Shepard
Just like before, Garrus walked with her from the docks, steps falling into an easy rhythm beside hers. He always did—right up to the point where their paths split.
“I’ll let you know if I find anything. But… Jane?” He tilted his head, brow plate quirking until she met his eyes. “Take some time to relax. Even you can’t keep going forever.”
She huffed a soft laugh. “I could say the same about you, Garrus.”
He shook his head and turned away, voice already fading with distance. “I’ll see you around, pyjak.”
That made her laugh. He always knew how to land the final blow.
But maybe he was right. Her shoulders ached with the weight of dead ends. And worrying wasn’t getting them any closer to a lead. Until they heard something concrete, all she could do was wait… and try not to pace a trench into the deck.
When her parents suggested dinner that night, she didn’t hesitate. It had been a long time since the three of them were in the same place at the same time. She let herself fall into it—just for a while.
Her mother had picked the restaurant, of course. Some sleek, overdecorated place in the upper wards where everything shimmered under soft lighting. Hannah always wanted to try somewhere new when she was on shore leave. Meanwhile, if it was up to her and her father, they would have found themselves in some little hole in the wall somewhere in the lower wards.
But they both went along with it. Her mom didn’t ask for much. And if she was being honest… she didn’t mind getting dressed up once in a while.
When she opened the closet, her eyes landed on the blue dress. The one she’d bought on a whim and never worn. More expensive than it had any right to be… but it had been love at first sight.
Tonight’s as good a night as any, she thought, reaching for it.
She pulled her brown leather jacket over her shoulders to dress it down, slipped on the boots that made her feel tall and grounded, and tied her hair up in a ponytail.
Not overdone. Not too much. Just… enough.
When they arrived at the restaurant, she and Selvek exchanged a knowing glance but said nothing. Then, without warning, her mother’s expression lit up as she waved toward someone.
Shepard followed her gaze—and froze.
Garrus.
He was leaning against the bar, drink in hand. The soft glow of the restaurant’s lighting caught the sharp angles of his plating, tracing the lines of his face. He looked relaxed, posture easy… but the slight twitch of his mandibles gave him away.
Then she saw the woman sitting beside him.
Oh.
Something settled in her stomach, heavy and unwanted. It wasn’t quite jealousy. Not exactly. It was the quiet, bitter realization that it would never be her sitting there with him like that.
She had known, logically, that he was probably still trying to date. Of course he is.
It made sense. The mission was stressful, dangerous—he needed an outlet. And there weren’t any options on the Normandy… not ones he was interested in, anyway.
Her mother, completely unaware of the derailment in her thoughts, smiled brighter and waved him over again.
Shepard barely resisted the urge to sink through the floor.
“Garrus!” Hannah called, warm and casual.
He turned, eyes scanning the restaurant until they landed on them. Shepard watched recognition flicker across his face—surprise first, then something unreadable—before his mandibles flared slightly and he started toward them.
He didn’t have a choice. Hannah had already invited him over.
Selvek, beside her, said nothing. But she felt his gaze flick her way. Sharp. Measuring.
Garrus reached them in seconds, his posture still slightly unsure, but his voice was steady.
“Staff Lieutenant, sir.” He gave both of her parents a respectful nod before turning to her. “Jane.”
She lifted her chin, forced the edges of a smile into place. “Garrus.”
Hannah, blissfully unaware of the sudden tension, gave him a knowing look. “Please, it’s just Hannah. Are you here alone? If you are, you should join us.”
And just like that, Shepard watched as Garrus probably regretted every decision he had made today. At least the choice of restaurant.
His mandibles twitched, shifting slightly as he hesitated.
“…No,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. “I’m on a date.”
She felt it then. The sting. Quick, sharp, and gone before it could settle. So fleeting she almost didn’t recognize it before she was already forcing it down.
She smothered it instantly. “Mom, my crew already spends enough time dealing with me. I don’t think they need to see more of me while they’re on shore leave.”
Her voice was even, laced with the kind of mild embarrassment that only parents could inflict.
