Entry tags:

!complete, cindy cendrillon (cinderella), garrus vakarian

Who: Cindy & Garrus Vakarian
What: Finally being able to relax after the Reapers have been defeated, and talking about the next step of life
When: Today
Where: The Vakarian Home
Rating/Warning: A lot of alien and human sperm talk here
Status: Complete!

For the first time in a year, Garrus could relax. Really relax, and thank the Spirits for that - because he was fucking tired.

Months and months of constant preparation, every day wondering if today was that day the intimidating set of red, blinking dots on the scanners would appear with one destination in mind: Earth. And like a biblical Judgment day they descended, merciless as always, but they’d been ready for it - so ready that Shepard didn’t need to bat an eye to run towards the Citadel beam and handle the rest of what needed to be done to eradicate them once and for all a second time.

There’d been no hesitation after that for him to commence a search. Dread weighed heavily on him, unsure of what the outcome could be (considering they weren’t sure if they’d ever find her, in the dreams) but the OC Gods must have smiled upon them the day a shuttle streaked across the sky and hit the Earth with her in it. Battered, bruised, and with a long road to recovery, but alive.

After that had been dealt with, he finally decided he could rest.

Garrus didn’t require anything luxurious, didn’t require a getaway to somewhere exotic with humid air and smoldering sunrays. Home would do. A home that remained standing, unaffected by what had come their way. A home where he could be himself, that veil of glamour down, exoskeleton exposed, talons filed and carapace polished. Turians had their own ways of staying well-groomed, you see.

“I don’t understand women’s fashion,” he honestly voiced, lounging on the couch like the bum he had the right to be. No guns on his back, no visor over his eye, not a damn thing to calibrate. Cindy had a thing for these reality competition shows; it either had to do with models exposing their metaphorical claws at one another, fashion designers coming up with things under pressure that were supposed to look runway ready, and if it had nothing to do with fashion?

Food. Why make a cake with fondant when he distinctly remembered fondant tasting like paper towels? Garrus didn’t always understand Cake Wars, either. “And I think wearing a dress made out of a potato sack has to be the worst concept I’ve heard.”

“Oh, it gets worse - I think in one challenge they had to make a dress for a model using supplies from a pet store,” Cindy grinned; she was snuggled up with her very reptilian husband to help tend to those talons because he needed to follow the parameters of a proper manicure. So she’d long ago accepted that she had a xenophile kink - but hey, a lot of people did, and she wasn’t the only fairytale princess (Belle, anyone?) with these tastes; besides, she’d read enough Mass Effect fanfiction to be assured that this wasn’t limited to just her either.

And damn straight she would lounge all on him, even if he was harder and literally spikier in places where she was all soft human flesh - but no matter. With the windows open and forest green lounge shirts and a t-shirt on, she wasn’t going to bother with anything fancy.

She was getting some spots that were missed with his filing, making sure his talons were shaped properly and sharp. “You’re all dry, you should let me moisturize you.”

It was nice to relax now. Honestly, a year of being on edge because of Reaper doom totally sucked the fun out of, well, life. They could hardly make concrete plans or really even properly celebrate with friends when something good happened for once - because they’d just been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Cuddling was the thing most people wouldn’t want to do with a turian. They didn’t have a lot of soft spots (evolution probably thought they’d die with too many of them but look how humans survived), and they also looked nothing friendly - the stereotype for them was stern, militaristic, and with whole forests lodged up their alien asses.

Mostly true. The species still cuddled, though. Garrus wouldn’t give it up - he’d mainly adjust, and hopefully not jab his wife with the sharper parts of him.

And speaking of the sharper parts of him. “Dry? You’re kidding,” he huffed, playfully insulted that she’d insinuate such a thing - but if she wanted to play the role of manicurist while they were vastly entertained by what the shit this show was (pet supplies, really?), he’d let her. Maybe poke at her side a little for a tickle with those supposedly dry talons. “It’ll look like you’re lubing up something phallic, Cin. Are you hinting?”

Alright, so the reptilian skin didn’t really lend way to retaining much moisture (that was an awful word) but Cindy would do her best regardless. “You know, haven’t you ever seen those commercials where they compare dry skin to like, snake scales,” she chuckled, reaching for her tube of cream - no cracks from the peanut gallery - and squeezed a bit out. At the very least, she could give Garrus a massage. That ought to feel somewhat pleasant?

