cloneshipping7567

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 18

Part 18/30

18. "We have just met and yet it feels like I have known you for a lifetime."

Pairing: Thorn x Fox

Rating/WC: T/2082

Warnings: None <3

Notes: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out! I really really struggled with this prompt, but I hope I did it justice!

~~~

Fox rubs at the spot on his forehead just above his brow, trying to soothe the oncoming headache. He’s been awake too long, a couple rotations at least, and his caf is starting to have less of a useful effect on him. He sips at his now cold drink anyway, choking it down without wincing. 

His new commander should be here sometime soon, fresh out of ARC training, and he’ll take a good chunk of Fox’s responsibilities off his plate. He and his commanders are already stretched way too thin. 

“Sir?” greets him from the doorway to his office, and Fox looks up from his datapad to see Stone. “Did you stay here all night?”

Fox grumbles and looks back down to his report, sipping his caf again. “I’m almost done with these reports.”

“We’re going to have to sit through another lecture from Patchup about the use of stims, sir,” Stone says with a tired tone, crossing his arms over his chest. “Again.”

Fox makes an affronted noise. “I haven’t used any stims, thank you very much.” He downs the rest of his cold caf, curling his lip in disgust and putting his mug back down. “I’ve been banned for life, Patchup thinks my heart will give out.”

“You just chugged half a cup of caf right in front of me,” Stone says, unimpressed. 

“That isn’t a stim, though, is it?” Fox asks, looking up from his report to shoot Stone a grimace. It’s as close to a smile as Fox has gotten in a very long time, it feels like. Maybe since they left Kamino. 

“It’s adjacent,” Stone argues, but doesn’t bother pushing it. “You need sleep. When was the last time you took a break?”

“What day is it?” he only half jokes, looking back to his report and swiping to the next page. He does not need to be reading this; a shiny could understand this banthashit and forge his signature, surely. “I took a nap at my desk a while ago, I’m fine.”

“I can’t wait for your new XO to get here, he’ll force you to actually delegate.” Stone steps into the room, uninvited, and sits at one of the chairs in front of Fox’s desk. “You can share some of the work, you know.”

“Then we’ll all be here late,” Fox mumbles, skipping to the bottom and sighing in relief when he realizes he only has a few paragraphs left. He finds where he left off and keeps reading. “Everyone is already overworked as it is.”

“You’re completely ridiculous,” Stone says, and Fox glares at him. “Sir,” he adds, as if that will make the statement less court-marshall worthy. “If you gave me even a couple extra tasks, you’d be able to take a night off. Do you even remember what the barracks look like? The boys miss your pretty face.”

Fox rolls his eyes, looking back down at his report and skimming the last few paragraphs to make sure it’s still very unimportant. He submits it and clicks on the next one-the last one, thankfully. “I do give you extra tasks, just not enough that we would both be here half the night. And I don’t sleep in the barracks anyway.”

“Ah, yes, my mistake Mr. Marshall-Commander, you’re above us grunts. Forgot.”

Fox makes a disgusted noise, looking up at Stone and throwing his datapad down. “Stone.”

Stone has the decency to actually look regretful, raising his hands in surrender. “Fine, too far. You could visit, every now and then, you know. Be good for morale.”

Fox works his jaw, going back to his last report. If Stone weren’t here, he might be done already, and he might be napping in his chair by now. Maybe, probably. “No it wouldn’t. They go all quiet when I’m around and it’s awkward.”

Stone shifts, wanting to deny it badly. “They just respect you, is all.”

“They’re scared I’ll bite,” Fox argues, baring his teeth in a mock of a smile just to demonstrate. “I piss people off, that’s my whole personality.”

“No,” Stone argues immediately, shooting Fox a real smile. He leans back in his chair and puts his boots on the desk- the heathen -and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ve never managed to piss me off, and I’m very easy to piss off.”

“I don’t try to piss people off, I just always seem to.” Fox says, and then makes a face. “Well, the men anyway. My life’s purpose is to annoy Cody and Wolffe as much as humanly possible.”

Stone snorts at that, cocking his head to the side. “They’re funny when you piss them off, though. They’re so patient with literally everyone else, but you simply breathe and they start to get pissy.”

Fox hums, scrolling on the report and mostly skimming. “Batchmates are just different, I guess. Easier to annoy, I know all their buttons.”

“I’ve heard natborns say that’s what having siblings is like,” Stone adds, brows furrowed in thought. “My batchmates were the same way, I guess.”

Fox tenses his shoulders, all amusement leaving his body at once. This is potentially his very least favorite topic, either tied with or just behind discussing his own emotions and feelings with anyone. “Anyway, they’re uncomfortable when I’m around. Cody and Wolffe say their troopers are the same way, unless it’s their personal squad. Like you,” Fox says, nodding at Stone’s boots. “You’re obviously comfortable around me.”

Stone rolls his eyes but puts his feet back on the floor, leaning his elbows on the desk instead. “Very. The Big Bad Fox isn’t really all that intimidating, if you get to know him.”

“Don’t you have your own work to do?” Fox bites, rolling his shoulders. His tone is harsher than it had been, even if Stone knows him well enough to know it’s still mostly playful. “Because I have a few suggestions on what you could do instead of-”

“Commander Fox?” comes from his doorway, and Fox’s head snaps to the newcomer. He’s in full kit, including his kama but missing his pauldron. Understandable; a lot of clones find it more annoying and distracting than anything, himself included. “Am I interrupting?”

Stone stumbles to his feet and stands at attention, arms stiff at his sides. Fox has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the caught expression on his face. This newcomer technically doesn’t outrank Stone; he may be Fox’s new XO, but they would both be commanders. Fox is the only clone in Red who would outrank either of them. 

“No,” Fox answers, standing up himself slowly and placing his datapad down. “Commander Stone was just leaving. Right, Commander?”

“Yes, sir,” Stone says, turning to face Fox with a click of his heels. His hand comes up to salute Fox, but the face he gives Fox is nothing short of unprofessional. He slides his helmet on and turns, nodding to the newcomer before leaving the office. 

The new commander lets him pass, and then enters the office and shuts the door behind him. He stands at a parade rest, arms crossed behind his back at the wrists. “Commander Fox, I’ve been sent to report to you. I’ll be serving with the Guard under your command for the rest of the war.”

Fox nods, wishing he had his own helmet on right now. It’s always served as a shield for him, one which is far more necessary when dealing with the senate than on the battlefield. It would be rude, though, and might be seen as dismissive. “I was told I would be getting a new commander soon. What’s your name? Do you have one yet?”

The new commander pulls his helmet off, and Fox has to fight to not gasp. He’s gorgeous. He’s grown his hair out long, and the curls reach just below his chin. He’s either died them or he’s like Captain Rex with a mutation, but they’re blond and they look soft. His eyes are bright and full of life, curious maybe. The way he sets his jaw is different from the rest of them, and he holds himself more confidently than the average clone. 

