The party was beginning to wind down by now, and while most of the guests had taken to crashing on the couches or extra beds, a few had taken to sprawling unceremoniously over the floors instead, making for a veritable obstacle course for Garrus and Shepard to reach the master bedroom. The home had been built for two, with very little privacy between rooms, and as such there did not seem to be any doors closing off one room from the next, including the master bedroom. Shepard giggled as Garrus began to pull her hoodie and shirt up over her head, tossing them aside on the bedroom floor as they collapsed onto the bed, her on top straddling him as they kissed, feverishly, their playful romp interrupted only by the sounds of his deep chuckles and little commentaries and her hushing him in a whispered voice while trying not to laugh, herself. Her pants were fast to go next, deftly unfastened and tossed aside with the rest of her clothes, his clawed fingers working effortlessly through her outer layers despite his intoxicated state.
He knew much better than she did the fastest way to take off his armour, and he was only too eager to guide her fingers to all the right points. Before long the hefty turian armour was on the floor alongside Shepard's clothes, the only thing still between them her bra and underwear, which Garrus was quick to make short work of. Hooking his clawed thumbs into the edges of her panties, he dragged them down her pale legs, leaving faint, pink lines in her flesh as he kissed his way from the bottom of her bra down her ribcage, past her navel, his mandibles tickling the now-sensitive skin of her exposed stomach, and on downward. As he reached the farthest point, Shepard gasped, letting out a soft exclamation before quickly stuffing her fist into her mouth to stop herself from making noise and waking up the other houseguests.
Moving her hand downward, she ran her fingers over the tough plating of his forehead, sliding her fingertips excitedly up his spines as far as she could reach as his sharp teeth scraped gently against her soft folds, his pointed, bird-like tongue exploring in ways that made her bite down on her fist to keep from crying out loud in unexpected pleasure. His mandibles fluttered against the edges, adding extra sensation, and Shepard could feel the skin of her knuckles straining under her teeth as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying her hardest not to disturb the peace. Her toes curled as he slid his hands up her thighs, her body tensing against his grasp, her legs shuddering as he delved lower, sending a chill of ecstasy up her spine, causing her back to arch off the bed. Then, with one last kiss, it was over, and Shepard's body finally relaxed again, her red, bite-marked hand dropping from her mouth to her side, clutching a handful of covers weakly as she breathed heavily, trying to recover.
Climbing up over her again, Garrus planted a kiss between her breasts, moving first up one side, and then the other. Shifting so he could reach the clasp on her back, Shepard allowed him to remove her bra and toss it aside with the rest of their clothes, before laying back again and watching as he kissed each exposed breast, his mouth playing coyly over each sensitive nipple. She bit back a hiss of pain as he kissed a bit more enthusiastically, not wanting to clue him in to her soreness, before gently guiding his face to her collarbone, and from there, her neck. He kissed up the length of her pale neck, under her chin, across the line of her jaw, forcing her to lift her head to receive the gently enthused kisses, and she ran her hand down the side of his throat, her fingers trailing over the sleek, cool scales, drawing a line down the plated spines at the back of his neck.
Using her free hand, Shepard reached down, feeling her way down the length of his abdomen to his pelvic sheath before sliding her fingers inside the folded flaps and touching the membrane inside. Garrus gasped, letting out a low, grunting moan, his body giving a shudder as she coaxed his member out of its sheath. Her fingers ran temptingly along the tender, slick shaft, causing the natural internalized cleansing fluid from the pocket to dribble down onto the sheet as he stood to throbbing attention. Burying his face in her neck, he draped his arm over her, gripping the sheet near her shoulder as she began to move her hand slowly up and down his length, the pad of her thumb caressing the sensitive membrane as he whimpered, letting out short, breathless huffs of pleasure as she pressed towards the bottom, his breath hot on her neck as she returned to the top.
His aseptic fluid coated her hand, dripping down the back of her wrist in thick, runny lines, and he moaned again, his body giving another shudder in response to her touch, before he pulled out of her hand, moving on top of her and kissing the side of her neck. His clawed fingers slid between her legs, searching, before finally finding what he wanted and sliding in easily, causing her to have to bite her lip to keep from letting out a loud, high-pitched moan of pleasure. Reaching up towards him, she took his head between her hands, arching her neck backward, before jerking her head indicatively towards the other side of the bed and breathing, "I'm on top."
