“Mm, right, the plan,” Fives replies solemnly, “What step are we on?”
“Twenty-three, but we’d be on twenty-four if you got your ass out of bed to go cause chaos like a good trooper,” Echo shoots back, his wit infuriatingly intact even before 0600.
Echo punctuates his words with a kiss to Fives’ sternum, so Fives decides to withhold his retort. For now.
“Alright, alright,” Fives grumbles.
or
Fives thinks he might be the strongest soldier in the GAR. Not for any military achievements or accolades, and not even because he wears two prestigious pauldrons and a kama, but because he has to untangle himself from Echo in the early morning.
He'll steal just one more moment, first. The galaxy can wait.
“Good.” He loosens his grip and strokes up Wolffe’s shaft, circles one gloved finger around his head, dips into his slit. “Good. Now, what do you want?”
Wolffe lets his head drop back between his shoulders and groans.
This series is going to be loosely based on Taylor Swift's new album; and by loosely, I mean you probably won't notice while you're reading. It won't go in order either--I'm starting with the songs I think speak more to the clones and leaving the harder ones for last lol. Check them all out!
As with my romantic prompts series, please feel free to send in requests if you have a song you definitely want included/to have a certain ship. I have a vague idea of what I want, but I am open to suggestions!
18. "We have just met and yet it feels like I have known you for a lifetime."
Pairing: Thorn x Fox
Rating/WC: T/2082
Warnings: None <3
Notes: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out! I really really struggled with this prompt, but I hope I did it justice!
~~~
Fox rubs at the spot on his forehead just above his brow, trying to soothe the oncoming headache. He’s been awake too long, a couple rotations at least, and his caf is starting to have less of a useful effect on him. He sips at his now cold drink anyway, choking it down without wincing.
His new commander should be here sometime soon, fresh out of ARC training, and he’ll take a good chunk of Fox’s responsibilities off his plate. He and his commanders are already stretched way too thin.
“Sir?” greets him from the doorway to his office, and Fox looks up from his datapad to see Stone. “Did you stay here all night?”
Fox grumbles and looks back down to his report, sipping his caf again. “I’m almost done with these reports.”
“We’re going to have to sit through another lecture from Patchup about the use of stims, sir,” Stone says with a tired tone, crossing his arms over his chest. “Again.”
Fox makes an affronted noise. “I haven’t used any stims, thank you very much.” He downs the rest of his cold caf, curling his lip in disgust and putting his mug back down. “I’ve been banned for life, Patchup thinks my heart will give out.”
“You just chugged half a cup of caf right in front of me,” Stone says, unimpressed.
“That isn’t a stim, though, is it?” Fox asks, looking up from his report to shoot Stone a grimace. It’s as close to a smile as Fox has gotten in a very long time, it feels like. Maybe since they left Kamino.
“It’s adjacent,” Stone argues, but doesn’t bother pushing it. “You need sleep. When was the last time you took a break?”
“What day is it?” he only half jokes, looking back to his report and swiping to the next page. He does not need to be reading this; a shiny could understand this banthashit and forge his signature, surely. “I took a nap at my desk a while ago, I’m fine.”
“I can’t wait for your new XO to get here, he’ll force you to actually delegate.” Stone steps into the room, uninvited, and sits at one of the chairs in front of Fox’s desk. “You can share some of the work, you know.”
“Then we’ll all be here late,” Fox mumbles, skipping to the bottom and sighing in relief when he realizes he only has a few paragraphs left. He finds where he left off and keeps reading. “Everyone is already overworked as it is.”
“You’re completely ridiculous,” Stone says, and Fox glares at him. “Sir,” he adds, as if that will make the statement less court-marshall worthy. “If you gave me even a couple extra tasks, you’d be able to take a night off. Do you even remember what the barracks look like? The boys miss your pretty face.”
Fox rolls his eyes, looking back down at his report and skimming the last few paragraphs to make sure it’s still very unimportant. He submits it and clicks on the next one-the last one, thankfully. “I do give you extra tasks, just not enough that we would both be here half the night. And I don’t sleep in the barracks anyway.”
“Ah, yes, my mistake Mr. Marshall-Commander, you’re above us grunts. Forgot.”
Fox makes a disgusted noise, looking up at Stone and throwing his datapad down. “Stone.”
Stone has the decency to actually look regretful, raising his hands in surrender. “Fine, too far. You could visit, every now and then, you know. Be good for morale.”
Fox works his jaw, going back to his last report. If Stone weren’t here, he might be done already, and he might be napping in his chair by now. Maybe, probably. “No it wouldn’t. They go all quiet when I’m around and it’s awkward.”
Stone shifts, wanting to deny it badly. “They just respect you, is all.”
“They’re scared I’ll bite,” Fox argues, baring his teeth in a mock of a smile just to demonstrate. “I piss people off, that’s my whole personality.”
“No,” Stone argues immediately, shooting Fox a real smile. He leans back in his chair and puts his boots on the desk- the heathen -and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ve never managed to piss me off, and I’m very easy to piss off.”
“I don’t try to piss people off, I just always seem to.” Fox says, and then makes a face. “Well, the men anyway. My life’s purpose is to annoy Cody and Wolffe as much as humanly possible.”
Stone snorts at that, cocking his head to the side. “They’re funny when you piss them off, though. They’re so patient with literally everyone else, but you simply breathe and they start to get pissy.”
Fox hums, scrolling on the report and mostly skimming. “Batchmates are just different, I guess. Easier to annoy, I know all their buttons.”
“I’ve heard natborns say that’s what having siblings is like,” Stone adds, brows furrowed in thought. “My batchmates were the same way, I guess.”
Fox tenses his shoulders, all amusement leaving his body at once. This is potentially his very least favorite topic, either tied with or just behind discussing his own emotions and feelings with anyone. “Anyway, they’re uncomfortable when I’m around. Cody and Wolffe say their troopers are the same way, unless it’s their personal squad. Like you,” Fox says, nodding at Stone’s boots. “You’re obviously comfortable around me.”
Stone rolls his eyes but puts his feet back on the floor, leaning his elbows on the desk instead. “Very. The Big Bad Fox isn’t really all that intimidating, if you get to know him.”
“Don’t you have your own work to do?” Fox bites, rolling his shoulders. His tone is harsher than it had been, even if Stone knows him well enough to know it’s still mostly playful. “Because I have a few suggestions on what you could do instead of-”
“Commander Fox?” comes from his doorway, and Fox’s head snaps to the newcomer. He’s in full kit, including his kama but missing his pauldron. Understandable; a lot of clones find it more annoying and distracting than anything, himself included. “Am I interrupting?”
Stone stumbles to his feet and stands at attention, arms stiff at his sides. Fox has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the caught expression on his face. This newcomer technically doesn’t outrank Stone; he may be Fox’s new XO, but they would both be commanders. Fox is the only clone in Red who would outrank either of them.
“No,” Fox answers, standing up himself slowly and placing his datapad down. “Commander Stone was just leaving. Right, Commander?”
“Yes, sir,” Stone says, turning to face Fox with a click of his heels. His hand comes up to salute Fox, but the face he gives Fox is nothing short of unprofessional. He slides his helmet on and turns, nodding to the newcomer before leaving the office.
The new commander lets him pass, and then enters the office and shuts the door behind him. He stands at a parade rest, arms crossed behind his back at the wrists. “Commander Fox, I’ve been sent to report to you. I’ll be serving with the Guard under your command for the rest of the war.”
Fox nods, wishing he had his own helmet on right now. It’s always served as a shield for him, one which is far more necessary when dealing with the senate than on the battlefield. It would be rude, though, and might be seen as dismissive. “I was told I would be getting a new commander soon. What’s your name? Do you have one yet?”
The new commander pulls his helmet off, and Fox has to fight to not gasp. He’s gorgeous. He’s grown his hair out long, and the curls reach just below his chin. He’s either died them or he’s like Captain Rex with a mutation, but they’re blond and they look soft. His eyes are bright and full of life, curious maybe. The way he sets his jaw is different from the rest of them, and he holds himself more confidently than the average clone.
He’s simply gorgeous, and it’s incredibly distracting.
“Thorn,” he answers, a small smile growing on his lips. He tucks his helmet under his arm, and cocks his head to the side. “They didn’t tell you?”
Fox swallows thickly and tries to collect himself before he does something embarrassing. Like drool. He clears his throat, looking down at his reports before making eye contact again. “Might have, it’s um. I’ve looked at a lot of reports in the last few rotations.” He doesn’t mention that he hasn’t slept in that time, nor has he been taking note of anything less important than an assignment that requires decisions from him.
“Hm,” Thorn says, his smile growing and amusement coloring his tone. “Heavy workload, then?”
“I wouldn’t- it- yeah. Sure.” Fox looks away, internally cursing himself for his decision not to sleep. He couldn’t make this more awkward if he tried. “Lots of paperwork. It won’t be so bad with another commander to help.”
“Oh good, I love paperwork,” Thorn snarks, making Fox look back up at him. “I sure am glad I went through all that ARC training to do desk work.”
