"The Care & Feeding of Spectres" -- 5a/? -- FShep/OC!M!Turian
anonymous
February 2 2013, 20:58:51 UTC
Silus is nervous as hell as he sits at the table and waits for Shepard to return. It had been about a week since the Normandy left port, and he hadn’t expected to see Shepard back on the Citadel. He had come to the bar expecting to grab a few drinks, and maybe spend some time talking to a few of the regulars. This is so different from what he had expected that he’s not entirely sure how to behave.
Shepard is back before he can begin to puzzle out the nuance of the situation. She places a green drink in front of him, and then slides into her seat, a brown bottle in her hand. Silus examines the bottle. It’s not something he’s seen before and he’s not entirely sure what it is. Of course Shepard notices.
“It’s a drink from Earth,” she explains, lifting it and rotating it so he can see that there is a label affixed to it. “I asked them about it so many times that they’ve made a point of having a couple in stock for me and the other humans. I can be... persuasive, when I want something.”
There’s something to the way she says persuasive that has him fighting the urge to squirm in his seat. She’s giving him this smile that he can’t begin to decode. And then the moment passes, and she’s taking another sip from that bottle, and he’s fighting the urge to throw back his entire drink in one gulp.
He doesn’t know much about humans, but the more time he spends around her, the more he wants to know. He wonders if all humans are like this, or if Shepard is unique, even for them.
“Do all humans drink that?” He asks, hoping to keep the conversation going.
“No, but a lot of them do,” She starts to explain that it’s called “beer” and that there’s a lot of different varieties to it. He’s making the right noises of interest, he assumes, because she keeps talking.
Then it’s her turn to ask about what turians drink, and he’s trying to explain it, and absolutely fumbling. While she knows a lot about her beer, he knows next to nothing about dextro alcohol. But she’s teasing, and the conversation is lighthearted and entertaining, rather than humiliating.
He’s sipping his drink, and just starting to relax when he sees Vakarian enter the bar. Shepard sees him too, and waves him over. Vakarian nods, and stops at the bar on the way over.
It gives Silus a moment to compose himself. He may not know about humans, but he does know about this. Vakarian outranks him by so much he’s not even sure how to quantify it. He’s got more awards and medals than most turians will ever see, and has even turned down a few promotions. He’s not sure about how this works for humans, but for turians, this can be complicated until both parties are certain of their relative rank.
“Garrus! You finished your calibrations?” She and Garrus both laugh before she turns to Silus. “Silus Imbrex, Garrus Vakarian.”
Garrus nods cordially, his body language neutral. Silus tries for the same effect but feels himself failing. He’s never been good at this, always the awkward man out, the one who almost has things right, but never quite gets it.
“You’re a groundskeeper here, right?” Silus starts in surprise as he realizes Vakarian knows who he is. He’s not sure if it’s a good or bad thing, and Vakarian is still so neutral that Silus has no clues to work from.
“Janitorial, but yes, same umbrella.” Vakarian nods, and passes Silus another turian-friendly drink. “Thank you.”
“How did you end up on the Citadel?” Shepard asks, shifting in her seat so she can see both of them at the same time. It gives Silus a good view of the curve of her waist, and he has to work at not gawking.
"The Care & Feeding of Spectres" -- 5b/? -- FShep/OC!M!Turian
anonymous
February 2 2013, 20:59:41 UTC
“I ah-“ He isn’t sure how much she knows of the mandatory public service, and he doesn’t want to bore her with inane details. “There are a few ways to find your niche when it’s time for you to begin public service. You can voluntarily fill a role, or you can take an aptitude test if you’re unsure.”
Shepard is nodding, her gaze focused on him, clearly interested. It makes him feel braver. He wonders if it’s always like this around her, if her crew is so unerringly loyal because she makes them feel like they matter.
“I didn’t want to join the military, I don’t really have the stomach for that sort of thing,” His gaze slants to Vakarian, “No offense.”
“None taken,” Vakarian nods, his interest in Silus’ story as evident as Shepard’s. It’s a strange realization. “So you joined the sanitation division?”
“No, actually,” Silus continues. “I was actually an administrator on Oma Ker for most of my service period.”
“Well,” He doesn’t know how to explain, and almost wishes he’d just kept things simple. But since he’s brought them to this topic, it’s only right that he finish explaining. “My brother was here on the Citadel and got himself into trouble. I had hoped to intervene and steer him away from the path he was taking but...”
He lets his sentence trail off, unable to finish the statement. His brother is gone, and he can only hope that he found the peace in the afterlife that he never found while alive.