Garrus hesitated again, like he’d caught something in her expression. But before he could say anything else, Hannah nodded in understanding.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” her mother said, smiling. “Maybe next time we can finally catch you, in person, when you’re free.”
Garrus cleared his throat and gave a short nod. “Yeah. Maybe next time.”
“Enjoy your night, Garrus.” Shepard added casually.
Then, just like that, he turned and walked back toward the bar. She didn’t watch him go. Didn’t let herself. She didn’t want to watch his date’s reaction. Watch as she probably put her hands all over him.
Instead, she turned back to her parents, pushing the entire moment away. Her father was still looking at her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t call attention to the fact that he had noticed.
But he had. He always did, and she could already feel the scrutinizing gaze. He knew. But she just pretended not to notice.
Instead, she exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “Come on,” she said, gesturing toward the host stand. “Let’s eat.”
And, with far more effort than it should have taken, she walked forward, leaving the moment behind her.
Garrus
The glass in his hand felt heavier than it should have. Though he wasn’t sure why.
He’d been in this exact situation before. The Citadel. A bar. A woman leaning in beside him, smiling like she already knew how the night would end. It was familiar. Routine.
And yet, something felt off. He should’ve been relaxed—this was supposed to be easy. That was the entire point. Blow off steam. Shut everything else out.
His date was talking, and he was nodding when he should, answering when expected. But none of it was landing.
His mind was elsewhere. On her.
He’d been fine until Hannah Shepard waved him over. Until he turned around and saw Jane standing there. In that dress.
And now? Now it was burned into his mind. The way the soft, blue fabric shifted when she moved—shorter in front and flowing low behind her. Strappy boots that made her legs look like a damn weapon. The way the leather bodice wrapped around her, structured and unapologetic beneath the edge of her jacket. Casual. Lethal. Effortless.
She didn’t just wear it. She was it. A study in contradictions. Just like the night of the concert.
And now he was sitting here, pretending to listen, while all he could hear was her voice.
“Enjoy your night, Garrus.”
Perfectly casual. Perfectly controlled. But… there had been something.
A flicker of something.
Something in her eyes, in the way she had looked at him before covering it up so seamlessly that he almost believed he imagined it. Almost.
His mandibles twitched, jaw tightening.
Beside him, his date shifted closer, fingers brushing against the plating of his forearm. “So… who was your friend?”
He blinked. It took him a second to realize she meant Jane.
“Oh.” He exhaled, rolling his shoulders in a weak attempt to ground himself. “That… was Jane.”
No. That wasn’t right. Not for her.
“Commander Jane Shepard,” he corrected.
His date smirked, head tilted. “The Spectre? You know the first human Spectre?”
Her tone was light. Almost dismissive. It made something inside him bristle.
“I… yeah. I serve under her.” His voice came out lower, quieter. His thoughts weren’t here.
They were with her. The sound of her voice. The line of her collarbone, the way the fabric dipped low in the back, just below the jacket.
He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He needed to focus. She was his Commander. His best friend. She was human.
And he didn’t—didn’t what, exactly? Didn’t have a fetish for humans? His jaw clenched.
His date leaned in closer, voice dropping. “So… your place or mine?”
There was a pause. Long enough that even she noticed. He forced a breath. “Let’s go back to your place.”
She smiled, clearly satisfied, and flagged the bartender. They paid the tab and left, stepping into the night.
As the door closed behind them, it should’ve been easy. His date was attractive. Confident. Interested. She didn’t make him guess. And for a few minutes, he let himself believe that was enough.
She leaned in. He let her. Their mandibles brushed, and her mouth traced lower—down his neck.
It should’ve worked.
But the moment his eyes closed?
Jane.
Spirits, not now.
She shouldn’t be in his head. Not here. Not like this. But there she was. The way she smiled at him that night at the ramen place, the way she threw her arms around him in the comm room. The way she looked tonight. Like she didn’t know what she was doing to him. Or maybe she did. Maybe that was the problem.
His body tensed. His date noticed. She pulled back, brow furrowed. “Something wrong?”
You’re not her.
