A/N: This was originally supposed to be a brief one-shot, but it quick turned into something else. You can call it cracky if you like, I just call it...interesting.

"Move your ass, Krios," Haron shouted as he leaned against the doorjamb. Babysitting unruly drell wasn't exactly his idea of a good time, but an order was an order.

He and the kid were the last ones left in the locker room at the end of the shift, and Haron was ready to get off the clock. He was never in a rush to go home, so he took his time changing from his C-Sec blues into his civilian attire. But even with that extra time, Krios still wasn't ready.

Haron knew drell attire was far from simple with all of those zippers and belts, but taking fifteen minutes to change was really pushing it. They went through this every time it was his turn to supervise Kolyat's community service. The kid was always obstinate and slow moving when it came to following his orders.

The other officers in his rotation said that Krios had never given them any trouble. He, allegedly, did what he was told without issue and rarely talked back. That was nothing like the Kolyat Haron was familiar with, so that meant the trouble must lie with Haron.

Everything that came out of the kid's mouth was snide and rude and he frequently rolled his eyes after Haron addressed him. Haron had no idea what grudge Kolyat could have against him, but he wasn't sure he cared enough to find out. He only saw him a few times a week, at most. He could deal with it; he'd dealt with worse.

"If you don't hurry up, I'm going to lock you in here," Haron bellowed as he checked his chrono. At that moment, Kolyat burst from a row of lockers and bounded up the aisle towards the door. Haron chuckled to himself.

He'd locked the drell in the locker room—completely by accident-once before, leaving him trapped until the next shift began. It had only been for 15-20 minutes, but Haron had heard Krios was positively livid. He'd taken an ugly pleasure in that fact. It served the obnoxious little snot right.

Kolyat scowled as he walked pass Haron, muttering "bastard" under his breath. That little outburst aside, they made it to the squad room in silence, just the way Haron liked it.

"Alright, you're free to go for the weekend," Haron said when they reached the front doors. "Just make sure you're in your room by curfew, and keep your nose clean for the next few days."

"Yeah, whatever," Kolyat grumbled as he stalked off.

Now he was someone else's problem.

Unwilling to go home to his empty apartment, Haron dropped in at his local watering hole. The bartender nodded to him as he headed to his usual seat in the back, well away from the small, early evening crowd. It wasn't long before the human waitress came over with his drink. She smiled as she set his glass on the table, and he caught himself smiling back, mandibles spread wide in a goofy grin.

She was pretty, in the way that only humans and asari could be, and he found himself distracted by her lips when she spoke. Haron had never really paid much notice of humans before, and he couldn't say he was really interested now, but to have someone pay attention to him was nice. It wasn't such a far jump from asari to humans, but he wasn't so sure he was ready to cross that line just yet.

It had been months since Shatira had gone from his life as chaotically as she'd come into it, and he'd done nothing to fill the hole she'd left. He had other things to worry about and more pressing priorities, like every good turian should.

Nursing his beer, Haron recalled the events of the day, double-checking to see if he'd forgotten to file a form, or stow his weapon. Eventually his thoughts strayed to the sour young man who had been in his charge for the day.

Kolyat Krios had started off as just another hard luck case that fed the precinct rumor mill, but since he'd dealt with him first hand, he found himself becoming emotionally invested. Krios wasn't a bad kid, and that he even bothered to show up for his service said a lot. Maybe it would be worth it for Haron not to bust his chops quite so much.

The night wore on; people came, and people left, none staying longer than it took them to get buzzed or make asses of themselves. Neither took very long. By the time Lilah-that was her name; Lily for short- brought Haron his fourth drink, the bar was as crowded as he'd ever seen it. More bodies in such a tight space meant more chances for someone's foot to get stepped on or for the guy who'd had too many to think someone at the end of the bar had looked at him the wrong way and Haron wanted no part of it. He was off duty and he'd rather not get a bloody nose from breaking up a bar fight.

After putting down a credit chit that covered his tab with enough left over to leave Lilah a generous tip, he shouldered his way towards the exit. He'd almost reached the door when a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

"I don't give a fuck who you are, who your grandfather was, what war he fought in, or any of that pompous shit. This is your fault; you should have just gotten out of my seat."

-~xXx~-

For the fourth time this month, Kolyat found himself in the bottom of a glass. He didn't usually drink, and he wasn't sure why he drank at all; it ate into what little money he got from C-Sec as a stipend, and he always felt like shit afterwards, but it was a toss-up between which made him feel worse: the drinking or his community service.

The whole thing was a joke.

They told him he was "repaying a debt to society." If they'd let him take out Joram Talid, he really would have helped out society. The man was a bigot who looked down on anyone who wasn't like him; rich and turian, despite his campaign slogan of compassion toward all non-humans.

His father had told him that sparing Talid, no matter how despicable a person he was, had been the right thing to do. Then why did he regret it so much? If he had been quicker, if he hadn't chickened out, Talid would be dead, and he might have gotten out of there before his father and Commander Shepard had found him... But then where would he be?

