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From the first time Shepard laid eyes on communication specialist Traynor she knew she was in trouble. It was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen in her life. Her light caramel-coloured skin. Her eyes appeared dark brown, but the lighting in her cabin showed hints of hazel around her iris. And then her accent. God. She had to do her best not to let her knees buckle when Traynor spoke. It was a polished English accent. Though her last name sounded English, she was quite certain she had Indian roots. When Traynor moved closer to her to show the retrofits she could smell her. Something like melted caramel with hints of citrus-infused fragrance. It reminded her of the cupcakes she used to love when she was little, so she did her best to not inhale it – too obviously. Shepard also noticed that Traynor was shy, stuttering and someone who most likely would put her foot in her mouth more often than you would think. But there was also a cheekiness. When she had revealed that EDI was a fully aware AI and not a VI she apologized to EDI. Something about an attractive voice. She didn't really register her conversation with the AI. She was still too captivated with the woman in front of her. After dismissing her, she couldn't help her to watch her while she stepped in the elevator. God… every curve accentuated her figure perfectly. She leaned against the wall behind and let her head fall against it.
Yes. She really was in trouble.
***
As the time went by, the specialist had shown her that she was a valuable asset in her team. She made sure she would be on duty when she and her team were groundside. It was indeed the real reason, but the bonus was that the two of them would have more interaction. Asking questions about her and her life. Just to know her better. But she kept blushing and stuttering when they spoke with each other. She was still not relaxed around her, while with the other crew mates she wasn't like that. It made her feel a bit jealous. Especially when other female crew mates were, obviously, flirting with her. Sure she knew her own reputation. ‘The Butcher of Torfan’, the Alliance Renegade and so forth. But that was only on the battlefield. Maybe Traynor had a hard time seeing that distinction? Or was it the orange glowing scars on her face? It didn't matter. She was not giving up.
***
After The Normandy had docked at the Citadel, Shepard had visited Ashley in Huerta Hospital and ran some errands, she still had a few hours left so she went to the Apollo cafe for a coffee. The view there was nice. You could see the Citadel gardens from there. Even though she loved her ship, sometimes it could feel very confined. So every chance she got, she would go here to decompress. While hanging over the balustrade she saw a woman jogging. It was Traynor. Her heart almost skipped a beat. She couldn't keep her eyes off her, she kept them trained on the specialist. And then Traynor tripped. Her knee hit a bench. And hit it hard. Without thinking she ran to the elevator, and thank god, this time she didn't have to wait endlessly until it arrived. After the doors opened again she made a beeline for the damsel in distress, knocking everyone and everything over while she tried to reach her. There she sat. Her hand on the already swollen knee while blood trickled out a cut.
“Traynor, are you okay?" She asked more worried than she intended to be.
She could see how hard Traynor tried to keep her tears at bay.
"Commander?” What are you doing here?" Traynor was clearly confused about the fact that Shepard was in the vicinity.
“I saw how you tripped and hit your knee." This time Shepard could control the worry in her voice a bit more.
“Oh bloody hell… you saw that.” She answered nervously.
Even though her cheeks were already flushed from the workout, Shepard would swear that her face even flushed more.
“Come. I'll help you up. My Spectre office is not far from here. I'll patch you up there."
“Euh, oh uh no, Commander, that isn't necessary. You uh probably have better things to do." Traynor stammered.
“Call me Shepard, Traynor. Or Quinn if you would like too. We're off duty. And no I don't have anything better to do and even if I was, can't have my best specialist limping around on board… do I?"
God am I really trying to flirt right now? I'm pathetic. Shepard mentally facepalmed her self while feeling things stirring in her stomach.
It had been a long time she had been so close to Traynor. Last time was during the first day onboard. She always kept a professional distance between them, it killed her, but didn't want Traynor feel threatened by her or worse, that Traynor thought she would be too pushy. She just couldn't figure out if Traynor was interested in her…. at all. Sure the specialist was openly gay… too openly perhaps, but so far she had deflected any advances others had made on her, if she had to believe EDI. She wasn't proud of herself, but she just had to know.
"Uh, thank you Comma…. Quinn, but only if you call me Samantha or Sam. Preferably the last one."
