A fill for Mass Effect Kink Meme.

The prompt was:
Ok just remembered how shep refuses to give up his guns on the Purgatory ship that line was funny! This anon would like to see a shep who has separation anxieties over his/her guns being removed, they actually feel very vulnerable and naked without them. Shep has to keep at least two guns on him or her at all times even when on the ship just walking around!
They even have multiple guns hidden in their room under the desks, in the shower, hidden between the bed and nightstands you get get the idea. If shep has LI featured would prefer Garrus (w/fshep) or Tali (w/Mshep). I want a mix of humor and angst.

Rated M for mature theme that, oddly enough, is not an euphemism for sex, at least not this time.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single marine in possession of a good gun, must be in want of more guns.

That's what Garrus thought, anyway. Because the only other option would be facing the fact, that Shepard had some major issues.

He sat up on the bed and retrieved the modded Carnifex from under the pillow. It was heavily customised, with smart rounds, old fashioned recoil dumper and improved heat distribution. Pretty sweet, really. He would be all over it, if not for the fact he found it when the barrel dug into his temple when he lied down.

He looked around the room warily. It was the third time he found a gun lying around in an unusual place, and it wasn't the same gun every time. Where was she hiding all these?

He checked under the nightstand. There was another gun there, one he recognised only too well. It was a HWMP series mark X, modded to accommodate thermal clip use. It used to be her favourite pistol two years ago. He never saw her without it back then, no wonder she acquired it now.

Still on all fours, he looked around and noticed something gleaming under the desk. Curious, he crawled over to have a closer look. Duct taped under the desktop, was another weapon. Surprised, he snapped his head back and his fringe hit the desk painfully.

Groaning and massaging the abused fringe, he reached out and ripped the taped gun off. It was an M-12 Locust Shepard and Kasumi found in Hock's vault. This one, too, was heavily customised. He thought he saw her leaving with it this morning, why was it here?

Upon closer inspection, he discovered it wasn't the same SMG she usually took on missions. This one had more outlandish mods, including a more comfortable forend and grip, extendible butt, improved barrel, switch for full-auto and semi-automatic, and an ACOG. Apparently, Shepard turned this Locust into a mini version of her favourite Mattock.

Garrus stared at the gun in his hand in awe. It was beautiful, perfectly versatile and well balanced. Impressive.

A feeling of dread crept down his spine as he looked around the loft. How many more were just lying around here? Where did Shepard hide them? Who would need this many guns in the bedroom on a ship like the Normandy?

Unable to shake the unease, he put the weapons where he found them and cleared the room as fast as a hoverboarding varren.

Garrus always knew Shepard really liked her guns, despite being a biotic, but now that he considered it in depth, he suspected there was more to this. He remembered that exchange aboard the Purgatory, when the guards asked them to relinquish their weapons. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits and her lips crooked into a scowl. She pulled out the Locust faster than he could notice and declared, "I'll relinquish one bullet. Where do you want it?", in that growly tone he knew meant trouble. For a moment, he thought she would really shoot the guards, had not that barefaced scum Kuril yield to her demands.

Still deep in thoughts, he wandered out of the elevator and onto the crew deck, only snapping out of it when he felt something hit him hard across the chest.

"Watch it! Oh, it's you, Officer Vakarian!"

Looking down, he saw Yeoman Chambers smiling at him from the floor. He must have bumped into her and the impact knocked her on her ass.

"I'm sorry, Yeoman," he said and helped her up. She nodded her thanks, still smiling, and dusted off her butt.

"Something the matter, Officer? You seem distracted," she asked, looking him over.

"It's nothing, really. I was just- Nevermind," he mumbled.

"Is it about Commander Shepard?" she asked in a low voice, now seemingly more concerned.

"How did you know?" he said, surprised. Granted, Kelly was unofficially a counsellor, but was he that obvious?

She shot him a small, sour smile.

"It's my job, Officer. And I worry about the Commander too. Come, let's talk," she said, not smiling anymore.

She pulled him to the far end of the table and sat him down, then took the chair across from him. Garrus tried to look anywhere but at her, uncomfortable with being put on the spot like this. He would much rather deal with Shepard's crazy on his own, at least for now, when his mind was still reeling.

"I've been worried about the Commander from day one," Kelly said, not looking at him either. "She died, then was forced back to life, just to be thrown straight into a pan-galactic mess again. I've seen people snapping from a much lesser trauma. How does she keep on going, still in sound mind, being burdened with so much pressure and expectations?"