He’s simply gorgeous, and it’s incredibly distracting. 

“Thorn,” he answers, a small smile growing on his lips. He tucks his helmet under his arm, and cocks his head to the side. “They didn’t tell you?”

Fox swallows thickly and tries to collect himself before he does something embarrassing. Like drool. He clears his throat, looking down at his reports before making eye contact again. “Might have, it’s um. I’ve looked at a lot of reports in the last few rotations.” He doesn’t mention that he hasn’t slept in that time, nor has he been taking note of anything less important than an assignment that requires decisions from him. 

“Hm,” Thorn says, his smile growing and amusement coloring his tone. “Heavy workload, then?”

“I wouldn’t- it- yeah. Sure.” Fox looks away, internally cursing himself for his decision not to sleep. He couldn’t make this more awkward if he tried. “Lots of paperwork. It won’t be so bad with another commander to help.”

“Oh good, I love paperwork,” Thorn snarks, making Fox look back up at him. “I sure am glad I went through all that ARC training to do desk work.”

Fox rolls his eyes, forgetting his decorum for a moment. Usually it takes someone like Cody or Stone to make him forget himself like this, to make him feel comfortable enough to be human. Must be the sleep deprivation. “Welcome to the Guard, where the action is limited and the paperwork is infinite.”

“You should have been a salesman,” Thorn says, cocking his hip out and resting his helmet on it. “All that charm is going to waste here.”

“You’ll get it soon,” Fox says, trying not to bristle. He doesn’t know this clone, especially not well enough to be this sarcastic yet. “You’ll love the monotony and predictability of the job, it definitely doesn’t suck the life out of you.”

“Aw, come on, it can’t be that bad. I’ve heard some horror stories being spread around the GAR. Handsy senators, riotous prisoners, the whole nine yards.” Thorn smiles, really smiles, and Fox cannot breathe for a second. “I’m sure I’ll love it here.”

Fox feels a smile start to grow on his own face; a combination of seeing Thorn’s beautiful smile and the amusement from this conversation. He feels his shoulders relax, his whole body relax for the first time in a very long time. Thorn’s eyes widen fractionally, and his smile grows to show off his teeth. “I hope you will,” he adds after a pause just a bit too long. He’s pretty sure it’s obvious how infatuated he is. 

Thorn’s eyes flit between Fox’s, and his smile melts into something more fond. “I know I will, if you’re here with me.” 

Fox’s eyes widen and he swallows thickly. Shit. He’s never been flirted with, he doesn’t really know how to do this. But he really wants Thorn to keep doing it. “It’s good to- I’m glad you’re, uh,” Fox winces, wishing his brain was actually working right now instead of whatever it’s doing in this sleep-deprived haze. “I’m glad you’re here with me-too.”

Thorn laughs, eyes bright, and Fox actually gasps quietly at the sound. “We have just met, and yet it feels like I have known you a lifetime,” Thorn says, his smile dazzling. 

Fox swallows, feeling like his heart might beat out of his chest. “I- I feel the exact same way.” And he doesn’t have the words to describe why that means so much, why this is so absurd for Fox. 

Thorn smiles again, moving his helmet from under one arm to the other. “I’ve never been to Coruscant before, are there any good places to eat? It’s almost lunch time.”

Fox huffs a laugh, looking down at his datapad and thinking. He quickly sends the last report to Stone and turns it off, before looking up again. “I do, actually. Can I take you to one?”

“What a wonderful idea,” Thorn agrees, slipping his helmet back on before opening the door. “I can show you my quarters too, so I can change into civvies.”

Fox swallows thickly, putting his own helmet on. He definitely wants to see the inside of Thorn’s quarters. Maybe after lunch, though. “Lead the way, then,” he says, and ignores the glare Stone sends him from his own desk.

#cloneshipping #thorn x fox #my writing #fanfic

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic/soft prompts:

Sickfic prompts

'Affectionate gestures that have me going feral' prompts

Cuddling prompts

'Adorable things couples do that have me feeling single af' prompts

Sweet caring prompts

Sickfic prompts 2

"I've had a really rough day and I need you to make it better" otp soft prompts

Cute smile prompts

Fluff prompts

"You're so cute when you…" prompts

Lazy morning prompts

Late night prompts

Embarrassing first meet prompts

Domestic fluff prompts

Kisses prompts:

Kissing prompts

First kiss prompts

[cloneshipping7567]

#cloneshipping

[cloneshipping7567]

List of “angry confession” prompts

“Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever, you idiotic dunce!” 

“I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?” “I mean, I’m fine so it’s okay—” “No, it’s not okay. Not when I feel like I’m going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you’ve hurt yourself.“

“Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.” “You… What?” 

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?” 

“Trust me, I’m also trying to understand how in the shit this happened.” 

“…This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you.”

“I’m going to need you to stop for one second because I just find it so incredibly rude that you think I’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass. Are you a brick? Because you’re dense as fuck.”

“Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.” 

“Yeah, well, If I could, I’d lose feelings for you. But it’s not that easy. It’s not that easy to just let go of someone you’ve held onto for so fucking long.” 

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” 

#oh #interesting

[cloneshipping7567]

Bunks of the GAR! Rex visiting Cody 🥰 The Marshall Commander does not doodle on his walls… but someone left behind their teacup!

Some feels:

Shortly after this, Rex falls asleep and Obi-Wan stops by Cody’s quarters to grab a report/ drop off a data pad. Cody is just kind of trapped there with Rex but he hand signals with Obi-wan to direct him to wherever to put/grab the report and Rex sleeps through their exchange because he is just SO RELAXED and safe and comfortable and I will be launching myself into the sun now T_T

[Image ID: a digital illustration of Cody and Rex lying down in Cody’s bunk. Rex is on his stomach with Cody on his side behind him, his arms and one leg wrapped around Rex. On the floor in front of them is a simple teacup and a datapad. End ID]

Crop under the cut!

#🥺🥰

[cloneshipping7567]

Oh you know, just these dorks again. Beware of buns under the cut! 🍑

#echofives

[cloneshipping7567]

I love characters who act selfishly to protect the people they love. Absolutely will 1000% hit that trope like a line of coke. I have no moral qualms about this.

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 17

Part 17/30

17. "For years I have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence."

Pairing: Dogma x Tup

Rating/WC: G/4545

Warnings: internalized ableism, experienced ableism, mild self-hatred, angst, angst with a happy ending.

Notes: This is a request made by LuminousBug on ao3. The request was for autistic Dogma saying this line. While I have written autistic characters before, I have never written a story from the POV of an autistic person. For this first time, I chose to use what my sister describes as her personal experience, and go from there.

LuminousBug, I hope you like this one!

