and faster. Drinking in every moan until one shifted to a gasp, and then another twisted to a ragged cry.

In one quick slip he pulled his finger out.

Jane made a sound of protest. Her hips chased after his hand, but he tapped all his self control to settle it on her waist instead. He turned her to face him, and with both hands planted on her hips held her at arm's length, far enough away to think with his head and not his fervent heart.

They were supposed to talk.

She looked up at him, the warmth in her gaze flickering with something so desperate that it felt menacing. That look nearly made him slip his finger back inside her to stoke her, watch her melt and burn.

“We should…” Words rasped along his vocal chords. He anchored his hands on her hips, and tried to anchor his thoughts. Tried not to focus on how her quick, deep breaths made him ache to hear her moan again. “...talk.”

It sounded like she tried to agree, or maybe disagree, but he couldn’t tell which it was because the noise that came out of her was nothing but a tight sigh. Spirits, it was like Jane had an aversion to speaking. Though to be fair his hand and what he’d done to her with it might have made coherent thoughts difficult. Had she actually liked it that much?

“I’m not even sure how to touch you,” he said.

The corner of her lip lifted as if she found that amusing. “You were doing a pretty damn good job.”

Her hips drove against his hold but he anchored her in place — firmly, easily — but holding her body still only made his cock stiffer, made his thoughts wander. To pinning her down, holding her perfectly still, her hips perfectly angeled while he fucked her until they couldn’t move and their breaths felt like they’d shatter their ribs. Would she like that too?

“We should talk,” he insisted, mostly to himself, because maybe he needed to be convinced even more than she did. “Before we…”

Blood rushed through his body, breath held tight in his lungs, and spirits the only relief would be feeling her hands, her mouth, all over his body but more than her hands and her mouth he needed her words. He needed her to promise that this was real and it would mean something.

Jane only nodded. She almost looked dizzy. Her hands landed on the peaks of his hipspurs, not pulling him, just holding so tight her knuckles were white.

Words were like a flood against his skull, none of them good. I want you. I need you. Tell me you think about me every damn minute of every long day, like I think about you.

Tell me this isn’t going to slip out of my hands before it gets really good. But hopefully never.

How do you say those things without scaring someone right out the door, though?

She finally looked up at him, and once she did, words tumbled from her mouth.

“Garrus, right now I have no idea what you really want from this. I just know that you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met. Watching your hips sway when you walk, the way the muscles in your forearms flex when you do some mundane little task, your ass...” a little whine caught in her throat and he thought of running his tongue along the slender column of her neck to feel that whine in his mouth, “sometimes I‘d close my eyes and just imagine your ass between my thighs, even though I knew I shouldn't.”

He almost tore her shorts off right then. Talking. They were talking. He liked hearing her say those things, but what he really needed to hear was—

“But you’re my best friend, and I want so much more than that.” She took one of his hands in one of hers, and held it tightly, sweetly, knitting her small fingers with his. “I want to hold your hand when we watch a vid. I want to lay in your arms and listen to your heart beat. I want you to hold me and never let go. And,” her eyes searched his and all he wanted was to offer her reassurance, “I want to know that when you say someone out there wants something more with me, you’re saying you want something more with me.”

“I was,” he said quickly, lifting a hand from her hip to cup her cheek. The blunt tips of his talons dug into the back of her neck, her skin puckering under the pressure and little hairs tickled his fingers. This perfect woman wanted him. This perfect body rested in his hands. The urge to just crash into her flared within him, so overwhelming it felt like a quiver through his limbs, like he was floating or falling. It was so overwhelming he couldn’t move.

“God,” she sucked in a tight breath, “all I want is to be close to you but right now I really want you to fuck me in whatever way that would please you because I swear I will enjoy it so just tell me what you—“

“That.” His chest filled with a desperate purr and he nodded. “That’s what I want. All of that.”

“Now?” The intensity in her gaze, the vulnerability in her pinched brows and soft mouth, lit a flame in his heart.

