Re: Fill: Wax On, Wax Off, fShep/Garrus 1/9
anonymous
May 28 2013, 01:39:30 UTC
Garrus, for the first time in a long time, was nervous about going home. Home to Cipritine.
The wonder of it was the source of his nerves had nothing to do with his father, the situation with his mother's health, or his fraying relationship with his sister.
No, they were entirely caused by one Commander Shepard.
It's one thing, he thought, to have a perfectly logical nervous reaction to her modus operandi on the battlefield. It involved, simply enough, being a door-busting human projectile with a shotgun and trusting him to pick off all comers outside of her kill zone before they became an issue by flanking her. Nervousness, followed by the inevitable wave of focus that came with adrenaline, training, and the imperative for mission success.
It was the unintended consequence of needing to prove himself worth his berth and rations on the Normandy. It made them close. It made them know how the both of them perceived the ground as they took to the field. It forged a friendship.
The unfortunate thing with that, he was discovering, was that being friends with an alien meant that when said alien visits your home town and then as parting words on an omnitool call:
“I might need a little help. With my back.”
He had no, absolutely none whatsoever, point of surety as to what she meant. At all.
Oh, he was completely familiar with what it meant coming from another turian. Everybody knew that meant a particular kind of stress relief at a particular kind of venue. Garrus was good with unambiguous intent.
But coming from Commander Shepard?
Was it that meaning, or was he supposed to know it was something else, because humans don't do things like that, in that way?
And besides that, what was he supposed to do with the implication that if it was as he is used to understanding the phrase, she'd especially wanted to do it with him?
What about THAT?
Pull back, pull back, his gut warned him. Focusing too close, too soon.
That was a supreme effort, since residual parts of his mind were poking at the idea and besides feeling flattered (A superior who was competent, deadly, respected, who wanted him? Apart and above everybody else under their command? VICTORY) there was just plain confusion on confusion (How? Do you- Spirits, he was still weirded out by human external ears, let alone the rest of their bodies-)
Just do what you said you would do; show her places in Cipritine beyond the official tour. Show the places that made Cipritine home, the kinds of places only the locals know. Let the rest of it fall where it may. No need to get all squeezed in the gizzard about it.
She probably meant something totally different anyway.
Joining C-Sec was a crash course on how humans (or at least, the ones that made it into C-Sec. Perhaps there was a correlation?) wielded irony and sarcasm not out of conscious intent to lie (though they did do that, of course) but as a normal aspect of everyday discourse. It served to make understanding what they were meaning vs. what they were saying frustrating as all get out.
As far as he was concerned, only humans managed to turn a double affirmative, “Yeah, right,” into the total opposite in meaning, which was actually “No, it is not”.
And how could he forget the day he and a couple other rookies were made to do mind numbing filing?
“Awesome.”
“Great.”
“My day has been made.”
He was looking at them like they were insane, until he noticed the eyebrow and lip quirking that they were exaggerating at each other to signal that it was all to their distaste.
It went completely against how he was taught to receive orders; obey in silence and it is not for you to voice any opinions, unless specifically asked by a superior. He was already making mandibles clench with his earnest and respectful questions and objections about the standard procedures.
Only humans voiced obedience while distinctly broadcasting the opposite in their opinion at the same time.
It drove every single turian tasked with giving them orders up the wall.
Garrus was bad enough a turian to find it amusing, instead of completely aggravating.
The wonder of it was the source of his nerves had nothing to do with his father, the situation with his mother's health, or his fraying relationship with his sister.
No, they were entirely caused by one Commander Shepard.
It's one thing, he thought, to have a perfectly logical nervous reaction to her modus operandi on the battlefield. It involved, simply enough, being a door-busting human projectile with a shotgun and trusting him to pick off all comers outside of her kill zone before they became an issue by flanking her. Nervousness, followed by the inevitable wave of focus that came with adrenaline, training, and the imperative for mission success.
It was the unintended consequence of needing to prove himself worth his berth and rations on the Normandy. It made them close. It made them know how the both of them perceived the ground as they took to the field. It forged a friendship.
The unfortunate thing with that, he was discovering, was that being friends with an alien meant that when said alien visits your home town and then as parting words on an omnitool call:
“I might need a little help. With my back.”
He had no, absolutely none whatsoever, point of surety as to what she meant. At all.
Oh, he was completely familiar with what it meant coming from another turian. Everybody knew that meant a particular kind of stress relief at a particular kind of venue. Garrus was good with unambiguous intent.
But coming from Commander Shepard?
Was it that meaning, or was he supposed to know it was something else, because humans don't do things like that, in that way?
And besides that, what was he supposed to do with the implication that if it was as he is used to understanding the phrase, she'd especially wanted to do it with him?
What about THAT?
Pull back, pull back, his gut warned him. Focusing too close, too soon.
That was a supreme effort, since residual parts of his mind were poking at the idea and besides feeling flattered (A superior who was competent, deadly, respected, who wanted him? Apart and above everybody else under their command? VICTORY) there was just plain confusion on confusion (How? Do you- Spirits, he was still weirded out by human external ears, let alone the rest of their bodies-)
Just do what you said you would do; show her places in Cipritine beyond the official tour. Show the places that made Cipritine home, the kinds of places only the locals know. Let the rest of it fall where it may. No need to get all squeezed in the gizzard about it.
She probably meant something totally different anyway.
Joining C-Sec was a crash course on how humans (or at least, the ones that made it into C-Sec. Perhaps there was a correlation?) wielded irony and sarcasm not out of conscious intent to lie (though they did do that, of course) but as a normal aspect of everyday discourse. It served to make understanding what they were meaning vs. what they were saying frustrating as all get out.
As far as he was concerned, only humans managed to turn a double affirmative, “Yeah, right,” into the total opposite in meaning, which was actually “No, it is not”.
And how could he forget the day he and a couple other rookies were made to do mind numbing filing?
“Awesome.”
“Great.”
“My day has been made.”
He was looking at them like they were insane, until he noticed the eyebrow and lip quirking that they were exaggerating at each other to signal that it was all to their distaste.
It went completely against how he was taught to receive orders; obey in silence and it is not for you to voice any opinions, unless specifically asked by a superior. He was already making mandibles clench with his earnest and respectful questions and objections about the standard procedures.
Only humans voiced obedience while distinctly broadcasting the opposite in their opinion at the same time.
It drove every single turian tasked with giving them orders up the wall.
Garrus was bad enough a turian to find it amusing, instead of completely aggravating.
Well, this was delayed payback, then.
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