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Chapter Text

The smell of tortured coffee beans fills every orifice of Jack’s body as she steps foot into the communal kitchen. Acidity stabs Jack in the eyes as a gust of burnt coffee hugs her. For the third time today, she catches Miranda burning the living hell out of her coffee. 

She could ignore it, walk to the elevator, and go back to her part of the ship. She could torment Miranda relentlessly; the perfect princess isn’t so perfect after all. Sadly, her poor, harassed nostrils beg to help this walking coffee disaster. She shoves her way up to Miranda.

“Get out of my way and let me show you how to make a perfect coffee.”

“Jack, please— ”

Jack bumps Miranda away from the stove with her hip, takes the boiler off of the burner, and dangles it in Miranda’s face. “Instant coffee was already bad enough, but burning instant coffee? I don’t understand why Shepard hasn’t already marked you as a traitor and spaced you.” Jack takes a whiff of the pot only to be overwhelmed by the bitterness and acidity. Gagging, she throws the pot into the sink. 

The noise of metal on metal echoes. Coffee flies all over the backsplash as the contact between the pot and the sink propulses its lid in a random direction. Miranda is clearly irritated by the idea of delaying her evening coffee, much to Jack’s delight. She’s already muttering about how the Collectors are not wasting a single second in their quest to destroy humanity, how she can’t afford to go a second more without caffeine and how humanity depends on it. Standard pretentiousness from the Cheerleader.

Miranda regains her spot in front of the stove, shoving Jack aside in the process. “I don’t have time to play. Some of us are busy working.” She starts looking around for the instant coffee, hesitates, and huffs, “And there’s nothing wrong with a quick coffee!” as she pulls it from the cupboard.

“The bag of coffee is a perfectly reliable, standard-issue Cerberus coffee. Sure, it’s a little bit stale. And sure, it tastes a little bit like mothballs, but at the end of the day, it is coffee. Perfectly acceptable coffee.” Miranda tries to convince Jack. She doesn’t even have time to turn around before Jack steals the bag. 

“Listen up, Cheerleader. You may think you’re all fancy because you drink Carburner Soliloquy, but you make the world’s worst coffee. My nose is currently talking to its lawyer for attempted murder as we speak.” She basketball shoots the coffee bag straight into the trash can and celebrates with a fist pump. If Jack notices that Miranda spent a second too much reflexively appreciating her biceps as she celebrated, she doesn’t show it.

Miranda rolls her eyes. “It’s a Cabernet Sauvignon .” 

“ Cabinet Medication .”

“Make fun of it all you want, Jack. I still have some bottles in my room, we’ll open one tonight,” Miranda proposes. The insinuated suggestion lays heavy between them.

Jack decides that she doesn’t hate this. She really, really doesn’t hate this.

“What makes you so confident that I’ll come?” Jack asks.

“I’m a confident woman.”

A small silence makes itself present and Jack, shaken by her new realization, takes advantage of it to move on.

She opens a small cupboard and pulls out a moka pot, a grinder, and a bag of fresh coffee beans. She grins deviously and approaches Miranda at the stove. Jack notices that Miranda’s perfume is a delicious mix of cypress and incense. She takes an extra second to indulge in the smell. If Miranda notices that Jack is appreciating her perfume for a second longer than acceptable, she just chalks it up to being surrounded by sweaty men all day. 

“Smell this,” Jack says as she waves the open bag of whole beans in Miranda’s direction. 

The communal kitchen is immediately invaded by the smell of the fresh coffee beans. The first thing that hits her are the rich notes of wood, followed by subtle chocolatey and fruity undertones. Perfectly reliable, fresh, unmothballesque coffee. Real fucking coffee. Before Miranda can even open her mouth to ask Jack how she could afford something that smelled so expensive, Jack snakes a soft, warm arm around her waist.

“Now, this is real coffee. I got it fresh in Tuchanka a few days ago.” She squeezes Miranda’s side, nails playfully digging in. Miranda bites her lip teasingly before seating herself on the counter top. Her back follows the curve of Jack’s body, and Jack has to fight the blush that threatens to creep up her neck. “Ok, Jack, show me.”

Jack stares at her.

Miranda leans in.

