tersa
in
masseffect
Secret Santa for downy_fae!
Happy holidays for downy_fae! I got inspired by her prompt "James/Ashley. I am in LOVE with this pairing. I would love to see them kicking ass together, or James teasing Ashley and Ashley teasing him right back. If a fic, maybe holiday strip poker. Heh."
(And big thanks to skellington1 for the beta!)
Santa's Little Helper
Looking around at the paper decorations, the smiles on the crew’s faces, Steve had to admit that the idea for a winter holiday party aboard the Normandy was one of the better ones James Vega had had. Even though the galaxy was burning and the eggs in the eggnog were suspect. As was the milk. And maybe the nutmeg. Steve eyed the contents of his glass suspiciously. The thing passing as rum that he’d managed to scrounge up covered the worst of the ingredients’ faults.
He ought to thank him. Scanning the crowd again, he couldn’t see Vega anywhere, and he was a man hard to miss.
“Garrus, have you seen Lieutenant Vega?” Steve asked. He thought he’d enunciated okay, but he couldn’t tell from the amused way Garrus’s mandibles moved. Maybe the ‘rum’ was stronger than he’d suspected.
“We haven’t seen him for a while.” Tali answered playfully instead, long fingers cradling a glass of what Steve thought was turian brandy with...a straw in it. “Last time I noticed him, he was talking to Shepard.”
Finding Shepard in the crowd wasn’t difficult. Her red hair shone, reflecting the Christmas lights Joker had cajoled EDI into stringing around the mess. She was dancing with Traynor to some song he didn’t recognize, and he suffered a pang of regret for interrupting given the, er, looks on their faces.
“He tried to cut in,” Shepard said in amusement, stripping her hair back from her face with a thoughtless gesture. He felt warmth at how...happy she looked in that moment. “I think I saw him heading towards Javik.”
But when Steve went up to the Prothean, brooding along the wall, Javik said, “No,” before Steve even got a word out.
“I know where he is,” Liara’s voice said, and Steve turned to find the asari at his elbow. “He and Joker and Ashley are in the Lounge. Curious rituals you humans follow, would you have time to explain all this sometime?”
“I suppose so,” Steve agreed, feeling suddenly discomfited by the intensity of Liara’s gaze.
Getting to the lounge was only somewhat easier than tracking Vega down in the first place. The crush of the crew all crammed into the mess, minus a skeleton staff, made navigating the bodies difficult. Reaching the hallway, he breathed a deep breath, clinging to the illusion it was fresh air, then headed towards the informal lounge.
And stopped after he entered.
The three of them were wearing decidedly fewer clothes than he last remembered. Joker, with his back to him, was visibly wearing only one sock and his hat--Steve wondered what would go first, the sock or the hat. He’d never seen Joker without the hat. Ashley, sitting on the far side of the table from his spot, had fared a little better, in that he could see a brassiere at least. Although, come to think of it, he had no idea what she might or might not be wearing below the table. But Vega...to the left of Joker, Steve got a clear line of sight to see he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a red Santa hat.
Until he reached under the table and twisted, and the boxers were being deposited on a pile of other clothes in the center accompanied by his smug grin. “I raise you.”
“How did you...nevermind. You’re so full of shit, Vega,” Ashley said with a broad grin. Leaning over gave Steve a good view of her cleavage; it did nothing for him but Joker probably enjoyed it. Straightening, she dropped a cheerfully colored sock on top. “I call.”
“Oooookay,” Joker drawled out. “This is too rich for my blood. I’m out. I’m going to go find some more eggnog. Or maybe some apple juice. I think it might be safer.” He pushed himself out of his seat and grabbed for his clothes, not bothering to put them on as he stumped towards the door. Spying Steve, he said in undertone, “I’d get out while the getting is good, they’re both three sheets to the wind and making me uncomfortable with how much they’re leering.”
“How did he--”
“Don’t ask, man. Better not to ask,” he said, tugging on Steve’s elbow to follow.
Steve’s attention drifted back to the poker table just as Ashley stood up from her chair and, hips swaying, neared Vega. He was reaching for her waist when Steve averted his eyes, the image of the bobbing end of the Santa hat lingering and refusing to be banished. “Good plan. Let’s go find something stronger than the eggnog.”
BONUS DRABBLE:
As the original fill came a little under the requested minimum word count, I made up for it by writing a bit for another prompt, "Mac Shepard/Ashley is another one of my favorite pairings. This one could be during ME3 because Mac used the synthesis ending, or you could do Ashley reflecting sadly on their brief time together afterward. This would probably have a more melancholy theme than the other two, just because Mac was always the serious I'm-going-to-do-whatever-it-takes-to-save-this-damned-galaxy kind of a guy, even if it meant sacrificing himself. And he knew going into the final battle that he wouldn't make it out alive."
#####
There wasn’t a day that Ashley didn’t think of Mac: every morning when she woke up and saw the sheen of light coruscating over her skin or her green eyes in the bathroom mirror while brushing her teeth. Sometimes in a crowd she thought she’d hear his voice, just a fragment, but she’d turn to look and he wasn’t there.
No one knew what had become of him, just that he’d gone missing the same time the Great Change had happened. They’d searched the damaged Citadel for weeks, months and hadn’t found his body. Admiral Anderson they’d found near the Illusive Man, gunshot wounds in both of them...but no Shepard.
But Ashley knew, could feel it deep in her bones, that Mac had done this. That the synthetics that seethed through her and the truce declared with the modified Reapers was his doing. She missed him all over again, but it was different this time. The glow that caressed her reminded her of his touch, and she felt his warmth in the new thoughts.
