summary: Ignoring her bed rest, (Y/n) escapes the med bay with the help of Sinker and Boost. Commander Wolffe encounters them. Will he help? Or will he tell Plo‘buir?
pairings: 104th x Reader, Sinker, Boost, Wolffe, Comet
warnings: the softest fluff
words: 901
a/n: manifesting my wolfpack boys in tomorrows episode :) also this is part of my 1k celebration
MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES
“Sinker! Boost! What are you doing?“
Heavy steps echo through the corridor. Wolffe watches his brothers round a corner and starts to run. There was someone in their arms and the Commander is quite sure who this someone is - their Padawan (Y/n).
Soft giggles reach his ears as he rounds the corner as well and almost runs into Sinker. His brothers look at him with wide guilty eyes.
“Hello there Wolffe“, (Y/n) greets the Commander with a silly smile and waves her hand. Her hand only stops moving when Sinker grabs it. Boost tightens his grip around (Y/n)s weak body, cradling her against his chest.
“Why is she here? She is injured!“, Wolffe asks protectively and takes a step forward to take (Y/n) from his brothers arms. She frowns at him and grasps Boosts top blacks.
“She hates the med bay! They gave her a good amount of painkillers which made her uncomfortable“, the Sergeant of the Wolfpack tries to explain but Wolffe shakes his head no. There is no way they can carry her around the ship while she has a broken leg as well as a blaster wound. She needs to stay in bed.
“I will take her back“, Wolffe announces and moves one of his arms under (Y/n)s legs while the other wraps around her upper body. With a sad glance towards the Padawan, Boost lets go of her. (Y/n) squirms in Wolffes arms but to no avail. The painkillers as well as blood loss made her dizzy.
Silent steps come closer and as Sergeant Sinker looks around the corner, he discovers their General. After turning back around he stops Wolffe with a hand against his firm chest. (Y/n) begs in his arms to stay with the clones. She wants so desperately to sleep in their barracks. Because that is where she feels most at home.
“Plo‘buir is coming!“, Sinker tells the group. (Y/n)s heart sinks because she knows her Master will bring her straight back to med bay. So she looks up at Wolffe with huge pleading eyes. The Commander sighs and nods.
“You distract him. I will get her inside our barracks“, Wolffe commands and his words make (Y/n)s eyes shine. While Sinker and Boost head towards the General with some stupid excuse, he walks the other way.
“I knew you had a soft spot for me“, (Y/n) states after some silence with a sweet giggle. Wolffe looks at her for a second but then focuses on not being seen by too many people. Still there is a smile on his lips.
“No. I simply want you where I can watch over you. Getting you back to the med bay would never stop you from trying to escape“, Wolffe explains as he rounds the last corner and walks straight towards the entrance of the Wolfpacks barracks.
“What you are trying to say is: You are soft for me“, (Y/n) teases and pokes the Commanders chest. She watches him roll his eyes like he always does. But she knows its not a mean gesture.
“C-Commander“, Comet greets the two of them. Sinker and Boost gave him the mission to guard the barracks and cover them. He is surprised to see (Y/n) in the arms of Wolffe, the one they thought would be a big problem.
Inside the barracks the clones of the 104th are already dragging their mattresses from their cots to a huge comfortable pile in the middle of the room. Some shinnies welcome (Y/n) with a pat on her shoulder or simply a smile.
Wolffe places (Y/n) in the middle of the combined mattresses, checking her for any sign of pain or discomfort, but she smiles at him sweetly. Comet drapes a blanket around her shoulders and then sits down next to her. All the other clones lay down around them like some human barrier. (Y/n) feels safe.
Sinker and Boost come through the door with laughter and join their brothers the same time as their Commander returns. Wolffe has taken off his armor. The second he lays on his back, (Y/n) rests her head on his chest. One of her hands is entwined with Comets.
“The real reason why I wanted to be here is that I wanted to know if everyone is aright“, (Y/n) whispers after some time and feels Wolffe shift underneath her.
“It‘s okay, ad‘ika. We are all safe now“, Wolffe breathes and wraps an arm around (Y/n). He caresses her back with his rough fingers, trying to calm her to sleep. It works. After some time the Padawan is sighing in her sleep and clutches Wolffes top blacks in her small hand.
It‘s silent for a while and most clones are already sleeping. Then Sinker and Boost start bickering about their next mission where the clones get to carry jetpacks. Both are too excited to sleep.
“Sinker. Boost. Shut up!“, Wolffe whisper-screams and kicks Boost in the neck to silence him. While Sinker laughs, Boost groans pained. Soon even the two fall asleep.
The next morning (Y/n) is the first one to wake up because she feels a close presence in the force. She looks around and meets the gaze of her Master. But he is smiling under his mask and leaves as soon as (Y/n) sees him. At least his Padawan is keeping her bed rest with the clones at her side.
Author’s Note: Here is a continuation that you’ve asked for! If you’d like for another part, let me know! I’ll make a taglist if you’re interested as well! Just Ask Me or send a message!
“Commander Wolffe, I expect your leave treated you well?” General Plo’s rumbling voice greeted him with a familiarity that had him reeling back to the war room meeting he was supposed to be listening to.
“Yes, sir.” Wolffe responded with a concealed grimace, watching the other Generals in the room slowly turn their gazes away from himself, and back to the holomap. Wasn’t it bad enough that the General knew he wasn’t paying attention? Let alone bringing it to the attention of the entire room.
“What do you think of General Kenobi’s plan?” Plo asked, pointing to the simulated geographic landscape on the holo.
“This is General Skywalker’s, sir...”
It was a test…
One of many to come, after just being release by the medical staff of Kamino. Luckily, he’d passed it. Even the look on General Skywalker’s face looked positively proud that Wolffe had been present enough to notice what strategy was being presented. It wasn’t unlike Plo to give him a small jeer here and there, trying to lighten the mood. Which was probably what he was really trying to do at the moment. However Wolffe couldn’t take it that way. Not with a dull ache in his eye-socket, and half a mind somewhere off-base.
“He is ignoring the western front. Intel supports at least two separatist battalions stationed just in that tree line.” Wolffe motioned towards the natural defense. “Sending men straight down would practically funnel my troops into a trap.” He continued, finding his voice after seeing General Kenobi’s subtle nod. “Without reinforcements covering the left side, it’s practically impossible.”
The three Generals nodded in agreement, somehow unaware of the blindside attack. Quite possibly the leave had cleared his mind. Without the constant blue glare of holo displays, Wolffe found himself seeing much of his daily tasks with a simpler view that had been benefitting him to an acknowledgeable degree. Even General Plo’s joke had some basis in truthful questioning.
“Very well. I’ll be in touch, Master Plo.” Kenobi gave a gentle nod, motioning for Anakin for follow as they made their way out the door.
The Commander and his General stood in silence, standing over the holomap for long minutes, seemingly re-thinking and re-calculating their future movements days before they would drop into the warzone. Doing everything he could to limit his brother’s risk. Only his grasp for real-life control was severely lacking. No matter how long he stared at this kriffing map.
“You’re troubled Wolffe…” Plo commented, folding his hands inside the deep sleeves of his robes.
“No sir.”
“Ad, you mustn’t strain yourself. Worthiness does not come from the body, as it does from the soul.”
Always a man with the right words.
“I went on leave, buir… Where some of the others have.” Wolffe admitted tensely, unwilling to meet his General’s gaze despite still wearing his bucket. “I’ve been thinking about going back.”
General Plo simply chuckled in response. His hands reappeared from the depths of his sleeves where they rested against the controls of the holomap, adjusting the brightness of the lights until they weren’t as biting against Wolffe’s eye. The Jedi was well-aware of how painful the cybernetic was without Wolffe ever telling him a thing. The Commander might be silent, but that had nothing to do with how loudly his force signature screamed. Even Kenobi and Anakin had winced when they entered the war room, suddenly hearing the silent screams of Wolffe’s pain. But only Plo had noticed enough to act. Wolffe just wasn’t aware of how loudly he projected his emotions to those who could hear them.
