Kaidan takes a pull off his beer, eyes drifting lazily around the beach. White crested waves ride sapphire water as it rolls ashore and mingles with the white sand that lies in its path, the soothing sounds of its eternal ebb and flow reminding him a little of the drive core on the Normandy. But there definitely aren’t seagulls on the ship.
The sun is bright but not quite blinding, a few wisps of stray cloud drift across an otherwise clear sky, and the air smells so strongly of salt Kaidan can feel it seeping into his skin. A handful of lounge chairs lie scattered about, some occupied, some already claimed by towels and ostentatious beach bags. The resort is remote, even for Bora Bora, but Shepard has not gone unnoticed. A few tourists shift regular, furtive glances their way, though if Shepard has noticed he doesn’t let on. Instead he sits on the stool he’s claimed at the bar, glass of whisky in hand, eyes trained on the horizon, posture that of someone who has been told to relax but doesn’t really know how.
He’s also still wearing a shirt, much to Kaidan’s disappointment, Alliance blue and stolen from Kaidan’s suitcase. The scars from Shepard’s stand on the Citadel are still raw enough and sharp enough that he doesn’t enjoy calling attention to them unless they’re alone.
At first Kaidan didn’t think Shepard was enjoying himself, but the skin at the corner of his eyes is smoother, his hands don’t fidget like normal, and rather than inhale the whisky he’s content to just sip at it. The signs may be subtle, but Kaidan has learned how to pick them out.
He doesn’t say much. Shepard is quieter these days, as if he’s used up most of his words on threats, diplomacy and speeches. Now that it’s over, time for someone else to do the talking. So Kaidan does. He talks about weather. The book he’s reading. The latest update from Tali on Rannoch. Laughs at Garrus’ dealings with turian bureaucracy, because guess who got stuck liaising between the turians and the new Krogan Empire.
Shepard listens. Smiles. Occasionally interjects with a comment, sometimes just seeks out Kaidan’s hand and squeezes it tight. Right now they sit in peace, peace – Kaidan remembers when the concept seemed like a lie – listening to the waves stroke the shore, and Kaidan wonders at how the man beside him, who has always been so defined by frenetic movement, can be so still.
A breeze wanders by. Behind them on the other side of the bar comes the sound of clinking bottles. An asari wearing a silk sarong approaches and places an order, her gaze straying to Shepard as she waits for the bartender to make her drink. She doesn’t say anything – thankfully – and within short order she takes a glass with something red inside of it, topped with a pineapple slice and a green umbrella, and heads back to her lounge chair. Kaidan watches her go, or more accurately, he watches the umbrella.
“I feel like we’re not blending in.”
Shepard looks over at him in mild amusement. “What do you mean?”
Kaidan waves an arm. “We might be the only two people in this place without an umbrella in our drink.”
Shepard follows his gaze, noting that even though the population is sparse, the ratio of umbrellas to beverages is exorbitantly high. Without a word he gets up, turns, leans over the counter and nabs two umbrellas from the bartender’s stash tucked under the ledge of the bar. He plinks a blue one down in Kaidan’s beer, a red one in his whisky.
Kaidan grins. “Much.”
The bartender, a well-tanned kid who has been trying not to stare ever since they sat down, gingerly picks up the container of umbrellas and sets it up on the bar. “T..take as many as you want, Commander,” he manages.
Shepard nods and tips his glass in thanks. The bartender nearly faints, and quickly busies himself wiping down glasses. Kaidan hides a smile. As soon as the kid’s shift ends everyone he knows is going to find out he spent the afternoon serving drinks to the Savior of the Galaxy.
“Wanna go for a walk?” Shepard asks, impervious.
“Sure,” Kaidan answers, surprised at the suggestion. Though Shepard hides it well, the reconstruction Miranda did on his left leg still causes him enough pain that his physical therapists stopped referring to him as the Savior of the Galaxy in favor of That Pain in the Ass in Room 212.
But today must be a good day. Shepard takes him by the hand and strolls to the shoreline. Kaidan’s eyes stray from the blue water to the palm trees and tropical vegetation layering the gently rising hill behind them. The resort cabins blend right into the bright, floral foliage. He makes a mental note to thank Liara for finding the perfect spot to relax. Heal. Rest.
For the first time their future isn’t uncertain. He doesn’t go to sleep at night mentally calculating how much time they have left, constantly worrying that he’s let some moment slip past, didn’t enjoy it to its fullest or appreciate it enough. He doesn’t have to wake up in the morning wondering if they’re out of tomorrows.
He glances sideways at Shepard. Remembers the finality in his eyes. The stiff armored gauntlet against his cheek.
No matter what happens, know that I love you. Always.
He lets out a shaky breath as Shepard stoops to pick up something nestled in the sand. On his way back up he grimaces, and Kaidan offers a steadying hand, thankful that Shepard was distracted enough not to notice his maudlin slip.
Shepard brushes the sand off of whatever he’s found and holds it up.
It’s a seashell. Perfect scalloped shape, brushed with gold and violet hues. Shepard’s lips twist in a bittersweet smile that Kaidan doesn’t understand.
Shepard brushes his thumb across the shell’s ridges, then tucks it securely into the pocket of his swim trunks.
“Yeah,” he replies after a moment, then turns with a conviction in his eyes Kaidan hasn’t seen yet in the months since the reapers’ fell. “Everything’s good.”
Shepard takes Kaidan by the hand, tugs him closer and leans in to murmur in his ear.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Kaidan smiles. “I know. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I was listening to this fuckin’ song and then all the memories came back in my mind.
"No matter what happens. Know that I love you. Always."
"I love you too. Be careful."
FUCK NO. THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO STAY TOGETHER FOREVER!
FUCK! Can you even imagine how Kaidan would feel after the ME3 ending?
Argh. It’s tearing my heart apart. Damn.
*Goes in the corner and cries*
Valentines day Mass Effect fluff with the boys finally sharing that beautiful view.
Last kiss of day, good night =)
Party & suits (everypeople love suits—-> sexy) some smiles
When you actually stare at this picture and start imagining those two together with all of their history behind them. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings I’m having. Why am I so addicted to this couple? Why do I love this game’s story so much? Why, why, why? This never happened before, so why now?
that odd moment when south park says something more beautiful and poetic than most television shows out there
no,like this guy here is the cutest fucking little ball of sunshine though.
So, this will be my Kaidan Porn Week contribution. It may not be porn porn, but it’s practically porn for my emotions and feels.
(Disclaimer: many of these pics drawn, from the game, are not mine. I can only recall a few such as stonelions, alishatorn, comediaace, rainreaper, deviantart…
I’m crying, I’m crying so much. Happy ending, I can’t believe (Despite to be a mod)
Dreams can be real (I don’t know this dlc)
I gave pixel-flux the original 151 (150 oops forgot slowpoke sorry) pokemon pictures and
the only appropriate reaction to lickitung
there is not a single one i do not like