~~~

Tup has nightmares about it. He tosses and turns, and sometimes he wakes up with a jolt, as if he were physically dragged out of sleep somehow. Sometimes he has tears on his face, the emergency lights glinting off of his cheeks in a way it normally doesn’t. Sometimes he’s panting and gasping for breath, chest heaving from running away from the torture his mind put him through. Sometimes he rolls over and tries to go back to sleep; sometimes he has to get up and cool off, heading to the ‘freshers to wash his face or perhaps take a full shower. Sometimes he just lays on his back and breathes, staring up at the bunk above him. 

For the longest time, Dogma wanted to crawl into bed beside him, like when they were little and allowed to share their pods with their batchmates. He wanted to lay beside Tup and tell him that it would be okay, that he would keep watch and make sure Tup was safe. That he killed Krell, and the fallen jedi can’t hurt him or any of their brothers ever again. That he’ll find a way to make sure they never find themselves on such a horrible, rotten planet ever again. That he’ll convince General Skywalker to only go to the pretty planets, the ones with the flowers Tup likes so much. Or maybe the ones with millions or billions of bugs, so he can tell Tup about each and every one of them, so he doesn’t have time to be afraid. 

Tup likes listening to Dogma talk. Not a lot of their brothers do. Some of them are nicer, they let Dogma talk anyway and they don’t tell him to shut up. Like Echo and Fives. But Tup actually likes listening to Dogma talk, no matter what he decides to talk about or for how long. He nods along and makes noises that Dogma has learned means someone is listening but doesn’t want to interrupt. He even asks questions sometimes or adds something he knows too. 

But Dogma doesn’t really know how to say any of the things he really wants to say. Sometimes, when Dogma says how he thinks or feels, his brothers look at him with wide eyes or curled lips. Sometimes they don’t really look at him, except from the corner of their eyes as they face away. Dogma knows that this happens sometimes, but he’s never been able to understand what was wrong about what he says, or how to avoid doing it again in the future. It’s very frustrating, really. Dogma is very good at following rules, if only he could figure out what the rules were. No one can tell him, either, it seems like. The closest he got was when Kix told him ‘we just know the rules, and know when someone breaks them. There isn’t a list or anything.’ 

He had told Kix that his commentary was extremely unhelpful, and Kix had sighed and told him that was a rule Dogma just broke. It isn’t polite to tell someone they’re being unhelpful. 

Which doesn’t make any sense at all, because his brothers seem to have no issue with telling Dogma when he’s being unhelpful. Rex, especially, when he used to come to him and tell him all the rules and regulations his brothers were breaking. 

Sometimes, when Dogma tells people that he likes them, they react positively. When he had told Echo that he found his presence comforting after Echo had asked why Dogma had just come in to sit with him without saying anything, Echo had smiles and told him that was very nice of him to say. But when he had told Sergeant Appo almost the same thing, he had gotten that same look on his face that Dogma thinks means something between horror and discomfort. 

He wants to tell Tup that he would do anything for him, that he would die if it would help Tup. But when he had said something similar to Hardcase, the other soldier had told him not to say things like that. That Dogma wasn’t going to die, and especially not for him. 

Tup whimpers in his sleep, and Dogma looks over the side of his bed to look at him. He frowns, wanting to fix it. He isn’t sure that he can. He’s already reminded Tup several times that they will never go back to Umbara, and that Krell is dead and cannot hurt them. It does not seem to make a difference. Tup still has the nightmares. 

Dogma cushions his hands under his head, laying on his side and watching Tup twitch and wince in his sleep. His eyes flit to a new source of movement, and notices Fives staring at him. He has a frown on his face, and he pulls Echo closer to his chest. Echo scrunches his nose, blinking his eyes open and whispering something. Fives whispers something back, and Echo’s eyes find Dogma. 

Dogma moves his eyes back to Tup, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. If they’re talking about him, then that’s fine. He trusts Echo to be nice to him, and he mostly trusts Fives too. 

Tup whimpers and his fist clenches and unclenches on his chest. Dogma watches him, wishing yet again that he could save Tup from his nightmares. He wonders if Tup would even want him to, if Dogma could figure out how.

The next morning, he sits down next to Tup and across from Hardcase. He likes Hardcase a lot, because he also talks for a very long time sometimes and sometimes that’s good because Dogma doesn’t have to think about what’s the right thing to say. 

He does that now, talking more at Tup and Dogma than to them, about what he’s going to do today and what weapons he wants to train with and asks if they’re going to join him for sparring later without pausing to let them really answer. Tup nods along occasionally, chewing his breakfast slowly. Dogma just watches him talk, mostly his hands and how he uses them so often when he speaks. 

Echo sits next to him some time later, and Fives sits next to Hardcase. “You definitely need a sparring partner,” Fives chimes in, interrupting Hardcase. Dogma fights back the annoyance that flares through him. It isn’t polite to interrupt people, he’s been told that lots of times. Why does Fives get to do it? “All that energy in you today, you need to get it out.”

Hardcase laughs, which only confuses Dogma more, and knocks elbows with Fives. “Offering yourself up, vod? It's been a minute since I’ve put you on your ass.”

Dogma takes a bite of his breakfast, then puts his fork down carefully on his tray. He pushes it just a bit so it’s more straight on the tray, then folds his hands in his lap. 

“You wish,” Fives scoffs, shoving at his arm playfully. “I’ll destroy you.”

