The Bad Batch Holiday Exchange

[badbatch-holiday-exchange]

Schedule

9. - 14. November: Sign Ups

14. - 23. November: Matching

You'll receive your assignment latest on 23. November

23. November - 23. December: Time to create!

13. December: Check-In

24. December your timezone: Time to post!

You can find Rules and Guidelines here

[clone-exchange]

Summer Exchange 2026

Sign ups for the summer exchange start today! You can join up here!

They will be open until April 29th at 11:59pm PST

Assignments will go out May 1st

If you have any questions or concerns please check the pinned FAQ and if it isn't there don't be afraid to reach out

@swfandomevents

[pinetree-thetooka]

I had the honor to create a @badbatch-holiday-exchange gift for @99aceace, an awesome artist and fellow Bad Batch lover!

First of, I am so terribly sorry that I’m so late at posting your gift but also so very very thankful and grateful for your understanding and patience :”D

I hope you will enjoy this gift as much as I enjoyed making it!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Here’s the first chapter of your gift, I’m already working on the others, furiously elbowing my way through the writing block I am currently in once again xDP

Marry Christmas to you :D 💚💚

[pinetree-thetooka]

@99aceace @badbatch-holiday-exchange

Waiting is over! Chapter two of Early Mission is finally finished!

I very much hope you enjoy it!!

[insertmeaningfulusername]

We Drank All the Sun We Could Find

When Echo visits the Bad Batch on Pabu, he falls ill. Of course, the members of his former squad take care of him—each in their own way.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

My giftee is @abelunwilling for the @badbatch-holiday-exchange!! Apologies for being so late (in my defence, I got sick alksfjsdfj), I hope you're enjoying a lovely holiday season 🫶 and have fun with your gift (:

[clone-exchange]

Reminder there's not much more time to sign up! They will be closing tonight at 11pm PST.

If you haven't signed up yet you can here.

[abelunwilling]

Snow Day

I had @gay-republic-army for the @badbatch-holiday-exchange!

I'm so sorry my gift is a little late, but I hope you'll enjoy it and that you had a great holiday (however you might celebrate)! Hope you don't mind but I tried to squish a few of your prompts into one concoction. Enjoy the Batch (and Rex) in some fluffy Ambiguous Winter Space Holiday silliness. ‪‪❤︎‬

“So, you’re telling me the target defeated… himself?” “Th-that’s an affirmative, Captain.” “And he did this how?” “He, uh… it appears it was an ice-skating accident, sir.”

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[pinetree-thetooka]

I had the honor to create a @badbatch-holiday-exchange gift for @99aceace, an awesome artist and fellow Bad Batch lover!

First of, I am so terribly sorry that I’m so late at posting your gift but also so very very thankful and grateful for your understanding and patience :”D

I hope you will enjoy this gift as much as I enjoyed making it!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Here’s the first chapter of your gift, I’m already working on the others, furiously elbowing my way through the writing block I am currently in once again xDP

Marry Christmas to you :D 💚💚

[clone-exchange]

Reminder: Sign ups close on the 30th!

If you haven't signed up yet, you can here.

@swfandomevents

[diagnosed-ordinary]

Bad Batch Holiday Exchange Fic 2/3 - Soft HuntTech

Written for @badbatch-holiday-exchange for @nightwriterscave (~1,500 words)

Hello beloved giftee, I present you with this specially crafted gift of soft HuntTech, the first time I’ve written for this ship! Tech is recovering after being rescued from Tantiss and Hunter is dealing with the guilt of realising he had left him behind on Eriadu. I imagine they are out for a very gentle walk round Pabu whilst Tech regains his strength, and Hunter is endlessly conflicted about wanting to be by his side whilst also blaming himself for Tech’s injuries.

The prompt I took inspiration from:- Hunter/Tech, Hurt/Comfort, Hand-Holding, Kissing, Soft Romance, Getting Together

Read Here on AO3

Banner by the awesome @the-little-moment <3

Pabu (post S3)

“Hunter, please stop looking at me like that.”

“Sorry.” The response was instinctual on Hunter’s part, his gaze dropping to the floor before he flicked a bruised look back up at Tech. “Like what?” he asked for clarification, which told Tech that he hadn’t really understood what he was apologising for in the first place.

Tech sighed, stepping close to Hunter and taking his face in both hands.

“Like the only thing you feel when you look at me is guilt.” He kept his voice soft, ducking a little as Hunter immediately looked away to try and stay in his line of sight. “Like you don’t even see me any more. Only the past.”

Hunter’s cheeks flushed with shame, and the tense muscles of his jaw twitched under Tech’s fingertips.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, his hands closing over Tech’s and lifting them away from his face. His touch lingered, just a moment, fingertips barely threading together before he pulled his arms back too and folded them tightly across his chest. Shoulders hunched miserably towards his ears, and Tech gave another expansive sigh.

“You are the only one who feels like this, Hunter. No-one else blames you for what happened.”

