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“Don’t you have your own shower, Commander?”
Ash is pretty impressed with how even she manages to keep her voice as Shepard drops her clothes and reaches out, testing the water temperature. Sure, the other woman has seen her in all sorts of states before – beaten and broken, half naked in the medbay, drenched with sweat in the training ring. It’s not even the first time they’ve shared a shower. But things have changed since then. Ash has changed. Ash has – okay, so maybe after having lost her Commander once and finally reaching an understanding with her, Ash has started to see the other woman in a light she hadn’t considered before.
A light that really isn’t suitable for being naked and wet in a small room with her. Or is too suitable, come to think about it. She really shouldn’t be thinking about it.
Shepard’s snort gets her attention, enough to make her glance over and see the vaguely disgusted look on the woman’s face. “Hot water cut out just as I was starting to unwind. I’ve had more pleasant surprises getting shot.”
Ash makes a vague sound of sympathy and quickly turns her eyes to the wall as Shepard steps under the spray of her showerhead, having apparently deemed the temperature warm enough. She’d been indulging in the hot water a little herself before her Commander had decided to interrupt, and consequently hasn’t even gotten around to washing her hair yet. She debates pretending like she has and just leaving, but she can still feel the sweat and grit from their last mission clinging stubbornly to her. She can put up with some embarrassment and minor discomfort if it means getting rid of that.
Next to her, Shepard makes a sound that is half sigh, half groan, and Ash can’t help herself, midway through working the shampoo through her hair. Looking out of the corner of her eyes, she can see the other woman just standing there, letting the hot water beat down on her shoulders, head hanging forward. Red hair sticks to the side of her face, obscuring it; it’s a strangely vulnerable position, and Ash feels a little touched that her Commander is comfortable enough around her to relax like this. She shouldn’t take advantage of that comfort by letting her eyes wander, tracing the path of water down the other woman’s toned back, over the curve of her hip, lower – except by the time she’s finished cataloguing what she shouldn’t do, that’s exactly what she’s done.
It’s not her fault. The other woman has freckles for crying out loud, a smattering across the otherwise pale skin of her shoulders. A network of scars crisscrossing her skin, some from battle, the rest surgical, and none of which Ash recognises. She even has damn back dimples, two indents that Ashley should definitely not be wondering what her thumbs would look like resting just there—
“See something you like, Williams?”
She jumps, spares a moment to thank genetic enhancements and soldier training for her superior balance, and promptly turns bright red. She catches sight of Shepard’s face, the flash of a grin as the other woman lifts her head, before she resolutely stares at the wall again. Much less interesting, much safer. She tries not to read too much into the other woman’s tone of voice, all throaty amusement. “No ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” She lets her own hair slip forward to hide both her face from Shepard, and Shepard in general from her as she washes the shampoo suds out. “It won’t happen again. Ma’am.”
The other woman sighs, and a faint thud alerts her to the fact that the other woman has dropped her weight against the shower wall. Ash can imagine it now, arms crossed casually over her just, one toned leg slung over the other.
The wall is exceedingly interesting today. Really.
“Here I am hoping that you did, and that it will.”
Ash stills in the middle of rinsing away the last of the shampoo, both hands resting on her head like it’ll help her mind scramble to understand what it is that Shepard just said. Finally she lets them drop, flicking her hair back out of her face as she turns back to stare at her Commander. Sure enough, Shepard is leaning against the wall just like Ash had imagined, head out of the spray of water as it continues to hit the rest of her body. She doesn’t think that the Shepard is self-aware enough to have done that intentionally, but isn’t that how it always works out with this woman? She’s broken more hearts by accident than she has faces with her fist.
“What?” It’s all she can think of to say, whatever eloquence she might have once possessed completely deserting her.
Shepard sighs, lifting one hand to tuck her hair back behind her ear, and Ashley tries so, so hard not to let her gaze flicker down, catch sight of her breast and the pink of a nipple. Needless to say she fails, much like every other endeavour she’s attempted since Shepard stepped into the shower.
“Ash, come on. I’ve done everything except literally throw myself at you ever since you stepped back on board.” A pause. “All right, and maybe a little before you stepped back on board as well.”
Okay, so maybe she’s noticed her Commander being a little more, uh, affectionate with her the past few weeks, but she’d figured that was just Mars. Nearly losing an old - comrade - can do strange things to a person sometimes. Or failing that, she’d put it down to being on the same ship against after Horizon. Ash doesn’t doubt that particular incident has left its mark on both of them. Hell, it could have just been Ash, letting her feelings get the better of her. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The point is, she hasn’t let herself consider any other option.
