Given the Current Climate in fandom, I figured it was a good idea (and a good time) to do something like this. Basically, a series of short oneshots about male Mass Effect companions unabashedly loving men. Support gay and bi male fandom members. Support their narratives and their love.
Dating Shepard as the
Reapers approached the Milky Way from dark space had its ups and
downs. Dating Shepard while he was ‘stationed’ in Vancouver and
undergoing an investigation by the Alliance made things even more
difficult. Dating Shepard during the
Reaper invasion when everything was falling to pieces around them was
almost enough to make Garrus question his taste in men.
the most difficult part of dating Shepard came when the war was over
– introducing his war hero boyfriend to Castis Vakarian.
weeks, Garrus worried over the details. He booked passage to Palaven.
He spent hours on the comm, talking to Solana, sharing recipes for
levo-friendly dishes as well as requesting that she please –
please, please – make their father’s favorite meal. That
way, if all else failed, at least Castis wouldn’t have to pick around
something he didn’t find palatable. He knew that Shepard knew enough
about turians to not say anything horrible or even just out-of-line;
he had as much experience with them as Garrus did with humans.
set the date. They informed his father. And in less than a week,
Garrus was standing outside of the front door of his father’s
semi-permanent apartment on Cipritine’s border.
Bruce’s heavy lids fought against the current of sleep and thick blood as he came to again, blinking into darkness.
The sharp tang of sterilising liquids and metal permeated the damp cave, bringing his senses to back into focus. Pain shuddered through bone and flesh with every inhale and exhale of his breath. Bruce tried not to breathe, and failed. But he remembered that failure was something he was well accustomed to, and so he surrendered to it.
He became aware of a presence beside him, a source of warmth, of life, and reached out for it, a groan escaping his parched lips.
“Shit,” a low voice swore in a flurry of movement. A firm but gentle hand was pressed against his chest, coaxing him back down to the table. “Don’t move, B. Just… stay put, okay? We’re gonna get you patched up.”
“Jason…” Bruce said, grimacing as he lay his head down. “What… happened?”
“You tell me,” Jason said roughly. “Oracle called me saying you had gone rogue and cut all communications with her and he others. She sent me to make sure you were okay and I found you unconscious in the batmobile. Had to drag your sorry ass back to the cave myself.”
Bruce blinked at him, confused, still light-headed from the blood loss.
“Sick. Remember?” Jason’s voice was still, subdued as he cut strips of gauze with his back turned to Bruce. “He caught the flu yesterday and you sent him straight to bed. Well, more like, you requested he go straight to bed, and Alfie only complied after a snarky comment and finishing the dishes.”
Jason returned to Bruce’s side as he talked and began to carefully dress every small cut in practiced, routine movements. Bruce saw the small smile that tugged at the corner of Jason’s face disappear, a brooding look settling in his son’s eyes.
“Is he okay?” he pressed, suddenly concerned.
“Alfie’s fine. He’s still asleep and doesn’t know you almost died… so you’re welcome.”
Bruce relaxed with a small sigh, once again able to focus on his own pain instead of worrying about the pain of others. “Thank you.”
“Why the hell didn’t you just call for backup?”
Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again, knowing that every word spoken in his own defence would merely antagonise Jason more. And in this case, rightly so. So instead he watched Jason as he continued to clean the cuts on his face, taking in every small detail about his son.
The tired, yet ever-sharp eyes that seemed to see straight through him, as if he were transparent. Olive-toned skin, scarred in memories that were best forgotten, memories that neither of them talked about anymore. The strong jaw, set firmly in anger, and whatever other emotion was churning beneath that silent, dangerous demeanour of his.
“It was the Joker. I didn’t want him near any of you.”
At the sound of his name, Jason’s body tensed up in a reflexive, sickening rush of anger and gut-clenching fear, and Bruce hated himself for it. They sat there in a long moment of silence, water dripping from somewhere in the cave, the sound of bats’ wings rustling in the air above them.
“You needed our help, Bruce…” Jason’s voice rising with emotion, burning as he repeated his previous question. “Why.”
Bruce said nothing. Was determined to say nothing. He scrambled for any other excuse, for the one’s he had used a million times… but looking into the eyes of his son, he knew there was no hiding the truth from Jason. He closed his eyes, swallowing back the nausea, fingers trembling as those two words pressed against the roof of his mouth.
Jason deserves the truth. They all do.
“I’m afraid,” Bruce finally responded in a whisper. “I’m afraid, Jay. I… I can’t lose any of you again.”
Jason hung his head with a shaky sigh, bent over, broken as he hid his face in his hands.
And Bruce hated himself once again.
He gritted his teeth, mind racing through contingencies, mapping out every route, every end point for this interaction until he had prepared himself for every possible scenario. Every eventuality.
He was ready for Jason to storm out of the room, to yell at him, to cry, to go on a viscous and well-deserved tirade against him for how selfish he was being.
He was prepared for every response… except one.
Bruce felt his breath catch in his chest as Jason leaned down beside him, slow, intentional. Their cheeks touched softly, and Jason placed a kiss in the air between them before pulling back and resuming his work, avoiding eye contact as he took Bruce’s arm and began to stitch up an open wound.
Neither of them said a word. Not even as the tears began to trace down Bruce’s face in constellations of release. He didn’t even bother to turn away. Jason didn’t pry.
Father bled for son as son had bled for his father… and together, they shared their pain.