Scene: Garrus finds Shepard trying to cope in Thessia's aftermath.
Shortly after Thessia, the Normandy docks at the Citadel, and Shepard orders everyone to take a two-day leave before they embark on a deep-space mission for Horizon. The entire crew complies, partly because what they might encounter on the colony is a complete unknown and resupplying never hurts, but mostly because no one dares to go against the commander and the thunderous look in her eyes when she had issued said command. The ship empties within the hour. Even Liara is seen leaving her room, wiping her cheeks with one hand, a suitcase full of work-files in the other.
Garrus sneaks back in after the first day. He had been going stir-crazy on the Presidium after buying all of the necessary upgrades and personal amenities, enough to last him for at least a month. It was unbearable to watch people wandering through garden paths and shiny boardwalks (the ones undamaged from the coup anyway) with nary an urgent thought in their heads, spirits take them. Feeling as if he had been sitting on his hands for too long, he strolls onto the Normandy with his arms full of crates and heads for the main battery to unload.
"Shepard's orders were for the crew to remain on the Citadel for an additional 24 hours," EDI chimes in helpfully during the elevator ride down.
"Acknowledged and taken into consideration."
"Orders cannot be 'taken into consideration'—"
"Then let's keep this between us, turian to ship AI. What do you say?"
"…very well, Garrus. But I will not be held responsible for your insubordination," and he swears EDI sounds almost amused on the last word.
His footsteps echo eerily on the straight walk to his humble abode, and he idly wonders where Shepard had gone off to after they had exited the ship together. She hadn't been in the mood to volunteer any information, and he had been smart enough not to ask. As he drops the crates next to his weapons table, he thinks he hears a faint scuffle towards the forward battery, the rub of a boot against the floor, and quickly hops down those two steps to find her sitting down in the corner, knees drawn to her chest.
His mandibles flap for several seconds. "Uh," he says eloquently.
Shepard looks up at him, suddenly small and fragile in comparison to his towering frame, and he realizes then that she isn't wearing any armor. It's just her hoodie, light uniform pants, and boots. Her loosely tied hair falls in thick waves around her face, framing eyes that haven't seen sleep in days. She licks her lips before croaking, "I thought I told you to stay off the ship."
Garrus shrugs, sliding down against the wall to the floor beside her. "I got bored. Had to check on how the old girl's doing."
She tucks her hair behind her ear. "As you can see, the Normandy's fine."
"I'm not so sure." There's a red tinge to her nose. "After what went down on Thessia, I'm starting to see some wear and tear."
It's nothing she can't handle," she says, staring straight ahead.
"Still." He slowly brushes back a stray curl from her forehead and lets a single talon trace her cheek. "It wouldn't hurt to have someone take a look at her every once in a while. Just to be sure."
Before he can pull away, Shepard slightly leans into the touch, closing her eyes. Garrus doesn't ask why she's breaking her own rule, and doesn't ask why she's chosen to hide here. Her next words come out in a low shudder. "I guess that's what you're here for."
The vulnerability in her voice almost scares him, but he doesn't tell her that either. "You know the drill. I'm here if you need me," he says simply.
She looks at him full in the face. "I do."
Carefully, he turns her toward him, pulling Shepard to his chest so that the two are entwined in each other with his back against the wall. His spurs are pushed uncomfortably against the sides of his legs, her nose keeps rubbing against the piece of armor that covers his keel, but his long arms easily reach around her, and she curls closer, crossing her arms and folding her shoulders into his hold. Flyaway strands of her hair tickle his neck. He sizes the disparity between his two-toed feet and her relatively tiny five-toed version, marveling at the ways their bodies aren't meant to fit together (but do regardless, in a fashion he never would have expected.)
She sighs long and hard. "Earth, Palaven, Thessia—they're all burning. There's only so much fight in a person, only so much death you can take before…"
"A certain turian with no romantic skills to speak of tries to cheer you up," Garrus replies, nuzzling the top of her head.
She lets out a quiet, chuffing sound that's suspiciously similar to laughter. "You always have to turn everything into a joke, don't you?"
"It's the only thing I'm good at," he protests, "That, and sniping."
"We have to find you some new hobbies." Her fingers press themselves against where a human sternum would be on his person. "And what's that weird vibrating coming from your chest—are you purring?"
Garrus fights the sudden urge to tug at the armor around his cowl. "It's involuntary."
"It's cute," she says, ducking her head to hide her expression.
"It means I feel safe around you."
Shepard goes still.
"You can't save everyone, but take comfort in knowing that the people around you—your crew, your friends, your boyfriend—feel completely and utterly protected."
She pulls away to face him, her throat bobbing up and down. He doesn't know how to describe the twist in her mouth or the look in her eyes, but he puts it somewhere between touched, pained, and tender. "The little things, huh?"
As they touch foreheads, Garrus thinks that what they have isn't little, not at all.