Drift + "Is this how you flirt with everyone?"
Drift x GN!Reader fic, written for SeedsofHope on AO3. They submitted this request just before my requests were closed. Drift is an ARC trooper OC from my series Gar Cabur!
Word Count: 4,200
Warnings: mentions of weapons, reader is cranky, Drift is flirty and a little pushy, mentions of burnout, lots of sass, attempted bribery.
*Gif will make more sense after you read the fic*
Your office was small and dingy, cramped and loud. You couldn’t expect a lot more from a small room attached to an armory and a practice range - especially ones that offered larger-scale weaponry - but it was still nice when things got quiet for a moment. As the main armory for the Grand Army of the Republic, the entire complex was situated in a repurposed building in the heart of Coruscant’s Republic City. You weren’t honestly sure what the building had started its life as, but it must have been something huge, because neither the armory or the range were small. They couldn’t be, not to store weapons for such a large army.
You liked your job, and you were good at it. You didn’t mind the hustle and bustle of arming a platoon or helping a recent batch of commandos test their newest weaponry updates, but there was something to be said for the occasional quiet moments. If nothing else, they let you get a little extra work done on your mountain of forms.
“Well, look at this!” a voice crowed, breaking the tenuous hush of the small room. “Imagine finding someone so stunning working here! It’s like finding a hot spring on Hoth.”
Grieving the quiet that you had only barely gotten to enjoy, you gritted your teeth so hard that something in your jaw twinged. “What can I do for you, Drift?”
Drift’s grin grew wider, if possible. “You might wanna put some limits on that question or I’ll start getting ideas.”
You were going to kill him. It had been a long time coming. Maybe you could even claim self-defense? Probably not, but if you happened upon a judge who had known the exuberant trooper, you might get a lightened sentence due to sheer sympathy.
“What do you need from the armory?” you clarified.
“Well, it isn’t really what I need,” Drift started, and your eyes almost itched to roll in their sockets. “It’s more about what I deserve.”
“We aren’t allowed to hit people,” you said tonelessly.
There was a beat of silence - something you would guess didn’t happen often around Drift. You refused to give him the satisfaction of looking his way, but you could see his reflection in one of the datapads lying on your desk. One of the many datapads, holding the veritable stack of work you had to do. Too much work to fixate on the mixture of offense and amusement that tangled together in his expression.
CT-6476, or ‘Drift’, had been a pain in the ass since the first time he had stepped into the small office. Actually, from what you gathered from the other departments, he had been a pain in the ass long before then, but you hadn’t had to witness it. He had made his way through the GAR headquarters here on Coruscant like a whirlwind, leaving a chaotic mess behind him. He pestered, he begged, he charmed… whatever he had to do to get what he wanted. He had even managed to pull rank with one of the administrators. You didn’t know what moron approved Drift for ARC training, but you had a few choice words for them if you ever crossed paths.
“You’ve got a bit of a backbone on you, huh?” Drift asked eventually. “I like that.”
“I’m going to ask one more time,” you warned him. “In the context of this armory and the GAR-sanctioned activities that take place here, what do you want?”
After a long moment of carefully studying your expression, Drift seemed to find your utter lack of flexibility and willingness to put up with his nonsense in your expression. With a short nod, he revealed, “I want access to an ACPA gun.”
You fought the unprofessional urge to snort at that. Accelerated Charged Particle Array guns were expensive, useful for very specific circumstances, and dangerous even when compared to the other weapons used by the GAR. “You’re an ARC trooper, Drift. You have no need of an ACPA.”
“You haven’t even listened to my reasons!” he complained.
“Fine,” you agreed evenly, crossing your arms over your chest. “Convince me that you need access to an ACPA and I’ll sign one out to you.”
Drift’s eyes widened greedily and he hurriedly started his explanation, ticking points off on his fingers as he spoke. “It’s a good close-quarters weapon, and most of my missions fit that description. The ACPA works similarly to the ACP Repeater, but at a slower rate of fire, which isn’t a problem for me. It doesn’t work well in long-range missions, but it tends to disable a target in one shot, which is always helpful on ARC missions. ACPAs are also better for use against shields, which, again, I come across fairly often. Finally, the commandos get to use them and it’s not fair that I can’t.”
