Author's note:

This story is a companion to my other story, "Belonging." When I originally was posting "Belonging" on the Mass Effect kinkmeme, a couple of readers inquired what had happened between Shepard and Garrus (in particular, after Tali left the room in chapter 1). I responded with a hastily-written vignette. I ended up unsatisfied with the scene, and received some very helpful critique from Smehur on what wasn't working. So I started revising the scene, and somehow it got very... long, and kind of angsty in spots. It turned out, for me, that what was happening between the guys started out impulsive and got somewhat complicated. After all, relationships aren't always easy, right?

So, at any rate, here's the companion story to "Belonging." I expect to update at least once a week, perhaps more often. Rated M for language and sexual content; features a same-sex, eventually poly relationship.

Over the years, Shepard had woken up in a lot of ways, next to a lot of different people. On this day, as he slowly came to consciousness, he became aware of two things. First: he'd clearly had too much to drink the night before. Second: he was currently nestled next to somebody's very warm body. He cracked one eye open.

Huh. Next to Garrus's very warm body. That was unexpected. He searched his memory. There was something about hands running over his bare back - well, that was clearly a dream. Right, they'd been on Illium, and he and Jacob had helped Miranda get her sister safely stowed away. And then he'd met up with Garrus and Tali at Eternity, and - where was Tali, anyway? He propped himself up on his elbows so he could look around. The motion made his head swim. Well. Wherever Tali was, she wasn't here. His memories seemed to blur partway through the evening. Obviously they'd made their way back to the Normandy, but everything after that was gone. Probably they'd just staggered up here and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Shepard flopped back onto the bed and regarded Garrus. Deeply asleep, he looked far more relaxed than Shepard had seen him - well, ever, probably - and with the injured side of his face buried in the pillows, he looked more like Shepard remembered him. Not just less tense, but less... worn down. And it turned out that visor wasn't surgically attached after all, because he sure wasn't wearing it now. His mandible twitched a little as he slept, and he was... snoring? or purring? Whatever you called it, he was making a quiet rumbling noise in his chest. It was… disarming, soothing in the quiet room. Shepard smiled.

It had been good to see Garrus kick back a little; although he'd barely missed a beat after major surgery, he'd been a little grim since then, all coiled intensity. Not that Shepard blamed him, after the mess on Omega, but it was good to see signs of a lighter mood, some returning humor. Shepard thought he had Tali to thank for that. It was good to have her back.

It was strange, too, to see Garrus out of armor. Shepard had spotted the familiar battered blue pieces in a pile on the other side of the room. You didn't realize how much bulk turian armor added, especially to the upper body, until you saw one without: the collar ridge smaller, the neck more exposed, the shoulders less heavy. Out of armor, the ridges and angles of turian physiology were more obvious, but so was the element of vulnerability: it came home that those plates were not real armor after all, that they flexed and shifted with breath and movement, that softer hide surrounded the harder edges.

Shepard had seen a fully naked turian in the flesh just once. A woman, slim and elegant like a blade, and a hell of a dancer. He'd had an adventurous enough youth, but hadn't really considered turians as sexually attractive, until he'd seen her. From his vantage at the bar, his jaw had dropped at the things she could do with her hips and slender limbs, and when the music stopped, he'd made an overture. Which was accepted, fortunately for him. It had been a memorable and very pleasant night, and the novelty of exploring what a turian body really looked like, and felt like, had been part of the considerable pleasure. He'd gotten the assignment to the Normandy not long after that, and since then there hadn't been much opportunity for even casual liaisons. The experience had opened his eyes, though, and he hadn't been able to stop himself from looking appraisingly at the turians he'd encountered. Nihlus Kryik, for one, had been very striking, and Garrus...

Garrus sighed and shifted in his sleep, bringing Shepard's attention back to the present, a little flushed from the memory. He still looked very peaceful. He was taller and broader than that woman had been, more muscular. Shepard's palms itched with a sudden desire to touch, to run his hand from shoulder to waist to angular hip, exploring his texture. Totally inappropriate between friends, and he knew enough to realize it would be a truly shameless come-on for a turian. Not helpful, he informed his body. Couldn't you just stick with the headache? He couldn't quite resist the urge completely, but settled for a light pat on Garrus's shoulder before rolling himself out of bed.

All right, he told himself, agenda for the day: hangover remedy, shower to fix the other problem, try to conduct himself the rest of the day like a responsible grown-up who hadn't been out drinking with friends half the night.

As it turned out, he was still mixing up the hangover remedy when Garrus stirred.

Garrus muddled his way through a tangle of undeniably erotic dreams. He could not make out the other's face, but the hands were very busy, very welcome, finding all his most sensitive places. It had been a long time, he thought, and that broke the spell, the dream shattering around him as he woke in an unfamiliar bed. With an ache in his groin, a splitting headache, and a weird taste in his mouth. He groaned and rolled over, trying to identify his location.

"Hey," called a familiar voice from across the room. Shepard. "Morning, sunshine. I just got up myself. You want some of what I'm having?"

Garrus sat up. Shepard was mixing up some sort of odd-colored concoction. "What is that?"

"Hangover remedy. Doctor Shepard's best. I haven't had to use this in a while."