He stepped back. Too fast. His mandibles twitched, and he already knew it was over. Because in that moment, it wasn’t confusion anymore. It wasn’t some vague attraction. Some hypothetical curiosity. This wasn’t about her being human.
It was Jane. And it always had been.
I don’t have a fetish for humans. Those had been his words to her. He almost laughed. He’d tried to believe it. It hadn’t been true then either.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “This isn’t going to work out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you serious?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
“Well,” she said, annoyed, resigned, “at least you figured it out now. I think you can see yourself out.”
And just like that, she walked away. No dramatics. Just the sound of the door closing behind her.
Garrus stood there in the silence. The apartment was too warm. Too still. Too…wrong. He exhaled hard, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. He had to move. Had to walk this off before his thoughts took him somewhere he wasn’t ready to go.
Shepard
Shepard tried to focus on dinner with her parents, but it wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped. She was going through the motions—responding, laughing, engaging. But Garrus was on a date. Just back there, half a room away, by the bar.
“Garrus seems nice,” Hannah’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, “He certainly seems to be taking care of you.”
“Mom…”
“Hannah, leave it.” Selvek interjected.
“What? “I’m just saying we should have him over for dinner. We only got to talk to him when he told us about the rachni,” Hannah added.
“I’m pretty sure my crew doesn’t need to be spending time with me or my parents while on shore leave.” Shepard’s tone was sharper than she intended.
“You know, that handsome young marine at the bar has been staring at you for quite a while…” Hannah’s words trailed off.
Shepard ordered another drink. She just needed to leave this place. She didn’t want to turn around. She certainly didn’t want some ‘handsome young marine’.
“Hannah.” Selvek warned.
“What? I’m just saying she’s on shore leave and it would be good for her to… relax…” Hannah said, letting the insinuation hang in the air.
“What could possibly go wrong with Commander Jane Shepard, N7 operative, first human Spectre, sleeping with some random handsome young Alliance marine while on shore leave…” Her tone was more frustrated than she intended.
She took a deep breath, then another sip of her drink, trying to ease her tone back down.
“Spirits help me…” She buried her face in her hands for a moment before looking back at her mother. “This is what I should remember the next time someone asks what it was like to grow up the way I did. My turian father managed to teach my human mother how to have no boundaries about my love life.”
“So you love him?” Selvek asked knowingly.
All color drained from her face as she shot a glare at her father. “Dad!”
Hannah and Selvek exchanged a glance. “Oh…Garrus? I see now… He is quite handsome… The blue markings play beautifully with the color of his plates…”
Shepard groaned, exasperated. “Alright, I love you both, thank you for dinner, but I think I’m done now. I’ll see you back at home,” she said, getting up and leaning across the table to kiss each of them on the cheek before leaving the restaurant.
Garrus
Garrus had been walking for nearly an hour. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just needed to move, to breathe. His apartment had been too warm, the walls too close, his own thoughts too loud.
His mandibles twitched as he exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. He had spent the entire night trying to force himself to feel something for the woman he had left at her apartment. Trying to convince himself that nothing had changed. That he was still him. That nothing about Shepard in that dress, nothing about the way she had looked at him, nothing about the way his stomach had twisted at the words “Enjoy your night, Garrus” had affected him.
But he couldn’t. Because now? Now he was painfully aware of the truth.
He didn’t just want her. He needed her.
It wasn’t just some thought in the back of his mind anymore, something to ignore or push aside. No. Something had fundamentally shifted.
And then he looked up. His breath hitched.
She was sitting at a small taco stand tucked into the side streets of the wards, the kind that felt more real than the high-end restaurants in the Presidium or upper wards.
Her jacket was slung over the stool next to her, leaving her exposed. The tattoo—the crescent moon, the wing, the blade—was visible in the low light, the blue ink standing out against her skin. The one that she had let him drag his talons across.
It still didn’t cease to amaze him she had.
The contrast of her outfit shouldn’t have worked, but it did. The soft, flowing fabric of the dress, the hard edges of the leather jacket, the dangerous elegance of the over-the-knee boots—all of it was just… her.
She was effortlessly beautiful. And this time, for the first time, Garrus truly saw it.