You stared at Drift and the stupid smile he sent you with the last point, as if you were meant to be charmed by his childishness. “Request denied.”
“You didn’t even-”
“ACPAs are good close-range weapons for organics, not droids,” you told him, ticking his points on your fingers just as he had done. “The vast majority of ARC missions have droid targets, so that makes no sense. The comparison against ACP Repeater rates of fire is empty, since you’re also not cleared to use an ACP. If you did happen to get an assignment where the target was an organic, those missions are to retrieve the target. Your commander would be the one to order a kill and they would either have the correct weapon or a close-range shot from a DC-15 would have the same effect. If you needed to disable a shield, there are other methods less likely to result in a ricochet casualty. Finally, I don’t care what commandos get to do. The fact that mentioning them was part of your argument makes me feel like I should pull all of your weapons proficiencies, not add a new one to your list.”
Drift was gaping openly at you now. “But- That isn’t- I-”
“Feel free to submit the necessary forms,” you told him, pulling up the required document with a few easy swipes on the nearest datapad before shoving it in his direction. “But I can tell you now that the only thing it will get you is an electronic record of the request’s denial.”
Drift’s face was something you would treasure for quite some time - a combination of frustration and disbelief. But he smoothed it over in a moment and you carefully noted the facial control.
With an easy shrug and a smile he clearly meant to be charming, Drift said, “Maybe an expert needs to fill out the forms for them to be considered valid.”
And you watched in shock as he slid the datapad back toward you. You laughed, and the sound managed to be both surprised and derisive. “Are you seriously asking me to fill out the forms for you so that I can deny them when I submit them to myself?”
Drift didn’t answer that, just gave you a hopeful smile.
You shook your head. “Maybe it looks like I don’t have much to do here,” you started sarcastically, gesturing expansively to your large datapad collection, “but I assure you that I would rather not use my working hours to do things that are an utter waste of my time.”
“Aww, c’mon,” Drift urged, apparently deciding that turning up the charm was his best bet. He raked fingers through his carefully cut hair, obviously flexing his bicep as he did so. “Surely there’s something you can do to help me? I do return favors, you know. And I return them any way you choose.”
“Is this how you flirt with everyone?” you asked, lip curling in disgust.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Drift admitted shamelessly.
You heaved a sigh. “It’s amazing your success rates are as high as they are.”
Drift’s eyes sharpened and a delighted grin spread across his face. Just as you were internally cursing yourself for the slip, he said, “Now, how would you happen to know so much about my success rates? Unless, of course, you really are interested in… working with me. So to speak.”
His waggling eyebrows spoke loudly enough and you really did roll your eyes that time. “Request denied, Drift. All of your requests are denied. Get out.”
“Sure,” Drift agreed easily, stepping toward the door. Just before he actually exited your office, he glanced back over his shoulder and grinned at you, eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief. “But I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
He was gone before you could decide if that was a threat or a promise.
Either way, it wasn’t a lie. Drift did indeed see you shortly after that - the next day, in fact.
You were trying to muddle through the mess that the second- and third-shift supervisors had made. The armory was always manned by someone, but you seemed to be the only one who understood how to file forms correctly. You always had to spend at least the first two hours of your day working to fix their mistakes, which was an extra challenge considering that your shift was by far the busiest in the armory.
“If it isn’t my best friend!” a voice greeted from your doorway.
Instantly, your shoulders shot toward your ears. “Drift, if this is about the ACPA again-”
“It isn’t,” he reassured, and you relaxed slightly despite yourself. “This is about me telling you we’re going on a date tonight.”
At last, you glanced up at him. Drift was standing in front of your desk, looking fully confident in everything from his posture to his smile. It irked you deeply and you took a moment to breathe through the irritation.
