AUTHOR'S NOTE: Make sure to have your dentist on call, because you're going to get a cavity from reading this. It's ridiculously sweet and a little corny.
Shepard untangled herself from the sheets and went to retrieve the book from her desk. It was a slim volume, but within its relatively few pages was all the beauty Earth's best writers had to offer. Pressing it close to her chest, she returned to the bed. Garrus wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. Smiling drowsily, Shepard settled back, relishing in his warmth, his touch, his sheer presence. The turian was a constant reminder that, no matter how bad things got, she'd never be alone in facing them.
"Ooh, are we having story time?" Garrus murmured. Shepard could almost hear the laughter in his voice.
She opened the book to a dog eared page. "I guess you could say that. I just figured that with…everything going on, we could use a little…encouragement."
Garrus made a thoughtful noise, brushing her hair away from her neck. A delicious shiver danced down Shepard's spine as he gently nipped her skin. "You're all the encouragement I need. The promise of galaxy wide fame after all this is over doesn't hurt, either."
"Glad I've been able to help." Shepard replied honestly. Any measure of comfort she could give Garrus was worth all the strife, all the hardship. He deserved happiness, and if she was the one who made him happy…Well, that was a definite bonus. "But, seriously, there's this poem…I think you'd like it. It's one of my favorites."
Garrus glanced over Shepard's shoulder at the book. "Do not go gentle into that good night." He read. "I like it already."
"Told you," she said. She picked up where he left off, grinning as he whispered the words along with her. "Old age should rave and burn at the close of day. Rage—"
"—Rage against the dying of the light." Garrus finished. He paused for a moment, staring intently at the page, then said, "I can see why this is one of your favorites. You don't go gently into anything. You've got the whole rage thing down, too."
Shepard laughed. She pressed a kiss to the faded scars raking his cheek. "I've got a lot to be angry about. First Saren, now the Collectors. The Reapers…"
"Yeah, but..." Garrus took the book from Shepard's hands and closed it, putting it down on the nightstand beside the bed. He held her even tighter against the hard column of his body, as if doing so would somehow make everything right again. "You defeated Saren. And you're going to defeat the Collectors. As for the Reapers? Those self-righteous bastards don't stand a chance. Not against you."
Shepard wished she could believe that. The truth of the matter was that she had no idea what was coming next. She had no idea what the Reapers were planning, floating out there in dark space. She had no idea and having no idea about anything terrified her. She had an entire galaxy sitting on her shoulders and what was she doing? Sitting in bed and reading poetry.
"Shepard?"
She was sitting in bed and reading poetry. Human colonies were being disappearing in droves. No one knew why. And she was sitting in bed and—
"Shepard?"
Reading poetry.
"Charlie!"
Shepard blinked. The use of her first name was enough to break her downward spiral. She forced herself to look Garrus in the eye. She loved his eyes, even if one of them was always obscured by that damn visor. "Do you really think we can do this, Garrus? Do you really think we can defeat the Collectors? The Reapers?"
Garrus didn't hesitate. "Yeah. I do. It won't be easy, of course. You don't deal in easy. But can we do it? Can you do it? Yes. I know you can. You were born to do this, Shepard."
Shepard turned in his arms, straddling his lap. Her fingers skimmed the rim of his visor until they found a minuscule button that she assumed served as some sort of off switch. The data feeds and whatever else Garrus kept loaded on the visor blinked off.
"What do you think you were born to do, Garrus?" She asked quietly.
"I never really thought about it." He admitted just as quietly. "If you had asked me this a few years ago, I would have told you that my purpose in life was to piss of my dad."
Shepard bit her lip to keep from laughing. "What about now?"
Garrus, having gotten a whole lot bolder after their first time "blowing off steam," seized her by the waist, pulling her even closer. "Maybe it's to follow you around?"
"And you're okay with that?"
Once again, Garrus Vakarian hadn't a moment's hesitation. "I don't know what it is about you, Shepard. Maybe it's your insatiable need to help every damn person in the galaxy…Or maybe it's your hair. Or your waist—which still looks very supportive, by the way—Or maybe it's something else…But you make people want to follow you. You make me want to follow you. And I…I've never been more okay with anything in my entire life."
His impromptu speech stole her breath away. What was she supposed to say to that? How was she supposed to react? No one treated her like Garrus did. No one told her things like he did. No one…made her feel like he did.
"You don't miss C-Sec?" She said stupidly. "Being bored?"
"No," he replied. "Not one bit."