Author's Note: This story was written for a prompt on the Mass Effect kink meme.

The scenario is an AU where Garrus is a Spectre and Shepard becomes a member of her team. It's set in a world where the First Contact War went on for the better part of thirty years, and where Garrus and Shepard first met on opposite sides ("Enemies Like You And Me").

The sexual language and detail are akin to what you'd find in a Silhouette Nocturne paranormal romance novel, and since those are sold on the public shelves at Wal-Mart (and not in erotic bookstores) I feel that their level of sexuality is appropriate for the M rating here. Also, there's a good deal of cussing. Hey, they're at war.

This story is part two of a trilogy (the first and third parts being "Enemies Like You and Me" and "Partners Like You And Me.") It's set in an alternate universe and has nothing to do with either my regular storyline ("Where Angels Fear To Tread"/ "Closer to Home") or the renegade!Garrus in "Man of Dust."

This is a sequel to "Enemies Like You And Me." Because once a good AU gets started, it's hard to stop. Third part forthcoming.

Allies Like You And Me

Five years after "Enemies Like You And Me"

She'd never even gotten his name.

C-Sec Captain Jane Shepard of Citadel Security sat at her desk and wondered why she was thinking of him now, the turian sniper she'd encountered on Oya so long ago. She'd had five years to get over him. Five years to forget what it had been like to lose her squad, to be pursued by batarian raiders, to be forced into a survival situation with an enemy soldier in a similar position.

Five years to forget the best sex she'd had, before or since.

She shook her head, telling herself that it had only been sex. She hadn't liked him; he hadn't liked her. They'd screwed each other out of desperation, because there were no turian females and no human men in that hangar on Oya, because they'd been cold and lonely and frightened and they'd both needed something the other could give.

But they'd been good together, and not just in bed.

The First Contact War had ended three years ago. Finally. The Citadel Council's asari and salarian representatives had hemmed and hawed, reluctant to play referee to a dispute they felt that humans and turians should settle for themselves. They'd ignored the turian representative's insistence that they combine forces to smash humanity, but they'd also refused to intervene. That is, they'd refused until the humans—by now completely terrified of anything alien—began lashing out at innocent vessels and colonies belonging to other species. They'd refused until the fallout of the turian/human war began threatening to leave entire regions of space uninhabitable. They'd refused until pirates and criminals, emboldened by the turians' distraction, started to increase their activities.

And so the war was ended, though not without cost. There were now five member species on the Council. Humanity would not concede peace unless it was given a seat. The turians would not concede peace unless they could be assured that Humanity would be outvoted, and so the volus also got a seat—and, as a client race of the turians, they always voted with the turians. It wasn't exactly justice. But at least the galaxy was no longer tearing itself apart.

The Citadel, however, was rife with turian/human violence. The war had left deep grudges. Law and order had to work overtime to keep a lid on it.

Sometimes Shepard was frustrated by the amount of red tape she had to endure. There were several known agitators—humans and turians alike—and with them behind bars, her job would be a lot easier. Unfortunately, even though everyone knew they were guilty, no one seemed able to lock them away. They were either protected by diplomatic immunity, or intimidated everyone who could testify against them, or were very good at covering their tracks.

To deal with the turian/human friction, they'd needed human officers. And Shepard—due in no small part to the incident on Oya—was tired of the Alliance military. She'd left for C-Sec as soon as the hostilities had ended. Shepard had been promoted very quickly within C-Sec due to her willingness to work cooperatively with turians. She'd never dared tell anyone why.

One of those turians knocked on her door and then stuck his head in. "There's someone here to see you, Captain," said one of her junior officers. Sergeant Haron. He was a good kid.

Shepard groaned. She'd been trying all day to find a way around the regulations and get some surveillance on a volus she knew was crooked, but who somehow managed to conceal his involvement in a host of criminal activities. She was tired and frustrated and all she really wanted right now was some alone time with her memories of, and fantasies about, her turian.

And maybe her vibrator, too.

Haron stepped inside her office and lowered his voice. "It's a Council Spectre."

Shepard raised her eyebrows Spectres were trouble; her boss, Executor Pallin, hated them and she was inclined to agree. They weren't accountable to anyone. They could get away with anything, legally.

They could do something about those troublemakers and no one would stop them. I'll bet Spectres don't have to deal with red tape.

It was a tempting thought.

