In keeping with my old tradition, the story shall be in both the description and in the source file for easy download. Just pick which method you prefer.

Anyway, little romantic fluff between Shepard and Tali I did because I could. ME3, post Rannoch, before Thessia. My own way of celebrating my birthday, I suppose. Hope you all enjoy!
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Just because Quarians don't have many personal belongings doesn't mean they don't give gifts for special occasions. They celebrate holidays and birthdays the same as everyone, at least in broad terms. They get together as friends and family, exchange gifts, stories, and continue traditions that make no sense to anyone new to it. As if the other species have a monopoly on weird customs: what is with humans and kissing under smelly flowers, or asari playing catch with young children instead of a ball? The good news is giving presents is almost universally acceptable for special occasions. It's a good, safe bet.
That's what Tali tells herself as she approaches the commander's cabin with a wrapped box in hand. It's not like holidays come with a manual. A little extranet research could usually unearth something, but that involves sorting through the misconceptions, misunderstandings, and outright lies left to trick unwitting fools like her. (Garrus still hasn't forgiven her for pranking him on the wrong holiday.) At least consulting her friends and a few of the human crew helped put her on the right track. All she had to do was pick the gift, let Chakwas help her wrap it, and deliver it in person. Simple.
So why was she paused in front of his door, battling last minute nervousness?
Self-imposed pressure, she thinks to herself. You're expecting yourself to make a mistake.
It's probably true. This is still something new to her, and that only makes her more worried she’ll do something wrong.

Dating is still such a strange concept, and one that doesn't quite describe what her and Shepard are. It doesn't match what she had grown up hearing what it was like: dinner dates at expensive restaurants, romantic walks through gardens, rampant sex to end special nights. The constant missions prevent the first two, and biology requires a week's preparation so that the latter doesn't kill her. Not that it wasn't worth it.
With the two of them it's more... subtle. Shepard saving her for last when making his rounds, so he had no reason to end their conversations. Her adjusting her sleep schedule so her clock matched the human's, and they would be awake at the same hours. Both almost instinctively finding each other after the rough days, cuddling somewhere quietly until whatever nightmares they had seen were a fuzzy memory. It feels like something more than what others said it would be. Something deeper, in a romantic or cliché way. “Rainbows and butterflies kind of way,” Kasumi would have called it.
Regardless, this is still her first serious, committed relationship. That comes with a lot of unexplored territory, a lot of things she must tackle head on, bravely facing the unknown with courage and hope to learn from it should anything go wrong. Such as her boyfriend's birthday.

Courage, she thinks again. There's no reason to be worried. Chakwas and Garrus said it's perfect. Just stop thinking and give it to him.
She takes a final deep breath, then taps the interface on the door. On the other side, a soft ding sounds.
“Enter,” Shepard responds with a calm authority. It's a good sign: if he was in a bad mood, he would have simply locked it or not answered.
Tali touches the button next to the bell, and the door slides away. She's not greeted by the usual music of his room, the old guitars, drums, or singers.
Instead, a male voice speaks with slow, dramatic clarity. “... lapsing into an inane titter or a whisper about 'the moving colours down there.' Two in one family was pretty bad, but Nahum was very brave about it.”
“This is new,” Tali comments aloud, walking into the cabin with her present behind her back. She doesn't find him at the work desk or surrounded by the model ships. He's sitting at the booth with the large table, behind a dozen scattered tech parts. His omni-tool is out, the blade extended and crackling with small bolts of electricity.

Shepard looks up from his toys and smiles at the Quarian. “Hey, baby girl. What, don't do audio books?”
“Not typically,” she says with a shake of the head, approaching the other side of the booth. “I prefer to read, it's easier to focus that way.”
“I only do it when I'm working on something. Slight distraction that's not quite as relaxing as music,” he shrugs. The hand not in his omni-tool starts typing at another holographic keyboard while his eyes focus on the blade again.
“Is this another old story I've never heard of? Not that you listen to anything current,” she jokes. There are maybe a dozen songs he's downloaded from the last decade, and half of those are covers of human songs older than both of them combined.
He chuckles. “Funny. Human author, Lovecraft, little over 200 years ago. One of the original horror names in the Americas, famous for the Cthulhu Mythos. His xenophobia doesn't age well, but he knew how to build suspense.”
“Hmm.” The Quarian slides her present into the seat just under the table, then joins her boyfriend on the other side. She lays her head on his shoulder as he continues tinkering. “As long as you find it relaxing.”

