Happy Fixer Day!
11/40 has been designated as Fixer Day. I encourage all of my vode to check out the wonderful art and writing under the tag!
In honor of our favorite green-clad slicer and medic, I have a one shot for you. Fixer hasn’t had a good morning, but that’s about to change.
Fixer and the No Good, Very Bad Morning
Rating: T for cursing
Fixer’s alarm sounded. He rolled over and smacked at the bedside table, trying to find his comm. He growled when he grabbed it and saw what time it was.
“4am, I don’t have anything to do today and I forgot to turn off my alarm, fan-fucking-tastic,” he grumbled and tossed it across the room.
He pulled the blankets up tight and rolled over. He was determined to go back to sleep, but wasn’t working. He didn’t know how long he’d tossed and turned since he’d thrown his comm.
With a huff, he tossed back the covers and got up to retrieve his comm. 0415am. He rolled his eyes. He pulled on his shorts and was about to head towards the kitchens. If he was lucky, no one else was up yet. Kyrimorut was often quiet in the early morning on weekends.
He turned and smacked his pinky toe against the leg of his bed frame.
“Fierfek! Fucking osik’la bed!” He cursed through gritted teeth.
Fixer had clearly endured worse major and minor injuries than this, but he could swear that stubbing his pinky toe was infinitely more painful.
Once the pain subsided, he slid on his shoes and left. Hopefully fresh caf would make this morning better.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the kitchen was indeed empty. Fixer liked quiet mornings where he could sip his caf in peace and come alive for the day. That had never been the case when he was in the army. Fixer was always ready at a moment's notice. But now? Life was a little slower and he’d adapted well.
The caf maker bubbled, gurgled, and steamed as it brewed. Fixer took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of fine caf. He’d become a caf snob the second he tasted something better than what the army served.
His favorite mug was ready and waiting in the cabinet for him. He grabbed it and sat it on the counter, filling it with the hot caf. Fixer picked it up and closed his eyes, taking the first small sip.
“Oh, good morning. Fixer, right?” A woman’s voice asked.
Fixer startled and his favorite mug went crashing to the floor. It shattered on the tile sending shards and hot caf everywhere.
“Fierfek!” He jumped back, narrowly avoiding most of the splash of hot liquid.
“Oh maker! I-I’m so sorry. Are you burned?” She rushed to him.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt and some had indeed spilt on his chest. A little had splashed his ankles, but it wasn’t serious.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said.
She dampened a cloth and moved to wipe his chest. He caught her wrist before she could touch him.
“I’ve got it, thanks…,” he didn’t know her name. He took the cloth and wiped up.
“Sianar, my name is Sianar,” her cheeks turned pink as she looked up at him.
She’d come to Kyrimorut a couple days earlier with Ny. She’d stolen information from the Empire and was on the run. Fixer was shocked she’d remembered his name. They’d only met briefly when she came and she gave him the datasticks she’d acquired.
“That was my favorite mug,” he muttered as he moved to clean the mess.
“I’m so sorry, I was trying not to scare you, but obviously that didn’t work. I’ll help you.”
Fixed hadn’t heard her walk in. He was going to have to pay more attention.
“Why are you up so early?” He asked.
“I could ask the same of you,” she snorted. “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been awake for hours.”
“I forgot to turn off my alarm,” he shrugged.
The mess was easily swept and mopped up. Sianar poured two mugs of caf while Fixer put away the mop and broom.
He sat across the table from her. She stared into her caf like she could see something no one else could.
“I’ll buy you a new mug,” she said softly.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll find another. There’s a potter in Enceri that makes them,” he leaned back in his chair.
Sianar nodded.
Despite the dark circles under her eyes, she was pretty. Fixer hadn’t paid attention when she’d arrived, but he was now.
“Vor’e for the datasticks, they’ll be very helpful.”
“You’re welcome,” she stirred her caf even though it was just black.
What Fixer didn’t know was that she found him attractive, and trying to carry on a conversation with a shirtless commando was intimidating.
