Sweet Embrace of Death
Fandom: The Bad Batch
Pairing: Crosshair x Jedi! OC
Words: 1946
Author's Note: So, I'm back again! It has been a hot minute since I posted anything on this account, but I recently decided that I wanted to return to my writing, or at least share some of the stuff I have saved. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
P.S. - I'm quite open to any constructive criticism you may have as I'm always looking to improve! Thanks! :)
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For a soldier, death is both a business and an occupational hazard. To that effect, every soldier has, at some point, thought about how they may one day perish. Enemy fire, field infections, missions gone awry - the possibilities were truly endless when your job included launching yourself into an imploding building.
Crosshair would have been lying if he said that death wasn't something he thought about. He acted like he didn't, but he most certainly did. His leading theory included some sort of blaze of glory, maybe taking out an entire platoon of battle droids with him - hell, maybe even the entirety of Separatist command. Either that, or just getting old and sloppy.
What he didn't think would kill him would be a humble cream pastry, and not even one he was eating.
His end came on a fairly regular day, after a fairly regular mission. It was simple, as it always was for him, and he didn't bore himself with the tedious details. He had a job - pick off enemies from the perimeter - and he did it damn well. Another day at the office. After securing whatever it was they came to retrieve with minimal casualties (for them), Crosshair made his way towards the ship, already preparing his trusty rifle for a meticulous cleaning, when he noticed that only Hunter and Tech were walking in the same direction, whilst the other half of the team were nowhere to be found.
"Where's Wrecker and Ursa?" he asked, noting the silence that usually came with their absence.
"Getting supplies," Hunter replied, turning to face him, "There's a small town about 15 minutes from here, so I sent them to get essentials."
"I don't know if those two understand the meaning of 'essentials'," Tech chimed in, looking up from his data pad. "They always come back with some thing random or useless, and statistically always forget at least one item."
Crosshair only grunted in response, placing a toothpick between his teeth and making his way up the ramp. Hunter and Tech shared a knowing look before following him. They were aware that Crosshair felt… some sort of emotion towards their Jedi tag along. What emotion this was, they had no idea, but they knew he felt it very strongly.
Truth be told, even Crosshair wasn't quite able to name his feelings towards Ursa. Her presence always made him feel something very intense. Anger, maybe. Or fear. No, Crosshair wasn't afraid. That was the last thing he felt near her. The only thing he knew was that being around her, watching her blow her hair out of her face or delicately move his rifle, sent him into an emotional state he only recognised from within a trench. Maker, he hated it.
And with that, Crosshair perched himself in his usual corner, ready to scrub that rifle clean until he also scrubbed away the odd pang in his chest.
An hour passed before Wrecker and Ursa returned to the Marauder, though you could hear them coming from a mile away. Wrecker carried two crates, both balanced perfectly on his broad shoulders, whilst Ursa's arms were laden with several bags filled to the brim with evidence of their hunt. The pair chatted and laughed as they crossed the makeshift landing pad and entered the craft.
"Delivery!" Ursa called out, setting the bags carefully onto the floor beside the entrance. Wrecker let out a raucous laugh as he crossed the room and easily lowered the two crates beside Crosshair's current spot, earning a sidewards glare from the clone whose hand slipped due to the sudden movement. Wrecker gave him a sheepish look as ways of an apology, before retreating.
The interruption made Crosshair look up from his scrupulous task, just in time to see Ursa bending over to show Hunter and Tech their findings. That familiar trench-like feeling returned to his chest as he eyed the way her floor length skirt lifted slightly in the back, revealing the tiniest sliver of skin, which reflected the harsh lighting of the Marauder but made it look like the light of a supernova. He quickly snapped out of his trance as she stood up straight again, veiling the stars.
"And we have a surprise!" Ursa sang, her hands clearly fidgeting with something behind her back.
"Is it by chance the micro connectors I asked you to pick up?" Tech asked, though he already knew the answer.
Ursa and Wrecker shared a long glance, realising that they did not in fact pick up those micro connectors.
"It's something better," Ursa quickly quipped, now needing to salvage what was a really good idea at the time. From behind her, she whipped out a paper bag and opened it. Tech and Hunter cautiously looked inside. Contained within were 5 pastries, covered in icing sugar and brimming with some sort of sweet cream.
"Surprise!" Wrecker and Ursa shouted weakly, as they were met with one amused and one exasperated look.
"Brilliant," Tech said sarcastically, "I'll just fix the navigational computer with whipped cream and cake."
Despite Tech's annoyance, he was more than amenable to indulging in the inconvenient pastries. Wrecker, Hunter, Tech and Ursa all sat in the cockpit chairs, enjoying their hard earned treat. Crosshair, however, refused to partake and stayed put in his corner, continuing to mindlessly clean his already spotless rifle. His mind, however, was somewhere else entirely as he kept his eyes firmly trained on the woman as she ate and laughed at something one of his brothers said.
