He throws his forearm over his eyes to shield himself from the sharp rays of artificial sunlight peeking through the curtains of his apartment window. The light is burning even through closed eyelids and squinting will only help so much. Steadfast, he remains still until the blinding intensity diminishes and he can open his eyes without discomfort.
Morning sunlight bathes the stillness of his room with hues of yellow, reflecting off pristine white and muted metal, surfaces as shiny and radiant as the rays which awoke him. Nothing moves in this quiet space, no noises heard save for the gentle breathing of those who reside within. His mind now awake bids he maneuver his body to sit perched on the edge of the bed, quietly so as not to disturb the bed's other occupant from her slumber.
He runs his hand over his face to dislodge the dregs of sleep from his muted muscles and stifles a yawn in the process. Injuries thought healed protest as he bends to retrieve his clothing from the floor beside the bed, sifting through piles of items discarded without care in the swell of emotion which had consumed them both.
The presence behind his back shifts, a sharp intake of breath as she is disturbed from her deep slumber.
"Garrus?"
Her voice is raw with sleep, brows drawn together in protest to the offending light. He had not intended to wake her, preferring instead to dress and take his leave without her knowledge. But perhaps it is best he did, as the gentle glow of his holographic clock informs him that the morning has been underway for some time.
Taloned feet scrape the cool floor as he moves to stand, cradling his clothes to his chest. He discards them on the table by the bathroom door before dragging himself into his small and sparse bathroom.
The nude goddess in his bed indulges in an exaggerated stretch, limbs akimbo as they stretch and contort in strange pleasure. Dustings of freckles across her brow and nose are more pronounced in the bright rays falling across the room. Wrapped in pristine white sheets, she is the very image of divinity. Eyes squeezed shut, cheeks flushed and puffed with sleep she is reminiscent of other times shared together in that same spot.
But that is a different time, a different context. It is morning now, and it is much later than he had intended.
A quick shower helps him remove the remaining vestiges of sleep from his eyes, the warm spray soothing tender muscles and re-awakening others. Along with the returning feeling to his limbs arrives the steady throb in his chest, an everlasting presence he has become familiar with. As with many injuries sustained in the heat of battle, it is a lingering reminder of the fact that he is still very much alive while others far better than he are not. At this point, it's absence would be more disconcerting than its presence.
Upon his exiting the bathroom dried and ready to dress, he spies the lump of flesh still cocooned within the confines of his bed. She turns her doe-eyes to him as he exits, glancing up and down his naked form, a small smile creasing the corners of her soft lips. He begins to pull his clothes on, glancing towards the clock once more. His searching gaze purposefully excludes her beseeching eyes.
"It's late." He tells her, voice gruff with the inconvenience of morning.
He gathers her discarded clothing from the floor and places them at her feet. She exudes the feeling of comfort, sleep-mussed and tousled with a relaxed composure of a good night's sleep.
"You should go" he tells her.
Her blue eyes offer only confusion, her lips a slight part, before her brows crease in surrendered understanding. Wrapping the sheets around herself like a protective force, she mutely nods. A part of him is grateful for her acquiescence even while the other is uncomfortable with this deviation from normality. He wanted to have spared her this, spared them both from having to confront the facade even as it was staring them in the face.
Turning towards the door, he prepares to take his leave.
"Liara?"
She turns her wide-eyed gaze on him and he chooses to believe the sheen in their depths is from a yawn.
"Thank you"
The door hisses shut at his back, the lock turning cherry red at his command.
He knows she'll be gone when he returns. She always is.
A/N: Just a little side-trip from my other story. Heard the song (It's Bad For Me by Rosemary Clooney) and couldn't get the idea out of my head. Hope you liked it!