"What does he want with me?"

"Wouldn't say, ma'am."

She frowned. It sounded like this Spectre had an attitude problem. "What's his name?"

"Vakarian." Haron stepped into the office and shut the door, clearly rattled.

Shepard's frown became an outright scowl. "Like Bastion Vakarian? The former Commissioner?" Vakarian and Pallin were old buddies, and Vakarian was often hanging around, visiting Pallin and grumbling about criminals, humans, and Spectres, not necessarily in that order. She could see her day going from bad to worse.

"It isn't the Commish, ma'am. He's got the same colony facepaint but…" Haron shivered. "He looks like bad news. Scars all down the right side of his face, and… When I told him I worked with you, he gave me this look, like he'd like to tear off my mandibles and shove them down my throat."

"Tell him I'll be right out."

Haron nodded and withdrew.

Shepard shoved herself to her feet. Fuck it. She wasn't scared of any fucking Spectre, no matter how big and bad he thought he was.

Shepard skirted her desk and opened her door. Stepped out. Froze.

The Spectre was an imposing sight, dressed in cobalt blue body armour that was well-kept and neatly polished but also showed the signs of being put to good use. He clearly didn't wear it just for show; the bullet dents and scorch marks were proof of that. Shepard was also willing to bet that there was a hell of a story behind his scars, and she could see that part of his jaw, and maybe more, had been replaced by cybernetic implants. He had a sniper rifle clipped to his back and she knew he knew how to use it. But none of that was enough to intimidate her.

It was those blue eyes—or rather, the one eye that wasn't covered by a heads-up display—that rooted her to the spot.

Her turian.

"Hello, Shepard," he said, in a voice she'd never forgotten.

"Hello." She was staring at him. She couldn't help it. "How did you find me?"

"I heard your name on the comm when your people came to pick you up from Oya."

And he'd remembered it for five years.

He held out his hand. "We've, er, not been properly introduced." She picked up on the slight stumble in his words. She imagined he didn't do that very often. And she almost missed his name. "Garrus Vakarian."

She reached out to shake his hand. Her hand was trembling. She didn't trust herself not to throw her arms around his neck, press her body against his….kiss him, even, right in front of Sergeant Haron and the rest of her coworkers. He was her turian. He was here, right in front of her. And he had a name.

Vakarian released her hand—reluctantly, she hoped. "I have a proposition to discuss with you," he said.

"I bet you do." The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of them. Stupid. They weren't at war any more, and he was a Spectre. He deserved some respect.

And five years had passed and he'd probably found lots of people to screw in the meantime.

Garrus only smirked. "All right, I have two propositions for you." He released her hand. "Will you come for a walk with me?"

"Why not?"

Sergeant Haron gave her a worried look, but she waved him off. She wasn't afraid of her turian, even if he was a Spectre now.

"I'm here about Nirvana Prime," he said quietly as they walked along the hallways of the Citadel. Garrus seemed to know where he was going; for now, she was content to follow his lead. "Have you heard the news?"

"Isn't that the turian colony that got attacked by geth?"

Vakarian nodded. "There's more to it than that. The geth are under the control of a rogue Spectre. They found a Prothean beacon, and they're up to something. I know it."

"A rogue Spectre?" There was bad news if she'd ever heard it.

He nodded. "Captain Anderson," he said grimly.

She knew the name. Every human did. "Oh, shit," she muttered. "The first human Spectre."

"Yes. Oh, shit is right. The Council's ordered me to stop him. Or rather, four out of five Council members have ordered me to stop him. The human Councilor, Udina, is throwing a fit and insisting that Anderson is innocent, but nobody else is listening."

"So why did you come to me? You think I want to help you discredit my own species?"

"I came to you because this mission is a setup. You're right, the turian and volus councilors are hoping to use this incident as an excuse to prove that humanity isn't ready for the power it's been given. But I think they're wrong, and I'm going to turn this whole thing back on them. If you—a human—join this mission as my executive officer, and if we—together—taken down Anderson, then the whole Council is going to have to admit that humans are willing to police their own, and that Anderson is an unfortunate exception and not a representative of your species as a whole."

Shepard nodded. His logic was sound. Except…

"Why me?" she asked him. "There are humans in Spectre training right now. Why not ask one of them?"

His crystal blue eyes slid over to her. "Because I know I can work with you," he said quietly. "And I know I can trust you."