“I imagine you found something worth returning for.” Plo murmured back, glancing to see his Ad rubbing the back of his neck in quiet anticipation of his admonition. “What’s keeping you from doing so?” He asked, already fully aware of what had his Commander struggling through a simple meeting.
“Duty, General.”
It was the truth. Both men knew it.
***
The girl poured a fresh cup of caf, smiling at the buzzed, blonde sitting sleepily across the bar from her. Rex had made a surprise visit, more than a week ahead of schedule with more than enough stories to keep her busy and listening for a full weekend. It was one of her favorite things, to sit and sip caf while hearing about the -less gruesome- details of her trooper’s missions.
“-It was hell back there, but at least Anakin didn’t need reinforcements like last time.” Rex shook his head in slight frustration.
A this point she knew about all of the Generals, and almost knew all the clones by name. Of course many had come to see her, but putting names to faces wasn’t always easy. She found that putting names to tattoos and personalities was easiest.
As long as they show their personality.
“I’m glad you survived the Generals antics. Otherwise I wouldn’t get my updates so willingly.” She couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of asking Cody to talk about things so willingly. Of course Fives would be willing, but the quality of information was a whole other battle to fight.
“I’ll always come back, as long as you’ve got hot caf on drip.” Rex chuckled, taking a hearty drink from his mug. “I heard through the barracks that you played host to a new guest?”
She smiled almost absentmindedly, looking towards the rocking chair that had sat absent since Commander Wolffe’s overnight stay two weeks ago. “Yes, I did.”
“Angry bastard, isn’t he?” He commented with a light jeer, readjusting himself on the barstool he sat on.
I need to get bigger ones… they’re all too small for the boys.
“I don’t know what to think of him just yet.” She mused, tracing her finger around the lips of her mug, letting the steam coat her fingertips in a dewy sheen. “We didn’t particularly meet.” The look on Rex’s face changed with the drop of a hat, causing her to almost stutter in the attempt to rephrase herself. Whatever he’d heard, apparently didn’t meet up with her divulged information.
“I- I mean we didn’t speak.” She tried her best not to let her anxiety show, but that dreadful stutter had reared its ugly head. “I us-used signs to help him through the house.”
“You wrote out signs?” Rex parroted her with an incredulous expression, seemingly trying to piece together an image of what her nights must’ve looked like hiding from Wolffe and creeping down hallways without him catching sight of her. “Let me see them.”
She nodded timidly, still trying to gain back her confidence after realizing that Rex wasn’t actually mad. In one of the least-squeaky cabinets under the sink, she retrieved one of the black signs, and the chalk that she used to write the signs. Sliding them across the island, her gaze focused on Rex’s softening expression. Her remaining anxiety was slowly dissipating.
“You’re a special kind of patient, you know that?” Rex ran his finger over the white chalk, looking up at her under thick, dark eyelashes.
“He just seemed like the type who would want a different kind of love.” She shrugged her shoulders, feeling her face heat with embarrassment. It was easy to watch from behind the corners of her house, and enjoy to unguarded expressions of her warriors. But hearing any praise directly to her face was almost pure torture.
“All I’ve heard is when the Commander stepped back on base he looked like a brand new man. Even Cody was talking about how Wolffe’s armor looked better than the day he got it re-painted.” Rex paused to take another slug of his caf. “I haven’t seen the Commander… but I’m sure you gave him a kriffing good polish didn’t you?” He chuckled again, taking another hard look at the sign sitting in front of him. “I imagine the poor sap was standing up straighter than a rod with all the attention he got from you.”
“His were particularly rough… but nothing a little elbow grease couldn’t fix.” She retrieved the signs and put it back it it’s place under the sink. “I did use a little epoxy to fill In some particularly deep scratches.”
Rex gave her a wide smile and motioned for her to come over with an arm stretched out. She obliged, and placed herself within arm’s reach so he could pull her into a tight hug. He settled his chin on top of her head, giving a few quick squeezes just to explain all the things she knew Rex couldn’t say. For all the things the Captain could say, the girl knew that many of her boys were unable to speak through many of the things they felt. Instead, they liked touch.
At first, she’d been quite unwilling to oblige them. Feeling much too insignificant to be anyone that deserved any real attention from such important men. But after almost two years, hugs and the occasional request for head scratches or a haircut had become almost essential to her services. Even Rex hadn’t been keen on physical attention towards anyone but his brothers, however that changed after a few terrible nights spent way too late at 79’s. A particularly bloody battle left him beaten and bruised in more ways than one. And instead of coming straight to her, he’d found the door to 79’s and the bottom of a bottle of fire whiskey first. Two days of close attention and a true moment of vulnerability later, Rex became more than a regular. He practically cornered his own room at her house, where she was almost always on call for late-night or early-morning planet-side landings.
“You want him to come back don’t you?” Rex’s voice sounded muffled in her hair.
“I don’t want anything. You know that Rex.” He hugged her tighter with both arms this time, letting out a rough sigh.
“You’re more than deserving of whatever your little heart desires. Maker knows that… and if they don’t, well. I’d be more than happy to let them know.” They both chuckled, and split apart to take another drink of caf.
Only now that question still hung in the air. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the Commander to come back. But honestly, she couldn’t seem to distinguish what exactly she wanted to give him. Or whether or not Rex was talking about the Commander when he’d been oh-so willing to remind them of her own importance. Either option was enough to make her stomach knot. The girl always wanted to give, but had -according to Rex- a bad habit of never taking anything in return. But doing what she did for the troopers, allowed her the opportunity to do just that. The men hardly had anything to give, except a heartfelt thanks upon leaving. And she didn’t have to do anything but help. No transaction if the troopers didn’t desire it, and even then it was always guided by the understanding that they didn’t owe her anything.
“I want to be good.” She smiled, sounding like a broken record to Rex.
“I don’t know how I can make it any more obvious.” He sighed. “I’ve told you hundreds of times that you’re the Guardian Angel of me, and my vod.”
The girl felt another rise of heat in her face.
“Wolffe will come back. I’m sure of it.” Rex continued, “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll never want to leave this place.”
***
“We’re dropping in ten seconds!” Sinker’s loud voice boomed in Wolffe’s headset. Echoing like a pin dropping in the silent halls of the Jedi Temple.
Ten…
Nine…
Eight…
Wolffe checked his blasters one last time and tightened the straps holding his chute to his back. The plan was to drop, shoot, and stay standing alive until General Skywalker’s boys came to guard their back for the push forward. It was the only way they were going to get out alive.
Three…
Two..
One.
“So help me…” Wolffe murmured as the floor below him suddenly fell away, dropping him into a freefall where blaster fire was already choking out the blue sky. Already they were in a losing fight. But now the entire Wolfpack was floating thought the air… Defenseless. In a quick change of direction Wolffe cut his primary, screaming orders for his men to do the same. On both sides of his peripheral he could see all members of his pack with their tell-tale markings covering their pauldrons.
***
Three months passed without any sign of Commander Wolffe. The girl received most of her information from Rex, who had begun trying to keep the habit of drinking at least one cup of caf with her when he got the chance. That didn’t mean her influx of regulars and newcomers altered at all. Every other month the GAR launched multiple attacks at once. This always influenced her boys, and how many of them could stay. She was quite certain that two months ago she held house for Rex’s entire battalion for a weekend. Needless to say she stayed tucked away in her part of the house unless there was a need for her.
But now, Rex was deployed with Commander Wolffe and from all the news reports and scattered information she got -from overheard commlinks- in the middle of the night, there was a good chance that many of her boys wouldn’t be coming home. Often the girl found herself grieving over the losses of troopers. Some that had come to her frequently, and others whom hadn’t quite found their way to her kitchen yet. Many troopers held a place in her heart that warranted pure sadness upon news of their death, but it was hardly an attainable practice.
