I lied. Apparently I also drew this.
Shepard can’t fight migraines. But, he can snuggle, right? Close enough.
shepard’s face is so damn expressive in the moments it can allow itself to be. when no one else is looking. when even his eyes are closed. it gets like he feels—sometimes, more than not these days—which is old and tired and worn; hard, but soft at the same time, deep wrinkles framing deeper shadows. he holds it all in for everybody else so it can be hard to remember who or what he is on his off-hours, how to help someone not when they can’t be helped but when help itself isn’t a solution. when it doesn’t involve shooting a target until it goes down for good, or until it goes up in flames. kaidan’s the one who knows how to do that. even in this moment, kaidan’s got a hand on him, returning everything he gets, the lines in shepard’s cheek and jaw pressed against a head that just plain hurts. it might not be what they need, but it’s what they want, and somehow that makes all the difference.
