Description: No longer soldiers, it's time for the Bad Batch to learn how to cook, and what better way to learn than to practice?
Notes: Written for the @pabudayszine back in the summer of 2024, I'm really happy with this piece.
Word count: 1 123
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“No, Batcher,” Omega laughed, hauling the giant lurca hound into her arms.
The hound’s hind legs dangled helplessly as she was awkwardly carried out of the kitchen by the eldest clone. Omega had just barely grown enough that Batcher’s paws weren’t dragging across the floor, but the hound was still much too big, and Omega much too small, to be carried like a baby.
As they left to find Batcher something to do, they passed Shep and Lyana bringing in fresh ingredients.
“Is this all you need?” Shep asked, setting the basket on the counter.
Hunter was quick to start sorting through it, holding out a large jar of coconut cream behind him that Stak snatched up and took over to his station with his brothers. Mox had also snuck over, grabbing the fish from Lyana’s basket and a small jar of salt.
“Can we start?” Stak asked once the last ingredients hit the table. “Our fish has to sit for an hour once we’re done.”
Crosshair clicked his tongue, looming over the younger clones to see the recipe Shep had written out for them. “We told you not to pick anything too long.”
“But it was so good when we had it the other day,” Deke reasoned, earning an eye roll from Crosshair.
“Go ahead.”
“Yes!” The younger clones cheered, turning to start on their vegetables.
The members of the Bad Batch watched quietly as Stak washed the vegetables and handed them off to his brothers for slicing. Shep noticed the way Deke was struggling to cut the tomato, not sure how to stabilize it, so he offered help. All six boys watched as he carefully cut it in half to lay it flat, then curled his fingers so he didn’t slice them off as he diced the tomato. He did one half, then guided Deke through the other, before stepping back to let him try the next one.
Mox, after watching how Shep cut the tomato, started working on the first onion.
“You have to peel it first,” Lyana piped up, coming to stand on the other side of their table.
She picked up the second onion and scraped her nails along it a few times to break the flaky skin and peel it away.
Just as Mox was about to peel his own onion, the door slammed shut loudly. Everyone whipped around, falling into old habits; Mox picked his knife back up, and Deke shifted his grip to a more combat ready one. Hunter had reached for the only knife on their kitchen counter, and Wrecker reached for a nearby chair from the dining table that they’d pushed against a wall to make space.
Omega was braced against the door, breathing heavily. She looked up, seemingly calm, if not out of breath. Certainly not distressed.
“Batcher was chasing me,” she explained with a tired exhale, straightening, and brushing her hair from her face. “Sorry.”
There was a collective sigh of relief from the other clones. Now Batcher-free,Omega went to check out what everyone was up to.
“Not cooking with them?” Lyana asked when Omega came up beside her to watch the youngest clones cut vegetables.
They were a little mangled, and there was nothing uniform about them, but Omega grabbed a few pieces to share with Lyana. The girls agreed that they tasted fine.
“Nah, I’m the judge! We had to keep the teams even.”
“Wrecker, less water! Less water!” Crosshair scolded. “Ugh, that’s way too much.”
“Well I’m sorry. It didn’t say how much to add!”
“Because you’re supposed to test it as you go.”
“It’s fine, Crosshair, we’ll just improvise,” Hunter interjected, stepping in before things could escalate. “We’re good at that. Shep?” The island elder turned at Hunter’s call, tilting his head to ask, Yes? Hunter clarified, “We can just add more flour to fix it, right?”
The three observers joined the Batchers and peered down at their efforts – in a bowl with flour and too much water. Shep seemed to be considering it very seriously before he nodded.
“It might not puff up the same, but you can definitely make it work.”
“This time, I’m adding it.”
Crosshair grabbed the scoop from the jar of flour and carefully added a bit in, then let Wrecker mix everything together. When the dough still looked a bit too wet they added a little more before Wrecker tested it once more.