“You ever think about having this conversation with clothes on, Commander?” Ash asks dryly, trying to cover her uncertainty with humour. The way Shepard is looking at her right now is making it difficult to think.
“Frequently. Hell, I tried to initiate it once or twice, but you were pretty oblivious. I probably would have given the whole thing up if you didn’t keep finding excuses to touch me.” Shepard grins as Ash abruptly inhales a mouthful of shower spray, pushes herself off the wall and pounds her helpfully on the back. Her hand, once Ash stops coughing, slides to the small of her back and doesn’t leave. It’s like a brand pressed against her skin. Ash licks her lips. “What can I say? I didn’t want you to turn around all ‘I love you like a friend too, Commander’. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t any room for misinterpretation.”
Ash finds herself staring again, their faces close enough now for her to count the freckles sprinkled across the other woman’s nose if she likes. She doesn’t like, right now, abruptly distracted by Shepard’s words rather than her body. “Love?” she echoes, a fire of understanding lighting in her mind.
Shepard’s eyes widen, and she takes an involuntary half-step back. Her hand slips from Ash’s back to her hip, and is about to fall away when Ash takes some initiative and steps forward. Keeping it there. She opens her mouth to say something, she doesn’t know what, but Shepard interrupts her, apparently carrying on a conversation that she’d been hosting in her head.
“—and I’m not saying that accosting you in the shower was the brightest idea, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t misinterpreted things. If – if I have and you’d rather deal with a naked Thorian than me right now, I can put my clothes back on and leave and we can hopefully pretend like this never—”
Ash has never been good at that whole looking before you leap thing at the best of times, and that word ‘love’ is echoing too sharply in her mind right now for her to be able to think beyond – well, right now. Shepard being naked and so close to her doesn’t help either, so Ash’s brain makes an executive decision to go ‘to hell with thinking’ and turns itself off. She places one of her hands over Shepard’s on her hip and places the other on Shepard’s waist, tugging her closer as her mouth closes over the other woman’s in a kiss that’s all wet heat, insistent and sure. The time for hesitation is long past.
Shepard’s reaction is instant; the kiss is rough, biting, and everything about it tells Ash just how badly the other woman has wanted this. She spares a moment to curse her own obliviousness before her sense are filled entirely with Shepard. The other woman’s teeth tug at her lower lip and Ash’s fingers tighten at her waist in response, dragging her closer. Shepard does more than step forward, pushes her back against the wall, the kiss breaking as Ash’s shoulders hit it with a thump. She laughs, breathless, combing her fingers back through red hair and brushing it off Shepard’s face as the spray of the shower beats down on them. Ash is mostly out of its path but the water is still hitting the back of the other woman’s head, sending rivulets of water streaming down her body, following the path her curves and gravity dictates.
They’re both naked and the heat of all that bare skin pressed up against each other is making Ash dizzy with desire, but they’re both adults and it’s the end of the world. They’re allowed a little bit of impromptu shower sex if they want it. And God, Ash wants it.
“Are you telling me—” she gasps, inhaling sharply as Shepard’s head dips and she begins to kiss along her jawline, down her throat, the faintest hint of bite behind her lips. “Are you telling me that we could have been doing this for weeks now?”
She can feel Shepard’s lips curve into a smirk against her skin, doesn’t need to look down to see it. “If you’d been a little quicker on the uptake, yes.”
Ash can also feel Shepard’s knee pressing against her thighs, not insistent, but not passive either. After that comment she’s tempted to stop things there out of spite, except for the part where she’s not tempted to do that at all. She shifts, legs falling apart slightly, and Shepard takes shameless advantage of this; that knee presses up against Ash’s core, teasing, and the younger woman shudders. “Skipper, you can and - ah - h-have flirted with inanimate objects before.” Her Commander’s mouth has returned its attention to her throat, tongue drawing a sharp line along her clavicle. “You can’t blame me—”
Whatever she’d been about to say is lost to a low cry of pleasure as Shepard rolls her knee up, sliding against her clit and oh God she’s wet and it isn’t from the shower. Ash finds herself clinging to Shepard, nails biting into the skin of the other woman’s shoulders, dragging her closer still. She moves her knee again and Ash shudders, hips jerking down involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. A moan escapes her as Shepard’s lips reach her breast, fingers pinching and teasing one nipple as her mouth closes over the other. Teeth tug lightly, a sharp edge to the thrum of pleasure running through her that only pushes her higher. Hips stutter again and her thighs clamp involuntarily around the other woman’s leg, grinding down. Dimly she hears the sound of the water hitting the tiles and, bizarrely, hopes they’re not wasting too much of it.