She took the hand that Shepard had held out to pull her up. She winced uncomfortably while standing up. Instinctively Shepard immediately pulled her arm over her shoulder and stabilized Traynor around her waist to elevate as much pressure off her knee as possible. And then Traynor scent hit her nose. That same smell as when they met, but now entangled with her bodily sweat and for Shepard that smelled even better. Sending another surge of those fluttering things. She was trying hard to keep her composure.
***
After arriving at Shepard's Spectre office she gently sat Traynor down in her office chair and went to get the medkit that hung on the wall next to the shooting range. While walking back, it hit her. She had to touch Traynor. For a moment she really had to work hard to put her brain back into working mode instead of oh my god I'm going to touch Traynor mode. Really? What the hell is wrong with me??.
“Quinn? Everything ok?”
" Uh yeah, Sam.” God, that felt good, to call her by her first name. Just trying to remember basic field med."
“Really? The great Commander, the Hero of the Citadel, doesn't know how to treat a busted knee of us mortals?” She replied mockingly.
Shepard was caught off guard. This was a side she hadn't seen from Traynor before. Not towards her at least. She could get used to that.
“Well, we ‘heroes’ have an armoured suit that injects medigel automatically.” Shepard responded sarcastically. "But yeah. Been a while that I had to treat you ‘mortals’. Gunshot wounds? No problem. Stab wounds? In my dreams. But I promise I'll be careful.
Pinky promise?" Traynor said seriously while holding out her pinky at Shepard.
“Sure." Shepard chuckled and held out her own pinky to catch Traynor's pinky.
After Shepard applied the medigel and helping Traynor move around to see if her knee indeed worked again, she tried to come up with something before Traynor would leave. She wanted to spend more time together. Alone. No eyes around them. Then it hit her. Non-coms almost had no gun training. Just some basics from basic training.
After Shepard pitched the firearms training she could see a grin forming on Traynor's face. Shepard couldn't keep her eyes off her. She just loved how relaxed Traynor now seemed to be around her. She now really got to see Sam and not Specialist Traynor.
***
As they stood at the shooting range, Shepard got the lightest pistol she had. The M-3 predator. After she loaded it with a fresh thermal clip and handed it over to her, with the safety still on, ofcourse. She stood behind Traynor and first placed her hands on her hips to turn her into the right position while making sure her feet and knees were in the right stance. After the stance was correct she moved her hands up Traynor's arm. Positioning them at the right angle and ending by glancing over her shoulder to see if the angle of the gun was right. Every time she touched Traynor, her jaw clenched hard. Making sure she didn't inhale her delicious scent while, in the meantime, trying to suppress all the sensory feedback she got from touching her. It felt like torture, but she would do it all over again if it meant to be in her aura. It felt like a drug, and she wanted more.
After firing a few shots Traynor's results weren't half bad for a non-com. But she wasn't prepared for the next question:
“Quinn, may I shoot your rifle?" She asked innocently.
“Sure, why not. Need help?"
“I'll think I can manage after your brilliant teaching." She answered teasingly.
Shepard didn't know what Traynor was up to, but the way she said brilliant gave her suspicious feeling. She decided she must have imagined it and reached for the Typhoon. As she handed it over to Traynor she went to stand behind her. The recoil of this beast is enormous. She watched how Traynor loaded the thermal clip into the assault rifle, flawlessly. Shepard raised an eyebrow, but she wasn't really surprised. Traynor had demonstrated time and time again that she is highly intelligent and a quick learner. She looked at her stance, which was very solid and she had no pointers how she handled the gun. Then the thunderous sound bursted out the assault rifle, in bursts. And then nothing. Traynor put the gun down and walked slowly to the exit of the Spectre office. When Shepard looked up at the target, her jaw dropped. Circles of bullet holes, perfectly in the middle.
“Why didn't you tell me you can shoot, Sam?” Surprise filled her voice.
"You never asked me, Commander." A sly grin sat on her face.
The door opened, but before she went through the door Shepard had to ask her one more question.
“Sam. You are trouble aren't you?"
Traynor looked back and gave Shepard a wink as she exited the office and
the door closed again.
“Goddamn. I'm in love." Shepard said out loud, to herself