After double checking with Shep, they dumped it onto the counter-
“Isn’t it going to stick?” Omega asked.
“Blast.”
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch Scratch. Thump.
Crosshair quickly began scraping the knife under the dough, grimacing as pieces were left stuck to the counter, while Shep and Lyana laughed. Omega grabbed the flour scoop and tried to sprinkle some under the place Crosshair had lifted, while Hunter tried lifting it from the other side. They only succeeded in folding it over itself, which was not something they needed to do.
The other table had stopped what they were doing, which at this point was just combining ingredients, to laugh.
When they finally got the dough to stop sticking to everything, they cut it into smaller pieces, then they fried it. Which is where Omega finally stepped in to help – with help from Lyana – while the boys cleaned everything up.
Testing a piece, Omega quickly discovered the degree of their success.
“Hot! Hot!” Omega’s muffled cries startled everyone again. She took a few quick and shallow breaths while fanning her hand in front of her mouth.
Lyana laughed. “Of course it’s hot, I told you to let it cool.”
She finished frying up the last of the dough while Omega tried to eat her scalding mouthful and nurse her burnt tongue. Then Lyana set the plate on the table with a stern warning that it was hot, pointedly looking at Omega which made everyone else laugh.
They would definitely have to make more fried bread before the fish was done, but for now they would just enjoy the fruits of their labor.
“Batcher, get your paws off the table!”
The lurca hound’s tongue was hanging out as she tried to steal one of the pieces of fried bread. She must have snuck in during the commotion Omega had caused by burning her tongue, and now she was making eye contact as she continued to reach for the food.
“Noo,” Hunter warned, “Batcher.”
“Paws, off, the table,” Omega reminded, waiting for Batcher to correct herself.
She didn’t, instead only freezing briefly before inching ever closer to the plate and an overhanging piece of food.
“Alright, that’s enough.”
Crosshair pulled the hound from the table, leading her into a corner where he set down a plate of fish scraps.
“That’s your food.”
If anything could be worse than seeing Omega tumbling down a flight of stairs, Shep realises it's seeing her pick herself up and act like getting hurt that badly is just a normal part of childhood.
According to Omega, injuries are only serious if you break a bone or get hit by a stray blaster bolt.
Tags: Omega & Shep Hazard, POV Shep, so outsider POV on the Horrors the batch don't even consider to be Horrors, Angst, Hurt Comfort, (Not that Omega thinks she needs comforting)
As the warm sun shone down on him, Shep took a sip of his drink and smiled, listening to the cawing of the seabirds and the delighted screeches of the girls on the level below him. He tilted his head downwards, away from the clouds slowly turning pink with the setting of the sun, and looked towards his daughter and her new friend.
He could see Lyana frantically trying to catch Omega in their game of tag. This wasn’t an easy task. The girl twisted and dodged with ease as she laughed freely, jumping up and over obstacles that any other child would have chosen to go around.
Unfortunately for his daughter, it would seem that Omega was clearly the better tag player, despite her saying she’d only heard of the game when she’d arrived here, a fact that Shep found hard to imagine. Surely, it must have been the name she’d been unfamiliar with, all places had to have a game like this, didn’t they? In any case, the fact she was so good at this game seemed to suggest this.
Eventually, Omega slowed and Lyana caught her, her triumphant yell of “tag!” carried clear over the gentle breeze. From his vantage point, it was obvious that Omega had let herself be caught, which was nice of her, Shep thought. Not many children her age would lose at something deliberately in order to keep their friends happy.
As he watched the girl chase after his daughter, clearly drawing this out for Lyana’s benefit (she could have got her within the first few seconds, he knew), he let himself wonder about her. For all she was bubbly and kind, she was also undeniably strange. Saying that she’d never heard of a simple childhood game was just the start of it. She was overjoyed by the simplest of things like a child far younger than her would be, in a way that he didn’t think could only be explained by just living on a different world, but the way she stared at things as she tried to understand them, serious and determined, felt like he was looking at someone far older than her twelve years.
