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ajremixTitle: Shooting the Breeze
Fandom: Mass Effect
Rating: PG-13 for a couple swear words
Word Count: 570
Characters: Shepard, Garrus
Summary: Spoilers for Garrus's relationship/friendship event in ME 3. Just a little healthy competition.
The two of you had to have been up there for over an hour and you don't know about Garrus, but you've lost count of how many bottles you've each shot down (it also makes you wonder where he got them all and the image of a proud turian general dumpster diving nearly makes you miss a shot, you start laughing so hard). All that really matters, though, is you've hit everything he's thrown at you (well, away from you) and he's hit all of his. It'd be ridiculous, this little pissing game you're playing, if it wasn't the most fun you've had in... you don't even know. Seems like you're always wading into one shitstorm after another since before you even died and being up here, joking with your best friend is like a vacation.
"Uh-oh. Looks like we've got a problem, Shepard."
Your first instinct is to turn all business until you hear the teasing lilt of his voice. "What is it? You conceding already?"
Garrus turns, holding up a bottle almost reverently. "We're down to our last target."
It's actually kind of depressing. No more bottles meant it was almost time to go back to all the stress and frustration and reality waiting at the end of a car ride. Of course, now that you remember it all, you know you have to go because you're Commander Shepard and you never run from your duty. "Alright, then." You take the bottle and toss it lightly in one hand. "We'll have to make it count. This one's for the gold, Vakarian."
Garrus's mandible flare in a turian grin, chambering another practice in his sniper rifle. "Alright, Shepard. Let's see if you can actually give me a challenge."
You actually manage to wait until his back is turned before you grin like an idiot who's up to something. You pull your arm back, gathering up biotic power in your hand and when you throw, the bottle rockets forward like a blue-tailed comet, arcing high over the Presidium.
Garrus lets out a startled, "Shit!" and the bottle has to be nearly 700 meters away when he takes his shot. And misses. He lets out another quiet curse but doesn't life his head up, just sights in again and when he takes another shot, you can't hear it but you definitely see the bottle-speck spin off course.
You give a lot whistle because- honestly, now -that was impressive. "Well," you say, "I think I feel confident in handing my Greatest Sharp Shooter crown to you."
"'Give it up'? Please, I was merely defending my title."
"It's a good thing we're practicing then. Two shots? I think you're getting rusty."
"Oh, and using biotics wasn't a desperate ploy to trip me up?"
"Maybe next time we should set up some ground rules."
"And diminish the challenge?" His mandibles flare again. "Never."
You share a laugh momentarily because there's flashing lights on an approaching car.
"Looks like C-Sec finally caught on to us."
"Yeah, we should probably go now."
"Good call. Out of the driver's seat, Shepard."
"What? Oh, c'mon! I'm a great driver!"
"No, you really, really are not."
The two of you argue about your driving skills all the way back to the Normandy and, even if you are eventually caught and reprimanded by C-Sec (and Joker laughs in your face when he finds out), you think this was a perfect day.
Fandom: Mass Effect
Rating: PG-13 for a couple swear words
Word Count: 570
Characters: Shepard, Garrus
Summary: Spoilers for Garrus's relationship/friendship event in ME 3. Just a little healthy competition.
The two of you had to have been up there for over an hour and you don't know about Garrus, but you've lost count of how many bottles you've each shot down (it also makes you wonder where he got them all and the image of a proud turian general dumpster diving nearly makes you miss a shot, you start laughing so hard). All that really matters, though, is you've hit everything he's thrown at you (well, away from you) and he's hit all of his. It'd be ridiculous, this little pissing game you're playing, if it wasn't the most fun you've had in... you don't even know. Seems like you're always wading into one shitstorm after another since before you even died and being up here, joking with your best friend is like a vacation.
"Uh-oh. Looks like we've got a problem, Shepard."
Your first instinct is to turn all business until you hear the teasing lilt of his voice. "What is it? You conceding already?"
Garrus turns, holding up a bottle almost reverently. "We're down to our last target."
It's actually kind of depressing. No more bottles meant it was almost time to go back to all the stress and frustration and reality waiting at the end of a car ride. Of course, now that you remember it all, you know you have to go because you're Commander Shepard and you never run from your duty. "Alright, then." You take the bottle and toss it lightly in one hand. "We'll have to make it count. This one's for the gold, Vakarian."
Garrus's mandible flare in a turian grin, chambering another practice in his sniper rifle. "Alright, Shepard. Let's see if you can actually give me a challenge."
You actually manage to wait until his back is turned before you grin like an idiot who's up to something. You pull your arm back, gathering up biotic power in your hand and when you throw, the bottle rockets forward like a blue-tailed comet, arcing high over the Presidium.
Garrus lets out a startled, "Shit!" and the bottle has to be nearly 700 meters away when he takes his shot. And misses. He lets out another quiet curse but doesn't life his head up, just sights in again and when he takes another shot, you can't hear it but you definitely see the bottle-speck spin off course.
You give a lot whistle because- honestly, now -that was impressive. "Well," you say, "I think I feel confident in handing my Greatest Sharp Shooter crown to you."
"'Give it up'? Please, I was merely defending my title."
"It's a good thing we're practicing then. Two shots? I think you're getting rusty."
"Oh, and using biotics wasn't a desperate ploy to trip me up?"
"Maybe next time we should set up some ground rules."
"And diminish the challenge?" His mandibles flare again. "Never."
You share a laugh momentarily because there's flashing lights on an approaching car.
"Looks like C-Sec finally caught on to us."
"Yeah, we should probably go now."
"Good call. Out of the driver's seat, Shepard."
"What? Oh, c'mon! I'm a great driver!"
"No, you really, really are not."
The two of you argue about your driving skills all the way back to the Normandy and, even if you are eventually caught and reprimanded by C-Sec (and Joker laughs in your face when he finds out), you think this was a perfect day.
