December Sixteenth
"Deck! The halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, la la la la."
The hell? Shepard wondered, raising her head from the pillow. She pushed the curls out of her eyes. Is he singing?
"Tis! The season to be jolly, fa la la la la, la la la la."
Shepard grumbled under her breath, glaring at the clock. It is three o'clock in the freaking morning! She crawled out of bed and lurched into the hallway, where Garrus appeared to be torturing little strings of lights into submission while singing under his breath.
"Don we now our gay apparel—"
"Don our what now?" Shepard asked.
Garrus jumped, then flared his mandibles wide in a grin. "Make fun of me all you want. I wanted lights, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Fa la la, la la la, la la la."
"Troll the ancient yuletide carol," they both sang.
"Fa la la la la, la la la la." Shepard finished alone as Garrus stared at her.
"I keep forgetting you can actually sing."
Shepard shrugged, embarrassed. "Well, when you're not pumping me full of liquor. Where's the ladder? Let me help with the lights."
"You're bonded to a turian; we don't need a ladder. Sit down and sing to me."
Sighing, Shepard settled by his feet, trying to shake the awkward feeling of performing. What songs do I even remember? She closed her eyes, letting herself fall back to Christmases on Mindoir. Papa with his guitar, the whole family eating Christmas cookies and having a singalong before they went to bed. She smiled; the memories didn't hurt as much anymore.
"Oh, holy night … the stars were brightly shining …."