She thought of Oya and found herself suddenly speechless.

"Everyone is going to be waiting for our partnership to fall apart," he murmured. "Unless—did you tell anyone what happened on Oya?"

I had a torrid two-week affair with an enemy combatant.

"Hell no."

"Me either." He flared his mandibles in a turian grin. "Which means nobody knows that I'm gambling on a sure thing."

Shepard crossed her arms. "You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you, Garrus Vakarian? What makes you think I'm just going to up and leave C-Sec to follow you?"

"Don't you find C-Sec a little…restrictive? A lot of red tape?"

Shepard scowled. How did he read her mind like that?

"I would, if I were you." Another turian grin. "And if Oya is any indication, you don't like to follow rules any more than I do."

"Takes one to know one, I guess."

"Oh, I don't have to follow rules. I'm a Spectre."

"You any relation to Bastion Vakarian?" Shepard asked.

His easy smile vanished. "He's my father," Garrus growled.

"Oh." She looked at the ground. "Sorry I asked."

"I don't get along with him."

"Well, we kind of have that in common."

Garrus laughed, and Shepard suddenly felt better.

"He tried so hard to get me to join C-Sec. I took my own path instead. I knew the bullshit would make me crazy. The way it's driving you crazy right now."

Shepard was looking for an answer to that when the turian paused and pointed out through a nearby viewport. "Here, this is what I wanted to show you. That's my ship."

Shepard took a look. Stared. Looked again, closer this time. "I've never seen a ship like that before. What is it?"

"It's a prototype. Composite turian and human design. Her name is the SR-1 Normandy." His mandibles flared. "Would you like to take a look?"

Shepard couldn't resist the prospect of a closer look at the ship, but as they walked to the docks, she listened to her heart hammering in her chest and wondered if she was crazy to even be considering this.

Former enemies. A relationship based on sex and desperation. An affair that ended five years ago. None of those were promising starts.

His mission sounded like a good cause, and it would certainly be a nice change from the tedium of C-Sec, but she wasn't sure it was a good idea. She was already fighting the urge to take her turian's hand.

Garrus. His name was Garrus.

She nodded absently at the ship's mechanics, a turian named Lilihierax, and his quarian associate, Tali nar Rayya. She thought she saw a scarred krogan lurking in the shadows. There was even a human on the team already, a soldier called Ashley Williams, who gawked at her and Garrus as they passed. Shepard also noticed the sleek female turian who was the ship's navigator giving her a dirty look.

"Never mind Aquila. She's a little old-fashioned," Garrus murmured.

The ship was amazing, but Shepard couldn't keep her mind on the tour that the Spectre was giving her. Her brain insisted on flashing back in time. Her and her turian…Garrus…having sex all over that hangar on Oya. Hard and fast on the hood of a turian aircraft. Long and slow in a sleeping bag in front of a fire. Together in the shower, where the steady stream of water could rinse their mouths and minimize the dangers of sampling each other's fluids during round after round of oral sex… She felt weak in the knees. How was she supposed to look at the Normandy's galaxy map without wondering how it would feel to be splayed out on top of it with Garrus on top of her?

"And this is my cabin," he said, opening the door.

She took a peek inside. Yes, it was the typical small, spartan military cabin, except that it had a large double bed. Shepard felt two emotions rise up within her. One was greed. She wanted in that bed with Garrus. The other was envy. She hated whoever else had been in it with him in the five years since Oya.

"Would you like a private tour?"

"To discuss that second proposition of yours?" she asked with a smirk.

"We could."

Shepard felt suddenly torn. It would be very easy for her to step across that threshold and find out if he was still as hot for her as she was for him. On the other hand, she'd had a thing for him for five years, and it had wrecked her ability to be satisfied by a human lover. The last thing she needed was to get re-addicted all over again.

He noticed her hesitation. "Maybe some other time," he said quietly.

"No." She grabbed his hand. "Right now."

God, was she an idiot? She had him this close to a bed, and she was about to let him get away? What would she do then—go back to fantasizing all by herself? To hell with that! She should make the most of him while she had him.

The Spectre grinned. "Whatever you say."

She felt a little embarrassed to have practically dragged him into his own cabin, but he didn't seem to mind as he closed the door behind them and locked it.