Although he didn’t know where Omega and her brothers had come from, and Phee wouldn’t tell him more than the barest of details, he knew for a fact that it couldn’t have been good. It was obvious from Hunter’s wariness and suspicion, and the fact that their first meal with him was the first time Wrecker had ever felt full. He dreaded to think about the environment they must have grown up in, where common childhood games weren’t played, safety was rare and there was never enough food. But he hoped they stayed, hoped they found a home as so many other people escaping from terrible situations had done on Pabu.
As he took another sip of his drink, he watched Omega dart around Lyana’s outstretched hand, spinning around at the top of the stairs, felt his heart jump in his throat as he watched one of her feet catch under the other, sending her flying backwards and tumbling roughly down the stone steps.
A shrill scream rent the air and he was moving before he’d even realised it, racing towards her.
Ice flooded his veins as Omega came to a stop at the bottom, not moving for several eternal moments. As he passed Lyana, and realised that it was her who was screaming, not Omega, he watched Omega shake her head then scramble to her feet. He found himself freezing halfway down the steps towards her as she let out an embarrassed grin and waved up at them both.
“Are you okay?” Lyana demanded, voicing the question that had been on the tip of his tongue but had been too shocked to ask.
“Don’t worry. I’m fine!” Omega answered, giving her a beaming smile. She went to step forward onto her left foot, but then winced slightly as she put weight on it. Still, after a moment’s hesitation she limped forwards, clearly about to try coming back up the steps.
“Stay there!” Shep ordered, finally finding his voice again as he hurried downwards. She scrunched her face up into a frown, but obeyed.
When he reached her he resisted the urge to pick her up as he would have done Lyana, she wasn’t his child and barely knew him. Instead, he offered her his arm. “Lean on this and come sit down on the steps, let me look at your ankle.”
“Uh, okay.” The hesitation in her voice was clear, but she did as he asked all the same.
Shep took a good look at her as she perched on the second to last step, clearly unsure about what he was doing. There was a dark red patch on her cheek where her head must have hit the stone and he could see scrapes of blood on her knee through a tear in the material.
“Can you tell me where you’re hurt?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice calm, despite how his heart still felt like it was hammering in his chest as the adrenaline faded from his system.
“Sure,” she said, voice unperturbed. “I hit my head here on the way down, but I don’t think it’s serious. I guess we’ll know if I’ve got concussion in a bit. I think I scraped my arm…” she twisted her left arm up to look at it and suddenly Shep could see the long, painful-looking graze down her forearm. “It looks like I cut my knee, and I twisted my ankle a little bit.”
She stared back at him with an awkward half-smile, still completely calm. Shep found himself having to take a moment to process this. If Lyana had been injured like this, she’d probably have been sobbing into his arms. Even if her injuries hadn’t been severe, the shock from the fall would have been enough. And yet here was Omega, acting as if this was business as usual.
He really, really hoped it wasn’t.
“Thank you for telling me,” Shep said. “Lyana, can you go get the first aid kit please?” He watched with relief as she nodded and ran off. When he looked back at Omega she was frowning again.
“But I’m fine, I don’t need a first aid kit.”
“Omega,” he said slowly. “You’re limping.”
“Yeah, but not badly ,” she argued. “I can still play tag!”
He sighed internally. “Would you mind if I take a look at your ankle?”
She shrugged, starting to take off her boot and sock. “Sure, but it’s only a little twisted. You don’t need a first aid kit.”
He grimaced as he gently took hold of her foot, before telling her to let him know if anything hurt particularly badly as he moved it gently and pressed on certain points. As the seconds passed, he found himself working up the courage to ask something he knew he needed to, but had an answer he probably wouldn’t want to know.
“Do you get injured like this a lot then?”
As awful as the thought was, it really was the only explanation.
“All the time on missions with the others.”