Dogma’s nose twitches, and he turns to look at Tup. Tup is always much more interesting than anything else going on. Plus, Dogma just likes to look at him. Tup looks very appealing. 

Tup pauses in his chewing to look at Dogma, then resumes and swallows. “You okay?” he asks softly.

Dogma nods, moving his eyes to Tup’s bun. He likes Tup’s hair. It’s against the regulations, but Tup thinks it’s pretty. Besides, Rex would be the last person to lecture them about their hair. His hair is naturally against regulations, but he also chooses to buzz it far shorter than the rules require. 

“Dogma?” Echo calls, and Dogma turns to give Echo his full attention. “When is your shift today?”

“1200 to 1800. Third shift. I am to report to the hangar for inventory duty.” Dogma feels himself relax a bit, already appreciating the most structured portion of his day. His brothers all appreciate the shorter shifts of space travel, but Dogma doesn’t. Sometimes, when Rex has the time, he will give Dogma an extra schedule-one in which accounts for every hour of his day, including when he is meant to spend time in the gyms and when he is meant to spend time in the barracks to relax. Rex is, however, a very busy man; he is the Captain of the 501st legion, even though that title shouldn't exist. Rex is supposed to be a commander of the 501st legion, and a captain is supposed to be in charge of a company. Technically the 501st is a battalion, back when their general was still a commander working under the larger 212th legion. But General Skywalker chose to keep the 501st and Captain Rex, and therefore the technicalities stopped mattering to most people. 

This is one of things Dogma isn’t supposed to talk about anymore.

“So that means you have some time before your shift starts, right?” Echo clarifies. 

Dogma nods. “It’s currently firstmeal, first served at 0500 and open until 0700, so I have several hours.” He sees Fives roll his eyes in his peripheral vision, and silently wonders what he said that was wrong. 

“I have second shift,” Tup mumbles, squinting his eyes to read the chronometer on the wall. “I still have half an hour,” he declares, turning back to his meal. 

Dogma watches him, wondering how Tup can have such a loose internal drive for knowing the time and being where he is supposed to be. He wishes he knew how to not care all that much, like his brothers. They’re usually never late; Tup is never late, but he doesn’t worry or panic about it. 

Hardcase is like him in this way. He’s always checking the chronometer, always double checking that he’s not late or meant to be somewhere. He is, however, often late. Or half an hour early, depending on the day. 

“Will you come with me and Fives to the gym after we finish eating?” Echo asks. Dogma is grateful he phrased it like that. Sometimes Dogma forgets that ‘can you’ is also a request to do something instead of inquiring about his ability. 

“Yes,” Dogma agrees, grabbing his fork. “I still need to log six hours in the gym before the end of the week.”

“It’s only Taungsday,” Hardcase reminds Dogma. “Not even halfway through.”

“I know,” Dogma says, giving Hardcase a smile. Hardcase was not insulting Dogma’s knowledge, Dogma had a hard time accepting. Hardcase just appreciates reminders like that sometimes, so he gives them out. 

“We aren’t even halfway through,” Tup repeats suddenly, groaning and rubbing at his forehead. “I’m so tired. When is our next leave?”

Dogma perks up, turning his full attention to Tup. “Two more standard weeks after this one,” he supplies. “Assuming our next campaign does not get extended, which we should land for on Primeday.”

Tup sighs, and Dogma wonders if he’s complaining about the upcoming campaign or if Dogma has said something wrong. He takes another bite of breakfast and clatters his fork against his tray. Dogma watches him swallow and then check the chrono again, before standing. “Come on Hardcase, we better get geared up and head down there.”

“I have second shift too?” Hardcase asks, shoveling the rest of his food in his mouth in a panic. 

How he wasn’t aware of that, Dogma can’t begin to imagine, but he knows he isn’t supposed to say that.

 “How did you not know that?” Fives asks, slapping a hand on Hardcase’s back and making the other man choke a bit. “Hopeless, vod.”

Hardcase swallows thickly, and glares at Fives. “Fuck off,” he says, somehow both much meaner and kinder than if Dogma had said the same thing. He stands as well and collects his things on the tray, before waving at them. “I’ll see you guys at latemeal.”

Dogma waves back, and watches him head to the receptacle. He turns to Tup, who collects his tray and smiles at Dogma. “See you later, Dogma.” He looks over Dogma’s shoulder, nodding at the others. “Later.” Dogma watches him leave, sprinting a few steps to catch up with Hardcase.

“Bye,” Fives calls, scooting to take over Hardcase’s seat. Dogma fights the urge to say something; he doesn’t understand why Fives would feel the need to change seats. He already had a perfectly good one.��

“Dogma?” Dogma turns his gaze to Echo, who’s smiling at him. “Is it okay if we talk a bit before we go to the gym?”

“Yes, it’s recommended to wait at least half an hour to perform any physical activity after eating,” Dogma says, though he’s sure Echo already knew that. He likes to read the regs just as much as Dogma does. 

“Right,” Fives says, tapping his fingers on the table. Dogma wishes he wouldn’t; he doesn’t like the lack of rhythm. It seems random, the way his fingers land on the hard surface. But Dogma fidgets as well, and he knows it annoys his friends; though they never say anything. Usually. “Listen, Dogma, I wanted-Echo and I wanted to talk with you about something specific.”

“Okay,” Dogma says, putting his fork down again. He looks at Fives until the other man looks down, and then turns to look at Echo. “Am…I supposed to choose the topic?”

Echo laughs softly, a smile on his face. Dogma doesn’t think it’s mean. Usually a smile has more teeth if someone is laughing at him instead of simply finding Dogma funny. “No, we just-we were arguing over who should start.”

“But you weren’t arguing…?” He means to say it as a statement of fact-because it was one-but it turns into a question as he trails off, because he doesn’t think Echo would lie to him. 

“I’ll start,” Fives says, making Dogma look at him. “You have a staring problem.”

Dogma looks down at his tray immediately, wringing his fingers together under the table. Dogma has trouble with appropriate eye contact. He finds it difficult to do with people he isn’t very comfortable with, and he has a hard time knowing how much is too much and how much makes people think he isn’t listening. He didn’t think it bothered his friends anymore, after he revealed his difficulties. 

“Fives,” Echo says, almost hisses, before turning to Dogma. “Not at us, Dogma. You’ve made a lot of progress about that with us, actually, it seems to be a lot easier for you.”

