JACK & MIRANDA LAWSON:

From a Hanahaki AU fic, where Jack and Miranda are on a mission and Miranda has hanahaki disease.

“Go ahead, laugh it up,” Jack spits, her eyes narrowing into slits as she glowers at Miranda. She’s cupping a hand around her shoulder, blood leaking between her fingers and dribbling to the ground. “I can see you laughing, Cerberus bitch,” she seethes, hissing between her teeth as she involuntarily tightens her grip. Her hand is so slick that she nearly loses her hold as she dodges gunfire and ducks behind the nearest wall for cover. “You nearly died on the last mission, and it was only Shepard’s goody-goody morals that saved you. This is a scratch, it won’t even slow me down!”

It is slowing her down, but only because she can feel the bullet lodged deeply inside of her. She applies the barest amount of Medi-Gel, just enough to keep herself from bleeding out, but not so much as to heal her entirely. Damn Shepard for pairing her up with Miranda, of all people! The main crew had been split into teams of two to reclaim a swarm of stranded frigate ships. They’d already defeated the asshole responsible in this vessel and saved the hostages, who’d run for the exit like bats out of hell. As they execute the last rogue pirates in the bowels of the ship, Jack can’t stop herself from needling Miranda, even though the woman is a distraction she can hardly afford — as demonstrated by her newfound bullet wound.

“Please,” Miranda says with a delicate roll of her eyes that makes Jack’s blood thrum. “I’d hardly care if you decide to get yourself killed.” Her voice rasps on each word, and Jack decides she doesn’t care if Miranda is winded or strained or whatever other bullshit she’s trying to pull. “Don’t do me any favors, I — ” She coughs, nearly dropping her machine pistol to clap a hand over her mouth. From the corner of her eye, Jack can see her hacking as she frantically casts a haphazard singularity in a Vorcha’s direction. A bullet whizzes by, clipping her ear and nearly ruining her perfect face. Whatever illness struck her appears to be gone as quickly as it began. Miranda shoots a Batarian slaver right between the eyes as he fails to creep up on her, her eyes blazing in a way that gives Jack chills.

“Fuck! If you get me killed, I’ll ruin you. Don’t you dare — ” Jack half-shouts, half-growls around a fistful of biotics. Three pirates advance on her, trying to box her in, and Jack unleashes a shockwave powerful enough to knock them off their feet. Their arms flail as they shoot upward before they land hard on their backs where they lay splayed, dazed, and disoriented, but out of cover. “Got you bastards now!” Jack crows in triumph, blinking back the sweat from her stinging eyes. She pauses just long enough to aim before shooting a spray of bullets at her targets. Blood splatters paint a constellation across the gray, metal floor, and Jack pants as the last body drops, the heat of satisfied pleasure warming her. Four down, with only a scattered few remaining. Somewhere.

“Don’t kid yourself,” Miranda says snidely, dabbing the corners of her lips before reaching up to wipe a thumb against her nicked ear. Jack can’t help but notice that she’s half turned away, discreetly lowering a fistful of something to her hip before shoving her hand into her skin-tight catsuit’s barely there pocket. Something the size of her thumb escapes her grip, and Jack squints at the vivid splash of purple and black as it flutters to the ground. “I’d put a bullet between your eyes before you can so much as reach for your biotics,” she says tonelessly, like the discussion bores her. It’s enough to redirect Jack’s attention, and her gaze snaps back to Miranda. Condescension wafts off of her in waves, and it’s impossible not to notice how Miranda obviously views herself as above Jack.

“Do it, if you think you think you can survive it,” Jack says, narrowing her eyes at the other woman. She straightens, dropping a hand from her shoulder and flicks a splatter of blood onto a nearby wall. As she prowls over, Jack watches the way Miranda stiffens, how her body coils tightly and she draws a breath like she can’t stand to be near her. Jack can smell her perfume, faint and flowery, as hyperfeminine and beautiful as the rest of her. Jack breathes her in and smiles viciously, sharp as a blade and poised to cut with her words. “Or have your balls shriveled up and retreated back inside you? Don’t tell me the Cerberus cheerleader is all talk — how disappointing. What happened to all of your bravado?”

The giddiness of exaltation courses through Jack and the crack of her machine pistol reloading is Miranda’s reply. She crowds the barrel against the bottom of Jack’s jaw, white-knuckling her grip as she raises a single eyebrow. “Don’t tempt me, Subject Zero. I won’t be the one scrubbing your viscera from the walls.” Jack snorts loudly, inelegantly, because despite Miranda’s flawless delivery, there’s a slight tremor to her fingers. Wrapping her own around Miranda’s, Jack adjusts her grip on the shotgun so it’s not aimed to shoot through her jaw, but more towards her brain. Jack’s fingers tingle where they touch Miranda’s, but she pretends not to notice. The moment stretches out, one breath shared between them, their eyes riveted on one another until Miranda finally falters and shoves Jack away from her so she can turn to cough.

“Pussy,” Jack says, her heart racing as she leers at Miranda. The other woman glances over her shoulder at Jack, her eyes bright and watery from the force of her coughing, but still as distant and cold as is standard. “Why are you even on a mission if you’re this sick? Pathetic.” The answering biotics thrown her way are weak and unfocused, forcing Jack to stumble back a few paces. She ignores the sting of it settling on her skin, the way it rips open her bullet wound again, and laughs as she regains her balance. “You’re a liability. Where’s the fight? The challenge? It wouldn’t even be fun to kill you right now.”

You can find the rest of this fic right here! Enjoy it if you do chose to read it.