He grit his teeth at her relaxed response. That was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to hear.
“And what do these missions involve exactly?”
“Well…” she paused. “I’m not really meant to give details, but we have to run away from people a lot, so we end up falling down loads, and if we don’t get up quickly, well then obviously they’ll try and kill us.”
“Obviously,” he echoed, eyes unseeing. Then and there making a promise to himself that he would do every possible thing in his power to convince Omega and her family that they should stay on Pabu. Preferably forever.
He sighed, before speaking again. “I know that, if you’re getting hurt this seriously a lot, then you might not see a need for a first aid kit. But I’d feel happier, and I’m sure your brothers would feel happier too, if we scanned your head and put some bacta on your ankle, and rested it a little to allow it to heal before you start running around again.”
“But these injuries aren’t serious. Breaking bones, passing out, or getting shot is serious.” Omega told him.
Shep found himself leaping to his feet, pacing back and forth as he counted in his head, suddenly extremely glad that Lyana was away fetching the first-aid kit now, that she hadn’t had to hear that too. What the kriff had Omega been through?
“And have those things ever happened to you?” he finally managed to ask, looking down at Omega staring back at him, eyes full of confusion.
“Of course. Although, not very often,” she said as the blood rang in his ears. “My brothers do a good job of protecting me.”
He licked his lips, struggling for words. “I’m… I’m glad to hear that.”
Thankfully, it was at this point Lyana ran down the stairs with the first aid kit, breaking the horrifying images circling through his mind, drawing him back to the present.
How he managed to make it through those next few minutes, dressing Omega’s ankle in bacta-infused bandages, he didn’t know. But he managed it all the same. Omega watched him without complaint, despite her obvious bewilderment, only speaking up when he gave her a pot of bacta to put on the grazes on her arm and knee, and any other bruises she might have.
“I don’t need it,” she told him. “Bacta costs a lot of credits, and you can’t waste it on smaller injuries like this, not when you might need it for more important things.”
He sighed, drumming his fingers along the outside of the pot. “We’ve got a lot of bacta here, and enough credits to get more. Please just use it, Omega, to make me happy.”
She grimaced, but complied, using only the barest amount on her arm and knee. Still, it was better than nothing, and helped calm the angry ranting of his heart.
Omega hadn’t been safe, none of her family had been. Still, he told himself, here on Pabu things would be different for them. They would be safe here. He would make sure of it.
With Shep being injured, Hunter has a lot on his plate. After a heart to heart with both Phee and Shep, will he actually ask for help, or will he burn himself out? And will he be convinced to go to All Night?
Read on Ao3
Sorry for another Hunter POV chapter. This will go back to being a Wrecker-centric fanfic next chapter.
Background: The Batch returns to Pabu with Crosshair in tow. How will he adapt? What will life look like for the other Batchers as they settle into civilian life?
The reader (main character) from Cup Of Caf is mentioned. This story is from the point of view of The Batch and Crosshair.
My OC Maadienne "Mad Momma" Dax makes an appearance as Hunter's love interest. Since this story takes place in an alternate universe from "Vagabonds", Love, Sil, and Tiggy do not make an appearance.
(I started this fic BEFORE S3, so Tech lives, Crosshair still has his hand, Pabu was never attacked...and, sorry, no Batcher.)
Word Count: 1.5K
Warning: None. Angst, sadness, fluff, some alcohol use, babies. Affection and types of romantic relationships other than Cishet.
Lovely dividers by the talented @saradika
The next morning Crosshair was gone, his bed empty. Hunter, terrified of losing Cross again, was about to track him down. Echo intervened.
“He’ll come back. Just needs time to sort out his thoughts...alone.”
Hunter nodded and proceeded to Omega’s room. She was gone. He had forgotten she slept over at Lyana’s house. Wrecker spent the night with Shep.
Mad emerged from their bedroom dressed and planted a kiss on Hunter’s cheek.
“Bye Hunky.”
