Well, I went through FanFiction.net and read through a number of Shep/Jack stories. Got me in the mood to finish another chapter.
I'm trying a new way of writing, seeing if it does the two any justice. Even more so than what my previous ones apparently did. Let me know if I got anywhere.
Here's part five of Son of Mindoir.
_3:00, P.M. _
----------------
-------- It was quiet. Couple of minutes ago, me and Jack were playing biotic tag, all across the damned room. What turned out to be just me and her trading shots ended up with her against the floor, and me holding her down. It was nice, that little small moment of silence…
Then she had to toss me across the damned room. Killed the entire moment.
I let her have that bout. If there was one thing I knew, it was that, when it came to fighting, Jack wasn’t one to back down. Same would have gone for me, had I not been worried about damaging the relics of my past. Jack being Jack, though, took it as ‘being a p*ssy’.
Some things…You just can’t explain.
When things settled down, I had my mind on 5. Because at that time, I was supposed to head out to some sort of party. Never really got the details of it, though. I assumed we’d have to put on something classy, when we did show..But therein lies the problem. Something like that’s just not gonna click with Jack, no matter how much I try to persuade her. No matter how much I try to convince her that being in a dress is not going to cause the end of the world.
But then..I had to see this from her side. Gorgeous as she was, there was no way in hell that she was going to rock a dress. Even I couldn’t see it. Plus, there was no real guarantee that she was going to was going to go any sort of party that worked that way – there was no real guarantee that I would, either. Everytime I did, it was for the sake of keeping a good image. But what image was there left to keep?
Council thinks I’m bat-sh*t crazy, Alliance is wary of me because they think I’m with Cerberus, Ash doesn’t trust me, anymore – hell, I’ve never even heard from her, since Horizon. Given our past, you’d think she’d at least send a friendly e-mail…
Friendly…Huh. Should have thought about that before I brought her grandfather into it.
The distrust wasn’t just in Council space, though. Honestly, it was even more evident, in the Terminus Systems, and it was amplified by the fact that no one really trusted each other, to begin with. A former Alliance officer? Resentment. Spectre? Even bigger resentment. The fact that I’ve had one too many encounters with Eclipse, Blue Suns, and Blood Pack probably didn’t do any favors for my reputation, either.
…But then again, I was never trying to gain it from them. Hell, after what the Council and the Alliance pulled? They can all go to hell, too.
Because in the end, they weren’t important. Not to me, no. They stopped being that when they did to me, what I allegedly did to them. When they did the thing I had to wait TWO. DAMN. YEARS. To attempt to do.
Betray them. Deny the blame, and shift it to someone else. A certain dead Spectre said that, once. I wonder if it was more of an insult to me, or them.
“Shepard.” Jack had called after me. By now, she’d been testing out the comfort of the bed we were sharing. Haven’t even used it, yet, and already, the damned thing looked FUBAR. I’d been sitting against the wall, below the window that overlooked the front yard, when she spoke my name. Last, rather. Never really got why she still called me ‘Shepard’, when she knew my first name.
“Yeah?” I called back, trying to work the tensing in my back.
“Get your ass over here. Y’gotta try this sh*t out.” Jack slapped the left side of the bed twice, pinpointing where she wanted me to be. Hell, it was more comfortable there than it was, on the wall, and I sure as hell wasn’t hurting the wall’s feelings. I followed that command to the letter, and plopped down, next to Jack. She’d been sitting up, knees to her chest, and back against the wall. She turned her head to look at me…And that was it. Like she was examining me, or something. I didn’t really mind, whatever reason behind all of that was. Because she’d forgotten that I’d knocked that goddamned visor off of her face, when I took her down, to the floor. I had a good look at those brown eyes, set up with an olive skin tone, and full lips. I tried not to smile, but my muscles won that fight. I was pretty damn sure that she could see the Krogan sized grin on my face, because in the next moment, her brows slanted inwards.
“The f*ck you smiling for?” Jack asked. Didn’t want to tell her why. So I came up with something not entirely truthful. But hey, it was relevant, for what it was worth.
