Ring-ring-riiing.
His frontal lobes burned red from the incessant noise beating at his ear drums. He couldn't think of anything worse than the pounding that coursed through his head at the moment. The surface he's lying on is cold - it's hard; definitely not the bed in his cabin where he should be, but that's probably the least of his worries.
At this point, he'd do just about anything to stop the pain, anything but removing himself from the increasingly comfortable floor. He hopes he's not in a place too obvious, seeing as how it wasn't exactly professional to be sprawled out in such a position, especially if you're a commander. He was sure as hell setting an example right now – being hung over half passed out on the floor, a very bad example. His will to move was thinning with each passing second, and all previous efforts to stand had failed miserably; he thinks that's how he ended up in what seems to be the mess hall in the first place. Lucky enough for him, all the crew members that resided on this deck had long gone to bed. Well, all but one.
Feeling a shift in movement, Shepard grumbles and attempts to grip onto the figure lifting him off the ground.
"Thanks… Vakarian," he slurs, coming to an almost stand with the help of the Turian.
"Who let you into the liquor cabinet? With the way you're walking, I'd guess you drank some of that Krogan scum," Garrus says, doing his best to support Shepard and walk him to the nearby elevator.
"Hey, it's not scum… It actually tasted kind of good," he finishes with a hiccup as his friend props him up to the wall of the small space and presses a few buttons on the control panel.
Ring-ring-riiing.
Shepard clenches his hands over his ears, but to no avail, the ringing still sounds louder than ever. So loud that he barely notices that he's being lifted and just about carried to his bed. Once set down, he snuggles into his pillows, they're a lot more comfortable than he remembers – a lot more welcoming. Burying his face into the mattress, he mumbles something of a thanks over his shoulder hoping Garrus could decipher his slur.
A part of him didn't want to fall asleep, considering his dreams were likely to be lined with constant thoughts of her, and with his recent luck, her still fresh rejection would haunt him even during slumber. But the way the sheets of his bed enveloped him, it was hard to resist no matter how much of a fight he put up. Surrendering, he lets his eyes come to a full close; the fish tank still creating a semi illuminating glow around the room, even through his shut lids.
Ring-ring-riiing.
God, his head was going to hurt in the morning.
A/N: So I started this off real slow and mysterious, it's definitely a M!Shepard and Samara fic and I'm excited for it! I hope you guys R&R, don't forget to check out my other stories. Also, would you rather see a M!Shepard and Kasumi fic, or an M!Shepard and Traynor fic? I'm having trouble deciding. Let me know!