One-Shot: Boss + Competence
Sergeant Boss x gn!reader (no pronouns, no use of 'y/n')
Word Count: 4,700
Warnings: Frustration, feelings of otherness, disrespect
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“Ten o’clock, Boss,” Scorch muttered, elbowing Boss lightly in the side.
Boss glared, but he knew it was useless. Nothing could put a damper on Scorch’s personality, especially when he thought he was helping. Besides, the head’s up was a sign that there were more important things to focus on.
And, sure enough, there you were.
A long-term mission with standard troopers hadn’t been a good use of Delta Squad’s time, in Boss’s opinion. The main strength of a commando squad was that they were fast and subtle, able to move in and out of an area without drawing a lot of attention. Strapping them with an entire Venator-class Star Destroyer was taking away that advantage as much as anyone could.
But you had turned out to be an unexpected benefit. From what Boss could gather, you did something with the computational systems aboard the Resolute, though he hadn’t narrowed down exactly what your specialty was. You seemed to bounce all over the ship, working on whatever needed attention at that particular moment.
Maybe you would have continued to be just another member of the ship’s crew - nat-borns weren’t common on ships, but they were hardly as rare as he would have thought - but you had quickly drawn Boss’s attention with your sharp temper.
The first time someone had interrupted a vital power connection so they could charge a datapad, you had removed the offending connection and taken the datapad for good measure. The foolish owner had attempt to dress you down for confiscating the datapad, but you had pushed him aside with ease. In the end, you had threatened to tell his commanding officer that he had left sensitive information in such an easily accessible place.
Any other stupidity had been met with an equal amount of sarcasm and impatience. It was everything Boss wanted to do when he was tired of trying to set a good example for the rest of Delta Squad. There was only so much idiocy any one person could be expected to endure, and it was clear that you had hit your limit.
So, yes, watching you was one of Boss’s great joys. He justified it to himself that he was being respectful. He could also make sure others were being respectful, as well. From your temper, Boss assumed that you could take care of yourself, but you were in an unfamiliar place. You were outside of the typical power structure, which could put you at a disadvantage if someone decided to push your boundaries.
Boss only realized how far his thoughts had drifted when he felt the others staring at him. Sev shook his head despairingly. “I thought you’d be able to handle yourself better than this, Sarge.”
“Are you kidding?” Scorch asked. “This is the first time I’ve seen him look that way at something other than his Deece.”
“Shut up, Six-Two,” Fixer ordered. “Three-Eight, if you want to make a good impression, I hear conversation is a good start. You won’t get anything out of staring from across the room.”
“For once, I agree with Fixer,” Scorch said.
“I do, too,” Sev said.
Boss started to seriously consider the merits of desertion.
“We’ll leave you to weigh your options,” Fixer said, marching away. Sev and Scorch followed after a moment. Scorch offered a broad grin as he left, nodding so determinedly toward you that he attracted a suspicious look from your direction.
Boss turned away before you could follow Scorch’s gaze to him. That was all he needed - to be taken out by Scorch’s irritating nature before he’d even had the chance to make a good first impression.
By the time he glanced back over, you were putting the finishing touches on some wires you had been setting up near the front of the room where this meeting was to take place. He didn’t envy you - the Negotiator was moving in and out of hyperspace to throw off chances of being tracked. It was a strong method of ensuring security, but it made connections to outside sources complex and unreliable.
You hardly seemed concerned, face unworried and hands sure as you wove together connections, typed strings of code into the terminal, and laid out the holoprojectors.
Boss tucked his helmet under one arm, inching closer to you under the guise of making room for the others who were filtering into the meeting room. You were just as stunning up close. Boss was struggling to come up with a conversational opening when you gathered some spare bundles of wires, tucked them into a bag on your shoulder, and left.
He was still trying to manage his disappointment when General Kenobi started the meeting.
Somehow, Boss managed to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. He chalked it up to some quirk of Jango’s genes that allowed him to remember every word with only half of his attention fixed on the proceedings. Delta Squad was a temporary attachment to the 212th. What did they care about setting long-term goals for better intelligence? Intel was intel and all of it was terrible. That was just how it went.
“Sergeant Boss,” General Kenobi called. Boss turned his way, allocating approximately 5% more of his attention to the meeting. “Commander Cody tells me that you recently experienced trouble on a mission due to subpar intelligence. Can you tell us more about what happened and how you handled it?”
Boss fought back a snort. “You’ll have to be more specific, General. Most of the GAR’s intel is subpar, especially for the commando squads. More often than not, accuracy takes lower precedence than timeliness.”