“I should have come back for you,” Hunter countered quickly, a well-rehearsed argument. “I should have checked.”

Tech knew this conversation cycle off by heart. He had yet to find the right thing to say that would snap Hunter out of his morose spiral of self-flagellation.

“It wasn’t like Daro,” he said firmly, before Hunter could use that comparison again, “where you somehow miraculously survived a fall down the mountainside unscathed, and ordered me to get the others to safety.” He caught hold of Hunter’s waist, tugging him close despite a protesting noise. “Unlike that circumstance, I gave you no indication that I was safe and well awaiting future retrieval.”

His lips quirked in a smile at the memory; Hunter hadn’t exactly been safe and well either, surrounded by Imperial troopers and quickly captured – but his point stood.

“On Eriadu, you did not have any evidence that I survived the fall.”

He paused, a slight frown furrowing his brow between the bridge of his goggles.

“I’m not sure that I did,” he admitted, and now a note of uncertainty crept into his voice.

“Tech.”

Hunter’s voice was rough and low, and bore that same weight of authority he had carried all their lives, as the Sergeant of Clone Force 99.

“You with me?” he asked, and now he met Tech’s gaze directly, peering up through his amber-lensed goggles with deep concern.

Tech blinked owlishly, riveted for a moment on Hunter’s wide, worried eyes, before he shook back to himself with a soft snort.

“Not every moment of introspection is –”

He cut off without completing the sentence, though they both knew what he was going to say.

A memory lapse.

Well, at least it had the effect of snapping Hunter out of his own thoughts and back into worry-mode.

“We can stop and rest –”

“Hunter, I do not need –”

“– just for a little bit. Please?”

The please, and Hunter’s desperate expression, were enough to make Tech capitulate. In the past he had fought Hunter’s overly protective ministrations, but in the past Hunter had been able to take Tech’s defiance as a challenge, not a criticism.

“I shall sit and rest,” he declared loftily, casting about until he spotted a nearby bench, “once you admit that my incarceration in Mount Tantiss was not your fault.”

If he was feeling truthful, he was tired. Stubbornness, however, was second nature; all of the Batch were hard-headed, and that much at least he was confident had not been affected by the torture and reconditioning over the long months he had spent in the hidden Imperial base.

“I should have –”

“–done exactly as you did,” Tech interrupted him with finality. “Got the others out of there. You had Imperial pursuit. I was aware of all the variables, Hunter.”

“I let you down.”

“You did not.” Slowly Tech moved to the bench, sinking down carefully and pulling Hunter with him. It took him a moment to get comfortable, the metal brace around his leg restricting his movement, and Hunter fussed with the hinge until it loosened.

“I let Omega get captured,” Hunter continued in a gritty voice, wrestling to bite back his own emotions. “I didn’t rescue Crosshair like you wanted. I put Wrecker in danger so many times trying to find that place. Echo left.” He was crouched beside where Tech sat, hands idly cupping the knee joint of the brace now he had adjusted it. “You were supposed to be able to rely on me, and I let you all down.”

“Do you honestly think that any of us feel that way about you?”

Hunter gave the barest shrug, his intense frown half-hidden by the shadow of his hair.

Tech sighed. It didn’t matter what the truth of things was, that they had been in an untenable position with no way out. Hunter blamed himself, and projected those feelings of guilt onto those around him until he was convinced they must harbour the same loathing for him as he did for himself.

“Hunter. Would you kindly cease with this behaviour and accept the logical fact that, were our positions reversed, you and I would have followed the exact same course of action?”

At Hunter’s huff of disbelieving laughter Tech smiled, just a little. He hoped he was finally getting through to him.

“There may be gaps in my memory,” he said bluntly, and couldn’t help the way he winced at the admission. The scars of Tantiss went far beyond those he wore on his skin. “But I do remember one thing most clearly, and that is that our successes are because we trust each other.” He paused, waiting to be sure that Hunter was listening. Only when the other clone reluctantly glanced up did he finish, “I trust you, Hunter. Can you learn to trust yourself again?”

The long silence that followed was weighted with tension, as Hunter slid onto the bench beside Tech with one hand still on his knee. This thumb brushed idly over the top of his thigh, skimming a path between the supporting bars of the leg brace.

“I don’t know if I can do what you’re asking,” he admitted at length, keeping his gaze downcast and following the track of his own small movement. “Forgive myself. For leaving you. For not rescuing you sooner.”

“You didn’t know.”

Now Hunter looked up at him desperately.

“If I had, I wouldn’t have stopped looking. We stopped searching for Tantiss after Cross and Omega escaped. If I’d known you were there, I wouldn’t have given up.”

“I know,” said Tech softly, full of reassurance.

Tentatively, he dropped his hand to Hunter’s, stilling the anxious movement of his touch. When it seemed like Hunter wasn’t going to immediately buck him off and retreat, he laced their fingers together, squeezing hard.

