Garrus and Kaidan
They leave Opold's place empty-handed and head back for the ship in relatively comfortable silence. It's near midnight, and the port is cleaning itself out. They'd stuck it out at the bar as long as possible, but there's nothing to do except drink and shop and wait. Of the three, Kaidan's best at waiting.
"I'm just saying, if you want everyone to stop looking down on volus manufacturing, maybe you should make a gun worth firing," Garrus grumbles. Kaidan just smiles, activating the decontamination cycle as the door hisses shut behind them.
"We could always see if Rosenkov's released something new."
"Or beg Shepard for her Spectre Gear cast-offs. She's upgrading when we get to the Citadel."
"Those weapons are for Spectres only," Kaidan says, shaking his head. Garrus leans into the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
"You know, your natural sense of moral superiority goes so well with that peashooter you've had since Feros."
"Peashooter? Garrus, you're going native."
The interior door whooshes open at last, and they step inside, to a chorus of drunk noise. Shepard and Joker are sprawled in separate chairs, slurring, laughing, empty liquor bottles swinging from their hands.
"Not it!" Shepard says, head lolling, cracking herself up. A misfire of a high-five sends two more empty bottles careening across Joker's console, which somehow makes them both laugh harder.
"Loser takes Shepard," Garrus says, holding up his closed fist. Kaidan picks scissors, and Garrus picks rock: he grins, sliding an arm between Joker and the seat, as Kaidan sighs and turns to Shepard.
"Look who's home!" she says, pushing herself up without even a hint of coordination—he hardly manages to keep her from slamming her head into the seat-back. "Did you have fun without me?"
"Lots of it," he grunts, managing to secure one of her arms around his shoulders. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"
"Naughty," Shepard whispers, but no one else hears it, and Kaidan half-carries her across the CIC. The stairs are much more difficult—she seems to want to slide down the rail, or sit down and go to sleep right on the steps.
"C'mon, Commander," he says. "We're almost there."
He pulls her up again, using the wall as a brace, when her hands snake unexpectedly around his middle and she leans her chin on his shoulder.
"Taking me somewhere, LT?" she slurs, nuzzling against his skin. "I'm sure I'll like it."
Kaidan runs through a mental roster of the crew. Only Grenado's on night-watch, and she likes to linger down in Engineering. Even Chakwas is usually asleep by now, so there's no one to sneak up on them, to watch as their commanding officer slowly, drunkenly, kisses the side of his neck.
"Shepard," he says, not nearly as firm as he'd like. "You're really drunk."
"'S not what made me like you," she replies, coy and breathy and now her lips are moving up, towards his jaw, and her hands are drifting as well, pulling him closer.
"Shepard, stop."
She bites down right at the neckline of his fatigues, and he yelps, pushing himself back as she slumps down the wall, cackling.
His head pounds—unable to decide between embarrassment and arousal.
"You are my commanding officer," Kaidan says, more for himself than her, balling his hands into fists, working the tension into his extremities and then away.
Shepard has reached the pliable phase of drunkenness, molding against his shoulder when he picks her up again. They reach her cabin without any further horrifying incidents, and he eases her onto the bed, on her side, head propped. He stays just long enough to be sure that she's asleep and won't choke or roll herself to the floor.
She is unguarded in sleep, jaw slack, mouth open, eyes pinched. She drools a little, and he knows he's in trouble when his first thought is how sweet she looks.
He locks himself up in an empty pod, thunking his head against the hard pillow until he falls asleep.
The releasing hiss wakes him in the morning, and he stumbles into the mess to a chorus of moans. Shepard and Joker sit across from each other, heads cradled, coffee beneath their noses.
"Shut up," Joker begs.
"You shut up," Shepard returns. "With the shut up."
"If I keep talking, I'm going to throw up."
"So stop talking," Tali says flatly, from the opposite end of the table. Garrus pulls two bowls of soup from the dextro pantry and walks them past, drawing another round of pathetic moans. Kaidan can't help laughing a little.
Which draws Shepard's glare to him.
"Laugh it up, LT," she says darkly, pushing herself upwards unsteadily. He reaches out to help her instinctively.
"I'm telling Anderson you tried to poison me," Joker says.
"Shut up."
"Sorry, ma'am," Kaidan says, releasing her hand.
"Forgiven, LT."
She brings a hand to her mouth and swallows, eyes closing.
"Think I can make it back to my cabin unassisted."
"Yes, ma'am."
Of course everyone's watching, even Joker, eyes peeking between his fingers.
"What happened to your neck?" Shepard asks.
"Nothing," Kaidan says, far too quickly. And of course he's blushing, while Shepard just gives him a thousand-yard side-glance.
"Okay," she says, huffing out a short breath. "I'm going to lie down. Page me if we get clearance."
"Aye, aye, ma'am."
He turns back to the table, where everyone has suddenly become very interested in breakfast, so he pours himself some coffee and sits in Shepard's vacant chair.
"So what did happen to your neck?" Garrus asks innocently. "Lose a game?"
"Shut up."