General Kenobi’s gaze sharpened. “What percentage of your information would you estimate is accurate and useful?”
And so it went. Kenobi wasn’t satisfied knowing about Boss’s low opinion of GAR intel - he wanted to know details. It was a special kind of hell for Boss, who wasn’t used to explaining his thought process or how his squad worked to anyone other than General Windu. Even then, the Coruscant debriefing sessions were usually kept as short and vague as they could manage without sacrificing important information.
The meeting devolved further and further until it was little more than CTs asking for stories about commando missions. General Kenobi cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m sure we all have important tasks to which we must return. If the sergeant has time, he can answer your questions. In the meantime, you are all dismissed.”
Despite Boss’s best efforts, he was surrounded by standard troopers, stuck in the room until he had given enough vague answers and sharp reprimands that the crowd dissipated. He allowed himself a moment to silently curse Kenobi’s name before voices at the front of the room attracted his attention.
“Excuse me, but that is not the proper way to disconnect a holoprojector.”
There was a sigh, and Boss could recognize the sound of it without a moment of hesitation. You were back.
“You aren’t listening to me,” the officer repeated. It was one of the nat-borns - a tall, lanky man drowning in his own self-importance. “I said, that is not the proper way to disconnect a holoprojector.”
You dropped the cords in your hand, letting them hit the table with a weak slap. “Listen, lieutenant-”
“Captain,” the man corrected, puffing out his chest so you would be sure to see the collection of medals there. Boss was willing to bet that none of them were earned for doing anything that could sully the captain’s perfect uniform.
“Captain, then-” You paused again, letting the silence dangle as you peered at him. “What’s my rank?”
The captain frowned. “You… don’t have a rank.”
“Exactly.” You started gathering the cords again, eyes dropping to your work. It was clear from your posture and the tone of your voice that you weren’t meekly looking away. No, the man had been dismissed, for all that you were still talking to him. “That’s because I’m a contractor.”
“Yes, you are.” The captain frowned harder, like he was trying to see the trap in your statement. Boss started to grin, having already spotted it. “But-”
“If the GAR had to hire an outside contractor to handle their comms, it means that no one else knows how to do the work I do.” You finished rolling the cords into neat bundles and turned your attention to the holoprojector itself. “I’m the expert here. So you can take your opinion on how I do my job and-”
You glanced around the room, eyes meeting Boss’s. He felt electrified by the eye contact, but you turned away just as quickly.
“And keep it to yourself,” you finished.
“You’re a civilian serving on a military vessel,” the captain sputtered. “I am certain you signed an agreement to obey commands given by the officers-”
“My contract says I answer to General Kenobi,” you told him. “Any complaints about my performance go directly to him. He’s on the bridge if you want to report me because you don’t like the way I roll cords.”
And then you turned to retrieve the case for the holoprojectors. It was an end to the conversation, as clearly as if you had left the room entirely. The captain stiffly walked away. Boss wondered for a moment if he really was going to the bridge, but then he put the man out of his head. You were in the same room, and he wasn’t going to waste another chance to speak with you.
“Hey,” he started, walking over to the table where you were working.
…Only to freeze when you fixed him with an evil look. “I’m not in the mood for anyone else to tell me how I’m doing my job wrong, thanks. Since everyone is so concerned, let me explain how it works: I sign out all of the equipment I use, and it is regularly inspected by someone else. If there’s any damage from the way I set up or break down the equipment, it will be found and I’ll be held accountable. Leave me alone.”
Boss was loathe to refuse such a direct request, especially since he could hear the weariness in it, but he was horrified at the idea of leaving you to think he was on the same level as the others who had doubted your ability to do your job.
“Sorry, I just- wanted to tell you how much I respect the way you’ve been handling all of the osik they’re throwing your way.” An expression of bone-deep irritation had crossed your face when Boss started to speak, but it faded as you listened to the rest of his statement.
“Osik is banthashit, right?”
Emboldened by the lack of vitriol, Boss nodded. “Basically. Any idiot with eyes can see that you know how to do your job. They’re just questioning you to make themselves feel better about not being able to do what you do.”
“Among other things,” you agreed dryly. “I already know that’s what they’re doing.”
An uncharacteristic self-doubt swept through Boss and he wondered if he had overstepped. That was eased when you took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing when you let it out. “But thanks. It’s nice to know that someone else sees it, too. Makes me feel less like I’m pushing a speeder uphill.”
“You’re good at your job,” Boss said firmly. “That’s not in doubt by anyone who matters.”