Even Rex had warned her not to get this close. “After all, we’re meant to be disposable.” He’d said with a half-hearted smile that day. She couldn’t accept that as an answer. But it wasn’t possible to grant every man that waltzed through her doors a full funeral, and proper burial. Finding the middle ground had become a struggle in more ways than one since leaving that key out on the porchlight. No matter what it took, she knew that what she was giving was worth more than anything she could ever want in return.
She sat in her private living room, nursing a slight headache from the constant clenching of her jaw. If it wasn’t for the half-hour news updates she might not have been gritting her jaw so tight. Every half hour presented war updates. At least, the information that the GAR was willing to publish. The girl almost always was a day ahead on battlefront news, not just the politics of it all. Her fingers worked absentmindedly at a new blanket, looping the finger-wide fibers back onto themselves. By the end of the night she would have two finished, and a third halfway there. The one on her lap would be sent home with the next trooper. It was one of the easiest ways to help soften the blow of having to go home. If they could take a piece of home with them, there wasn’t half as sad of goodbyes when they left. Last she remembered, Cody kept his in the barracks where it gathered a lot of attention from his vod. She couldn’t help but giggle when Cody came to her, completely flustered, with no idea how to explain where he got it from.
She’d simply told him to offer them her services. That small gesture gained her an entire battalions of soldiers, happily carrying home their own hand knitted blankets with full stomach and brightly polished armor. What she never said was that after that weekend a message was sent to her personal datapad. It had been eloquently written, with enough thanks to make her ears burn in embarrassment. Along with a request to keep looking after Commander Cody and his men. The message was signed with simple initials;
O.W.K
She’s almost screamed upon the realization that Master Jedi and GAR General Kenobi had taken the time -and patience- to find out who she was, and send her anything but a guarded escort to be court martialed. What she did was highly illegal. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind. However there seemed to be more than enough support from those like General Kenobi who preferred to turn a blind eye where it didn’t particularly involve decorum or Kamino.
But three months without a second visit from the Wolfpack’s leader had her worried. Normally troopers had more visits right after their introduction. They just can’t help themselves from coming back frequently, but three months was longer than any trooper had ever went without… never coming back. Her stomach flipped at the thought and she immediately turned off the holo so she wouldn’t have to hear the same new story repeating for the tenth time. She was due a visit, but the weather wasn’t looking too great either.
Storms always make for nightmares.
***
Rain poured down on the pack who had resorted to huddling in a cave on their designated sector of surveillance. All of them had been soaked to the bone during the journey to this mountainside, leaving their blacks to chafe against their skin as they tried to ignore the endless blanket of black clouds above them.
“This is kriffing unbelievable.” Sinker muttered under his breath, speaking what all of them had been thinking for the past week.
“Orders are orders.” Wolffe replied with a hard brow and narrowed eyed. “No matter what we did back there, we still have to keep pushing forward.”
“Surveillance? If we had done it our way, we could have beat the rain by almost three days.” Boost chimed in on behalf of Sinker. “We were supposed to be sent back to Kamino for relief after that encampment was neutralized.” Wolffe flinched at that damned word. The rain here already had him on edge, and waiting for a call back for decommissioning. Nothing would be worse than never leaving that kriffing hell-hole of a planet.
“Sorry Wolffe.” Boost rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just wet, and it’s rubbing me in all the wrong places.” His grimace was honest, but Wolffe still hated just how brutally honest his vod was. “I’d give anything for some industrially washed and dried blacks right about now.” He chuckled dreamily, doing everything he could to keep from letting his teeth chatter.
All the men grunted in agreement, but there was an air of unspoken acknowledgement of what they truly wanted. Of course Wolffe wanted those grey sweatpants and that bluefruit, but even his brothers weren’t lost to the comfort of a bed and a heavy blanket that somehow suppressed even the worst of their nightmares. But not even that little house could save any of them right now. It looked like rain for the rest of their patrol, and without comms -which hadn’t been stable for three standard hours- it was going to be a long night.
Wolffe offered to take the first shift, seeing that none of his men would be suitable to stay up any longer without a little sleep. Just as he’d always done, there was no one that would be more uncomfortable than himself. He settled his back against the edge of the cave opening, watching out into the darkness with his thermal mod, hoping not to see anything moving out there in the distance. Even with their combined reserves in ammunition, there would hardly be enough to save them from any real threat. But so were the lives of clone troopers. Woefully unprepared for anything but the basis of survival. Wolffe cursed himself for wishing that he could leave this place, and slump over the threshold into a quiet space where that strange chair would be waiting for him. It was a selfish thought; One not of a Commander. Kriff, it really wasn’t the thought of a soldier at all. But he took a deep inhale just to imagine the smell of home.
With one last glance back into the cave he found his men, curled around each other in a pile. Stripped of their armor with no regards to how regulation didn’t permit such things. A tangle of legs and arms stuck out of the tight conglomeration, reminding Wolffe of just how frightened they all were. It wasn’t because of the war… or even the thought of dying that scared them. The certainty of being alone was what had the Wolfpack burying their faces in each other’s chest and breathing erratically with the pace of their nightmares being fueled by the horrors they’d endured.
Morning was slow coming.
***
“In latest news, the recent war efforts of the Republic have not gone unrewarded…” The news anchor’s voice sounded far too chipper for a 2 a.m. report. “Flights have been schedule to land in the capitol city of Coruscant beginning at 4 o’clock standard time. We are told that the two month fight for control was won two weeks prior to this current broadcast, and safety measures along with host planet aid were being supplied to natives.”
The woman droned on about the Jedi and their valiant efforts for another twenty minutes before finally closing out the segment. The girl wasn’t denying that the mysterious Jedi weren’t great leaders, but never was a word spoken about the troopers who would be returning on those flights home. More importantly, that meant that things were going to get busy in her quiet home. Instantly, her laundry took a backseat to the identical grey sweats she kept on hand. As did any plans in the later day to have lunch at a little restaurant right off base.
A quick order on her holopad had groceries and other necessities arriving within the hour by a droid-carrier and there were the last two blankets to be finished before the first flight would dock. If she was lucky she could sneak into her side of the house before that tell-tale sound of the key in the lock whistled alarm bells in her head. Many things went into her planning. Changing the sheets on the beds, replacing the heated wax bowls that kept the house from smelling like food and her constant habit of putting lotion on; Not to mention making sure that there was no trace of her presence in the house.
It was simply precaution at this point. Most of the boys barged through the door, yelling for her like they truly expected her to be waiting at the door with open arms. All of them practically screamed their desire for domesticity. And for the most part she was willing to oblige. Of course there was the less-often happenstance that troopers came for something a little more… specific. With credits in hand for any desire that she’d be willing to fulfill.
But they were all turned down.
Sex wasn’t something she provided, and as far as she was concerned seeing the credits in their hands made the entire thing that much more transactional. Nothing made her stomach curl as badly as a man willing to pay his entire month’s paycheck on a blowjob, only to be turned down by the silent response of a -seemingly- empty house. It was quite the scene when they expected to be met with their share of Twi’lek women blow off steam with, then punch a hole in her wall when her home didn’t meet their expectations.
Nothing phased her anymore.
Except for their appetites.
Which was why when the doorbell rang, and the polite greeting of her freshly-polished droid friend brought her back from recollection.
“This is quite the order!” He exclaimed, hilariously animated with a wide upswing of his arms. “I haven’t seen one this big in… four months!” His math was scarily accurate. In fact, it was four months to the day that she’d put in such a large order. Even the sense of urgency she’d felt then was present today.
“Yes. I do believe you’re right… I’ll admit I’ve let my shopping list get a bit behind with all the commotion going around.” It was a terrible lie. But this poor droid had no idea what he was truly talking about, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “Just help me with the heavy ones, please?” She swung the door wide so that he could pass through with two armloads full of boxes and bags.
