#i had a lot of feelings about sam and kaidan today but am spinning my wheels on mezzo

[swaps55]

Silver

Morning sun cuts through the small, circular bathroom window and spills onto the bedroom floor, bright enough Kaidan thought they’d left the light on overnight. But when he rolls out of bed and pads over to the open door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, it’s just the sunlight and Shepard scowling in front of the mirror, towel slung low on his hips as he leans in to examine something on his chin.

They have nowhere to be until tomorrow, when they have to head into Vancouver to greet Jack’s latest field trip of Grissom biotics for a weekend stay at the orchard. In fact, Kaidan distinctly remembers a conversation yesterday afternoon about lounging in bed this morning to enjoy some peace before the madness descends. Yet here Shepard is, awake before the alarm Kaidan had turned off, ready to take the day head on.

Some things never change.   

“Morning,” Kaidan says, leaning against the doorframe to take in the sight with a soft smile.

Shepard grunts in response, tilting his neck and practically pressing his face against the mirror while scrubbing a thumb across the stubble on his cheek. Sometimes, if the light hits it right, Kaidan can still see the ghostly white lines of the Lazarus scarring. But as more years go by, they’re harder and harder to see.

Time does heal, he supposes.

“Something wrong?” Kaidan asks.

Shepard presses and pulls at the skin over his lip before finally glancing over his shoulder at Kaidan in the doorway. The way his gaze lingers for a moment over Kaidan’s bare chest still sends a delighted shiver down his spine.

“Being rudely reminded of the passage of time,” he grumbles, then points to his chin. “I think I have a grey hair.”

Kaidan heart clutches unexpectedly, the way it used to do over and over in the days, weeks, hell, months after the final push. Memories that feel distant except in moments like this whisper in his ear.

(I’ll be fine.)

(I can’t lose you again.)

(We both know this is goodbye.)

He draws in a sharp breath, sharp enough that Shepard’s irritation vanishes in a heartbeat.

“What is it?” Shepard asks.

Kaidan takes in the lean but softening muscle of Shepard’s chest, the deepening laugh lines around his eyes, the soft brush of silver that’s not just in his stubble – it’s in his temples, too, now that Kaidan’s looking.

“Nothing,” he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Just…something I never thought I’d get to see.”