“What are you waiting for? Varren’s got your tongue,” she taunts. Her hand trots up Jack’s body until she reaches the bag of coffee and takes it for herself.

Jack’s breath quickens.

“First—”

“Jack, Miranda.” At the sound of Shepard’s boots, the pair scramble apart. Miranda takes the opportunity to step on Jack’s foot as she gets off the counter and Jack flicks her on the shoulder as she withdraws her arm from where it was wrapped a little too snugly around Miranda’s waist.

“Meeting in 10 minutes. EDI’s spotted something on her radar.” Shepard marches in, oblivious. 

“I’ll be there,” they both say in unison. 

As Shepard leaves, both women look at each other, suddenly sobered by the unexpected guest. Miranda barely deigns a look towards Jack before she departs, caffeine cravings apparently forgotten.

Jack kicks the cupboard, swearing, before pulling out a precision scale and a spoon to scoop out her coffee beans.

Chapter Text

“EDI, can you give us a rundown of what happened?” Shepard asks.

The room feels heavy. It’s exceedingly rare for the group to all be together in a meeting. The urgency of the situation and the complete lack of personal space work together to increase everyone’s stress by an extra level.

The meeting room is full to the brim. Samara, Joker, and Garrus sit on the left. On the right, Jacob, Kasumi, Grunt, and Tali sit, squeezed for space. Zaeed, Mordin, Thane, and Jack stand in the back. Shepard sits at the head of the table.

Jack is carefully cradling a fresh cup of coffee. The smell of fresh coffee permeates every corner of the meeting room. It provides a level of comfort and coziness seldom found in a situation this tense. 

Before EDI can answer, everyone grows silent as the sound of determined (not rushed, never) footsteps bursts through the meeting door. Miranda strides in, confidently making eye contact with whoever is willing to judge her late entrance. She stares intently at Jack, or rather, at Jack’s cup, as she makes her way to her designated seat at Shepard’s right. 

With every step, every whiff of coffee, Miranda’s need for caffeine grows. She’s desperate for it and annoyed that Jack wasted hers. She’s the main reason everyone is still alive. She’s the main reason they even stand a chance against the Collector. She deserves a cup of coffee. She deserves Jack’s cup of coffee. Determined to get what is rightfully hers, she nonchalantly trails her hand along Jack’s arm before poaching the cup from Jack’s soft, carefully manicured hand. Mid sip. 

Jack makes a strangled, surprised noise before she takes a step forward. Miranda isn’t sure if Jack is turned on or determined to take back her cup. Miranda surprises herself hoping it’s a little bit of both. 

“Miranda, I’m going to fucking kill you,” she spits venomously, but she’s already half a second too late and Miranda’s out of reach with her prize and taking a slow, indulgent victory sip.

Shepard levels them both with a warning stare. Jack, standing in front of Miranda, flips her off and sinks back against the wall. Miranda accepts the warning silently as she squeezes in next to Samara and takes another sip of the coffee. It’s decidedly less bitter and significantly less scalded than her usual fare. 

The minute she determines that everyone’s attention is back to Shepard, she winks at Jack and smirks. She’s pretty sure that she can see the steam coming out of Jack’s ears in response.

The meeting resumes. Kasumi constantly looks at Miranda, eyes narrowed and fishing for clues. Miranda refuses to make eye contact with her. Instead, her gaze gravitates towards Jack. 

For the first time, Miranda notices how beautiful Jack is. Her eyebrows are beautifully arched. Her long eyelashes pair perfectly with her deep, secretive eyes. Her jaw is so perfectly chiseled that Miranda would not have been surprised if she discovered that Jack had also been genetically engineered. 

Despite all of this, Jack’s clothes are what mesmerize Miranda. This is the first time that she’s seen Jack wearing an actual shirt. The tight collar emphasizes the tantalizing dip of Jack’s neck. The rolled sleeves highlight her triceps, skin wound tight over her muscles. Miranda feels her cheeks heat at the memory of Jack’s arm wrapped around her waist earlier in the day. 

She shuts down the thought immediately. If dating Shepard had been a mistake, entertaining any kind of relationship with Jack was a definite death sentence. Especially since, just this morning, she couldn’t even fathom saying good morning to Jack.