“I see.” Garrus sits back. He’s not saying it directly, but as he speaks, his voice is full of sympathy. “And you’re still here.”
“Yes,” Silus can’t quite look at either of them. Shepard, because he had let himself forget-if only for a minute-that she was so far out of his reach, and this conversation is a painful reminder, and Vakarian because he’s not sure if he can face the empathy.
Shepard’s hand is on his arm, the touch so gentle and unexpected that he finds himself staring at it instead of reacting. He notices a scar between two of her fingers, and wonders where it came from. He wants to ask, and maybe if he hasn’t ruined his chance at friendship tonight, he can ask her one day.
“I’m sorry to hear about your brother,” she says.
“Thank you,” he manages, but it’s hard. Emotion is choking him. He hasn’t told anyone else about this, partially because it’s personal, and partially because nobody has ever taken the time to ask.
They are silent for a long moment. He’s certain he’s killed the conversation for the night. Awkwardly he stands.
“I apologize for burdening you with that. I think I should go.”
“No,” Shepard’s hand is still on his arm, but now she’s holding him there. “Please, stay.”
He sits. She smiles.
That is when she launches into a story about catching someone trying to smuggle “space hamsters” off a planet in their undergarments. The best part, Garrus informed him, was that it was perfectly legal to take space hamsters off that planet, but the poor fool hadn’t believed her, and had tried to pretend he was surprised to find them in his underwear. In another situation, their telling the story together might have made him feel alienated, but it isn’t like that. They are trying to make him laugh, and it is working.
The night wears on, and he tells them about the time he had to step in and separate two very drunk elcor who were attempting to consummate their relationship on the Presidium. They laugh just as hard at that as he does.
It’s late when they part ways, and as he watches them walk away, he can’t help wondering if this is what it’s like to have friends.
Re: "The Care & Feeding of Spectres" -- 5b/? -- FShep/OC!M!Turian
anonymous
February 3 2013, 01:24:04 UTC
I'm sorry you had a bad day, OP. I'm glad I had this up to cheer you up, and I'm very pleased to hear you're enjoying it.
As stated in section 0, I'm pretty easily stalk-able, so if you ever wanna talk about things with an internet stranger, you can PM me on ff.net or whatever.
Re: "The Care & Feeding of Spectres" -- 5b/? -- FShep/OC!M!Turian
anonymous
February 3 2013, 09:42:11 UTC
The minute you said 'Groundskeeper' (even though it was corrected to Janitor) I thought of something- Oh my god, could Silus know Willithrex? That would make my fucking day even if it only comes up in a sidelong way.
Loving this, it's sweet as all hell with nice little hints of plot crawling in around the edges.
Shepard is back before he can begin to puzzle out the nuance of the situation. She places a green drink in front of him, and then slides into her seat, a brown bottle in her hand. Silus examines the bottle. It’s not something he’s seen before and he’s not entirely sure what it is. Of course Shepard notices.
“It’s a drink from Earth,” she explains, lifting it and rotating it so he can see that there is a label affixed to it. “I asked them about it so many times that they’ve made a point of having a couple in stock for me and the other humans. I can be... persuasive, when I want something.”
There’s something to the way she says persuasive that has him fighting the urge to squirm in his seat. She’s giving him this smile that he can’t begin to decode. And then the moment passes, and she’s taking another sip from that bottle, and he’s fighting the urge to throw back his entire drink in one gulp.
He doesn’t know much about humans, but the more time he spends around her, the more he wants to know. He wonders if all humans are like this, or if Shepard is unique, even for them.
“Do all humans drink that?” He asks, hoping to keep the conversation going.
“No, but a lot of them do,” She starts to explain that it’s called “beer” and that there’s a lot of different varieties to it. He’s making the right noises of interest, he assumes, because she keeps talking.
Then it’s her turn to ask about what turians drink, and he’s trying to explain it, and absolutely fumbling. While she knows a lot about her beer, he knows next to nothing about dextro alcohol. But she’s teasing, and the conversation is lighthearted and entertaining, rather than humiliating.
He’s sipping his drink, and just starting to relax when he sees Vakarian enter the bar. Shepard sees him too, and waves him over. Vakarian nods, and stops at the bar on the way over.
It gives Silus a moment to compose himself. He may not know about humans, but he does know about this. Vakarian outranks him by so much he’s not even sure how to quantify it. He’s got more awards and medals than most turians will ever see, and has even turned down a few promotions. He’s not sure about how this works for humans, but for turians, this can be complicated until both parties are certain of their relative rank.