“That’s-” Your comlink interrupted and you let out a frustrated groan when you looked at it. “Sorry, I have to get to another setup on the bridge.”
Boss nodded again, but you didn’t see it. Your practiced motions had picked up in speed, working quickly to pack up the equipment from the meeting and load it onto a small cart. He helped with the last few containers, but the process would have gone just as fast without his help. Maybe faster.
You were almost to the door when you turned back. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Boss,” he told you reflexively.
You grinned at that, and the sight of it made Boss’s heart stutter in his chest. “Great name. I’ll see you around, Boss.”
All things considered, that had gone better than Boss had expected.
From that point, he really did seem to see you more often. You were fixing comms channels, checking on issues with the droids in the mess hall, or working on the data terminals in the main sections of the ship. Every time he saw you, you were too busy for another conversation - even as short as the last one had been - but you always took a moment to smile and greet him by name.
If Boss had been half in love with you when he was watching you verbally eviscerate officers from a distance, he was fully gone now that you actually knew who he was. Any day was a little brighter when you were working nearby, and he found himself looking forward to meetings. There was always a chance that you would be responsible for the setup, especially if the required equipment was tricky or difficult.
The downside was, he suspected, the same as it had always been: that you were given shockingly little respect by the people you helped. Boss had personally witnessed troopers and natties alike complaining about the technology and blaming you specifically. He made a point of dressing them down when he witnessed it, but it seemed to be widespread.
“I can’t believe you found a nattie to moon over in the middle of hyperspace,” Fixer complained. At least, it was framed as a complaint, but Fixer’s tone was as close to camaraderie as Boss had ever heard it.
“You wanna keep your voice down, Fixer?” he asked, purposefully cutting the other man off as they walked into a meeting room. “You know how regs like to talk. The wrong thing overheard by the wrong person leads to-”
“An unhappy Three-Eight,” Fixer finished for him. “I’ll stow it, then. But you might see more of… your person of interest if Kenobi wasn’t obsessed with meetings.”
Boss snorted despite himself. None of the troopers were overly big fans of meetings - Jango’s genes made them men of action rather than words, and they didn’t get much from endless planning - but commandos seemed to have a particular loathing for them.
Of course, it could be that the 212th had simply gotten used to them after working with Kenobi for as long as they had.
Fortunately, this meeting was likely going to be shorter than previous ones had been. Kenobi and Cody were busy with a different meeting, so this would be attended by Delta Squad, a few officers from the 212th, and an ARC who had been attached to the battalion for their upcoming mission.
“What do we need the long-range holos for?” one of the officers asked as Delta Squad walked into the room.
Boss’s heart gave an exaggerated thud in his chest at the mention of equipment you might be responsible for, but it looked like this holoprojector had already been set up.
“The ARC, Aftermath,” another answered, blissfully unaware of Boss’s sudden interest in long-range technology. “He’s finishing another assignment right now, but he’ll meet up with us as soon as we drop out of hyperspace. He requested an early briefing.”
A sergeant who Boss vaguely recognized - his name was Heft, if Boss remembered correctly - was trying to turn on the holoprojector. The first click of the button did nothing and Heft scowled. The second, third, and fourth times didn’t have any more effect, and Heft’s expression grew darker with every failed attempt.
“This karkin’ thing is broken,” he concluded eventually.
The holoprojector looked fine, but Boss couldn’t argue that it didn’t seem to be performing its intended function.
“Maybe we should call the tech specialist,” one of the others suggested.
Heft snarled. “Yeah, call back the ‘specialist’ who couldn’t set it up right the first time. Great idea.”
Keeping a professional expression was a skill every trooper learned from a young age, but Boss suddenly found it more difficult than he had in a long time. The rest of Delta was throwing subtle glances his way, clearly trying to figure out if and how their sergeant would react.
The tricky part was that Boss couldn’t figure that out, either. Heft was a sergeant, too. Since there was no clear chain of command between the two of them, Boss had fewer options on how he could handle things.
After a few moments of internal debate, Boss decided it would be the most helpful if he took charge of the situation. He found your GAR-issued comm channel on the directory easily enough, putting on his helmet so he could make the call in a little peace… especially since Heft was still spewing insults.
You answered the call with your last name. No greeting, not even a first name. Boss blinked stupidly for a moment until he could shake himself. “Hey, it’s Boss. We’re in conference room 37 and the holoprojector isn’t working. Can you give us some ideas on how to fix it?”
“37?” you checked. “For the ARC briefing?”
“That’s the one.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes.”
And the line went dead. Boss pulled off his helmet. “Specialist is on the way. ETA two minutes.”