Garrus regarded it suspiciously. "And that's dextro-safe?"

Shepard looked at the glass for a moment. "I don't think there's any protein in there."

Considering the state of his head, Garrus decided it was worth the risk. "Sure, I'll have some."

Shepard brought him a glass and sipped his own with a grimace. Garrus sniffed the beverage, and took a drink. "It tastes awful."

"All the best hangover cures do," said Shepard, settling himself on the bed.

They sat on the bed in companionable silence, sipping their drinks. Shepard had folded his legs under him in a way that made Garrus's knees twinge just to look at. The human was only wearing some short trousers, leaving his torso and most of his legs bare. He had hair, here and there, thickest on his chest, thinner on his limbs. All the exposed skin was a little distracting. Garrus wondered idly what it felt like. He'd touched Shepard before, of course, but usually through clothing or armor, always in the course of doing something else. He wasn't sure he'd seen Shepard this undressed before, and the thought made him feel a little warm. It looked as though it ought to be cold, but Shepard didn't seem disturbed. Trying to focus on something else, he said, "Wasn't Tali with us when we came up here?"

"Was she? I thought she ought to be here. She wasn't here when I woke up, though, just us. You make a pretty good bedwarmer, I have to say."

Garrus blinked as his translator suggested two possibilities, one of them fairly lewd, and decided Shepard must have meant the innocuous one. "Uh… thanks? I suppose I do have a higher body temperature." The hangover remedy seemed to be working, at least.

Shepard smiled. "That must be it. Did you sleep all right?"

"Reasonably well." He scratched absently at the bandage, before reminding himself that he wasn't supposed to. "You?"

Shepard shrugged. "Better than usual. Wouldn't want to get plastered every night to achieve that, though. No bad dreams, at least. I hope yours were pleasant."

Garrus shifted uncomfortably. Remembering the dream-growing hazy now-made his nerves thrum. "Yeah, very pleasant," he admitted, realizing too late that his voice had dropped an octave, and that was a signal even humans could pick up on.

"Oh, that kind of dream?" Shepard's smile seemed off somehow, a little... twisted, or hesitant somehow. He paused before continuing. "Me too, funnily enough."

His eyes traveling down, Garrus noticed the highly visible bulge tenting Shepard's shorts. Mandibles flaring in embarrassment, he stood up hastily. "I'm sorry, Shepard, I didn't realize… I can go…"

"Sorry for what?" Shepard blurted. "That I find you attractive? You haven't done anything to apologize for."

Garrus blinked. "You—what?"

Shepard opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "What, are you saying you aren't a particularly good-looking turian specimen? You could have fooled me."

"Well, I—" used to be, his brain supplied, and the healing wounds on his right side chose that moment to throb, as if he were going to forget. "—didn't realize you were interested in turians," he said instead.

"I'm interested in a lot of things. " Shepard sighed. "Look, Garrus, I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, and you can certainly leave if you want to. But you don't have to. Apparently I just woke up horny today. It'll pass."

Slowly Garrus sat down again. "Are you—" he broke off, unsure of the proper protocol here.

"Am I what?"

Garrus sighed. "I don't know how humans do… this sort of thing. Are you—were you—saying you're interested in me? Personally?"

Both of Shepard's eyebrows shot up. "What would you say if I were?" For once, his voice was carefully neutral.

They looked at each other. Shepard's eyes were a little wide, and fixed on his. Garrus realized that he was trembling, just slightly. He should be making a polite refusal and heading out the door. If someone had proposed this scenario to him two years ago, he would have been appalled. A day ago, he would have laughed. So why wasn't he laughing, or running, now? "This is probably a bad idea," he said.

"It probably is," Shepard agreed. "The Alliance has a strict policy against fraternization between commander and subordinate."

Garrus remembered Joker mentioning such regs, while teasing Williams. "We're not Alliance any more," he said.

"No. We're not. And..." Shepard stopped, and shook his head.

"And what?"

"I'd like to think we're friends, at least," said Shepard. "Not just commander and subordinate. There aren't a lot of people in the galaxy I really trust, Garrus."

He'd known that was true, surely, but he felt oddly honored nonetheless. "I think you're about the best friend I've got, Shepard. You and maybe Tali," he added.

"Right," said Shepard, and hesitated. In the silence, Garrus felt a tension running between them. Shepard seemed to feel something, too, shifting awkwardly in place, and when his knee accidentally brushed against Garrus's hip, they both jumped as if they'd been shocked. Shepard cleared his throat. "Look, Garrus. I don't want to put any pressure on you at all. I'm interested, yeah, but I want us to stay friends, most of all. So if you're not, you can walk out right now, we're still friends, I won't be offended at all, and I won't bring it up again."

Garrus's heart pounded, feeling almost painfully loud. Shepard left it to him, his choice; Shepard wanted him, for some reason, and he wanted... it had never even occurred to him to want... he was right the first time, there were about a dozen reasons this was a bad idea, but... He gave up thinking, and acted on impulse: reached out, put one hand on Shepard's bare chest, slid it downwards, testing out the feel of that skin (smooth, pliant, with the firmness of muscle beneath, and the slight texture of hair...)