After the Fifth...
Characters: Fox and Tini (no pairing) Warning: angst and stubbornness Words: 573
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Five cups.
Peet was requested to deliver caf to Commander Fox’s office, as he was usually too busy to come down for it himself anymore. Which was reasonable.
But five cups of caf a day was pushing it. Tini gets the request again, making it the sixth time that day, and it wasn’t even dark out yet.
So she sighs, makes the cup, and stomps up there herself, leaving the tapcaf under Peet’s supervision. She finds the door and waits to get permission to enter.
“Come on in, Peet,” Fox’s voice says through the speaker. He sounds exhausted and worn.
Tini walks in, going right up to his desk where he’s bent over a data pad. Fox holds his hand out, at level with where Peet could reach. Tini places the cup on the desk instead, loud enough to get his attention.
He sits up, “Tini, I didn’t think—”
“This is the sixth cup,” Tini points out, “which is twice the number you typically get, and it’s barely passed noon.”
Fox’s tired gaze hardens, “You’re not the boss of me. My superiors want this data work done by today and I need to focus.”
He reaches for the cup, but Tini picks it back up. True, she isn’t the boss of him. But if she didn’t take care of the troopers that come through her door, like she told them she would, then she might as well quit.
“Tini,” Fox grumbles.
“You keep drinking caf like its water and you’ll end up in the med bay,” Tini scolds. She softens as she sighs, “Maker, Fox… how are you able to focus?”
“I will once I get something to drink,” Fox says, eyeing the cup.
Tini sets it down out of his reach and walks away. Fox stands, groaning at something in his back. He walks around the desk, but before he can grab the cup, another one is in his hand.
“Then drink some water,” Tini says.
Fox sets the water down and still reaches for the caf.
Tini mutters something about a one track mind, then pushes him to one of the chairs on the visiting side of the desk. The trooper in full armor sans helmet, built like a soldier with the balance of one, falls like a slab of duracrete into the cushion.
Tini stands between him and his objective. “No, Fox,” she scolds. The speed her face goes from a disappointed scorn to doe eyed care leaves Fox with whiplash. “I’m trying to help you…”
Fox mutters, “You can help by helping my brothers.”
“And I’m helping them by getting you to relax,” Tini states, “they are worried sick every time Peet leaves with a cup for you. If I didn’t come up here on my own, they would have asked me to.”
Fox looks down at the floor. His eyes start to droop, but he shakes his head to keep them open. Tini kneels down next to him. “I can’t…” Fox says quickly, “I have to finish my reports.”
“Fox,” Tini says, “you can’t right now. Wearing yourself to the bone will not help your brothers.”
Fox wants to curse her for using his brothers against him. But he knows she’s right. He leans back, his head hitting the chair with more of a thump than expected. “Just five minutes,” he relents.
As his eyes close and he drifts off, Tini murmurs, “You’ll need far more than that…”