When he leaned in to kiss Hunter, it was a feather-light brush of their mouths; it sent a tingly, pleasant feeling vibrating through him, and the soft noise Hunter made, the faintest sigh of satisfaction – oh, but he would like to hear that again.

“Whilst there are many things I do not remember –” he began matter of factly, pulling back to fix Hunter with a soft smile.

“–We weren’t in a relationship, Tech,” corrected Hunter with a weary grin, but a spark of his usual humour showed in his eyes and that was so much better than the ache of guilt that had been there before.

“Nonsense. I clearly recall kissing you.”

“It was one time. We were cadets.”

“Well. It was remiss of me not to pursue the experience repeatedly.”

Hearing Hunter’s gruff chuckle, seeing the way that a little of the sorrow lifted from his frame, was all Tech wanted.

Hunter reached out and brushed a brief, fond touch along Tech’s jaw, and at last his smile seemed genuine.

“Come on. We’ve been out a long time, and I don’t want you to tire out.”

“I am not fragile, Hunter,” Tech grumbled, but allowed Hunter to pull him to his feet. Partly because it once again gave him a height advantage, meaning he could lean down to steal another kiss in a way that he knew would make his former sergeant melt.

This time as they kissed Hunter’s hands came up to cup his cheeks gently, holding him close even after the kiss ended, tilting their foreheads together.

“I’ll try,” he said at length, breathing a sigh into their shared space. “Is that good enough?”

Tech hummed a thoughtful noise as a small smile curled across his lips, curving them upwards.

“You have always been good enough for me, Hunter.”

Here for the Hunter and Tech angst? There’s more in Radio Silence!

[pizzaboy-maul]

My @badbatch-holiday-exchange piece for @insertmeaningfulusername

Some Echo centric public sex featuring Wrecker and Crosshair 💕

The full picture can be found here on my bluesky

[dreamingdraig]

Somewhere, sometime, Omega got her first real Life Day with her family... ♡♡♡

... And it's as terribly clumsy but well-intentioned as you'd think it'd be for being orchestrated by five guys who also never got a Life Day. She's just thankful everyone's being festive with her, even if all the cooking smells are getting to Hunter, Wrecker ate two serving spoons of cookie dough because honestly what a mood (she did too), Tech and Echo claimed the 'instructions' for traditions before anyone else could with the speed of a competitive sport, and Crosshair is putting up with everything like the one guy in the corner of the office holiday party.

Also I'm so sorry @backintheroom! I accidentally queued this for the wrong time and didn't notice until I got off work! Happy @badbatch-holiday-exchange! I hope you like it! ;u;

[sxpaiscia]

happy holidays @wife-to-ct9904 ! i was your secret gifter! hope you like this! The Batch managed to corral their dear sniper into a holiday themed sweater, all just to take a picture together for the Holidays. Crosshair is absolutely figthing it, but more for principle than because he does not really want this, he has a reputation to defend after all (and probably some guilt/worth issues still to deal with :pensive: ... but nobody that brother's love and stubbornest cant fix!) Echo is enjoying watching them (that mug is 80% alchool, 20% hot chocoa) (pic without the dialogues under the cut!) thanks @badbatch-holiday-exchange for hosting <3

[kyraltre]

Made for @badbatch-holiday-exchange - specifically for @daidrm

Characters: Crosshair & Kolto (their oc) Prompt: Crosshair having some feels towards Kolto + Kolto's love of cake

"I Noticed" - Read on Ao3 - 930 words

Watching is as easy as breathing; as natural as a sunset. His comfort hobby to soothe the jagged edges of his soul.

A part of Crosshair wondered if he would enjoy watching over the squad even if his eyesight wasn't enhanced. If he would still like to linger on the high ground for just a moment more to do another head count…

… but that were ponders for a past life.

Crosshair could still watch over his new squad though; could still find a little bit of comfort in what was natural as the breeze… and so he watched.

From the treeline. Through the scope. From the back of the marching order. Across the campfire….

… at some point his gaze began to linger on his commander…

It was only to protect the fleshy natborn. He didn't have a lifetime of training, he was a liability to himself with that fake cheerful attitude that grated on the sniper… he was didn't have the armor they had…

He was a liability that kept Crosshair's gaze far too long and he was only concerned because if Kolto died then he would have to get used to another overly pompous natborn commander.

And that's the only reason why he watched Kolto twice, if not thrice, as much as anyone else.

In his watching, Crosshair picked up on things…

How he got a little fidgety right before pulling out a cigarette; a trait Crosshair refused to admit mirrored himself and his precious toothpicks.

The soft sighs before rolling his shoulders back and square when he was tired but hiding it.

The slight brightening of his green eye when something caught his attention… The first time Crosshair caught that glimmer, he thought his heart was about to give out. He borrowed a med scanner to ensure the vital organ was fine. Of course it was perfectly normal (as normal as a 'medically defective' clone heart could be), but it was still alarming.