Shepard’s mouth leaves her breast and she’s on the verge of making a sound of disappointment before she realises it’s trailing lower, pressing kisses down the centre of her chest to the plane of her stomach. A shiver of mixed anticipation and concern roles through her and she’s on the verge of reassuring the other woman that she’d doesn’t have to, that it’s really okay— when a disappointed groan is torn from her throat as that knee moves and friction deserts her, because even Shepard doesn’t bend that way.
“Something you need, Ash?” Shepard murmurs, tongue tracing a circle around her belly button, sliding lower and a little to the left, working towards her hip.
Ash’s hands leave the woman’s shoulders, nails dragging lightly from the back of her neck to grip her hair, maybe a little too tight. “I hate you.”
She can feel the chuckle reverberate through her lower belly, sending a sharp spike of pleasure shooting through her. “You keep saying that and one of these days I’m going to believe you.” She nips at the skin of her hip, presses a line of kisses down to the seam of her thigh, where her leg meets her pelvis.
“I don’t care what you believe, just don’t stop.”
Shepard’s hands come to rest on her thighs, holding them apart, and Ash swallows. She can feel her breath coming faster, chest rising and falling right until the point where the other woman turns her face up to look at her, green eyes half lidded and intense and – and something else. Her breath catches in her throat, chest stilling for a moment. One of Ash’s hands loosens from her hair without her say so, fingertips trailing down the side of her face, thumb rubbing lightly over the curve of her mouth. A faint smile twitches at the corners, nothing like the smirk of before; Shepard turns her head, pressing a kiss to Ash’s palm and as those green eyes release her, Ashley feels herself breathe again.
“I—” She falls silent, unable to process what it is she wants to say, let alone actually get the words out of her mouth.
Shepard’s smile widens. She chuckles, and Ash feels her thighs strain against a hold that had seemed light before, but is abruptly like steel when she tries to rub her thighs together. “Shh.”
She dips her head and Ash huffs despite the situation, eyes narrowing as she feels the other woman’s tongue sliding along that junction of thigh and pelvis, inching lower. “D-did you just shush m--”
She arches back with a wordless cry as Shepard abruptly turns her head, tongue flicking over her clit and sliding through her folds, exploring. Her head hits the wall with a thunk that she’s probably going to feel later but barely registers now, as every nerve in her body diverts south, the sensory feedback making her toes curl. Shepard is relentless, not pausing to let her catch her breath or gather herself or do anything except try not to grind down too hard, one hand still maintaining what she’s distantly certain is a painful grip on Shepard’s hair.
She lifts her leg, moans as the other woman’s fingers tighten on her thigh until Shepard realises that she’s not trying close off the sensation this time. The pressure relents and Ash hooks her leg over her shoulder, opening herself up further to the other woman’s tongue. The hand not clenched in red hair reaches up, grips the showerhead and hangs on because she doesn’t quite trust her other leg not to give out on her at some point. She can feel Shepard panting against her, shuddering as tiny puffs of air brush over her clit, heightening the sensation. It occurs to her that Shepard is getting off on this, too, and she moans again at the thought, noting the way that the other woman pauses at the sound only because pauses.
That moment doesn’t last long, though. Ash can feel the sounds building in her throat, tries to bite them back and succeeds only in half-garbling whatever it is that she wants to convey to Shepard, words reduced to pants and broken of syllables. The hands on her thighs are tightening again almost to the point of pain, but that only spurs her on, makes her desperate for release.
“She - ah - Skipper, I can’t, I - please!” The word tears itself from her throat as Shepard’s mouth closes over her clit and she sucks, tongue dragging out the sensation and Ash is lost as her orgasm crashes over her, hands clenching too-tight in Shepard’s hair and around the showerhead as her muscles spasm and still Shepard’s mouth works her through it until she finally relaxes, leaning boneless against the shower wall and trying to convince her fingers to let go.
Except that she’s pretty sure her grip on the shower is the only thing holding her up right now, and she’s not finished with Shepard just yet, so maybe that’s a bad idea. The woman is leaning her head on one of Ash’s thighs, absently tracing patterns on the twitching muscle of her other one; Ash interrupts this to tug on her hair lightly, smiling as Shepard willingly follows her direction and stands.
