[FIC] Mass Effect 3 - Of Tattoos and Scars
Title: Of Tattoos of Scars
Pairing: Fem!Shep/James Vega
Word Count: 1690
I'm pretty miffed at Bioware that Vega wasn't romanceable, to the point where I had to write fic. I haven't written fic for anything since the 7th grade, let alone for a pairing. Besides, how could they not? They played on everything I <3. Damn that little brother shirt. I actually don't get the hate he has. Anyway, I typed this on the top of my head in a two-day span. I'm proud of this. I DON'T EVEN CARE.
"Commander?"
Alexa Shepard swiveled her chair at the door hissing open. "James! she exclaimed, motioning him to sit by her on the couch. Several bottles of alcohol were strewn about on the table, brands of which the lieutenant wasn't familiar with simply because he never seen before.
James Vega raised an eyebrow. Shepard had called him earlier on the intercom for a friendly little talk, as she put it. But this? This was a new thing to him. Commander Shepard, Hero of the Alliance...
"Well just don't stand there," she slurred, pouring two glasses of the blue stuff.
...drunk. Possibly drunk, but from the way her face was flushed and the way her lips were curled up in a sleepy grin -- and he definitely saw his fair share of drunks -- she was most definitely. He wondered how often this happened, and he wanted to ask the others of this, but it was a small thing to wonder about compared to say, how to defeat the Reapers.
Vega plopped down on the couch across from Shepard and cradled the glass thoughtfully before knocking it back. It was sweet going down, reminding him of apples. "This is good," he said after a while.
"Garrus got it for me while we were on Omega for a bit. Turian ale, costs a shit load," she said with a sigh as she shifted. "Well, as soon as he was well enough anyway. He took a nasty hit to the face." Shepard paused, and leaned over the table. "How did you get those scars?"
Vega blinked. He didn't realize that there was a slight red tinge to her green eyes, or some of the faint scars around them. "Fights. Lot's of them," he said with another sip, matter of factly.
Shepard knitted her brows together in disappointment as she sat back. "I've been in a lot of fights, James. Krogans, asari, batarians -- those batarians are real bastards in hand to hand. Pretty much every alien and creature. Except the hanar. Ech."
Vega smirked at the memories. "Grenade shrapnel and a few knife fights. Nothing like you, Lola."
"I wish mine were as normal as yours." Shepard poured another glass. "A lady should not have the amount I have. Physical or otherwise. But then again, I had nowhere to go when I lived on Earth."
"No family?"
"No. Parents died when I was real young. I've been in seven foster homes, but I just ran with the Reds mostly. No other relatives came to find me; probably didn't know I even existed." Alexa bit her lip in thought as she looked at Vega, his face rather curious. "So, I decided to make a name for myself by joining the Alliance. Get off that rock for a while."
Vega laughed. "And look at you now."
"What about you, James? Any family? I know you have someone worrying about you, right?"
His laughter died, and he took another sip of the ale. "Just my mom," he answered quietly. "My old man? I don't know if I should call him family."
"That's it? No girl?"
"Honestly, Commander, with a face like mine?" Vega scoffed before finishing off the drink. "From what I see, women are much interested in the waifish types of my gender. I'm too..."
"Muscular?"
"That and scary looking," he added. "They don't give me the time of day. No body does. Anyway, I got these scars from a grenade damn near blowing up in my face back in basic. Some idiot primed it thinking that it was a sim before teach realized it. I would say had he'd been a second late, I would've been good as dead."
"You didn't wear helmets?" She asked. "That's a violation in itself!"
"Eh, shit happens," he said with a shrug. His face felt warm from the alcohol and his head swam a little. Vega grinned. "And I got into a fight with some batarians back on Omega. They were talking shit about you." He sat forward and poured another drink. Shepard noticed that his almond brown eyes went hard and his scars twisted as he grimaced.
"They were talking shit about you, and what they'd do to you if they ever caught you for what you did."
"And then?" Shepard asked, as Vega rose from his seat. He took on a fighting stance, broad shoulders hunched over while bringing up his fists to his face. For good measure, he jabbed the air three times in quick succession.
"Of course, I fought them. One bastard got me good with the knife," he said, pointing to the long scar across his face. "I hit him with one the screens. Didn't get up after that."