Muffled laughs bring Miranda back to reality. It seems that Shepard, once again, mentioned that they should try to recruit Liara for help. And Jack, once again, made a lewd comment about Liara and Shepard which drew eye rolls from the crew and red cheeks from Shepard. Jack grins, proud of herself. Oh , Miranda thinks, Her smile is beautiful .

This newfound attraction confuses her. Instead of thinking about it, she flees to her thoughts about the coffee that she stole. This is the freshest coffee she’s ever had the pleasure to drink. It is more than reliable, it is downright delightful . It does not remind her of mothballs at all. Now this is coffee. Perfectly perfect coffee.

Once the meeting finishes, Miranda is the first to get up. She has a mountain of paperwork waiting for her that seems to double in size every time she blinks. At least she’s ready to tackle it now that she’s got her kick of caffeine. As she brushes past Jack, she feels a pair of eyes boring a hole in her head, but ignores it. Jack can kill her after her paperwork is completed. 

She spends the entire walk to her office in a pocket-sized existential crisis. Miranda Lawson is attracted to Subject Zero ? She assumes there’s a rule against it somewhere in her Cerberus rule book. She’s sure of it, actually. The rule is probably titled something like: “Perfect human beings such as Miranda Lawson are strictly forbidden from feeling any sort of attraction to loud, endearing, tattooed women named Jack.” Or something. 

After an atrocious five minutes of existential crisis, she arrives at her office, studying the rows of pristinely organized stacks on her desk. She notices one stack has been dislodged and realigns it so it’s parallel with the edge of the desk. The minute she sits down, the door explodes open, slightly scattering a few of her papers. 

Jack storms in, furious. 

“Miranda!” Jack barks, either ignorant of her crimes or horribly unbothered.

Miranda looks up from her desk, completely unmoved. She expects Jack to look at her with her habitual hatred, which she is, but there is a little something in the depths of her eyes. Intrigue,  maybe? Lust? Miranda definitely doesn’t know Jack well enough to read through her, but she knows that it’s something that she can take advantage of. Something that Miranda wants to take advantage of.

“This is the second time you’ve called me by my actual name,” she teases, lips twitching into a grin and making zero moves to organize her papers.

Jack sputters, taken aback. 

“Fuck you, Princess!” she spits.

They look at each other. Jack tightens her fists. The contraction of her muscles attracts Miranda’s gaze. She quickly refocuses on her task: destabilizing the enemy.

“Thank you, by the way,” Miranda says.

Jack immediately releases her fists. At first, she seems curious, but apprehension and inner turmoil win her over and she completely shuts Miranda out. “Damn it, stop distracting me!”

“I’m serious. You were right. That coffee you made was amazing.” Jack lips press into a thin line, trying to suppress a smile. Miranda surprises herself wanting to see Jack happy. “I don’t know why I ever bothered with the coffee Cerberus supplied.” 

“Fuck if I know, but you’ve always been attracted to garbage, so it shouldn’t come to a surprise to you.” Jack says, grinning.

Miranda gasps and fakes offense at the jab at her dating past. Everyone on the ship, including Jack, knows what happened with Shepard. Emphasis on past tense. She unceremoniously dumped Miranda the minute they met with Liara on Illium. In front of the entire crew. 

“Why’d you even date Shepard in the first place? You read her profile. You knew what Liara meant to her,” Jack asks.

Miranda takes a minute to think. She, herself, isn’t quite sure why she ever dated Shepard. Initially, the break up hurt, but in retrospect, Miranda thinks that her ego was hurt much more than her heart. Their relationship just never really clicked. They were both lost people trying to fill a void. 

Shepard’s not as funny as Jack. She’s not as fit as Jack. She’s not as adventurous as Jack. Fuck, why am I comparing her to Jack?  

She sighs, unsure if she wants to share her feelings with Jack of all people. “Cabin fever?” she offers lamely.

“Bullshit, Miranda, and we both know it.” Jack grabs a nearby chair and sits in it. Her feet dangle on the side. She stares straight through Miranda’s soul.

