They're lying in bed when Kaidan says the thing.
Or at least, Kaidan is lying in bed; Shepard is hunched over a data pad, the blankets clustered loosely around her knees, the planes of her face illuminated by an orange glow. As much as he hates himself for it, Kaidan thinks she's most beautiful when she's like this; pouring her heart and soul into her work, dedicated even in the early hours of the morning, a knot of concentration between her brows. Shepard is always giving, never taking, but as beautiful as this makes her, Kaidan knows it's not healthy. He grunts as he props himself up onto his elbows and shuffles towards his CO. She makes no indication she's heard him.
"Shep," he says around a mouthful of sleep, pressing his lips gently against her knee. "Maybe it's time you get some rest."
It's a few moments before she replies. Her eyes flicker rapidly back and forth, scanning, reading, processing every little bit of data, her fingers gliding across the keys almost mechanically. She doesn't glance at him. "It's alright, Alenko," she mumbles dismissively, her lips in a thin line. "If I get this done now, it gives me time tomorrow."
"For more work?"
She sighs. "It needs to be done."
"Not necessarily by you."
She shoots him a look, and he sits up properly, leaning into her side and pulling the sheets back up to his waist. He feels her ease against him, which he takes as a good sign, and rests his chin on her shoulder, sliding a hand down her arm to tilt the data pad towards him.
"Let me help."
He makes sure she can feel his breath where her ear meets her jaw. Her body shudders and she gives in with a defeated sigh, holding the data pad up to him so he can give it a proper look.
"I need to filter through the Normandy's stats," she explains, rubbing her temples. "The uploads were faulty and, well, they need the updates. Along with clarifications from each crew member and a description for each one explaining the causes and effects."
"I'm afraid I can't really vouch for anything other than the weapons," he admits, kissing her neck lightly, "but I'm not sure that really counts as part of the ship."
"I also need to file out a risk assessment for the next mission," she continues, "now the Council knows we have the time. It's fucking stupid. What do they expect me to say? 'There's a risk of engagement in combat?!' 'There's a high chance one of us might get shot?!'"
She curses. "Idiots."
"Shep," he says, "this stuff can wait. It's the Council. Nobody's going to die. And you need sleep."
Shepard twists her head round to look at him, jaw clenched, her shadowy eyes searching his face with an almost critical intensity. He meets her gaze resolutely, maintaining that unwavering contact. Eventually, she gives in.
"Fine," she mumbles, reaching over to place the data pad on the desk. Kaidan murmurs a thank you and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him as she settles down under the duvet. And holy crap, her feet are impossibly cold.
"If I don't get those in on time, Alenko, I swear to god-"
"Shh," he whispers, cradling the back of her head with his hand. Already he can feel his body beginning to succumb to slumber. "Sleep," he says, "It's too late for this."
He feels her warm breath against his throat as she says something in response, but it is too quiet for him to make out what it is. He pulls her tight against him.
"You're one dynamite gal," he murmurs against her ear, just as sleep claims him. There's a pause, and then Shepard snorts, a delightful sound composed of exasperation and an amused huff.
"What does that even mean, Kaidan?" she asks with a giggle, her fingers light against his arm.
But he is already asleep.