Not Again! (this is getting out of hand)
A wagan crumb to all three of my wagan fans. Mwah mwah mwah (1.1k, rated E for everyone, enjoy some old man pining!)
GAR HQ Training Facilities 0900 Hours
To Walon Vau’s credit, not one of the troopers noticed his injury. Not when it happened, and not when he barked orders at them, and not even when he dismissed them and ushered them to the locker rooms to wash up.
Arligan Zey knew better because he felt the tendons and ligaments and muscles in Walon’s ankle scream in pain when he twisted it on the mat. The Mandalorian took it without so much as a grimace.
Vau re-emerged from the locker rooms, his strill worrying at his side. Mird noticed, too, in its own way.
“General,” Vau said, and kept walking. Discomfort bled into his presence in the Force.
“I came to you for some insight.” Zey walked alongside Vau since the man had no intention of stopping to speak with him. The Jedi hesitated, and tilted his head at him. “You hurt your ankle.”
“What insight are you looking for?” Vau asked.
“Walon, you should really—“
Vau turned to the general with a smile that reeked of contempt. “I know how to take care of a sprained ankle, General, thank you.”
Brow creased, Zey spread his hands. “Very well, Walon. I simply wanted your impression of Gravel Company, as I’ve had several notes passed my way for troopers that may need cross-trained. May I show you their files?”
“Later.”
“Yes, of course.” Zey did not let Vau walk out of range, still following him to the lift.
Vau’s annoyance, mired with pain, came and went before he put on a polite sense of tolerance for the Jedi’s presence.
“Was there something else, General?”
Zey, hands folded in the sleeves of his robes, caught Vau’s eye. They stood side by side facing the lift door, only a breath away from their shoulders touching, as Vau had to lean toward the Jedi on his good leg.
“You’re in a considerable amount of pain.”
Vau made a tch sound with his teeth. “It’s only a sprain.”
“You look pale.”
Now Vau shot him an icy look.
The lift doors opened and Vau stepped out. His gait was hitched as he was rendered unable to place weight on his right ankle without falling over. Mird followed, panting and wide-eyed.
“Walon, please. My office is right there. Allow me to have a look.”
Vau kept walking, now braced against the wall.
“Don’t you have more training sessions this afternoon?” Zey asked, keeping the slowed pace with him.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” Vau winced.
Zey walked past him and opened his office door. “You only have a few hours. Bacta won’t fix it by the next session.”
Before Vau could tell Zey to kindly kriff off, Mird—the traitor—bounded through the open office door. With one look around the hall as if to be sure no one was watching, Vau reluctantly crossed the hallway and went into Zey’s office.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Zey shut the door. The obvious spot was the couch with the caf table near the door, but Vau dragged himself to one of the chairs in front of Zey’s desk.
“Make it quick,” Vau said.
Zey lowered himself to the floor and gently cupped the heel of Walon’s boot in his hand. The extent of the injury up close hit him immediately.
“Walon, your ankle is broken,” Zey told him in an accusing manner.
“How astute of you. Call emergency services. Call CSF. Alert the media.”
Zey pursed his lips. Vau’s sarcasm only made him seem more miserable. For as much pain as Zey imagined the Mandalorian has suffered before, a broken bone is still nothing to scoff at.
“Nevermind, General, I’ll go to the infirmary.”
“How? On a stretcher? You’re not walking there, that will only make things worse.” Zey’s hand hovered over the swollen ankle. “At least let me set it.”
“No. I do not need your shab’la jetiise osik.”
Zey didn’t even blink at the mando’a flung at him. They both knew Vau would not make it to the infirmary without creating a spectacle of his stubbornness. “Walon, it will only take a moment.”
Vau glared down at the Jedi general. Mird whined. “Fine.”
Zey eased off the boot. There was no avoiding hurting Vau in the process. The man hissed with pain. Zey rolled up his pant leg and carefully situated Vau’s foot in his lap.
The ankle was swollen, dark red and purple, and hot to the touch. Zey hovered a large hand over the wound and shut his eyes.
Within moments, the swelling started to ease, and with it, the pain. Vau leaned on the armrest of the chair and covered his face in his hand. A strange, itchy sensation plagued his ankle deep beneath the surface of the skin. It was uncomfortable. Almost as uncomfortable as having his foot in Zey’s lap.
Suddenly, the immense pain in his ankle was replaced by a pleasant, cooling touch. The stark and the sudden relief caused Vau to make a small sound in the back of his throat.
He wished he hadn’t done that.
Zey was polite enough not to mention it. Vau ventured a look at him, seeing a bit of color in the Jedi general’s face.
He really, really wished he hadn’t done that.
“Are you finished?”
“One moment.” The cooling sensation faded and the itching returned until, finally, it all ceased. Zey closed his hands around Vau’s ankle before he could pull it away. Then he bowed his head.
Vau wished he did not have to see Arligan Zey on his knees in front of him.
“You’ll want to apply a bacta pack for at least two hours to ease the inflammation,” Zey said. He is not sure why he is giving Vau instructions. But he had to fill the silence, or else he’d keep sneaking peeks into the man’s mind. ”Keep it elevated. You should be all right for your training.”
Vau nodded. He should take back his boot and go. “Thank you, Arligan.”
Zey smiled. “You’re quite welcome.” Then he, strangely, put Vau’s boot back on for him.
The twisted pleasure of the Jedi General on his knees and reverently putting on his boot stirred something in Vau. And Zey, with Vau’s boot in his lap, could not ignore the attention on him. Guiltily, he wanted more.
They still had business to discuss. Zey peered up at Vau and knew he didn’t want him to stay only for business. Before he could allow the thought to attach to his consciousness, he got to his feet.
Vau stood, and so did Mird, and Zey walked them to the door. They both avoided looking at the couch. Then they paused. Vau could only imagine what Zey sensed in him over the past several minutes.
“Gravel Company,” said Vau. “You’ll send me the file?”
“Yes, Walon, on the encrypted channel.” The one that Vau technically should not have, but Zey cleared for him, for situations like this.
“I’ll watch for it.”
“Walon.”
Vau stopped, halfway out the door.
“Would you like some caf?”
Vau put a hand on the door frame and rolled his eyes, even as he turned back into the office. “Please.”
