Miranda believes in humanity (custom_made) wrote in pathways_log, @ 2021-10-16 11:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | mass effect: commander shepard, mass effect: miranda lawson |
Who:Shep and Miranda
What: Frozen over
When: When Vegas got Frozen
Where: Miranda's
Ratings/Warnings: PG-13 for suggestive situations
Status: Complete
Sometimes Miranda wondered if Shepard actually got her hints and was playing dumb, or genuinely didn’t see them. It was a tough call which was more true. Shepard was smart and perceptive but also seemed to be a little clueless at times.
Or maybe she simply didn’t want to risk getting hurt. Miranda understood that.
She shivered as she wandered through her apartment, trying her damnedst to make sure her pipes didn’t freeze or some other horrific thing didn’t happen. It would be a good time for old enemies to show their faces, even.
Miranda wasn’t afraid, especially with the thought of Shepard there.
And she should probably wear more than a shirt and panties but she didn’t exactly have her winter gear out of storage and she usually slept in … less. Shepard would just have to deal with it.
Shepard was basically clueless, partly by nature and partly by being very, very out of practice. But that was...not beside the point, but not the main point.
She’d packed up a large, sturdy duffel bag and backpack with blankets and foodstuffs (under any other circumstances, she might feel weird about revealing her habit of keeping MRE kits on hand to civilians). She grabbed some other things too, like camping lanterns and batteries. She also threw in a few changes of clothes.
Then she bundled up as best she could, shouldered her packs, and set out for adventure in a Vegas Snowpocalypse. Which was not a thing she’d expected to deal with, but it was doable, and eventually she made it to Miranda’s apartment and knocked on the door.
Miranda made her way to the front door and pulled it open after checking to make sure it was actually Shepard. In her line of work, mysterious knocks could lead to bad ends, and shooting someone was not something she was in the mood to deal with.
“Shepard.” She pulled the door open, “Get in quickly before I lose what heat I have left.”
Shepard nodded and quickly entered the apartment. She set down her bags and started shedding her snow-dampened outer layers.
“I’ve got lanterns, batteries, blankets--I think there’s a sleeping bag in there, too--few other things. And a lot of MREs.” She piled her outerwear where it could dry without making anything else wet or cold, then ran a hand through her hair as she turned back to Miranda.
“How’re you holding up?”
“I’m…” Miranda swallowed, finding Shepard somehow more attractive than usual like this, which was something that she really didn’t have the time for.
But then she’d been dropping hints for weeks so what was she even doing? In another life, she’d be even more stubborn, and she would not bring herself to show weakness or vulnerability. Even in this life it was hard, but Shepard had always been someone she’d felt so close to. Hated at times, had other feelings at times. All a huge mishmash of emotions.
Either way, she surprised herself, “I’m better now that you’re here.”
Shepard smiled softly at Miranda’s admission.
“I’m glad to be here.” And she’d have gotten there somehow, no matter what. She knew that. And it made her flush a little, which she hoped just came across as left over exertion and exposure to the snowy landscape.
After a moment’s thought she unzipped her jacket—best to not keep any more layers on than absolutely necessary, right?—and draped it around Miranda’s shoulders. Which kind of made her feel like a nervous teenager, but she hoped that wasn’t obvious.
“You looked like you could use that,” she said softly, hands still at Miranda’s shoulders, adjusting the jacket slightly.
Well. That was sweet.” Miranda pulled the jacket closed a bit; she couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something like this, but then she couldn’t remember her last date.
“You should make yourself at home.” Miranda turned around and looked up at her. "We can pile the blankets onto the bed, it's the smallest room in the flat. If this goes on too long we'll need to share body heat."
Matter of fact, scientific. Yet her heart skipped a beat.
Wait.
"MREs?"
Body heat. Yeah. That…was a thing. She nodded and moved to unpack the blankets.
“Oh, yeah. Meals Ready to Eat—don’t need a heat source to cook them, just usually add water or do whatever to activate the heating pouch. Kind of like those hand warming pouches, but for food.”
She straightened up holding the pile of blankets and quilts.
“I…keep some around in case of emergencies.”
"I'm familiar," Miranda said, with the same sort of tone reserved for stepping in something rotten as she eyed Shepard as though not entirely convinced that it was just for emergencies.
"But this would qualify as an emergency and let it not be said that I am a woman above necessities."
Okay. That level of mild judgment definitely felt familiar coming from Miranda. “They’re better these days than they used to be. Not that you’ll exactly trust that.” Shepard shrugged.
“So...where’s the bedroom so I can put these in there?” Shepard asked.
"Frozen beggers can't be choosers." Miranda bent over and picked up one of the packs, carrying it into her bedroom. Her flat was spartan and pristine, decorated with a few paintings and cultural artifacts but utterly lacking in personality. Not a place one lived, but simply a place one might reside in for a time.