“Would you like me to help you stock-“
“No! N-no thank you. I-I’ll get everything figured out myself.” She quickly cut off his programmed offer, finding it hard to trust to droid now that he’d had an obvious tune-up since his past visit. She couldn’t be sure what kind of monitoring systems were in place, but it wasn’t that big of a security measure to enforce. In a stroke of luck -or faulty wiring- the droid didn’t insist and carried In the rest of the bags that the girl couldn’t get in the first two trips inside.
“Have a good day.” The pile of metal bent at the waist, giving a slow bow before being collected into the speeder, where it disappeared back down the street.
She couldn’t be more elated to see the entire house prepared, with more than enough time to stretch her legs outside before the possibility of a visit. Another bad habit she had… never going outside. Even better, she’d be able to see the first wave of ships landing from her front porch. It was almost a religious practice at this point to pinpoint the pin-up style graphics painted on the sides of the gunships and air-freighters. But it would be hard this early in the morning to see much of anything, even with the bright streetlamps all around the base.
She walked down to the end of the street, just trying to pass time when the loud boom of ships breaking atmosphere echoed high above the steam and clouds. Instinctively, she hurried back to her steps and sat down with patiently trained eyes waiting for the ships to break though the white smoke.
First came the 501st, smoke billowing out of their right engine. Nothing new there… Next appeared the 212th without a single visual scratch, descending just as cautiously as their General and respective Commander. Four more landed before the girl caught sight of a ship sporting the snarling profile of a large wolf just below the cockpit glass.
The 104th .
Her heart jumped at the thought of Wolffe retuning safely. Or at least, in her optimistic mind that he was on board. The image of the snarling canid disappeared below one of the tall barracks building, effectively ending her welcome view of the returning troops. And just like clockwork, she retreated back into her house to quietly settle in for whoever decided to come home for a couple days.
***
Wolffe could honestly say he tried not to return. He’d done everything in his power to keep from looking towards that row of houses that had suddenly become the focus of his dreams. It was unrealistic to believe that only one night could change him, but with one look in a reflective surface he had to remind himself that change was the only consistent thing in his existence. Wolffe knew that he wasn’t the same man he used to be. At one point he thrived on the lack of responsibility, feeling invincible when his bucket was on with two blasters smoking after a heavy firefight.
A born-leader, fearless, talented. All these described Commander Wolffe in the reports that were filled out over his career. It’s what got him promoted to Commander. Master Plo had been more than thrilled to see Wolffe take on the role, given how trustworthy the trooper was. But the reflection he saw now wasn’t the same.
Angry… bitter… lethal. None of these were the traits of a man who deserved the respect of his brothers. Yet, not a single command had ever been challenged. Deep down, he wondered if it was because they knew how quickly he would crash and burn without some semblance of control. That was what had Wolffe exiting the front doors of 79’s, long before the first round shots of would be passed out to his men. They hadn’t been planet-side for two standard hours, and Wolffe was already halfway to her house before any rational thought could register in his mind. He wasn’t happy coming here. If anything it infuriated him that he hadn’t gone a single day in three months without imagining walking through those doors, and maybe getting a glimpse of the woman who had him tangled in a web of confusion.
The flag still waved proudly in her small front yard, beckoning Wolffe to come just a little closer. He wanted to scream at his own weakness as he reached for the key, and pushed it into the door. A wave of worthlessness washed over his posture when that light, familiar scent filtered through his bucket. All the anger evaporated into pure uncontrollable, powerlessness when he saw a new sign sitting above the boot-mat and armor crate.
Welcome home Commander Wolffe,
He couldn’t remember a time where stripping off his blood and soot covered plastoid felt better than it did at that moment. Not even his bucket received any more decorum than a light toss into the crate where he was more than happy to leave it for as long as he could. For a moment he thought about how euphoric it would be to never pick it up again, but he quickly dismissed the thought before it could gain any more traction.
His toes flexed against the carpet, wiggling them like a small child would in a base effort to receive comfort. The cream-colored material cushioned his feet unlike any new pair of boots he’d ever been given. What had to be a simple sensation to the girl living here, was something that Wolffe was almost overwhelmed by feeling. His gaze ended at the end of the hall where no sign hung off the banister of the stairwell, but he knew exactly what his options were. And the promise of hot water made a shiver run up his back. He didn’t want to be in this house smelling of blasters and sweat any longer than necessary, not to mention how much the girl would have to clean up after him if he didn’t.
Wolffe actively listened for any movement around him, hoping that his ears might give more information about where the girl was during all of this. He knew that she was the one who polished his armor, and washed his clothes but her lack of sound was almost frightening to the battle-hardened Commander. She had to be practiced enough that no-one saw her, or the men were just that willing to keep her identity unspoken. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs Wolffe opened his mouth to speak; Nothing would come out. For all his mental fortitude, not a single sentence he could come up with sounded good enough in his head. A tinge of frustration gathered in his chest as he climbed the stairs in hopes that rinsing off the sweat and dirt would help him think a little clearer.
The water felt great jetting out hard against his back, practically powering the thick film of dirt off his skin. Even the tinged water running down the drain supported that he wasn’t just being intolerable of his condition. He really did need a shower. Again he stayed longer than necessary, letting all the hot water run out before he decided to step out. His hair wanted to curl after a heavy cleansing, and despite his efforts to slick back the kinking strands it wasn’t going to be possible without a haircut in his near future. He gave a somewhat contented sigh, resigning to let his unruly hair fall out of its normal style just for one night.
The bed had been made up just as tightly as before, yet somehow still held onto an heir of comfort that Wolffe silently thanked. He reached up to the top of the doorframe, resting his weight on his palms as he searched for the possibility of another strategically placed sign, letting his back stretch at the inward sway of his hips. For a moment he wondered how tall the girl was. Of course everything here was of standard size, but almost everything at the barracks was doubly large, making his body feel much larger in her home.
He found the sign barely glowing, in the form of a holopad sitting at the foot of the bed. Picking it up, three questions appeared on screen. Along with a note typed in smaller font at the bottom.
Breakfast Request?
How soon will you be leaving me?
Is contact allowed?
I will still be able to hear you, if you choose only to speak.
Whether it was how tired he was, or the knowledge that she would be listening for him the name of those things she’d made him for breakfast escaped his mind. Embarrassingly, he typed “What you made last time.” As for leaving, he was certain that gave her a better idea of how long she would have to take care of his laundry -and even more disturbingly- the process of cleaning his armor. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing out the images of smeared red all over the blue and grey paint, wishing that this girl wouldn’t get near it. “Three nights. If that’s allowed.” Was what he decided to reply. He paused on the last question, remembering it from last time and how quickly he’d declined. Only now the silence of the house was drawing his curiosity to what it sounded like when she wasn’t hiding away. Maybe she wouldn’t mind talking to him like she did his vod.
Your face isn’t like theirs… He snapped at himself, quickly rebuking his thoughtless remark with the reminder of who he was. Even if he didn’t feel like it, faking control was the only reason he still held his title. Commander.
“No contact.” He typed, before submitting the small questionnaire.
Withdrawing from forcing the girl to make him food at such a late hour, he untucked the multiple blankets and slipped himself under them. The subtle pressure of the thickly stacked material left him fighting sleep within minutes. After months in caves and mud-floored tents, Wolffe’s duty was still calling him to listen for the slightest disturbance. But somehow he’d missed the appearance of rain hitting the covered windows and roof above. It was only natural that rain would follow him back to Coruscant. But it wouldn’t make any difference anyway. Even if he’d been ordered to sleep out in the street, the rain wouldn’t bother. It’s what the rain muffled that kept Wolffe fighting to stay awake inside the girl’s house. Now he couldn’t hear footsteps, or the sound of the doorknob opening. Even when the house was deadly quiet he couldn’t hear the girl enter and drop off his blacks, practically right next to his head.
