Fraternizing (a Mass Effect fanfiction)

Ann Bryson

Vega showed up at the open air restaurant in the Presidium—more his speed than the fancy sushi place, for sure—looking around him nervously for whoever his last date might be. For a minute, he thought he saw Shepard and his heart pounded hard, wondering if she could possibly be among the blind dates. But that was stupid, he reminded himself. Because Shepard was Shepard and James Vega was just some grunt who had been on the right ship at the wrong time.

"Mr. Vega."

It was Ann Bryson, looking as nervous as he felt.

"Dr. Bryson?"

She smiled. "Please, call me Ann."

"James. Nice to see you again. No ill effects from your ... adventure yesterday?" She had allowed Leviathan into her head so that Shepard could try to communicate with it. The experience had been hard on her, Vega could tell.

"None. Thanks for asking." She gestured around them. "You want to find a table?"

"Wait, you're my date?"

Ann nodded shyly.

James was impressed. Someone had finally gotten it right. He'd noticed Ann immediately when they rescued her. She was pretty, she was smart, she was brave. She was too good for him. Apparently that was his type. He smiled broadly, relieved to see Ann's answering smile. "Definitely, let's get a table. This place is pretty good with Earth food, I've found."

"What would you say if I told you I've never been to Earth?" she asked as he pulled out her chair for her. "I grew up on the Citadel."

"I guess I'd say you were missing out. You know, Shepard had never been, either, until she was there for the tribunal. That's how we met; I was her guard."

"No kidding. That's so strange. I mean, I suppose it's not that uncommon these days, but ... she's Shepard." Ann looked at him over the top of her menu. "So, tell me about Earth, then."

And he did—about the rolling waves of the ocean, the bliss in the chill breeze that came from it on a hot sunny day; about the feeling of lying under a tree listening to the wind rustle the leaves; about roller-skating down the street in a whole cluster of friends while the neighbors sat out on their porches in the evening breeze.

Ann was a good listener. Attentive, asking questions in all the right places. By the time the chocolate lava cakes were put down in front of them, James realized he had talked through the whole dinner.

"Lo lamento," he told her. "I'm sorry, I've been taking up the whole conversation."

"Don't apologize. I enjoyed it. You've had a very interesting life."

"Have I?" He thought it over. "I guess so. I mean, it seemed pretty normal at the time. Until I met Shepard, that is. Hard to feel normal on the Normandy."

"I guess so." Ann cleared her throat, putting her napkin on the table. "James, this has been lovely, but I have an early morning tomorrow, so ..."

"Oh." He was a little surprised; he'd thought they'd been getting along pretty well. Signaling for the check, he paid, and then held her chair again. "Let me walk you to the elevators."

Ann smiled. "I have to go do some shopping for new equipment, actually. But this was really nice."

"Maybe we could, uh, do it again sometime?" James was a little surprised to be asking. He hadn't intended for any of these dates to go anywhere. Mostly, he admitted to himself, he'd been humoring Shepard. She was under so much stress, he'd have done just about anything to entertain her.

"Maybe." Ann was still smiling, but James could read the look surprisingly well, given how long it had been since he'd been actively dating.

He wondered what had happened between the beginning of the date and the end. Was his face covered in steak sauce? As he walked away, he checked his shirt—spotless. Not a drop of sauce, not a crumb. Something he'd said, then. What? He'd tried to keep a watch on his tongue, keep some of the spicier elements out of the conversation. Things you could say to Shepard, for example, and she'd laugh and her eyes would twinkle and then she'd tell you to shut up and get back to work—those things didn't work so well on other women. Which was nothing against either her or them. Shepard was just ... different, was all.

The elevator doors slid open in front of him and he got on, punching the button to be taken back to the Normandy. Before the doors could close, a slender hand was stuck between them, and they opened again for Shepard herself, much to James's surprise.

"Hey, Lola," he said, trying for their usual easy bantering tone, but somehow it came out breathless.

"James." Those big brown eyes were staring at him from across the elevator. "So, we have a winner, then, do we?"

For some reason, Vega didn't want to tell her that Ann had nixed any future dates. "Maybe. She your pick, Shepard?"

She gave him that slow smile of hers, but it seemed off. Her heart wasn't in it. "Nope. Not me."

"Bummer. You know, if you'd tipped me off, I'd have tried to give you the win."

"Would you?"

He had to try hard not to blush. "I might've. I mean, you are my commanding officer."

"Yes. Yes, I am, aren't I?"

"Last I looked. Unless I screwed something up really badly and you're having me transferred." Dios, he hoped that never happened.

"What if I screwed something up really badly, James?"

"You, Lola?"

"Yeah. I could, you know. I'm only human."

"Not what the galaxy thinks."

"You know me better than the galaxy," she countered. "You know me better than most people."

"Not as well as Garrus." And man, did that burn him, that he wasn't part of the original inner circle, didn't have her trust the same way.

"No, that's true. Not as well as Garrus. Or Liara, for that matter."

"Right."

Shepard sighed as the elevator stopped. "We leave tomorrow, James. We've got to get Leviathan's help, no matter what it costs."

"I know that." He didn't like her tone, the way it sounded like she thought it would cost—everything. "But you'll do it. You always do."

"Yes. I always do." She sighed again and strode off in the opposite direction, no doubt to another meeting, while Vega returned to the ship.