Not just as something to observe, not as something abstract. He had told himself that he wasn’t attracted to humans but Jane… she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He looked around, finding no one else nearby. Was she alone? Why was she alone? She had been with her parents just hours ago and now she was here. Just sitting there as if the rest of the world around her didn’t exist.
Shepard looked untouchable tonight.
He watched her for a while. Watched as a human walked up to talk to her. She smiled. But not genuinely. The practiced smile of Commander Shepard being pleasant. Then she simply nodded, waving off the man who had just walked up to her, likely to flirt.
Why did she turn him down?
His throat went dry.
She took a sip of her beer, tapping her fingers idly against the counter, lost in thought. She hadn’t noticed him and for a moment, he just… stood there. Debating.
This was his last chance to walk away. To keep pretending. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a breath, and finally stepped forward.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, his voice lower than usual.
Shepard turned, her gaze meeting his, and Garrus felt something in his chest tighten.
She didn’t look surprised. She just smiled.
And damn it all, that was it.
He sat down next to her. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want to leave, so he ordered something—didn’t even think about what it was, just pointed at the menu and let the vendor do the rest. Because this wasn’t about the food.
This was about her.
Shepard sat beside him, one elbow resting lazily on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, the dress riding up just enough to show more of her thigh than she probably realized.
Not that he needed reminding of why his brain had short-circuited earlier. That damn dress had already taken up permanent residence in his memory.
She didn’t say anything at first, just glanced over as the vendor handed him a plate. Her eyes were sharp but easy, the same way she always looked at him.
That was the problem.
Because she didn’t know. Didn’t know what she was doing to him, how that dress had ruined him, how she’d been the only thing in his damn head since he walked away from her at that restaurant. She didn’t know that when he kissed his date, he had thought about her.
And now? Now he was sitting next to her, pretending he could still be the man he was before tonight.
She raised a brow, smirking. “Didn’t expect to see you again tonight.”
Garrus exhaled, forcing himself to sound normal. “Yeah, well. Plans changed.”
She didn’t question it. Didn’t press. Just took another bite of her taco, easy and comfortable. And that was worse. Because to her, this was nothing. Just another night, just another conversation. She had no idea he was barely holding himself together.
He took a bite of the food in front of him, chewing slowly, trying to distract himself, but it wasn’t working. Nothing was working. His eyes flicked to her again—her jacket still draped over the stool beside her, her back still bare.
That tattoo. He had seen it before. Had traced the ink with his fingers. But now? Now, it felt different. Because now, his mind supplied another image entirely. That tattoo, her back arched beneath his hands. Beneath his mouth.
Spirits. Stop.
He clenched his jaw, gripping his glass tighter.
Then, just as he was barely keeping it together, she did something small. Innocuous.
She wiped a bit of sauce off the corner of his mouth with her thumb, smiling at him. That same smile from the night of the concert.
It was casual. Perfectly normal. Or it should have been. But it wasn’t. Not to him.
Garrus went completely still.
Then he heard it. Her heartbeat quickened. It had been steady before, slow and easy. Now? Now, it wasn’t.
She noticed. Her hand pulled back too fast. “Sorry.”
Her voice was different. Just barely. Just enough.
His heart was hammering because that meant something.
Her heart had betrayed her.
For the first time, Garrus realized he wasn’t the only one unraveling. It suddenly all made sense. The night of the concert, the way she rushed him in the comm room.
“So what happened to your date?” she asked, taking another sip of her beer.
Garrus nearly choked. “What?”
Shepard quirked an eyebrow. “Your date, back at the restaurant? Where’d she go?”
He exhaled. “Didn’t work out.”
Shepard tilted her head. “Oh?”
He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Wasn’t in the right headspace.”
She watched him for a moment. Then she smirked and leaned back. “What, Vakarian? And here I thought turians were supposed to be the experts of casual encounters.”
He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts, but it didn’t seem to work. He leaned in, just slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Alright, Shepard. What do you say we get out of here?”
She looked up at him, blue lights flickering against her skin, and for a moment, his heart stopped.