That little glitter of light came more frequently, now that Crosshair was actively looking for it. Luckily his heart didn't threaten to stop on subsequent observations of the light in Kolto's eye. It was a soft light, a blink and you miss it light. It came with a softening of his face, as if the galaxy wasn't at war for just a moment.

Sometimes Kolto gave this look to stray Tookas… other times to vista they were marching past… but more often than not it was to food stalls- specifically dessert ones.

He never got Wrecker anything from the mess hall. Not even when he made the same doe eyes and slight tight lipped pout at a treat he couldn't have. He wouldn't have done this for a brother, it made no sense why he would do it for his commander.

Still his long legs carried him through the corridors with purpose. Mug of caf in one hand… and the last carrot puff cake in the other. Kolto had eyed the rare mess hall treat the last three times it had appeared on rotation but refused to get it. Making some half-hearted excuse and then leaving to smoke.

He always smoked in the same place, the officer's wing balcony. Crosshair didn't technically belong there anymore but his trademark scowl chased away anyone that looked at him twice… anyone but Kolto that was. Somehow every glare and scowl was not enough to demand space out of his superior officer; a small part of Crosshair wondered if he really wanted that space from Kolto anymore…

A very small part.

Stepping onto the balcony, Crosshair watched Kolto for just a moment. Finishing his latest cigarette looking out across Coruscant without a care.

Crosshair swallowed his oddly behaving heart to cross the balcony to his commander.

"Crosshair?" Finally, he noticed the approaching sniper. This was only confirmation that he was liability and in need of Crosshair's watchful eye if he only now noticed Crosshair's approach.

"Here." The sniper spat the word out while shoving the plate of cake at him.

Kolto blinked in confusion while Crosshair sat down beside him, hiding in the mug of caf.

"This is carrot puff cake." While it was a statement, Kolto's tone was questioning; as if suddenly it was cease to be a cake and turn into a loaf of bread.

Crosshair sighed, "How perceptive."

"Why?"

The question stopped his next sip of warm liquid. Why did he get the cake? He couldn't exactly explain the uncontrollable desire to remove the tight-lip sad look from Kolto's face when he looked at the baked good only to walk away from it.

"You like it." That was respectable. Understandable and completely normal reason for his behavior.

That soft look and brightness returned to his eye, "Yeah… I do." Then it hardened suddenly to look down Crosshair with a sharpness that mirrored the sniper's. "How did you know that."

Crosshair pulled away from the gaze and returned to his caf. "I noticed it," mumbled into the next sip.

Kolto hummed contently and looked at the cake again. "You noticed…" softer, nearly a whisper. That softness returning in earnest along with a brightness to his cheeks and eye.

Crosshair really needed to see medical; his heart was absolutely out of control and now his face was overly warm in the cool night air. He would see them… as soon as he was done with this mug of caf. He couldn't waste a good mug of caf.

His delay had no connection to continuing to sit next to Kolto for the time being. Absolutely no connection at all.

[letshareapapou]

❄️❄️ Gift for @sxpaiscia

for the @badbatch-holiday-exchange ❄️❄️

Reunion

Warning/Tags: Mayday/Crosshair- sfw, little hurt but lots of comfort~

Wordcount- 1,278

It happened on a Taungsday. 

It was sparingly, that Echo brought any new clones to Pabu. For most of them, other clones were a sad reflection they wanted to avoid, after being freed. Many preferred to escape into anonymity, to be alone and have room to spread their wings. No one could blame them, when your life was meant to end on a battlefield suddenly having anything else felt almost like too much. 

But for other's, there was a comfort in the familiar. And that sometimes meant Pabu. 

Not that Pabu was anything like Kamino, it rarely rained, it was rarely that cold. Stale white hallways gave way to colorful uneven pathways that usually brought you to something fantastic. The glaring similarity though, was that both were separated from everything else. And that made clones uneasy. Island paradise or not. There wasn't a set way to get off Pabu if you didn't have your own ship so most clones opted out. Many wanted to be connected to land but not to anyone else.

And that suited Crosshair just fine, personally. He accepted that other clones still made him uneasy, not really their fault. More at what he had done and what had been done to them. He tried putting it all the past but there was always a tenseness in his shoulders when Echo arrived with another batch. But he couldn't argue that he didn't have his favorites, Rex was always a welcome face and Howzer was more or less officially ‘around’, usually with Rex or Echo when they dropped by. (And maybe they'd made out behind the house once or twice, Howzer’s old resentment of him made it twice as hot) But every new clone besides that felt like a weight on his chest. Because really there was one he wanted to see the most and that clone was dead. 

Mayday hung over him like a ghost, well the memory of him. Crosshair felt a bit insane thinking it but if he believed in ghosts Mayday’s following him around didn't sound quite so bad. It didn't help that Hunter had taken to wearing his hair longer and had started growing a beard. Life was funny that way, before Mayday had reminded him of Hunter and now.. well Crosshair couldn't say he didn't deserve the reminder. 