“I was researching,” she went on, shifting to sit lotus-style on the couch cushions, kneading and stroking over the fleshy portions of his claws. “I learned that turian claws can sever a human’s carotid artery very easily. And that they also give live birth - they can have twins too, is that true?”

She had a lot to learn about the species, ever since her husband began turning into one - and she wanted to know everything, from what their recreation was like to their biology to their military rankings (obviously an important part of life). Of course Cindy could ask him, but she liked being proactive too. “How do people on the internet figure out these things?” Likely from the video games, but Garrus was kind of touchy on those - Cindy couldn’t blame him.

Researching. His vocals expressed a hum, very akin to a double-toned purr - could have been with the way she was working those alien digits, too. Can’t rule it out. May his skin be less comparable to snake scales by the time she was done with him, because it’d be uncomfortable for Cindy’s breasts to be fondled with hands rough as that. “It’s true,” Garrus replied after a minute. “Reproductively we’re not that different with the way things work. It’s what helps makes us sexually compatible with a human.” The basics remained the same. There was a dick to put into a vagina, then thrusting happened until completion was reached. Turians required that extra lubrication, though.

“And twins, they’re rare but they happen - do you need me to give you more intel on the biology?” His head dipped, a shift on the couch occurring to accommodate the height difference between the two of them (even on the couch), and he gently nuzzled the crook of her neck. “So far the facts are right. Surprisingly.”

“I will always appreciate more intel. Straight from the source,” she said, giving a bit of a purr of her own - because despite the height difference and, you know, texture difference she was always content with closeness. “Though since we’re on the subject and all...”

Cindy shuffled a little to try to do her part, and meet Garrus halfway, in terms of compensating for that ‘little’ vertical discrepancy. She sat on her haunches, propping herself up a little on the couch cushion, while the latest terrifying Project Runway assignment droned on in the background - like Tim Gunn said, people, make it work. “During the whole alien invasion battle - well, one of them - Lina and I were just talking...”

An odd place to have a conversation, maybe, but they were two badass babes who could multi-task. What of it? “Do you think now with everything settled, it might be a good time...for a clinic visit?”

Dun, dun, dun. The inevitable ‘preggo in the eggo’ discussion. Cindy felt like she’d been waiting a million years, for this momentous occasion.

“Hn.”

Yes, that’s the first thing that came out of that mouth. Hn. His facial expressions didn’t have the malleability and range human flesh could offer - there were some telltale signs of things that people were able to catch on, but overall he was a little difficult to decipher. What he wasn’t doing, however, was sweating bullets at the conversation or stammering like an idiot. Garrus always thought it was something he’d do when the idea of fatherhood came knocking more prominently on his doorstep, but instead?

Instead he captured her waist with those freshly moisturized digits, gently, and hoisted her onto his lap. Their genetics were different but he thought she still fit perfectly there, like two puzzle pieces that shouldn’t work but did anyway - she was soft to touch, sweet to smell, and with a mouth his always gravitated to.

Vakarian kissed her before responding. “Is that what women talk about in battle?” he chuckled, the sound smooth like steel and deep. “I’d love to have been a fly on that wall.”

He wasn’t giving her a straight answer yet - he was teasing first a little. Maybe he’d get that adorable nose twitch from it, or a punch in the crest.

Actually, Garrus got both - a nose crinkle (it wasn’t a twitch, was it?) and a thwap on the distinguished cockatiel crest. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Cindy stuck her tongue out at him, because that was completely the mature response. Well, at least the reaction hadn’t been ‘fuck no, why did I save that frozen penis pudding again?’ or something akin to never wanting to have children with her.

She shifted a little in the lap of her very tall, very statuesque spouse, draping an arm across the back of him and watching every miniscule change to that face of his - a flare of the mandibles meant a smile, or a smirk, that she was certain of.

“It just came up,” she pouted a bit. “In a ‘wow, what are we going to do next after we thwart the end of the world?’ kind of way.”

No doubt was there a smile despite the show of violence to his head. He may have deserved that one. Besides, Cindy was cute when she was worked up. “It’s a fair question,” came his casual admission, slipping his three-fingered hands up her shirt - ginger strokes to her ribs, a brush beneath her breast.

There was another hum. He was thinking; looked like he was so deep in it too, the pros and cons weighed. In truth they’d been assessed what felt like eons ago - this was just him being a thorn to her side. “I can’t let those handsome genetics go to waste, either. And there is something attractive about the idea of you carrying my offspring.”

