when stubble catches on stubble and kaidan’s eyebrow tickles shepard’s ear—
these little things that don’t mean much on the cosmic scale, big damn heroes with small damn hands trying to hold too damn much—
after the years it takes, years and years, to learn what staying in is and what sleeping late can be and what home even means—
sweaters and t-shirts instead of chrome-plated armor—
scars instead of weapons, ‘cause you can’t shoot anyone from the balcony in a residential zone, apparently—
he learned that the hard way, learned everything the hard way—
they sit on the same bed and make promises that, finally, they can keep.