The loud hum of Echo's ship broke the sniper from his maudlin thoughts and he shifted to lean on his other leg, glaring up at it. Hunter sent him a tired look, silently telling him to be more welcoming. Crosshair shrugged, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue and looked to watch the ramp lower down. 

Echo was coming down first, Omega running into his arms like usual, Wrecker not far behind, crushing her between them as Echo wheezed. Tech held hands with Phee, who stood beside Hunter; the three had varying degrees of fond looks on their faces as they watched the reunion.  Parents. Crosshair groaned internally.  Omega had started finally wanting space and now Tech had made a new problem. One who was currently in Crosshair's arms, babbling away and pulling at the long ponytail Crosshair now had. But he had Tech's big brown eyes and Phee’s smile, a deadly combination that left Crosshair ignoring the passengers and letting the baby chew on the tip of his silver locks while he responded quietly to the baby. Definitely Tech’s kid. Rem. Some corny name because it was the stage of sleep in which dreams occur. But he was also very cute so Crosshair forgave it. He was so distracted by his nephew that he almost didn't hear his name being called. He blinked and looked towards the voice. 

It was Mayday. 

He blinked again. And Mayday was closer. Saying something. But all Crosshair could hear was himself begging. To save him. He clutched Rem closer, breathed out and really looked. 

Mayday appeared to be fine.  His beard was shaved a bit neater now, though his hair was the same length. He had gained a bit of weight, in a way being starved on an icy hellscrape had deprived him of. Healthy. He called out Crosshair's name again. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Crosshair hissed, surprised when Mayday simply smiled.

“Maybe don't cuss in front of your kid.” He laughed, his eyes crinkled and Crosshair scowled when his heart thumped harder. 

“He's not mine. He's my nephew. Do I look like I'd fuck a women?” He bit out. 

Rem was suddenly being lifted from his arms but he just let Tech take him, distracted. 

“Mayday what happened?” He asked again, his voice almost cracking. 

Mayday rubbing the back of his neck,  “Maybe we can talk…in private?” He glanced over Crosshair's shoulder. 

 Crosshair looked back and yeah maybe everybody was watching, he didn't really care to be honest. He wanted answers. He grabbed Mayday’s hand and pulled him back up the ramp. He heard Echo sigh but ignored it. When they made it to the top he smashed the button with his fist and as soon as the ramp clicked closed he bit out,

“Talk.” 

Mayday sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall of the ship,

“Honestly there’s not much to it. I woke up on Barton IV, I don't know why they kept me alive, or how- it's not like they wanted me to stand trial, they just threw me in bacta then in a jailcell. I didn't know what planet I was on after that. They just left me there, no questioning, no torture- just in a cell. I guess you killing their commanding officer kinda threw them for a loop. They didn't know what to do with me. Then one day there's yelling and blasterfire and clones are breaking me out. There weren't many of us there but enough that I guess word got out. Then Echo asked me if I wanted to come here, so here I am.” He met Crosshair's eyes and smiled, “Fates funny huh?” 

Crosshair slumped back against the side of the ship. It was so…uneventful. After everything that happened he didn't know what he expected. But that was usually the end of things for clones wasn't it? To be left alone and forgotten. Tossed aside like old toys.

A hand fell on his shoulder, Mayday’s thumb rubbing over his collarbone, “Crosshair-I know it's a lot to take in. But I'm here. Though I'm curious : what happened to you?”

 Opening his mouth, the words just spilled out. Everything. From splitting with his batch to Tantiss and on. And Mayday just…listened. There was no pity or anger, just calm acceptance. Understanding.

Crosshair felt exhausted by the ending of it, drained in a way he didn't quite understand but also lighter in equal measure. He'd never wanted to talk about it, and the itch was there, always. To tell someone. That maybe if he did say the words out loud it would absolve him of his choices, but they were his. The guilt was his. 

“I'm sorry.” Mayday said, quietly. The words felt like a balm, the way he said it. Crosshair wanted to take that feeling and roll himself up in it. He leaned in and Mayday met him halfway, there wasn't fireworks when their lips meant but the peaceful feeling of soft waves rolling over a shore. Of a warm space when it was cold. Mayday smothered him in a comforting heat and he curled into it, greedy. 

Outside Crosshair could hear the others but he just closed his eyes and leaned into Mayday’s shoulder, he was going to keep this man to himself, just for a little while. 

[diagnosed-ordinary]

Reunited

Written for @badbatch-holiday-exchange for @finerafin (~900 words)

Hello, I'm not your official gift partner but here is a bonus fic this holiday season, I hope you enjoy! <3

The prompt I took inspiration from:- Crosshair & Tech reunion, I don't care just reunite them T.T 😅 Contains:- angst with a hopeful ending

Read Here on AO3

Banner by the awesome @the-little-moment!

Kamino (End of S1)

“You knew the reflector pucks were there. Before I fired.”