They paced themselves slowly that evening so as not to wake up everyone around them. Once their positions had shifted, Shepard stayed on top, her hands pressed firmly against the pillows at either side of his head as she led their movement, rocking her hips against the curve of his body and feeling the support of his strong legs driving the repetitive, almost hypnotic motion. Every so often they would hear the sound of someone stirring, and she would quickly cup a hand over Garrus' mouth, shushing him, but, once the danger had passed, she would take it away again, replacing it with her lips and kissing him apologetically. He ran his hands lovingly over the outline of her form, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her hips before sliding around to her backside, grasping wantingly at the toned curves, letting out breathless huffs and grunts of pleasure every time his body met hers on the downward motion.
Shepard moaned with each re-entry, her hair pressed, wet, to the back of her neck as she lingered, before a shudder of excitement ran down her spine and she leaned in to kiss him again, the kiss broken only by her little gasps of ecstasy every time he hit her pleasure point. Leaning back again, she allowed him to take the lead on the motions, using her legs to ground her as he continued to press into her, slowly but vigorously. His hands moved around her form, first holding her ribcage, then sliding down to her hips, before finally passing over her stomach. At this, Shepard looked down, pulled suddenly from the moment at the feeling of his hands pressed against her tender stomach, and her legs suddenly went slack, her entire body losing its aroused rigidity as she stared at his hands on her abdomen. Realizing something was wrong, Garrus began to stop slowly, too, until finally they were simply sitting in still silence.
Still trying to catch her breath, Shepard moved her hands over Garrus', curling her fingers around the edges of his as she stared down at their hands pressed against her stomach, thoughtfully. Garrus stared at their hands for a moment as well, quietly, before looking up at Shepard again, as if expecting some sort of explanation for her unusual mannerisms. "Shepard?" he asked, frowning faintly, concerned. "Are… you okay?"
Shepard stared at their hands for a little while longer, pensive. Then, letting his hands drop away from her stomach again, she moved off of him onto the bed, laying on her back beside him and staring blankly up at the ceiling, expressionless. She stayed that way for a long time, saying nothing, until finally, she reached over, taking his arm in both hands, and pulled it across her nude chest, holding his hand against her face and letting out a long, soft sigh. "That boy," she told him, quietly. "The one I told you about, back on Earth. The one I couldn't save. I… did try to help him. I told him to come to me and I'd get him out of there, but he… he wouldn't. He wouldn't do it. I don't know why." Pressing his palm against her cheek, she frowned faintly, barely even noticing as he began to softly pass his thumb across her cheek, comforting her.
"He told me… he said… I couldn't help him," she said, her voice distant, as if she had never really considered the boy's wording before then. "Not that he wouldn't let me – but that I couldn't do it. And he was right. I couldn't help him. That Reaper killed him, that innocent little boy, and there was nothing I could do about it." Lowering her gaze, she stared down at their nude forms for another long, silent moment. "That one moment has haunted me more than almost anything else in this war so far," she finally spoke up again, quietly. "What if… what if that little boy is right? What if it's not just him, what… what if I can't save anyone? I never asked for people to depend on me the way they have – what if I fail all of them? All of you?"
"Hey, now," Garrus cooed, concerned, leaning over to press a gentle, worried kiss on the side of her face. "That doesn't sound like the Shepard I know. You've never worried about what other people said before – why start now? Lots of people have said you couldn't do things, but you did them anyway." He paused a moment, considering, before letting out a low, rumbling chuckle. "That's kind of your thing, actually," he told her, amused. "Doing things people tell you can't be done. You remember the suicide mission? They said it was impossible, but you did it without a single casualty. Who else could have pulled that off but Commander Shepard?"
"It's not the same thing, Garrus," Shepard countered, turning her head to look over at him. "I had all of you then. All of your help, and expertise. We were a team, and we pulled through as a team. This… this is just me. My shortcomings. My failings." Falling silent, she looked up at the ceiling again, passing a distracted hand slowly over her exposed stomach before finally letting it come to rest. "I want a baby," she suddenly spoke up again, quietly. "But… a planned baby. One on my own terms. One I know I can take care of, because I'm prepared to take care of it. I don't want to be stuck with one. Unable to care for it. That would be…" Staring blankly up at the ceiling, she ran the pad of her thumb across the cool, rough scaling of the hand against her cheek. "…Terrible," she finished, sadly.
Garrus paused, surprised by this unusual, seemingly random concern, but before he could say anything about it, Shepard turned to look at him, raising her brows, intent. "Garrus," she said. "If we could have a baby… the two of us, a human-turian baby…"
"…Okay," Garrus agreed, hesitant but intrigued.