“I used to think that I didn’t deserve someone who loved me,” Miranda starts. She’s incredibly self-conscious about opening up to someone, but she feels like she and Jack have broken through a barrier today. That, or she’s feeling uncharacteristically reckless, but Jack had a way of bringing that out of her. “I always found myself going for clearly emotionally unavailable people.” She chuckles. “Like Shepard.”

Jack looks at her attentively and Miranda can’t remember the last time Jack was this quiet. 

“Shepard can bite my ass. You might be a complete princess, but at least now you’re not a complete princess with no taste,” Jack gets back up and starts walking out.

Miranda watches her leave, tongue poking the inside of her cheek as she considers she’s a bit disappointed that Jack isn’t staying. With each of Jack’s steps, she takes in a different part of her silhouette. The dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, the strength in her legs.

“Miranda, stop staring at my ass. Are you coming?”

Miranda pauses for a brief moment, unsure if indulging Jack would be her version of admitting defeat. “Where to?” Miranda asks. She fiddles with her computer mouse. A sudden warmth creeps up her neck.

“You owe me coffee.” Jack leans on the door frame. “Flirting with me sure as hell won’t make me forget.” She’s fidgeting with the paperwork in the entrance of the closet. Miranda’s not sure if it’s out of impatience or nervousness.

“I absolutely do not. You owed me a coffee.” Miranda counters, ignoring the latter half of Jack’s words.

Jack pushes herself off the door frame, a scowl painting her face “Well, I still need my coffee!” And marches back on her way.

Miranda gets up from her desk, barely sparing a thought to her mountains of paperwork, and hurries to catch up to Jack. “You know, if you wanted to ask me out so badly, you could just be honest about it.” She’s not sure where that came from, considering that just one day ago –hell, less than two hours ago– they were sworn enemies. 

Jack tenses up. The muscles in her arms are suddenly more defined than ever. “You wish, Cheerleader! You think I want to date you just because you’ve got a bubble butt and fantastic tits? Screw you!” Her eyes lower.

Miranda knows that she’s not the only one feeling the shift in their relationship.

“Whether you like it or not, Jack,” Jack’s pupils dilate at the sound of her own name, much to Miranda’s delight. “There is something that changed between us and it’s not sisterhood .” She pushes Jack against the wall and traps Jack’s head between both of her arms. She slowly nears Jack. 

Defiance paints Jack’s every motion and she swallows, jaw tense. Her eyes travel lazily, making sure that Miranda is fully aware that she is taking the time to admire every single curve of her body.

Miranda’s nostrils flare. “Now, I wouldn’t mind if it stopped at you admiring my body, but we are two extremely powerful women.” Miranda feels the heat of Jack’s body against her own, aching to press even closer. “Two of the world’s strongest biotics. We deserve better. We deserve someone who puts us first.” 

Miranda brings her face close to Jack’s ear. “I want to put you first,” she whispers.

Jack wrinkles her nose and tears her eyes away from Miranda. A million different emotions cycle through her in a fraction of a second. For the first time in her life, Jack hesitates.

There is a pregnant pause and then Miranda pushes herself off the wall, unwilling to push the matter further. She’s made her move, she’s done the reckless thing, and she can bury herself in paperwork if Jack is too much of a coward to pursue this. Whatever this is.

The silence sustains for a few moments longer. Miranda is looking at Jack, daring her for an answer. Any answer. Jack licks her teeth.

“You’re really serious about this,” Jack says. It’s neither a statement nor a question. 

Warmth suddenly bursts forward from the bottom of Miranda’s stomach. She’s helpless against the hope that is surging forth. She’s slowly realizing that yes, she actually is really serious about this. The last few hours have completely changed her views of Jack. Prior to today, she thought that Jack was an angry little goblin who only found joy in torture and murder. She could not have been more wrong. 

Jack gets closer to Miranda, entering her personal space. “Fine. Let’s give this a try, princess.” She gets closer and closer to Miranda’s face, her lips a breath away from Miranda’s. “And you’re paying for the first date.” She abruptly backs up as Miranda starts to gravitate towards her, a moment away from a kiss.

Miranda catches herself, the determination of a hunter clear. “First date? Are you insinuating that there’s already a second one in the works?” She wraps her arms around Jack’s neck gently locking her into place.