It couldn't have been worse than where he was now. The Spiral Arms was a rundown dump of a place, and the people who inhabited it weren't much better. The very dregs of society and Kolyat was mixed in right along with them. He didn't see much difference between this and prison.

Kolyat didn't really want to be in this bar, or even on the Citadel, but there was no way for him to get what he wanted. His mother had passed on, and his father would soon be following behind her, thanks to Kepral's or the ridiculous mission he was on. Kolyat wasn't sure how much of what his father told him he believed, but if Commander Shepard-the Commander Shepard-was involved, maybe his story was true.

Halfway through his sixth drink, Kolyat had to go to the bathroom. He left his jacket on the back of his chair, in front of his unfinished drink, a clear indicator that the seat was taken. He even gave the bartender a look, to ask him to watch his stool, but when he returned to his seat, he still found some smug asshole sitting in it, wrinkling up his jacket. The jerk was trying to chat up the asari sitting beside him, like that was so very hard.

Through a liquor-induced haze, Kolyat forced a calming breath through his nose.

"You're in my seat."

"Just give me a minute, junior. I'm busy here." The turian waved him off, not bothering to look at him.

Kolyat's nails bit into his palms as he struggled against the urge to knock this guy off the stool. It was just a seat. Some guy snaking it to talk to some chick was annoying, but it wasn't worth starting a fight over.

With a sigh, Kolyat tugged his jacket from underneath the turian without much of a hassle. It was when he tried to reach around the turian and grab his drink, then he had a problem.

"What do you think you're doing," the turian shouted as he hit Kolyat's arm, knocking the drink from his hand. Liquid splashed all over the bar, the asari, and Kolyat. Some dribbled off the counter and into the asshole's lap. "Look what you've done!" The turian almost shrieked as he tried to wipe the brightly colored liquid from his light-colored pants that were no doubt ruined, much to Kolyat's satisfaction. "Do you know how much this suit cost?"

"That's a shame," Kolyat said as he let his empty cup clatter back onto the countertop. It was hard to be too broken up about another man's pants when his drink was all over several people, including himself.

"It's more than 'a shame,'" the turian growled. "Do you know who I am?"

"Can't say that I do. Or that I care." Kolyat knew that he should back down, and leave, but at this point, he was tired of suffering assholes. He was tired of people looking down on him, the people in charge of the halfway house, the others who stayed there, even some of the C-Sec officers. And now this jerk off was just throwing more fuel on the fire. Sooner or later, he would need to vent. Now seemed as good a time as any

"I don't give a fuck who you are, who your grandfather was, what war he fought in, or any of that pompous elcor shit. This is your fault; you should have just gotten out of my seat."

The turian's mandibles flared wide, baring sharp teeth, and he growled, a primal, visceral sound. He looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel.

The turian cocked his arm back, and Kolyat braced himself for the blow, his body too sluggish and weighed down with drink to fight back. When he'd expected it to hit, he felt his body lurch back, as something pulled hard on the collar of his jacket. Before he knew it, he had been dragged through the bar and dropped on his ass in the middle of the pedway outside the bar.

"You must be some kind of dumb." Sergeant Haron glowered down at him.

"What's your problem?" Kolyat snapped, struggling to get to his feet. He'd be damned if he gave someone else the chance to look down on him today, literally or figuratively.

"You aren't supposed to be in bars, for one. And I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be getting into fights in your situation. You must really be stupid."

"Fuck off." Kolyat staggered to his feet, a hand pressed against the wall for balance.

"Right, because insulting me is going to help you right now."

"Fuck off," Kolyat said again as he leaned into the wall. "Like you really want to help me. Who are you, my dad?" Haron said nothing as Kolyat started to walk away, leaning heavily the wall. "I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help." Kolyat managed to get to his feet alright. He was well on his way home until the wall sharply turned into a corner. He stumbled at its sudden disappearance and fell to his knees. He didn't really know where he was going; it was passed curfew, and the doors of the Spiral Arms were long closed. Even if they weren't, there was no way they would let him in drunk, and there was no guarantee he'd made it there at all. He couldn't even see straight.

He leaned his head back on the wall, and closed his eyes. He just wanted to sleep, and maybe find out this was all some bad dream. Something obscured the light from the neon sign overhead. "Go away," he groaned, curling up into a ball in the middle of the pedway. His stomach was starting to hurt. He knew he should have started drinking on an empty stomach.

"You can't sleep here," the turian above him huffed.

"What are you going to do? Arrest me?" He chuckled, long past caring. At least a cell would be a place to stay. He didn't fight as he was hauled to his feet, fatigue numbing his senses.

"That's right." Haron leaned his shoulder into Kolyat's gut, and lifted him off the ground, hefting the weight onto his back.

"They don't pay me enough for this," Haron grumbled to himself and stalked off.