“You are…” Amazing. Incredibly. Wonderful. “…ridiculous,” she decides on eventually, dragging the other woman flush against her and stealing a kiss. She can taste herself on Shepard’s lips, salty and okay, not that great, but the idea of it is hot enough to send another shiver down her spine despite the fact that she just had an orgasm.
Shepard makes some sort of offended sound, but is almost immediately too distracted by the kiss to notice. It occurs to Ash that the other woman has to be quite worked up at this point, and she breaks the kiss, resting their foreheads together as she thinks about how to remedy that.
“Ridiculous wasn’t quite what I was going for,” Shepard admits. Ash’s eyes light up with curiosity as she notes the faint breathless tone to her voice, the way the fingers of her hand pressed to the wall next to Ash’s head are drumming.
“Can’t have your ego getting too big,” she whispers in return, kissing her again. This one is longer, slowly, teeth nipping her lip and exploring. No desperation – on Ash’s part at least. Shepard on the other hand is shifting against her, small movements that has their skin sliding against each other in a manner Ash can’t imagine brings any relief. She’s sort of expecting to be goaded into more, here. She’s sort of looking forward to it.
Sure enough, the other woman breaks the kiss and Ash feels a muted wave of heat wash over her at the glint in green eyes, the way Shepard draws in a slow breath and lets it out again, deliberately separates their bodies by taking a step back, and rakes her gaze over Ash’s naked form. She can feel herself throb, still sensitive from that orgasm. “I think my ego is doing juuust fine,” the redhead drawls, that damn smirk of hers curling up over one side of her mouth.
That doesn’t snap her patience. What does is the juxtaposition between Shepard’s cocky confidence and the hitch to her breath, the way she swallows when she thinks Ash is too distracted to pay attention, the sheer need written in every line of her body (for all that she’s trying to hide it). It occurs to Ash that Shepard has been waiting a long time for this. It occurs to her that she should do something about that.
Shepard is prepared for Ash to surge forward, hands gripping her Commander’s hips as she pushes them both back into the spray of the shower. That also says more about her ego than it doesn’t, but Ash can chastise her for that later. The feeling of Shepard’s naked body pressed flush against hers like this, the water beating down on them, she small sound the other woman makes in the back of her throat have stolen her attention entirely. Shepard might have had all the cybernetic strength behind her, but Ash is a soldier too, all compact muscle and hidden strength; it takes a series of three easy movements to have the other woman back against the wall, one hand shifting to cradle her head so that it doesn’t hit the wall like hers did earlier.
“So forceful,” Shepard murmurs, hooking one leg up over her waist. Ash raises an eyebrow at her forthrightness, but shifts her thigh forward obligingly to rub against the apex of Shepard’s legs. She’s almost immediately rewarded by the way her Commander’s hips stutter down, the other woman strangling a whimper before she lets it escape. She’s slick against her leg, hot, and a thousand images of the sort of things Ash could do to her flash through her mind.
She bites her own lip and carefully puts some distance between them, no longer exerting pressure. Shepard’s eyes widen and she shakes her head, almost like she’s denying that that just happened. “Ash—”
Her lip slips from between her teeth and she pressed her mouth to Shepard’s shoulder, leaving soft, biting kiss behind her as she worked her way up the slope of the woman’s neck. One hand twines in red hair, coaxing her to tilt her head so she has better access; Shepard acquiesces as Ash’s other hand plays up over her stomach, cups the weight of a breast, pinches and teases, rolls a nipple.
“Ash—”
Her mouth closes over the lobe of Shepard’s ear, teeth tugging; she gets a low, drawn out moan from the woman as a reward and can’t stop herself from smirking. “Something you need, Skipper?”
There’s a pause between them before Shepard’s entire body undulates, a move born of sheer frustration and need that stays unfulfilled as Ash shifts her body away from making contact. Shepard makes another sound, this one more of a groan as her leg jerks involuntarily against Ash’s hip and her fingers dig in. It hurts, but she doesn’t mind too much. Or at all. She has the normally unflappable Commander Shepard writhing in her arms, she doesn’t mind much of anything.
“You’re an asshole,” Shepard pants.
“What goes around comes around,” Ash replies sweetly. “You should be nicer to me.” She whispers it, completely and totally aware that the implied threat of stopping behind her words is complete and total bullshit.
