KinkMeme prompt was about Shepard's LI having a thing for Shepard in uniform. I really love writing Jack. This could serve as a prequel of sorts to 'Keeping Secrets' (my other MShep/Jack story), I guess. Reviews are my addiction of choice, please help out.

"Fuck Shepard, are you really going to go?" Jack lay back on the bed in his cabin, arms behind her head, watching him. He'd just stepped out of the shower when she'd come up, and she'd almost been tempted to talk him into another one…together. She opted to lie on his bed and watch him dress.

"Well, the Normandy is about an hour or two from the jump that's going to take us to Earth. So yeah, I think I am going to go." He was rifling through his wardrobe, taking out bits and pieces of his uniform. His polished black shoes came first, then a light blue undershirt. He bent over to look his drawers, and her eyes roved those muscular calves, drinking in their sight. He straightened and laid out a pair of navy blue pants.

"But those bastards might lock you up. I say screw it, this time we take the ship and actually go rogue. Fight the Reapers and shit. Everyone on the crew will go for it. Hell even the Cheerleader quit Cerberus."

"I promised Hackett I'd come when they called. They've called." His voice was firm. Unyielding. Shit, she knew he was principled and honourable. She still couldn't believe how much she liked him despite his boy-scout nature. Or was that because of it? Oh he wasn't stupid. He'd shoot anyone who shot at him, shoot them better, and shoot them dead. But he was always willing to give people chance. Like he'd given her. Always willing to try and do the right thing. Like when he'd convinced her on Pragia to let that little shit walk away. He'd been right. He usually was. Fucker.

He glanced back over his shoulder at her, like he'd sense what she was thinking. His russet red hair was still wet from the shower, and she resisted an urge to go run her fingers through it. Emerald green eyes reflected the smile dancing on his lips. Nice, strong lips, that felt ever-so-perfect when he was kissing her. Tracing out her ink. Especially the N7 one she'd got back on Illium after they got back from the Omega Relay. He really liked that one.

"What about you Jack? What do you want do?" He turned back to wardrobe, breaking their little eye-fucking session, and she tamped down the heat that was spreading through her body. Later.

"I don't know. Haven't really got anywhere to go. Probably still wanted through most of known space, but it would suck to have to go on the run again. KInda got used to my own cot…and people who have my back." The admission didn't come easily. That life had been the only life she'd known for a long time, and then he'd come along and swept her up in the Normandy. She'd resisted as long as she could, but he was a tornado, building his team, solving their problems, making them work together, leading them into battle. The improbable he could do right now, the impossible only took a little bit more planning. She'd been surprised to hear herself calling him "Commander" on the Collector Ship, an even more so when she realised she'd meant it. She'd come to terms with it now, at least that part of things. As to what happened on the night before they jumped through the Omega Relay, and since, she had less of a handle. Not that he needed to hear about that.

"I did what I could about your arrest warrants. A little bit of Spectre pressure, a few words from Hackett and Anderson. No guarantees about anywhere else, but in Alliance Space you're clean." He casually leaned out of the wardrobe with his navy blue dress jacket as he dropped that bomb on her, putting it next to the shirt, then flicked those green orbs to her.

"Holy fucking shit Shepard! Are you fucking with me?"

"Nope. Least I could do after you held that biotic barrier for us. This isn't even about us, not really. You're part of my crew. I did what I had to do. Took a lot less yelling than getting Tali cleared by the Admiralty Board."

She got on her knees as he was speaking, then went over to his side of the bed and dragged him into a kiss. Lips met, then tongues, as she ran her hands all over the inside of his robe. Thick muscle, flat and hard sent jolts of electricity from her fingertips to her stomach…and lower. She was just about undo the knot of his robe when he stepped back.

"Sorry. Got to dress. Look my best when I'm arrested and all that." His voice was choked with lust, but that damn iron discipline had clamped down again. She really had to get around to breaking him of that habit.