The medics would call what he was feeling now PTSD; Or a hypersensitivity attack for the troopers that didn’t like the word Trauma. Wolffe was one of those men. It made him feel defective. Another kriffing defect that he couldn’t get under control or fix. He had them often; Normally brought on by storms like the one over his head now. The only thing that ever seemed to help was heat. By discovery of huddling up in a pile with his brothers Wolffe found that the constant supply of heat helped loosen his muscles and quiet the constant thoughts of protectivity that jarred his mind.
Defeated to fight it much longer he returned out into the hall where he opened up the closet and reached for another blanket to add to the already towering stack. Only the top one couldn’t have weighed less than twenty pounds.
She has these for a reason.
Wolffe splayed it out, and crawled back under to feel a surprisingly welcome sense of… well, he didn’t really know how to explain it. What mattered was that for the time being he was losing the battle of staying awake. Maybe he’d sleep for the first time in over two months. All thanks to the girl who somehow padded around this house like a wolf-pup with too much fur in-between their pads.
***
Downstairs the girl was patient to listen for sounds of snoring. Something she’d grown to think of as a real sign of “at-ease”. Once the heavy breaths evened out, she went about collecting the Commander’s armor and helmet with the upmost care to stay quiet. By the datapad, she’d have two full nights to work out the scuffs and stains, but that would be in-between avoiding the gun-shy trooper. She couldn’t imagine that he would stay away from her rocking chair either, which meant she couldn’t hole-up in there. After so long, she hardly had a sleep schedule. Some men came during the day, and the others flowed in at night. Therefore the only thing that kept her up to date was the chrono on her wrist that vibrated every hour, and the daily serving of breakfast she sent in the hotbox.
Balancing the stack of armor in one arm, and tucking his bucket under her arm she moved all of it into her private wing of the house where a single light had been turned on so she could get to work. With brushes, a spray bottle and a determined expression she got to work scrubbing away at Wolffe’s cuirass, noting the many divots and depressions that signified direct -or ricocheted- blaster charges he’d sustained. More heartbreaking was the unlimited number of stains that smeared over the surface. Maker only knew how many of his brothers had fallen all around him. But she kept working until her hands begun to get stiff from scrubbing and polishing a good half of the stack.
From there she cleaned herself up, and quietly made her way down the hall and upstairs to gather the laundry. First the towel, then Wolffe’s blacks which had been neatly folded on the sink.
Even now, he’s still cleaning up after himself. She shook her head in dismay.
Letting Wolffe’s shirt fall out of its folds she looked over the material for any holes that might require a replacement set, or at the least a patch-up. Not that she hadn’t paid attention to how big all of the troopers were, but staring at how wide her arms were spread to keep the shirt un-wrinkled it finally set in.
She’d seen the way he lazily leaned against the doorframe, not even needing to straighten his arms to reach above the trim framing the opening. Noticing how the shirt she supplied Wolffe with rode high on his hips, even raising up to show tanned skin when his arms were above his head. At first it was a completely care motivated observation, where she reminded herself to order talls for the biologically enhanced men. But after trailing the deep sway of his exposed back, and the slight glimpse of his lower stomach it didn’t take much for her face to burn in embarrassment.
From what she saw in herself, the troopers were obviously in far better physical shape to do anything. Her stomach wasn’t flat like theirs, and despite having what she considered nice legs, there was nothing her thick thighs could beat the clones at other than maybe fat percentage. Not to mention how woefully small all-around she was. And Wolffe’s shirt was the proof. After three months of wear the shape of his back had stretched the material semi-permanently, leaving an almost cartoon-like inverted triangle sloping into a athletically trim waistline. For all she could do to ignore it, there was just as big of an overwhelming attraction.
He’s a GAR Commander, you know it’s wrong to think like that.
As if she’d never thought that before, her face heated again before returning down below stairs for the rest of the night. Only there did she think about hearing what Rex had said about Wolffe. The loss of his eye had been undoubtedly devastating. Why else would a trooper be worried? If he wasn’t suitable for duty, then he was to be decommissioned like a scrap-metal ship. But something else Rex said kept her awake long past the required amount of sleep she’d need to be completely focused tomorrow.
“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll never want to leave this place.”
She wasn’t sure if that was great news for the Commander, or bad news for the overwhelming duty she felt to see him feel something good for once in his life.
summary: From time to time Wolffe and the mechanic of the wolfpack steal time to share kisses because their relationship has to be kept a secret.
request: Hi! Can I request a mechanic!reader with the lovely Commander Wolffe please ❤ ~ anon
pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader, Sinker, Boost
warnings: fluff, secret relationship
words: 870
MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES
The sun is just setting on Naboo the moment she leaves her tent behind. Most of the clone soldiers are awake and performing their duties. So (Y/n) does the same and clutches onto her toolbox.
Someone calls her name and a shiny stops the mechanic in her steps. He is holding his helmet at his side and shows (Y/n) a sweet smile. To her surprise he has the significant wolf painted on the helmet. He must have been very brave on the 104ths latest mission to earn their symbol.
“Could you take a look at my gunship? It makes this weird sound during takeoff“, the clone asks slightly edgy and gestures to the hill where they currently keep all their gunships. Of course (Y/n) nods and follows the shiny pilot. He tells her his brothers call him Stardust.
Together they climb the hill and arrive at the makeshift landing place. The first rays of the sun touch the numerous gunships and paint them in a golden glow. Stardust leads the best mechanic of the wolfpack to his assigned ship with a grin.
But before (Y/n) can even start her diagnosis on the gunship, the laughter of other clones distract the two of them. Stardust greets some of his brothers and nods at the Sergeant of the 104th. (Y/n) does the same but she hugs Sinker instead.
“Wolffe should be here any time too“, Sinker tells the mechanic with a cheeky grin and winks at her. His helmet is laying where all the others are piled up. The embarrassed lowering of (Y/n)s gaze confirms Sinkers suspicion.
The second Boost appears the awkward situation is gone. (Y/n) greets the clone with a heartwarming hug and laughs at his excitement of her presence. As (Y/n) looks over Boosts shoulder during their hug she spots the Commander of the 104th and her smile widens.
Just like every other clone she greets Wolffe with a hug but this one is longer and above all tighter. She whispers a declaration of love in his ear.
“Will you help us paint the gunships?“, Sinker asks the mechanic with a bucket full of paint in his left hand. Boost is standing next to him with smaller pain buckets and some brushes. With a glance towards Stardust (Y/n) shakes her head because she promised him to take a look at his ship. Almost every clone sighs but soon they turn towards the first gunship to let go of their creativity on it.
Stardust leads (Y/n) to his gunship and starts it to show her what the problem is. Quite quickly the mechanic figures out what is wrong and starts working on the ship. After some time she realizes the shiny pilot gives his brothers longing looks. He wants to join their fun so (Y/n) tells him its okay to leave her alone.
The mechanic gets lost in her work until rumbling from inside the gunship startles her. Slowly she gets up and enters the cargo bay, only to get pulled into a hidden corner. Then she feels someones lips on hers but before she can try to push the stranger away she realizes its her love - its Wolffe.
“I missed you“, the Commander breathes against (Y/n)s lips and with one arm wrapped around her waist pulls her closer to his chest. Today he isn‘t wearing his upper armor so the mechanic can feel his warmth and muscles.
“Wolffe. Your brothers will miss you“, (Y/n) says as her lover deepens the kiss and lets one of his hands wander under her shirt. His rough fingers draw circles on her stomach.
“They can manage five minutes without me“, Wolffe returns and kisses a trail along his secret girlfriends neck. One of her hands wander to his cheek and caress his scar. The clone takes a deep breath but shows no other sign of discomfort, at least he is finally with his love.
Heavy steps echo through the gunship and before the two lovers can even part, Stardust whispers (Y/n)s name with panic in his voice. His eyes are wide and the brush falls from his hand. Wolffe straightens his back and steps in front of his love. Stardust swallows hardly because of his Commanders angry glare.