"What… would you like to have?" Shepard asked, trying her hardest not to sound genuinely concerned about what he might say on the matter.
Garrus thought on this a moment, unsure how to answer what appeared to be a loaded question. Then, purring gently, he shifted his body against hers, snuggling up closer to her on the bed. "Mmm… I'd want a girl, I think," he told her, nuzzling his face into the slope of her neck, his mandibles tickling against the line of her shoulder. "Yeah. A little girl. Call her Solana, like my sister. Or maybe Solara. Mix it up a little bit." Taking a deep breath, he slid his other arm under her shoulders, drawing her in towards him, so close he was almost speaking directly into her ear. "She'd have… hair like yours," he told her. "Have to. And… my eyes, of course. My… chin."
"Your chin?" Shepard repeated, incredulous, quirking a brow.
"What's wrong with my chin?" Garrus asked, chuckling. "It's a good chin. Good, strong feature. Anybody would be lucky to have it."
"Including our little girl?" Shepard asked, smirking.
"Especially our little girl," Garrus confirmed, closing his eyes and moving in closer towards her. "She'd have, oh… your hands. But my feet."
"Wow," Shepard said, grinning, amused.
"She'd have my… debonair charm," Garrus went on. "And your… unparalleled dancing capabilities."
"You're a jerk," Shepard laughed, wrinkling up her nose.
"Oh, I'm not done yet," Garrus assured her. "She'd also have your nose… but my mouth. And your ears."
"You realize what you're describing is basically a monster," Shepard told him, simultaneously amused and horrified by the proverbial Frankenstein creature he was concocting.
"A pretty monster," Garrus corrected her, pointedly. "With nice hair."
Shepard chuckled gently, reaching over to pull his face towards her and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Right," she said, agreeable, letting him go again. "With nice hair. Of course." Laying back again, she nuzzled her cheek into the palm of his hand, sliding her bare foot over the length of his rough, scaly leg, her toes curling around the spike at the back of his calf. In return, he slid his knee under her leg, entwining them, one over the other. "I think I'd like to have a boy," she suddenly spoke up again, staring up at the ceiling, thoughtfully.
"Oh, no," Garrus assured her, shaking his head. "You don't want a boy. Nobody wants a boy. Boys are terrible." Rolling back onto his back as well, he retrieved the hand that had been laid across her to rest it against his own chest, drumming thoughtfully as he stared up at the ceiling. "Just ask my poor, long-suffering sister," he added, chuckling. "Boys are bad news."
"What's wrong with a boy?" Shepard asked, turning onto her stomach to look up at him. Resting her arm across his chest, she settled her chin into the crook of her elbow, smiling up into his face, expectantly.
"Well," Garrus told her, pragmatically. "For one, if we have a boy, he'd probably end up looking like me, and nobody deserves that."
"You're so mean," Shepard laughed, unable to help herself.
"And for another," Garrus went on, undeterred. "Do you know that turians have three testicles? Three. If he ended up having exterior genetalia like humans do and he went to school with the other human children, do you have any idea how many weird awkward questions he'd have to answer when he got older? Old enough to start having a personal life?"
"Krogan have four testicles," Shepard reminded him, raising her brows. "And they have outside genetalia. It's not so strange."
"Oh, well, then," Garrus laughed, incredulous. "The next time I come across a human-krogan child I'll be sure to tell him that. Were you intending on having some of those? Expand the family a little more?"
"No," Shepard laughed back, embarrassed.
"Good," Garrus purred, leaning over her to press another fond kiss against her lips. "I think our baby might get jealous otherwise."
"Our weird, mish-mash… redheaded baby," Shepard chuckled, smiling up at him.
"Solara," Garrus agreed.
"Right," Shepard said, snuggling up to him with a soft laugh. "Solara." A moment of peaceful silence fell between them as they lay in bed together, staring up at the ceiling of the apartment. It felt strange, domestic almost, and completely out of character for her. Shepard was the type of woman who trained herself to drink her coffee black just so she would not have to waste extra time preparing it, and preferred pets without individual personalities so she could replace them easily when they inevitably died. To her, everything was temporary, and everything was fleeting, but this apartment, as Anderson had told her, had been bought for a man and a woman hoping to spend the rest of their lives together, and as she lay in this marital bed, enormous by comparison to the tiny, firm military-issue beds she was used to, she felt inexplicably out of place, like a stranger in her own home. However, despite all this, she also could not help the feeling that something about it felt oddly, unexplainably right.