Jack reluctantly stepped back, and went back to reclining on the bed. Perfect timing, as he undid the robe, angled with his back to her. Her eyes took in this moment for posterity. She might never see him naked again. Those strong, tree-trunk thighs that rose into that absolutely splendid, firm ass. The washboard stomach, iron hard. Firm chest, broad shoulders. His arms were lean and strong, capable of lifting her without even an effort. Square jaw, sharp cheeks, a misshapen nose from where a krogan had headbutted him while he was putting a shotgun to its stomach. Green eyes that lit up whenever he saw her. Dark red hair cut regulation short. He'd put on his boxer-briefs already, and then turned to face her. She expressed her disappointment through her eyes and looked pointedly at his groin, at which he chuckled and flashed her briefly. Oh yes, absolutely nothing to be ashamed of in that department either. She'd seen krogan with smaller. Could he get any more fucking hot?

"So, you never said…any plans now you're not a fugitive anymore?" He slipped on his shirt first, light blue, creases knife thin and inch-perfect. Set those broad shoulders off perfectly.

"I had a thought. I don't know." Dark blue trousers came next, clinched firmly around that superb waist. He turned to put on his socks, and oh fuck…that ass. Her teeth bit into her lower-lip. Absolutely delicious even through the dark blue of his uniform. Especially through the dark blue of his uniform. She could feel herself getting turned on just watching him put his clothes. Put his clothes on. Even thinking that felt ridiculous. The nipples that had sprung up and that tight ache in her breasts didn't.

"What? Tell me." The shiny black leather belt was going around his waist now, and she could think of much, much better uses to put it to. Around his arms and tied to the bedpost. Or hers. Jack wasn't too greedy. Either would do.

"Well, maybe I could teach. Biotic kids. You know, so they don't fuck them up like me." He paused turned to look at her, shoes in hand, and this time his eyes were full of warmth. She drew it in, wrapped it around herself like a blanket. There were days now when the pain seemed to ebb away. The memories would never go, but sometimes it felt good because she could escape them and look forward, not back. He didn't tell her what to do or how to think, just lent her his support, like a great bulwark. She knew in turn that sometimes he drew up on her passion, her rage, her fierceness. An exchange she was even, just quietly sometimes in the night in the crook of his arm, she could admit she was happy with.

"I'll mention it to Anderson. He'll do what he can, I'm sure." He'd sat down on the edge of the bed, leaned forward. His shirt grew taut against those strapping shoulders and broad back, and Jack licked her lips almost unconsciously. She ran a finger along the inside of her thigh, feeling heat and moisture pool in the pit of her stomach and lower.

"Yeah, fuck it why not. Someone has to get people ready to take on the Reapers."

He stood again, turned to look at her with a smile on his face, then ran his fingers back through his cropped dark-red hair. She wondered if it would grow longer when he was in captivity. Maybe she could let hers grow out again. A new look. A new statement. A new fuck-you to the world. Not all of it this time, just the parts she was pissed off with.

"You'll be great, Jack. Whatever you choose to do." The jacket came last, fitting perfectly. Already heavy with medals and ribbons. Gold bands around the wrists. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a recruiting poster. She got up, and walked over to him, and he watched. Saw the lust in her eyes and his own mirrored them with heat.

"Now, really? I just got dressed."

"That was a fucking strip-show in reverse Shepard." She growled as she reached him, jerked him down by the coat, mouths crashing, lips finding each other. He moved to her neck, nibbling on it, just how it knew it made her hotter and wetter.

"Fucking military boys and their fucking uniforms." Shepard gasped as her hands went straight for his belt, and then into his pants. She found him…at attention. "Fucking know how it turns people on."

"People?" His hands brushed over one aching nipple, then the other, then his hands were on her waist as he brought her up. Her legs clamped around him, and as his mouth went to her breast she had no choice but to lean her head back and ride the arousal flooding through her.

"Me! Alright, me," Jack moaned as his hands squeezed her ass, before he was walking forward and leaned down and lay her on the bed. She took a deep breath.

"Commander. Lose the pants, keep the jacket and bring me that fucking belt. I hope you have spare uniform, because you'll need it about 15 minutes before we get to Earth when I let you leave this fucking bed again."

He laughed, and then did as she said. She knew he'd have prepared both his sets of formal uniforms last night. Fucking boy-scout. And then his mouth was on her again and she eagerly surrendered to doing, not thinking.