Zaeed/Chakwas, in the med bay.
"Ouch!"
"Sit still." Dr. Chakwas rolled her eyes. Her job would be so much easier if it wasn't for the patients. Half of them would happily wade into a hail of bullets, but cringed at the sight of a needle.
"How did this happen?" she asked.
Zaeed snorted. "Tripped and fell on a bullet. What do you think?"
"Hmph. Of course someone shot you. How could they resist?"
His grumbling didn't really bother her. In her time, she'd operated on krogan crankier than this and come out without a scratch. Zaeed Massani was a purring kitten compared to that. But when he was annoyed, there was a rather attractive snarl in his voice, and she found herself accidentally-on-purpose trying to bring it out.
Zaeed shifted irritably, and the bed creaked in protest. Chakwas made a mental note to have that fixed.
She prodded a sore spot on his thigh. He jumped. "Son of a..."
"Oh, be quiet. The commander never complains, and I've patched up worse for her."
"She complains all the goddamn time. You just get off on torturing people."
"You have no idea what gets me off, Mr. Massani. Now sit still."
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Blessed silence reigned for the space of about two minutes.
"Watch where you're poking that, devil woman," he growled.
"Stop squirming, or I might hit something important."
"Sadist."
"Grouch."
She finished up as quickly as she could, and if she poked a little harder than necessary, no one had to know. As she shooed him out the door, she couldn't help but smirk. He might deny it, but she knew that someday, those beds were going to be used for something a lot less medicinal.