“I think 'comforting' fits better,” he says slowly. Setting the tool on the table, he wraps an arm around her shoulder to pull her in close. His leather N7 coat is always warmer than it looks, perfect for her to cuddle into him. “People beating back their fears, you know? Things are scary, but not unstoppable. Just takes a little creativity, a lot of persistence, and usually a giant gun doesn't hurt.
“Besides, if I come out of it better than Lovecraft's heroes, I'm doing alright.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most of his stories end with the monsters delayed at best, and usually the hero losing his mind from just seeing the creature. Figure we can at least kill Reapers, and I've still got a little sanity left. Some kind of improvement there.”
“You're doing better than any of us could,” she says quietly, hugging her boyfriend around his chest. “And you shouldn't need an old story to remember that.”
He laughs a little and looks down at the mask hiding his girlfriend's face. Not at the mask. Through it. He's looking at me under this damned visor, she catches herself thinking as he smiles.
“No, that's what I've got you for, right?” He lays a small kiss on the top of the glass, where her forehead should be, where she wishes it was. “I've got the best girlfriend in the galaxy. Gotta be doing something properly.”

They both laugh and hug each other a little tighter. It's one of those quiet moments she was thinking about just before she came in, the ones that seem to be happening more and more. A part of her has always wondered if their attraction was just a reaction to the stress. “Any port in a storm,” as the human saying went: an attachment they formed because they both need something stable, something safe to hold onto as the galaxy goes to Hell around them.
But that voice had been growing quieter as time went on. Things hardly changed between them after the Collectors, when they were safe at Illium. And the same could be said while they were apart. When they found each other again, it was like returning to an old ship. They still felt pulled to each other in quiet moments, not just when one or the other needed comfort. She found herself missing his warmth at her side all the time, instead of only when she wanted something to hold onto and be told it would be alright.
That's part of a normal relationship, right? That's proof we should be together, because we want to be. Because there's something real between us, she happily thinks as she hugs him with a briefly renewed affection.

“So what's the occasion?” he asks with another mask kiss. “Don't think I didn't see that box you brought with you.”
Nervousness flashes through her again before she shoves it back down. Mostly. “Dr Chakwas told me your birthday was this week,” she stutters quickly as her hands begin to fidget.
Get a hold of yourself, she sternly yells mentally. It doesn't help. “And I thought I was supposed to give you a gift. I know I missed your last birthday when we were chasing Saren, but you never told me when it was. And then you were gone for two years, and now I'm your girlfriend, and I thought-”
“No, you're not.”
That stops her mid stutter. Nervousness instantly changes into panic. “I'm... not?”
He smiles down at her. “You're the woman I love. 'Girlfriend' is an inadequate title.”
“... Bosh'tet,” she laughs, landing a solid punch into his ribs.
“Hey, it worked, didn't it?” he chuckles. “You're cute when you're flustered.”

Her feet, used to navigating the narrow spaces of the engine, expertly picks up the present box and pulls it to her. “I should feed your present to your fish. They would appreciate it more.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm an asshole.” He backs up a hair and puts his hands up in surrender. “But you chose to deal with me.”
“You're lucky you're cute, and that I owe you a home world.” Letting herself dwell on that first part for a moment, she looks him over. As much as human fashion confuses her, his N7 jacket and jeans have a certain charm. His black hair is now barely longer than he used to keep it, only enough for her to run her fingers through and lose sight of them. It's a good look for him. The only thing she's never sure how she feels about is his goatee. Between the facial hair and the scars, he looks so much older than he is. “It's not the years, it's the mileage.” Humans have a phrase for everything, don't they?
He takes the small box gingerly from her hands, then demolishes the bright purple (a color she took great care to match to her suit) wrapping paper in a flash. Once he reaches the shoe box underneath, he slows himself again and carefully opens it. And then he smiles even wider.
“You know me too well,” he says, pulling out a tea sampler box.
“Three different flavors from each cluster in the galaxy,” she explains proudly. “Even the Reapers can't stop humanity's obsession with caffeine. Dr Chakwas made a list of which ones can help you sleep. It should be deeper in the box.”