Because she didn’t hesitate.
She just smiled, finishing the last sip of her beer. “Let’s go.”
Garrus
They walked in easy silence, neither of them in a hurry, neither of them needing to say much.
Shepard had draped her jacket over her shoulders again, but the back of her dress still dipped low, her tattoo peeking through the bottom. Garrus told himself he wasn’t looking. Except he absolutely was.
He should have been thinking about where they were going. But instead? He was thinking about how her heartbeat had spiked when she touched him.
About how she hadn’t said no. About how she always said yes to him when she seemed to say no to everyone else. She was here, with him.
That’s when he spotted it: A combat arcade.
Sparring rings, VR combat simulations, even an old-fashioned shooting range.
He smirked, nudging her elbow. “Well, this seems more like your speed.”
Shepard turned, following his gaze. Then she smiled. “You up for a round, Vakarian?”
Garrus scoffed, crossing his arms. “In case you forgot, Shepard, you’re still wearing that dress.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “And?”
He tilted his head. “And I just don’t want to embarrass you in front of an audience.”
Shepard laughed, already heading for the entrance. “Guess we’ll find out.”
Inside, the arcade hummed with activity—the crack of simulated gunfire, the thud of fists against training dummies, the electronic beeps of score tallies. Garrus headed toward the counter to pay for a ring.
Shepard reached for her credit chit. “I’ve got it.”
He waved her off. “I can pay for a sparring ring, Jane.”
“Garrus, I’m a Spectre. I probably make more than you.”
“Probably?” He quirked a brow plate. “Try definitely. Doesn’t mean I can’t pay.”
She smirked, but there was something in her eyes—like she was testing something. “You know, if I let you pay, someone might get the wrong idea.”
He paused. “What idea?”
“That this is a date.”
The words landed harder than they should have. He forced his mandibles into something resembling amusement, kept his voice light. “Pretty sure sparring doesn’t count as a date, Jane.”
“Guess it depends who you ask.” She shrugged, smiling, but her heartbeat—spirits, her heartbeat had kicked up again.
He just paid. Didn’t trust himself to say anything else.
A date?
Was this a date? Did she want it to be?
And if it was…Get it together, Vakarian. She was joking…right?
Shepard made her way over to the ring, already taking off her boots. The move made her just slightly shorter, more grounded—but no less stunning.
A few people had started to notice. Whispers. Sideways glances. Someone muttering, “Is that Shepard?”
She either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
She cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders. “I can take you in a dress, Garrus. Question is, do you think you can take me?”
His mandibles twitched. This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. And yet? He stepped into the ring anyway.
She grinned, settling into a ready stance.
From the moment the match started, Garrus knew he was in trouble. She was fast—ducking, weaving, sidestepping him like she was born for this. The dress didn’t slow her down. If anything, she seemed faster. Or maybe he was just that distracted.
She wasn’t just fighting. She was playing with him.
And spirits, he wanted to let her.
But he wasn’t about to make it easy.
She came in low, and he blocked. She pivoted fast, but he countered. She moved to sweep his legs, but he sidestepped.
And yet the entire time, all he could think about was how good she looked doing it. That distraction cost him.
It wasn’t much. Just a fraction of a second too slow. And that’s all she needed.
He hit the mat hard. The wind knocked from his lungs as she pinned him, her knee pressed against his ribs, her hands braced against his chest.
There was a smattering of applause from the growing crowd, some people cheered. Someone whooped.
Garrus barely registered it.
She was so close. Her breath just slightly uneven, her pupils blown.
His entire world narrowed to this moment.
He swallowed. “Alright, Jane,” he murmured. “You win.”
She didn’t move immediately. She just stayed there. Watching him. Then her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
And now? All thoughts that weren’t about her, about the way she would feel in his arms, were gone.
She finally let him up, offering her hand. He took it.
He should have left it at that. Should have walked away.
But before he could stop himself, the words left his mouth. “Want to grab a drink? My place?”
She hesitated for a second, then smiled. “Always.”
Spirits help him. He had no idea where this was going, but he couldn’t walk away. Not now.