"The screen?" Shepard laughed. "Good grief man!"
"Hey, it was the first thing I could find. I would've gotten them all, had Anderson not stepped in. Then again," Vega added with a thoughtful look, "I probably would've been stabbed in the chest."
"The chances of that batarian bastard of hitting you is..." Shepard faded and looked him up and down. "Well, it's a pretty big target if I say so myself."
Vega crossed his arms over his chest. "What of you, Lola?"
"Normandy was ambushed by a Collector ship. I... well, I was rebuilt by Cerebus," she replied, downing her drink after. She exhaled sharply. "Dr. Chakwas was able to heal up the majority of them, but you can still see them."
Vega wanted to asked about the whole ordeal with Cerebus, but it was decided that he'll do it at a better time than this. Besides, the turian ale was delicious and he wanted more of it. "You're right, it's not a good look for a lady like you," he said. "I'm sure you have tattoos?"
Shepard eyed him again. It was the first time that she noticed how ridiculously tight his shirt was, hell, it looked like it was painted on. Or how muscular. More so than Alenko. Her cheeks turned red at some rather impure thoughts, but she let out a drunken laugh. "Of course not. I hate needles. You don't look scared of 'em, James."
Vega nodded, and drank the whole glass in one shot. He let out a satisfying belch and excused himself as Shepard laughed. "Okay, okay," he said, gathering himself. "Better yet, schooch over, I want you to have a better look."
He rolled up his sleeve as he sat to the left of Shepard, who watched with great interest. The way the massive tattoo wrapped around his bicep reminded Shepard of the Mako's tracks on fresh clay. Without even realizing it, her hands were tracing them up to his neck. "Damn, how many credits did this set you back?" she asked.
"About twelve hundred," he said. "And that was with a discount."
"Why?"
Vega paused. It had been so long ago, and the ale was starting to get to him. Instead, he concentrated on how cold her hands were. "They're marks. People who were killed because of me, because of the Collectors." He sniffed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"James," Shepard said. "You did what you had to do. You did what you could do. Do you know about Torfan?"
"Of course I do, ma'am. Everyone does."
"I've relived it in my dreams sometimes," she said, taking a sip. The ale tasted bitter now. "But I honestly did have no choice. We're expendable, but if it's to protect what's ours, then it doesn't matter. You stopped the Collectors before they could do any more damage to the colonies."
"It didn't matter in the end, Shepard," he hissed, getting up. He took up his shirt, revealing more scars and the continuation of the tattoo, and now it reminded the Spectre of armor weave. She also spotted an alarmingly large scar plastered over where his heart was.
"My men died for nothing!" Vega said, pointing at the scar with his thumb. "I should have..." He looked away, suddenly aware of Shepard was staring at him in a knowing way.
"James," she said. Again, the lieutenant felt the cold touch racing up his arm and the back of his neck as she hugged him. She was only a few inches shorter than him, but unbelievably small in his arms as he wrapped his arms around her.
"They did not die for nothing, James," she whispered. "Their sacrifice has not been in vain; you survived. And you're here, with me, with us. Your love of life... you do what it takes to protect anyone at all costs. That's all I need from you."
Shepard was surprised how warm the man was. There was something about a human embrace that she couldn't quite place. She was far too concerned, at times, protecting others, but she had very little in the way of reciprocation.
She broke the embrace and uncorked another bottle with a wry smile as she poured the liquid into the glasses. "Now, to toast our fallen comrades. May they watch over us as we destroy those who threaten peace."
Vega grinned and bumped Shepard's glass. "Amen to that, Lola."
* * *
James Vega woke up on the couch, and groaned. His head was pounding like he had been hit by a concussive shot. Thankfully, the lights were still low, and he gazed around. At least three more bottles of ale were on the table and one glass was knocked over. His shirt was flung on the other couch as well as his pants, as well as some of Shepard's clothing too.
She was huddled against him, snoring softly, but her brows were knitted together. She muttered, "Don't go in there." Her eyes shot open when Vega squeezed her shoulder, and stared for only a scant second of recognition before falling back asleep. He noticed the numerous scars on her lithe body, tiny but large in numbers. She was right.
James Vega decided that she would not get another scar, not if he could help it. He wrapped an arm around her and she immediately relaxed, sighing contentedly. He kissed her on the cheek, and fell back into a dreamless sleep not long after.
