Turians don't cuddle.
They can't, really. Not with other turians, that is. You can imagine Garrus' initial discomfort when his commander first curled into him, showing no signs of sexual advancement or any other interests. Not wanting get caught in some cross-species mistranslation, he wrapped his arm around her. He was aware bodily contact was a sign of affection between humans. It was, to some extent, between Turians as well, so it naturally seemed like the right thing to do at the time. These physical affections, however, are usually not prolonged. Physical construct simply makes it awkward, and so, they went without. Yet here Shepard was, her head tucked into his shoulder, other arm draped lazily across his chest. He held her protectively.
Of course, none of his previous relationships were shared with a human (or an asari, for that matter), whose species were well known for their lack of modesty. Shepard was not like that. Although he retained his skepticism for quite awhile after he was recruited into her team, she quickly became the focus of all his respect and eventually desire. He had met no human- no turian,asari, or salarian quite like her. Shepard was authoritative. She kept her team in line and dutiful, but still set aside her only free time to assure no conflict was risen. To assure they were at ease.
When he voiced his troubles concerning Dr. Saleon back on the original Normandy, he was not expecting a response of comfort or reassurance, and was possibly even more taken aback by her willingness to help clear his head. She put their entire assignment on hold to help him with a personal problem. The turian felt his heart ache, remembering how consumed he was with only rage back then. Remembering the sudden feeling of betrayal as his commander sternly ordered him to stand back, willing to spare the murderer standing right in front of them, quickly followed by some sort of pride when Saleon attacked, restraining from saying "I told you so". Instead of blatantly disrepecting her, he quickly decided simply questioning her motive would be enough to sate him. After all, Saleon was dead.
"You can't predict how people will act, Garrus. But you can control how you the end, that's what really matters."
Remembering the moment, his armed stiffened around the drowsy Shepard. The most affectionate gesture he could make.
Nearly 3 years ago Shepard spoke those words to him, but they were most definitely never forgotten. Spirits, he felt like a child compared to her after that. Before all he was focused on was justice and revenge, and here his commander, barely 3 years older than him, was keeping a level head despite the tremendous pressure constantly weighing down on her. He resolved to do better, perhaps make her proud one day. Garrus willingly followed her into utter hell on Ilos and the Citadel. He was there when Saren died, when history was made.
And then she died.
A little over two years ago, on just a routine mission, when suddenly the Normandy around him was in flames, and he before the turian could ask what the hell was happening he found himself in an escape pod, holding onto dear life. It was not until the crew was back on the citadel, shaken and relieved, that news frantically spread of Commander Shepard's death. Admittedly, at the time, the ex-officer was more in shock than remorse, like everyone appeared to be. This woman had just led him through the peak of his life time, and to suddenly be gone like that...he turned to the only thing he knew how to do; he fought. He became Archangel.
A very well kept alias, he found out only later that not even Cerberus was able to track him. The sniper was able to maintain a sense of familiarity through building a team, fighting the injustices of Omega. He was a real life angel, but not to all. For every fan he had there was two mercenaries opposing him, willing and able to do anything to bring down this idealist, stooping as low as to blackmail one of his own, jeopardizing his squad. It took that much to resign him to his fate. Shakingly holding his rifle in a well-covered position, he was hungry, tired, sore, and hopeless. In what he thought was his final moments, he thought of his family, and the great times spent in the Normandy. He once told Shepard that his father would not be fond of her, and only now amusingly concluded how wrong he was. He often disagreed with the way the two handled situations, but now he had a chance, something not given to him when the collector ship relentlessly attacked the Normandy. In a final attempt towards redemption, he contacted his father.
It was not the emotional goodbye that one would expect, but neither were expecting. After all, it was Garrus' father, and he was not one for giving up. And sometimes fathers know best. Garrus remembered the audible click his mandibles made, before offering the turian version of a grin as he eyed the N7 logo down his scope. He was sure his father was smiling, too.
So, Garrus really didn't die. Shepard was alive and breathing right in front of him, her face a mixture of confusion and relief as she realized the infamous Archangel was none other than her good friend. There was no time to be surprised, though, for the heart-warming greeting Shepard had wished for and he, perhaps, dreamed of. He felt exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him, his speech slowed and his hold shakey. She felt a ping of pity, but there was too much to be done. Including being hit in the face with a rocket.
He became vaguely amused at the memory, stirring him of welcomed numbness which settled over his body, inviting sleep. Shepard shifted momentarily at his side, supposedly sleeping.
The next thing that came to mind was him stirring in the medical bay, Chakwas gently caring for him. He had always respected the Doctor, feeling a certain fondness for her integrity. He patiently sat through the explanation as to what had happened to Shepard, and the Normandy, and its relation to Cerberus. He was not upset, unlike some of her other crew members. Just hours ago he had nothing and now that it was all back? He quickly made his resolve.
That involved convincing Chakwas to let him go, failing, ignoring her anyways, and confront the Commander. The looks people gave him were no less than shocked, and it was totally worth it. He was hurt, however, and not just physically. Shepard knew that. Maybe that is why he eventually found himself loving her so much.