And then Sinker enters the ship as well. He looks more alarmed by Stardusts presence then Wolffe and (Y/n)s messy looks. With a growl the Sergeant of the 104th turns to the new pilot and points a finger at him. “If you tell anyone about what you just saw, I will be the death of you, do you understand me pup?“
Wolffe looks over his shoulder as his brother drags Stardust out of the gunship. (Y/n)s scared expression turns into a laughing one. She would have never expected Sinker to be so overprotective over the relationship of his Commander and mechanic. But she is grateful for that.
“Come! Let me show you what we did the last hours“, Wolffe takes his girlfriends hand and softly pulls her out of the cargo bay. Together they walk to the wolfpack who are still painting a few gunships. And as the lovers stop in front one of them, (Y/n) sees what exactly they have painted.
Welcome Company pt.3 "Nightmares & Knocks on the Wall"
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone! You're all so wonderful! <3
Much to her dismay, the rain didn’t let up into the morning. From out the window deep puddles had begun collecting on the street, and not even the drain grates were keeping up. Further in the distance she looked out at the barracks roofs, before checking the holopad on her side table. First, a message from Rex.
“Everyone made it back in one piece. Only I heard that you weren’t accepting multiples for the next two days. I hope it’s nothing to do with you, and all to do with one of my vod.”
It was all in good faith. Rex wasn’t subtle when it came to his proclivity of being protective. Once a simple stomach virus put her out of hosting troopers for a week, only to find Rex banging on the door, insisting to let him in. Unfortunate Kix had been drug along on his only day off to make certain that she wasn’t in more serious condition than she was letting on. Admittedly, a week was a bit too long. But it was all because she didn’t want any of them getting sick either. But at that point she wasn’t aware of their modified immune systems. They physically couldn’t get sick from her if they wanted to.
“You need a week’s rest after losing this much water… But we can’t get sick anyways. It’s just a nat-born thing doll.” Kix had said with a sheepish smile. He was always one of the sweetest boys, and she couldn’t help but love when he had the opportunity to come and see her. Plus, not many clones drank tea, preferring the more immediate effect of caf. But Kix always asked if she had some type of tea in stock. To his surprise, she always kept a variety for him to choose from.
She calmed Rex’s fears with a simple response. One that would surely make the Captain, and all those who were made privy quite clear on why the key was no longer under the porchlight.
“I’ve got a Wolf at home.” She smiled at the immediate response.
“Be careful. I’ve heard they bite.”
And with that, she left the holopad on her bed and made her way to the kitchen where the most silent breakfast on Coruscant was made every morning. Apparently Wolffe liked a sweet breakfast. Something she hadn’t expected out of such man as himself. But nevertheless, she thought about making his “flat bread and blue sauce” with a smile. She took a moment to type on the kitchen’s holoboard, unable to resist in using Wolffe’s own description of her meal. The blue fruit was easy to reduce into a thick syrup with the right amount of sugar and Dac honey that left the best aftertaste. As for Wolffe’s “flat bread” that was all homemade as well, with a recipe that her mother used when she was growing up. It wasn’t a normal breakfast for any of the other boys, who usually preferred more meat, and a little heavier bread. But when the Commander hadn’t been specific to what he’d wanted, the girl couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to give a clone something sweet.
It was quite evil really, where the Kaminoans hardly let them eat anything other than ground vitamins compressed into a crumbly bar. However seeing as Wolffe practically devoured the entire plate, it was more than acceptable in her conscious to let him have whatever he wanted.
Blue sauce or not. She gave a little snicker at that.
When the first creak of the floorboards whined, she packed up the remaining things on the counter and slid the first helping into the hotbox. And she carried the second back into her wing, where a smaller kitchenette shared the same wall. There she could finish the second -and third helpings- without hardly a second wasted gathering everything. Only once she was back in the smaller kitchen did she hear the tap in the kitchen turn on. A glass filling, and then a long pause before the glass was filled again. She’d just finished the second plate of food when the hotbox light turned green on her side, signaling that the door had been opened and filled.
After hearing a few steps taken away from her, she gave a soft tap as to draw his attention back.
When the light turned red a wave of accomplishment flooded her entire body. Warmth radiating out to her fingertips and toes in a positively addictive way she still couldn’t get enough of. But the deep rumbling sound of the Commander’s voice had her almost stumbling backwards.
“What you’re doing here is… well appreciated.”
Her throat contracted in terror, wondering if he meant for her to reply back. He was the one who said no contact… but she had said it would be possible for her to hear him. So maybe not? In the pause of silence, she hoped he would make it a little clearer.
For a long while she sat on the kitchen counter, replaying the sound of the Commander’s voice in her head. Trying to figure out why he was so good at confusing her without even doing anything that she hadn’t already seen or heard. The troopers all had their differences that slowly came to the surface, whether it was their personality, or even the small idiosyncrasies that they did their best to hide from those who wouldn’t approve. Yet the Commander was able to prove himself far unique to his brothers without even a full-hearted attempt at it.
The red light turned green again, and she repeated her process with the third stack of pancakes. A new record for him. Another little secret she liked to keep from even the closest of the men. Getting them to eat -maybe a little more than usual- always made her happy. Men that hardly ate anything in comparison to their body mass was practically insane. So allowing them to eat until they felt truly full, that was well worth it.
Again she felt her heart in her throat when the lowest, quietest chuckle permeated the walls and made it to her ears. His laugh was thicker than the Bluefruit syrup, and she couldn’t help but think that it was so much sweeter. Sinfully so.
“I’m full.” She heard him shut the door to the hotbox. “But… I’ll make you a deal.” Her heart practically stopped when another low rumble of a chuckle reached her.
“I had my breakfast, and after making all that I’m sure you haven’t eaten. So I’ll sit and wait for you, then I’ll clean your dishes like you’ve washed mine. I also want to see an empty plate.” He paused, waiting for her to make the next move.
It was enough to have her hands shaking as she reached for the door to the hotbox. There was no way on Coruscant she would be able to finish one of those pancakes, let alone the entire trooper-sized portion she’d made. Taking a deep breath, she stilled herself to open the door where she found the plate still sitting. Only this time there was silverware sitting next to the plate, and a glass of the milk she’d offered Wolffe during his last stay. Kriffing hell…
She ate almost everything, much to her surprise. But after realizing that she hadn’t eaten since long before his arrival it wasn’t really that hard to believe that she was hungry. Only then did she return the dishes to the box, and give a slight tap. Even shuffling out of the way of the box, like it would be remotely possible for the Commander to see her through the closed side. A second later, dishes were shuffled out of the box and over into the sink where the tap was turned on without a single word from Wolffe. The glass clinked against the plate as the girl imagined just what it looked like to see the tall soldier bending over her sink with his sleeves pulled up high enough not to get wet.
What a sight it would be. Big and tough Commander Wolffe of the 104th Attack Battalion, doing dishes for her. Motivation aside, the girl found herself wishing that she could just peak around the corner and get a small glimpse. But with the way she was struggling to keep her breathing under control, Wolffe would hear her coming a mile away. Instead she just closed her eyes, letting her overactive imagination roam far further than she’d normally allow; Picturing that same little slip of skin showing sinewy muscles over his hips and lower back.
Maybe Rex’s warning wasn’t as big of a joke as she’d thought…
***
Wolffe didn’t know what it was that made him do it. What possessed him to break the limit he’d set during his stay. At the same time, he was wondering if he could change his mind. Hearing the door to the hotbox answered at least one question he had. She could open it from the back side, which probably meant that the house was mirrored. But his overly confident assumption that she’d not eaten had spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Basely, he knew it was the unconditional acts of kindness that made Wolffe so willing to do something in return. Even if it meant bargaining with this girl on the other side of the wall.