Miranda feels a gentle tug as Jack starts to absently play with the zipper following the curve of her spine. “I’m not going to give it to you out of pity, like the girl you took to prom,” Jack says as she grabs her ass.

Eyes burst out of Miranda’s head. She’s absolutely shocked at the latest turn of events. Not only did Jack insinuate that she’d be open to something more serious between the two, but she wisely followed it up with a scathing burn and a grope. Miranda chuckles to herself, remembering who she’s dealing with.

“I can work with that,” she answers. 

Miranda grabs Jack and kisses her. Her paperwork can wait until later. 

Chapter Text

Jack walks into the crustiest dive bar left on Omega. 

It’s the type of bar that drowns its patrons in shadows to prevent them from seeing that it hasn’t been cleaned since its initial opening. The type of bar that people refer to by its unique characteristic, where the bar’s actual name has been lost to time and neglect. 

In this case, its patrons lovingly call it Hanar’s Tits due to its very biologically creative art piece of a Hanar in a white dress holding the ruffled bottom portion of its dress from flying in the air while emphasizing its rather prominent breasts. If you could call them that.

The moment Jack crosses through the front door, her senses are all on overload. Her sixth sense is on high alert as she notices that every other person in the bar is wearing apparel from the three leading mercenary factions. Her eyes and nose burn from the heavy cloud of smoke sitting low in the premises. 

She approaches the portion of the bar counter with a view on the entrance. Each of her steps offers resistance as her thick-soled boots suction to the beer covered floor. She quickly ties her hair into a bun as she can feel grease and cigarette smell sticking to it. She stands at the bar counter, unwilling to risk sitting on the vinyl stools. The constant sound of billiard balls colliding, her only accompanying music. 

She flags down the barman and orders a drink. He nods and passes her a small napkin while he prepares her order. Within seconds, she rips the napkin into long strips and inattentively twists them as she repeatedly looks at the entrance. 

The barman, a gruff, scar-covered Turian, puts a glass of caramel coloured alcohol on the counter in front of her. It’s nothing fancy, just a regular glass of whisky. As she grabs the glass to take her first sip, the hottest woman Jack has ever seen crosses the entryway. 

And Jack is unable to fight against the magnetism of her presence.

She’s wearing a black leather vest, strategically unzipped just enough to attract eyes away from her face. Her long black hair and gentle features are partially hidden by the cap on her head, but her bright blue eyes are like lasers focused on Jack. She bites her lip in anticipation as recognition flares in Jack’s eyes and she confidently makes her way towards the bar.

All heads turn to see the stranger who dared intrude on their territory. Some patiently observe her, calculating if she’s a risk. Others immediately dismiss her and focus on their game of billiards. One young human approaches her, trying to hunt what they perceive as prey, but they quickly scramble away, terrified, after the woman grabs them by the collar, whispers something that Jack doesn’t hear, and pushes them off.

The woman then pulls out a tissue from their back pocket, wipes the stool next to Jack, and sits. The two women share a moment of silence. The woman grabs Jack’s glass and takes a sip of her drink. Jack lets her.

“Hello Jack,” the woman says.

A feeling somewhere between yearning and dread blooms in Jack’s stomach. This voice is the direct cause of half of Jack’s biggest nightmares and biggest dreams. It reminds Jack of all of the highest highs and lowest lows of the past 4 years. Their first kiss during the fight against the Collectors. Their breakup when she left for Grissom academy and Miranda was dead set on hunting all surviving Cerberus personnel. The first time they had hate sex when they ran into each other shortly after defeating the Reapers, which was also the first time Jack said “I love you.” By accident.

Jack grabs her glass back, keeping it close to her chest. “You’re fucking late, Cheerleader.”

Miranda ignores the comment, busy flagging down the barman. He promptly brings her a beer.

Jack takes the moment to appreciate Miranda’s side profile as she grabs the bottle. She can feel the hairs on Miranda’s neck straighten as she slowly, slowly undresses Miranda with her eyes. Jack hasn’t seen her in seven months, but Miranda is still, and she’s slowly starting to admit to herself, will always be the most beautiful woman she’s ever laid her eyes on.

