How about Sev/Glitch and "fill, separation, registration"? (Asdfghjkl those are genuine results i got and i have the screenshots to prove it lmfao)
how far is kashyyyk from draay 2 i wonder? (i did not check *handwave handwave*) you get one definite prompt fulfilled and vibes on the other two.
Sev is four places back from the head of the line when his attention gets drawn. “Where is your registration,” the droid intones, and a far too familiar voice responds.
“Here, you see my registration,” the clone says in a smooth cadence. He sounds like… Bard’ika trying to mind-rub some two-cred lowlife.
Does he really think he can use the Force? Does he think it’ll work on a droid? As far as Sev knows, it doesn’t. That guy is so screwed.
He doesn’t have a registered chain code either; Sev had been planning on trying to jam or slice his way past the tinnie. He needs to get off this waystation just as badly as the other clone seems to.
The droid is making increasingly obstinate noises, so Sev shoulders past the queue and steps up. “Give my brother here a pass, bolt-brain, or we’ll start realigning your vital circuitry, cozen?”
“Attempted security breach has been reported, please proceed to the waiting area without further deviation,” the droid says, and that’s enough for Sev. Who knows what it’s called down upon them.
He busts its bucket and proceeds somewhere decidedly other than where they’ve been instructed to. “Let’s go,” he growls, manhandling the other clone along with him by a firm grip on his bicep.
He hasn’t seen another clone in months. He’s not leaving him behind, not like some guys might.
“Hi,” the clone says, sarcastically hysterical, “how are you? I’m just fine, thanks for ruining my plan to keep my head down and get through here quietly, appreciate it!”
“You’re kriffing welcome, di’kut,” Sev says. “You’re plan wasn’t working, I improvised and adapted it. You packing heat?”
“Do I look like I—through a security checkpoint? You’re insane. You’re insane! Let go, I can kriffing well walk on my own. Insane,” he mutters, capping off his tirade.
“Sev, actually, a commando,” he introduces himself.
“Glitch,” the trooper grudgingly responds. “And I do have, uh…” At this juncture he flashes open his poncho a bit to reveal a honest-to-goodness lightsaber.
He does think he’s a Jedi!
Alarms have begun going off around them. Sev moves faster, as quickly as he can on his fucked leg. Glitch sees it, ducks under his arm, and loops his arm around Sev’s waist, seamlessly falling into step and taking weight off the injury.
It’s been even longer than the last time he saw his squad since Sev’s been touched, and he flinches, accidentally making overly honest eye-contact with the Jedi-clone. Now’s not the time to be thinking about the heat and press of a body against his vulnerable side, the comforting heft of a brother under his arm, the familiarity and the disparity of it being a total stranger.
Glitch is startled by it too, and his tongue reflexively darts out to wet his lips.
“So, Commando, you want to, hmmm, share the rest of our escape plan?” he asks, and Sev ruthlessly jerks his brain back into tactical mode.
First they have to make it out of here, and then they can figure out …everything else.
Lost Boys 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51594406