Once in his cabin, though, she started having second thoughts. Third thoughts. Fourth…whatever number they were on. Yes, she wanted him, but she had a little self-respect. A lot of time had gone by, and there was something she had to know before she flung herself at him.

"Are you married?" she blurted.

"No." Garrus seemed amused by the question. "Are you?"

"No." Shepard paused. "Girlfriends?"

"Nothing permanent. Boyfriends?"


She slid her eyes over towards him. He was looking back at her. She felt a sudden heat rise up in her lower belly; her clit was tingling and she could feel herself getting wet, just from the way he regarded her.

Vakarian stalked towards her. Turians might be somewhere on the evolutionary scale between reptilian and avian, but in this moment he reminded her of a big cat on the prowl. "So you're telling me there's no reason why we shouldn't do this," he said, laying a hand on her shoulder, and dear God, after five years his touch still made her burn.

"Er, I can think of some reasons…" she protested, realizing the irony in the fact that she was the one who'd broached the topic.

"And what are those?" he purred silkily.

"Um, that you're my commanding officer…" Shit, she was talking like she'd already accepted his offer.

He chuckled. "And this is a turian ship."

Oh. Right. A military where screwing your shipmates wasn't just allowed, it was encouraged.

His tongue slid down the side of her neck. She found her hands on his waist somehow; she didn't remember moving them, and now she was a little embarrassed because she knew what touching him there did to him…

…okay, pretty much the same as what he was doing to her right now did to her. His hands slid from her shoulders, down her back, to cup her ass and draw her hips against his.

"I thought it was a joint turian/human project," she murmured against his neck.

"I'm all in favour of a joint turian/human project right here and right now," he growled.

And oh, God, she wanted to, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to release him, to step back, and to shove him away from her, gently but firmly. "No."

His mandibles flared with shock. "What do you mean, no? Do you know what you've done to me, these last five years?"

She balled her hands into fists. "If I'm supposed to help you find this Anderson, I need to focus on the mission. I can't be flying into an emotional fit every time you bring a different crew member into your cabin for the night. And I know already there's no god damned way I can do that if I let you touch me even one second longer." Her jaw quivered. She bit her tongue and forced herself not to cry. Truth be told, it was already too late for her to keep her head level where he was concerned.

The big, bad Spectre sat down on his bunk and regarded her strangely. "Shepard…Jane…what makes you think I'd be interested in anyone but you?"

"Fuck," she whispered. "Don't do this to me."


God damn it, the way he said her name…

"It's been five years!" she snapped. "Where the hell were you?"

"Three years of our people trying to kill each other, and after the truce, do you think you were easy to find? Do you think humans would want to tell a turian where another human was? They probably thought I was hunting you down to murder you. And all I had to go on was your last name and the fact that you were on Oya at one point in your life." She could hear the years of tension and frustration in his voice, but…

"You said you had girlfriends!" she said accusingly.

"You had boyfriends too, didn't you?" he countered.

She was silent. She couldn't deny it. It was just that…

"They didn't satisfy you, did they?"

"Oh, you think you were that good?" she muttered, even though the truth was that he really was.

He looked at the floor instead. "That's how it felt to me," he said quietly. "In bed, out of bed. None of them were like you. None of them were a match for me. I tried so hard to find a turian woman like you and I couldn't do it." He dragged his gaze back to hers and gave her a rakish grin. "In five years not one of my girlfriends has tried to stab me with a combat knife and I've got to say it's been really disappointing."

She gawked at him incredulously, and damn it all, she couldn't help herself. She laughed.

He laughed too, and the next thing she knew she was sitting on his lap, her arms looped around his neck.

"So what are you asking me?"

He grinned. "I'm asking you out on a date to run down a rogue human captain, stop the geth attacks and save the galaxy."

"No other women?" she whispered.

"No other men?" he parried slyly.

"Deal," she said.

"Agreed," he replied, and then he licked her neck again. My God, that tongue…

"Does this cabin have a shower?" she whispered.

"It does," he murmured.

"Oh, God," she said, and then she was kissing him.

Sweet. He tasted sweet, just like she remembered. She let his tongue touch hers, just once—she remembered her mouth feeling swollen after the Oya mission, she knew she was a little bit allergic and she ought not to swap too much spit with him, but dear God, surely one kiss was all right. After that she contented herself with stroking his fringe while he picked her up and carried her through the door in the corner of his room.

The captain's bathroom was small—just a shower and toilet—but it didn't really have to be big. She had no intention of being very far away from him.

