Author's Note: Yep, I know: awww.
It's not me - it's Tali's fault. She is just that cute. I try to tone down the cuteness, but that's just exactly how she actually is.
Tali, don't ever change.
Shepard had poured them both a drink a little while ago - he'd obtained a bottle of dextro-suitable alcohol from Gardener that afternoon, on the pretence of it being for when Garrus dropped by - and they were both sitting side by side on his couch, enjoying a comfortable lull in the conversation.
Tali reached for her glass and took a sip via a straw-like attachment she kept in one of the many small pockets in her suit. It sat in the glass, and automatically paired with a port on the mouthpiece of her helmet when it was brought close enough, releasing itself when it detected a drop in suction. To a casual observer, it was just like she had a flexible straw in her drink.
Their free hands were linked and rested on her thigh, and soft music was playing in the cabin.
"So," she said innocently, bringing him out of his reverie to glance at her, "do you know when you want to... tell people?"
He grinned. One drink, and already you're getting bold, he thought. He didn't mind the question at all, and indeed he knew they'd have to talk about it at some point; he was just all too aware of how reticent she usually was about things.
He could hear from her voice that she'd relaxed quite a bit, and that the drama of earlier had receded. He could also hear the hint of a grin, and he knew that she was fully aware that she was being somewhat presumptuous and daring. He loved that he could sense those things now, and he suddenly understood how quarian society could still function despite not being able to see facial expressions.
"Well," he said, in a mock serious tone, "I was thinking of sending round a memo saying that you'd be working in the captain's cabin from now on."
A fit of giggles overtook her, and she had to put her glass down for a moment. Eventually, she regained enough control to speak.
"As much as I'm sure you'd enjoy that, it might not be the best way to handle the situation," she said, with a grin in her voice.
He nodded, conceding the point.
"Got any ideas yourself?" he asked, squeezing her hand.
"I'm not sure," she said. "I... do want people to know, but... it's also really no-one's business but ours."
"So you want them to find out, rather than to be told," he said, nodding in agreement. "That's probably easier. But let's give it... I don't know. A day or two? A little while, anyway. I don't want to rub it in Miranda's face."
He glanced at her, wanting to make sure that she understood, and she nodded, taking another sip of her drink.
"I know," she replied. "I feel a little bad about that too. I feel like I want to apologize to her for how I've been thinking of her, but I can't do that unless she knows why."
He squeezed her hand again, unsure of what to say, then drained his glass in a single gulp.
"Top up?" he asked, releasing her hand and standing up, drawing a puzzled glance from her. "I mean, can I refill your glass?"
"Oh," she replied, "sure, thank you, John."
He smiled as he walked over to the makeshift drinks cabinet on a shelf near the bed.
"I like when you call me that," he said.
"I like it too," she replied. "It suits you. It's a strong name. And I like that only I get to use it."
He brought the two glasses, now full, back over to the couch and sat down. Tali thought for a moment before continuing.
"I don't have any other names left for just you to use, though," she said, contemplatively. "You've always called me Tali."
"Quarians don't have pet names?" Shepard asked, surprised.
"Pet names?" she replied, utterly confused. "We... don't keep animals on the flotilla, John; there's not enough room, and the hygiene-"
He laughed, shaking his head. "No, not that kind of pet; I mean nicknames that people give each other when they care about someone. Cute names? Humans call those 'pet' names too."
She looked at him for a moment, clearly nonplussed on several counts. "Well... not really. We... use our names. Nicknames like what?" she asked.
"Hmm," he replied, considering the question. "It depends on the people involved, and the type of relationship, and... I don't know. It's an individual thing. People just... come up with pet names, somehow."
She turned towards him, now clearly fascinated. "But like what?" she asked.
He scratched his head. "Uh... well, I mean... some people would say... I guess there are lots of common ones. Like, for example, you might call somebody... uh... pumpkin?"
He received a blank stare in response.
"... it's... actually, it's a... vegetable," he finished, lamely.
There was a moment of silence before they both burst out laughing.
"Humans name their dear ones after vegetables?" She shook with laughter, and it wasn't long before tears were rolling down Shepard's face too.
I guess it is pretty ludicrous, when you think about it, he realized.
For more than a full minute, they were both powerless to do anything but shake with laughter. He would think he was getting himself under control, then he'd hear an adorable little snort of laughter from her, and he'd be set off again. They had both put their drinks down, or else the couch would be covered in a mixture of levo and dextro-suitable alcohol.
"OK, no, it's not really like that," he said with great difficulty through a wide grin; "it's just about it sounding cute. I think that's what it's about. Anyway, you just know which name is right for someone. I don't know what the rules are, but it works."
She finished laughing and then looked at him. When she spoke, her voice had a by-now-familiar mock innocence. "So that must mean you know what name is right for me."
He nodded confidently. "Absolutely," he said.
She waited for a moment before poking him in the ribs. "Well what is it?" she demanded, playfully but with an unmistakeable note of anticipation.
"Well," he said, pausing dramatically, "you, Tali, are most definitely a... sweetheart."
She clasped her hands together in undisguised glee, feeling her heart thump in her chest, drawing a huge grin from him.
Sweetheart, she thought. It was a word she'd never heard before, so very human and so clearly affectionate. Even the tone of his voice changed when he said it; it made his voice smile, and he clearly identified her with it completely. A bizarre custom, but a truly wonderful one.
"I am... a sweetheart?" she asked, and yet again he felt the hammerblow of that unnamed, devastatingly powerful emotion hitting his chest.
"You're my sweetheart," he gently corrected with a smile, and she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely.
"I love being your sweetheart," she said.