Heft grumbled while a lieutenant offered to comm Aftermath to let him know about the delay. Boss cleared his throat. “Who will be delivering the briefing to Aftermath? I’d like to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”
“Who doesn’t?” Heft demanded, delivering a solid slap to the projector. “If this osik was set up correctly, we’d already be done.”
“Do y’think he realizes what a shabuir he’s being?” Scorch asked, too quietly for anyone outside of Delta Squad to hear.
A single, perfunctory knock sounded through the room and then you were standing in the open doorway. Boss looked at you immediately, offering a subtle smile, but your attention had been captured by Heft. The other sergeant had stridden up to you, looming far too close.
“This is ridiculous,” Heft ranted. “This was supposed to be set up and completed hours ago. Now we’ve had to delay a briefing for an important mission, all so you could get back here to see if you can do your job on the second try.”
Boss bristled, but you were already studying the holoprojector - from across the room because Heft was blocking the way, but your eyes were roving over it determinedly. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. I tested it myself when I set it up. Has anyone messed with the settings since I left?”
“No,” Heft said frostily. “That’s your job.”
“Di’kut,” Sev muttered under his breath.
You eyed Heft, clearly unimpressed. “I can do my job a lot better if I can get a look at the projector. Do you mind letting me past?”
Rather than wait for him to let you through, you stepped around Heft, the edge of your shoulder brushing against his armor as you passed. You took quick stock of the holoprojector, studying it from every angle even as Heft took a breath in preparation for more complaining.
Heft’s face was red with anger and Boss’s fingers worked on his vambrace. Putting his helmet on would be too obvious, but his HUD could record even if it wasn’t currently sealed to the rest of his armor. With the helmet tucked beneath his arm and facing forward, Boss was sure he had a shot of you.
“Maybe I do mind,” Heft bit out. “I want an apology for you wasting our time. We have an ARC trooper in the field who is taking time away from his mission to be debriefed. He has been waiting five minutes past when we were supposed to start and I’m not going to be the one held responsible for that delay! I’m going to Kenobi with this, I can tell you that much.”
Because Boss was watching you so closely, he noticed exactly when your eyes stopped roving over the projector. You straightened, standing calm and proud, a stoic monument against the weight of Heft’s irrational irritation.
You pressed two buttons and the projector flickered on, a holographic image of an ARC trooper appearing in the next instant.
In the quiet of Heft’s sudden speechlessness, you stepped forward and faced the projector. “Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” Aftermath reported immediately.
You gave a satisfied nod and turned back toward the door - and, coincidentally, Heft. “It helps if you turn on the console.”
Boss wouldn’t have blamed you if you had gloated for another ten minutes. Heft would have deserved every second of it. But you left the room, letting the door quietly close behind you.
He wanted to go after you, burned with the need to make sure you were okay, but he couldn’t leave the briefing. Not without a good reason. Especially since Heft was starting to brief Aftermath on the upcoming mission.
Fixer tapped his vambrace, then jammed his helmet onto his head. A moment later, he pulled it off, glancing at Boss. “Important call for you, Three-Eight. Needs an immediate response.”
“Understood,” Boss acknowledged with a nod. There were times when Fixer could be the most devious vod… Boss glanced over at Heft, who was watching them curiously. “I assume you have it from here, Sergeant?”
“Of course, Sergeant,” Heft replied, using Boss’s rank just as pointedly as Boss had used Heft’s.
Boss ducked out of the room, spotting your retreating figure immediately. Following you was simple - you clearly weren’t in a hurry, and his brisk strides caught up to your meandering pace with ease.
“Hey-”
You turned to face him with an expression of frustration and disbelief that made him freeze. “It’s working now, I tested visuals and audio myself. What else could you need?”
Boss raised his hands, hating that you had thought he would follow you to continue Heft’s beration. “No, I- Everything is working fine. It always was - Heft is just an idiot. Are you okay?”
You let out a breath, and Boss could hear the hint of a tremble in it. He sent out a silent plea that you weren’t going to start crying. Your eyes were bright enough that he worried he was seeing tears, but he would give anything he owned to be wrong.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you confided, voice sharp. “It’s not enough for me to do my job - I have to constantly reassure everyone that I know what I’m doing. Basic tasks take me triple the time they should because I have to convince people I’m competent, which puts me behind schedule, then everyone else thinks I’m incompetent because I’m late! Everyone warned me that government contractor work was a bad idea, but this is ridiculous.”