He nodded again, and wrapped his hands around her hips, nudged her closer, expecting her to crash into him with frantic touches, but she stood with a confidence that had always humbled him, and excited him. Without taking her eyes from his, she pulled her shirt up and over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Then, her bra. He stared at the long, tight plane of her stomach, the swell of her hips, the curve of her neck, spirits, he wanted to touch her neck with his hands, his mouth, his teeth.

Jane ran her hand through her hair, ruffled it up, and smiled up at him. Not an awkward smile, not a shy smile, a smile that was full of menace, that provoked him like fire licking up his spine.

“Damn,” he murmured, pulling her up on the very tips of her toes. “Come here.”

He tore her shorts off and she was naked then, every inch of her smooth, freckled body there for him to see, to touch, to feel.

Garrus reached for the hem of his shirt, shimmied it up his waist, gave her a smile when her eyes dropped to his stomach and she took a quick breath.

“Can I touch you?” she asked, her hands just hanging there, fingers tense with intent.

He dropped his shirt. “You never need to ask.”

Before his shirt met the floor her warm hands were smoothing up his stomach, making his skin muscles with tension as her hands darted to his pants, flicked the fastener, and shoved the fabric out of her way. With a heavy bounce his cock fell towards her, so painfully hard it stood stiff between them. Without hesitation her hand slipped over the head, feeling upwards with a slip of her thumb, making him see stars. They both let out soft moans equal in pitch, his drenched in rumbling subvocals.

“Fuck,” she said, air hissing past her teeth, and his cock jerked at thick warmth in her voice.

Her touch was soft, but it made his whole body tense and tighten, overwhelmed simply by the anticipation of her gripping him tight and stroking. His knees shook. The desire for touch warred with the impulse to slink away, too much too good too soon. He took her wrist, slipped her hand from his cock, making them both protest with weak moans, but in one swift lift he had her in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, her mouth on his neck. It felt like his chest was about to riot with rippling subvocals.

In two strides he took them to the couch, he shot a leg over the back and had Jane on her back beneath him. His body pulsed from ankle to fingers to touch her, lick her skin, dig his nose into the curve of her neck and breathe in.

He bent to bury his face in her neck, but her hips ground against his stomach, not his cock, so she shifted down the couch, straining to join her hips against his, but then her neck was out of reach and his face was buried in her hair, which tickled his nose and made him sneeze. For several frustrating seconds they scrunched and stretched, but no amount of straining or twisting made their position on the couch comfortable. Or conducive to fucking. So he stopped moving and looked down the line of his chest to see only the top of her head.

Their height difference had never felt so ridiculous.

“You’re so short,” he said, and his heart pattered when she tilted her head to look up at him, giving him a lopsided grin and soft shrug.

She scooched up the cushion until he felt her breath on his mouth. The soft tip of her nose nearly touched his. That close her eyes were darker, the glints of gold brighter. Her freckles weren’t pin-prick dots, but golden flecks spanning her plump, rosy cheeks. It felt like looking down on an upturned night sky. He suddenly felt heavy, pulled into her gaze. Like he could fall into the expanse and drift.

The happiness heavy in his chest and buzzing in his subvocals made his neck stiffen, hard, like he couldn’t swallow, and a little keen broke from his throat.

“You ok?” she asked. “We can slo—”

“I’m good,” he said, cutting her off before she could suggest they stop. “I just can’t believe we’re really doing this.”

Something gentle flickered in her eyes, reminding him that he was looking down at his best friend, which somehow relieved some of the pressure, but also made it so much worse. If this didn’t go well…

He slipped his gently pinched fingers through a lock of hair resting on her bare shoulder. It felt like a dream being able to touch her like this for no reason other than wanting to. He wasn’t inexperienced at all, but somehow he felt unprepared, like he was going to fumble this.

“Do you want to slow down?” he asked.

“Fuck no,” she said with a confident, relaxed grin that eased his nerves.

“Gotta apologize now,” he said and her brows lifted. “If this isn’t good I—”

Jane interrupted him by pressing a finger to his mouth. “It’s going to be good. I’ve never been with a turian, and you’ve never been with a human. But it’s us — we’ll figure it out together.” She cupped his mandible and he leaned into the comfort of her warm palm.

