Ficlet: Rhythm (FemShep/Garrus)

Garrus must have been really immersed in what he was doing, because he doesn’t seem to hear Shepard coming up to the door. She starts to call out to him, pausing in the doorway, but then she stops herself and just watches.

He’s humming under his breath, head tipped down, focused on the guns and tools and mods he has spread out on the workbench in front of him. And he’s dancing.

In a manner of speaking, at least. It’s not a tango or anything that belongs in a club. But he’s definitely moving to a rhythm she can’t hear, slow and easy. Hips shifting, shoulders flexing, head tilting, and it doesn’t seem to interfere with whatever he’s working on, his hands sure and deft at their task.

Shepard watches for a little while. She can’t quite make out the tune, but she can’t remember the last time she saw him this relaxed.

Eventually it’s too irresistible. She steps forward, quietly, and comes right up behind him so she can trail the fingers of one hand down his spine. “Hey.”

This close, she can just hear the music that his visor is piping into his ear. He stills for a moment, but doesn’t quite lose the rhythm; she can still feel the muscles shifting under her hand. “Hey, yourself.”

She leans her cheek against his shoulder. “Mind if I join you?”

Garrus chuckles. “I think I can maintain my own guns.”

“Not what I meant.” She leans into him slightly, matching the beat he’s moving to.

“Why, Shepard, I can’t imagine what you do mean.”

“That’s a shame.” She turns her head so her breath is puffing directly against his neck. “I thought you had more imagination than that.”

“Oh?” He frees himself enough to turn around so he’s facing her, his hands coming to rest on her hips. She slides her arms around him in turn.

“That’s more what I had in mind,” she murmurs while they sway together.

“I’m not getting the work done, though,” he points out.

She lets her hands wander to his waist and grins when he inhales sharply. She takes care to lean in close to his neck before she whispers, “I bet I can make it worth your while.”

He pretends to think about it, even as his fingers do some wandering of their own. “Interesting proposition. What brought this on?”

“Do I need a reason?” She’s forgotten why she came in here in the first place. She doesn’t know if she can explain it, the appeal of that quiet moment, catching him unguarded and at ease for once. “Maybe I just wanted to test that rhythm you keep bragging about.”

“Mm.” He pulls her closer, still moving gently to the beat. “And what do you think?”

“I might need a more extensive test.” She presses her lips to his neck, just over his pulse.

His voice goes gravelly. “Your rhythm isn’t so bad, either.”

“I’m going to remind you of that the next time you mock my dancing in public.”

He laughs until she kisses him again. By then he’s found his way under her shirt and is tracing circles on her skin.

In the end, they both lose track of the music, but neither of them cares.