Her bedroom didn't have much more personality, save a closed laptop on a dresser. The only picture was next to the laptop, of Miranda standing next to a woman that might vaguely resemble a certain Subject Zero.
Shepard followed Miranda, taking in the decorating as she did. About what she’d expect for Miranda, really.
Except for the picture with someone who looked surprisingly like Jack. That got a brief eyebrow raise from Shepard, but she didn’t comment out loud.
She set the stack of blankets down on the edge of Miranda’s bed. She glanced at the picture one more time as she remembered her brief text conversation with Elizabeth.
“…just double checking, but…you are single, right?”
"Yes." Miranda didn't pay the picture any attention, mostly because she wanted to keep Shepard guessing and also because she really didn't feel like explaining that right now.
Her own brain couldn't wrap around just who her ex was.
Miranda set the bag down and surveyed the bed. It was queen sized, so plenty of room and under normal circumstances that would be a problem.
With the cold, they needed all the room they could get for blankets.
“Okay, good.” Shepard took a deep breath. She was fairly sure that the photo meant Complicated Things, but it wasn’t really her business. Though it was a little distracting to know that someone else she’d had feelings for in that other world apparently existed in this one as well.
“Because…I’m interested,” she said. “And obviously not good at this, and it’s been awhile since I’ve dated anyone.”
Okay, so this was happening like this. Miranda found herself at a momentary loss for words, staring at the bed like it was somehow the entire reason this was happening.
"Lets..." she waved her hand at it, and tried to gain control of the situation "Get comfortable. Surely two people can squeeze into that sleeping bag, you think?"
Okay, so that probably could have had better timing and have been worded better. But at least Shepard had actually said something out loud.
It took her a moment to process what Miranda had said about the sleeping bag. She started work on getting the bag out of containment, hoping Miranda wouldn’t notice if she was turning red—her ears felt like they were on fire.
“It should—I mean, it’s probably going to be…snug…but we should both fit.” Hopefully.
"It's a sacrifice we'll just have to make," Miranda said, deadpan. She was having some second thoughts but wasn't about to back down. Plus, it was clear she was embarrassing Shepard and that was priceless.
Unrelated, a part of her wondered if Shepard had some of her scars from her work. For purely professional reasons, of course.
Shepard shook the sleeping bag out and laid it on the bed. She looked from the bag to Miranda thoughtfully. Yeah, they could fit. Really close but they’d fit.
“So…do you wanna test it out or…?”
Miranda tilted her head, looking down at the sleeping bag, then back up at Shepard.
In for a pound, right? She tugged her top off, leaving her in only her bottoms, long legs and expanse of her breasts for Shepard to ogle if she chose. Then she slipped onto the bag, rolling onto her side and propping her head up with her elbow.
Shepard definitely appreciated the view. How could she not? Miranda was gorgeous…and had gorgeous breasts.
She took a deep breath and started undressing. Having come from outside, there was more to do than Miranda had had to. Luckily the boots had come off with the rest of the outerwear, but that left a couple of layers of socks. With those off, the bottom layers followed, leaving Shepard in her boxer briefs.
This left the scars on her right leg on nearly full display. Extensive burn scarring, some surgical scars, some scars that had likely been shrapnel. It was a testament of will and training that Shepard moved as well as she did.
Top layers came off next, leaving Shepard in nothing but a sports bra. She gazed at Miranda for a moment, thoughtful. There were faint scars here and there, and a good smattering of freckles. But the very noticeable scar was just below and slightly to the right of the curve of Shepard’s left shoulder. Clearly a bullet wound, clearly a fairly large hole at one time.
Shepard took a deep breath and locked eyes with Miranda. Then she removed her sports bra. It was only fair, right? Tossing it onto the pile with the rest of her clothes, Shepard crawled onto the bed and began easing into the sleeping bag.
Miranda had meant to play it cool, to keep up appearances. Even with no one to watch or judge her, she still judged herself as though she were her father judging her.
But the moment Shepard had stripped to her sports bra she found it hard to breathe. The muscles, the scars, the appealing hardness of this woman made it difficult to breathe.
She let her mind focus more on what those scars could mean. The stories they could tell.
At least, up until Shepard got about as naked as Miranda was and she started second guessing her plan. But Shepard felt ..... really nice.
"Well then,” she breathed.
Shepard had not had this much skin-contact with a woman in...longer than she’d want to admit outloud. Miranda’s skin was as smooth as it looked. She took a deep breath and fought the urge to admit she had no idea what to do with her arms at the moment.
She settled for--somewhat awkwardly--easing one arm around Miranda’s shoulders, guiding the dark haired woman to curl in against her. Which meant more skin was touching. Among...other things that were touching. But it felt nice and they fit better in the sleeping bag that way.