“Hey,” she said, “what have you wanted most, this whole time? What did you dream about?”

“You touching me,” he said, regretting it instantly because of the puerility of that simple desire, but she only smiled with a disarming tenderness. “Just you touching me,” he said again, the second time not an admission, but a declaration.

Her hand drifted down the length of his neck. “I’m about to make you very happy then, because I’ve been dying to touch you for such a long—” her fingers teased the sensitive skin at the dip between his throat and cowl “—long time.” Her fingers drifted down his keel, lower and lower, barely skimming his hide, shooting electric warmth down his spine, down the backs of his thighs, straight down into the arches of his feet. She made a playfully pained expression, teasing him. “Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” he said dumbly. If her fingers made him feel that good just by touching his stomach…

Her tripping fingers drifted down his stomach, to his hips, his ass. Her touch was slow, feeling out places on his body that ached to receive her attention, that hadn’t been touched by anyone in so long because all he wanted was her. Quivers built in his body, gathered in his chest, made his wet seam tense, sending tight pulses up his stiff cock.

Her hand drifted to his crotch, hovered by the head of his cock and a soft purr trickled from his throat. Drawn to the heat of her skin and pressure of her body, he touched the flat plane of his nose to the round tip of hers, and he waited for her hand to keep moving, keep touching.

Her lips grazed his mouth, almost touching but only teasing, as she spoke. “Do you know how much I’ve wanted to touch you like this? How much I’ve wanted to feel you in my hand?”

Her hand drifted lower, hovered over his heavy cock so close he could feel the heat of her hand, but not her touch. His breath held, heart swelled, violent pulses making his cock jerk towards her touch and his needy purr rippled like gravel on stone.

“You want me to touch you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice nearly a whine.

He braced himself for her hand wrapping tight around his aching cock, but she pulled her hand up, cupping his waist instead He almost growled in frustration but the frustration dissipated when she lifted her hips towards him, not quite meeting his but she was right there and his breath held again, waiting to feel the heat of her slick crotch press against his cock.

“You’re teasing me, Jane,” he growled.

“Yeah,” she admitted simply, proudly.

He tilted his hips seeking friction from her barely parted thighs. But before he could even touch the tip of his cock to her, she stole her hips back, sinking them into the cushion, tearing that frustrated growl from his throat. He shot his hand out to pin her hips down. She gasped — but a satisfied smile snuck out of her.

Playful Jane. She always taunted him so that he craved more of her, forcing him to prowl after her to satisfy his craving. She lifted her hand from his waist and let it fall above her head, resting next to the other, wrists touching. The position pushed her chest out. Her elbows and wrists laid against the cushion, gently bent, her fingers softly folded.

“You’re tense,” she said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “You should let me fix that.” Despite her bravado, she seemed even smaller while looking into his eyes — not diminished, but subdued. Nervous, yet excited, and vulnerable in a way that made his cock ache.

“You’d fix that like a bullet fixes a brain.” He spoke out of amusement and frustration, but he’d never spoken truer words. A laugh peeled out of her, making him chuckle too.

She liked this, though. Garrus held her gaze as he raked his other hand along the coarse cushion, through her silky hair, above her head to take one wrist in his hand, then her other, locking them together. Her trapped hands gathered into tight little fists. Sharp, excited breaths lifted her naked chest.

So many moments before they’d been close like this, pressed against each other, his hands pinning her, her hips shifting against him. All those times he’d been caught up in the moment of excitement and fun, all those moments he’d pulled himself away, frazzled and full of shame for enjoying the heat of her body and the way she folded within his hold, pliant and giggling.

Naked, cock painfully hard and hanging between them, he felt her body trapped under his hold, and he let himself enjoy it.

“I thought you wanted me to touch you?” Her voice was soft, but mercilessly teasing.