Pairing: Fem!Shep/James Vega
Word Count: 1690
I'm pretty miffed at Bioware that Vega wasn't romanceable, to the point where I had to write fic. I haven't written fic for anything since the 7th grade, let alone for a pairing. Besides, how could they not? They played on everything I <3. Damn that little brother shirt. I actually don't get the hate he has. Anyway, I typed this on the top of my head in a two-day span. I'm proud of this. I DON'T EVEN CARE.
"Commander?"
Alexa Shepard swiveled her chair at the door hissing open. "James! she exclaimed, motioning him to sit by her on the couch. Several bottles of alcohol were strewn about on the table, brands of which the lieutenant wasn't familiar with simply because he never seen before.
James Vega raised an eyebrow. Shepard had called him earlier on the intercom for a friendly little talk, as she put it. But this? This was a new thing to him. Commander Shepard, Hero of the Alliance...
"Well just don't stand there," she slurred, pouring two glasses of the blue stuff.
...drunk. Possibly drunk, but from the way her face was flushed and the way her lips were curled up in a sleepy grin -- and he definitely saw his fair share of drunks -- she was most definitely. He wondered how often this happened, and he wanted to ask the others of this, but it was a small thing to wonder about compared to say, how to defeat the Reapers.
Vega plopped down on the couch across from Shepard and cradled the glass thoughtfully before knocking it back. It was sweet going down, reminding him of apples. "This is good," he said after a while.
"Garrus got it for me while we were on Omega for a bit. Turian ale, costs a shit load," she said with a sigh as she shifted. "Well, as soon as he was well enough anyway. He took a nasty hit to the face." Shepard paused, and leaned over the table. "How did you get those scars?"
Vega blinked. He didn't realize that there was a slight red tinge to her green eyes, or some of the faint scars around them. "Fights. Lot's of them," he said with another sip, matter of factly.
Shepard knitted her brows together in disappointment as she sat back. "I've been in a lot of fights, James. Krogans, asari, batarians -- those batarians are real bastards in hand to hand. Pretty much every alien and creature. Except the hanar. Ech."
Vega smirked at the memories. "Grenade shrapnel and a few knife fights. Nothing like you, Lola."
"I wish mine were as normal as yours." Shepard poured another glass. "A lady should not have the amount I have. Physical or otherwise. But then again, I had nowhere to go when I lived on Earth."
"No family?"
"No. Parents died when I was real young. I've been in seven foster homes, but I just ran with the Reds mostly. No other relatives came to find me; probably didn't know I even existed." Alexa bit her lip in thought as she looked at Vega, his face rather curious. "So, I decided to make a name for myself by joining the Alliance. Get off that rock for a while."
Vega laughed. "And look at you now."
"What about you, James? Any family? I know you have someone worrying about you, right?"
His laughter died, and he took another sip of the ale. "Just my mom," he answered quietly. "My old man? I don't know if I should call him family."
"That's it? No girl?"
"Honestly, Commander, with a face like mine?" Vega scoffed before finishing off the drink. "From what I see, women are much interested in the waifish types of my gender. I'm too..."
"Muscular?"
"That and scary looking," he added. "They don't give me the time of day. No body does. Anyway, I got these scars from a grenade damn near blowing up in my face back in basic. Some idiot primed it thinking that it was a sim before teach realized it. I would say had he'd been a second late, I would've been good as dead."
"You didn't wear helmets?" She asked. "That's a violation in itself!"
"Eh, shit happens," he said with a shrug. His face felt warm from the alcohol and his head swam a little. Vega grinned. "And I got into a fight with some batarians back on Omega. They were talking shit about you." He sat forward and poured another drink. Shepard noticed that his almond brown eyes went hard and his scars twisted as he grimaced.
"They were talking shit about you, and what they'd do to you if they ever caught you for what you did."
"And then?" Shepard asked, as Vega rose from his seat. He took on a fighting stance, broad shoulders hunched over while bringing up his fists to his face. For good measure, he jabbed the air three times in quick succession.
"Of course, I fought them. One bastard got me good with the knife," he said, pointing to the long scar across his face. "I hit him with one the screens. Didn't get up after that."
"The screen?" Shepard laughed. "Good grief man!"