Letting out a soft, tired sigh, Shepard turned over onto her side, nestling her head against Garrus' shoulder as she stared tenderly up into his face. "We are such a weird couple," she observed, amused. "A human and a turian. When I was younger I never would have guessed I'd end up here."
"Oh, I think you were always destined to be a little weird," Garrus joked back, chuckling gently. "As long as I've known you, I don't think you've ever been in a relationship with another human. Then again, I didn't really start paying attention until about a year ago, so…"
"Come on, now," Shepard insisted, shaking her head. "I was normal once. Jacob and I, you remember? We had a… thing, once."
"Mhmm," Garrus returned, sarcastic. "And by a 'thing' you mean you did it a couple times in the armoury and then never bothered getting in contact again."
"I… lost his number," Shepard explained.
"You're such a liar," Garrus laughed, leaning down to playfully kiss her stomach, causing her to roll over onto her back again with a soft, surprised laugh.
"Yeah, well, if it weren't for you I'd probably be pursuing Vega," Shepard told him, teasingly. "And I bet he'd be into it, too. So play nice. You can always be replaced."
Pulling himself upright again, Garrus moved over her, purring, a deep, throbbing hum in the back of his throat, before leaning down and beginning to graze the side of her neck with soft, adoring kisses. "You can't replace me," he told her, playfully. "I'm irreplaceable." Then, stopping in his kissing, he lay down beside her, his arm still curled around her, his avian blue gaze level with hers, telling. "You called us a couple," he told her, pointedly.
Shepard hesitated, staring over at him, suddenly realizing that he was right. "I—I mean," she said, hurriedly. "That's what you call two people. We're two people—"
"No, no, there are other words for that," Garrus corrected her, his voice a deep, contented rumble. "A pair, or a match, or a twosome – couple has a very specific connotation. You called us a couple."
"Well…" Shepard hesitated again, biting her lip, before finally asking, hopefully, "…Aren't we?"
Garrus considered this, tilting his head playfully side to side, before finally nodding, accordingly. "Mmyes," he told her, grinning at her. "I'd like to think we are. But only if you say it's so."
"Then I say it's so," Shepard answered, reaching over to cup his face fondly between her hands. "So says Commander Shepard. The first human Spectre."
"Oh, well," Garrus laughed softly in return, impressed. "You can't get it on much better authority than that. I guess it must be true." Then, leaning in towards her, he kissed her again, gently, before pressing his forehead dotingly against hers, nuzzling their noses together with a soft, deep purr.
"Thank you, Garrus," Shepard told him, smiling softly at his affections.
"For what?" Garrus asked.
"For this," Shepard answered, frankly, lifting her head to gently kiss his nose. "For… everything."
"Well, in that case, the same to you, Shepard," Garrus told her. Then, gently pulling her in towards him, he cradled her head affectionately against his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head, fitting them together like pieces of a puzzle. "Goodnight, Shepard," he told her, gently.
"Goodnight, Garrus," Shepard said.
Artificial sunlight streamed in through the slatted windows of the apartment, a slow-building, timer-operated brightening telling everyone in the Citadel it was time to wake up and face the new day. The sheets of the master bed rustled indignantly as the light gradually made its way into to the bedroom, shining in through the open archways and creeping its way up the length of the bed. Garrus groaned in response, quickly moving to pull the sheets up and over his head, enveloping the two of them in a sort of fabric cocoon in a vain attempt to put off the morning for as long as humanly possible. Shepard opened her eyes, pulling one arm from around his broad carapace to gently press it to the side of his face, running the pad of her thumb tenderly over his raised cheekbone. Then, leaning in towards him, she pressed a soft kiss to his nose, which warranted only a short, tired grunt in return.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she told him, gently, unable to keep from smiling.
"Is it morning already?" Garrus returned, letting out a low, soft groan. "That can't be right… come back to bed, and morning can try again in, say… three more hours?"
"Time waits for no man," Shepard reminded him, giving a soft chuckle.
"Well, you're a woman," Garrus informed her, pragmatically. "And I'm a turian. Neither of us fit that description."
"I'm gonna make some coffee," Shepard told him, pushing the covers away and sliding her legs out of bed. "I don't think Anderson has any coffee stocked that you can drink, but I'll see if I can find anything, anyway."
"Some headache medication would be nice," Garrus proposed, his voice becoming muffled as he slowly dragged the covers back over his head again. "And maybe some dextro Tupari, if you can find it."