Fox rolls his eyes, forgetting his decorum for a moment. Usually it takes someone like Cody or Stone to make him forget himself like this, to make him feel comfortable enough to be human. Must be the sleep deprivation. “Welcome to the Guard, where the action is limited and the paperwork is infinite.”
“You should have been a salesman,” Thorn says, cocking his hip out and resting his helmet on it. “All that charm is going to waste here.”
“You’ll get it soon,” Fox says, trying not to bristle. He doesn’t know this clone, especially not well enough to be this sarcastic yet. “You’ll love the monotony and predictability of the job, it definitely doesn’t suck the life out of you.”
“Aw, come on, it can’t be that bad. I’ve heard some horror stories being spread around the GAR. Handsy senators, riotous prisoners, the whole nine yards.” Thorn smiles, really smiles, and Fox cannot breathe for a second. “I’m sure I’ll love it here.”
Fox feels a smile start to grow on his own face; a combination of seeing Thorn’s beautiful smile and the amusement from this conversation. He feels his shoulders relax, his whole body relax for the first time in a very long time. Thorn’s eyes widen fractionally, and his smile grows to show off his teeth. “I hope you will,” he adds after a pause just a bit too long. He’s pretty sure it’s obvious how infatuated he is.
Thorn’s eyes flit between Fox’s, and his smile melts into something more fond. “I know I will, if you’re here with me.”
Fox’s eyes widen and he swallows thickly. Shit. He’s never been flirted with, he doesn’t really know how to do this. But he really wants Thorn to keep doing it. “It’s good to- I’m glad you’re, uh,” Fox winces, wishing his brain was actually working right now instead of whatever it’s doing in this sleep-deprived haze. “I’m glad you’re here with me-too.”
Thorn laughs, eyes bright, and Fox actually gasps quietly at the sound. “We have just met, and yet it feels like I have known you a lifetime,” Thorn says, his smile dazzling.
Fox swallows, feeling like his heart might beat out of his chest. “I- I feel the exact same way.” And he doesn’t have the words to describe why that means so much, why this is so absurd for Fox.
Thorn smiles again, moving his helmet from under one arm to the other. “I’ve never been to Coruscant before, are there any good places to eat? It’s almost lunch time.”
Fox huffs a laugh, looking down at his datapad and thinking. He quickly sends the last report to Stone and turns it off, before looking up again. “I do, actually. Can I take you to one?”
“What a wonderful idea,” Thorn agrees, slipping his helmet back on before opening the door. “I can show you my quarters too, so I can change into civvies.”
Fox swallows thickly, putting his own helmet on. He definitely wants to see the inside of Thorn’s quarters. Maybe after lunch, though. “Lead the way, then,” he says, and ignores the glare Stone sends him from his own desk.
“Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever, you idiotic dunce!”
“I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?” “I mean, I’m fine so it’s okay—” “No, it’s not okay. Not when I feel like I’m going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you’ve hurt yourself.“
“Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.” “You… What?”
“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?”
“Trust me, I’m also trying to understand how in the shit this happened.”
“…This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you.”
“I’m going to need you to stop for one second because I just find it so incredibly rude that you think I’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass. Are you a brick? Because you’re dense as fuck.”
“Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.”
“Yeah, well, If I could, I’d lose feelings for you. But it’s not that easy. It’s not that easy to just let go of someone you’ve held onto for so fucking long.”
“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”
Bunks of the GAR! Rex visiting Cody 🥰 The Marshall Commander does not doodle on his walls… but someone left behind their teacup!
Some feels:
Shortly after this, Rex falls asleep and Obi-Wan stops by Cody’s quarters to grab a report/ drop off a data pad. Cody is just kind of trapped there with Rex but he hand signals with Obi-wan to direct him to wherever to put/grab the report and Rex sleeps through their exchange because he is just SO RELAXED and safe and comfortable and I will be launching myself into the sun now T_T
[Image ID: a digital illustration of Cody and Rex lying down in Cody’s bunk. Rex is on his stomach with Cody on his side behind him, his arms and one leg wrapped around Rex. On the floor in front of them is a simple teacup and a datapad. End ID]
I love characters who act selfishly to protect the people they love. Absolutely will 1000% hit that trope like a line of coke. I have no moral qualms about this.
17. "For years I have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence."
Pairing: Dogma x Tup
Rating/WC: G/4545
Warnings: internalized ableism, experienced ableism, mild self-hatred, angst, angst with a happy ending.
Notes: This is a request made by LuminousBug on ao3. The request was for autistic Dogma saying this line. While I have written autistic characters before, I have never written a story from the POV of an autistic person. For this first time, I chose to use what my sister describes as her personal experience, and go from there.
LuminousBug, I hope you like this one!
~~~
Tup has nightmares about it. He tosses and turns, and sometimes he wakes up with a jolt, as if he were physically dragged out of sleep somehow. Sometimes he has tears on his face, the emergency lights glinting off of his cheeks in a way it normally doesn’t. Sometimes he’s panting and gasping for breath, chest heaving from running away from the torture his mind put him through. Sometimes he rolls over and tries to go back to sleep; sometimes he has to get up and cool off, heading to the ‘freshers to wash his face or perhaps take a full shower. Sometimes he just lays on his back and breathes, staring up at the bunk above him.
For the longest time, Dogma wanted to crawl into bed beside him, like when they were little and allowed to share their pods with their batchmates. He wanted to lay beside Tup and tell him that it would be okay, that he would keep watch and make sure Tup was safe. That he killed Krell, and the fallen jedi can’t hurt him or any of their brothers ever again. That he’ll find a way to make sure they never find themselves on such a horrible, rotten planet ever again. That he’ll convince General Skywalker to only go to the pretty planets, the ones with the flowers Tup likes so much. Or maybe the ones with millions or billions of bugs, so he can tell Tup about each and every one of them, so he doesn’t have time to be afraid.
Tup likes listening to Dogma talk. Not a lot of their brothers do. Some of them are nicer, they let Dogma talk anyway and they don’t tell him to shut up. Like Echo and Fives. But Tup actually likes listening to Dogma talk, no matter what he decides to talk about or for how long. He nods along and makes noises that Dogma has learned means someone is listening but doesn’t want to interrupt. He even asks questions sometimes or adds something he knows too.
But Dogma doesn’t really know how to say any of the things he really wants to say. Sometimes, when Dogma says how he thinks or feels, his brothers look at him with wide eyes or curled lips. Sometimes they don’t really look at him, except from the corner of their eyes as they face away. Dogma knows that this happens sometimes, but he’s never been able to understand what was wrong about what he says, or how to avoid doing it again in the future. It’s very frustrating, really. Dogma is very good at following rules, if only he could figure out what the rules were. No one can tell him, either, it seems like. The closest he got was when Kix told him ‘we just know the rules, and know when someone breaks them. There isn’t a list or anything.’
He had told Kix that his commentary was extremely unhelpful, and Kix had sighed and told him that was a rule Dogma just broke. It isn’t polite to tell someone they’re being unhelpful.
Which doesn’t make any sense at all, because his brothers seem to have no issue with telling Dogma when he’s being unhelpful. Rex, especially, when he used to come to him and tell him all the rules and regulations his brothers were breaking.
Sometimes, when Dogma tells people that he likes them, they react positively. When he had told Echo that he found his presence comforting after Echo had asked why Dogma had just come in to sit with him without saying anything, Echo had smiles and told him that was very nice of him to say. But when he had told Sergeant Appo almost the same thing, he had gotten that same look on his face that Dogma thinks means something between horror and discomfort.
He wants to tell Tup that he would do anything for him, that he would die if it would help Tup. But when he had said something similar to Hardcase, the other soldier had told him not to say things like that. That Dogma wasn’t going to die, and especially not for him.
Tup whimpers in his sleep, and Dogma looks over the side of his bed to look at him. He frowns, wanting to fix it. He isn’t sure that he can. He’s already reminded Tup several times that they will never go back to Umbara, and that Krell is dead and cannot hurt them. It does not seem to make a difference. Tup still has the nightmares.
Dogma cushions his hands under his head, laying on his side and watching Tup twitch and wince in his sleep. His eyes flit to a new source of movement, and notices Fives staring at him. He has a frown on his face, and he pulls Echo closer to his chest. Echo scrunches his nose, blinking his eyes open and whispering something. Fives whispers something back, and Echo’s eyes find Dogma.
Dogma moves his eyes back to Tup, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. If they’re talking about him, then that’s fine. He trusts Echo to be nice to him, and he mostly trusts Fives too.
Tup whimpers and his fist clenches and unclenches on his chest. Dogma watches him, wishing yet again that he could save Tup from his nightmares. He wonders if Tup would even want him to, if Dogma could figure out how.
The next morning, he sits down next to Tup and across from Hardcase. He likes Hardcase a lot, because he also talks for a very long time sometimes and sometimes that’s good because Dogma doesn’t have to think about what’s the right thing to say.
