When two prompt lists collide, they make this. Have some fluff :)
Their laughter hushed as they reached the front door, eager hands halting in their playful prelude to something far more passionate as both attempted to open the lock at once. Grinning at each other the pair indulged in a long, slow kiss, letting their joined breath sustain them until heartbeats softly roared in their ears. Somewhere in that time the door slid open and two bodies tumbled inside, hips and shoulders bumping into the wall, jackets falling to the floor, feet stumbling a little over the carpet. It took a moment for the quiet, the dark, to register through the fog of desire to awaken combat honed senses.
Pulling apart they exchanged glances, she automatically gliding across to the cabinet for a pistol whilst he dropped a hand to his side, concentrating on the power building in his palm, ready to strike. Together they moved in harmony, heading deeper into the apartment, toward the single point of flickering light. Prepared to defend each other to the death - if absolutely required - but more interested in arresting and detaining any intruder, they were expecting a fierce, fast reaction. Which is exactly what they got…just not the way they had expected.
Sprawled on his back, boots tossed under the coffee table and the light of silenced late night ad vids joyously dancing over his face, James Vega was fast asleep. Across his chest lay, in equal abandon, his latest partner in crime, long lashes firmly closed to the outside world and dark curls glimmering in the pale light. The table was littered with all the evidence needed of a wild night of debauchery.
"I never thought I’d see the day."
"This is…just…wow. Should we get a photo of this?"
"No! That’s not fair….definitely. Do it."
In seconds it was done. Vega’s eyes snapped open, one arm curling protectively around the body on top of him, ready to leap into action. Until his bleary sight cleared and he looked up into the carefully innocent faces of his superior officers.
"What?" He managed to gruff. Kaidan chucked a thumb over his shoulder at the vid screen that now proudly displayed a burly, zonked out marine cuddling a chubby toddler to his chest, t-shirt covered in a rainbow of paint, crayon and some signs of what looked like a lamb casserole with mashed potato. "Mio Dio…"
Shepard let her hand slip from where she had been muffling her chuckles. “Tell you something, Vega - the blue hand-print on your cheek and tips to your hair? That’s a good look for you.”
His head falling back with a sigh, Vega muttered something unintelligible before fixing his friends with a glare. “This is a one time thing - kid got more energy than a horde o’ Husks…an’ least those I could shoot!”
His tone said he meant it. His eyes appeared stony. But as Kaidan moved to scoop the boy up, five tiny fingers curled tighter into his shirt and a sleepy voice muttered, “Un’ Jayjay…” before David instinctively turned away to snuggle into his fathers’ arms. Shepard caught the look her favourite idiot gave her son.
"So," She began, handing over a packet of cleaning wipes. "Finger painting, huh? Glad you’re broadening your horizons, marine."
Vegas’ lips slowly curved into a somewhat bashful smile as he scrubbed at the mark on his face, finger momentarily lingering. He’d never admit it to the Major or Lola but maybe this babysitting thing wasn’t that bad after all.