"Hey, it was the first thing I could find. I would've gotten them all, had Anderson not stepped in. Then again," Vega added with a thoughtful look, "I probably would've been stabbed in the chest."
"The chances of that batarian bastard of hitting you is..." Shepard faded and looked him up and down. "Well, it's a pretty big target if I say so myself."
Vega crossed his arms over his chest. "What of you, Lola?"
"Normandy was ambushed by a Collector ship. I... well, I was rebuilt by Cerebus," she replied, downing her drink after. She exhaled sharply. "Dr. Chakwas was able to heal up the majority of them, but you can still see them."
Vega wanted to asked about the whole ordeal with Cerebus, but it was decided that he'll do it at a better time than this. Besides, the turian ale was delicious and he wanted more of it. "You're right, it's not a good look for a lady like you," he said. "I'm sure you have tattoos?"
Shepard eyed him again. It was the first time that she noticed how ridiculously tight his shirt was, hell, it looked like it was painted on. Or how muscular. More so than Alenko. Her cheeks turned red at some rather impure thoughts, but she let out a drunken laugh. "Of course not. I hate needles. You don't look scared of 'em, James."
Vega nodded, and drank the whole glass in one shot. He let out a satisfying belch and excused himself as Shepard laughed. "Okay, okay," he said, gathering himself. "Better yet, schooch over, I want you to have a better look."
He rolled up his sleeve as he sat to the left of Shepard, who watched with great interest. The way the massive tattoo wrapped around his bicep reminded Shepard of the Mako's tracks on fresh clay. Without even realizing it, her hands were tracing them up to his neck. "Damn, how many credits did this set you back?" she asked.
"About twelve hundred," he said. "And that was with a discount."
"Why?"
Vega paused. It had been so long ago, and the ale was starting to get to him. Instead, he concentrated on how cold her hands were. "They're marks. People who were killed because of me, because of the Collectors." He sniffed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"James," Shepard said. "You did what you had to do. You did what you could do. Do you know about Torfan?"
"Of course I do, ma'am. Everyone does."
"I've relived it in my dreams sometimes," she said, taking a sip. The ale tasted bitter now. "But I honestly did have no choice. We're expendable, but if it's to protect what's ours, then it doesn't matter. You stopped the Collectors before they could do any more damage to the colonies."
"It didn't matter in the end, Shepard," he hissed, getting up. He took up his shirt, revealing more scars and the continuation of the tattoo, and now it reminded the Spectre of armor weave. She also spotted an alarmingly large scar plastered over where his heart was.
"My men died for nothing!" Vega said, pointing at the scar with his thumb. "I should have..." He looked away, suddenly aware of Shepard was staring at him in a knowing way.
"James," she said. Again, the lieutenant felt the cold touch racing up his arm and the back of his neck as she hugged him. She was only a few inches shorter than him, but unbelievably small in his arms as he wrapped his arms around her.
"They did not die for nothing, James," she whispered. "Their sacrifice has not been in vain; you survived. And you're here, with me, with us. Your love of life... you do what it takes to protect anyone at all costs. That's all I need from you."
Shepard was surprised how warm the man was. There was something about a human embrace that she couldn't quite place. She was far too concerned, at times, protecting others, but she had very little in the way of reciprocation.
She broke the embrace and uncorked another bottle with a wry smile as she poured the liquid into the glasses. "Now, to toast our fallen comrades. May they watch over us as we destroy those who threaten peace."
Vega grinned and bumped Shepard's glass. "Amen to that, Lola."
* * *
James Vega woke up on the couch, and groaned. His head was pounding like he had been hit by a concussive shot. Thankfully, the lights were still low, and he gazed around. At least three more bottles of ale were on the table and one glass was knocked over. His shirt was flung on the other couch as well as his pants, as well as some of Shepard's clothing too.
She was huddled against him, snoring softly, but her brows were knitted together. She muttered, "Don't go in there." Her eyes shot open when Vega squeezed her shoulder, and stared for only a scant second of recognition before falling back asleep. He noticed the numerous scars on her lithe body, tiny but large in numbers. She was right.
James Vega decided that she would not get another scar, not if he could help it. He wrapped an arm around her and she immediately relaxed, sighing contentedly. He kissed her on the cheek, and fell back into a dreamless sleep not long after.