Tech shot him an exasperated look. “Of course I did.”

“So you knew I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

From someone else it may have sounded plaintive, or pleading. From Crosshair, the refutation was just stubborn.

Tech snapped the visor of his helmet up to regard his brother cooly through amber-lensed goggles. “Your point?” he asked, and with his helmet obscuring the rest of his facial expression it was hard to tell if he was truly irritated, or just his usual brusque self.

Crosshair’s top lip curled in a sneer. “If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

“I think the ignition of the ion engine on Bracca made that abundantly clear.” Tech hooked his datapad back on his belt, turning to give Crosshair his full attention. “At every step you have attempted to show us you have outsmarted us. But even that situation, that would appear a trap to others, you knew we would find a way out. Same as the training room. You want your Imperial cohorts to believe you are hunting us with all your skill, but if you really wanted you could have ended us without us ever knowing you were there.”

“I don’t want you dead. I want you to come back. To join me.”

Tech squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height to look Crosshair in the eye.

“When Wrecker’s chip activated on Bracca,” he said quietly, “he tried to kill me.”

The truth was an uncomfortable gulf between them as Crosshair darted his gaze away with a dismissive huff.

“Will you let me scan you? To verify your claim that you have had your chip removed?”

Crosshair’s scowl was heated. “Why? Don’t trust me?”

“I trust you,” said Tech levelly. “But I will be immeasurably disappointed if I find that you chose this course of action for yourself.”

In a contest of wills, Crosshair could easily outstare Wrecker until he crumbled. Hunter would glare in return until the whole debacle devolved into a fight. But Tech could wait him out.

With a snort, Crosshair shoulder-checked his brother as he barged past.

“We’ll all be dead in this drowning city soon anyway. It won’t matter then.”

*

Pabu (Post S3)

“Found this.”

Crosshair’s short statement was accompanied by tossing a warped piece of metal onto the workbench in front of Tech. The engineer looked up, peering at him through a displeased frown as he adjusted his wheeled chair to face his brother.

“Your point?” he asked, his voice that same carefully neutral tone he used every time they spoke.

Crosshair bristled, but he was learning to identify that emotion as fear, not anger. He took a deep breath, gesturing to the device that he had fished out of the wreckage of the Marauder.

“It’s the scanner you made,” he said by way of explanation. “D’you… want to fix it?”

“For what purpose?” said Tech carefully, poking at the mangled piece of electronics.

“So you can…” Crosshair took a deep, desperate breath. “Prove it to yourself. That it was all me.”

Tech’s dismissive snort rivalled Crosshair’s own.

“That hardly requires verification at this stage, Crosshair.”

“You knew,” said Crosshair, the soft accusation full of despair. “Back on Kamino. When you told me Wrecker’s chip had activated. You knew.”

“That you had been acting under your own, fully independent desires? Yes. I did.”

Things were still strained between the two of them. What Tech had suffered when the Imperial scientists had invaded his mind on Tantiss was immeasurable. His weakened state, the greater extent of his injuries, meant that reconditioning had succeeded on him where it had not on Crosshair. His memory was full of gaps, and worse, of snatches of clarity.

“I’m angry too,” Crosshair argued, his voice little more than a whisper. “You could have made me go with you.”

Tech sighed, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead and rubbing tiredly at his face.

“Yes,” he conceded, “I suppose I could have. At the time, I did not think that forcing my will on you would do anything except further damage our relationship. Hindsight often shows us the folly of our decisions.”

Crosshair dared to lean a hip against the edge of the workbench, even though he was still wound tight with tension.

“I miss you,” he snapped, the comment thrown out like a barb as that might assuage the uncertainty he felt. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“No,” said Tech bluntly. When Crosshair’s scowl almost fractured into a wobbly pout, he looked up at him, and gave him a tired smile. “But it’s a start.”

A heartbeat passed where neither brother spoke, gazes locked, as the hurt and recrimination of the past swelled and then ebbed between them.

“What’re you making?” Crosshair asked, pointing at the array of components on Tech’s table.

Tech slid a blueprint out from the mess of flimsi and passed it to him. A finely crafted prosthetic hand was carefully detailed on the schematics.

Crosshair made a dismissive snort, stubbornly refuting the way that tears stung behind his eyes.

“I suppose it will do,” he said, voice cracking just a little on the words.

“My progress might be more efficient,” said Tech carefully, “if someone were to bring me a nice cup of tea whilst I work.”

With a laugh that was little more than a breath of air, Crosshair nodded. For the first time in a long time, he smiled in Tech’s presence.

“Alright. I can do that.”

[diagnosed-ordinary]

Give me your hand

Written for @badbatch-holiday-exchange for @insertmeaningfulusername (~700 words)

Hello, I'm not your official gift partner but here is a bonus fic this holiday season, I hope you enjoy! <3

The prompt I took inspiration from:- whump, MayCross, hand kisses

Read Here on AO3

Banner by the awesome @the-little-moment!

