Hello!!! For the prompts, may I propose Alpha-17 & Colt with number 5 in the touching list? 🧡
(Also Hi this is svar I remmwber to sign 🙈)
Colt grumbles and leans against the side of the bunk. “You still don’t want to go to the infirmary.”
Just slightly above him, Seventeen grumbles back. Like it’s Colt’s fault he fell into a mess of plants that made even their allergen free genome give up, leaving him a mess of fever, chills, snot, and sweat. One trip to the infirmary and he’d be fixed up, but the bastard was committed to toughing it out.
“Kark off,” Seventeen says. He sounds like his nose is completely stopped up, and it’s followed with a hacking, violent cough.
Then he goes terribly, terribly silent.
Colt scrambles around and finds the bastard’s gone and passed out. He’s still breathing, but it’s shaky and slow. Colt digs around the sheets for his arm, pressing his fingers along the veins to try and feel a pulse. Kark, kark, kark. “You are not allowed to die on me you piece of shit,” he snaps, his hands shaking as he has trouble finding it. But he was never the best at first aid. “Shab,” he mutters, and it may be the first time he’s spoken Mando’a since the war started.
Kark it. Seventeen can get mad at him later.
He pulls his former classmate out of the bunk and gets him on his back. This at least he was good at, in first aid. Carry dead weight.
Well, hopefully not dead.
He hauls Seventeen all the way to the infirmary and clings to his arm while the medic—some kid Gilamar trained ages ago and is still here to teach while he does his work with the hospitals—checks Seventeen over and gives him an antihistamine shot.
As Seventeen’s colour gets better, Colt feels himself calming down, but he still has his fingers pressed to Seventeen’s arm, feeling his pulse.
They can’t lose any more of their class.