“Why would I agree to that?”
“Well, you’re incredible and I’m fantastic,” he explained as you tried to fight off the thousand-yard stare you could feel taking over your face. “Together, we’d be even better. You deserve me.”
That almost made your vision fade a little bit at the edges. “I don’t know what I could have done that was bad enough for that kind of galactic punishment.”
Drift scoffed. “It’ll be fun. I’ll grow on you.”
“I don’t have the funds for that kind of medical bill,” you sniped.
Laughing despite himself, Drift said, “C’mon, I’ll win you over in the end. You and me. Tonight. Maybe seven-thirty?”
“Sure, but I’ll be a little late,” you breezed, noting the look of satisfaction on Drift’s face from your apparent agreement to his date proposal. “I have to wait for something and then I’ll meet up with you.”
“Wait for what?” Drift asked, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion. “And I didn’t tell you where-”
“I have to wait for the population of Coruscant to drop down to single digits,” you revealed. “And then probably another few months to scavenge up something to wear.”
“Okay, that’s-”
“Of course, we’ll have to worry about the wild, post-apocalyptic beasts that will wander the rusted wasteland of Republic City. And that’s assuming the apocalyptic event wasn’t something that would be dangerous in itself, because I’m not sure I could make a haz-mat suit formal enough for any half-decent restaurant-”
By the time you had finished musing over the options for accessorizing a haz-mat suit without weighing yourself down in the event of a running escape from post-apocalyptic beasts, Drift had left your office.
…But only for roughly the span of one day.
The next day, he actually managed to knock on the door to your office. You, stupidly enough, assumed it couldn’t possibly be Drift on the other side of your door since he had never displayed any sort of manners, and you invited him in.
Drift stood wearing his dress uniform. His hair was neatly combed, and the designs cut into his hair seemed freshly redone. He was holding a small container of candy - a type you highly enjoyed, though you weren’t sure if that was due to an accident or careful reconnaissance - and a small potted plant.
“Hello,” he greeted, and you stared at him in shock.
When you could finally remember how to form words, you said, “I didn’t know you knew how to greet someone.”
“They taught us a few manners in ARC training,” Drift joked with a casual shrug.
"You buried them well," you told him. "What do you need today?"
"I need you to go on a date with me," Drift replied seriously.
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Why are you so insistent on this all of a sudden?"
"Because I've figured you out," Drift explained, looking pleased with himself. "You're strong and intense, like black caf. You need something smooth and sweet to even you out."
"I like my caf black," you told him.
"And I don't like caf at all," he replied. "See? It's perfect! We would balance each other out."
"I like being bitter and off-putting," you said. "It saves me time."
"Maybe, but I think you're like this because you have to be," Drift mused, studying you. "You weren't always so harsh."
The insightful comment shook you to your core… and that made you cranky. "What do you want, Drift? Get to the point and get out."
"The point?" Drift paused for a moment, and you could see the struggle between sincerity and attempted charm raging across his face. In the end, the charm won out. "The point is, I don't know if I can survive another minute without knowing that you have feelings for me, too."
"I guess you'll have to find out. Best of luck for your continued survival." Your clipped statement was merciless, and Drift left without another word.
You felt a little bad when you realized that he had left the candy and plant behind, but you chalked that up to frustration about the forms you had yet to fix, but you couldn't stop yourself from glancing over at Drift's abandoned presents.
He was back again the next day, knocking politely at your door. You were wary of anyone with manners now, though, and skeptically called for the person to come in.
Drift stepped inside under your watchful gaze. The amount of attention you were paying meant you noticed the way Drift's eyes lit on the candy and plant from the day before, an expression of mild disappointment crossing his face for a moment before he smoothed it into a neutral mask once more.
"I see you didn't like the stuff I brought you," he said, gesturing vaguely to the plant and candy.
You glanced at them, too. "I don't take presents if I don't know where they came from."
"They came from me," Drift reminded, smiling a little when you made a face at him. "Fine. One of my nattie officers felt bad for me and helped me buy some stuff for you."