The tension between them creates a bubble shielding them from their surroundings. She feels like she’s right back where everything started, just the two of them in the Normandy’s kitchen, teaching Miranda how to brew some decent ass coffee. Heat rushes through her body, her heart swells. 

Jack leans her arm on the counter, pushing the twisted napkin bits to the side. “Why did you tell me to meet you here?”

Miranda takes the first sip of her drink. A long, slow gulp that emphasizes the muscles in her neck. It’s not habitual of her to stall a conversation. She’s nervous.

“I’m done,” Miranda offers. Miranda turns her entire body towards Jack. She makes eye contact with Jack for the first time since sitting down. “Cerberus is gone. I can move on.” 

Cerberus is gone. It’s over. Everything is finally over. The war is actually, actually over. Jack backs up, scratching the counter with her nails as she takes in all of the information insinuated in those three small words.

“Fuck,” she exhales, relieved. She hadn’t noticed that she had been holding her breath for two whole years.

Miranda nods in agreement, gaze fuzzy before refocusing suddenly on Jack. “I want you back,” she blurts out, uncharacteristically. She holds eye contact, begging Jack for a reaction.

Jack freezes, armed with a scowl.

When she first got the message from Miranda, she figured that she just wanted some information for her mission. Maybe, if she was lucky, a quick session in the toilets. Miranda had the habit of disappearing for a few months and then randomly re-appearing whenever she needed a favour. Usually, those favours were related to Cerberus. Sometimes, they were sexual in nature. Once, all she wanted was a warm, home-made meal. 

Never, in a thousand years, did Jack think that Miranda still wanted to be with her. She never answered when Jack accidentally professed her love all that time ago. She just squeezed Jack’s hand and got dressed. She never deemed Jack important enough to keep her up to date on her mission. She hadn’t even said goodbye when she broke up with Jack.

The light bulb above Jack flashes momentarily, pulling her out of her stupor. Years of anger, worry, and every emotion in between pool to her face, flushing it in red. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she spits.

“Jack—”

“No, Miranda, screw you. You dumped me and I hated you for it. You initiated fucking again, only to ghost me when it was inconvenient.” Jack turns around, unable to face Miranda anymore. The idea of being near her was starting to become nauseating. 

She downs the rest of her glass and slams it on the counter. The sound attracts the attention of nearby patrons. “You’re the only person in this goddamn world that I ever trusted and you just came and went without a single fuck about my feelings. What the fuck , Miranda?”

She gets up abruptly, disgusted by the need and hope building at the pit of her stomach. She thought that she was over Miranda. The last time they’d slept together, she hadn’t even felt the urge to punch a wall when she realized that Miranda had left without saying goodbye. Again.

But all she really wants is to grab Miranda and kiss her.

Miranda, after years of living in the shadows playing cat and mouse with Cerberus, is not one to make a scene. She lets Jack go, ordering another drink instead.

Jack can’t convince herself to leave. Instead, she goes to pee. The washroom is in surprisingly good condition. It’s only got a single, flashing bulb illuminating it, but it might be for the better. Blissful ignorance Jack tells herself. It doesn’t smell like vomit, nor does the floor stick. Each stall has a seat AND toilet paper. The doors to each stall even close properly. Hell, it’s better than half of the washrooms at Grissom Academy.

It is quiet. Her only company is the muffled sound of billiards and the staggered electrical hum feeding the light fixture.

She kicks the trash can, grabs the single sink, and looks at herself in the mirror. Unshed tears of anger are leaving red rings around her eyes. Her chest moves up and down, mirroring her deep breaths. Now that she’s left the magnetic field that is Miranda Lawson’s presence, she can breathe. She can finally think clearly.

The cheerleader wants her back.

On one side, she can understand why. Jack is a hot piece of ass only getting finer with age. She’s amazing in bed. She’s funny. She’s a great cook. She can even pair a fancy wine with her meal… Which Miranda taught her how to do when they first started dating. 

On the other side, why the fuck is Miranda bringing this up now. 

She dumped Jack. 

Miranda actually refused to let go when they were hugging goodbye. Jack was going to Grissom Academy and Miranda needed to take down whatever remained of Cerberus to be able to sleep at night. Their lives were taking two different paths.

