Work Text:
Zaeed can’t dance, doesn’t do poetry, and wouldn’t know whether to buy flowers or candy on any given day.
Ama isn’t much of a romantic herself, and he figures she’ll find flowers and candy useless anyway. So, instead, he just gets her more ammo for that devastating pistol of hers.
She likes it well enough, and she’s a bit impressed that he’s able to procure so goddamn much of the stuff. He tries to downplay it as pragmatism, citing that she needs to modify the damn thing to carry more ammo, or use a real fucking rifle like the soldier she is, and she watches him go over the specs.
He always does that in place of affection. It’s his way.
“Thanks, Massani,” she says with a knowing smirk, “You always know just what I need.”
Zaeed grunts in reply, hands her back the gun. As she holsters it, she shuts her eyes against a memory. Thane calls it solipsism, and she calls it a nightmare. Maybe it’s a side-effect of her interfacing with Prothean tech, maybe it’s just nerves, but these flashbacks–disjointed, garish, and jarring against the backdrop of the present–interfere with her long enough for Zaeed to notice.
“It doesn’t stop.” He says, answering a question Ama has been too afraid to ask. “You know that. Best thing you can do is try to stay awake. Stay here in the present. Remember it’s already happened and there’s fuck all you can do to change it.”
Ama doesn’t understand for a moment and she blinks rapidly, breathing deep.
He’s right. The memories are just that: memories. She can’t bring back the dead, she can’t change the past. She can recompense the living by destroying the Reapers. It’s all anyone can ask of her. It’s all she’ll allow anyone to ask of her anymore.
He sees her face change, and there’s a look of grim approval on his.
I always thought you were beautiful.
In this moment, looking as determined to gut someone as he’s ever seen her, Zaeed recalls the confession and smiles. Ama hesitates, and still holding the pistol in her hands, leans up on her toes to kiss him on the corner of his mouth.
Zaeed thinks perhaps he’s wrong about that romance thing. Maybe she’s a bit soft in the middle after all.