"You harassed someone into giving you money?" you asked, trying to shove away the sympathy and… warmth that rose in you with that realization. He hadn't even taken them with him. He could have tried to get his credits back. Well, not his credits, but still…
"I harassed someone into helping me show you how much I appreciate you," Drift countered.
"Why would you appreciate me?" you asked, letting your frustration leak into your voice. "We have literally never had a positive interaction. All I do is insult you and turn down your attempts at getting access to an ACPA."
"Not quite true, is it?" Drift asked. "I haven't tried to get an ACPA since the first time we met. What you keep turning down are my attempts to get you to go out with me."
You wanted to argue with that, but after you thought about it for a moment, you had to admit that Drift was right. He hadn't asked about the weapon since your first meeting.
"I… guess you're right about that," you eventually agreed. "Well, go ahead and make your normal request, then. I have to get back to work."
Drift eyed you with a knowing smile. "I don't think I will," he said at last. "Have a good day."
And then he turned to leave as you watched, frowning. At the last moment, you called, "At least take your stuff back."
For the first time in several days, Drift seemed almost offended. "I bought them for you. If you don't want them, that's fine. But they're yours. I won't take them back from you."
And then he was gone.
You had planned to take a three day weekend and knew the plant had no hope of surviving until then. None of the others who used the office would bother to water it. And you certainly weren't going to leave them the candy to enjoy on your behalf. You did your best not to think of Drift outside of working hours, but you couldn't help the image of him that appeared with every bite of candy, or the way you thought of his voice every time you looked at the now-thriving plant.
By the time you went back to work, you had gotten three days of rest and relaxation. You were ready for whatever your job could throw your way - weapons damages, inept coworkers, flirty troopers… anything.
At least, you had thought so before you caught a glimpse of the disaster of the forms that had been 'completed' during your time off.
Drift appeared right as you were letting out a string of cathartic curses in Huttese.
When you had finished, he lifted a single eyebrow, looking impressed. "I didn't know you were multi-lingual."
“Stick around a little longer and you’ll get to hear even more,” you told him, tossing a datapad to the desk in outright disgust.
“Is that an invitation?” he teased.
You glared at him, a venomous retort springing to the tip of your tongue, but you sighed instead, scrubbing at your eyes. “I really don’t have the energy for this today, Drift. Not from you. Please, if you don’t need something from the armory, would you just leave? I have so much to do, I could scream.”
“Whoa, really?” Drift asked, and you would have berated him for asking dumb questions if he didn’t sound so concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? I know you’ve been gone the past few days…”
You shot him a suspicious look, but relented, massaging your temples as you started your explanation. “I took a three-day weekend. Big deal, right? People do it all the time. But what I forgot to take into account was the fact that the other two managers for this office don’t actually do their work. It’s bad on a normal day when I have to come in and fix the forms for the two other shifts. Weekends are particularly bad. But this?”
You could see Drift frowning in your peripheral vision as you made another irritated noise. You had hoped that talking about it would make you feel better, even if just a little bit. Instead, you were struck anew by how unfair it all was. Why were you doing the work of three people and only getting paid to do your own? Simple: because you were the idiot who cared. If you didn’t check, fix, and resubmit forms, the armory’s inventory would be off, and then the troopers wouldn’t have access to the things they needed when they needed them. You refused to let that happen, but working this hard all the time was starting to kill you.
Suddenly, you were uncomfortably aware of the silence in the office. Normally, silence was a rare treat, but this one was loaded with tension.
Keeping your eyes away from Drift's, you gave the most careless laugh you could muster. "But it's fine. If I don't do it, no one will. It's my own fault that's not an option for me."
"Why isn't anyone else doing their work?" Drift asked, his voice tight and displeased.
You had never seen him truly upset before, and you couldn't keep your eyes from flying to his face. He looked as angry as he sounded, but also, he was looking at you like he expected an answer.