To Boss’s utter relief, you didn’t sound sad. Upset, sure, but more angry than sad. The glint he had seen in your eyes was barely-suppressed rage. He could deal with that.
“Then don’t let me make you late to your next job,” he told you.
Your expression froze, taking on a shade of guilt. “Boss, I’m not- I’m just venting. None of this is directed at you-”
“I know that,” Boss reassured you. “But we can walk while you vent. Lead on.”
“I-” You started walking, Boss gamely keeping pace beside you. “I think I might be done, actually.”
“You sure?” Boss didn’t mean to sound so skeptical, but you still looked tense. “It’s good for you to bleed off the frustration. Better than keeping it all inside.”
“Yeah, I’m good.” You sighed, rubbing at your temple. “I’m just tired. Seems like everyone has a grudge against me. I’m good at my job and I know it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swim against the current.”
Boss gave a sympathetic hum. After a moment in which you didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Do you want to quit?”
“Yes.” You gave a little laugh, which had the interesting effect of restarting Boss’s heart immediately after it had stopped. “But that doesn’t mean I will.”
“I understand wanting to quit.”
You squinted at him. “Do you? I thought you were, like, engineered to be the perfect soldier. What else would you want to do, if not this?”
“I-” Boss hesitated. “It’s more theoretical than that for me. If I quit, it’s desertion.”
You scoffed, and Boss liked to think it was at the institution of the GAR rather than at his confession. Judging by the warmth in your expression, he was correct.
“Are you going to leave?”
The question came out softer than he had meant it to, leaving the conversation with a sudden feeling of intimacy. You shrugged. “I’ll decide after this mission. We’re in hyperspace - I can’t exactly step off the ship anytime I want. Besides, I’ll get hazard pay when we actually reach the war zone.”
“Lucky.” Boss’s pouting mutter made you laugh again. Wayii! He had just heard it for the first time few minutes before, but he already knew he would do anything to listen to you laugh.
“If it’s any consolation,” he added. “I recorded your conversation with Heft and I’m sending it to Commander Cody. None of the men should speak to anyone the way Heft spoke to you. I couldn’t interfere, or I wouldn’t have gotten a clear recording. I’m sorry for not giving Heft what he deserved. But since he’s a sergeant, too, it’ll be better for it to come from his commanding officer-”
“Boss, Boss,” you interrupted, lifting your hands up when he kept trying to explain. “I understand, and thank you. I don’t expect you to defend me against your brothers, though. That’s not a fair position to put you in.”
“You haven’t asked me to do anything,” Boss rejected. “I’m following up on this because it’s not right for you to be talked down to for doing your job.”
“Be careful, Boss,” you warned. The way your eyes sparkled, he knew it wasn’t a real warning, but he was still intrigued. “If you keep being so nice to me, I’m going to insist on buying you a decent meal when we’re back on Coruscant.”
Boss’s face went hot so quickly he wondered if they had wandered too close to the engine rooms. “You don’t have to do that.”
“And you don’t have to do this,” you told him, gesturing at his helmet. “You’re the only one on this ship who talks to me like I’m an actual person.”
“Sounds lonely.” Boss had experienced his share of dehumanizing experiences, both in the GAR and when they were in civilian surroundings, but he always had his brothers around. Without the rest of Delta Squad at his back, he wasn’t sure how well he would handle that kind of treatment.
“It is,” you agreed. “So I want to thank you. And I… I enjoy spending time with you.”
You looked so sweet, so sincere… Boss was losing himself in your eyes, but he wasn’t about to stop it from happening. “Name the time and place. I’m there.”
Your smile was just as breath-taking as every other time he had seen it. You gestured to the door that led to another set of conference rooms. “I have to go do some work for another long-distance comm this afternoon. But we could meet up later? We can debate about foods and restaurants, narrow down our options.”
“Sounds great,” Boss agreed, finally breaking into a smile of his own. He gestured toward your comlink. “I called you from my frequency earlier. You can always reach me there, just save it to your files.”
That smile turned undeniably to a grin as you ducked into the room. Just before the door closed between you, you winked. “I already did.”
Boss laughed to himself as he walked back toward conference room 37. With any luck, the briefing with Aftermath was already over. If not, at least he had something to look forward to.
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Author's Note - I'm pretty sure this is my first fic featuring Boss x reader and I'm really happy with how it turned out!
Reminder, this is a gender-neutral reader. But I'm also a woman who works in IT, so all of Heft's complaints were taken almost word-for-word from the stuff people have said to me. (Just in case you wanted some background!)
Thank you for reading and thank you to the anon who gave me this prompt! You can find other works on my masterlist here.