But all his excuses didn’t account for why she’d obliged his request. Either she didn’t mind, and -hopefully- took it as an act of camaraderie. Or she was too frightened to say no. Maybe he’d scared her with his tone and she didn’t feel comfortable saying otherwise. It made his chest burn with the desire to ask her, and maybe find out what she thought about him. But that kriffing holopad he’d filled out lingered. Maybe she was just trying to abide by the rules he’d set for his stay. Most importantly, he wanted to know if he could change those boundaries.
He’d have to wait for the right time.
Until then, he’d do his best to not make a complete ass of himself by staying out of the girl’s way so she could live in her house as freely as she would if he wasn’t here. In fact, he was already in the mindset to find that strange chair of hers, and take a closer look at it. Wherever she’d got it, it must’ve been important enough to fix it, or leave it like it was.
He kept a sharp eye open for the girl, or maybe a way for her to get around so quietly. But as he opened the door to the room with the strange rocking chair, he couldn’t see anything particularly different about the house that would aid in the girl’s sneaking ability. Inside the small room Wolffe spent a little time examining the room around him better. A small shelf with flimsy books sat on the opposite wall of the rocking chair, and despite their being carpet in the room there was a fur-like rug that covered most of the room in even more cushioning. It felt warm in here, despite the rain that still poured out of the sky and a two lights in the opposing corners of the room left a yellow glow so unlike anything Wolffe was used to.
Mechanics wasn’t something Wolffe thought himself an expert on. But for some reason on another he could himself squatting down to get a better look at the chair in question. He pushed on the armrest, letting the chair rock back and forth a couple times, before guiding a hand under the curved blades that the chair used to rock. The wood felt smooth, and planes flat to a degree of accuracy that finally made it obvious to Wolffe that the chair had been made that way purposefully. He smiled in appreciation of the strange chair before taking a careful seat in it. Fully prepared this time for the falling sensation that followed his weight transfer.
“I’ve never…” he murmured quietly, doing just as he had before; Rocking himself until the perfect rhythm had his body pulling him towards sleep. Even with the soft glow of the lights, Wolffe didn’t have any trouble falling asleep in the middle of the day. For the second time in his life.
His deep breaths could be hear in the room across the hallway where the girl had curled up on the couch under the window to keep an eye on the on-coming storm clouds. He wasn’t aware of her protective watch over him, looking much like he himself did when taking his turn on overnight patrols. But instead of a blaster in her hands, she held thickly yarned material to which she looped over and over again in hopes that she would have these last few blankets done before Wolffe and his brothers were called back out for another three months.
***
He slept late into the evening, sprawled across the rocking chair with his arms locked tight across his chest, holding onto as much body heat as he could. Even in this safe place, he desired that warmth. The books on the shelving caught the attention of his drowsy mind, pulling him out of the comfortable chair and towards a book with a red leather cover. A gold substance had been used to highlight the letters stamped in the spine. Carefully he pulled the book out and let the thin pages flutter apart, almost stunned at the ancient way people used to read. He’d never seen anything other than a holopad. After reading a small portion, he realized that it wasn’t meant for adults. It was for children.
Surprisingly the language was very simple, and many rhymes were used. Wolffe couldn’t remember ever being given anything that wasn’t meant for learning. A little story about some fictional creature hardly had any meaning behind it. But something about the knowledge of the book itself made Wolffe that much more aware of how different he was from the girl living here.
He wasn’t made to live in a house like this. Or speak to civilians in the way he had earlier. He was anything but domestic, as much as he thought it would be a nice way to live. This warmth, and a childhood hadn’t been afforded to him, simply because there were others who inarguably had priority over him. Offering to fight a war was much different than being created for one. And the girl letting him stay in her house, wasn’t born for this. She chose to involve herself in the ugly, bloodstained duty of being a clone trooper.
He put the book back, and turned to see a sign attached to the door in that same pretty handwriting;
I hope you slept well, Commander.
Dinner is ready, at your convenience.
Sleep, eat, repeat. A viciously addictive cycle if he’d ever seen one. Only now, he’d have something else to do after dinner.
Wash dishes.
Another smile tugged at his lips as he made his way back to the kitchen. Where a green hotbox light shined. He ate slowly this time, pacing himself through the meal in the hopes that the girl had made seconds out of habit. Not even the well-prepared food was enough to keep his mind off of his little plan. In fact, he was more excited to see an empty plate come back through the door than anything he’d experienced in the house so far.
He sat the plate in the box, and waited for the green light to appear again. A muffled sound of shuffling on her end indicated that habit preceded her memory of that morning, and his heartrate quickened. He found clean silverware and filled a glass with water, before stilling himself enough to speak.
“Did you eat dinner?” He waited with baited breath.
Two knocks on the hotbox door.
He couldn’t help but smile at her quick thinking. Even with his willful interaction she was more than capable of speaking without breaking their agreement.
“Is that a no?”
One knock.
“You remember the deal?”
Knock.
“I’ll be waiting then.”
Wolffe took a seat on the floor, and rested his head against the cabinets. There he closed his eyes and tried to imagine what the girl on the other side looked like. Rex had said she was small, but when a trooper called anyone small that could mean almost anything. He had no idea about anything else other than a powerful disposition towards troopers, and a great talent at cooking which had proven itself after one meal. But he wanted to know what she sounded like.
“Do you talk to my brothers?”
Knock.
“How many have they stayed here?”
A quick succession of raps on the door put her point across.
“I’m not surprised…” He trailed, rubbing the back of his neck much like a shiny after being sat on his ass during hand-to-hand training. “Do you live alone?” Not the best question.
Knock.
“Do you like us?... Clones?” He asked.
Knock. Very heavily intonated.
Yes. He translated. “It seems as if you’re the guardian angel of the entire clone command.”
Before there was another knock, he heard the hotbox door again and the green light appeared. Wolffe pushed up his sleeves and opened the door to see an empty plate, saved for half of a roll that she’d left untouched. Even though it wasn’t what he wanted to see, he left it unmentioned and went about getting hot water running. In the meantime he tried thinking of another yes or no question.
“Do you feel safe with my brothers here?”
One firm knock sounded.
He hesitated, holding the glass up in his hand to see a visible bottom lip imprinted on the rim. A pretty shape and full. With what appeared to be a lip balm that had helped the print stick better.
“What about me?”
The heaviest knock of them all, this time against the wall instead of the hotbox.
“I’m not a good man. No matter what anyone says about me.” He argued against her fervent response, wondering for a second if she’d damaged the wall hitting it that hard.
Knock. Knock.
He shook his head, and placed the freshly washed dishes to the side of the sink to dry. He stared hard at the wall, like if he looked hard enough the wall itself would disappear and reveal the girl behind it in all her stubborn pride of the troopers.
“If you let me stay, you’ll find out just how bad I am for anyone. Even you.”
The girl either let him have the last word, or understood what he meant clearly enough that she’d decided to let him be. It was the end of their conversation. An end that had ended particularly so, due to Wolffe’s own fault to which he wasn’t very contented with. But that didn’t keep him from going back upstairs to check the messages left on his vambrace. Even off-duty he was still being bombarded with battle-front updates and the occasional check-in by vod, or General Plo. To his surprise, nothing came of his check. Not a single status report or comm had reached him in almost twenty-four standard hours.
Whether by luck or piss-poor stamina Wolffe wasn’t awake for much longer. Fully engrossed in self-doubt combined with the ever-present rain he didn’t last long before the worst of his memories came to disrupt whatever sleep his body had demanded of him. Loud screams, a clenched jaw and tightly fisted hands were all that Wolffe had to fight off the seemingly endless amounts of battle droids maniacally laughing as they approach him, and his pack.
***
Thunder boomed, shaking the whole house with a ferocity that rivaled the deep shouts and screams coming from the commander’s room upstairs. Lightning crackled in deep gashes over the dark shy, flashing light into all corners of the dark house. If anything could make Wolffe’s night better, shutting out the horrendous storm would be a good start. But at this point, there was nothing the girl could do to help. Wolffe had been adamant that he wasn’t good. But the screams she had been hearing were anything but the sounds of an evil man. He was hurting. Fighting for his life and there was no doubt in her mind Wolffe was already close to losing despite only hearing him for the past few minutes.