And oh boy, was he in turmoil. His keen eyes followed the movement of the pastry with military precision. He noted her plump lips opening, ready to receive the snack, the gentle yet large bite she took, the cream acting with a mind of its own and landing around her mouth as well as inside.
He was nearly shaking as he watched her pink tongue slowly dash out to lick up a rogue spot from around her lips, moving in a gentle semi circle before disappearing again. Her tongue was quickly joined by her thumb as she placed it between her lips and sucked more cream of it. Crosshair thought he was going to pass away there and then. The feeling in his chest started to return, that warmth filling his entire being, though he prayed it did not reach any visible part.
His prayers were answered, as instead it travelled south and settled between his thighs. The sudden uncomfortable feeling forced Crosshair to sit up and readjust himself, which made Ursa shoot a glance in his direction. She offered him a small smile, splodges of cream still visible on her face. Crosshair quickly looked away and acted disinterested, a personality quirk Ursa was used to as she returned to her conversation about what exactly a micro connector was. The silver-haired clone's gaze, however, quickly bounced to Ursa again after making sure she wasn't looking, and after strategically using his rifle to cover his crotch.
He had just gotten comfortable again when it happened: his demise in slow motion. He watched, captivated, as a large splatter of cream escaped from its crumbly cage and theatrically fell directly onto Ursa's exposed chest, before slowly making its way down towards the low cut of her shirt and disappearing into a place Crosshair would have loved to follow.
Ursa made a displeased sound as she put down the culprit bun and went to rectify the situation. Crosshair was gripping his weapon as he watched her middle finger dip under her shirt and reemerge as she wiped up the stray cream. Her finger glided up towards her neck, tortuously slow, following the wake of the cream as she ensured she got all of it, before popping it into her mouth once more and licking it clean.
That's it. He was dead. Unable to handle the scene any longer, Crosshair stood up so quickly that the box he was sat on stumbled backwards, the toothpick between his teeth snapping in half from the force of his jaw clenching. Everyone turned to look at him quizzically, unaware of the reason for this sudden outburst.
"Is everything alright, Cross?" Ursa asked innocently, genuine concern in her eyes. Crosshair would have been touched by this, maybe even stay, but he was far too focused on the still moist finger that just came out of her mouth and the remnants of cream creating a trail down her cleavage. The nickname did not help matters.
"Yes," he snarled, the words coming out a lot harsher than intended. "Just gotta go to the fresher," he added in a mumbled tone before turning around and basically jogging out of the room, yearning for the isolation of the refresher. The rest of the team shared confused glances.
"Wonder what that was about," Ursa said softly, looking at the now empty spot, noting that in his rush, Crosshair forgot his rifle, which never happened.
Hunter gave a small sigh, "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I would give my right arm to understand what goes on in that head sometimes."
Crosshair sat in that small refresher for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than 5 minutes. The cool walls and harsh light were exactly what he needed to get himself under control, though he knew he couldn't stay there forever. The only question now was how he was going to leave without being asked questions or, worse, bumping into Ursa. He was eyeing the flimsy screws of the ceiling vent when he heard a gentle knock on the door.
"Cross?" Ursa's muffled voice came through, interrupting his scheming. "Are you alright?"
Of course it had to be her. "Yes," he spat out, cringing at his thorny tone. It was all he could manage without saying something he might regret. What else was he meant to say? No, I'm not alright because I can't stop thinking about how much I wish I was the dollop of cream diving beneath your shirt.
"Oh, ok," she replied, the dejection clear in her voice. "I'll… leave you to it then."
Crosshair listened to her footsteps getting further away from the door. He leaned against the cool metal and sighed as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, scrutinising the man standing before him. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he just tell this woman how he feels about her? Or at least be nice to her? He could use the excuse of the whole 'Jedi can't have partners' aspect of the situation, but small caveats like that rarely stopped him. The truth was that he afraid. Of rejection. Of vulnerability. Of acknowledging that he too has human feelings. At this rate, the Jedi thing was actually blessing.
When he was certain that there was no one loitering around to catch him in this state, he slowly opened the door and found a completely empty ship. He was about to step out when he noticed something on the floor out of the corner of his eye. He looked down to find his rifle case, open, with his rifle neatly disassembled inside. He knelt down to give it a thorough inspection when he noticed a container hidden behind the open lid. He picked it up and opened it cautiously. Inside, was the last remaining cream pastry, still perfectly intact, with a note on top.
'For later' was written in neat, careful handwriting that could have only belonged to one person.
The warmth in his chest returned, though it was subtler and more pleasing than before. If what he experienced before was an adrenaline filled warrior's death, this was dying in your sleep - peaceful, calm and welcoming.
Crosshair accepted this end.