He does that now, talking more at Tup and Dogma than to them, about what he’s going to do today and what weapons he wants to train with and asks if they’re going to join him for sparring later without pausing to let them really answer. Tup nods along occasionally, chewing his breakfast slowly. Dogma just watches him talk, mostly his hands and how he uses them so often when he speaks.
Echo sits next to him some time later, and Fives sits next to Hardcase. “You definitely need a sparring partner,” Fives chimes in, interrupting Hardcase. Dogma fights back the annoyance that flares through him. It isn’t polite to interrupt people, he’s been told that lots of times. Why does Fives get to do it? “All that energy in you today, you need to get it out.”
Hardcase laughs, which only confuses Dogma more, and knocks elbows with Fives. “Offering yourself up, vod? It's been a minute since I’ve put you on your ass.”
Dogma takes a bite of his breakfast, then puts his fork down carefully on his tray. He pushes it just a bit so it’s more straight on the tray, then folds his hands in his lap.
“You wish,” Fives scoffs, shoving at his arm playfully. “I’ll destroy you.”
Dogma’s nose twitches, and he turns to look at Tup. Tup is always much more interesting than anything else going on. Plus, Dogma just likes to look at him. Tup looks very appealing.
Tup pauses in his chewing to look at Dogma, then resumes and swallows. “You okay?” he asks softly.
Dogma nods, moving his eyes to Tup’s bun. He likes Tup’s hair. It’s against the regulations, but Tup thinks it’s pretty. Besides, Rex would be the last person to lecture them about their hair. His hair is naturally against regulations, but he also chooses to buzz it far shorter than the rules require.
“Dogma?” Echo calls, and Dogma turns to give Echo his full attention. “When is your shift today?”
“1200 to 1800. Third shift. I am to report to the hangar for inventory duty.” Dogma feels himself relax a bit, already appreciating the most structured portion of his day. His brothers all appreciate the shorter shifts of space travel, but Dogma doesn’t. Sometimes, when Rex has the time, he will give Dogma an extra schedule-one in which accounts for every hour of his day, including when he is meant to spend time in the gyms and when he is meant to spend time in the barracks to relax. Rex is, however, a very busy man; he is the Captain of the 501st legion, even though that title shouldn't exist. Rex is supposed to be a commander of the 501st legion, and a captain is supposed to be in charge of a company. Technically the 501st is a battalion, back when their general was still a commander working under the larger 212th legion. But General Skywalker chose to keep the 501st and Captain Rex, and therefore the technicalities stopped mattering to most people.
This is one of things Dogma isn’t supposed to talk about anymore.
“So that means you have some time before your shift starts, right?” Echo clarifies.
Dogma nods. “It’s currently firstmeal, first served at 0500 and open until 0700, so I have several hours.” He sees Fives roll his eyes in his peripheral vision, and silently wonders what he said that was wrong.
“I have second shift,” Tup mumbles, squinting his eyes to read the chronometer on the wall. “I still have half an hour,” he declares, turning back to his meal.
Dogma watches him, wondering how Tup can have such a loose internal drive for knowing the time and being where he is supposed to be. He wishes he knew how to not care all that much, like his brothers. They’re usually never late; Tup is never late, but he doesn’t worry or panic about it.
Hardcase is like him in this way. He’s always checking the chronometer, always double checking that he’s not late or meant to be somewhere. He is, however, often late. Or half an hour early, depending on the day.
“Will you come with me and Fives to the gym after we finish eating?” Echo asks. Dogma is grateful he phrased it like that. Sometimes Dogma forgets that ‘can you’ is also a request to do something instead of inquiring about his ability.
“Yes,” Dogma agrees, grabbing his fork. “I still need to log six hours in the gym before the end of the week.”
“It’s only Taungsday,” Hardcase reminds Dogma. “Not even halfway through.”
“I know,” Dogma says, giving Hardcase a smile. Hardcase was not insulting Dogma’s knowledge, Dogma had a hard time accepting. Hardcase just appreciates reminders like that sometimes, so he gives them out.
“We aren’t even halfway through,” Tup repeats suddenly, groaning and rubbing at his forehead. “I’m so tired. When is our next leave?”
Dogma perks up, turning his full attention to Tup. “Two more standard weeks after this one,” he supplies. “Assuming our next campaign does not get extended, which we should land for on Primeday.”
Tup sighs, and Dogma wonders if he’s complaining about the upcoming campaign or if Dogma has said something wrong. He takes another bite of breakfast and clatters his fork against his tray. Dogma watches him swallow and then check the chrono again, before standing. “Come on Hardcase, we better get geared up and head down there.”
“I have second shift too?” Hardcase asks, shoveling the rest of his food in his mouth in a panic.
How he wasn’t aware of that, Dogma can’t begin to imagine, but he knows he isn’t supposed to say that.
“How did you not know that?” Fives asks, slapping a hand on Hardcase’s back and making the other man choke a bit. “Hopeless, vod.”
Hardcase swallows thickly, and glares at Fives. “Fuck off,” he says, somehow both much meaner and kinder than if Dogma had said the same thing. He stands as well and collects his things on the tray, before waving at them. “I’ll see you guys at latemeal.”
Dogma waves back, and watches him head to the receptacle. He turns to Tup, who collects his tray and smiles at Dogma. “See you later, Dogma.” He looks over Dogma’s shoulder, nodding at the others. “Later.” Dogma watches him leave, sprinting a few steps to catch up with Hardcase.
“Bye,” Fives calls, scooting to take over Hardcase’s seat. Dogma fights the urge to say something; he doesn’t understand why Fives would feel the need to change seats. He already had a perfectly good one.
“Dogma?” Dogma turns his gaze to Echo, who’s smiling at him. “Is it okay if we talk a bit before we go to the gym?”
“Yes, it’s recommended to wait at least half an hour to perform any physical activity after eating,” Dogma says, though he’s sure Echo already knew that. He likes to read the regs just as much as Dogma does.
“Right,” Fives says, tapping his fingers on the table. Dogma wishes he wouldn’t; he doesn’t like the lack of rhythm. It seems random, the way his fingers land on the hard surface. But Dogma fidgets as well, and he knows it annoys his friends; though they never say anything. Usually. “Listen, Dogma, I wanted-Echo and I wanted to talk with you about something specific.”
“Okay,” Dogma says, putting his fork down again. He looks at Fives until the other man looks down, and then turns to look at Echo. “Am…I supposed to choose the topic?”
Echo laughs softly, a smile on his face. Dogma doesn’t think it’s mean. Usually a smile has more teeth if someone is laughing at him instead of simply finding Dogma funny. “No, we just-we were arguing over who should start.”
“But you weren’t arguing…?” He means to say it as a statement of fact-because it was one-but it turns into a question as he trails off, because he doesn’t think Echo would lie to him.
“I’ll start,” Fives says, making Dogma look at him. “You have a staring problem.”
Dogma looks down at his tray immediately, wringing his fingers together under the table. Dogma has trouble with appropriate eye contact. He finds it difficult to do with people he isn’t very comfortable with, and he has a hard time knowing how much is too much and how much makes people think he isn’t listening. He didn’t think it bothered his friends anymore, after he revealed his difficulties.
“Fives,” Echo says, almost hisses, before turning to Dogma. “Not at us, Dogma. You’ve made a lot of progress about that with us, actually, it seems to be a lot easier for you.”
It isn’t any easier, but he knows that’s supposed to be a compliment. Dogma feels warm, and itchy, and the sounds of the mess hall are starting to be too loud.
“Dogma?” Echo whispers, and he looks up slowly. Echo gives him a small smile, reaches out to touch him before thinking better of it and running a hand through his own hair instead. “What Fives meant to say was that you seem to stare at Tup, specifically, a lot.”
Dogma pulls at his thumb, looking between him and Fives. “Okay…and that’s a problem?” he asks.
“Yes,” Fives answers, placing both hands flat on the table. “It’s weird, it makes him uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” Dogma says, looking to his lap as he pulls at his fingers. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”
“Is there a reason you stare?” Echo asks softly, scooting a bit closer. “Like last night, we saw you staring at him. Was there a reason?”
“I like to watch him sleep,” Dogma says easily, wincing at Fives’s scoff.
“Come on, you have to know that sounds creepy!” Fives says.
Dogma frowns, feeling himself squirm. “He has nightmares,” Dogma whispers, half hoping Fives doesn’t hear him.
“Is that why you stare?” Echo asks, moving his hand so Dogma sees it and looks up. “Because you’re worried about him?”
Dogma nods, feeling relief at Echo knowing how to say what he doesn’t. “I want to help, but I don’t know how. I don’t want-” he looks to Fives and then back to Echo. “I don’t want him to think I’m weird.”
Fives sighs, making Dogma look at him again. “I’m sorry, Dogma, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just-I’m just protective of Tup. He’s my best friend.”
“I thought Echo was your best friend.” Dogma says, forgetting to accept Fives’s apology.
Fives hesitates, eyes wide with that mix between horror and discomfort Dogma hates inducing, and looks to Echo. “Well…”
“Dogma?” Dogma turns to look at Echo. “Fives and I, we um…we’re dating. Fives is my partner. Did you know that?”
