Commander John Duncan Shepard. Nicknamed JD by his closest friends and family (and he had a lot of friends and family), son of Captain Hannah Shepard, Eagle Scout, star athlete at his space station's high school, one of the youngest soldiers ever to have been awarded the Star of Terra, and the most upstanding gentlemen to grace the ranks of not only the Alliance, but the Spectres.
Who was also currently drunk off his ass.
After the third time he fell off the bar stool from swaying just a little too far to the side, Jacob and Garrus met each other's eyes and nodded. It was time to get Shepard back on the Normandy. Each slung an arm around their shoulders, both ignoring the slurred mumbling of protest from the commander, and made their way out of the Dark Star Lounge with Garrus making a short nod to the bartender who had been so amused by Shepard's drunken antics he declared the drinks on the house.
"We should probably get a cab," said Garrus as he glanced around the still bustling ward.
Jacob nodded. "Yeah. Miranda probably won't like it if we hauled the commander around the entire Citadel in the state he's in."
"'m fine," Shepard spat. Neither turian nor sober human acknowledged him as they made their way to the terminal to hail a cab. "Really. Can have more. Want more..." He stepped forward to escape the sturdy shoulders of his companions, only to stumble forward. Jacob and Garrus lunged to keep his face from making a heavy reunion with the floor.
"Come on, Commander, we need to get you back to your cabin," said Jacob.
Shepard's face twisted in horror. "No. Not my cabin. Her picture... no... not right now, no..."
Jacob frowned and looked to Garrus for help, who seemed forlorn at the mention of the Alliance soldier they'd met on Horizon. "Never thought I'd see you so torn up over a woman, Shepard," he muttered.
Shepard groaned and grunted and shook his head. "No," he insisted. "Can't... don't wanna..." The rest was unintelligible mumble.
Luckily, that was when the cab pulled up, and Jacob and Garrus helped Shepard into it. He slumped over the entire backseat, his mutterings dying down, and Jacob thanked whatever ethereal being that may or may not exist that the commander was finally passing out. Garrus nudged Shepard over as best as he could without waking him so he could sit in the back, and Jacob grabbed shotgun and directed the cab driver to where the Normandy was docked.
For a while, the car was quiet. The batarian cab driver seemed more enthralled with the twenty-first century littered radio station ("Man, there's never anything good on past midnight," Jacob muttered) to engage the passengers in conversation, and Jacob and Garrus barely had anything to say to each other. Yes, Shepard often had them at his back during all the missions, but they were rarely in situations suitable to get to know each other outside of what guns the other preferred in combat. What were they going to talk about, anyway? The shit that went down at the last mission? That was the entire reason they were here and Shepard drunk, anyway.
Come to think of it... "Hey Garrus," Jacob called over his shoulder. "You think we should get that picture he's talking about out of there? Seems like it's only going to distress him more."
Garrus said nothing at first, and he glanced at the sleeping man beside him. After a moment's consideration, he shook his head. "No. Drunk or sober, Shepard's not going to be happy to see it missing."
"You sure?" Garrus just nodded, and Jacob relented. "Alright, you know the commander better than any of us. I'll take your word on it."
They arrived at the docking bay, and while Garrus pulled Shepard out of the cab, Jacob paid the cab driver the fare and rushed to help Garrus carry Shepard into the ship. Luckily, at this hour, most everybody was either asleep or out around the Citadel, and those actually working were either pretending not to pay attention or just weren't, so they were able to drag Shepard to the elevator without question.
When they arrived at his cabin, Jacob finally saw the picture in question. Sure enough, on the commander's desk was the bright image of the woman Shepard drunkenly lamented, smirking with an attitude that Jacob was sure any man could appreciate. He still didn't think it was a good idea just leaving it there to upset Shepard more, but he knew that wasn't his call. It wasn't even Garrus's call. It was really, simply put, none of their damn business. Still, he hated to think that an otherwise upstanding soldier could be put into such a downward spiral like this. She must be one hell of a woman.
They gently placed Shepard face down on the edge of the bed, but before they could make a move to leave the cabin he rolled over and smiled lazily at them both.
"I love you guys," he slurred. "You guys're awesome."
Neither Jacob nor Garrus could hold back a chuckle. "Good night, Shepard," said Garrus, patting him on the shoulder. After making sure the commander was sound asleep again, they made their way out of the cabin.
On the elevator, the two exchanged glances, and they both smiled uncomfortably. For some time longer, neither said a word, and then Garrus piped up, "Hey, Jacob. Have you ever played a turian card game before?"