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“Wait a second. So you’re telling me you lie to kids to get them to behave themselves? And they actually believe that some strange man in a red suit will bring presents if they do? Eliza, that’s ridiculous.”
“No, not exactly,” Shepard started, not sure how best to explain Santa Claus to her turian boyfriend. “It’s just a fun tradition, I suppose, something my mom remembered from when she still lived on Earth. I was usually one of the only kids around, but she’d always get a crew member to dress up as Santa for me.”
Garrus still looked skeptical as he raised a hand to his mandibles in a pretty good imitation of her own thinking pose. “Alright. I can see the importance of traditions. Now explain the tree again for me,” he replied, using his free hand to point to the Christmas tree Shepard had set up in her cabin.
It wasn’t much to look at, if she were being completely honest with herself. There wasn’t a lot of spare room in her cabin aboard the Normandy, especially for something that was so frivolous, but when Shepard had seen the scraggly tree in one of the Citadel shops on their last visit, she couldn’t resist the urge to buy it. It reminded her a little of a tree from an old cartoon vid she used to watch when she was a kid. It was only a few feet tall, its branches more than a little sparse, and definitely in need of a little love. So she bought it, along with a few colorful ornaments and a shiny gold star topper that was shedding glitter everywhere. It still barely fit, shoved in a corner next to her side of the bed, but the memories it brought back made it more than worth it.
“It’s a holdover from various pagan holidays. It got absorbed into Christianity at some point and became another tradition, I guess,” she explained. She sat down on their bed, giving the tree a once over and wishing she could have found some lights for it. “Another thing that reminds me of growing up. It was just me and mom, and even though we lived mostly on ships and in space stations, it was important to her that we have at least a few traditions. Christmas was one of them.”
The bed sunk in next to her as Garrus sat down and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The weight of it was familiar, comforting, and she burrowed in closer when he pulled her tight to his side. “Well, Eliza,” he whispered, dropping a light kiss onto the top of her head. “I suppose now we have a new tradition.”
*****
It had been a long day of meetings, but they were finally over and Shepard couldn’t have been happier to be back in her cabin, away from everyone and everything, if only for a few moments. She pulled her hair out of it’s braid, running her fingers through her chestnut hair until it fell in thick waves past her shoulders. A hot shower would do her a world of good, she thought, dropping articles of clothing on the floor as she walked, not caring about the trail she was leaving behind. She started the shower, stepping under its stream when it got hot enough. The tension in her shoulders started to lift as she stood there, and the heat was so relaxing that perhaps she stayed longer than was strictly necessary to wash up.
Shepard finally shut the water off when she noticed that her fingers had pruned, drying off quickly and putting on a pair of N7 sweat pants and a tank top. There were emails waiting for her at her terminal, but Shepard passed it by and headed straight for her bed, stopping short once it came into view. It looked like Christmas had exploded all over her cabin. There were strands of garland hung everywhere, silver and gold and red that sparkled when the light hit them. Lights too, strung up around the perimeter of her cabin, on her tree, across her night stand, and even on the wall behind her bed. She stepped further in, and that’s when she noticed the wreath hanging on the partition that divided her living area from her terminal. It was much too large, covered in ribbons and ornaments and lights. On either side of the wreath hung a bright red stocking, ‘Eliza’ written on one with silver glitter, ‘Garrus’ written on the other.
It was a testament to just how exhausted she was when she first entered her cabin, because somehow, she had missed it all. And the best part, of course, was Garrus, laying in the dead middle of her bed, looking like the cat that ate the canary with a grin on his face and his arms crossed under his head, which had a Santa hat perched upon it. It was… Shepard hadn’t noticed any tears until she felt on run down her cheek. She wiped it away. “Garrus, this is… it’s incredible. How did you pull this off?”
“Oh, this?” he asked, waving his hand around the room as if he didn’t know what she meant. He stood, padding over to her and enveloping her in a quick hug before pulling back. “It seemed like this holiday was pretty important to you, so I watched some vids, asked Liara for information. Miranda helped me find the decorations. Do you like it?”
His voice wavered a little at the end, almost as if he had been unsure. It wasn’t something Shepard was used to hearing. She placed her hand against his mandible, right over his scar, and he nuzzled into her palm. “Of course I do - it’s perfect.”
Garrus leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. “I’m glad. Happy Christmas, Eliza.”
“Happy Christmas, Garrus.”