Dogma frowns. “Yes, that’s why you share a bunk even though you’re not supposed to.” Echo ducks his head, and Dogma feels bad. “I’m not going to tell, I was just saying.”
Echo smiles, looking up again. “I know you won’t tell. It was just the way you phrased it was-it was kind of funny.” Dogma cocks his head to the side, but Echo shakes his head. “Nevermind. My point was that-Fives cares about Tup very much, but not in the same way that he cares about me.”
“Okay,” Dogma says, although he doesn’t really understand why any of this is relevant.
“Dogma, I’m just going to ask it plainly,” Fives says, and Dogma turns to look at him. “Do you care about Tup in the same way that Echo and I care about each other?”
Dogma nods. “Yes, I do. I love him very much.”
Fives’s jaw drops, and his eyebrows move up his forehead. Echo makes a surprised noise, and Dogma turns to look at him instead. “You love Tup?”
“Of course I do,” Dogma says, furrowing his brow at their reactions. “Why are you surprised? He’s very nice to me. He makes me feel safe. He’s my favorite person in the whole galaxy.”
“Why haven’t you told him, if you’re so sure?” Fives asks, voice slightly higher pitched than normal. “It’s not obvious that you…are sure about, we couldn’t tell for sure.”
“Oh, no,” Dogma says, looking down to his hands. “No, I can’t do that. Tup doesn’t deserve that. I’m lucky enough as it is that he’s willing to be my friend.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and Dogma looks up after long enough he wants to leave. Echo and Fives are looking at each other, until Echo finally turns to him with a sigh. “What do you mean, he doesn’t deserve that? Deserve what?”
Dogma shifts, wanting to be anywhere but here. It already makes Dogma sad to think about it inside his head, he doesn’t want to talk about it. “I’m…broken. Inside. I know I’m more of a burden than anything else, I know how much effort everyone puts into being nice to me and figuring out how to talk to me.” He swallows thickly, exhales shakily. He won’t cry, not here. It’s not something he’s supposed to do in front of other people. “I don’t deserve to have Tup love me, and Tup doesn’t deserve to have me be that reliant on him. That extent of a burden. He deserves someone who’s good and who can take care of him and who doesn’t need help figuring out how to do it. Someone who just knows how to comfort him and save him from his nightmares and who doesn’t always say the wrong things and make everyone think he’s creepy and weird.” He looks up, makes a frustrated noise. “Someone who doesn’t make people look at them like you’re looking at me now.”
“Dogma,” Echo whispers, eyes wide and back straight.
Dogma stands abruptly, holding his tray close to his chest. “It’s been thirty minutes, which means we can go to the gym now,” he announces, and leaves without waiting for them to join him. He doesn’t know if he wants them to follow, but he doesn’t know how much it would hurt if they didn’t.
~
“Tup,” someone says, sounding so very far away. “It isn’t your fault.”
“He saved me,” Tup cries, and Dogma wants to cry too. He’s made Tup cry, he’s made him sound so very sad and angry at the same time. “He pushed me out of the way and he got hit because of that. How is it not my fault? He wouldn’t have gotten hurt if he didn’t try and save me.”
“Dogma made a choice,” Kix says, and Dogma is glad he’s able to identify the other voice. They sound clearer, and everything seems a bit brighter than before. “Not you. You can’t blame yourself for something someone else does.”
“I never told him,” Tup sobs, muffled by something. Maybe his hand. “I never told him what he meant to me, I was too scared.”
“He’s not dead, Tup,” Kix says, and Dogma can almost start to feel things again. He thinks he feels something on his hand. He thinks maybe he’s in a lot of pain, if only his brain would register it. “He might wake up. He might be just fine.”
“Might,” Tup whispers, choking after the syllable. Dogma wishes he could remember how to move. He wishes he knew how to help Tup stop crying.
“I’m going to give him another sedative, Tup. I can give you one too, if you want.” Dogma wonders, as everything starts to fade out again and go dark, if he maybe dreamed the whole thing.
When he wakes up, it isn’t as if he’s very far away like the first time. He opens his eyes and sees, and he hears the yelling and shuffling of the med bay. Dogma thinks they must be back on the ship; there are walls and it seems too clean to be on the dusty planet they had been fighting on.
He definitely feels the pain this time, too. It’s all over his entire body, it feels like, and he whimpers softly as his brain finally allows him to register it in full force.
“Dogma?” Tup asks, voice shaky and unsure, so Dogma turns his head to look at him. He has tears in his red rimmed eyes, and bags under them to prove how little sleep he’s gotten lately. His hair is an absolute mess, half out of the bun and dirty, so completely different from the usual care Tup puts into keeping his hair. Tup leans closer, and Dogma realizes Tup is clutching his hand. “Dogma?”
Dogma swallows thickly, winces at how dry his mouth and throat are, and takes a deep breath. “Tup.”
“Kix!” Tup yells, making the whole med bay get a bit quieter. “Kix, he woke up!”
Dogma turns his head slowly to see the CMO running over, a needle in one hand and a datapad in the other. The needle is jabbed into Dogma’s neck and he winces in pain, before Kix is smiling at him. “You gave us a real scare, Dogma. The painstim should kick in soon. How are you feeling?”
“Pain,” Dogma says, trying and failing to sit up, Kix and Tup both rush to help him. “Thirsty.”
Tup reaches behind him and brings a cup with a straw to Dogma’s lips. Dogma drinks a few sips before he starts to feel sick to his stomach, and pushes it away. “Dogma,” Tup whispers.
“What happened? Where are we?” Dogma asks, looking to Kix.
“You got banged up pretty good on the campaign. You’ve been knocked out for a standard week. We won, and the 501st is on our way back to Coruscant. You did great, kid. You’re a hero. You with me?” Kix furrows his brow, waving his hand in Dogma’s face.
Dogma nods slowly, sinking back into the bed. “‘Stim is…working. Doesn’t hurt as bad.”
Kix smiles, patting Dogma’s knee and tapping something into his datapad. “I’ll let everyone know you’re awake, but I’ll give you two a few minutes.” He looks at Tup for a few seconds, before leaving to check on other patients, probably.
Dogma turns his gaze to Tup, frowning when he sees that he’s crying. “Are you-are you hurt? Should we call Kix back?”
Tup makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, reaching out and running the back of his fingers down Dogma’s face. “Why did you do it? Why did you save me? I’m just-I’m just me, why would you ever-” he cuts himself off with a gasp.
Dogma blinks, confusion making his already foggy mind worse. “Just you?” He asks, shaking his head. “Who else would you be?”
Tup laughs, sniffles, holds Dogma’s hand. Dogma realizes that he doesn’t mind it, not one bit. “No, I meant…I meant…How do I say this?” he asks, looking down at their hands. “Why did you save me? You could have died.”
“Because I love you,” Dogma says simply, watching Tup’s face morph into something that isn’t quite discomfort but a little horrified. “I have for a long time. For years I have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence. I didn’t want-didn’t want to burden you with it. But I had to save you. There is no other option.”
“Dogma,” Tup whispers, kind of squeaks, his grip on Dogma’s hand tightening.
“It’s okay that you don’t love me back,” he says, hoping that he hasn’t already scared Tup off from wanting to be his friend. “I know that I’m broken, and I’m a lot to deal with. But that’s why I saved you.”
Tup makes a noise Dogma doesn’t recognize, and suddenly his lips are on Dogma’s and Dogma’s brain kind of stops working.
Tup pulls back after a few minutes, kissing all over Dogma’s face instead, one hand cupping his jaw gently. “Dogma,” he cries, kisses him again, and this time Dogma is ready enough to really pay attention to the kiss. It isn’t gross like he thought he would find it. It’s rather nice, actually. He doesn’t want Tup to ever stop doing it.
He does, though, pulling back and smiling at Dogma. “I love you too, so incredibly much. For so very long. I was just too scared to tell you, because I couldn’t tell if you liked me. I didn’t know if I would make you uncomfortable to be around me anymore, and I wanted you to be comfortable with me so badly. I wanted you to trust me more than anything. I was so scared to ruin that, I never said anything.” Tup pulls Dogma’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles softly. “If I knew that was how you thought of yourself, I would have spent every second of every day telling you how wrong you are.”
Dogma blinks rapidly, reaching up to cup Tup’s face. “You don’t think that I’m…?”
Tup shakes his head rapidly. “I think you’re perfect, Dogma. I love you, and I’ll tell you every single day. I’ll say it until you can’t remember a time when I didn’t. I’ll make you believe it, I’ll make you see how much I love you.”
Dogma feels tears start to build in his eyes. “Will you kiss me again?” he asks.
Tup smiles, and he’s so pretty it makes Dogma gasp. He leans down and connects their lips again, curling their fingers together gently.
Even though he hurts, he hopes this moment never ends. Because Tup is kissing him, and he loves him, and Dogma loves him back, and he’s never been so happy in his entire life.