He set her down on her feet, in the shower because there was no room outside it, and gently took the collar of her uniform jacket in his hands.

Shepard grinned. "Strip. We wouldn't want you bringing anything dry in here."

Their first time, he'd been in possession of a sleeping bag. He'd made her strip because her clothes had been wet. She was mocking him, and he knew it, and from the way his eyes shone, he loved it.

He didn't even argue that she was his subordinate now. She said the word, and moments later, his armour was out the door, with his bodysuit and her uniform right behind it.

She was still in her underthings when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mandibles against her collarbone. "I've missed you so much," he growled. "You have no idea."

"Are you going to rip my bra off again?" she asked, remembering the last time. The bra had been unrepairable. She'd had to go over two weeks without one. Granted, near the end they hadn't even bothered getting dressed between rounds…

"Not this time." He growled deep in his throat. "Now I know enough to tease you first…."

He let his tongue creep out, licking her nipples through the fabric of her bra. Slowly, the moisture of his tongue seeped through, making her nipples tantalizingly wet. She felt the smooth caress of silky cloth with soft turian tongue behind it and yes, it was good, but she wanted the real thing—his raspy tongue with nothing in between it and her skin…

She needed out of this bra right now. She reached back, undid the clasp. No sooner was it loose than he was nuzzled up under it, lapping her nipple, not caring that her shoulder strap was tangled in his fringe.

She laughed, cried, bit her lip in order to focus long enough to discard the bra, and then he was holding her, caressing her with his tongue, while one of his hands fumbled for the controls of the shower…

Warm water cascaded down over them both. She watched in fascination as he worked his way down her body until he was on his knees before her.

"I've got a Spectre on his knees," she murmured, her voice hoarse. The idea turned her on like she wouldn't believe.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" He didn't seem to mind from the smug look on his face. "Allow me to make an eloquent argument for you joining this mission."

He gripped the sides of her panties and pulled them down to her knees. She stood absolutely still as the tip of his tongue made contact with her bud.

He held position for a moment, watching her watching him, and then he licked her clit, from the tip up to the base, and smiled at her.

Shepard's thighs trembled. Her hands rose to her own breasts, rubbing her nipples. She needed to spread her legs wider for him.

"Take them off," she asked. Her voice cracked. "Please."

He grinned, slipped his talons under the sides of her panties, and slit the sides open—first the left leg, then the right.

"Garrus! I can't not wear underwear out of here!"

"Let me apologize."

He licked her again. Slowly. So slowly.

"Forgiven?" he murmured against her bud. His mandibles tickled her inner thighs, practically at the curve of her ass.

She didn't know it was humanly possible to be this turned on.

"Yes," she whimpered.

Garrus hesitated for a moment, letting the droplets from the shower wash his tongue clean before he returned to his, ah, eloquent argument as he put it. He gently parted her flesh, stroking it with his tongue. He sampled her, found her to his liking, licked a little harder, flicking her clit first from one side, then the other. His talons curled around her ass, supporting her while his mandibles tickled her upper thighs. He squinted happily, as though he'd found himself a treat so good he didn't dare rush when he could savour instead…

Shepard bit down on her lip, trying to force her knees not to buckle, trying to hold this position just a little bit longer…

She couldn't.

Her knees gave way, and she collapsed in front of him.

"Surrender?" he purred.

"Fuck me," she begged, her voice broken. "Fuck me, Garrus."


"What?" Tears spilled from her eyes. She felt smashed, devastated. Had he brought her here just to humiliate her?

He grabbed her, drew her body against his. His blue eyes looked at her, through her, into her soul. "Say make love to me, Garrus." He hesitated. "Please."

He was serious, and oh God, if this was more than sex, then…

She had to be sure. "You…" She choked, swallowed, tried again. "You can only do that if you really do love me."

"Yes," he agreed. "And if you ask."

On Oya he'd asked her to be his mate. He seemed to have some fetish for asking, or maybe it was a turian thing, she didn't know. What she did know was how surreal, how empowered, and how incredibly sexy she felt when she said, "Make love to me, Garrus."

He flicked the shower off and picked her up in his arms, carrying her to his bed and laying her on top of it. He took a condom out of his bedside table, put it on, and slipped into the bed beside her. Gently, Garrus nudged her onto her side and lay down facing her, the way they had been in that sleeping bag five years ago on Oya.