Biology, maybe?

“Could be the fact that I love you, and I do want this with you.” Hnnnn. Yeah. Conclusion reached, and this time he laughed. “That’s probably it, honestly.”

“Good thing you tacked on the love thing, because if you just had gone with how attractive I’d look barefoot and pregnant, I might have choked you out with my thighs,” Cindy grinned, the words coming out in a sloe-gin sort of southern drawl she rarely spoke with. But she was feeling especially warm, like she’d downed a whole mint julep while sunning herself on the veranda. Aw.

And, okay, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to the barefoot and pregnant thing but it was sort of part of the process. She had a high pain threshold and an iron will, so, she’d make it. She’d pop out their spawn and revel in the miracle of life. “When should we go to the clinic? I mean, that’s...” Cindy paused. “We just make an appointment and go?”

She’d never been inseminated before. This was new for her.

“And I love you too, by the way. I want this, and if you want it too, then...” They were going to do it. Ohmygod.

“Not the worst threat I’ve received,” he pointed out, wishing there was a way to express how lecherous his grin was - he never minded ending up between her thighs as it was, and that’d be a nice way to die. Cindy could have cankles during her pregnancy and he’d still consider her beautiful, but a comment like that might make her next threat decidedly less sexy.

Anyway, Garrus had done his research. All part of preparing ahead of time, and volleying back and forth any doubts and concerns he carried over the entire thing - he’d been around Niko and Amelia enough to gather an idea of how it all worked, this concept called parenthood. “A doctor’s visit will involve you getting a basic exam, maybe the prescription of fertility drugs to up our chances the first round. Once that’s monitored and all’s well…”

Then they were going to do it.

And considering his schedule was relatively free the next several days? “I’m ready to go when you are. Say the word. You’re the one that’s going to be put through some interesting procedures throughout it all - we’ll go at your pace, however you want it.”

Literally, all he had to do was ejaculate into a cup. His job was easy and done.

Fertility drugs. That, for some reason, sent off mild alarm bells in Cindy’s brain - because what if she got knocked up with quintuplets or another astoundingly high number that she couldn’t contemplate? Yeah, she had a high pain threshold, but she wasn’t that large of a person - her birthing hips probably couldn’t handle all that baby, what if she broke her pelvis or something??

There was no point in freaking out over it though. If fertility drugs would help increase their chances of something turning out on the first go, then so be it. She did want this to be successful. She hoped this would be successful.

“I’ll make an appointment for an exam as soon as possible then,” she decided. “And we’ll go to the first round from there. Maybe - “ Cindy paused, thinking it over. “Maybe then we can just go away for a weekend or something, after the first round, while we wait and see if it worked or not?” Likely they’d be on edge wondering - perhaps this would help distract them.

No alarms went off on his head, though he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that multiples could be a possibility - but in his mind the chances were still rare despite the increase of likelihood, and he was more focused on making sure this whole thing worked to begin with. Garrus didn’t see why not, anyway, considering his sperm had been examined (turns out he had lively swimmers, lucky him) and Cindy was in tip-top physical condition. Time would tell.

“I’ll find a place for us to go,” he offered - the least he could do, considering he wasn’t the one that had to spread his legs and get something squirted in him. All those uncomfortable pokes and prods too? “And, I’ll, uh - I’ll either pull out or start wearing a condom while this whole thing happens. In case.” There was an awkward cough that cleared his throat. His current juice could mess things up there. It wasn’t scientifically proven but he wasn’t about to take the chance, either.

Precautions couldn’t hurt, right? But he was ready for this. Ready as he’d ever be. Maybe this time the whole ‘you’ve got supportive hips’ comment would be relevant in labor. Words of encouragement while she hated everyone and everything.

It would take a few weeks to see if everything was a-okay, Cindy assumed, but in the meantime? Nothing wrong with stealing a couple days out of that to enjoy moments to themselves - because when the baby came, they would have significantly less time for that sort of thing. Her family was going to be so happy, though she was pretty sure her stepsisters still didn’t get that an alien and a human could not make a half-alien baby. Sigh.

What Garrus said next shook her out of her train of thought, and blue jean eyes went wide for a second - because she hadn’t even realized that would be an issue? “Oh. I had no idea that was a problem. I mean - what exactly...” What exactly was the danger there, she was asking. Maybe she should find a geneticist who could explain all this to her, like Katherine’s big-footed beastly friend. “You don’t need to wear a latex dick prison though. If it’s a thing, just pull out. Not like you can get me pregnant again anyway.” It wasn’t the best method if you were trying to prevent pregnancy, but eh. In this case, moot point.