Warnings: jealousy, mentions of past character death, Fives is kinda angsty at the beginning lol, almost explicit content towards the end.
Notes: Hey guys! I wanted to try a sort of different style this time, push out of my comfort zone a little. Please let me know what you thought!
~~~
“When are you just going to admit you want him?”
Fives had, before this conversation, been under the impression he was incredibly good at hiding how he truly felt. Not just about certain people, but about everything. Before just a few moments ago, in the overcrowded booth in an absurdly dark corner of 79’s, he had viewed himself as a closed book, impossible to read; the type of person to keep his cards close to his chest and put on a perfect sabacc face.
The only person who had ever been able to tell what he was thinking was Echo. None of his other batchmates had ever been able to tell when he was upset, what he was thinking, what he thought of them or anyone else. No one at the Rishi outpost could tell when he was lying through his teeth, was able to call him on his banthashit. Not even Captain Rex had been able to read his face or body language, has always bought any story Fives wove, always chose to believe his words even when he stared at Fives dubiously and tried his hardest to get into Fives’s head.
No one had known about how in love he was with Echo. Not until after it was already too late to matter.
Maybe he simply got worse at it, in the after. Maybe he lost the ability to carefully control every muscle in his face, to keep his eyes light and honest no matter the lie he concocted. Maybe he’s developed a tell since, some tick that his friends he’s made in the after can easily detect. Because before, Echo hadn’t been able to tell him how he knew Fives wasn’t being honest; he just knew.
Echo was just like that. He just knew Fives, inside and out and frontways and backwards.
“What are you even talking about?” Fives asks, carefully molding his smile into his typical teasing smirk, the one he uses when he feels relaxed and safe. Not the one which eventually twists into a mean snarl, the one he only forms when he wants to warn off whoever he’s talking to. The one he meticulously designed to scream back off, you’re getting too close to a flayed nerve. He tosses his arm over the back of the booth, over Jesse’s shoulders, and wraps his other hand loosely around his glass.
“Everyone knows it!” Hardcase almost slurs, his smile big and dopey. It’s one of Fives’s favorite things about him-he smiles with his whole body, pure in his joy. “You’re so gone on him, man.”
Fives scoffs, forces it to sound lighthearted and forces his smile to remain friendly. “We’re friends. He’s my best friend, even.” He laughs at Hardcase’s affronted whine, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “That doesn’t mean I want to be with him.”
“Yeah, you’re friends; but you’re also very in love with him,” Kix chimes in, leaning forward over his drink. Hardcase thanks him for his support by slapping him hard on the back. “You’re different with him than with the rest of us.”
Fives only laughs, plays at being highly amused. If he only denies hard enough, he can make them start to doubt their own convictions. “Yeah? Okay, then what do I do that’s different?”
Jesse, the traitor, turns his head to look at Fives with an evil glint in his eyes despite his fond smile. It’s less threatening than it could be, considering he’s leaning into Fives’s arm and his tongue is slow with the alcohol coursing through his blood. “You notice him, for one thing. You find him, like no matter where we are. It’s kind of funny, actually, we have an ongoing tally of how quickly you’re able to sense Tup’s presence in a room.” He wiggles his fingers at Fives, smiling wider to show his teeth. “Like a jedi, almost. It’s kinda creepy.”
Fives has to work hard to keep his smile playful, to not tighten his jaw. “What does that even mean, Jess?”
“Your record is eight seconds,” Dogma pipes up, always slightly nervous to add to any conversation, as if everyone will tell him his presence is no longer wanted. He’s been like that since Umbara, Fives has noticed. He used to interject his thoughts freely, sometimes despite the actually there obvious discomfort of his friends. He used to speak each and every thought that would enter his head, even when it was abundantly clear to everyone else his presence was truly no longer welcome.
Fives wishes this felt like an improvement, like the answer to the wish they all had silently made back then. It doesn’t.
“That’s hardly noteworthy,” Fives argues, takes a sip from his glass before he continues. “That’s actually pretty bad. There’s no way it takes any of you that long to notice someone else walking through a door.”
“No; we mean like, in the mess hall or here or on a battlefield. No matter how many people are there or where we are or who’s firing at you. You just gravitate to his appearance.” Kix leans back again, smirking. “The eight second record was when we were in the Resolute, there were hundreds of us milling in all at the same time.”
Fives sighs deeply, fighting off the urge to glare or roll his eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything; how do you even know I was looking for him? Maybe I was looking for the general or Rex.”
“How about the fact that you always take every chance you can get to spend your down time with him?” Jesse asks instead, pulling away from Fives again to get a better look at his face. “You’ve blown us off to go find Tup more times than I can count.”
“He’s my best friend,” Fives reminds him, and sharpens his smile meanly. That’s one thing Echo knew about him that no one else seems to: Fives is mean at heart. Cutthroat when he needs to be, viscous even when he doesn’t. It was his idea to try and throw the other Dominoes under the bus and get him and Echo transferred. It was him that knew exactly which sore spots to dig his knife into when Rex needed the extra push to defy Krell; him who took careful notes on Rex’s biggest insecurities and deepest regrets in order to use them later. All while everyone else either doesn’t notice or believes he’s simply being honest. But Fives knows how to push without drawing blood, he knows how to tell the truth without shooting to kill. Sometimes he chooses not to; sometimes he wants to hurt. “How many times have you ditched us to bother Kix in the medbay?”
Jesse’s smile drops, his eyes widen in hurt and confusion. Fives hadn’t needed to flirt the line between exposing Jesse and proving his point; he didn’t need to remind Jesse that Kix hasn’t expressed any sort of reciprocity. That was simply to be mean.
But it was said innocently enough to pass off as a meaningless comparison, perhaps an accident even.
Echo would have side eyed him with disapproval. No one else notices Fives’s cruelty.
“That’s different,” Hardcase cuts in, taking the attention off of Jesse’s faux non-reaction. “Jesse is a lieutenant and Kix is the CMO. They have jobs to do. You and Tup blow us off to hang out together for no reason. You just like him,” he ends the sentence with a teasing grin, finishing the last of his drink.
“You think he’s pretty, too,” Kix interjects, flagging down a waiter and asking for another round. “You stare. You watch him. Like you can’t help it.”
Jesse leans back against the booth, allowing Fives’s arm to stay where it is above him. He doesn’t risk teasing Fives again.
“Especially when he is tying up his hair,” Hardcase does tease, wiggling his eyebrows with a shit eating grin. “But also when he’s running laps, or when he’s sparring, or when he’s eating, or when he’s breathing-”
Dogma laughs at that, drawing Hardcase’s attention to him and that in turn making him blush.
“Tup is very pretty to look at, to be fair,” Jesse mumbles, almost inaudible over the music and chatter of the club. Fives accepts the truce, letting his arm fall to truly rest over Jesse’s shoulders.
“I mean, that vod over there sure seems to think so,” Kix adds, nodding to somewhere over Fives’ shoulder. He hides his smirk behind taking another sip of his drink. Asshole.
Hardcase is significantly less subtle, tearing his eyes away from Dogma to crane his neck and search. “Oh, damn. Get it, Tup!”
Fives feels his blood go cold, and fights the urge to whip around. Instead he turns his head in the direction Kix and Hardcase are looking slowly, feigning only the barest of interest. He wishes he had just allowed his imagination to run wild. It would have been easier to deal with, Fives thinks.
What Tup is doing can hardly be considered dancing. His elbows are resting on his dance partner’s shoulders, both hands weaving his fingers through the slightly longer than regulation hair. Tup’s own hair is half falling out of its messy top bun, certain strands perfectly framing his face. His brilliantly flushed face, with his eyes wide and dark with lust, mouth hanging half open as he pants into his partner’s face.
He’s so beautiful that Fives hurts.
His dance partner has one hand down the back pocket of Tup’s civvies, and the other riding his shirt up his side, exposing some of the skin of his torso to the rest of the club. While they are technically swaying in what could be considered an approximation to the beat of the song, they’re mostly focused on grinding their hips together.
It’s so distracting that Fives forgets himself. Feels his smirk melt into a jealous frown, feels his teeth grind at how tightly he sets his jaw. Tightens his grip on his drink and his other hand forms a fist to rest on Jesse’s shoulder.
Tup’s mouth lifts into a smile at the corners, probably huffs a laugh at whatever the vod said, turns his head to the side and looks up him through his lashes. Leans into it when his dance partner surges forward to connect their lips in what looks like the beginnings of a filthy kiss. One hand leaves the other man’s hair to feel at his abs and run up his chest.
“Fives?” Jesse whispers in Fives’s ear, too quiet to be noticed by the rest of the table; not that they would notice anyway, Fives realizes as he finally tears his gaze away. They’re all transfixed by the sight as well, Kix and Hardcase with amused grins and Dogma with a slightly horrified expression.
Jesse turns so he can whisper directly in Jesse’s ear, using the other man’s face to hide his words should the others turn to see. “Do you guys really think it’s obvious how much I love him?” he double checks, pulling back to watch Jesse’s face. Jesse frowns at him sadly, shooting one longing glance at Kix before making eye contact again. Fives leans back in, bringing his glass closer to his body. “Then why hasn’t Tup noticed?”