The teasing, spirits she knew exactly how to stoke his emotions. She had plenty of practice, though. Closeness was something they’d always fought for — they’d craved it secretly, and the only way they knew how to get it was to push back and forth until they were clinging so tight to whatever scraps they had that it made them breathless. Teases, taunts, reluctantly accepted hugs. It had been so confusing, but looking back, all the desperate attempts were easy to spot.

“I’ve realized something about you. Every time you instigated a wrestling match—” She scoffed. He ignored it, because she was always the instigator. “You always acted like you didn’t want to be caught.” He tried to give a sly grin. Mostly he felt desperate. “But I think you like being caught.”

“Garrus.” Her smile flashed, full of sweet fire. “Maybe I was trying to catch you, hm?” Her boast made his thoughts scatter. “Considering how quickly you always scooped me up and held me close, I think it worked.”

She knew that she’d dazed him, too, because her eyelashes batted, which would have made her look innocent to anyone who didn’t know her well. “I’m not being good, am I?” she said.

He nipped the curve of her jaw, punishing her soft skin between his hard lips. The pant that he pulled from her melted against his touch-starved hide. “You have no idea how to be good.”

When she spoke, feathery touches mingled with her taunting words, playing against his mouth. “Don’t you like that, though?”

His subvocals quivered. “Spirits, yes.”

How could she make him feel so weak while he held her perfectly still. Her body was trapped, she was unable to shift even an inch in his hold, and yet there she was commanding him with only her words and presence. The warring emotions, feeling both strong and weak, beat behind his keel. It disoriented him. Jane disoriented him.

“But I can be sweet.” Her voice was warm and dulcet, crawling over him like mela. The tip of her tongue snuck into his mouth, dragged under the sharp tip of his tooth. She should have feared his tooth slicing her tender tongue, but she didn’t.

He licked a line up her throat. “You’re always sweet.”

Jane lay still, her neck stretched from his tongue’s attention, her eyes locked on his, her patience beyond the snapping point. He saw it in her fiery gaze and felt it in the way her muscles strained against his hands.

An urge surfaced to soften all the sharp lines between them, smooth all the edges that had divided their parts, to wholly obliterate their need to steal closeness from each other in desperate bites, so that closeness would always be freely given.

“Tell me again you want this,” he told her, not because he doubted her desire, but because he wanted to hear her say it again. Those little words held him like a bite to the neck.

Her eyes were sharp and certain when she said, “I want this.”

Warning her with a stern gaze to be still, Garrus lifted his hand from her hip, slid it down her thigh, using firm pressure so that she was still anchored beneath his hold. With firm but tender pressure he directed her leg to the side, giving him room to sneak his hips between her thighs.

With a slow roll of his hips he dragged his cock against her crotch, sighing from the slipping friction. It was the faintest touch, only an ounce of pleasure when he wanted to drown, but it still made his mind melt. Jane took in a sharp breath, let her thighs fall to the side, completely open for his hips to settle against hers, and his subvocals trembled.

Jane looked ragged — tense and pleading. Her blunt white teeth dragged at her plump lips. The pulse in her wrist tapped against his palm. He pressed down until he felt her rigid bones against his palm, until her pulse pounded, until he forced a flickering wince from her, then a quiet whine.

Because it was impossible for her to ever just sit still, her back arched, chest pressed to his keel. “Garrus, if you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to beg.”

Garrus believed in doing something right, with intention and conviction. Jane believed in just fucking doing it. Compromises were never easy, because they were both stubborn.

He angled his mouth to her ear, grazing her earlobe with his teeth. “Then beg.”

He angled the head of his cock to rest on her cunt, so close to slipping inside her, but he held himself there, letting her wet heat warm him, feeling precum pumping out of his cockslit and slipping against her skin. And with her hips pinned she couldn't do anything about it.

Her eyes blazed with frustration and drove straight into him. She deserved it, though, so he gave her a pleased, mandible-flicking grin.

“Garrus,” she pleaded. The harsh edge of reprimand beneath her whine sent triumph pumping through his veins.

