This is actually kind of embarassing.

Or at least it would be, if my username wasnt ROBOTURBOT5000 and i cared about e-cred.

Reports, reports, endless reports. Sometimes, she thought that the only crewmember who spent more time typing up reports was Miranda. Yeoman Chambers sighed and leaned back in her chair, tossing the datapad stylus on her desk dejectedly. At least Operative Lawson got to send her reports off to impress others. Kelly's diligent secretarial activities just went into her own folders and back through her mind as she struggled to stay on top of the Normandy's crew.

"Heeheee… on top." She cracked a smile. It must be time to turn in for the night, if such simple double entendres were making her giggle.

The door alert bleeped softly, then two thuds rang out. Kelly got up and stepped over, curious as to who would call at this hour. The Commander, Miranda and others never knocked, and Grunt would've accidentally knocked it down, so that left-

"Chambers", came a muffled female voice, "we gotta talk. You there, Chambers?"

Jack.

Kelly stiffened, hands balling into fists. She should've been expecting this visit after… that night, but it still caught her off guard. She considered saying nothing, freezing, hoping the scary tattooed lady would just go away, but it wasn't right, wasn't fair to the crew. Jack had been there when they pulled her from the Collectors' rendering vats. She sucked in a breath, and pressed the 'open' button.

Jack was standing there, looking both bored and fidgety, with a set of baggy cutoff cargo pants and a loose cotton shirt slashed all the way to the navel and tied up with… were those pipe clamps? She folded her hands across her chest in the universal display of petulance. "Commander Shepard said I need to 'interact more positively with the crew' so… here I am. C'n I come in?" Kelly nodded and Jack pushed gently past her to stand in the doorway, half-feigning interest in Kelly's quarters. "I guess you're smart enough to figure out why I'm here."

"I have a good idea," Kelly said softly.

"Well look, no sense in babbling about with a whole shit-galaxy of words. I know last night I did something seriously wrong, and I'm sorry. Sorry for what I did, and for wrecking your night." She held out one tattooed hand and forced herself into a weird half-smile, half-grimace. Kelly accepted the handshake diplomatically.

"It's okay, no harm done. And it was two nights ago", Kelly paused. Part of her assignment, the most important part, was to get to understand the individual members of Shepard's crew and ensure their personal and interpersonal lives didn't interfere with the mission. Social grease, they called her, to make everything run smoothly. Jack was the biggest question mark in her information folders right now, not helped by Kelly's own timidity around the ex-con. It couldn't hurt if she took advantage of this goodwill to- "Jack, would you like something to drink? I was just done my work for the day and I'm thirsty." She motioned over towards her small countertop coffee set, the little miracle machine that got her through many a late night.

"Huh? Oh, weak stuff." Jack referred to everything that wasn't at least twenty proof as 'weak'. "Yeah sure, can't make me any more insomniac than I already am." Kelly offered her a chair, watching her movements covertly as the lithe woman stalked over to it and flopped down. Not an ounce of trepidation in any of them. She doesn't rent, she owns, the Yeoman thought.

Jack was picking at her teeth nonchalantly, shoes kicked off and bare feet up on Kelly's coffee table. Kelly withdrew the two mugs from the machine and carefully slid over to the chair opposite her guest, noting how clumsy her own movements seemed. Kelly forgot to blow on her coffee enough and ended up fanning her poor tongue with her hand while Jack chuckled. That woman never laughs at anything remotely happy.

"Thanks for not ratting me out, too," Jack said between slugs of beverage. "I think I'm already on notice for showing up back here so damn drunk. Last thing Shepard wants to hear is that I grabbed his yeoman by the ass and tried to stick-"

"WELL I didn't think it needed the Commander's attention." Kelly tried to avoid looking flushed over remembering the sudden drunk molestation by a hardened criminal. Well, former criminal, anyway.

"The part about getting extremely fuckin' shitfaced and going to a dyke bar, or the part where you were sober and still went along?" Jack cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

"It's just a nice place!" Kelly protested. "It has nice drinks and nice lighting and-"

"And nice tits on the asari behind the bar." Jack made a suggestive wiggling motion with her tongue. "She was very into you. Should've listened to her about the ryncol; that Krogan booze is fuckin' rough. I didn't have that much. I don't remember having that much, right? Shit just goes right to your brain. That 'ground glass' line aint' bullshit."