She used Jack. 

Miranda couldn’t stay anywhere longer than a few hours without putting others at risk of being killed by Cerberus. When they did sleep together, Miranda always made sure that Jack was properly tucked in bed before leaving. Sometimes, Jack even woke up to the smell of a freshly brewed coffee at her side.

She ghosted Jack. 

Miranda actually apologized every time she popped back into her life. She could rarely risk making phone calls, but she always mysteriously knew about all of the highlights in Jack’s life. She even poked fun at Jack’s new haircut.

Fuck, I’m so fucking stupid , Jack thinks.

Hundreds and hundreds of similar moments are washing over Jack’s memory. In every single one of them, Miranda made sure that Jack felt comfortable; felt at home. Because Miranda was home. 

She walks towards the toilet stall and abruptly stops, going back to the sink. She unties her hair only to immediately retie it. Memories are hitting her like a typhoon and she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

She remembers all of the times she tried to teach Miranda to cook, only for the kitchen to get locked down because Miranda accidentally created a tomato rocket. She remembers Miranda’s worry every time Jack went out on a mission with Shepard. She remembers the day Shepard summoned them for a meeting after the crew accidentally learnt that they were dating. Shepard said something about professionalism and using the proper channels. The details were fuzzy; Jack was busy hatching a plan to murder whoever had snitched on them.

She remembers everything that happened after they broke up. There was hurt and heartbreak, yes, but Miranda always made the point of calling her or meeting with her when she was able to. Jack would wake up to unexpected medication deliveries the morning after answering Miranda’s calls with a congested nose. She’d also sometimes wake up to hand written letters with titles such as Things This Week That Reminded Me Of You . They’d always start off sweet and end on the cheekier side.

Jack grabs her face in contempt. She’s never found herself lovable, but she knows someone who does, because Miranda hadn’t spent the last two years using her like a dirty rag. Miranda had loved her this entire time. Miranda still loves her. 

Jack washes her hands. Cleansing off all of the misguiding hurt and betrayal she’d felt since they broke up. She shakes them, expelling all of the pent up aggression. She looks at herself in the mirror, eyes sharper than they’ve been all day. Her makeup is still pristine despite the tears. 

The washroom door slams against the wall as Jack crashes through it. She sighs in relief. Miranda is still at the bar, nursing a drink.

“How the fuck did you manage to find red wine in this dump?” Jack asks, officially announcing her presence at Miranda’s left.

Miranda sharply turns around. Her features are painted with relief. The tension between them is different than before Jack’s bathroom meltdown. It’s all playful flirting now.

“You came back,” Miranda exhales, lingering notes of nervosity heavy in the shake of her voice. Her fingers drum at the base of her wine cup.

Despite Miranda’s apparent nervousness, Jack notices the hunger in Miranda’s eyes. She notices the way they meticulously take in all of her features and starve for more. They make eye contact. Miranda plays with the zip of her leather jacket, lowering it teasingly. Jack’s brain shuts down momentarily. 

She focuses, determined to settle this once and for all.

“Of course I came back, Princess. I just remembered that you have a Cabaret Sabbatical in your room that you promised me four years ago,” Jack looks at Miranda with a grin, fishing for a reaction.

Miranda sighs, rolling her eyes lovingly. 

“I think that can be arranged.” Miranda winks at Jack, takes a moment to look at her, and reaches out to fix Jack’s shirt. Her hand grazes Jack’s hip gently, causing goosebumps on her skin.

Jack squeezes herself into Miranda’s personal space and flags down the barman. She takes advantage of the proximity to brush her right hand along Miranda’s waist all the way down to the curve of her left thigh. 

“I need to pay for the tab. Put my wife’s drinks on it,” she tells him.

Miranda’s eyes immediately open wide and her nostrils flair. Jack has never seen her face this red before. Or at least, she’s never seen her face this red in a good way before. Jack looks at her innocently as Miranda regains her senses and raises her eyebrow.

“What? You and I both know this is it. Might as well get the tax benefits,” Jack offers nonchalantly. 

Miranda laughs, exasperated, and grabs her hand, dragging her towards the promised Carburner Soliloquy.