That would be one hell of a scientific miracle if it were possible, however. Shudder.

His sperm wasn’t lethal, no. That’d be unfortunate. “I just want to be careful,” Garrus clarified, tossing her playfully down on the couch - all so he could fixate himself above her with propped elbows. No suffocating the future mother of his child or anything. “My turian junk’s supposed to not be the kindest thing to shoot in you.”

Really. That was a romantic way to say it.

“I don’t think anyone’s been brave enough to study further whether or not it can cause humans any complications before conception or while they’re expecting,” he went on. His kingdom to have Mordin around to ask questions - the salarian doctor was a quirky genius, versed in the physiology of every Milky Way species. “I just want this to go right. And not have this ruined because of what I am, Cin.”

“It won’t be ruined,” Cindy promised, wiggling and letting out a huff of a breathless laugh after she was tackled. The wiggling was so she could accommodate her wordsmith of a turian husband between her knees a bit better, her hands raising up to cup his face - which to her was as handsome as he had been with human features. “We’ve done everything right so far, and it’ll continue to go right - because of us being careful and mindful of the health of any potential baby.” The health of all of them, really - they were a family, and expanding to add to that family was an important step.

She really did wish she was well acquainted with someone who was well-versed in alien science though. Apparently there was someone at the Agency, but Cindy didn’t know her from Adam. It was worth looking into, and perhaps she’d introduce herself.

His mandibles flexed, a sigh coming from that somewhat avian mouth - Cindy had stuck with him through the transition and final change, accepting him for who he was and what he was. To say what happened wasn’t an adjustment would be bull, but there was no one else who would have gone the lengths to help him through it like she had. It may have made the concept of getting her pregnant impossible in the traditional sense, but they’d worked around it like it was nothing. He hoped it’d remain so.

Garrus could fret about the trials of fatherhood after he knew what they were going to do was going to work, one hundred percent.

“You’re such an optimist,” the turian chuckled, kissing the tip of her rabbit nose. “But you’re right. This will work. Whatever it takes.” If it involved them tossing a wad of money to a reputable doctor to ensure the success, he’d do it in a heartbeat. “If - when - we reach the labor part, you won’t deck me if I encourage you by calling your hips supportive, will you?”

Ew, an optimist - she wasn’t that much of one, was she? Cindy poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth again in a show of dramatics, but then rose up a bit to plant a kiss of her own on Garrus’ face. “I’ll probably deck you,” she laughed, but hey, she was being completely honest here! “But for reasons that do not have to do with supportive hips.”

In that instance, she’d actually be glad for the supportive hips. It might mean she could successfully squeeze a baby through a hole the size of a quarter and not need a hip replacement right after.

She’d just try not to think about the bones that could break, and the ligaments that stretched in unfathomable ways, everything that happened while giving birth. “I’m totally getting drugs though. Lina’s my hero for not going that route, but I need drugs.”

Those plates that could be interpreted as brows over his eyes actually furrowed some, strangely, because he also concurred on the idea of drugs. Not that it was his decision, but he preferred her to be numb to the pains of birth. It was a universal truth that it was an experience riddled with uncomparable pain, and she’d be going through enough discomforts as it was.

“I respect and encourage that choice indefinitely,” Garrus voiced his approval. “Whatever you want - I’ll just do my best to make things easier for you.” He’d be consulting Neal and Pete respectively for advice, too, as at this rate they were far more experienced in the art of tending to their pregnant women and then adjusting to the whole…’bringing a newborn’ home thing.

It’d be one hell of an experience. He made a note to take on extra diaper-changing shifts, too.

“Thanks, honey,” Cindy purred at him, and while the possibility was high that she wouldn’t be in the mood for rationality in the delivery room she still appreciated that Garrus would be there and doing his best to help - even if biology dictated that she’d be doing most of the actual hard work and actual labor. She’d snagged herself a good one, what could she say.

Having a baby also meant that the Atlanta southern debutante crew would finally have an excuse to travel to the OC for a visit (at least they’d already been prepped on how weird it was here) but that was fine as well. This was something she was ready for - and ready to share with the odd ducks she called family too.

And hey, drugs definitely couldn’t hurt in that instance either.