It isn’t any easier, but he knows that’s supposed to be a compliment. Dogma feels warm, and itchy, and the sounds of the mess hall are starting to be too loud. 

“Dogma?” Echo whispers, and he looks up slowly. Echo gives him a small smile, reaches out to touch him before thinking better of it and running a hand through his own hair instead. “What Fives meant to say was that you seem to stare at Tup, specifically, a lot.”

Dogma pulls at his thumb, looking between him and Fives. “Okay…and that’s a problem?” he asks.

“Yes,” Fives answers, placing both hands flat on the table. “It’s weird, it makes him uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Dogma says, looking to his lap as he pulls at his fingers. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“Is there a reason you stare?” Echo asks softly, scooting a bit closer. “Like last night, we saw you staring at him. Was there a reason?”

“I like to watch him sleep,” Dogma says easily, wincing at Fives’s scoff. 

“Come on, you have to know that sounds creepy!” Fives says.

Dogma frowns, feeling himself squirm. “He has nightmares,” Dogma whispers, half hoping Fives doesn’t hear him. 

“Is that why you stare?” Echo asks, moving his hand so Dogma sees it and looks up. “Because you’re worried about him?”

Dogma nods, feeling relief at Echo knowing how to say what he doesn’t. “I want to help, but I don’t know how. I don’t want-” he looks to Fives and then back to Echo. “I don’t want him to think I’m weird.”

Fives sighs, making Dogma look at him again. “I’m sorry, Dogma, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just-I’m just protective of Tup. He’s my best friend.”

“I thought Echo was your best friend.” Dogma says, forgetting to accept Fives’s apology. 

Fives hesitates, eyes wide with that mix between horror and discomfort Dogma hates inducing, and looks to Echo. “Well…”

“Dogma?” Dogma turns to look at Echo. “Fives and I, we um…we’re dating. Fives is my partner. Did you know that?”

Dogma frowns. “Yes, that’s why you share a bunk even though you’re not supposed to.” Echo ducks his head, and Dogma feels bad. “I’m not going to tell, I was just saying.”

Echo smiles, looking up again. “I know you won’t tell. It was just the way you phrased it was-it was kind of funny.” Dogma cocks his head to the side, but Echo shakes his head. “Nevermind. My point was that-Fives cares about Tup very much, but not in the same way that he cares about me.”

“Okay,” Dogma says, although he doesn’t really understand why any of this is relevant. 

“Dogma, I’m just going to ask it plainly,” Fives says, and Dogma turns to look at him. “Do you care about Tup in the same way that Echo and I care about each other?”

Dogma nods. “Yes, I do. I love him very much.”

Fives’s jaw drops, and his eyebrows move up his forehead. Echo makes a surprised noise, and Dogma turns to look at him instead. “You love Tup?”

“Of course I do,” Dogma says, furrowing his brow at their reactions. “Why are you surprised? He’s very nice to me. He makes me feel safe. He’s my favorite person in the whole galaxy.”

“Why haven’t you told him, if you’re so sure?” Fives asks, voice slightly higher pitched than normal. “It’s not obvious that you…are sure about, we couldn’t tell for sure.”

“Oh, no,” Dogma says, looking down to his hands. “No, I can’t do that. Tup doesn’t deserve that. I’m lucky enough as it is that he’s willing to be my friend.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Dogma looks up after long enough he wants to leave. Echo and Fives are looking at each other, until Echo finally turns to him with a sigh. “What do you mean, he doesn’t deserve that? Deserve what?”

Dogma shifts, wanting to be anywhere but here. It already makes Dogma sad to think about it inside his head, he doesn’t want to talk about it. “I’m…broken. Inside. I know I’m more of a burden than anything else, I know how much effort everyone puts into being nice to me and figuring out how to talk to me.” He swallows thickly, exhales shakily. He won’t cry, not here. It’s not something he’s supposed to do in front of other people. “I don’t deserve to have Tup love me, and Tup doesn’t deserve to have me be that reliant on him. That extent of a burden. He deserves someone who’s good and who can take care of him and who doesn’t need help figuring out how to do it. Someone who just knows how to comfort him and save him from his nightmares and who doesn’t always say the wrong things and make everyone think he’s creepy and weird.” He looks up, makes a frustrated noise. “Someone who doesn’t make people look at them like you’re looking at me now.”

“Dogma,” Echo whispers, eyes wide and back straight. 

Dogma stands abruptly, holding his tray close to his chest. “It’s been thirty minutes, which means we can go to the gym now,” he announces, and leaves without waiting for them to join him. He doesn’t know if he wants them to follow, but he doesn’t know how much it would hurt if they didn’t. 

~

“Tup,” someone says, sounding so very far away. “It isn’t your fault.”

“He saved me,” Tup cries, and Dogma wants to cry too. He’s made Tup cry, he’s made him sound so very sad and angry at the same time. “He pushed me out of the way and he got hit because of that. How is it not my fault? He wouldn’t have gotten hurt if he didn’t try and save me.”

“Dogma made a choice,” Kix says, and Dogma is glad he’s able to identify the other voice. They sound clearer, and everything seems a bit brighter than before. “Not you. You can’t blame yourself for something someone else does.”

“I never told him,” Tup sobs, muffled by something. Maybe his hand. “I never told him what he meant to me, I was too scared.”

“He’s not dead, Tup,” Kix says, and Dogma can almost start to feel things again. He thinks he feels something on his hand. He thinks maybe he’s in a lot of pain, if only his brain would register it. “He might wake up. He might be just fine.”

“Might,” Tup whispers, choking after the syllable. Dogma wishes he could remember how to move. He wishes he knew how to help Tup stop crying. 

“I’m going to give him another sedative, Tup. I can give you one too, if you want.” Dogma wonders, as everything starts to fade out again and go dark, if he maybe dreamed the whole thing.

When he wakes up, it isn’t as if he’s very far away like the first time. He opens his eyes and sees, and he hears the yelling and shuffling of the med bay. Dogma thinks they must be back on the ship; there are walls and it seems too clean to be on the dusty planet they had been fighting on. 

He definitely feels the pain this time, too. It’s all over his entire body, it feels like, and he whimpers softly as his brain finally allows him to register it in full force. 