“I think that nice is the - ngh - nice is the last thing on either one of our minds,” Shepard gasps. Her hips cant again and she swears, tangling both of her hands in dark hair and dragging Ash closer for a biting kiss. She’s going to be black and blue all over when this is done. “Goddamnit, Ash, fuck me.”
Whatever Ashley had been planning on doing or saying is immediately wiped from her mind in the face of that. She stares at Shepard, wide-eyed, before a shuddering breath escapes her and their mouths crash together in something that’s half kiss, half attack, and all desperation. Ash’s hand slips between them, between Shepard’s thighs; she doesn’t hesitate in touching her now, two fingers drawing up her slit, parting her.
She’s never done this before, not with another woman. But she is a woman, and she knows what to look for, if not exactly where she’s going to find it. She starts off easy, fingers rubbing tight circles over her Commander’s clit, earning her a sharp cry from the other woman that is quickly muffled. The sight and sound of the usually so controlled woman losing it like that is enough of an indication as to how close she is; much as Ash would like to get her off and fuck her again into a second orgasm, she’s mindful of the water beating down on her neck and back, lukewarm now.
So she slides her fingers down and back as that last kiss breaks and Shepard buries her face in Ash’s neck instead. She dips her fingers inside the other woman, quick, teasing, and is met with the sensation of Shepard’s teeth digging into her skin. She hisses, thrusts hard and earns an appreciative gasp for her troubles that trails off into a whimper as she keeps up the pace, the heel of her palm brushing up against Shepard’s clit every time she fucks her. She curls her fingers inwards, seeking, smirks as she feels the change in consistency and then moans as Shepard’s teeth close over her skin again, muffling another cry.
There’s no going back from there, not that Ashley has ever had any intention of doing so. She tests a third finger, just the tip, and works it in further as Shepard bucks in silent encouragement. Ash’s free hand is still tangled in wet strands of red, almost cradling the other woman’s head as she presses her face into her shoulder. Shepard is all but clinging to her now, that one leg still hooked tightly around her waist as blunt nails dig into the bare skin of her back. She can hear the small sounds the woman is making, and shivers,
“Skipper.” She’s breathless herself, twisting her fingers in the wet heat of her Commander, grinding her palm against her clit. There’s something far more intimate about the nickname than anything else Ash has or could ever call her, something that’s solely theirs. She tugs at her hair gently, a contrast to how hard she thrusts her fingers into the other woman now. “Look at me.”
It takes a moment, a pause, before she feels Shepard’s entire body shudder against her and she lifts her head. The woman’s green eyes, far from being glazed over, are hyper-focussed. They lock on her face as her mouth opens slightly in a quiet pant. There’s something in her expression that’s as naked as their bodies; Ash lets her hand slip from Shepard’s hair to cup her face, presses their foreheads together as a warmth that has nothing to do with desire suffuses her body.
“Skipper.” She says it again, follows it with a soft kiss. Makes sure to meet her eyes. “Let go.”
Shepard comes silently, shuddering, all but clinging to Ash as tremors wrack her body. Ashley can feel the other woman clenching down around her fingers and doesn’t stop until she stops, fucking her through the orgasm. Shepard holds her gaze until the absolutely last moment, tearing her eyes away with a low cry and burying her face in Ash’s shoulder again, teeth sinking into the imprint they’d left last time.
There’s a pause, a silence filled only with the sound of their breathing, harsh. And then Shepard’s leg slips from her waist with a heavy thump and Ash takes that as a cue to pull her fingers from the woman’s body, drawing another moan from her as she does so. She’s distracted enough by that sound that she almost misses the whisper of a kiss that gets pressed into her collarbone – almost. A low chuckle leaves her and she lifts her shoulder once or twice to get Shepard to raise her head.
“You know—” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat, tries again. “You know that the hot water is probably about to run out completely.”
Shepard does lift her head then, letting it thunk back against the wall. They’re still pressed together, and Ashley can’t help but let her mind wander again, thinking about getting out of this shower and heading to her Commander’s cabin and actually taking the time to explore the other woman’s body fully…
“Sorry, what?” She blinks once or twice, realising that Shepard had said something and she’s completely missed it.
“Technically not my problem.” Her eyes are closed now and there’s a self-satisfied smile stamped across her face. Not a smirk or a twitch of her lips or a half feral grin but a smile, and even if it is far too smug for its own good it only intensifies that warm glow in the centre of Ash’s chest. “’M not under the spray.”