Kelly finally looked at him, appearing just as sad and worried as he himself was. He nodded, getting ready to say something, but she continued.

"I expected PTSD, depression, god knows what. But she seems so well adjusted, displays no signs of distress. That I've noticed, that is. But you spend so much time together. Am I wrong in thinking, you've discovered something about the Commander that might shed some light on her coping mechanisms?"

Garrus stared at the Yeoman in shock. She really was good. He sighed and gave in.

"She has a lot of guns stashed around her cabin, in some strange places. Under the pillow. Duct taped to the desk. Under the nightstand. Spirits only know where else. She customises them in her spare time, too, and does it really well. And I've never seen her do it, I don't know where she finds the time," he sighed and shook his head. Now he was worried she wasn't sleeping, as well. Except he knew she was.

Kelly seemed relieved, however. She smiled at him and pat his forearm.

"Don't worry. Of all the things she could be doing, this is one of the least dangerous ones. Despite it being guns. If this is how she copes, I think we don't have to worry too much."

"But-" he blurted, then stopped, to consider what Kelly said. Her words did help, but still, there was doubt, gnawing at him from the back of his mind. "She keeps me grounded and secure. In control. I hoped I could do the same for her."

Kelly let out a merry laugh and gently squeezed his hand.

"I've never seen her happier since you two entered a relationship. You give her peace, Garrus. And joy. She just needs a bit more of it, and of a different kind, in addition to what you offer. It doesn't lessen your importance to her. And maybe, if you asked her about it, she could share it with you. It would be good for the both of you."

She let go of his hand, smiled at him and left, heading for Sergeant Gardner's workplace.

Garrus sighed wistfully. Maybe the Yeoman was right? Maybe he should ask Shepard what was this all about? But perhaps he should watch her more closely, until he figured it out himself first?

Garrus started to pay closer attention to Shepard and her guns from then on.

When on a mission, he sometimes could hear her whispering, over the sound of his music. When he lowered the volume, the words came through, a mantra taught to all marines, "...My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life..."

Ever since they got the Mattocks, she seemed excited about them, brought him one, first thing after opening the crate, pushed it into his arms and went on and on about how wonderful it was, how precise and powerful.

But she never used it, not until she found a stray Mattock on that Collector vessel. She picked it up and strapped it to her back. She carried it around like a trophy, and when they got back to the Normandy, she sat down and modified the rifle herself. Apart from refitting it for thermal clips, she added a scope, the Rosenkov one he favoured himself, a kinetic pulsar, and a tugsten jacket. He watched her, marvelling at her precise movements and swift execution. She started working determined, but by the end, her eyes shone proudly when she tested the gun, popping the heatsink in and out, checking the aim and cleaning it until the rifle gleamed in the severe lights of the armory. It was right after they started courting and he couldn't believe that she chose him.

He still didn't quite believe his luck, or how wonderful she made him feel, when she held his hand, tiny fingers intertwined with his, and how, when she clung to him, she made all his demons disappear.

That night, when she was lying, exhausted and vulnerable, on his chest, her alien fringe spread all over his neck, he inhaled her human scent and vowed to get to the bottom of this, for her sake.

Everything seemed fine, except he was noticing the tiny weapon-related things more often.

He once caught her after the mission, cooing at the Mattock while cleaning it, "Don't worry, baby. Momma will clean you right, you'll be all shiny in no time at all..."

He saw her roll her shoulders, adjusting to the weight that was not there, or run her hands down her hips, reaching for the pistol or the SMG that were very much absent. She would blush, then, and turn her eyes away, as if embarrassed. Her expression was similar to the one she had when she stood naked in front of him for the first time.

She sometimes filled her pockets with items resembling pistols, too. Like the other day, in the mess hall. They just finished their lunch date and were about to go back to their duties for the rest of the shift, when Joker called after her.

"Hey, Commander! Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

She winked at Garrus and pulled the object out. An Earth fruit, banana. She aimed it at Joker and imitated a sound of a shot.

"Pew pew! No, Joker. This is for later," She laughed, spun the banana on her finger like those cowboys from a vid they watched just several days earlier. She holstered the fruit back in her pocket, kissed Garrus goodbye, and vanished behind the elevator's door.

Maybe she never really attempted to hide this thing for guns, after all.

When Garrus walked out of her bathroom with an M-3 Predator he found tucked under the toilet bowl, she just smiled at him, as if storing weapons in the head was completely normal.

