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“Shepard, that's horrific,” it was hard to tell with turians, but under the glow of the blue Christmas lights, Garrus appeared to wear an expression of utter disgust.
“Wha-?” she mumbled around a mouth full of gingerbread man.
“You just bit off your own head.”
Shepard regarded the decapitated cookie sitting on the black plate in front of her.
“He's right,” beside her, Tali was swamped in the festive red sweater she'd donned over her enviro-suit. “Look, it's the same colour you customized your armour. And there's a little N7 logo. How sweet!”
“Hey, yeah,” Shepard prodded an arm tipped with blue. “Looks like ginger-me uses biotics. Who made these, anyway?”
Garrus was not to be pacified. “How is that cute? Is it common to eat food shaped like sapient beings in your cultures? That's, that's-- sick!”
Shepard blinked up at him. “There isn't really one human culture. I can only speak for mine and a handful of others but, uh, yes?”
Tali cocked her head to the side. “Yes, us too, we make sweet-loafs shaped and decorated like our loved ones on the day of their death to mark their passing.”
Shepard wrinkled her nose. “Ugh-- okay, not judging, not judging.”
Garrus rubbed at his forehead. “Clearly I need more alcohol.”
“Oh,” Tali looked at him hopefully“get me another induction port while you're up?”
Garrus looked over his shoulder. “What happened to the last straw?”
She steepled her fingers together and said, quite seriously:
“It broke.”
“More eggnog for me, Garrus, heavy on the rum.”
“Ladies, what am I a delivery service?”
“Yup,” Shepard exclaimed as Tali drawled an equally affirmative reply. The light of her eyes appeared to flicker, and Shepard wondered if quarians had eyelashes beneath those masks, and, if so, if Tali was batting hers. The effect was ruined, however, when she hiccuped through her mouthpiece.
Garrus heave a long-suffering sigh. “The things I do to boost morale.”
“Thanks,” Shepard called to his back. “You're an angel.”
“Very funny, Shepard.”
“I try.”
She surveyed the lounge. Many crew and squad members were present, and she had noted a steady stream of crewmen laden with tarts, treats and cocoa making their way out the doors, probably to distribute the treats to crew stuck working. Traynor had decorated a miniature plastic Christmas tree, making garlands out of tin foil and ornaments of spare odds and ends she'd found down in engineering. Somehow, as with everything else Traynor touched, it was meticulous.
Shepard started as she felt a weight settle against her. Tali sagged sideways, head lolling onto her shoulder. Light weight, Shepard thought fondly.
“Sooooo, Shepard. Do all humans practice this holiday?”
“No, but lot of the EU and the Americas do,” she paused, tapping her bottom lip with her finger. “And Oceania. And--”
“Do you?”
“Me? Yeah. When I can.”
“Ash?”
“Definitely, but it's a bit more religious for her.”
“Hmm, Joker?”
“Nah, he's Jewish.”
Garrus returned then, placing a new straw in Tali's half-downed Turian brandy, and delicately handed the egg nog to Shepard so as not to spill.
“What's it about?”
Garrus reclaimed his seat between them and Shepard leaned back against the black leather couch. “What's Christmas about? Well...”
“In Mexico, Las Posadas,” Vega, bearing a tray laden with more gingerbread homed in on their location and broke into their conversation “is about the birth of el nino Jesus, who was a gift from God to save men from their wicked ways.”
“Does your human culture make man-shaped edibles at Christmas too?” Garrus queried, looking at the marine intently.
James appeared to think about this. “No, but we do bake cakes with little dolls in it.”
Garrus stared.
“What? Whoever gets the doll brings the tamales for the next party. Hey, Commander want a gingerbread-man? I made one like Scars. You too, Sparks”
Garrus spat out his drink. “Give me that,” he said, snatching his miniature off the tray.
James blinked at him. “Didn't know you could eat them.”
“I can't, but I'll be damned before I let anyone else get their hands on it.”
“Uh, yeah. Okay.”
“You made all those cute little people-sweets?” Tali sounded impressed.
“Si, si, claro. I made the pinata too.”
“You made a pinata?” Shepard echoed.
“Yup,” James pointed to the middle of the floor. “And I need you to get it going, Commander.” He hauled Shepard up, and she would have spilled her egg nog all over Garrus had Liara not caught it with a blue glow, slowing its descent to the ground. Garrus shot her a grateful look across the room even while he bent to sop the mess up with a napkin, a steam of condemnations of human holidays issuing forth in a grumble.