Shepard pulled on her underwear, making a note to change into a new pair as soon as she got back on the Normandy, before sliding on and clasping her bra, noting not only the sharp, pinching pain, but also the fact that what had once fit perfectly into her cups was now beginning to spill over the top, almost disconcertingly. Gathering up the rest of her clothes from where they had been haphazardly scattered across the bedroom floor, she started to make her way towards the master bathroom, noting with some level of concern the fact that one pair of men's underwear was still lying on the floor beside the hot tub. Not wanting to touch the offending piece, she decided it would probably be best to just leave it alone until whoever it belonged to figured out it was missing of their own accord, and hopefully came to retrieve their missing garment.
Downstairs in the apartment was almost startlingly quiet compared to the party atmosphere it had held the night before. A modest, cheerful fire still crackled in the digital fireplace as Shepard made her way into the kitchen, starting up the coffee-maker and setting it to prepare a large, strong cup. The only other person who seemed to be awake at the moment appeared to be Zaeed, who sat sprawled comfortably on the couch facing the fireplace, watching the digital flames crackle with an intense look of deep, if tired, thought. It did not take long before the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee filled the kitchen, and Shepard quickly retrieved her mug from the machine, blowing on the liquid to cool it before taking a tentative sip and turning to head back into the living-room to join Zaeed in front of the fireplace.
As she passed the doorway leading from the kitchen into the barroom, however, she suddenly paused, noticing the jar of sugar crystals sitting on the edge of the bar where Miranda had left them. She hesitated, her fingers curling anxiously around the warm edge of her coffee-cup, knowing that it was completely out of character for her to even think about putting additives in her coffee. It wasted time, and the coffee served its purpose to wake her up whether it tasted good or bitter. But for some reason, this morning, she could not shake the feeling that she wanted to try it. And so, stirring her newly-sweetened coffee with a neon straw from the bar, Shepard finally left the barroom, making her way back into the living-room as she had intended and dropping herself down on the couch next to Zaeed with a hefty, tired sigh.
"Where is everybody?" Shepard asked, conversationally, blowing on her cup of coffee again before taking a sip. With the added sugar, the coffee was a bit too saccharine for her taste, but she decided to ignore the sweetness as the vitalizing pick-me-up made its way down, warming her up as it went. At least now she could say she had tried it, even if she had not particularly liked it. There was always a first time for everything.
"No idea," Zaeed answered her question, truthfully. "All I really know is that Samara was gone when I woke up. I assume she must've gotten up early and left to go back to… whatever it is she does, Christ only knows. Justifer business, what have you."
"Justicar," Shepard corrected quickly.
"Don't be a goddamn know-it-all," Zaeed told her, bluntly, turning to look over at her.
"Sorry," Shepard amended, taking another sip of coffee. "How do you know Samara got up early? Maybe she left last night while the rest of us were busy doing other things."
"No, she was here last night," Zaeed told her, shaking his head.
"How do you know?" Shepard asked, looking up at him, interested.
Zaeed paused, staring at the fireplace, thoughtfully, before finally making a face and turning his mismatched gaze towards Shepard again. "Do I really have to spell it out for you, Shepard?" he asked, sounding almost pained.
"But—oh," Shepard said, feeling suddenly very stupid for not picking up on it earlier. "But I thought… I thought you said she wasn't interested in snuggling…?"
"She wasn't," Zaeed agreed, offhandedly, turning his attention to the fire again. "I never said she wasn't interested in other things, though."
"Oh," Shepard answered, awkwardly, unsure what else there was to say on the matter.
"Yeah," Zaeed agreed, just as shortly. "I noticed you and Garrus weren't exactly being subtle about your goings-on, either. But I suppose that's to be expected. It kind of turned into a free for all last night after the party died down."
"How do you mean?" Shepard asked, tentatively.
"I mean it was a bloody orgy last night, 's what I mean," Zaeed informed her, bluntly, holding up his hands as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Couldn't take a trip to the goddamn bathroom without somebody sounding like a fucking dying animal somewhere along the way. Nightmarish, really."
"Wait a minute, wait – what?!" Shepard asked him, mortified, not really sure if she even wanted to know the answer to the question. "How many people were having sex in my house?!"
"Oh, a lot," Zaeed was quick to answer. "Yeah. A bunch of people were getting it on, all over. Uhh, there was, uh… Vega, was having sex with Williams, ehrm… Joker and his robot lady friend, they were… oh, and T'Soni, T'Soni was having sex with, um… Java, or Jervik, or… whatever his name was…"
"Javik?" Shepard asked, taken aback.
"Yeah, that's the one," Zaeed agreed, pointing at her indicatively. "Javik. They were having sex."