“The sun plays nice on your skin.” I answered, when though I wasn’t paying attention to much, other than her facial features. But just saying it caused me to look down. To the canvas she called her body. I shifted myself forward, and let my hand envelope itself inside of that star, etched around her navel. And then I gave the examining look back. Within four seconds, Jack swatted my hand back to its side, and snorted. I got her, I really did. She liked the compliments; showed that, as ugly as she tried to make herself look, that someone could see past it. That someone could look at her and say ‘now THAT’S a woman’. Hell, it’d probably mean more if it was said right next to Miri, with her being the perfect package.
But at the same time, Jack didn’t know how to react to that. She didn’t know how to respond to a compliment. The closest thing I believe she ever got to one was someone copping a feel. But this? Guy walks in, remarks on her eyes, her lips, and her bod? First thing he goes for is the tattoos? Hell, I may be wrong, but I don’t think that’s ever happened, to her. But all in all, she’s received her share of ‘compliments’. And I guess she’s going to respond to good ones the same way she responds to all of the assh*les she’s met, in her life. Regardless of the fact that she didn’t count me among them.
“Do something wrong?” I asked. Jack’s eyes were trained on the white walls in front of her; guess she was set on not looking at me. But at least I got a response.
“It’s just…Shepard, you do these things, and it’s just..I dunno, y’know?”
“What, compliment you?”
“Sh*t like that doesn’t normally…It just doesn’t happen.”
“To you?”
“F*ck do you think, Shepard – ain’t like I’m taking about anyone else!”
Playing the clueless card got me nowhere. The volume in her voice told me just that. Her eyes fell to the carpet, then lower, to the edges of the bed.
“F*ck…I’m sorry, okay?” She’d finally say.
“Jack.” I called, trying to get her to look towards me. Come to think of it, I’ve seen this look before. Once when she came to my cabin, before we made the jump, the second after the Collectors were stopped, and the mission was done. She got like that, whenever something got hard for her. Like she couldn’t think of what else to do, or say. Or that she knew what she wanted to say, but just couldn’t get the courage to say it. Could have been for one of two reasons; that she didn’t want to be soft, or that she didn’t want to be hurt.
She wasn’t in danger of being either.
“Jack.” I called, again. Slowly, but surely, she turned to look at me. Seeing those eyes again..Well, it brought back the grin. But I had something to say, so I was going to say it, before my muscles earned me a one way trip out of the window.
“Stop apologizing.” I said.
“Come here.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Don’t know what the f*ck I was thinking, I just barreled myself onto him. Sh*t..Don’t know what kinda game he was playing…But I
liked it. I
loved that sh*t. All the time I’d been with him, not once did he screw me over. He doesn’t want anything from me, and he’s damn sure not hurting for a f*ck. Just what, though?
What the hell does he want?
…Funny…That’s the first f*cking thing I said to him. Heh.
The guy just holds me there. I’m back to having my head on his chest, where I can hear his heart beating. Ended up laying down with him; sitting up was getting’ too f*cking uncomfortable. And we just laid there, for a while. Neither one of us felt like saying a damn thing. Didn’t need to. What we were doing was fine.
But then he just
had to f*cking do something.
I felt him kiss the back of my head – where the tattoo was? I could tell because of how smooth it’d been; anywhere else, the sh*t woulda been f*cking irritating. Like an idiot, I just looked at him. I felt like caving his sh*t in, y’know? But…Sh*t. Don’t think I should have looked. Because the f*cker kissed me square on the lips, right after it.
That, right there? That sh*t, I did not get. Why all of this teasing? I mean, Shepard
claims he ain’t looking for a screw. But whenever we get like this? He’s all over me. His hand gets real close to my ass, and then he
just..keeps..kissing. I mean, what the f*ck? Is he baiting me in, or some sh*t? This supposed to be his way of f*cking cuddling?
Why am I even CUDDLING to begin with?
I keep thinking that he’s just screwing with me. Like he wants to see if I’ll just jump his bones, at some point. But why do that? What the hell do you get, from accomplishing THAT f*cking goal? Does he want to see if I’ll crack first? So he can have something over me?
