Chapter Text
She…
She has a son.
Garrus blinks at the realization, so painfully obvious now, and wonders how he hadn’t thought of that before.
Humans pack-bond with anything given enough feedback and time. Any. Thing. Turians are not quite the same. Yes, bonding outside family still occurs, but it’s not that far outside. It surprises him how easily humans adapt to new species, their mannerisms sometimes even shifting to match their alien interloper. He more than once has heard a human talking to a hanar in very gentle, paced tones and then later that day growling at a krogan and even headbutting him. That human is Shepard, yeah, but still.
His mind goes somewhere awkward and unwelcomed, linking the liquid of Grunt’s tank to amniotic fluid, and nope, not pursuing that line of thought. This moment to him is already far too weird.
Shepard is asking the clerk at Citadel Souvenirs how long it’ll take for the items she requested a few minutes ago to arrive at the shop, and if they can be shipped to the Normandy without having to come pick them up herself.
Dinosaur toys. ‘Action figures’, she calls them. And comic books. And--
But, wait, if Shepard is Grunt’s mom, does that make him his d…
Nope. Not thinking about that, either.