"Oh my god," Shepard answered, lifting a surprised hand to cover her mouth.
"Grunt fell asleep in the shower," Zaeed went on, his gaze straying thoughtfully as he pointed vaguely in the direction of the upstairs bathroom. "Uhh, Taylor I think left for the evening before things got too rowdy, but I did see a couple others who ended up staying the night… Krios slept on one of the couches, but he got up early and left before you got up… didn't drink as much as the rest of us, I guess, or the drell's got balls of fucking steel."
"What about Wrex?" Shepard asked, remembering the ruckus the krogan had been causing at the party the night before.
"Wrex stayed the night," Zaeed confirmed, nodding. "Slept on one of the couches as well… Oh, there was a three-girl pileup in one of the guest beds. Tali, Traynor, and Goto, I think. Fully clothed, if you'll imagine my disappointment." Frowning then, he turned to look at Shepard again, twisting his scarred mouth discouragedly to one side. "Why do girls do that?" he asked, frustrated. "Sleep together like that and not do anything kinky?"
"To disappoint guys like you, I guess," Shepard joked.
"Well, it's bloody working," Zaeed grunted, vexed. "Lawson and Jack slept in the same bed together, fully clothed as well – sleeping head to foot, if you'll imagine. Opposite ends. Not even snuggling."
"I'm not surprised," Shepard returned, shrugging.
"Cortez took a couch as well," Zaeed told her, giving a soft sigh. "Shocking how many couches you've got in this place, really. And beds. And… weird… art displays."
"To be fair, I didn't pick out the art displays," Shepard told him. "Those were here when I got here. If it were up to me, it would probably be something different."
"Life-sized posters of Blasto, perhaps?" Zaeed guessed, chuckling. "Maybe some Fornax printouts? From their swimsuit edition, naturally. Only the tasteful stuff."
"Of course," Shepard agreed, smirking. The conversation faded out again as the two lapsed into silence once more, staring at the digital fireplace as it flickered and crackled in the display. "Zaeed," Shepard suddenly spoke up again, wetting her lips anxiously as she set her coffee-mug down on the low glass-top table in front of them. "Can you keep a secret?"
"No," Zaeed answered immediately.
Shepard faltered, taken aback by the candidness of his reply, and frowned faintly as she tried to figure out if he were joking. With Zaeed's gruff, off-kilter, often dark sense of humour, she sometimes found it hard to tell when he was being serious or not. "I figure there's no point in not letting you in on this," she finally said, deciding she was better off trusting him. "Especially since everyone's probably going to figure it out for themselves soon enough anyway."
"Get on with it, Shepard," Zaeed pressed, impatiently. "I'm already an old man."
"I'm pregnant," Shepard told him, completely frank.
Zaeed stared at the fireplace for a long moment, seeming almost not to have heard her at first. "I know," he finally returned, unaffected.
"No, I mean…" Shepard sighed, exasperated, letting her hands drop, open-palmed, into her lap. "I'm not kidding, Zaeed," she told him, seriously. "It's not a joke. I'm… actually… I'm honestly… pregnant."
Zaeed paused, taking in a deep breath, before finally nodding his grizzled head, his expression unchanging. "Yeah," he said, turning to look at her, his expression frank. "Shepard. I know."
Shepard hesitated, startled by this revelation, and for a long time she could only stare at the mercenary in shocked silence. "You know?" she finally asked, frowning, trying hard to keep her voice low despite her mixed confusion and frustration. "How did you know? Or, wait—how long have you known?"
"A couple weeks," Zaeed admitted, shrugging his broad, tattooed shoulders lazily. "At least. You learn these things, Shepard. You learn to – you look for the signs. They're there, even if most people can't see them." Stretching his legs out in front of him, he groaned, leaning back into the cushions of the couch as he stared at the holographic flames flickering peacefully in the digitized fireplace. "Didn't say anything about it 'cause I figured it wasn't really my goddamn business, all things considered," he added, shaking his head, offhandedly. "Guessed you probably didn't want too many people knowing about it, considering who the father likely is. Fraternization between superior officers and their lower-ranked subordinates, yadda-yadda chain of command… all that military mumbo-jumbo." Folding his hands comfortably behind his head, he let out another soft, contented grunt. "Figured it was important to you to keep it secret, so I kept it secret," he told her, honestly. "Really all there is to it."
"But then why…" Shepard's confused frown deepened as she shook her head, crossing her arms vexedly over her chest. "Why, if you were trying to keep it a secret, did you tell Verner – Verner, of all people – that I was pregnant? You had to know he would go spreading that like wildfire."
