Resta Con Me - 4

Around 0345 hunger roused Russell enough to make him venture to the ominous third floor. He'd tried to harangue Garrus into meeting him at the elevator with food so he wouldn't have to set foot on the deck, but the turian claimed to be otherwise occupied.

He crept slowly past Life Support, holding his breath. Thane always seemed to sense his presence when he was on the deck. Russell had no idea why(though his money was on some extrasensory drell perception)or how, so he tried to cover all his bases.

He ambled down into the mess hall barefoot, wearing his most comfortable sweats with the hole in the right thigh. Since he'd retreated into himself he'd hadn't changed a stitch of clothing. He looked terrible but probably smelled worse.

As he ventured further into the dimmed canteen, he noticed a figure standing in the far corner near the coffeemaker. He could only think of one other soul who might be up, but he hoped it wasn't—

"Russell?" Thane's voice rippled across the darkened canteen and the human visibly flinched. Too late to turn back, he strode over to the counter as nonchalantly as he could, and tried to keep his eyes to himself. Thane had prepared for bed and shed his usual leather get up in favor of something more comfortable. With loose fitting pants, bare chest, bare feet, and a mug in hand, the drell looked startling at home in the military grade kitchen. It was a wonder his feet didn't freeze. Thane greeted him with a curt nod. "I didn't expect anyone else to be up at this hour."

"I could say the same." Russell stuck his head in the fridge as much to compose himself as to find what he'd come down here for. His plans to scurry back up to his loft with his plate of cold food flitted away as obligation reared its ugly head. He found the plate, hidden behind a bunch of ingredients that all looked alien to him and grabbed a pouch of juice while he was at it.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asked, watching Thane from the corner of his eye as he shoved the plate in the microwave.

"A bit. I don't sleep much to begin with, but tonight I had some difficulty." Thane put a hand over the center of his chest.

"I'm guessing that tea's medicinal then?" The dark brown substance in the drell's mug didn't look the faintest bit appealing. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of it. It was earthy, as if someone had put a handful of soil in a cup.

Thane nodded. "And it doesn't taste very good, I'm afraid. Otherwise, I would have offered."

"S'alright. I'm not really much of a tea drinker, anyway." Russell slurped his juice, earning him a raised brow plate.

"Somehow I had a feeling." Thane gripped the mug with both hands, looking down into the dark liquid pensively. "Why might you be roaming about at this hour?"

"Catching up on some work." He shrugged. "You know how it is."

"Might this be at Operative Lawson's insistence?"

"It might." It didn't surprise Russell that Thane knew about his burden. Heck, maybe everyone knew. Then again, maybe he had some sort of secret covenant with Miranda, too. Russell didn't know anymore.

"Well. I won't keep you from your work..." The drell's voice trailed off and he paused midturn. He cocked his head to the side, staring at Russell as if he'd had an expletive written on his forehead.

"Thane, what—" but before Russell could finish his thought, Thane's hand was in his hair.

Thane smoothed a hand over Russell's head, gently grazing his scalp with his nails. When he reached the slope of Russell's neck, he lingered, long fingers tracing the strong line that lead towards the spectre's shoulders.

As abruptly as he started, he stopped. "I fear it may be time for a haircut."

Russell forced a cough to try and get the blood flowing back into his extremities. "What makes you say that?"

He touched Russell's hair again, ruffling what little there was. Russell shifted from foot to foot, pressing down the urge to take that very hand and hold it to his lips. Thane continued his inspection, oblivious of Russell's discomfort. "It looks uneven and unkempt compared to your usual appearance. Shaggy." He tried the word on for size, and by the look on his face, he didn't care for it. "Of course, you could just be growing it out." Thane sipped from his mug, washing the alien term off his tongue. "But that didn't seem like you."

"I see..." Russell licked his lips. His whole mouth suddenly felt parched.

And as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, the drell bowed and walked off toward his quarters. Russell looked down at the depleted juice pack in his hand; he'd gripped it so tightly the last few droplets dribbled out of the straw and onto his fist. So maybe this moving on wouldn't be as easy as he'd hoped.

"Still haven't told him, huh?" the turian asked once Russell was close enough for a hushed whisper. The spectre fixed him with a hard glare that Garrus readily ignored... If a turian could look smug, Garrus was doing so right now.When did he even get here?

"There's nothing to tell. He doesn't feel the same."

"We both know that's total shit. I saw that little exchange; how he was playing with your fring—er, hair."

"It doesn't have to mean anything." Russell pushed his food around on his plate. It smelled good. Hopefully, it tasted better than it looked; time had reduced it to different colored mounds of mush.

"Again, that's shit. That guy hardly talks to anyone on this boat, let alone feels comfortable enough to touch them."

"He talks to Samara…"

"And I talk to you. That doesn't mean that I wanna—that I'm interested in you that way."

"Doesn't it?"

Garrus looked at him, his mouth agape. "…Is that really how human courting works?"

Russell snickered behind his fist. "For some, but not all." He nudged the turian's leg underneath the table. "I'm just joking with you. Relax. Besides, you're not even my type. Far too pointy."

Garrus puffed his chest in a show of mock indignity. "I'll have you know that 'pointyness' is a desired trait in turians. Very macho."