"Do you like it?" she asked, excited. "I wanted to show you how I modded it. It has mark VI titan pulsar and I fitted the thermal sink from the Eviscerator into it. You can fire twenty four shots before ejecting the thermal clip, now! And look, it doesn't even weigh much more than usual!"

Despite the unsettling feeling that lingered from a realisation he was essentially sitting on a weapon not a moment ago, Garrus couldn't deny he was awed with how creative she was getting with the customisation. He examined the pistol closely, weighted it in his hand, and looked at Shepard's excited, hopeful face.

"It's very impressive," he admitted with a chuckle. "But why was it under-"

"It's the one I carry when I'm wearing that little black dress from Kasumi," she said, pleased with his praise. "But I wanted to give it to you when I'm done with it. I have several more ideas for mods."

His mind ground to a strop. He knew the dress she was talking about. Soft, black leather hugged her body, leaving little to imagination. It had no sleeves and was only long enough to reach the middle of her thighs. There was no way she could hide a heavy pistol under something that snug, was there?

His thoughts must have shown on his face, because she smiled and opened her drawer. She rummaged in it and finally pulled something out, turned back to him, and tossed the thing in his direction. He caught the item and examined it. It was a wide strap of black fabric, with a pocket fitted for a pistol.

"I put it around my thigh when I wear the dress," she explained, when she saw his confused look. "The gun goes into this holster here, and when I wear it, it's on the inner side of my thigh. Invisible under the dress."

"That's very cool!" he was genuinely amazed by the simplicity and practicality of this contraption, but something was still not quite right. In the open drawer, among Shepard's various pieces of underwear, gleamed a butt of yet another gun.

He warily approached the drawer and picked it up. It was an M-5 Phalanx Mini. Not really modded much, it only had the grip changed to fit a human hand.

"Um... Shepard, what's this?"

"Oh! That's... um," she stammered and let out a nervous giggle. "I lifted it from Pitne For. He's not going to need it in jail."

He stared at her in disbelief.

"What for? It's made for a volus."

"Because he was an asshole, that's why!" she grinned. "And I like this model. It's handy, tiny and I can hide it anywhere," she shrugged and took the pistol from his hand.

Garrus's mind started to wander. Where was anywhere? He eyed Shepard's body, head to toe. There weren't many places she could hide a pistol, even this small, under this uniform. She definitely couldn't tuck it behind the waistband of her pants, he would notice instantly. Maybe in one of the cargo pockets?

Technical musings turned into content appreciation of her swaying hips, when she walked around the bed, picked up her old N7 helmet and stuffed the pistol inside.

This snapped him out of his pleasant reverie.

"Why are you hiding it there?" he asked, perplexed.

She looked at him blankly, then frowned and glanced at the helmet in her hand.

"Hey, why not," she said, shrugging, and put down the armor piece back where it was, the pistol still inside. "As good a place as any. Now, judging by the look you had-"

What started as a chuckle, bubbling deep in his throat, soon turned into an overwhelming, full body, diaphragm-straining laughter. The kind only heard coming from someone very, very relieved.

She was looking at him, small, unsure smile on her lips. When he calmed down somewhat, he pulled her close, nuzzling her neck, breathing her in, all shampoo, gun polish, ozone from her biotics, and something distinctly her own.

"I was worried sick about you for weeks now, finding all those modded guns everywhere, and you're telling me it's just because you're being messy with them?"

"I'm sorry, I never knew you'd be worried because I can be careless," she sighed into his chest. "But I like the guns. They bring me comfort."

He stroked her hair, then shoulders, and along her spine, pulling at her shirt lightly. She sighed, this time more impatiently, and started tugging on his armor.

"Right..." he purred in her ear. "Because something that could discharge a potentially lethal bullet is nothing if not comforting."

She stopped taking his armor off and steadied his head in her hands to look into his eyes.

"I know it's stupid. A bullet won't protect me against the vacuum of space, either. But my guns give me the illusion of being able to deal with some things, at least. I like to know that there's something I can control."

She looked so sincere and vulnerable, almost exactly like he must've looked that night before the Omega-4, when he spilled all his worries to her. She held his gaze with her uncertain eyes, waiting for his reaction.

"I can't argue with that," he said and nodded slightly, leaning his forehead to hers. She mirrored his gesture and rubbed her brow against his gently.

"That's enough talk, big guy," she grinned and planted a little kiss on his mandible. "I believe we were in the middle of something?"

He laughed and let her guide him to their bed.