Ash snorts, unable to suppress that smile that steals across her own face as she lets her head drop forward, fingers curling through the damp strands of Shepard’s hair. “You’re such a jerk.”
“I’m a jerk?” Shepard does a poor job of sounding outraged as her hands smooth down from Ash’s shoulders to the small of her back. “You were the one with the ‘oh is there something you need, Shepard?’”
That gets a laugh from her. “You started it! I was just returning the favour.” She nudges Shepard lightly and would have said more, but the shower chooses that moment to give up the ghost, spraying her with ice-cold water. Ash hisses, backing out from under it and more unfortunately, away from Shepard. She narrows her eyes for a moment at the amused look on the other woman’s face before her arm shoots out, grabs her by the wrist and tugs her through it.
“Hey—” Shepard’s protest is cut off by the way she stumbles to a stop, their bodies brushing up against each other again and a shiver runs through Ash that has nothing to do with the sudden chill of air brushing over wet skin. There’s a pause, before Shepard wraps her arms around Ash again, hesitantly presses a kiss to her forehead. “Hey.”
Ash closes her eyes for a moment, breathes in deep. She smells like soap and military standard shampoo, the fast disappearing scent of sex. “Hey.” Her eyes open. Shepard’s face is close, although not so close that she can’t focus on it, can’t take in the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips, how very green her gaze is. That warm glow expands again, steals the chill from her skin. “So. What now?”
The sound of the shower running cold behind them fills the space for a beat, two, as Shepard considers this question. Ash thinks that considering who <i>instigated</i> this whole thing, she probably shouldn’t be all that nervous about the other woman’s response, but the butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach apparently did get that memo.
“Now? Well, right now we’re standing here together in the bathroom, naked and—”
“Shepard.”
The other woman stills, sighs, steps away. Ash’s arms – Ash’s everything – protests the movement, but she doesn’t make any effort to stop her. Shepard steps under the freezing spray for a moment, shaking her head as if to clear it before she shuts the water off completely. The lines of her back are tense again, and Ash can’t help but think that she just undid all of that. It’s not fair for it to be back so soon.
“Are you – what do you want?” A pause, before the other woman turns around and ends up against the wall again, arms crossed over her chest. “I’m not under any illusions here, Ash. I mean it is the end of the world and all, and if I didn’t – if I wasn’t—” She rolls her eyes at her own apparent inability to get words out. Ash can relate. “Point is, if this was just a quick fuck in the shower, it was a quick fuck in the shower.”
There’s a long moment where Ashley just looks at her. She almost wants to make the other woman squirm, just so she knows what it feels like, but of course Shepard just meets her gaze, calm and accepting and maybe a little bit terrified behind all that. That last bit makes her feel a little better. It shouldn’t, but it does.
“Dinner,” she announces, placing her hands on her hips. Yeah, definitely still naked.
“What?”
Ash takes three quick steps forward and pokes the other woman in the chest, right above where her arms are folded. “You are taking me to dinner. And then we’re going to talk about this like mature adults. With clothes on!” Her demeanour softens and she reaches up, traces two fingers along Shepard’s jaw line. “This wasn’t just a quick screw, Skipper.”
She can’t say what it is about the other woman’s expression that changes. Maybe it’s just that some of that terror she thought she saw earlier dissipates. Or maybe it’s not the expression at all, but the way her shoulders drop, taking down some sort of protective emotional wall with them. Whatever it is, Ash thinks she likes it. “Tell me about it. Do you have any idea what that was like, waiting—”
“Shepard.”
“—All right, all right, I can’t lie.” A lopsided grin. “It was really good.”
Whatever reprimand Ash had been about to deliver dies on her lips to be replaced with a pleased smile. “Yeah?”
Shepard lifts a hand, traces a thumb absently along Ash’s bottom lip. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” A pause, as she reminds herself how to breathe and knocks the other woman’s hand away. “Stop that.”
“I know, I know. Mature adults. Anyone ever tell you that you drive a hard bargain, Williams?”
“All the time. Put some clothes on Shepard.”
Shepard grins and reaches for those damn dress blues that she’s barely taken off since she earned the right to wear them again. Ash sighs, shaking her head, and reaches for her own uniform. If you’re going to embark on a new romance at the end of the world, she muses to herself, doing it with the woman who stands the best chance of punching the Apocalypse in the face probably isn’t the worst idea.
If it is, she doesn’t care.