“Dogma?” Tup asks, voice shaky and unsure, so Dogma turns his head to look at him. He has tears in his red rimmed eyes, and bags under them to prove how little sleep he’s gotten lately. His hair is an absolute mess, half out of the bun and dirty, so completely different from the usual care Tup puts into keeping his hair. Tup leans closer, and Dogma realizes Tup is clutching his hand. “Dogma?”

Dogma swallows thickly, winces at how dry his mouth and throat are, and takes a deep breath. “Tup.”

“Kix!” Tup yells, making the whole med bay get a bit quieter. “Kix, he woke up!”

Dogma turns his head slowly to see the CMO running over, a needle in one hand and a datapad in the other. The needle is jabbed into Dogma’s neck and he winces in pain, before Kix is smiling at him. “You gave us a real scare, Dogma. The painstim should kick in soon. How are you feeling?”

“Pain,” Dogma says, trying and failing to sit up, Kix and Tup both rush to help him. “Thirsty.”

Tup reaches behind him and brings a cup with a straw to Dogma’s lips. Dogma drinks a few sips before he starts to feel sick to his stomach, and pushes it away. “Dogma,” Tup whispers. 

“What happened? Where are we?” Dogma asks, looking to Kix. 

“You got banged up pretty good on the campaign. You’ve been knocked out for a standard week. We won, and the 501st is on our way back to Coruscant. You did great, kid. You’re a hero. You with me?” Kix furrows his brow, waving his hand in Dogma’s face.

Dogma nods slowly, sinking back into the bed. “‘Stim is…working. Doesn’t hurt as bad.”

Kix smiles, patting Dogma’s knee and tapping something into his datapad. “I’ll let everyone know you’re awake, but I’ll give you two a few minutes.” He looks at Tup for a few seconds, before leaving to check on other patients, probably. 

Dogma turns his gaze to Tup, frowning when he sees that he’s crying. “Are you-are you hurt? Should we call Kix back?” 

Tup makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, reaching out and running the back of his fingers down Dogma’s face. “Why did you do it? Why did you save me? I’m just-I’m just me, why would you ever-” he cuts himself off with a gasp.

Dogma blinks, confusion making his already foggy mind worse. “Just you?” He asks, shaking his head. “Who else would you be?”

Tup laughs, sniffles, holds Dogma’s hand. Dogma realizes that he doesn’t mind it, not one bit. “No, I meant…I meant…How do I say this?” he asks, looking down at their hands. “Why did you save me? You could have died.”

“Because I love you,” Dogma says simply, watching Tup’s face morph into something that isn’t quite discomfort but a little horrified. “I have for a long time. For years I have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence. I didn’t want-didn’t want to burden you with it. But I had to save you. There is no other option.”

“Dogma,” Tup whispers, kind of squeaks, his grip on Dogma’s hand tightening.

“It’s okay that you don’t love me back,” he says, hoping that he hasn’t already scared Tup off from wanting to be his friend. “I know that I’m broken, and I’m a lot to deal with. But that’s why I saved you.”

Tup makes a noise Dogma doesn’t recognize, and suddenly his lips are on Dogma’s and Dogma’s brain kind of stops working.

Tup pulls back after a few minutes, kissing all over Dogma’s face instead, one hand cupping his jaw gently. “Dogma,” he cries, kisses him again, and this time Dogma is ready enough to really pay attention to the kiss. It isn’t gross like he thought he would find it. It’s rather nice, actually. He doesn’t want Tup to ever stop doing it. 

He does, though, pulling back and smiling at Dogma. “I love you too, so incredibly much. For so very long. I was just too scared to tell you, because I couldn’t tell if you liked me. I didn’t know if I would make you uncomfortable to be around me anymore, and I wanted you to be comfortable with me so badly. I wanted you to trust me more than anything. I was so scared to ruin that, I never said anything.” Tup pulls Dogma’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles softly. “If I knew that was how you thought of yourself, I would have spent every second of every day telling you how wrong you are.”

Dogma blinks rapidly, reaching up to cup Tup’s face. “You don’t think that I’m…?”

Tup shakes his head rapidly. “I think you’re perfect, Dogma. I love you, and I’ll tell you every single day. I’ll say it until you can’t remember a time when I didn’t. I’ll make you believe it, I’ll make you see how much I love you.”

Dogma feels tears start to build in his eyes. “Will you kiss me again?” he asks.

Tup smiles, and he’s so pretty it makes Dogma gasp. He leans down and connects their lips again, curling their fingers together gently. 

Even though he hurts, he hopes this moment never ends. Because Tup is kissing him, and he loves him, and Dogma loves him back, and he’s never been so happy in his entire life.

#cloneshipping #my writing #tup/dogma #dogma x tup #clonecest

[cloneshipping7567]

...5️⃣/🖐️

#cloneshipping #echo x fives

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 16

Part 16/30

16. "Is it so obvious how infatuated I am?"

Pairing: Fives x Tup

Rating/WC: M (borderline E towards the end)/3913.

Warnings: jealousy, mentions of past character death, Fives is kinda angsty at the beginning lol, almost explicit content towards the end.