Her attempt to help, however, did little to ease his anger at the time. Garrus' entire squad died due to one turian, and Garrus nearly followed. It was haunting. Insomnia overwhelmed him, he became irritated and unfocused. When Shepard finally hauled him over to the Citadel, it was not hard to tell she was upset over his reactions, and he promptly remembered their conversation shared after confronting Saleon, but pushed it away.
This was different. It was way different. Someone he and many others relied on turned on them, and at the cost of 10 lives. This wasn't revenge, this was justice.
So why didn't Shepard move out of the way? A pull of his finger would result in his satisfaction. It would have never been spoken of again. But she did not move, she even warned could have gotten away with it, too- she was a spectre, and who the hell was going to care about a single Turian? Listening to his pathetic excuses alone made him wish he was down there, made him imagine the pain he would inflict on Sidonis. It was the only thing he could do for his lost team, and now it was gone. The moment when his muscles relaxed, when his rifle was lowered and he turned to spare himself of the horrible being; the moment he simply gave up was unforgettable.
Only soon after did he realize it was not him giving up, but rather forgiving. He recognized it the second he took his sights off of Sidonis. There was still good left in him.
He felt relieved, not only that the issue was solved, but that he willed himself out of murdering an ex-comrade. He did not give Shepard enough credit for the effort and belief she put into others. It was something he could have never done without her guidance.
Garrus didn't have much time to dwell on it, however. There were missions to be done, guns to be calibrated, and a curious commander whom more often than she used to, probed him about his personal life. He didn't blame the redhead at first, after all, she only witnessed him nearly make rash decisions based on personal feelings twice, but was even more surprised by the fact that he did not find himself minding, even opening up to his superior. That's what lend to the rather awkward invitation to "blow off steam" (and you know where that goes). It would of been a no-brainer if she was turian, or, perhaps, if he was human.
But that didn't matter. She had gone through great lengths to secure his happiness, the least he could do was make her forget about everything for one night.
Most of that night didn't even categorize into whatever most consider blowing off steam (though they definitely did). It consisted of soft touches and whispering and embracing. By far the most intimate experience he has ever had, and shared with his closest friend.
It's safe to consider them a bit more than friends, now.
"Garrus?" Came a soft whisper.
He stirred, not fully asleep yet. The young turian suffered from insomnia, and because he is not allowed to sit battery all night, usually ends up reminiscing.
"Mm? Is something wrong?"
"No," she quickly responds, not wanting to disturb the little rest he already gets. "I'm sorry."
Garrus turned his head to face her, stretching the muscles in his legs. He felt stiff. "Bad dream?" he attempted to shake the sleepiness from his voice. When she didn't respond, he reassured her, "it's okay. I wasn't really sleeping, anyways."
"Yeah...why weren't you sleeping?"
"Just thinking." He exhaled slowly, pulling her closer against him.
He could hear her grin as she raised her head in curiousity. "Oh yeah? What about?"
"Oh, you know, the usual." He began, struggling to make out her facial features in the dimness of the light. "All those calibrations I'll finally get to work on later. Oh, and a pretty girl in my arms."
She lightly slapped his chest, prompting him to humor her, feigning pain. "I swear, you get off on that."
"Calibrations? You don't even know."
She began to really laugh this time, her whole body shaking against his chest. Her amusement was only temporary, though, and a comfortable silence settled over the two.
She traced small patterns across his chest, a small notion that put him at ease. "Seriously, though," her voice was uncharacteristically quiet, as if afraid to break the silence, "nothing serious, right? I'm here for you, Garrus."
He turned on his side, something necessary but took some shifting around, before pressing his forehead to his. "I can say the same about you, the one with nightmares. Just thinking about the good old days. My rebel days." He chuckled.
Shepard seemed to share the amusement. "Your rebel days?" she joked, "isn't your whole life one big rebellion?"
"If you're putting it that way, then yours would be, too."
"Mm, that's true…" she trailed off, focusing on how close his face was. His eyes were closed. He must of been exhausted. She pressed his lips to his, another very humanlike affection he was incapable of properly returning, but not enjoying. "Get some sleep."
Garrus turned again to lay on his back, and they returned to their original position, one hand placed on her back, the other on the arm across his chest. "You know, Turians usually don't cuddle."
"Is that so? Why?" She lazily ran her fingers down the length of his arm, wrapping her leg around his. He sighed.
"Body structures...plus, we are pretty warm."
"I've noticed."
"Heh." His mandibles flared briefly. Silence settled upon them again, this time welcomed.
He ran his blunted talon across her back, moving his arm in small motions that elated pleasant sighs from her. The woman in his arms has believed in him nonstop for years, even at his lowest moments, she had led him to reason. She stood patiently, while he took such actions for granted. She transformed him into a confident soldier and gentleman.
Indeed, Shepard was not like the other humans he had encountered at C-sec. She had the weight of a galaxy on her shoulders and never deteriorated. She was thoughtful and sympathetic, she loved her crew like family, willing to do anything and ask for absolutely nothing in return. He never felt like he deserved such an amazing person, and she trusted him in sharing the most intimate bonding species can have.
He continued rubbing her back.
She would have no nightmares tonight.