She stood stiff at the door to his room, hand hovering over the knob debating on whether or not to go in. It was dangerous to walk in. All the troopers -Wolffe included- kept their blaster in the room with them. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d walked in to soothe a nightmare only to be at the business end of a blaster, primed and humming with a finger over the trigger. Even Rex had been less than an inch away from putting a fist-sized hole in her chest.
But Wolffe’s screams were getting louder. So much so that his voice was breaking from the exertion and her own heart was getting heavy enough to make her sick. The Commander wasn’t giving her much of a choice anymore. So without much more of a thought, she opened the door as quietly as possible. She spotted his blasters right off the bat, sitting far out of reach on top of the tall dresser across from the bed.
“Sinker!” Wolffe thrashed against the bed, his head jerking back and forth. “Fuck… s-stay.” He whimpered, settling long enough for his mind to being recreating the next horror for him to endure.
The girl avoided the loudest floorboards and made her way over to his side, just far enough out of any danger while trying to think of the best way to help. She wasn’t sure that speaking would help. In most cases they hardly heard her, or their mind translated it badly enough that it made things worse. She leaned back quickly, staying out of his swinging arms range.
Touch… you know it works. He just needs touch.
Wincing and preparing for a hard hit to the face she placed a hand on Wolffe’s head. It didn’t quite help the way she’d hoped but it did limit the range of motion on one arm well enough that he’d at least hit her arm first before making contact with her head. Doing her best to avoid his scars, she ran her fingers through his hair. Doing anything she could to contradict the physical sensations he was used to experiencing. His sweat slicked hair curled around her fingers as she repeated the process of sweeping it back away from his damp forehead. Wolffe had barley settled, and she resorted to the only thing she thought might work.
“Shhh, Wolffe… you’re safe.” She whispered, brushing the pad of her thumb over his eyebrow; Paying close attention to the deep lines slowly fading from between his brows. “Sinker is safe, Wolffe. Everything’s okay.” Her voice softened, with the his body’s less frequent lurches.
“That’s it Wolffe, you’re doing great. Let go.” She soothed, letting her fingers trace over the scar above his eye. Another crack of lightning had Wolffe practically shivering and the girl cursed under her breath. It was almost useless with all of the thunder. He was going to wake up far sooner than she was going to be able to stop the storm.
She continued her soft touches over his face, humming a low tune she’d heard from Cody many times. He told her it was Mando’a almost like a lullaby. Whether Wolffe knew it or not, she wasn’t sure. But it had worked a couple of times before and she was running out of options. It wasn’t an easy song to sing. Most of the notes were far too low for her to reach, but she did her best to mirror it that same way Cody did.
Miraculously, it was working. Although he was still shaking like a leaf, his face had slowly begun to relax and the constant stream of strained whimpers and yelps had almost completely stopped. A deep breath filled his lungs, and she smiled victoriously. Running her hand back into his hair, she lightly scratched her nails against his scalp. Still humming that ancient song low in the back of her throat. Her eyes trailed Wolffe’s deep scar, and how dangerously close it had come to ending his life. Although she knew better than to say it, she was happy he’d survived.
Wolffe began to stir just enough that she felt confident in refraining from touching him anymore. She’d been lucky not to wake him up. But it appeared that Wolffe wasn’t keen on the idea himself. His arm closest to her searched out, bumping into her leg and immediately grabbing at her. Heavy, and hot his hand tried to find purchase on her bare leg before finding the hem of her shorts and tugging at it.
Touch starved.
She knew about how many of the troopers sleeping together. How two men to a bunk wasn’t unusual, and oftentimes they forwent bunks altogether and slept in piles. She watched Wolffe’s expression turn frustrated with every effort he put in going unrewarded. But she really didn’t know what he wanted. So she reached for his hand, and tried to slip her fingers between his fisted hold on her bottoms attempting to draw his attention away from the fabric. Apparently, Wolffe wanted nothing to do with it. He’d gotten just enough of a hold to actually pull her closer to the bed, and she yelped when a few stitches in the hem popped.
She huffed in frustration, and finally gave in to the adamant requests of the Commander. Pulling his hand away took quite a bit of effort -no doubt stretching out her shorts- but when she was finally free she settled herself down next to him. She leaned her back against the headboard, and waited patiently for Wolffe to figure out where he wanted to be. By the time the Commander had gotten comfortable his head rested on her upper thighs with an arm slung over them; His huge hand curling around to the back of her thigh in a tight hold. His other arm had wedged itself behind her and his fingers had fisted themselves into the fabric at the waistband of her shorts.
Wolffe practically clung to her, every so often jumping at the thunder, resuting in an even tighter grip on her hip and leg. She did her best to calm him, returning her fingers to his hair and humming to keep the sounds of the storm at bay. But after a few hours of consistently tight holds on her legs, she could feel the soreness of bruises beginning to form on the back of her thigh. It was the closest any of the troopers had ever been, and despite the anxiety of how she was supposed to get up without disturbing him, a part of her wished that she didn’t have to. Wolffe was unreasonably warm, running a temperature far higher than she did. But it wasn’t too far of a jump to assume that all the men ran hotter than a nat-born. It was frustratingly relaxing to feel such consistent heat, and she was certain that was what Wolffe was wanting too.
The girl took the opportunity to admire his features; At least the ones not hidden in her legs. He had a strong jaw, and the sensitive skin on her thighs proved he’d not shaved in a few days. The mental image of Wolffe standing in front of a mirror to shave sounded wildly domestic, yet contradictorily part of his clean-cut persona. His scar was barely visible, but she tried not to dwell on it just for his own benefit. It was obvious how desperately he tried to hide it. Even when he walked down the street towards her house he wore his bucket. Hardly any off-duties wore them voluntarily. The helmet gave him a way of looking identical. Thick strands of hair shined a hue of blue in the moonlight, so dark that it almost disappeared into the shadows of the room. As for the curls, it was a wonder that he could keep it in the style he wore without a couple loose strands falling onto his forehead. It seemed Wolffe couldn’t get away from being professional even when it came to his hair. Even the thought of Wolffe having tattoos like his brothers sounded practically unbelievable. Yet with the blacks coming up high on his neck, and the sweats she supplied, there was no telling what kind of ink the Commander could have hidden away under his clothes.
But here, he couldn’t hide. Not with the way he’d soothed himself to sleep by burying his face into her shirt. Wolffe came into her house looking like the true embodiment of duty and honor. A soldier who took orders with full confidence, and not a single ounce of question. Not just a clone, but a warrior. Laying here though, he looked like man who needed something more than battle plans and a gun. A person who desired purpose, but wanted a choice in what that purpose was. The girl knew Wolffe wanted a life.
She spent the night putting braids into Wolffe’s hair, twisting little knots just to let them fall out. Of course she tried to stop multiple times after her fingers begun to get stiff, but the fussy Commander wouldn’t allow it. He’d fidget and complain silently until she found another way to pacify him through the night, either tracing her fingers down his back or running her nails over his scalp. It was an enjoyable affair, watching him respond so willingly to her simple comforts but she had to remind herself that it wouldn’t last past night. By morning she’d need to make breakfast, and be back to hiding away like he’d requested. He wouldn’t remember anything other than a lack of nightmares, and that was the way she had hoped it to be.
But sleep didn’t just come for Wolffe.
It came for the girl just as quickly as it had for him.
Is this even real? Am I dreaming? Me from April 2019 would have never imagined to get this much attention and love. I still can‘t believe that so many people like my writing. But I‘m very grateful for each one of you!
I LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU SO MUCH :)
Here is my small gift for you:
cuddling with the clones
the bad batch
the 104th
the 501st
the 212th
you can request other battalions or even single clones !
(and for my diego simps: you can request anything because I want to write for our favorite knife boy again :)
btw my requests are open so you are allowed to request anything you want !