Jesse reaches under the table to place a comforting hand on Fives’s knee, lightly knocking their foreheads together. Leans past Fives’s face to reach his ear, to whisper back. “Fuck him, Fives. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
When Fives turns his attention back to the table at large he notices Kix quickly looking away, his own jaw set in a mimicry of Fives’s just seconds ago. If Fives were a good person, he would point it out to Jesse. Encourage him to make his move.
But Fives is mean, and now he’s feeling like taking his jealousy and frustration out on others. He smirks at Kix, knows he’s still looking at them out of the corner of his eyes, and downs the rest of his drink. He leans back into Jesse’s space, his lips brushing the shell Jesse’s ear. “You know I would if I could, Jess.” It makes Jesse smile and blush at the connotation, makes him laugh breathily as he attempts to keep quiet. “Dance with me?” Fives asks instead of excusing himself to wallow alone.
Jesse squeezes Fives’s knee again and nods, finishing his own drink quickly.
Fives scoots out of their booth and offers his hand to help Jesse up, drawing the attention of Hardcase and Dogma. “Going somewhere?” Hardcase asks.
Fives looks to him as an excuse for why he didn’t take a step back, forcing Jesse to stand entirely in his space, the front of his body flush with Fives’s side. “To dance. Wanna come?”
Hardcase’s eyes light up and he turns to Dogma, giving him a small and questioning smile. “Wanna?”
Dogma gives him a small smile back, ducking his head just a bit, and nods. “Maybe not like Tup, though,” he jokes, drawing a loud laugh from Hardcase and small chuckles from the rest of them.
Fives finally steps back, pulling Jesse by the hand to the dance floor and positions them perfectly so he can see Tup and Jesse can see Kix, who stays at the table alone. Neither of them are particularly good dancers, but the beat is loud and fun and the alcohol is making their limbs loose; they find themselves able to mostly copy the moves of their fellow vode, bouncing on beat and twisting their bodies just slightly to mimic some sort of coordination.
It’s fun. His heart is pounding louder than the deafening music, they’re sweating and panting together, blood pumping for a reason unrelated to the war. It’s almost easy to forget everything that’s ever made him miserable, to pretend he’s never felt anything other than how he feels right now, pumped up and excited and a little drunk. Fives gets lost in it, just watches Jesse’s face as he also starts to relax and have fun.
Jesse’s hands fall to his shoulders, and it’s natural for Fives to rest his own hands on Jesse’s hips. Jesse yells something that Fives can’t hear, but he doesn’t need to. Jesse turns them around anyway, and Fives is forced to notice that he hadn’t noticed Tup leaving the dance floor. He’s sitting at the table now, a new drink in hand and face flushed. His hair is completely down now, and he’s talking obliviously to Kix, who’s unabashedly staring at Jesse and Fives dancing.
Someone bumps into Fives, and he stumbles more thoroughly into Jesse’s arms, Jesse locking his wrists together behind Fives’s head. He laughs at their new position, leaning to yell into Fives’s ear. “You can go talk to him, if you want. I can find someone else to dance with.”
Kix glares at him, openly and unashamed, maintaining eye contact with Fives. Fives smirks at him, still feeling mean but seeing a chance to do something nice for Jesse. He keeps eye contact with Kix, raising an eyebrow as he moves his hands to Jesse’s ass and starts to forcibly move Jesse’s hips in a swish he’s sure looks good. He kisses Jesse’s neck, making him shiver, never taking his eyes off of Kix.
“Better stop if you’re not going to follow through,” Jesse warns, tilting his head to expose more of his neck to Fives’s lips anyway.
Kix downs his entire drink, slamming it a bit too harshly back to the table. Come and get it, Fives mouths, before moving his lips up to Jesse’s ear. “Thank me later,” he teases as Kix stands.
“Huh?” Jesse asks, pulling back to look at Fives.
Fives smirks and steps back as Kix comes up, one hand landing on Jesse’s lower back as he leans in, probably to ask for the next dance.
Jesse’s eyes light up and he turns a smile to Fives. Fives winks at him and starts to head back to the table, watching Jesse’s attention be completely monopolized by Kix.
Fives sits and grabs a drink from a passing tray, the waiter turning to cuss him out before scoffing at Fives’s smile. He turns back the way he came and Fives gets to keep his drink. He turns to Tup, fighting to keep his expression neutral despite the sight before him.
Tup’s face is flushed such a pretty shade of pink, framed so deliciously by his sweaty curls. His lips are wet and kiss-swollen, quirked into a genuine smile. His shirt is askew, the collar stretched out and hanging half off his shoulder now. It shows off the light hickeys and bite marks on his neck and shoulder.
“Had fun?” Fives asks, voice aiming for teasing. Misses slightly, hopefully unnoticeable in the loudness of the club.
Tup nods, absolutely beaming, and he’s so beautiful that Fives can’t stop himself from smiling back. Can’t tear his eyes away, despite the jealousy coursing through his blood. “I don’t even know his name!” Tup announces, like it’s something he’s proud of. “He was so much fun.”
Fives takes a couple swigs from his drink, setting it down carefully again. “I thought you were going to take him home,” Fives teases, keeping his smile playful. “Or the ‘fresher, at least.”
Tup flushes darker, biting his lip and looking back out at the dance floor. Fives almost follows his gaze, almost attempts to see the face of the vod that stole Tup’s attention all night. Can’t tear his eyes away, can’t deny himself the view. He’s just so pretty, and Fives gets it now. He gets what his friends were pointing out earlier. He’s not good at hiding how he feels about Tup. It must be pathetically obvious to anyone who’s looking.
Tup suddenly looks back at Fives, his smile gone and gaze so intense that Fives straightens up. “What do I have to do to get you to admit you like me?”
Fives’s eyes widen, and he feels his jaw drop in shock.
Tup cocks his head to the side, eyes looking over Fives’s face. “I know you do. No one else has ever looked at me the way you do. Even when they want me, they don’t look the same. How obvious do I have to be before you get it?”
Fives blinks, and then he feels his face split into an enormous grin. Feels himself start to laugh, feels like the weight of a bantha has been lifted off his chest. He stands and walks to the other side of the booth, forcing Tup to scoot in as he crowds the other man’s space. “Is it so obvious how infatuated I am?” he asks, smirking as he pulls back to see Tup’s face.
His eyes are darkening, and he bites his lip as he takes in Fives’s face. “Pretty obvious,” Tup agrees.
Fives hums, leaning in and gently biting Tup’s earlobe. It pulls a gasp from Tup’s own lips, makes his hand grip at Fives’s wrist. “You’re the most beautiful person alive, Tup. You’re so pretty it hurts, makes me lose my mind.” Tup’s other hand goes to Fives’s neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his skull, grip strong enough that Fives is sure he couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. “I never thought you would ever look at me the same way. I’m yours, love. All you had to do was ask.”
Tup pulls Fives’s hand into his lap, gasping at the initial contact. “Keep talking,” he begs.
Fives smirks, shifting closer and grinding his palm where Tup put it. His other hand slides up Tup’s back under his shirt, feeling how hot and sweaty his skin is. He starts to kiss from just below Tup’s ear down his neck, lips covering the bruises already there. “Everything about you drives me wild, darling. It’s like you were designed with everything I’ve ever wanted kept in mind.” He bites gently at Tup’s shoulder, drawing such a delicious whine from his throat. “God, the noises you fucking make. Indecent. Makes me wonder what else I could pull from you if I tried hard enough.”
“Fives,” Tup gasps, almost moans, head tilted back spreading his legs so Fives can have better access. Shifts, as if he wants to face Fives instead of forwards, but doesn’t want to dislodge Fives’s hand.
“I want to put my mouth on you so bad,” Fives groans, moving his lips back up to Tup’s ear. “I want to make you feel so good that you scream. I want to crawl under the table and make it so obvious what’s happening to you that everyone here notices. I want to know what you taste like, want to know what face you make when I finish you. Want to swallow down everything you give me, until there’s nothing left and you’re squirming to get away. I want-oh!” Fives cuts himself off with a gasp, eyes dark with need, pulling back to greedily watch Tup’s face.
Tup whimpers and bites his lip, shivering and grinding up into Fives’s palm erratically. His face is so red, and his breath is coming so shakily, and his eyes are half closed. “Don’t stop, please, I’m so close, Fives.”
“Here?” Fives asks, licking his lips at just the idea of it. At the knowledge that his words have such a strong effect on Tup. The booth is dark, sure; but it’s still visible.
Tup whines in impatience, fingers tightening on Fives’s wrist, before he shakily pulls the hand away. “Tease,” Tup accuses breathily.
“After the show you put on for me just then with that other vod?” Fives asks, scraping his teeth over one of the darker bruises. “You’re one to talk.”
Tup blushes again, pulling Fives back enough to stare at him with dark eyes. He’s about to respond, opens his mouth to say something, when their little bubble gets so rudely burst.