"That was the plan," Zaeed answered, turning to look at her, evenly. "Start a rumour about it to cover up the fact that it's actually happening. Sort of a preemptive strike, if you will. Therein lies the genius. Plant the seed of the rumour with the least reliable person in the entire galaxy, and watch as he tries to spread it." Jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the upstairs bedrooms, where they could still hear Wrex snoring loudly, he smirked, self-satisfied. "You saw what sort of reaction hearing it from Verner garnered from Wrex and them," he told her. "People know you, Shepard. They know you're not about to go spreading your legs for some boot-licking Cerberus dropout. So, naturally, when they hear from someone known for his exaggeration and hero-worship fanaticism that you're expecting his forbidden love child, they're going to toss that idea away faster than a third-generation Fornax mag."
"That's…" Shepard faltered, her expression slowly beginning to clear, before looking up at Zaeed again, a small, impressed smile beginning to move across her lips. "That's actually really smart."
"Don't sound so surprised, now," Zaeed scolded, chuckling as he arched one scarred brow at her, returning his hand to behind his head. "You underestimate this old dog, Shepard. He's still got a few tricks up his sleeves." Another long silence followed this, in which Shepard and Zaeed both stared at the digital fireplace. It had been much easier than she had expected to tell him her secret – in fact, with the exception of Garrus, every person she had told thus far had felt almost like telling a member of her family. She had expected panic, harsh judgement, and for people to try to distance themselves from her, not wanting to be caught up in the freakshow of her predicament. Instead, thus far, with almost every person she had let in on her situation, she had been met with nothing but offers of assistance and an unspoken understanding that when she told the world – if she told the world – it would be her choice to do so, and hers, alone.
Even Miranda, who made no secret of the fact that the whole situation unsettled her, had only expressed concern for Shepard in her own, particular way. Shepard knew the predicament was harder for her than most, considering her own inability to bear children, but, despite this, and despite her own feelings on the matter, she had freely provided Shepard with resources in order to allow her the chance to decide what she wanted to do with the life she held.
"So when are you planning on telling him?" Zaeed asked, turning his head to look over at her again.
At this, Shepard frowned, staring intently down at her knees. "I was going to tell him last night," she admitted, stuffing her hands self-consciously into the pockets of her hoodie and letting them curl gently around the base of her baby bump. "I had hoped the alcohol would make the news easier to swallow. Which is completely cowardly of me, I admit, but…" She paused, screwing up her face, anxious. "I've never really been good at delivering bad news," she said, honestly. "Either everyone gets really upset with me – but, hey, don't kill the messenger, you know? – or, nobody believes me… or people get really overly emotional, and I don't have any idea how to deal with…" Pulling her hands from her pockets, she made a fruitless, indicative gesture, before finally giving up and allowing her hands to return to her lap. "That," she said, frustrated.
"So you lost your nerve," Zaeed said, giving a short, dismissive grunt. "It happens to the best of us."
"I know, but… I can't keep hiding it, Zaeed," Shepard told him, turning to look at him, worriedly. "One of these days he's going to figure it out. He's not stupid, he's… he's really smart."
At this, Zaeed snorted, loudly, before clearing his throat and turning his attention quickly back to the fireplace. "Yeah," he agreed, coughing pointedly. "Right. Okay."
"Stop that," Shepard scolded, giving a soft, worried breath of a laugh. "He's not stupid. He just doesn't know that it's even possible for us to have…" Making a face, she held out a hand, indicative, trying to think of how to word her statement, before finally letting it drop back again with a heavy, frustrated sigh. "We don't… work… that way," she finally said, awkwardly. "He and I… we can't have a baby together. Or, we shouldn't. We shouldn't be having a baby together. But… here we are. And I don't know how to explain that to him without sounding totally and completely insane."
"Well, it shouldn't be that hard," Zaeed reasoned, holding out a hand, helpfully. "I saw you two talking last night, flirting and what have you. Seemed to be having a good enough time. I'm sure he'll come around eventually if you just tell him about it. He's a good guy." He paused, folding his arm back again, before giving another short shrug. "A bit on the slow side," he added. "A touch stubborn. But I can see why you keep him around."
"He says he wants kids," Shepard said, looking up at him, optimistically. "Once this war is over."
"Lucky him," Zaeed returned, bluntly.