He bent his neck and tenderly, sweetly, pressed his nose to hers. After one quiet, calm breath shared between them he gave her what she wanted, what he wanted, and slipped inside of her. The tension and heat in her flesh, the nearly unbearable tightness, had his pulse ticking a frantic beat. Carefully, he fed his cock into her, watching her mouth fall open to release a hot breath. The moment his seam pressed to her cunt and every inch of his cock was inside her, her head tilted back and they sighed together, weak and soft.

Syllables stretched, dragged, as she mumbled, “fuck, thank you,” against his throat. He lifted his hand from her thigh and held his breath as she ground herself against him, sending blissful friction up the length of his cock.

It felt like his heart abandoned his ribcage so it could fall straight into hers. “Jane…” was all he could say, but the vulnerability and affection in his voice revealed just how much he adored her, and how much she stirred him.

His cock jerked so hard it sent skittering ache down his thighs and up his back. He rocked his hips, driving deeper with restrained strokes. With each rock Jane drew steady breaths that degraded to trembling whimpers.

But her cunt felt tense – tight as a vice. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Her thighs flexed on his hips, urging him to thrust. “It’s good,” she bit out, the tone in her breathy voice so thick it curled through his ears, down his neck, settled in his pounding heart.

“Does it hurt? Does it feel strange?”

“No,” she said, and smiled.

A moan gathered in her throat but she pressed her lips on it, turning it into a rough hum that rattled into his chest and shot sparks through his hips. He bucked his hips, rocking harder, dragging his cock, feeling her gripping him base to tip.

Pressure pounded at the base of his cock, his body tight with impatience, begging now, edging towards release with each buck of his hips.. It was too soon to swell, too soon to come, but his body wanted to so badly. He almost laughed, because his own body became something to wrestle with, just like Jane. It was just like her to do this to him, always taunting him, always begging him to gain a grain of control. And he’d only grasp that control for the smallest moment before it slipped away and he ended up strung out and run down. But happy, spirits she always left him happy.

“Keep your eyes open,” she told him and he nodded. “Your eyes are so fucking beautiful.” His heart swelled. The corner of her lip ticked up in a smirk before she added, “And I like you watching me.” A steady purr had been tickling behind his keel. Hearing that made it burst into a crackle.

“I'll swell before I come.” His words slipped between heavy huffs. Always a brat, she clenched her cunt on him so oppressively and deliciously tight he had to pull in a sharp breath. “If it starts to hurt, if it gets uncomfortable, tell me.”

She nodded, reassuring him by touching her mouth to his mandible, nuzzling him sweetly, like a turian would. He tilted his chin, sighing as her lips drifted to his neck. Every inch of her was softer than he imagined, but her lips, spirits, her lips were ascension, warm sun breaking a long horizon, stars settling in a night sky.

Her thighs flexed, she clenched down with a pressure so tight it made his hide shudder, his hips buck harder, cock straining for release. To angle her body, find the smallest inch of control and leverage, she slid her calves up his legs. When they caught on his spurs a little surprised sound came out of her. “Sorry,” she said and he shook his head, telling her not to worry. Their tight laughs pressed between panting breaths.

She dug her heels into the crook of his legspurs, using the barest leverage to move her hips with him, giving just the smallest drag of added friction, but each quick stroke sent him closer to tumbling over the edge.

The tip of his tongue flicked the roof of his mouth, but Jane’s neck was right there and finally he could feel her skin in his mouth, her heartbeat on his tongue. As if Jane could read his mind her head tilted back — a long and tender pathway. He bowed his back again so he could slip his tongue out to press against her pulse. It fluttered against his tongue and the base of his cock throbbed with demanding beats, straining, on the precipice of swelling.

A dizzying ache twisted behind his seam, forcing a bright keen from his throat. Driven by pleasure and pursuit he kept his tongue on the beat of her heart and let go, let his body blaze with crackling tension. Every inch of him tensed until his base swelled, the satisfaction like a gasp for breath, like chase and capture. The pressure inside Jane was so shockingly tight he slowed the drag of his cock and winced.