Shepard briefly looks over the flavors listed on the back, then digs into the box for the list. He finds it, as well as the second gift buried under tissue paper.
“How did you find this again?” he asks under his breath, then laughs as he examines the cologne box. “Guardian Angel,” the first half written in business-like serif style font and the latter in a fancy cursive, proclaims the brand and brings back memories for both of them. Memories involving far too many adventures and alcohol with a bored crew.
Tali shrugs humbly. “You can find anything on the extranet, if you know what you're looking for. And know the Shadow Broker personally.”
Setting the box on the table, he chuckles. “Like I said, you know me too well.”
“It's the least I can do, Aaron.” She reaches across the booth and takes his hands in hers. “It's the least you deserve.”
“No, it's not.”
Sliding closer to her, his gray eyes lock with hers. Through the purple haze and the glass, he stares directly at her as he whispers, “I don't even deserve you, Tali.”

She leans her head forward, resting the top of her mask against his forehead. She closes her eyes and continues rubbing his hands. Almost laughing under her breath, she debates between a dozen things to say. There has to be some perfect human analogy here, a romantic quote or poem or something. They have one for everything else, why not for this? Why can't I think of-
“I love you, baby girl,” he whispers, silencing the voice in her head.
And that makes her heart pause. She still remembers Rannoch perfectly, what they said. His response to her terribly timed proclamation of love was beautiful, poetic, everything she could've hoped for. But this is still the first time he's actually said, “I love you.” And it means just as much now as it did on Rannoch.
“I love you too,” is all she can mutter out as she climbs into his lap for closer snuggles.
Apart from the audio book droning on about the cursed Gardner farm and the couple's gentle breathing, there’s no sound in the room for at least fifteen minutes. Neither one wants or needs to say anything.

Eventually, they reach a silent agreement that it's ok to end the moment. There's a renewed intimacy between them as they adjust, Tali settling into his side while his arm drapes around her again. It's not the most practical position for them to do anything with the tools on the table, but neither one seems to particularly care.
“What was I interrupting when I came in?” she asks, looking over the mess before her.
“Trying to improve my omni-blade,” he says as he opens his tool with the arm not around her. “The extra bite the electricity adds is nice, but it slows down the fabrication. I don't want to get clubbed by another Cerberus trooper while I'm waiting on this thing to be ready.”
The engineering savant in Tali is already thinking of possible solutions. “What about forcing it to draw power from your suit? It may slow the recharge rate for hacking attacks, but it would take some of the pressure off your omni-tool and help it fabricate the blade faster.”
“My body armor doesn't have enough juice for that, not without sacrificing half of my shields,” he says with a bit of remorse. “The software is as optimized as it's going to get, too. Overclocking the processor even further would help, assuming I can keep it cool enough to not melt.”
“What about... combining the two ideas? Can we access the diagrams of the heavy weapons Jacob researched when we were hunting the Collectors?”
“EDI probably has them still. Let me guess: the Avalanche? Use the laser cooling to keep the processor cool?”
“And we take the battery from the Arc Projector, mount it into your armor to feed your shields and your omni-tool.”

He pauses for a moment, imagining the schematics and deciding on the details. “That's brilliant. We would need new software to trigger the cooling only at high temperatures, make sure it doesn't freeze the processor. Almost might need a basic VI to watch it with how quickly laser cooling works.”
“We have to install the battery somewhere safe on the suit, where we don't have to worry about gunfire detonating it. It may need its own cooling system as well,” the Quarian reminds.
“Assuming we still have the old schematics, it’s just a matter of condensing existing designs.”
Tali opens her omni-tool, then laughs. “EDI has been spying on us again,” she says, displaying her messages.
The AI has already dug up and forwarded the schematics for the Avalanche and the Arc Projector to them. With a few quick taps, these diagrams are 3-D holograms hovering over the table. Each piece is labeled clearly, ready to be taken out and tweaked by hand. Not perfect for their needs, but it's plenty for some concept-level tinkering.

As Tali begins dissecting the weapons, Shepard creates two more holograms to the side. One matches his modified N7 armor, while the other is her environment suit.
“No way we're putting all of this effort into just my gear,” he laughs as she looks at him curiously. “Besides, I want to see what kind of damage you can do with the extra juice behind your omni-tool.”
She shakes her head, pulling up the specs on the Arc Projector's battery. “Is this what you imagined your birthday would be like?”
“Better, actually. It's hard to beat the company I have.”
The pale skin hidden under a purple mask blushes slightly. “Happy birthday, Shepard.”
“It is now. Thanks, baby girl.”
Tali smiles as they both dig into their respective holograms, never more than a few inches from her boyfriend. Who needs a normal relationship. This is better. This is real.