A part of him would always be with her.
(And big thanks to skellington1 for the beta!)
Santa's Little Helper
Looking around at the paper decorations, the smiles on the crew’s faces, Steve had to admit that the idea for a winter holiday party aboard the Normandy was one of the better ones James Vega had had. Even though the galaxy was burning and the eggs in the eggnog were suspect. As was the milk. And maybe the nutmeg. Steve eyed the contents of his glass suspiciously. The thing passing as rum that he’d managed to scrounge up covered the worst of the ingredients’ faults.
He ought to thank him. Scanning the crowd again, he couldn’t see Vega anywhere, and he was a man hard to miss.
“Garrus, have you seen Lieutenant Vega?” Steve asked. He thought he’d enunciated okay, but he couldn’t tell from the amused way Garrus’s mandibles moved. Maybe the ‘rum’ was stronger than he’d suspected.
“We haven’t seen him for a while.” Tali answered playfully instead, long fingers cradling a glass of what Steve thought was turian brandy with...a straw in it. “Last time I noticed him, he was talking to Shepard.”
Finding Shepard in the crowd wasn’t difficult. Her red hair shone, reflecting the Christmas lights Joker had cajoled EDI into stringing around the mess. She was dancing with Traynor to some song he didn’t recognize, and he suffered a pang of regret for interrupting given the, er, looks on their faces.
“He tried to cut in,” Shepard said in amusement, stripping her hair back from her face with a thoughtless gesture. He felt warmth at how...happy she looked in that moment. “I think I saw him heading towards Javik.”
But when Steve went up to the Prothean, brooding along the wall, Javik said, “No,” before Steve even got a word out.
“I know where he is,” Liara’s voice said, and Steve turned to find the asari at his elbow. “He and Joker and Ashley are in the Lounge. Curious rituals you humans follow, would you have time to explain all this sometime?”
“I suppose so,” Steve agreed, feeling suddenly discomfited by the intensity of Liara’s gaze.
Getting to the lounge was only somewhat easier than tracking Vega down in the first place. The crush of the crew all crammed into the mess, minus a skeleton staff, made navigating the bodies difficult. Reaching the hallway, he breathed a deep breath, clinging to the illusion it was fresh air, then headed towards the informal lounge.
And stopped after he entered.
The three of them were wearing decidedly fewer clothes than he last remembered. Joker, with his back to him, was visibly wearing only one sock and his hat--Steve wondered what would go first, the sock or the hat. He’d never seen Joker without the hat. Ashley, sitting on the far side of the table from his spot, had fared a little better, in that he could see a brassiere at least. Although, come to think of it, he had no idea what she might or might not be wearing below the table. But Vega...to the left of Joker, Steve got a clear line of sight to see he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a red Santa hat.
Until he reached under the table and twisted, and the boxers were being deposited on a pile of other clothes in the center accompanied by his smug grin. “I raise you.”
“How did you...nevermind. You’re so full of shit, Vega,” Ashley said with a broad grin. Leaning over gave Steve a good view of her cleavage; it did nothing for him but Joker probably enjoyed it. Straightening, she dropped a cheerfully colored sock on top. “I call.”
“Oooookay,” Joker drawled out. “This is too rich for my blood. I’m out. I’m going to go find some more eggnog. Or maybe some apple juice. I think it might be safer.” He pushed himself out of his seat and grabbed for his clothes, not bothering to put them on as he stumped towards the door. Spying Steve, he said in undertone, “I’d get out while the getting is good, they’re both three sheets to the wind and making me uncomfortable with how much they’re leering.”
“How did he--”
“Don’t ask, man. Better not to ask,” he said, tugging on Steve’s elbow to follow.
Steve’s attention drifted back to the poker table just as Ashley stood up from her chair and, hips swaying, neared Vega. He was reaching for her waist when Steve averted his eyes, the image of the bobbing end of the Santa hat lingering and refusing to be banished. “Good plan. Let’s go find something stronger than the eggnog.”
BONUS DRABBLE:
As the original fill came a little under the requested minimum word count, I made up for it by writing a bit for another prompt, "Mac Shepard/Ashley is another one of my favorite pairings. This one could be during ME3 because Mac used the synthesis ending, or you could do Ashley reflecting sadly on their brief time together afterward. This would probably have a more melancholy theme than the other two, just because Mac was always the serious I'm-going-to-do-whatever-it-takes-to-save-this-damned-galaxy kind of a guy, even if it meant sacrificing himself. And he knew going into the final battle that he wouldn't make it out alive."
#####
There wasn’t a day that Ashley didn’t think of Mac: every morning when she woke up and saw the sheen of light coruscating over her skin or her green eyes in the bathroom mirror while brushing her teeth. Sometimes in a crowd she thought she’d hear his voice, just a fragment, but she’d turn to look and he wasn’t there.
No one knew what had become of him, just that he’d gone missing the same time the Great Change had happened. They’d searched the damaged Citadel for weeks, months and hadn’t found his body. Admiral Anderson they’d found near the Illusive Man, gunshot wounds in both of them...but no Shepard.
But Ashley knew, could feel it deep in her bones, that Mac had done this. That the synthetics that seethed through her and the truce declared with the modified Reapers was his doing. She missed him all over again, but it was different this time. The glow that caressed her reminded her of his touch, and she felt his warmth in the new thoughts.
A part of him would always be with her.