Barton IV (S2 The Outpost)

Mayday didn’t even ask before reaching for Crosshair.

“Gloves off. Let’s have a look.”

The Imperial sniper met his concern with a fierce scowl, snatching his hand away.

“I’m fine.”

Mayday swayed back a little, startled by the 99’s hostility. He recovered quickly, smoothing his expression into something between amusement and sternness.

“I can see you wince every time you move your fingers. I need to check that frostbite hasn’t set in.”

The sniper glared at him warily. Agitation showed in the way he chewed on his toothpick before eventually shoving his left hand out with a scowl. In his right, he continued to cradle his Firepuncher.

Mayday was an experienced enough commander to know that he wasn’t separating that clone from his rifle, not whilst he still felt unsafe. He let it slide.

“I see our illustrious Imperial sponsors saw fit to outfit you with the finest equipment for this mission,” he said drily, the sarcasm clear behind his faux-jovial tone. The sniper’s gauntlets were no thicker than his own; it was no wonder his fingers were painfully cold.

“Be careful what you say,” hissed the tall clone, but his warning sounded tired as he shot a glance about for the nat-born Lieutenant.

Mayday snorted his dismissal of the man. “’Course. The dedicated Lieutenant is issued with fleece-lined mitts and a fur hood, but they can’t spring for the same upgrades for used equipment like us.”

His blood had boiled when Crosshair had given him the terse run-down of his first meeting with Nolan. Then again, the bitterness that fired his heart was about all he had left on this misbegotten outpost.

“Here.” He tugged off his own gloves, cupping Crosshair’s narrow-fingered hand in both of his and huffing what little warmth was left in his lungs onto the painfully red-cold digits. The sniper’s mouth twisted in a grimace at the way the commander’s breath beaded moisture into the air, settling on his skin, but Mayday merely grinned up at him.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he told him, rubbing vigorously to bring heat back into the frozen extremities. Crosshair hissed his displeasure, snatching his hand back.

“It stings,” he spat, expression even more closed off than before as he nursed the arm against his chest, biting back a wince with every flex of his fingers.

With an exaggerated but patient sigh, Mayday took his hand again, fighting against the sniper’s wiry strength as he forced him to extend his arm again.

“That’s a good sign,” he lectured. “It means the bloodflow is returning.”

The next few minutes passed in relative silence, Mayday massaging each of Crosshair’s finger joints individually whilst ignoring the tirade of expressive huffs, snorts and disgruntled sighs from his unwilling charge.

“There,” he declared after a while, one hand gently supporting Crosshair’s palm, the other patting reassuringly over the back of his knuckles. “Better?”

“I suppose,” the 99 grit out begrudgingly, teeth clenched around his toothpick.

Mayday shot a coy glance up at him though his long lashes. Carefully he folded Crosshair’s fingers over his own, holding his hand clasped gently as he bowed his head to brush chapped lips over the sniper’s pinkening skin. He didn’t once drop his gaze from Crosshair’s.

At the gesture, the sniper’s ears flushed as pink as his now-warmed fingers. High spots of colour appeared in his pale cheeks, and something unreadable gleamed in his dark brown eyes.

“Want me to do the other one?” Mayday murmured, as he released Crosshair’s left hand.

“I s’pose,” muttered the sniper disdainfully, but he shifted the rifle to his shoulder as he replaced his left glove and then offered his right hand instead.

As Mayday eased his gauntlet off, he began with a kiss to the knuckles.

“Don’t worry.” His voice was a low, reassuring hum, pitched so only the two clones, stood close as they were, could hear. “I’ve got your back. We’ll get off this blasted iceball planet together. You’ll see.”

This time, as the commander’s warm hands cupped his own and his lips traced reverent affection down each long finger, Crosshair didn’t complain at all.

[diagnosed-ordinary]

Something Sweet

Written for @badbatch-holiday-exchange for @blaze-echo (~1,100 words)

Hello, I'm not your official gift partner but here is a bonus fic this holiday season, I hope you enjoy! <3

The prompt I took inspiration from:- cuddles, baking, nightmares, HuntEcho (if you squint)

Read Here on AO3

Banner by the awesome @the-little-moment!

Pabu (post S3)

Echo woke groggily, disgruntled by the sudden light from the main room spilling through the cracked door and the notable absence of Hunter from his bed. He rubbed a bleary hand across his face, trying to bring himself to full wakefulness, and turned up the volume on his neural implant to bring his hearing back online.

Usually, visiting Pabu was a chance to switch off and relax. Working with Rex in the clone rebellion, always needing to be ready to leave for a mission or analyse new intel at a moment’s notice, would leave anyone on edge – and he never tuned out his hearing. Here though, knowing that Hunter’s enhanced senses would warn him of anything long before he could have sensed it himself, he felt safe enough to let his world fall silent.