Kelly had found the stench of Jack's drinks enough to sober her up from the few light mixers she had had. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to actually consume it. "Yes, it certainly seemed… very potent."

"And you know, it's hard enough when I'm sober, adapting. I'm used to hanging around a different kinda people. People that don't say no." She cocked her head and stared very intently at the yeoman, a little morose. "Sorry it happened to be you."

"It's okay, Jack", Kelly reassured her. "You've come so far since you first joined this crew. Just coming forward like this is something you should be so proud of, and I hope we can continue to build our professional relationship." She wrinkled her nose. "Maybe next time, build it in a place that doesn't serve ryncol."

Jack rubbed at her neck, looking irritated. "Listen Chambers, I'm learning to play nice-nice for the Commander. I'll sit next to you guys an' eat and pretend like we're one big fuckin' happy family. NEVER gonna really be that way though. I respect you 'cause you're with Shepard; I really don't give a flyin' fuck about this whole 'go team go' bullshit. Specially not with that shitty big-titty cheerleader." She noticed the yeoman's hurt expression and softened a bit. "Don't fuckin cry, Chambers. You don't want too much of me in your life. My problems are… infectious." Her other hand went up to her other shoulder and the frown returned. "Ah, gaddamit."

They weren't very surprising words from the former convict, but disheartening nonetheless. Kelly sighed inwardly, wondering if there was ever going to be more than the Shepard connection between her and Jack. The woman was intimidating, but there was so much humanity behind her. The one person on the Normandy who genuinely needed assistance was the only person who pushed the councillor away. Well, Grunt too, but he was just plain scary.

She noticed Jack's neck rubbing and thought, damn it, if medical referrals are all I can help her with, so be it. "Is your neck okay, Operative?" she asked gently. "I could call the doctor…"

"Hell naw. I just slept on it funny. Only a big baby cheerleader goes cryin' to the doctor over her hurt widdle shouldies. 'Sides, I've had enough of doctors in my life. I'll go when I lose more than two limbs." Jack hung her head and sneered at her own discomfort. "Shit, hurts worse than some of the really tiny-ass stabs I got."

Kelly reached her hands out, without even thinking, and laid them on Jack's shoulders. It was such a natural thing for her to do, comfort others, but Jack pulled back suddenly, confusion in her face. Kelly half-withdrew in surprise. "Whatcha doin?" Jack demanded.

"Sorry. I'm not a medical professional, but I did take a number of courses in massage and stress relief. I just thought maybe… it would make you feel better."

Jack screwed up her face in thought. "How much?"

"What?" Kelly was taken aback. "N-nothing! As your Yeoman, it's my duty to help wherever I can in- "

"You know what they call someone who touches other people for free? A fuckin' pervert."

Yeoman Chambers finally frowned. "Don't be rude, if you don't want one, just- " but was cut off by Jack abruptly turning on the couch so that she was leaning against the back, her shirt's wide neck pulled down just around her shoulders. A topography of ink and scars spread up to her scalp on the exposed skin.

"I'm a real cheap gal. Free sounds good."

Kelly sat down beside her and started her work with no small amount of nervousness. It seemed normal to expect the tattooed skin to feel different somehow, but it was remarkably soft and supple, for a warrior. Beneath, Jack's muscles hardened from years of heavy use gave up the location of some tangled knots. There was no scarring or bruising (that she could see through the ink, anyways) so Kelly set to the task of gently kneading out the tender balls. Jack sank down onto folded arms and murmured softly at the wall. As Kelly continued on up into her neck strap muscles and the base of her skull, Jack's increasing slump indicated she was definitely starting to feel good.

But not quite as good as Kelly.