Hunter mildly panicked “Wait. Where are you going?”
“Phee and I are spending the day doing ‘Woman Stuff’. Probably don’t remember, you seemed pretty drunk last night.”
She stopped, looked at Echo then Hunter. “What’s the matter? Lookin’ sad there Handsome.”
“Oh...uh...nothing.”
“He’s sad because his squad up and left him.”
“Now Echo...”
“It’s strange not being totally in charge, huh? Gives you lots of time to do other things?”
Hunter was silent, still sulking.
Mad’s heart went out to him. “You want me to stay home with you today?”
Hunter gave her puppy dog eyes.
“Use your words, Hunky. What’s your head say versus you heart?”
Hunter scowled. “Both say words are hard.”
Echo chuckled. “Run away Mad, I’ve got him. Go have fun with Phee.”
Mad smiled, hugged Hunter who took in her scent, and squeezed back.
“You can’t ever leave Echo. This man needs you as an emotional interpreter.”
She kissed Hunter then pecked Echo on the cheek before dashing out the door. “THANKS!”
Both stood there red-faced grinning.
“I LOVE that woman.” Hunter beamed.
Echo clapped Hunter on the back. “C’mon, let’s go sneak Tech some caf at the Med Ward.”
And so, the weeks passed by with Crosshair disappearing all morning, finally returning by afternoon. No idea where he went. The Batch didn’t ask at first. Omega had theories, which she shared with her brothers, Mad and Phee.
Then the rumors started around the island: The local potter, usually rather withdrawn, was making the rounds around the island. Purchasing food for “The Grumpy Man.” Rumors were confirmed as the skinny bald sniper started filling out. His skin and hair becoming healthy and lustrous.
Omega set out to start learning how to cook, roping Wrecker in as her sidekick. They packed up meals for Crosshair, insisting he share the food with his new friend. At first, he scoffed, then relented. Eventually Cross slowly started inserting himself into the evening cooking sessions in The Batcher House.
Crosshair would imbibe in drink and eventually loosen up...for his standards. Sharing small bits and pieces of his experiences while away from the Batch. But nothing TOO deep. Cross was always content to watch the antics of his very happy family.
Wrecker and Shep would bring in the catch of the day. Then sit and drink, sharing loving touches and sweet glances at one another. They announced their engagement and planned to wed soon. The whole island was invited to the ceremony and reception. They coordinated with Echo on refreshments and Wrecker planned the menu, wanting to cook for his own wedding reception...with Omega’s help, of course.
Echo, in charge of refreshments, would open a bottle of Spotchka or throw together a Fuzzy Bantha or some other cocktail. Tech had built Echo a mechanical hand that could be switched out with his scomp. From that point on, Echo was the official Batcher Bartender. It wasn’t just throwing together a drink, it was a SHOW! He tossed bottles in the air, catching them, pouring with finesse, lighting the brightly colored alcohol on fire (for Wrecker especially), adding exotic ingredients that Tech helped suggest for certain palates, some of which Phee brought back from her travels.
On the crazier nights, Echo would toss bottles and Wrecker cooking implements in unison while Mad and Phee sang and Shep hammered percussion on the wooden table with his large hands. Hunter would get up from the table to dance, dragging Crosshair with him. The competition was fierce as both men had an intense “Dance Off” to one up each other.
Tech was learning the fine art of highbrow humor, especially after one (or several) of Echo’s cocktails. He and Phee would have constant banter at the table. They were hysterically funny when Tech reached the confused slurry speech stage. Phee enjoyed playfully teasing him while he rambled on, index finger raised...then trailing off as he had lost his train of thought. She’d gently slip her hand into his raised one and caress it. Tech would blush red(der) and smile.