Quiet night house sounds filtered through the audio processor – the lapping of waves outside Hunter’s little coastal house, the hum of the air conditioner sleepily pushing warm air around the central room. Echo identified the out-of-place noise that would have pulled Hunter from his bed; the kind of snuffling, hiccoughing breathing that spoke of somebody trying desperately not to cry out loud.

Swinging his stumps over the edge of the bed, he leaned down to retrieve his prosthetic legs and reattach them. If he’d read the situation right, he would be needed right about –

Hunter reappeared in the main room, Omega in his arms as he rubbed her back soothingly. He was pacing absentmindedly, and as he turned towards his own room he met Echo’s wry smile with an apologetic faux-wince.

Turning his face into the untidy blonde mop of Omega’s hair, Hunter continued to murmur reassurances in that gravel voice, too low for Echo to make out the words. His pacing slowed and he sank down into the sofa cushions, depositing Omega next to him and pulling back a little as she nodded, squeezing his hand.

Echo clicked the prosthetics into place, the slight sting of the nerve endings connecting with electrical servos barely an afterthought, and pushed to his feet. His chosen path took him past Hunter and Omega, trailing his hand affectionately along the former’s shoulders, ruffling the hair of the latter, and to the small kitchenette.

“Mug cakes?” he asked, to no-one in particular, already compiling the necessary ingredients from the untidy cupboards and countertop.

“Mug cakes,” agreed Omega firmly, flashing a smile despite her tear-streaked cheeks.

He knew exactly how she felt. The number of times his subconscious mind had trapped him in the past, only to wake and try and shrug it off because there was no point dwelling on it… Hunter said that Omega’s nightmares were becoming less frequent, and the girl showed no signs of lingering distress during the day. But even one as resilient as she was not unaffected by her time in Tantiss.

Soft footfalls padded over and Omega appeared at his side, reaching out without needing invitation to retrieve three sturdy mugs and start measuring out ingredients. The mug cakes were inevitably a messy affair, more a source of comfort than of culinary haute cuisine, but they had become something of a routine.

The recipe had arrived on Pabu with a refugee family and quickly spread amongst the island populace, many families trialling different variations to suit their own diet and culture, thrilled to have discovered the quick and easy treat. Tech had compiled a datalog of the various flavour combinations that sprung up in the community, then proceeded to rank them in order of nutritional content – “Or lack thereof, considering that most of this is empty calories” – and ease of make. Wrecker told him he was taking the whole thing too seriously and proceeded to sample every single variety before adding his own tasting notes to Tech’s log.

Hunter’s hand in the small of his back made Echo straighten a little, then smile. The long-haired former sergeant hovered just behind them, leaning a little over Omega’s shoulder as she mixed the simple batter in each mug.

“Omega’s first,” said Echo, taking the girl-clone’s favourite mug and depositing it in the small microwave. A couple of beeps and then the machine whirred to life, turntable slowly rotating as it began to cook the midnight treat.

Omega wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, and squeezed hard. Echo refrained from making the usual joke about his metallic chest implant being uncomfortable to hug, and wrapped both his left and truncated right arm around her.

“You’re okay, kid,” he said, a gruff older brother giving a pep talk to his little sister. Omega nodded, and looked up at him with a wobbly but determined smile.

“I know,” she said softly, some of the chirpiness coming back to her voice. “The nightmares are never as bad when you’re around, Echo.”

Over her head, he glanced at Hunter, catching the other clone smiling benignly.

“They never are,” agreed Hunter, stepping close to bracket her in his embrace also, the two of them sandwiching Hunter’s young charge between them.

For a moment their peaceful embrace lingered, Omega’s breathing settling into a calmer rhythm, before the ding of the microwave pulled them all from their reverie.

“Mine next,” declared Echo, pulling the hot mug from the appliance and handing it to Omega.

Omega deposited herself on the sofa again, and immediately reached for the remote.

“We should watch a holo!” she declared, all traces of her abrupt awakening gone from her voice.

“It’s the middle of the night,” said Hunter, voice wavering between stern and unsure.

Echo shrugged. “We’re awake anyway.”

Hunter rolled his eyes, but didn’t press the issue. Echo’s visits were a treat, and rules that he was usually stricter about often went by the wayside.

By the time all three cakes were cooked, the three clones crammed into the two-seater sofa, spooning bland but satisfying cake batter into their mouths.

“Ready–” Omega’s question was interrupted by a yawn. “–to start the holo?”

Echo shot a knowing smile at Hunter over her head, which Hunter returned with a grin of his own. Last time this had happened Omega had been asleep before long, curled up with her head on Hunter’s shoulder, before the two full-grown clones fell asleep too and the three of them spent an uncomfortable day the next day stretching out the kinks from sleeping slouched on the sofa.

“Ready,” said Echo, chiming his mug to hers.

“Ready,” echoed Hunter with a smile, and with the lights dimmed and the blue glow of the screen lighting the room, the three of them curled up on the sofa safe in each other’s presence.