Gazing at the ceiling and fairly sure that she was blushing noticeably, Shepard asked softly, “This okay?”
Shepard's skin was ... textured in a way that was profoundly distracting. She hadn't really enjoyed someone in longer than she cared to admit, and Shepard was really the first woman she'd felt this level of attraction to.
A few weeks ago Miranda would be shocked at the position she was one.
Now?
She'd take Shepard in the engine room of the Normandy if that was an option. Miranda felt like she was on fire.
"Yes," she breathed, trying to regain her senses. Slowly, she ran two fingers up Shepard's back.
"You're far more comfortable than you look."
The fingers up her back made Shepard’s breathing go uneven for a moment. Okay. So maybe, just maybe she was a little touch starved. For...this kind of touch, anyway. She was, however, pleased that at least she hadn’t done anything really obvious like arch her back or something.
“Yeah?” She chuckled softly at Miranda’s observation. “I guess I do give off the angles, sharp corners, and...rock-hard muscle vibe.” She brushed her fingertips through Miranda’s hair and sighed. This felt...amazing. Just holding each other.
Miranda trailed her fingers back down Shepard’s spine, trying to suppress a shiver at the feel of her skin. Shepard was hard muscles and rough, scarred skin and it made her want to lose her mind, among wanting other things.
Her eyes fluttered shut and she might have let out just the barest breath of a moan at the fingers in her hair, “For the record, I vibe with that.”
Shepard was pretty sure she caught the sound of a moan, which made her breath hitch again. She made a mental note of Miranda’s reaction to having her hair played with and ventured to trail her fingertips in lazy circles on Miranda’s back.
“Gotta admit that I’m really, really glad you vibe with that,” she said. “Cause I definitely vibe with…you.” She couldn’t help but grin at how admittedly kind of ridiculous she probably sounded. “And I’m probably as bad as trying to word it here as I am in that other world…”
Unlike Shepard, Miranda had no shame and let herself arch slightly at the woman's touch. She didn't open her eyes, letting herself just enjoy the intimacy and be vulnerable in a way that really should have terrified her.
But Shepard made her feel like she could let her guard down. And that made Shepard the most dangerous woman alive.
What would she do if she really knew who signed off on her paycheck?
"Commander, you're an absolute dork, and I wouldn't have you any other way." Miranda's voice dropped to a low purr, "Though perhaps, that's not entirely correct."
That purr did things to Shepard’s insides. Among…other parts.
“That makes me one lucky woman, then.” She pulled Miranda closer and then shifted—a little awkwardly, given the close quarters of the sleeping bag—so that Miranda was mostly on top of her.
She leaned close to Miranda’s ear and murmured, voice husky, “And what other ways might you have me?”
Miranda lifted her head just a little, whispering something about rough hands and strong arms and leaving a mark on pale skin, before kissing Shepard in a way that betrayed just how long it had been since she'd been close to someone, and just how much Shepard had disarmed her.
Shepard returned the kiss, pulling Miranda’s hips closer to her own. The fervor in both actions spoke to how long it had been since she’d been this close to someone as well. She was also completely smitten, but other aspects of attraction were closer to the forefront at the moment.
"Shepard." Somehow that seemed more intimate than her given name, and at the moment that had slipped Miranda's mind. She let out a long, luxurious moan, hooking a leg around Shepard's and using that as if she wanted to remove any space that remained between them.
She wasn't a shy person, she wanted what she wanted and right now that was Shepard.
Hearing Miranda say her name like that made Shepard moan. Kissing Miranda again, she started to try to get out of her boxer briefs. There was no way to do that in any way that resembled “smooth” while in a sleeping bag, but there was also no way in hell Shepard was getting out of that sleeping bag now.
So she settled on guiding one of Miranda’s hands down between them, inviting her to explore as freely as she wanted.
This was simultaneously sexy and yet awkward, and Miranda wished she'd shed her panties too. They were liable to knee each other at this pace. The thought made her laugh into the kiss, though the sound quickly changed into something throaty as she started to explore Shepard. She was so warm and Miranda savored the feel of her.
Shepard practically melted at Miranda’s touch. She had to break the kiss for a moment to adjust her breathing. She swallowed hard and didn’t bother trying to suppress the moan that escaped her.
She traced a finger along the band of Miranda’s underwear, tugging at it gently but pleadingly. Shepard wasn’t really sure she could form words at the moment, but she wanted to make sure Miranda was okay with mutual exploration before she went further.
“Don’t you dare stop,” Miranda murmured. Maybe too soon to talk about things like safe words but talking was the last thing on her mind.
And she had every intention of making sure neither of them could walk in the morning.
Shepard simply grinned and murmured a quick “yes ma’am” before fully complying.