“Oh, about time!” Hardcase yells, scooting into the booth and pulling Dogma with him. He’s grinning at them, and Dogma even has a knowing blush on his cheeks. “Was starting to think I was the only one with any balls at all in this group.”
Dogma gasps at the language, and Tup only rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Hardcase. Fives shakes his head fondly and points his head in the direction of Kix and Jesse still dancing. “Some of us just need an extra push, is all.” Hardcase and Dogma turn to watch Jesse sticking his tongue down Kix’s throat, both of them having given up on actually dancing. Hardcase starts to whoop loudly, and Dogma even smiles and leans into him, making Jesse flip them off without looking.
Fives uses the distraction to slip out of the booth, pulling Tup with him. “I wasn’t talking just to talk, by the way. Come home with me,” he whispers in Tup’s hair.
Tup flushes and starts pushing at Fives, just to get him moving. “See you guys back at the barracks,” Tup says, then smirks over his shoulder. “Maybe give us a head start,” he warns, earning a surprised bout of laughter from their table.
Fives smiles at him, smitten; he doesn’t know how the night turned out so perfectly, but he’s damn sure not going to question it. He puts his hand on Tup’s lower back and starts to lead them towards the exit instead.
Warnings: injuries, probably incorrect medical procedures, Jesse gets a lil high off pain stims lol.
Notes: This is my first time really trying to incorporate mandoa into one of my fics, and it's also my first time creating OC clones! Apologies for any similarities to anyone else's OC clones.
~~~
“No, vod, the cot on the left of that one. That one is still bloody. Careful with him!” Kix groans in annoyance, applying even more pressure to the poor shiny’s leg he’s currently stitching up. He appreciates when regular troopers try and help him and his team in the med tents, but sometimes he swears they don’t have common sense. “Put him down gently, you don’t want to hurt him, do you?”
“Sorry, sir,” the not-so-helpful trooper says bashfully. “Here, Trench, scoot back a bit…”
“Kix?” Coric asks, walking over with a a med kit. Kix looks away from the mess going on in front of him to look at his fellow medic. “I can take over, if you’re needed elsewhere.”
Kix smiles gratefully, turning his attention back to his patient.“What’s your name, trooper?”
“D-don’t have one, yet. My batch called-” he grunts as his leg spasms, causing Kix to apply even more pressure. “Called me Four-Six, the last two d-digits of my number.”
Kix nods, smiling in reassurance. “Alright, Four-Six. Coric here is going to take over for me, stitch you up and give you a bacta patch. Are you ready?”
Coric opens his med pack and starts applying a band above the wound to help stem the flow for the stitches, nodding at Kix.
“Y-yeah. Thank you, sir,” he mumbles, turning his attention to Coric.
Kix slowly pulls his hands away, allowing Coric to take over. “He still needs a pain stim, do you have one?” At Coric’s affirmative, he leaves them and walks over to the pair of troopers causing havoc in his med tent. “Trench, was it?” Kix asks, politely smacking the friend’s hands away and adjusting the trooper himself.
Trench nods, grimacing in pain. “Y-yeah, that’s me. I got hit in the side with shrapnel from an explosion.” he points to his right side, and his friend awkwardly stands at the head of the cot.
Kix nods and starts to carefuly remove Trench’s upper armor pieces, and hands them to his friend just so the poor kid has something to do. “And what’s your name, vod?”
“Uh…” he looks down at the armor in his hands and then back up at Kix. “Rung, sir.”
Kix hums, grabbing his scissors and turning his attention back to the patient. “Good job bringing your friend in,” he says softly. He cuts off the upper blacks, and hisses through his teeth as he takes in the wound. At least he isn’t actively bleeding out. “Yeah, it got you real good there. Lay back and try to get comfortable, I’m going to get you a pain stim and then I’m going to remove the shrapnel and slap a bacta patch on it. I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but I’ll need to see it once the foriegn bodies out, okay?”
Trench nods, gritting his teeth together in pain. “Sounds good, doc,” he gets out.
Kix nods back and stands up again, going over to his makeshift desk in order to grab the pain stim and his tweezers and tray. He looks over the rest of his patients on the way back to Trench’s bed, making sure they’re all still stable.
“Alright,” Kix says, sitting beside the cot once more. “I’m going to give you the pain stim, and then give you a few minutes for it to kick in. Are you ready?”
Trench nods, taking in a deep breath and holding it–maybe he’s been through this before.
Kix doesn’t give him a count down, just jams the needle into Trench’s neck and winces in sympathy as he gasps. “There we go. Give it a couple minutes, you won’t feel a-”
“I’m really fine, sir, I promise. I don’t need to see the medics.” Kix looks up immediately, putting his tray and tweezers down on the bed near Trench’s legs. They all have the same voice; but he knows that one. He would know it from a hundred klicks away.
“Considering you can’t stand up by yourself, I’m going to disagree with you,” a tired voice responds, instantly recognizable as Rex’s. “You were blown out of the sky, Jess. Let the medics take a look at you.”
“Was not,” Jesse argues, hobbling into view with his arm around Rex’s shoulder, who is half carrying Jesse into the med tent. “I happened to be in a gun ship which crashed due to enemy missiles. I’m perfectly fine.”
Rex rolls his eyes and makes eye contact with Kix. “How’s it going in here, Kix?”
Kix pats Trench’s good shoulder gently, and walks over to the pair. “Well, all things considered. Almost everyone has been patched up, and most everyone who came in has already been sent back to camp. How’s clean up going, sir?” Kix steps forward and throws Jesse’s other arm over his shoulder, and puts a hand on Jesse’s chest to help him balance.
Rex adjusts his hold so he’s supporting Jesse’s back, and Jesse’s arm slides down Rex’s back until it’s resting at his side. “Mostly well. Not very many injured clones this battle, mostly just…”
Kix works his jaw, dipping his head in respect for his lost brothers. It explains why his job has been unusually calm today. The group Kix was with during the fighting was with the General and Captain Rex; naturally, less soldiers get hurt when with them. Kix himself didn’t see much more of the fighting.
“I’m really fine,” Jesse says again, once the silence has gone on just a second too long to be comfortable. “I promise. I can help with the clean up, sir.”
“Your orders are to let Kix look you over and treat any injuries you have. You can help once the CMO has cleared you for action. Am I understood, Lieutenant?”
“Sir, yes sir!” Jesse says, straightening up out of habit and wincing in pain after he has. He sinks forward into Kix’s hold, jaw clenched tightly. Kix fights back a sigh; perfectly fine. Sure.
Rex steps back, keeping his arms out just in case, as he lets Jesse get used to Kix’s support. “Good. Kix, let me know if you need any additional support.”
“Yes sir,” Kix agrees, and starts to lead Jesse back to an empty bed. “Coric, can you handle Trench when you’re done with Four-Six?”
“Yes sir, I’m almost done here. You take care of Lieutenant Jesse.” Coric doesn’t look up from his stitchwork, too focused. He isn’t one to joke around or tease while on duty; that’s saved for the barracks.
“Great,” Kix says, turning to Trench. “Is that pain stim starting to kick in yet?”
Trench slowly turns his head to Kix, as if he’s two seconds behind real time. “Oh, yeah,” Trench drawls, smacking his lips. “Take-take your time. I feel…great.”
Kix snorts and nods at him and Rung, before leading Jesse all the way to the back. There’s a curtain here Kix can draw; they’ll be in relative privacy. “You got blown out of the sky?” Kix asks softly, not wanting to be overheard.
Jesse grunts, turning his head to force a smirk in Kix’s direction. “Nah, I just happened to be in a gun ship-”
“Which was blown out of the sky,” Kix cuts him off, helping Jesse turn and sit on the cot. “Where all does it hurt? I need to know how to lay you down.”
“You know I like it on my back, baby,” Jesse says, eyes alight with mischief. Kix narrows his eyes, unamused. “Everywhere, it hurts everywhere. I do think I’m good to lay on my back, though. I think I just bruised up my left side.”
Kix hums and starts to gently manuever Jesse onto his back on the cot, ignoring his pained pants and gasps for now. “Okay. Let’s get your armor off, and I’ll look you over.”
Jesse sucks in another shaky breath, but tries to smile at Kix through his grimace. “Bet you-you would want me out of my armor-”
“Save your breath,” Kix says, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to check you for a concussion first. Look straight ahead for me?” He pulls out his flashlight and lines it up with Jesse’s eyes.
“I’d rather look at you, darling,” Jesse murmurs, but he does as he’s told and stares at the opposite wall of the tent.
“You’re so annoying,” Kix complains, but shines his light and moves it around to check. His pupils look fine, dilating normally. No concussion, at least. “Do you remember hitting your head at all?”
“I think I hit my head when I fell for you, Kixy,” Jesse says, lulling his head to the side. “But I don’tremember hitting it in the crash.”
“I am trying to triage you,” Kix says, exasperated, and leans away from Jesse. “Can you take this seriously?”
“You always worry too much,” Jesse informs him, one side of his mouth quirking up into a cheeky smile. “I’m really fine, I just got bruised up. I was really lucky.”