“You ok?” He asked hesitantly.
She pulled her sweater tighter around her.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m just tired. There’s so many people here and I know none of them.”
“You know me,” he smiled.
She looked up. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Why don’t you go to the living area and I’ll stoke the fire. You look like you’re freezing,” Fixer stood and drained his caf.
“I am. I’m not used to cold weather.”
“Where are you from?”
“Tattoine. It’s very hot there.”
“It is. This is mild weather for Mandalore,” he laughed lightly. “You can make yourself at home here, just so you know.”
He filled his mug and escorted her to the living area. It probably was chilly, but it didn’t bother him. He put a couple of logs on the fire, instantly reviving it.
“Would you like a blanket?” He asked.
“Please!”
Fixed reached to grab one from the community blanket basket, only to find that Mird had nested under it. The strill looked up at him and bared its teeth. Fixer shook his head and laid the blanket down.
“Sorry about the blanket, but unless you want to smell like strill, you don’t want it,” he rolled his eyes.
“What?” She crinkled her nose.
“Vau’s pet strill, Mird, has decided to nest in the blankets. Strills are smelly,” he explained.
“Oh! That’s alright, my sweater will be fine, especially with the fire,” she smiled.
Fixer sat down in a chair, but disaster struck again. There was a loud creaking sound and Fixer landed hard on the tile floor. He laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Maybe he should have stayed in bed.
“Are you ok?!?” She was suddenly standing over him.
He huffed.
“Just hurt my pride,” he managed to get up. “Now what made this chair fall?” He mused as he walked around the front of it.
There were large gnawing marks on the front leg. There was only one thing in the house that would leave gnawing marks.
“Mird!” Fixer hissed.
The strill popped its head out of the blankets and, deciding Fixer looked like a threat, ran off, likely to the safety of its master.
Sianar giggle uncontrollably. It really wasn’t that funny, but exhaustion multiplied it.
“That’s a strill, if you were wondering,” Fixer grumbled and sat down on the couch.
She sat on the other side, still laughing too much to drink her caf.
Fixer held his face in his hands, wondering what disaster would befall him next. He’d never believed in luck, but he was certain this must be bad luck.
A hand on his shoulder made him sit up. She was looking at him with a soft smile, warm eyes, and tear stained cheeks from laughing.
“Hey, it’s ok. Your day will get better,” she sat down next to him, careful not to touch more than his shoulder.
“I hope so. It’s starting out strong in the wrong direction.”
“It hasn’t been all bad, has it?” She gave him her best tooka eyes.
“No, it hasn’t. At least it’s been you here, my brothers would make fun of me forever,” he scoffed.
“Fixer?”
“Yes?”
“I-I hope it’s not too forward, but do you have a partner?”
Fixer felt his cheeks burn and turned his attention to the fire.
“It’s not. No, I don’t,” he said.
Sianar shivered and pulled her sweater tighter again. She started to go back to her corner of the couch to get her caf, but suddenly, Fixer’s arm was wrapped around her.
Fixer could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t know her, what was he doing? He wanted what his vode had with their partners. If he wasn’t bold, it would never happen. He could feel her tense at first, then relax.
She laid her head on his shoulder. She wasn’t usually so forward, but this felt right. Fixed shivered.
“Are you cold, too?” She asked.
Fixer wasn’t cold at all. Her hair brushing over his collarbone had sent a different kind of shiver through him.
“I’m fine now,” he said. “Would you like to go to dinner tonight? Enceri isn’t far and I just thought you'd like to get out for a bit.”
“That sounds nice,” she murmured. “I-I’ll buy you a new mug.”
Fixer felt excited and nervous. This wasn’t his area of expertise, but he’d manage. He idly rubbed her arm as they sat quietly.
“What do you like to eat?” He asked after a time.
She didn’t answer. Fixer hadn’t noticed she’d fallen asleep. He lightly kissed the top of her head and settled into the couch. Her warmth was making him sleepy. Fixer gave in and shut his eyes, letting himself drifting off to sleep.