Shepard felt as though she were in a dream—no, as though she were in one of her own fantasies. The one where she replayed how it had felt that very first time. Her favourite.

Her breasts against his rough chestplates. Her knee on his waist, and now she knew exactly how much that turned him on. His hard shaft against her clit, now swollen from the ministrations of his tongue.

She suddenly felt it important that he know that she hadn't been out fucking every turian she saw since the truce. "It's been five years since I slept with a turian," she murmured. "Let's see if I remember how."

His eyes widened. "You haven't been with any…"

"Just you."

He smiled. "It's been five years since I slept with a human," he replied, and before she could ask, "Just you."

"Would you like to be my mate?" she asked him with a smile.

"Yes," he answered hoarsely, and thrust into her.

She trembled with anticipation, because she knew what was coming. She knew he would swell inside her, and keep swelling until he met resistance. She knew that as he fucked her, she'd get looser, and he'd keep expanding, and that slow, gradual expansion would drive him insane. And she knew that she'd take his shaft into her until her clit was riding the armoured ridge at his base and she'd pleasure herself thoroughly against him.

And yet knowing was so different from experiencing.

She'd known it was going to be good, but somehow she'd forgotten how good. Tears spilled from her eyes at the sensations he gave her. She'd been craving this for years, five years of withdrawal, and now that she was finally getting her satisfaction the pleasure was almost overwhelming.

"Garrus," she mewed.

He went very still inside her. She gasped at the sudden removal of sensation. The building pleasure suddenly dissipated, leaving her falling. She clutched at him, digging her fingers uselessly into the thick armoured plates on his back, and she begged. "Garrus, please!"

He surged against her, murmuring her name over and over. "Jane. Shepard. Jane."

"Garrus!" she cried, as her body quivered in something that was not quite an orgasm. It was more like a tremor, an indication of things to come.

"Jane!" He thundered against her, his mandibles gaping, his eyes wide, and yet he kept looking at her, as though he dared not look away, as though she might disappear if he closed his eyes. She knew how he felt. The sensations tearing through her were making her eyes water and her body tremble, but she couldn't close her eyes either. She fought to keep her eyelids open until her orgasm overwhelmed him and her shouts of his name became an incoherent scream. Seconds later, his howl merged with hers, and then it was over and they were clinging to one another, tightly, desperately tightly, as though afraid to let go.

"Oh, God, I think the crew heard that," she said, her voice on the verge of hysteria.

"The crew can get used to it," he said, his voice hoarse. He discarded his condom, then turned back to her and held her close, running his talons through her hair. "You…you are going to come with me, aren't you?"

"I just came with you, asshole."

"Jane, I'm serious."

She stared at him. He looked strangely vulnerable, despite that vicious scar on his cheek and the cold cybernetics lacing his jaw.

"I really put my mark on you, didn't I?" she whispered incredulously.

"You put two on me," he whispered. "One on my heart."

"And the other?"

"Right here." He caught her wrist in her hand, guided it to a place near where a human's rib cage should be. A long, jagged scar twisted its way across his plate and ploughed a furrow through the soft hide on top of it.

His mandibles flickered. "Every time I saw my own body in the mirror I thought of you…"

"Garrus, I stabbed you with a combat knife."

He nodded.

"That's really kind of a psychotic turn-on, don't you think?"

"I'm a Spectre," he whispered. "We're all crazy."

Shepard laughed. She couldn't help it. Garrus—her turian—joined in. She wrapped her arms around him, felt his close around her. Another thought struck her and she began to giggle. "I…I got your bed wet," she said, choking with laughter. "For someone who made such a fuss about keeping his sleeping bag dry…"

"My own fault for letting you in my shower," he growled. "But I can't blame you. I'm wet too."

"So, two of a kind then?" she said, her giggles fading.

"I hope so." His crystal eyes looked into hers and his face was suddenly serious. "Will you come with me?" he asked again.

"God, you'd think you were asking you to marry me."

"I will if we survive this mission." He blinked, retreated a little. "That is, if I can prove to you in the next few weeks that I can keep you happy."

"I know you can keep me happy." Shepard cuddled right up to him, pulling him close. "So you'd better do your best to survive the next few weeks, and so will I. Though…" She smiled wickedly. "If you'd like to prove yourself to me, by all means, go ahead."