It might be a trifling secret to most but Yeoman Chambers prided herself on her professionalism and would never, ever let it slip to the crew that she loved skin more than a fat Volus loved cake. She loved the feel of it, the elasticity and resistance, the colour of it, the smell of it after a shower. She loved the variety within her own species and the exotic hides of the Citadel races, alive of course. Hours could be spent circling a particular mole with a finger or exploring the exact geometry of her jawline, and when she was feeling particularly… frustrated, she could spend hours in the shower or on her bed wearing nothing but an expression of delight, tracing paths up and down her bare flesh and wishing with all her might it was someone else's hands, and someone else's skin. For now, though, all she had was the occasional massage for a weary crewmember, and having the lean figure of Jack on her own couch with her one-of-a-kid epidermis was just wonderful.

Nimble hands dipped further down the neckline of Jacks' shirt as Kelly pushed her professional endeavour as far as she dared without crossing the line. Jack was very tense, a minefield of knots, and it wouldn't hurt to get this little part of her tension-free. She ghosted her fingertips lightly up and down the ex-con's neck: repeated the stroke with as much pressure as she gauged her subject could take. Soft and hard sweeps, slow knuckle pressures and palm frictions went all over Jack's shoulders, neck and head; Kelly leaned over and hit the 'recline' mode on her couch, and it smoothly folded into a bed to allow her to better get at Jack. The tattooed biotic offered only muttered grumbles as Kelly eased her shirt up over her head and inhaled quietly at what she saw. There wasn't an ounce of extra fat on Jack, and yet no bones poked rudely out. An incredibly complex map of tattoos and scars spread from the cusp of her slim hips to her waspish waist and further to toned shoulders and down graceful upper arms. Kelly noticed Jack was (typically) bra-less and swallowed at the thought of what treasures lay on the other side. She left Jack fiddling with a datapad and retrieved a canister of thermochemical gel from her bathroom. When she started the massage again, there was a little extra energy in her motions.

Jack's behaviour changed too. She began to verbalize more, little curses not aimed at anyone in particular. Her head lolled from side to side, back arched and curved and hips rolled in slow-motion response to Kelly's attentions. She must have never been touched like this, the yeoman reasoned, with her past history and acquaintances. It's sad, really; she's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Jack exhaled suddenly and gave a little purr as thumbs pressed firmly and gently into the space between each rib, and Kelly's inhibitions faltered just a little bit more.

"Mmmffh! Ohh this is a hella nice ride. Kelly, please tell me you get every man you want with this shit. " Jack's voice slurred. "You are too good at it."

Squirming a little bit, Kelly replied, "I'm fine with just me and my duties for now." It sounded weak, and Jack mumbled something uncouth about what a woman really needed to busy herself with. Her skin was taking on a shine from the moisturizing gel, dropping highlights across the smooth terrain of muscle and sinew. She snuck in a stroke here and there along the line of a tattoo or scar, noticed Jack didn't budge and inch, and went further. Soon she was openly tracing out the patterns of life and death etched into the other woman's body, pretending her hands were shaping them, giving them more wholesome meanings. All she had to do was ask if Jack wanted her legs done and pants were flying across the room. Jack was wearing underwear that looked more like cargo restraints than a woman's delicates. Kelly felt her face flush more and kept furtively stealing glances at the perfect little round buns above her work area on Jack's legs. The room was a cozy temperature yet it felt like a million degrees, and she tugged the zipper on her shirt lower and rolled her pant legs up. As she moved around to get at all areas of the tattooed beauty, her legs brushed against bare skin, and the excitement and gel only heated her up more. Absentmindedly, she leaned her weight into Jack as her hands played down the slender woman's ribcage, fingertips slipping around her front. Her slow swaying motions, the heat of their proximity and the tiredness of a long day dulled Kelly's mind to the point where she didn't realize what she was really doing. She shifted down her subject's legs and put deep pressure all along her legs, thighs, right over her butt to her shoulders; Jack squirmed and sighed. Kelly pushed her fingertips into the crevasses of Jacks' thighs and buttocks, feeding off the moans and driving herself to go further, push the boundary between this massage and… something else.

When Jack suddenly bucked beneath her, she was jolted back to full consciousness. She nearly fell off the couch as the powerful form turned beneath her, wriggling and shifting onto her back but never pushing the yeoman away. Kelly stared down at Jack's naked figure, arms stretched over her head and her train of thought pitched right off the tracks and exploded. "I… abuhwwwahhh..."