"It's just a stupid, teenage thing," Shepard took a deep breath and tried to convince herself that she was only embarrassed on behalf of stupid, very human teenagers, and not nervous for some other reason.
He had a smell. It wasn't that she'd never been in close quarters with Garrus before, but it hadn't ever been like this, and it had usually been with an insulating layer of armor between them. This wasn't even the comfort of ordinary clothing, it was thin, fuzzy flannel and soft fleece. It was that gunmetal and salt turian smell wafting right down her throat and into her gut. She was suddenly hyperaware of her own imperfections, the way he must be able to see every line of her face from the dim glow of her cybernetic scars. He'd never really looked right without the visor.
Shepard wanted this.
"Okay, look. Let's just do this, and we'll worry about the rest later, okay?" Never one to linger in limbo where decisive action would serve better, Shepard seized his hands and put them, innocent as a middle-school prom, on her waist, "Like this. And then I'll just..."
She reached up, then, with both hands, and cupped his jaw-- or, his mandibles, rather, since the jaw itself was a little awkward by comparison. He was damned tall, and the closet was narrow, but not too narrow for this; Jane pulled Garrus down, and kissed him.
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He had a smell. It wasn't that she'd never been in close quarters with Garrus before, but it hadn't ever been like this, and it had usually been with an insulating layer of armor between them. This wasn't even the comfort of ordinary clothing, it was thin, fuzzy flannel and soft fleece. It was that gunmetal and salt turian smell wafting right down her throat and into her gut. She was suddenly hyperaware of her own imperfections, the way he must be able to see every line of her face from the dim glow of her cybernetic scars. He'd never really looked right without the visor.
Shepard wanted this.
"Okay, look. Let's just do this, and we'll worry about the rest later, okay?" Never one to linger in limbo where decisive action would serve better, Shepard seized his hands and put them, innocent as a middle-school prom, on her waist, "Like this. And then I'll just..."
She reached up, then, with both hands, and cupped his jaw-- or, his mandibles, rather, since the jaw itself was a little awkward by comparison. He was damned tall, and the closet was narrow, but not too narrow for this; Jane pulled Garrus down, and kissed him.