“Garrus! You finished your calibrations?” She and Garrus both laugh before she turns to Silus. “Silus Imbrex, Garrus Vakarian.”
Garrus nods cordially, his body language neutral. Silus tries for the same effect but feels himself failing. He’s never been good at this, always the awkward man out, the one who almost has things right, but never quite gets it.
“You’re a groundskeeper here, right?” Silus starts in surprise as he realizes Vakarian knows who he is. He’s not sure if it’s a good or bad thing, and Vakarian is still so neutral that Silus has no clues to work from.
“Janitorial, but yes, same umbrella.” Vakarian nods, and passes Silus another turian-friendly drink. “Thank you.”
“How did you end up on the Citadel?” Shepard asks, shifting in her seat so she can see both of them at the same time. It gives Silus a good view of the curve of her waist, and he has to work at not gawking.
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Shepard is nodding, her gaze focused on him, clearly interested. It makes him feel braver. He wonders if it’s always like this around her, if her crew is so unerringly loyal because she makes them feel like they matter.
“I didn’t want to join the military, I don’t really have the stomach for that sort of thing,” His gaze slants to Vakarian, “No offense.”
“None taken,” Vakarian nods, his interest in Silus’ story as evident as Shepard’s. It’s a strange realization. “So you joined the sanitation division?”
“No, actually,” Silus continues. “I was actually an administrator on Oma Ker for most of my service period.”
“And then?” Shepard prompts, leaning forward, clearly interested.
“Well,” He doesn’t know how to explain, and almost wishes he’d just kept things simple. But since he’s brought them to this topic, it’s only right that he finish explaining. “My brother was here on the Citadel and got himself into trouble. I had hoped to intervene and steer him away from the path he was taking but...”
He lets his sentence trail off, unable to finish the statement. His brother is gone, and he can only hope that he found the peace in the afterlife that he never found while alive.
“I see.” Garrus sits back. He’s not saying it directly, but as he speaks, his voice is full of sympathy. “And you’re still here.”
“Yes,” Silus can’t quite look at either of them. Shepard, because he had let himself forget-if only for a minute-that she was so far out of his reach, and this conversation is a painful reminder, and Vakarian because he’s not sure if he can face the empathy.
Shepard’s hand is on his arm, the touch so gentle and unexpected that he finds himself staring at it instead of reacting. He notices a scar between two of her fingers, and wonders where it came from. He wants to ask, and maybe if he hasn’t ruined his chance at friendship tonight, he can ask her one day.
“I’m sorry to hear about your brother,” she says.
“Thank you,” he manages, but it’s hard. Emotion is choking him. He hasn’t told anyone else about this, partially because it’s personal, and partially because nobody has ever taken the time to ask.
They are silent for a long moment. He’s certain he’s killed the conversation for the night. Awkwardly he stands.
“I apologize for burdening you with that. I think I should go.”
“No,” Shepard’s hand is still on his arm, but now she’s holding him there. “Please, stay.”
He sits. She smiles.
That is when she launches into a story about catching someone trying to smuggle “space hamsters” off a planet in their undergarments. The best part, Garrus informed him, was that it was perfectly legal to take space hamsters off that planet, but the poor fool hadn’t believed her, and had tried to pretend he was surprised to find them in his underwear. In another situation, their telling the story together might have made him feel alienated, but it isn’t like that. They are trying to make him laugh, and it is working.
The night wears on, and he tells them about the time he had to step in and separate two very drunk elcor who were attempting to consummate their relationship on the Presidium. They laugh just as hard at that as he does.
It’s late when they part ways, and as he watches them walk away, he can’t help wondering if this is what it’s like to have friends.
_____
A!A here; my captcha is "drunkards" XD
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LOVE it all so far, everything!
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As stated in section 0, I'm pretty easily stalk-able, so if you ever wanna talk about things with an internet stranger, you can PM me on ff.net or whatever.
Regardless,hope tomorrow's better.
~ <3 A!A
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Do you plan on putting this on AO3?
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Loving this, it's sweet as all hell with nice little hints of plot crawling in around the edges.
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I try to be pretty flexible, and may be able to manage something?
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Guessing they meant this fellow, although I hadn't heard that name for him, either.
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If that's who the other anon meant, I could definitely work him in. :) I sort of had some plans for that already...
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mGKQhuDW6B4
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I'll see what I can do to get some of those bits in.
~ A!A
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