Notes: Hey guys! I wanted to try a sort of different style this time, push out of my comfort zone a little. Please let me know what you thought!

~~~

“When are you just going to admit you want him?”

Fives had, before this conversation, been under the impression he was incredibly good at hiding how he truly felt. Not just about certain people, but about everything. Before just a few moments ago, in the overcrowded booth in an absurdly dark corner of 79’s, he had viewed himself as a closed book, impossible to read; the type of person to keep his cards close to his chest and put on a perfect sabacc face. 

The only person who had ever been able to tell what he was thinking was Echo. None of his other batchmates had ever been able to tell when he was upset, what he was thinking, what he thought of them or anyone else. No one at the Rishi outpost could tell when he was lying through his teeth, was able to call him on his banthashit. Not even Captain Rex had been able to read his face or body language, has always bought any story Fives wove, always chose to believe his words even when he stared at Fives dubiously and tried his hardest to get into Fives’s head. 

No one had known about how in love he was with Echo. Not until after it was already too late to matter. 

Maybe he simply got worse at it, in the after. Maybe he lost the ability to carefully control every muscle in his face, to keep his eyes light and honest no matter the lie he concocted. Maybe he’s developed a tell since, some tick that his friends he’s made in the after can easily detect. Because before, Echo hadn’t been able to tell him how he knew Fives wasn’t being honest; he just knew. 

Echo was just like that. He just knew Fives, inside and out and frontways and backwards. 

“What are you even talking about?” Fives asks, carefully molding his smile into his typical teasing smirk, the one he uses when he feels relaxed and safe. Not the one which eventually twists into a mean snarl, the one he only forms when he wants to warn off whoever he’s talking to. The one he meticulously designed to scream back off, you’re getting too close to a flayed nerve. He tosses his arm over the back of the booth, over Jesse’s shoulders, and wraps his other hand loosely around his glass. 

“Everyone knows it!” Hardcase almost slurs, his smile big and dopey. It’s one of Fives’s favorite things about him-he smiles with his whole body, pure in his joy. “You’re so gone on him, man.”

Fives scoffs, forces it to sound lighthearted and forces his smile to remain friendly. “We’re friends. He’s my best friend, even.” He laughs at Hardcase’s affronted whine, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “That doesn’t mean I want to be with him.”

“Yeah, you’re friends; but you’re also very in love with him,” Kix chimes in, leaning forward over his drink. Hardcase thanks him for his support by slapping him hard on the back. “You’re different with him than with the rest of us.”

Fives only laughs, plays at being highly amused. If he only denies hard enough, he can make them start to doubt their own convictions. “Yeah? Okay, then what do I do that’s different?”

Jesse, the traitor, turns his head to look at Fives with an evil glint in his eyes despite his fond smile. It’s less threatening than it could be, considering he’s leaning into Fives’s arm and his tongue is slow with the alcohol coursing through his blood. “You notice him, for one thing. You find him, like no matter where we are. It’s kind of funny, actually, we have an ongoing tally of how quickly you’re able to sense Tup’s presence in a room.” He wiggles his fingers at Fives, smiling wider to show his teeth. “Like a jedi, almost. It’s kinda creepy.”

Fives has to work hard to keep his smile playful, to not tighten his jaw. “What does that even mean, Jess?”

“Your record is eight seconds,” Dogma pipes up, always slightly nervous to add to any conversation, as if everyone will tell him his presence is no longer wanted. He’s been like that since Umbara, Fives has noticed. He used to interject his thoughts freely, sometimes despite the actually there obvious discomfort of his friends. He used to speak each and every thought that would enter his head, even when it was abundantly clear to everyone else his presence was truly no longer welcome. 

Fives wishes this felt like an improvement, like the answer to the wish they all had silently made back then. It doesn’t. 

“That’s hardly noteworthy,” Fives argues, takes a sip from his glass before he continues. “That’s actually pretty bad. There’s no way it takes any of you that long to notice someone else walking through a door.”

“No; we mean like, in the mess hall or here or on a battlefield. No matter how many people are there or where we are or who’s firing at you. You just gravitate to his appearance.” Kix leans back again, smirking. “The eight second record was when we were in the Resolute, there were hundreds of us milling in all at the same time.”

Fives sighs deeply, fighting off the urge to glare or roll his eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything; how do you even know I was looking for him? Maybe I was looking for the general or Rex.”

“How about the fact that you always take every chance you can get to spend your down time with him?” Jesse asks instead, pulling away from Fives again to get a better look at his face. “You’ve blown us off to go find Tup more times than I can count.”

“He’s my best friend,” Fives reminds him, and sharpens his smile meanly. That’s one thing Echo knew about him that no one else seems to: Fives is mean at heart. Cutthroat when he needs to be, viscous even when he doesn’t. It was his idea to try and throw the other Dominoes under the bus and get him and Echo transferred. It was him that knew exactly which sore spots to dig his knife into when Rex needed the extra push to defy Krell; him who took careful notes on Rex’s biggest insecurities and deepest regrets in order to use them later. All while everyone else either doesn’t notice or believes he’s simply being honest. But Fives knows how to push without drawing blood, he knows how to tell the truth without shooting to kill. Sometimes he chooses not to; sometimes he wants to hurt. “How many times have you ditched us to bother Kix in the medbay?”

Jesse’s smile drops, his eyes widen in hurt and confusion. Fives hadn’t needed to flirt the line between exposing Jesse and proving his point; he didn’t need to remind Jesse that Kix hasn’t expressed any sort of reciprocity. That was simply to be mean. 

But it was said innocently enough to pass off as a meaningless comparison, perhaps an accident even. 

Echo would have side eyed him with disapproval. No one else notices Fives’s cruelty. 

“That’s different,” Hardcase cuts in, taking the attention off of Jesse’s faux non-reaction. “Jesse is a lieutenant and Kix is the CMO. They have jobs to do. You and Tup blow us off to hang out together for no reason. You just like him,” he ends the sentence with a teasing grin, finishing the last of his drink.

“You think he’s pretty, too,” Kix interjects, flagging down a waiter and asking for another round. “You stare. You watch him. Like you can’t help it.”

Jesse leans back against the booth, allowing Fives’s arm to stay where it is above him. He doesn’t risk teasing Fives again.

“Especially when he is tying up his hair,” Hardcase does tease, wiggling his eyebrows with a shit eating grin. “But also when he’s running laps, or when he’s sparring, or when he’s eating, or when he’s breathing-”

Dogma laughs at that, drawing Hardcase’s attention to him and that in turn making him blush. 

“Tup is very pretty to look at, to be fair,” Jesse mumbles, almost inaudible over the music and chatter of the club. Fives accepts the truce, letting his arm fall to truly rest over Jesse’s shoulders. 