Russell shook his head as much at himself as at Garrus. When they'd picked Thane up on Illium, Russell found him freaky and offputting. From his large doubled-lidded eyes, to his coloring that reminded him of a boa constrictor, Russell hadn't been interested in him at all. But Fate had a strange sense of humor. Various cleanup missions had forced the pair into close quarters, and when you're with someone nearly every day, it's hard not to pick up a thing or two about them.

Thane and Russell's lives paralleled in a lot of ways. Both had paths thrust on them that, if they'd been able to choose, they might have avoided. He'd never tried to do a tale of the tape on whose lot in life had been worse, but if he had to choose, Thane would have had that honor.

That was the first thing he'd grown to like about Thane. He hadn't had an easy go of it, but he would be the last person to complain. He'd suffered losses that only a few members of the crew could understand, and yet he carried on. It might not have been in the best way, but it could be worse; he could be dead.

That night in Dark Star when Thane had opened himself up and shared his problems for the sake of helping Russell with his own, something changed. Thane had showed him another side, he was approachable, he had flaws, and he could feel. And it made Russell realize he didn't know anything about him at all.

Without realizing it, Russell had started to see the drell differently. He listened to his stories with rapt attention. He found himself in Life Support more than his own quarters, and at some point, he admitted he just liked being around him. It was more than a case of the damaged licking each other's wounds. When he was around Thane, he wanted to be different. He wanted to be better. But he wasn't been sure why.

Despite his baggage, Thane was still poised and in control of himself in a way that Russell envied. And since setting his son on the right path, he'd even become hopeful. He never seemed mired in self-pity, unlike the commander himself. Russell knew he could learn something from him, so he continued to visit and listen.

Russell hadn't come into this with ulterior motives. Sitting Shiva had worked out so far, and he was content to keep it that way until the galaxy was at peace and he could reclaim his life, if he lived that long. But one night, when Thane was recounting a bittersweet memory from his training days, Russell found himself entranced by the way his lips moved. They looked so familiar, so human. He pondered them to the point that he wondered if they even tasted human and things got dicey after that.

"I mean what have you got to lose?" Garrus said, pulling him from his thoughts. "He says he digs you too, and you walk off into the sunset together. Or he declines and you're depressed for a while. You'll eventually bounce back. You always do. Either way, you'll stop fretting over it like some love struck teenager."

"Stuff it, Scarface."

"Is that an order?"

"Don't you have something to take care of?"

"Actually, I don't. Funny thing, we turians sometimes have to eat and sleep. Damn if it's not inefficient, but what can you do?" The turian rose with a languid stretch and headed for the small dextro fridge stocked for him and Tali.

"If he blows me off, I'm going to get drunk and cry all over your shoulder. You'll be a sopping mess," Russell shouted as the turian turned towards the forward battery.

"It would be an improvement!" he shouted over his shoulder, "I at least know how to handle you when you're drunk."

Finally truly lone, Russell ran a hand over the back of his head, resting it at the nape of his neck. His gaze drifted towards life support and he sighed.

Thane was right; he did need a haircut.

~oOo~

Keeping to his word, Russell sat in front of his computer and opened up the messages from Kelly. Still brooding over her thoughtless words, he was determined to use her own advice against her.

The emails looked innocuous enough. Mixed in among the ads offering fixes for Russell supposed sexual dysfunction were a few from Chambers, K, dotted with annoying asterisk and capital letters. Russell opened the first one titled How To Deal With That Coworker That Urks You. His initial annoyance with Kelly abated; she was just trying to do her job, despite how hamfisted her methods might be. One peek couldn't hurt before he threw himself back in the paperwork.

The page that opened when he clicked the link made his mouth run dry. It was rife with pictures of drell that seemed to come in every conceivable color, running the gamut from a dark chocolate brown to jeweled tones of pinks and purples. They were all so unique and stunning that Russell wound up staring at the pictures for nearly a full minute before he read a single word.

He cataloged their differences, committing them to his inferior human memory: Individuals with warmer scale colors were stockier, while those with cooler tones were sleek, like a swimmer. The patterns on their scales varied, as did their eyes colors, lips, noses. They all looked so different, but they were all so… attractive, males and females. He'd never been interested in nonhumans before, but damn if he wasn't becoming a convert. Suddenly, he had an understanding of what asari enthusiast must feel.

This had to be a choice selection, a smattering of exceptional representatives for the sake of the article surely. But the drell in Life Support put them all to shame. Even to his foreign eye, there wasn't a drell among them who had features even remotely close to Thane's and he doubted they could match his wit.

Finally skimming the first few lines of text, Russell wasn't sure what to make of what he found. In drell society, there was no stated stringent concept of sexuality. Like the asari, they were drawn to individuals that piqued their interest for whatever reason. Of course, drell were encouraged to be fruitful and multiply, given their scarce number, but once that was accomplished, they did what they pleased, often subscribing to relationships that had upwards of three members.

His head was spinning. Why had she sent him this? Was he that transparent? He continued to scan the page until a heading caught his eye: Courting rituals and behaviors.

As with humans, courting behaviors can differ between individuals, but there are a few constants. It is not uncommon for a drell to provide theobject of their affection with a gift with deeper meaning. A token received by a drell should never be taken at face value.

The datapad Thane had given him called to Russell from the back of the drawer. He had intended to forget it existed, but in light of this new information, it made sense to give it a cursory look. Hope grew in him, again, even as he tried to temper his excitement with caution. He fished the datapad out and stared at it grudgingly, trying to will the words directly into his brain. He had time to devote to it now; he just hoped he wouldn't regret it.