A Hound and his Dragon
For the DRAGONS!!!! (many exclamation marks!) square on @rooksunday's Monster Bingo card (you can find it here if you'd like to use it!)
Tags: Crackfic, Angst writer tried to be funny, least there's a dragon!
Also on AO3!
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Fox stared at the trooper, then down at the holo resting oh-so-innocently on his desk.
“You’re shitting me.”
The trooper flinched. Fox groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Briefly, he contemplated slamming his head into the desk, repeatedly, either until the trooper worked up the courage to stop him, or he passed out. Surely being declared medically unfit for duty would be better than dealing with this crap.
“Apologies sir, I’m not sir.”
He peered through his fingers with one bloodshot eye, taking in the trooper stood rigidly at attention. Barely a shiny. The Kaminoans were practically throwing them out the doors once they could wipe their own shit these days.
“Just the one sighting?” He sighed, scrubbing one hand over his face and picking up the holo. No point in whining about it. The job would just fall to Thorn if Fox got himself shipped off to Kamino, and Prime help the poor bastard if that happened.
“Only one with holo evidence sir,” the shiny shuffled anxiously.
Which meant there’d been several. Force, Fox could not catch a Prime-damned break.
He pinged Stone on the comms. “Get the others,” he ordered, when a bleary eyed blue holo fuzzed into existence. “They’re not going to believe this.”
—
“That’s a dragon.”
Stone’s deadpan declaration was met with blank helmets. Which was fairly normal really, but felt appropriate.
“Fuck off!” Thorn burst, grabbing the scopes from Stone’s hand and turning to look themself. Fox knew the exact moment they spotted the beast from the way they fell back hard, landing on their arse with a thump. “Well shit.”
“A dragon,” Thire said, voice flat and terse. “A Prime-damned dragon.” He cackled, a twisted, ever-so-slightly-insane sounding cackle. “I can deal with banthashit Senators, Sith Lords and dumpster diving Jedi, but you’re telling me I have to deal with Force fucking dragons now!?” His voice grew louder and louder, arms flying wider and wider as he spoke. Thorn began frantically shushing him, nervously glancing back at where the formerly-impossible beast sat, cleaning between its front claws.
Fox watched thoughtfully. Perhaps they’d put a little too much on the youngest Commander. He could do with a break. Then he caught his own thoughts and snorted. They could all do with a break. Not a cadets chance in a Senate Ball they’d get one though.
Stone, of course, was already over the shock and actually dealing with the situation.
“Hound’s on route,” he announced, shutting off his comm and taking a seat against the wall of the shaft they were currently hiding in. “Let me know if the dragon does something interesting.” With that, he promptly crossed his arms over his chest and went to sleep.
The three of them still awake stood, staring down at the slumbering Commander.
“How the fuck does he do that!?” Thire demanded, stomping his foot.
Stone snored in response.
—
Hound arrived with surprising haste. The Massif sergeant could be relied on for many things, but punctuality, despite how often he’d been threatened with decommissioning over it, was most definitely not one of them.
In fact, he arrived so quickly, and with such fervour, he blew right past his Commanding Officers.
Fox blinked bemusedly in the dust of his passing. Thire turned and began banging his head against the wall (although what he thought that would do while he was wearing his helmet…), Thorn started after the Sergeant, blaster already drawn.
Stone snorted, then stretched. The crack his spine made was audible even through his armour.
“I take it Hound just got here?” he asked, standing with what Fox thought was a bizarrely relaxed air.
“Apparently,” Fox snarked, checking his own blaster and snagging Thire by the back plate before he could put another dent in the shaft wall. “Didn’t think to wait for the rest of us though did he?”
Ironically, he didn’t wait to hear Stone’s answer. Thus, he missed the way Stone shook his head and threw up his hands in exasperation, before leisurely strolling along behind them.
Fortunately, the headstart had given Hound the time he needed.
—
“So,” Massif Handler Fluffy (a name chosen for him by his siblings, as he was in fact, a complete arsehole), “we have a dragon now?”
“Yup!” Hound chirped, leaning forwards over his dragon’s browbone to rub his knuckles over the perfect spot between their eyes. The dragon, a rather fine lady Hound had decided to call FlameDeath (Hound did not appreciate the art of subtlety), rumbled a pleased hum, closing her eyes and tilting her snout to get his scratches right where she wanted them. “Fox said I could keep her!”
Fluffy turned to stare at said Marshal Commander. Said Marshal Commander who was currently slumped at one of the benches around the thankfully quite large Warren Hanger bay, head in his hands.
Stone cleared his throat, stepping aside to block the sight of Fox in crisis. “Rest assured that the dragon has been authorised,” he smiled.
A shiver went down Fluffy’s spine. He might be an arsehole, but he was well aware of when to shut his mouth.
They both watched Hound for several minutes, as he clambered all over his new pet, Grizzer scrambling after him, tongue lolling gleefully. For a moment, all was peaceful in the Coruscant Guard Warren.
“How the fuck are we going to feed a dragon!?”
Trust Thire to ruin it.