"Lack of training? Lack of experience? Lack of caring?" You shrugged. "Could be any. All. Who knows? I'm just… tired of being tired."
"Why do you care so much about this?" Drift asked. The question would have sounded accusatory if not for the genuine curiosity in his voice.
"I… can't explain it," you hedged, and he didn't press for you to go on. Instead, he just sat quietly and waited for you to say something. "I can't fight in the war. I can't do anything that directly impacts the troopers or the battles. All I can do is the work I've been given to do. So I do it well. It isn't much of a contribution to the war effort, but it's all I can offer."
"It's a huge contribution," Drift argued, and you looked sharply at him, suspicious that he was mocking you. He seemed sincere, hard as it was for you to believe that. "It's more than most people outside of the GAR do for the war effort."
You nodded, feeling the sting of an empty reassurance. Drift didn't seem willing to let that stand.
"Hey, I'm serious," he told you, stepping just beside your desk and crouching down to catch your eye. "Just because you work with a bunch of… lazy people… doesn't mean that the work you do is less important. It's probably even more important, because no one else would even catch that there was a problem."
Despite yourself, you smiled at Drift's last-minute edit of whatever he had been about to call your coworkers, and found yourself smiling even after he had finished his little speech.
"Thank you, Drift," you said, surprised by the flood of gratitude you were feeling. "It means a lot."
"Just- stop being so hard on yourself," Drift urged, awkwardly giving your knee a pat. "The universe is gonna do enough of that. Don't give it any more help than it already has."
You smiled even more broadly at him, but cut it off to heave a sigh. Under Drift's quizzical stare, you pulled out a datapad and pulled up a form. It took less than two minutes to input all of the necessary information, then you slid the datapad over to Drift.
The trooper studied the datapad for a long moment, frowning at the displayed document. Eventually, he asked, "What is this?"
"A completed form, giving you access to an ACPA gun." There were about a hundred qualifying statements you had built into the form, but you felt like that would cheapen the gesture somewhat. You didn't often make grand gestures, and you wanted to do it right.
But it seemed that you hadn't.
Drift set the datapad on your desk so that both of you could see the screen, then carefully and deliberately deleted the form.
"Thank you, but no. I don't want access to an ACPA," he explained slowly.
"But…" you struggled to gather your shocked thoughts. "That's what you wanted from the beginning. You have no other reason to be here."
"That's not what this is about. Not anymore," Drift said. "I think you're amazing and I want a chance to get to know you better. Also, I checked out an ACPA four hours after we spoke the first time."
The beginning of Drift's declaration had shocked you so badly that the last part took a moment to filter through. But when it did… "Wait, what?"
He grimaced. "You weren't kidding about the other two supervisors not doing their forms. One of 'em bypassed the security protocols as soon as I mentioned that I'm an ARC."
"I'm gonna kill them," you growled decisively. "Both of them."
"Well, before you go to prison, will you please agree to go out with me?" Drift asked.
"Answer one question for me first," you commanded. "Was all of this some weird ego trip for you? Am I just a challenge?"
"No… no! Of course you aren't!" Drift denied, then heaved a sigh. "I can't lie - one of the things that first caught my interest was when you asked if I flirted that way with everyone. No one has ever called me out quite that bluntly before. And I liked it. You're tough and you don't take any osik from people. So, yeah, that may have been part of it at the beginning, but… I dunno. I got to know you a little more. And especially today. Every time we meet, I learn more about you and I want to keep it up. Good enough?"
Your proverbial hackles tried to rise at his final question, but he hadn't said it disrespectfully. It was said in a nervous, hopeful way instead, and you gave a slow nod.
"Yeah, that's good enough. Dinner, tonight? My treat."
"Sounds great," Drift agreed, beaming. "Especially it being your treat. I'm out of credits."
You rolled your eyes, laughing at the same time. Drift bounded to his feet, kissed the top of your head, and left you to your work.
---
A/N - I'm still trying to nail down Drift's personality, so this may be terribly OOC at some point, but I like how it turned out now. Thanks for reading!
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