( shepard is used to the way tony kisses by now, and the talent embedded in his tongue and cheek, the way his coarse beard feels on her chin. she knows she likes it, though she new that after the first kiss all the same, when tony tasted half like life and half like smoke of a burning forest. she likes the look of polished boots and fair skin as much as she likes their foils, but at the end of the day, the two of them are soldiers. their teeth don't stay clean for too long.

tony might think this suit fits him, born and raised in name brands and expensive materials, but shepard likes to think she sees through that. metal is practically their skin at this point - tony seems almost naked without it. so does she.

the patterns are all the same - her soft mouth on his, a careful hum in the back of her throat, her fingers digging into the sharp lines of his haircut at the nape of his neck. it's common place, comfortable. it's how she imagines it when she thinks about kissing him in between firearm practice, or when they're working on some machinery, biotics, technology. his beard is always rough and soft together, and his tongue always tastes the same, clever and whiskey dry. )

Are you explaining the Big Bang? ( half her mouth curves, a crooked smile formed as she follows his steps. she doesn't have any problem getting out of here, despite espionage and the greater good, because standing around and dancing isn't going to do any good. one of her crewmates would make a joke about her coming in here guns blazing, but none of them are around to voice it. ) Sure, we have our theories. I think at a certain point, we'd advanced far and wide enough that we stopped questioning where we came from, and started looking towards where we were going. Speaking of.

( she pulls her coat on swiftly, not to skip a beat in wrapping a hand around the lapel of tony's suit jacket and giving it a short pull, strong enough to tug him in for another kiss, swifter but sloppier, more energetic in nature.)

Where are we going, Tony?