Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where.
"Enjoying the view, Major?"
Shepard remembers the first time she and Kaidan stood on this balcony outside Flux, staring at the view of the ward arms in utter astonishment at the scope of the place. Ash was with them, then, and it had all been new. Fresh. Simple. She misses those days, and for a moment the weight on her shoulders feels very heavy indeed.
He turns his head slightly at the sound of her voice, his eyes quickly taking in the civvie slacks and dark shirt, shore leave gear that hugs her curves and showcases the powerful muscles of her arms and stomach. He so rarely gets to see her out of uniform and for a moment he finds himself just staring. "I am now," he finally says, the hint of a smile on his lips.
Is that a blush creeping up her neck, reddening her ears? He hasn't seen that for a long time either; her time with Cerberus hardened her, and the war has beaten her down -- not to mention he knows she's as unsure as he is about where things stand between them now. Or perhaps they're both a little scared to try again, scared of what will happen if it doesn't work. The gentle tease feels like an awkward overture, a test of the waters. Are we back to the way things were?
"Not too bad from where I sit either," she answers, her voice a little throaty and wry, as she moves to lean against the railing next to him. Her gaze trails over his hair -- a little greyer at the temples by two years of hard work -- and the curve of his jaw, the jacket and pants and boots that give him a square, capable look. "Sight for sore eyes, really."
"Mm. All that devastation out there...nice to see something beautiful for a change," he returns lightly, keeping up the pretense of discussing the view, though he's definitely grinning now, his whiskey-brown eyes layered with amusement and warmth.
It sends a jolt through her, seeing that look in his eyes. It's so familiar and yet so distant, in the far past of her life. The fight against Saren seems millenia ago, and yet it was only two years, and even less for her who spent most of those years on an operating table, buried in half-formed dreams. She has missed him so much. You're playing with fire, Shepard, she reminds herself. You don't have room for heartbreak. Not these days...
"Yeah...it's a nice change of pace," she answers softly. "Reminds you there's something worth fighting for."
He takes that exactly as it is meant; she can see his head move back slightly, as if in response to a touch. He considers his response for a while in silence, and in that moment her fears get the better of her and she retreats back. Another time. Not here. I can't...I can't make this leap again, not this soon. She isn't afraid of his feelings, not anymore. But she's afraid of her own, afraid of the distraction that another pain like the pain on Horizon will bring with it. She can't afford that. She can't afford...
His hand rests on hers before she realizes what's going on and in a moment of instinct she laces her fingers with his, squeezing him like a lifeline in a storm. His palm is cool and dry against her constantly feverish skin. "Kaidan, I--"
"Shepard, listen," he begins, a sudden intensity in his eyes, but she cuts him off, pulls away, steps back, the hand he was holding snapping behind her back in an abrupt and almost military attention.
"We'll talk later, Kaidan," she says softly, and he can see the uncertainty in her eyes. It makes his heart turn over in his chest.
"I'd like that," he answers, with all the patience he can muster, and she is relieved that he isn't arguing. It takes an effort of will to turn and walk away, and she realizes as she enters the elevator beyond the wards that her heart is thudding in her chest.