Hunter and Mad sat leaning against each other, shoulder to thigh. Basking in love, occasionally whispering something into each other’s ear. Things that brought their own blush and smile. They shared a secret...eventually requesting Echo make her drinks sans alcohol. Hunter instructed Echo to add Mad’s to his drink, making it a double. By the end of the night Tech and Hunter would carry on a drunken conversation that NOBODY understood except the two of them. Everyone would get hugs though. Even Tech would embrace the guests before everyone left...as Phee eventually escorted him to the sofa. Hunter never made it that far, choosing the comfort of the floor. Wrecker tucked Lula under his head, before leaving to spend the night at Shep’s place.
Echo would help Mad and Phee clean up, then hug Omega goodnight. He would awaken early like clockwork the next morning, brewing caf in the kitchen. Echo and Crosshair would nod to each other, as Echo slid the packaged food across the kitchen island to him. Then smile as Cross quietly left the house. Afterwards Echo nudged Tech and Hunter awake to start the day.
Dinner came and went. The Batchers kept their drinking to a minimum tonight. Everyone just wanted a quiet evening. Hunter and Tech wanted to sleep in an actual bed again. Mad and Phee WANTED THEM to sleep in an actual bed again.
Besides, Hunter and Mad had an announcement to make: Mad was expecting. While everyone was beyond happy and joyful, it was no surprise. A definite event to celebrate. Wrecker brought a cake to the table and Hunter handed Mad his vibroknife to cut it.
“Uh...we don’t have something maybe...CLEANER to use?”
“Made sure to wipe it down properly.”
“Let me guess...this has some kind of significance, yeah?” Mad cocked an eye at Hunter.
“Well, I WILL be using this knife...MY knife to cut our child’s umbilical cord.”
“WHAT???” Mad frantically searching Hunters stone cold expression for any trace of total BS.
“I’ll wipe the blade down properly beforehand. Especially if it’s a C-section.”
“HUNTER, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMNED MIND???”
Hunter’s face was dead serious...until everyone at the table burst out laughing. Then he winked at Mad.
"Kriff! Thought the booze pickled your brain!!!”
Hunter gently took the knife from Mad, flipped it back and forth expertly one handed and slid it back into its sheath. Suddenly, he knelt down beside her on one knee. The laughter in the room died down to total silence. Mad could see from everyone’s face this was spontaneous and unexpected.
“Mad” Hunter took both of her hands in his.
He cleared his throat. Hunter’s expression was mixed: Intensely passionate but nervous. He was out of his element and not used to doing this sort of thing in front of others.
“Ah...As you know, I’m not the kind of guy whose all about grand public gestures...but I was struck in the moment to tell you...in front of the most important group of people in my life to the most important individual who is carrying my child...that I LOVE YOU intensely with my VERY BEING.”
Mad slightly cocked her head and gave him her veiled sassy “No duh, Hunky” expression. Hunter almost broke out in nervous laughter but caught himself. Clearing his throat again, he leaned in slightly. Mad got serious and mirrored this gesture. They were close enough to intensely look into each other's eyes and focus on one another. The rest of the room seemed to fall away into the distant background and disappear. Just two people declaring to each other their deepest desires.
Hunter continued. “I know we didn’t plan for this to happen.” He lovingly stroked her belly. Mad squeezed his hand. “I also know we didn’t plan to be formally married...and I don’t expect that. Heck...” He looked slightly embarrassed letting it all hang out. “I don’t have a ring...or technically own ANYTHING...I’m...poor. But I have a life to give and I want to give it to you. I’ll be the most devoted father to this baby and the most devoted partner to you.”
“I know the Nomaadi don’t stay in one place too long. And...if you’ll have me...If you want me...I’ll go anywhere and everywhere you want to go. I want both of us to be together for whatever amount of time we have left in this life.”
Silence.
Then Mad spoke. “Hunter...” Her voice caught a hitch and she inhaled sharply. She was touched deeply by this gesture of vulnerability and commitment. The baby, barely formed yet, fluttered sharply inside her belly...the first time she ever felt its presence. Everything seemed so REAL suddenly, not just the concept of being pregnant...