“There,” James gestured to the ceiling, where a black squid...
No.
A reaper.
...where a reaper dangled innocuously.
Shepard couldn't hold back her laugh, and James looked properly chuffed as she admired his handiwork.
“It's beautiful, James,” she proclaimed at last.
“What do you do with that?” Tali asked, coming up behind her.
“You beat it,” Shepard answered.
“With as stick” James helpfully supplied.
“Here,” Shepard turned to hand the broomstick to Tali. “You take first crack.”
“Hey no fair,” James pouted as he tried to fasten a blindfold around her helmet.
“Here,” Shepard removed her own hideous Christmas sweater, placing the body around Tali's head and tying the arms into a knot. Tali wobbled to the centre and the crew, drawn by the spectacle laughed and cheered as she assaulted the air blindly.
“This feels a bit barbaric,” Garrus said, joining the crowd.
“You'll love it. Give it a whack and then it's Liara's turn.”
And so the night wore on, as Christmases are wont to do, full of food, laughter and merriment. Tali had let out a loud squeal as she and James and pulled her Christmas cracker apart, and wore her green paper crown for the rest of evening, though she panicked briefly when she thought it lost (it remained atop her head). Garrus, despite his initial misgivings took a shine to the pinata, thoroughly enjoying bludgeoning James's work of art. He was delighted when, at last, with a good whack from Joker it cracked open and rained sweets and assorted small treasures all over the floor. Delight quickly gave way to predation though, and Garrus competed with James, Donnely and Liara to try and scoop the most candy off the floor regardless of the amino building blocks the sweets contained. Vega had challenged Shepard to five rounds of shots, and even he with his massive bulk, and she with her Cerberus-engineered body were ragged with the after-effects. Then he had challenged her to a turkey and mashed potatoe eating contest and they had barely walked away.
It was late, and most party-goers had went for bed or a shift now, though a few remained scattered on the assorted overstuffed chairs and couches scattered throughout the Normandy's lounge. Shepard was sandwiched between a slumbering Tali and Garrus's solid weight. Someone had slung a scarf around his neck, and she leaned against its softness, head thrown back, staring at the ceiling.
It had been a good party.
It had been years since she could observe Christmas, even longer if you included the two years she had spend in death's grip. Traynor and James, an unlikely duo, had joined forces and really made it come together, from the tree to the lights to the cookies. It was the most relaxed she had seen her crew, and Shepard owed them both a debt of thanks for this spot of happiness in these dark days. She was admiring the Christmas lights, their blue twinkling glow competing with the endless light of the stars beyond when something caught her eye.
She straightened, and Garrus beside her hastily pulled a straw away from the vicinity of her left nostril. Tali, on his other side, startled awake.
Garrus looked a little too innocent and the straw was nowhere to be seen when he asked “What is it, Shepard.”
“Mistletoe.”
Tali stirred against her shoulder. “My translator..glitch. Something about a rocket-finger.”
“Archaic word. It's a plant,” she said, pointing to the paper cut out at the ceiling.
“So?”
“So you have to do this,” she leaned over and pressed a kiss to Garrus's mouthplate. She leaned back and his mandibles flared in surprise.
“Ok,” said Tali, and that was as much warning got as Shepard before the quarian pressed her mouthpiece to Shepard's lips. It was cold, hard and smooth, like kissing a bottle cap. Shepard struggled to keep her laughter from bubbling to the surface, as Tali pulled away to bestow a kiss to Garrus. That done, she settled against Shepard's shoulder into a sleep once more.
Silence settled like a comfortable cloak about them.
“Shepard?” Garrus whispered after a moment had gone by. He shifted, placing his namesake gingerbread version on the floor and reaching a long arm behind her, that stretched around Tali as well.
“What?”
“James said Christmas for his people was about a baby. What is it for you?”
Shepard considered for just a few seconds. “Christmas is about spending time with the people you care about.”
“But you spent it with us, aliens who don't even know what a Christmas is.” His face was bathed in the glow of the Christmas lights, and, carefully, he pressed his mouth to hers.
She looked at Tali, fast asleep against her arm. And she looked back at Garrus, staring back at her with as soft and expression she'd ever seen him wear. She smiled and leaned just a little closer.
“Exactly,” she whispered.