‘Cause if he is, it’s a little f*cking late, for that. It’s been a while since we killed those f*cked up insects. And even longer, since then. Took five weeks for that sh*t back at the Citadel to blow over, and it’s been at least 14 goddamn weeks, after that. If it was gonna take this long for him to consider me ‘buttered up’, I’d have f*cking been a fossil, right now. Besides, it wasn’t no secret that I didn’t mind. Shepard’s been good. It’s just this bullsh*t here that just…Just pisses me off!
Well, f*ck that. F*ck whatever he was doing. F*ck whatever he was trying to pull, and f*ck whatever road he was trying to take.
I wanted him. And when I want something? I
take it.
He thought he was done, but when he broke that kiss, I pulled his ass right back into it. Coulda swore I heard something snap. F*ck it. Not important, right now. I pushed myself on top of that f*cking boy scout, and showed him who was running this damn show. Only time I ever let him break was when he had to breathe. Clinched onto his waist, and started grinding back and forth, on him. Think he had a shirt on, or whatever. Didn’t care. I tore that sh*t apart, and left it where it f*cking fell.
Doing this gave Shepard a big enough reason to palm my ass. F*cker squeezed super hard, so I set him straight with a jab to the ribs. Then he goes and slaps my ass, like I’m some goddamned Cerberus wh*re. Gave him an even bigger punch, cause of that; caused him to break the kiss, again.
“Do that again, and the next one’s gonna break ‘em.” I told his ass, wrapping my arms around his neck, to pull him back into what I had, going on.
See, I had a plan. The sh*t he was doing? Baiting me into wanting to f*ck him? Yeah, I was gonna do it right back. ‘Cause Shepard thinks. An’ he’s a quick one, at that. So I had to be quicker. Figured if I kept at it, the way I was going, and if Shepard’d got a big enough hard on? ‘Thinking’ would have gone out of the motherf*cking window.
An’ sure enough, I was right. One little slide back towards his hips and I KNEW I was turning him on. Victory only got sweeter the minute he shouted “F*ck it!” and rolled me onto the bed.
Guy went straight for my pants, and I don’t know how, but he got ‘em past my f*cking boots. Jumped right back on me, and was about to get his own sh*t in the open, when a terminal starts ringing louder than all f*cking hell, on the left side of the bed. I could literally sense he was getting pissed off. Didn’t go for the terminal, for the first few rings – he REALLY wanted to get this over with. But Shepard, being the little ‘mission first, personal matters second’ son of a b*tch he was, finally had enough of that sh*t. He pushed himself off of me, and stormed to the terminal like a child with a damn temper tantrum. When he accepted the message, it was real clear that I got to him. ‘Cause he really wasn’t thinking straight. Which made for the enormously funny ass sh*t he had to say for the caller.
“There’d better be a goddamned code crimson f*cking red emergency. Batarians had better be sh*tting bricks on the Kodiak. The Suns, Eclipse, and Blood Pack had better be attempting to hijack my damned ship. There’d better be a motherf*cking Thresher Maw – no five Thresher Maws – terrorizing a damn colony. There’d better be some big information that’ll cripple Cerberus. There’d better be some Collectors that survived the attack that are coming to get revenge. The GOD. DAMN. REAPERS…Better be in plain f*cking sight. BECAUSE IF NONE OF THAT SH*T IS HAPPENING!?”
“Um…Mr .Shepard? Ms. Smith would like you to come down to the plaza.”
Words couldn’t describe how close I was to dying from laugther. Hell, if there was a good way to go, that’d be the only one. Shepard looked like he lost the screws in his jaw, the way he f*cking had his mouth open. Must’ve realized he looked stupid, ‘cause he shut it, after a few seconds, to ask the guy on the terminal what it was about.
“She says it’s about the party.”
If I was laughin’? I wasn’t, anymore.
“Wait…What f*cking party?”
Modifié par Sundown Native, 22 août 2010 - 09:58 .
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This Shep has made some amoral type decisions, no doubt about it. I can't remember if he punched that reporter in ME1 or not. I don't think he did, I think he refused the interview with her. 
I like the way she narrows her eyes at Miranda, and says "You die first".