Garrus took his tongue from her pulse to check on Jane, his eyes searching hers for the slightest hint of pain or discomfort, or spirits, that she didn’t like the feeling of his swollen base, but his worry dissipated when he saw her bliss-wide smile and listed to her humming moans, so perfectly purr-like.

“It’s good,” her voice was strained, both begging and reassuring. Moans rippled out of her as her back arched up from the cushion. Her fingers dug into him, impatient and needy, easily pulling him back into the moment with her. “Fuck, I’m so close, don’t stop.”

So he kept going, no hesitation between that moment and making her come. Her body shifted slightly every time he moved, adding pleasurable friction that licked up his spine. Watching her body twisted and bent for him hypnotized him so thoroughly that he lost control of his hips. He crushed her wrists into the couch, anchoring her, the control over her body a compulsive fascination.

He placed his tongue on her lip to feel her moans rumble against his tongue. She opened her mouth to flick her tongue against his. The wetness of her mouth was strange but incredible — like precum dripping from a cockslit.

Where their hands pressed together in a tight knot her nails bit into his fingers and she nipped him again, the pain piercing the length of his neck. He nipped her skin in return making her gasp, and placed his tongue back on her pulse so he could feel her heart racing as he fucked her so hard the couch scraped against the floor.

Her eyes held him, with each breath, every thrust, he couldn’t stop looking into them, watching her every flicker of affection, every slow blink of pleasure. Her eyes went hazy, heavy, until her panting grew ragged and she closed them, then her mouth melted into his neck — soft lips, hot breath, wet tongue and a shocking, sharp nip pulled at his skin. With delicious pain crawling the length of his throat he lost his rhythm, his hips snapped, his attentive rocking strokes abandoned for impulsive, jagged thrusts and all that occupied his mind was the anticipated thrill of watching her come. He imagined her sharp cries, her open mouth.

“I wanna see you come.” His voice trembled with tension. “Come for me, Jane.”

Her feet curled against his thighs, knees dug into his hips, her whole body tensed. From hands to feet she suddenly stilled but her cunt jerked so tight it made him keen against her throat. His words had been a request, but she treated them as a command. Obeying them, she came with bright cries from her parted, trembling mouth.

Senses locked onto frantic pursuit, he wrapped his teeth around her neck, touched his soft tongue against her hammering pulse. With her heartbeat caught in his mouth he rolled his hips one last time felt her hips rocking perfectly with his felt one last drawn stroke and he came with her. His senses burst, spun, fell with Jane’s legs locked around him, heavy and tight.

For the first time in his life, Garrus experienced being so close to someone that they become a part of you, nestled down into your ribs, occupying a safe piece of your heart. Jane had always been there, but her place had never been something he was truly conscious of. He felt her there, finally, because he wholly wanted her there.

Wanted, that’s how he felt. His senses and thoughts fell to scattered bits, but he felt fully and wholly wanted.

“Good.” Jane huffed, drinking in air. “That was good,” she said with a giddy bounce in her voice that made Garrus’s heart leap.

He pressed his nose to hers, catching his racing breaths, struggling to lift himself out of a dizzying daze, but her scent hit his senses, heavy and sweet, pulling him down while he was trying to rise up. Those sweet little spots where her scent drenched her skin begged for his nose, his lips, his tongue. But it was too soon to scent with her, and humans don’t scent, what would she even think about that? They still had so much to talk about.

Garrus pulled himself back from that worry, and focused on Jane. Her steady breaths. The weight of her in his arms. She said it was good.

He opened his eyes just as she opened hers and those beautiful green irises danced with affection. She smiled and he smiled too.

Lying together — naked, smiling, breathless — they were nothing different, just more.

Chapter End Notes

> IT HAPPENED!! fucking finally, eh?

> also, i'm looking for a proofreader -- someone who can read over a chapter before posting just to help me spot little mistakes. i care very little about proper grammar (clearly), but i do care about little mistakes like missing words. if you're interested, or if you're a writer and just want to be friends (i'm always looking for more writing friends) reach out to me on tumblr.

## Afterword

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