"Did you get a chance to talk to him at all last night?" Shepard asked, hopefully. "Maybe get a feel for how he's doing? He doesn't like to worry me about personal things, but I was hoping maybe he'd be willing to talk more freely about it to a friend—"
"Who, me?" Zaeed asked, looking over at her, surprised. "Nah, I don't talk to Vega that much. I think he's a bit intimidated by me, truth be told. Seems like a good enough kid, though." Taking in a deep, sharp breath through his nose, he cleared his throat, fixing his attention on the digital fireplace. "I should probably get on that," he added, thoughtfully. "Seeing as he's about to be the Commander's baby daddy and all."
"Vega?" Shepard repeated, surprised. She paused a moment, thinking this over, before finally nodding and looking away again. "Yeah," she agreed, deciding it was not worth pursuing. "Vega's a pretty good kid." They stared at the fire in silence for a while, the muffled rustling of sheets and squeaking of springs reaching their ears as a few other overnight guests began to slowly wake up. Sliding her foot over towards Zaeed, Shepard kicked the mercenary lightly in the shin, barely tapping his armour but still managing to get his attention. "Hey," she told him. "You're still gonna stick around after I have this kid, right? Be Great Uncle Zaeed, on call for babysitting duty?"
"Of course," Zaeed answered assuredly, giving a gruff, agreeable chuckle. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
"I'm serious, Zaeed," Shepard returned. "If I do keep this baby, I won't be able to do this stuff on my own."
"Who's joking?" Zaeed informed her, turning his mismatched gaze over to her. "Not me. I love babies. Though, perhaps lighten up on the Great stuff. Maybe just Uncle Zaeed for the time being. I'm not that old just yet."
"Zaeed…" Shepard started to say.
"What?" Zaeed insisted, half-affronted but still smiling. "You think a grizzled old geezer like me's too tough and scary to like things like that? Liking babies is too 'girly', or what have you?" Letting out an incredulous grunt, he waved a dismissive hand in her direction, turning his attention back to the fireplace. "Don't be so shallow," he told her, shaking his head. "Little tiny hands and feet – who doesn't love that? Precious. Goddamn precious."
"I just… never really thought about you as a baby person, I guess," Shepard admitted, now a little sheepish that she had been so quick to judge him. Looking down at her boots again, she was quiet for a moment, listening to the sound of the digital fireplace crackling. Then, suddenly realizing something, she looked up at Zaeed again, her brow furrowing in a faint, confused line. "Wait a minute," she said, causing him to look up at her again, attentive. "Cuteness of babies aside, how do you know what signs to look for? Is there something I don't know about you, Zaeed?"
Zaeed paused, playing with his scarred lips, before finally giving a soft, thoughtful snort. "Well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Shepard," he admitted, offhanded. "But this one's not really that big a secret. I've got a little girl back on Triton. Beautiful little thing, gorgeous blue eyes. Looks just like her mother." He hesitated then, considering this, before looking away and frowning a bit, his mouth drawing into a firm, meditative line. "Haven't seen her in years, to be honest," he added, shaking his head. "She's probably grown like a weed by now."
Shepard stared at him for a moment, raising her brows, curious. "How come you've never told me about her before?" she finally asked.
Zaeed shrugged, indifferent. "Didn't seem important," he answered, frankly. "Wasn't ever a decent point in conversation for it to come up. People don't generally go around talking about their kids without having a reason to. Or if they do it's bloody annoying, and… well, I didn't want to be That Person."
"What's her name?" Shepard asked, intrigued.
"Zelda," Zaeed answered simply, looking over at her again, this time raising his scarred brows. "Yeah. Zed for short."
"Zed," Shepard repeated, surprised, smiling for what felt like the first time in a long while.
"Yeah," Zaeed replied, offering her a soft, knowing half-smirk in return. "Now you know where it comes from." Turning his gaze towards the fireplace again, he stared at the digital flames for a long moment, seemingly deep in thought, before lacing his tattooed fingers lazily across his abdomen and taking in a deep, meditative breath. "I really hope the baby ends up looking like you," he told her, causing her to look up at him again, surprised. "Because his father is one ugly son of a bitch."
Shepard hesitated, taken aback by this odd, seemingly random observation, before realizing that, coming from Zaeed, this unusual statement was likely intended as a compliment. In truth, it was the closest Zaeed had ever come to telling her – in his own gruff, roundabout way – that he thought she was attractive, and she knew it would probably be the closest she would ever come to hearing it from him again. "Thanks, Zaeed," she told him, offering him an amused, understanding smile. "That's really nice of you to say."
"Anytime, Shepard," Zaeed assured her. "Anytime."