“I worry because you’re stupid,” Kix says bluntly, starting to gently pull Jesse’s armor off. “And you avoid medical at all costs. You could be actively dying and you would find a way to avoid letting me take care of you.”
“I take offense to that,” Jesse mumbles, trying his best to help Kix. Kix moves down to get the lower half of Jesse’s armor off and allows him to get the upper half himself. “I like you taking care of me. Especially in the bedroom. I just don’t like medical.”
Kix gives him an unimpressed look, finishing up the lower armor and moving to help with Jesse’s chest and back plate. “I am working, Jesse. Behave.”
“If I’m good, will you give me a treat?” Jesse asks, immediately disobeying. “You know how much I love su-”
“Doesn’t matter, since you’re apparently set on being inappropriate,” Kix hisses, gently smacking Jesse on the forehead. At Jesse’s affronted look, Kix smirks and starts to peel Jesse’s uppers off. “Lean forward for me, you can hold onto my shoulders if it helps.”
Jesse carefully gets himself into an almost sitting position by grabbing onto kix’s shoulder, and while he’s obviously in pain he’s still smirking at Kix. “I think I know how to ride you by now, Kix.”
Kix barks a surprised laughed, finally getting Jesse’s shirt off and helping him lay back down. “Shut up,” he hisses, but his own amused smile gives him away. “You’re impossible. Let me look at you.”
Jesse grins, rolling a bit on his good side so Kix can see part of his back as well. “See? I’m fine. Just lots of bruising, I bet.”
Kix runs his fingers gently over Jesse’s side, frowning at the coloration. “You’re bruised to hell and back,” Kix mutters, narrowing his eyes when his fingers catch. He goes back to that spot and presses gently, causing Jesse to release a whimper through gritted teeth. “And you broke a couple ribs.”
“Kix,” Jesse whispers, sucking in a gasp and wincing as he does. “Ow.”
Kix sighs sadly, moving his hands up and looking over Jesse’s arm. “You bruised your elbow pretty bad, too.” He gently moves Jesse’s arm, bending it, and frowns when the other man lets out another pained gasp. “Sprained. I’m going to wrap it up, but bacta won’t do much for this.”
Jesse hums in acknowledgement, watching Kix’s fingers as they gently explore his injuries. “What about on my back?” he asks softly.
Kix lets his eyes flit to Jesse’s, and gives him a soft smile. “Roll over a bit more for me. Are you sure you didn’t hurt your other side? You aren’t putting pressure on any injuries?”
Jesse shakes his head and rolls over so almost his entire front is on the cot. “No, my right side feels fine.”
Kix runs his fingers over Jesse’s back, pressing on some parts and ensuring the bruising isn’t too bad. He doesn’t want to miss any signs of internal bleeding. “You banged yourself up pretty good, Jesse,” Kix confirms, sighing sadly.
“My hip hurts, too,” Jesse says, looking over his shoulder at Kix. “You might have to roll down my lowers.”
A part of Kix wants to narrow his eyes and call banthashit, but the medic in Kix doesn’t want to waste any time. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls Jesse’s lower blacks down and examines the area. “Did you land on it during the crash at all?”
“Kind of. I mostly just landed on my left side, which is why it’s all bruised.” Jesse shifts a bit, wincing as his arm brushes over his ribs.
Kix runs his fingers over the bruises, sighing again. “I don’t think you have any cuts or internal bleeding. I think you just need a pain stim and rest. The ribs are going to be your biggest problem, but you’re going to be sore all over for at least a week.”
“Move your fingers a little and you could leave me a more satisfying kind of sore,” Jesse whispers, smiling and reaching down to brush their fingers together.
Kix sighs heavily, pulling Jesse’s lowers back up and glaring at him. “Seriously, Jesse?”
Jesse only chuckles breathily, rolling over onto his back and wiggling to try and relieve as much discomfort as he can. “Worth a shot.”
Kix rolls his eyes and walks over to his desk, grabbing another pain stim. He jams it into Jesse’s neck without warning, earning a squawk of indignation for his efforts. “Let that kick in, I’m going to check on my more well behaved patients.”
Jesse pouts, his right arm wrapping around his body to rest lightly over his broken ribs. “But I’ll miss you,” he whines.
Kix shakes his head, but he can’t stop the small smile from forming on his lips. “You’ll live, I’ll only be gone a few minutes. Call if you need anything-but remember Coric is here, and he might check on you instead.”
Jesse tries to give a put on sigh, but winces at the pressure on his ribs. “I guess I won’t expose myself, then.” he grunts, rolling his eyes.
Kix doesn’t dignify the sarcasm with a response, just leaves and checks on the other vode who need his attention. Most of the troopers have fallen asleep, aided by pure physical exhaustion and the pain stims. He makes his way towards the entrance, and sees Coric is carefully pulling the shrapnel from Trench. “How’s it going here, Coric?”
“Good,” his fellow medic says without looking up. “Four-Six is all patched up, and I’m letting the bacta do its job. How’s the lieutenant?”
“Bruised very badly, broke some ribs and sprained his elbow. Nothing to be done except to administer pain stims.” Kix looks over at Four-Six, smiling at the way he’s fallen asleep with his mouth hanging open. “Lucky, all things considered.”
“I asked the captain, and no one else in the gunship made it out.” Coric does look up at that, dropping a piece of metal into the tray.
Kix feels his heart start to beat harder and faster, at just the idea of Jesse having died today. If the ship had exploded on impact with the ground, as they often do; or if he had been sucked out of the ship and fallen to the ground himself; if no one had searched the ship for survivors-
“Breathe, sir,” Coric says softly. “You just checked him over. He’s fine.”
Kix swallows thickly and realizes he’s holding his breath. He slowly pushes the air out through his nose, nodding once to Coric. “This was a-a hard won battle. Too many casualties.”
Coric nods in agreement. “I can handle things from here. Go get some rest, I’ll wake you up for your shift.”
Kix takes one last sweeping look around the tent, and nods at Coric again. “Thanks, vod,” he mumbles, before heading back to the curtained off section of the tent.
Jesse sluggishly looks up at Kix, and a dopey grin spreads out across his face. “Heeeeey baby,” he greets, just a bit too loud, considering where they are.
Kix lets out a soft laugh, closing the curtain and sitting beside the cot. “Shush, you’re being too loud.”
“Let’em hear me,” Jesse argues, reaching down and grabbing for Kix’s hand. Kix takes mercy and curls their fingers together. “They’ll just know how…how…yeah.”
Kix laughs and brings Jesse’s hand to his lips to kiss. “They’re trying to sleep, love. They need to rest too.”
“I don’t need rest. I just need you,” Jesse says, his eyes warm and full of affection. “You’re perfect.”
Kix ducks his chin and smiles, leaning on the cot. “You’re only saying that because of the pain stim.”
“Nuh uh,” Jesse argues, squeezing Kix’s hand. “I’m only saying it because-because it’s true and it should be said. You should know it.” He smiles again, using his other hand to run his fingers over Kix’s hair as far as he can reach. “You’re so pretty, Kix. You have cool hair.”
Kix snorts, scooting closer so Jesse doesn’t put any pressure on his broken ribs. “Are you feeling better?”
“Mhm,” Jesse confirms, his eyes roving over Kix’s face with such intensity it almost brings a flush to his cheeks. “You fixed me.”
Kix shakes his head fondly, resting his head on Jesse’s chest on his good side. He plays with Jesse’s fingers, keeping his hand in both of his. “Good, I’m glad you aren’t hurting as much.”
Jesse runs the fingers of his right hand gently over Kix’s hair, smiling down at him. “Oh, gods, Kix.” Kix frowns, ready to get up and force him to lay still and rest if he’s in pain. But then Jesse laughs and runs his fingers down the side of Kix’s face. “I am so very in love with you. It’s like my heart is gonna burst out of my chest just to get to you.”
Kix laughs at that, sneakily pressing two fingers to the pulse in Jesse’s wrist just to make sure his heart rate is actually normal. “Jesse…”
“I love you so much, Kix,” he whispers, his eyes starting to droop. “You’re so perfect, and you make me so happy, and all I ever wanna do is be with you. I love you.”
Kix is definitely blushing now. He leans forward and connects their lips softly, just to make him stop talking. Jesse obviously finds it hard to kiss back, but Kix doesn’t really mind. He moves their lips together, and adjusts for Jesse’s clumsy attempts to reciprocate. Jesse’s fingers curl over Kix’s hair, and he squeezes Kix’s fingers with his other hand.
Kix smiles and pulls back, rubbing their noses together gently before pulling back further. “I love you too, Jess. More than anything.”
Jesse beams at him, like Kix personally hung all the stars in the sky, and sighs happily. “Kix.”
“Go to sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.” With a new pain stim, he doesn’t add.
“Don’t let go of me,” he mumbles as his eyes fully slip closed. “Hold my hand.”
“I will,” Kix promises, kissing Jesse’s jaw before resting his head back on Jesse’s chest.
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