A/N: I just recently started my first ME2 run with my Renegon FemShep Eliza, and realised how damn perfect for her Zaeed would be. Bioware clearly doesn't agree with this line of thinking, so I've written this little ficlet as an attempt to study their relationship a little further.
(I'm also an unapologetic Kaidan fangirl, and due to aforementioned Bioware oversight, Eliza will end up staying loyal to him for ME3. No bashing taking place here, I'm afraid.)
All thoughts and comments welcome.
Zaeed waited for her to come to him.
He knew she would, he had the scratch marks on his back to prove it. It was just a matter of when.
They'd got back from Horizon several hours ago and Shepard had disappeared to her quarters without even bothering with a debrief. He was no idiot, knew the Alenko kid had wormed his way under skin he'd previously thought impenetrable.
But the fact that he hadn't seen the reality of it coming the minute they got out of the shuttle and Shepard had raced through the abandoned colony like her life depended on it - well, it left an odd churning sensation in his gut.
He hated it, couldn't shift it, didn't quite know what to do with himself. He'd already made six new holes in the wall opposite his favourite leaning spot - one of his shots even uncharacteristically off target when he'd been distracted by her walking out of the elevator towards engineering.
He wasn't sure how appalled to be that she'd chosen to see Jack before him.
He wasn't used to being her last choice.
Not to mention the ease with which he'd fallen into accepting their odd little relationship. It should have alarmed him more than it did.
When she did walk into Starboard Cargo she stopped just far enough in for the door to shut behind her. She didn't look at him for a good minute and he drank her in greedily - she'd put on a set of standard-issue Cerberus fatigues for the first time and looked about as comfortable in them as she had planetside earlier that day. They were clearly new and she looked almost resigned to the presence of the yellow logo on her arms.
Shepard hadn't been quiet about her distrust of the organisation who'd brought her back. Zaeed had read the Akuse round-ups, and caught the later chatter about the attack being engineered by none other than good ol' Cerberus. That suggestion had obviously taken root in her mind all those years ago, given the way she'd refused to associate herself with them sartorially in the past few weeks.
But then that damn Alliance prick down on Horizon had accused her of being all the worst things under the sun and apparently aligning with the devil no longer seemed like such a bad thing.
Hell, who was he to talk? Look at the signature on his paycheck.
He cleared his throat and she looked up at him, her red-tinged eyes intensifying the irritating discomfort in his stomach.
Then she across the room and on him, forearm across his shoulders forcing him back into the wall as her lips met his, all teeth and tongue and undisguised lust. He didn't allow her to take control, not even for a second, running a hand up her back to wind in her hair as he fought her every move.
Suddenly he tightened his grip and yanked her head back sharply, forcing her eyes to meet his. "I ain't your rebound guy."
"I let people burn for you Massani, you'll be whatever I want you to be." She spat, running a suggestive hand down his chestplate. "Besides, haven't heard you complaining these past three weeks."
"Nothing to complain about doll." He smirked. "But that was before I knew I was a placeholder for the Alliance Poster Boy."
She narrowed her eyes, not expecting to hear this. "What do you mean?"
"Alenko's lined up to be the next human Spectre, so I hear."
He watched her reaction closely. Her gaze lowered to where her hand rested against his armour but it was impossible to miss the fierce flash of pride in the depths of her eyes. It was gone almost as soon as it formed, leaving a cruel imitation of a smile on her face. "If anyone can chase away the shame of my failed appointment it'd be him."
If he were a better man - one of Taylors, Donnellys or shit, even Jokers of this world - he would have checked if she wanted to talk it out. But three weeks had taught him well enough what she needed him for and it sure as hell wasn't talking.
"That your type then?" Zaeed pressed, hands straying to her ass to pull her tighter against him despite the solid barrier between them. "Loyal, eager to please little lapdogs?"
"Don't have a type, Massani." Shepard countered, hands moving to the releases of his armour. "You should know that better than anyone. Aren't you the gossip around here?"
He groaned, allowing his head to drop back against the metal wall. "Heard about you and the damn consort. Stopped believing it once you started coming down here on a regular basis."
Shepard grinned wickedly, dropping to her knees in front of him. She openly enjoyed the intensification of the burning desire in his gaze as he looked down at her - she didn't give up her power so blatantly very often. "It was very... enlightening. Taught me quite a bit." She said, starting on the seals on his lower body.
"Gonna share?" He asked, breath hissing out from between his teeth as her hands found him, hard and aching for her touch.
"Not really translatable." She replied, concentrating on the movement of her hands. Then she quirked an eyebrow, looking up at him with a coyness that wasn't fooling either of them. "But I'll give it my best shot."