“I mean, that vod over there sure seems to think so,” Kix adds, nodding to somewhere over Fives’ shoulder. He hides his smirk behind taking another sip of his drink. Asshole. 

Hardcase is significantly less subtle, tearing his eyes away from Dogma to crane his neck and search. “Oh, damn. Get it, Tup!”

Fives feels his blood go cold, and fights the urge to whip around. Instead he turns his head in the direction Kix and Hardcase are looking slowly, feigning only the barest of interest. He wishes he had just allowed his imagination to run wild. It would have been easier to deal with, Fives thinks.

What Tup is doing can hardly be considered dancing. His elbows are resting on his dance partner’s shoulders, both hands weaving his fingers through the slightly longer than regulation hair. Tup’s own hair is half falling out of its messy top bun, certain strands perfectly framing his face. His brilliantly flushed face, with his eyes wide and dark with lust, mouth hanging half open as he pants into his partner’s face. 

He’s so beautiful that Fives hurts. 

His dance partner has one hand down the back pocket of Tup’s civvies, and the other riding his shirt up his side, exposing some of the skin of his torso to the rest of the club. While they are technically swaying in what could be considered an approximation to the beat of the song, they’re mostly focused on grinding their hips together. 

It’s so distracting that Fives forgets himself. Feels his smirk melt into a jealous frown, feels his teeth grind at how tightly he sets his jaw. Tightens his grip on his drink and his other hand forms a fist to rest on Jesse’s shoulder. 

Tup’s mouth lifts into a smile at the corners, probably huffs a laugh at whatever the vod said, turns his head to the side and looks up him through his lashes. Leans into it when his dance partner surges forward to connect their lips in what looks like the beginnings of a filthy kiss. One hand leaves the other man’s hair to feel at his abs and run up his chest.

“Fives?” Jesse whispers in Fives’s ear, too quiet to be noticed by the rest of the table; not that they would notice anyway, Fives realizes as he finally tears his gaze away. They’re all transfixed by the sight as well, Kix and Hardcase with amused grins and Dogma with a slightly horrified expression. 

Jesse turns so he can whisper directly in Jesse’s ear, using the other man’s face to hide his words should the others turn to see. “Do you guys really think it’s obvious how much I love him?” he double checks, pulling back to watch Jesse’s face. Jesse frowns at him sadly, shooting one longing glance at Kix before making eye contact again. Fives leans back in, bringing his glass closer to his body. “Then why hasn’t Tup noticed?”

Jesse reaches under the table to place a comforting hand on Fives’s knee, lightly knocking their foreheads together. Leans past Fives’s face to reach his ear, to whisper back. “Fuck him, Fives. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

When Fives turns his attention back to the table at large he notices Kix quickly looking away, his own jaw set in a mimicry of Fives’s just seconds ago. If Fives were a good person, he would point it out to Jesse. Encourage him to make his move. 

But Fives is mean, and now he’s feeling like taking his jealousy and frustration out on others. He smirks at Kix, knows he’s still looking at them out of the corner of his eyes, and downs the rest of his drink. He leans back into Jesse’s space, his lips brushing the shell Jesse’s ear. “You know I would if I could, Jess.” It makes Jesse smile and blush at the connotation, makes him laugh breathily as he attempts to keep quiet. “Dance with me?” Fives asks instead of excusing himself to wallow alone.

Jesse squeezes Fives’s knee again and nods, finishing his own drink quickly. 

Fives scoots out of their booth and offers his hand to help Jesse up, drawing the attention of Hardcase and Dogma. “Going somewhere?” Hardcase asks. 

Fives looks to him as an excuse for why he didn’t take a step back, forcing Jesse to stand entirely in his space, the front of his body flush with Fives’s side. “To dance. Wanna come?”

Hardcase’s eyes light up and he turns to Dogma, giving him a small and questioning smile. “Wanna?”

Dogma gives him a small smile back, ducking his head just a bit, and nods. “Maybe not like Tup, though,” he jokes, drawing a loud laugh from Hardcase and small chuckles from the rest of them.

Fives finally steps back, pulling Jesse by the hand to the dance floor and positions them perfectly so he can see Tup and Jesse can see Kix, who stays at the table alone. Neither of them are particularly good dancers, but the beat is loud and fun and the alcohol is making their limbs loose; they find themselves able to mostly copy the moves of their fellow vode, bouncing on beat and twisting their bodies just slightly to mimic some sort of coordination. 

It’s fun. His heart is pounding louder than the deafening music, they’re sweating and panting together, blood pumping for a reason unrelated to the war. It’s almost easy to forget everything that’s ever made him miserable, to pretend he’s never felt anything other than how he feels right now, pumped up and excited and a little drunk. Fives gets lost in it, just watches Jesse’s face as he also starts to relax and have fun.

Jesse’s hands fall to his shoulders, and it’s natural for Fives to rest his own hands on Jesse’s hips. Jesse yells something that Fives can’t hear, but he doesn’t need to. Jesse turns them around anyway, and Fives is forced to notice that he hadn’t noticed Tup leaving the dance floor. He’s sitting at the table now, a new drink in hand and face flushed. His hair is completely down now, and he’s talking obliviously to Kix, who’s unabashedly staring at Jesse and Fives dancing. 

Someone bumps into Fives, and he stumbles more thoroughly into Jesse’s arms, Jesse locking his wrists together behind Fives’s head. He laughs at their new position, leaning to yell into Fives’s ear. “You can go talk to him, if you want. I can find someone else to dance with.”

Kix glares at him, openly and unashamed, maintaining eye contact with Fives. Fives smirks at him, still feeling mean but seeing a chance to do something nice for Jesse. He keeps eye contact with Kix, raising an eyebrow as he moves his hands to Jesse’s ass and starts to forcibly move Jesse’s hips in a swish he’s sure looks good. He kisses Jesse’s neck, making him shiver, never taking his eyes off of Kix. 

“Better stop if you’re not going to follow through,” Jesse warns, tilting his head to expose more of his neck to Fives’s lips anyway. 

Kix downs his entire drink, slamming it a bit too harshly back to the table. Come and get it, Fives mouths, before moving his lips up to Jesse’s ear. “Thank me later,” he teases as Kix stands. 

“Huh?” Jesse asks, pulling back to look at Fives. 

Fives smirks and steps back as Kix comes up, one hand landing on Jesse’s lower back as he leans in, probably to ask for the next dance. 

Jesse’s eyes light up and he turns a smile to Fives. Fives winks at him and starts to head back to the table, watching Jesse’s attention be completely monopolized by Kix. 

Fives sits and grabs a drink from a passing tray, the waiter turning to cuss him out before scoffing at Fives’s smile. He turns back the way he came and Fives gets to keep his drink. He turns to Tup, fighting to keep his expression neutral despite the sight before him. 

Tup’s face is flushed such a pretty shade of pink, framed so deliciously by his sweaty curls. His lips are wet and kiss-swollen, quirked into a genuine smile. His shirt is askew, the collar stretched out and hanging half off his shoulder now. It shows off the light hickeys and bite marks on his neck and shoulder. 

“Had fun?” Fives asks, voice aiming for teasing. Misses slightly, hopefully unnoticeable in the loudness of the club. 

Tup nods, absolutely beaming, and he’s so beautiful that Fives can’t stop himself from smiling back. Can’t tear his eyes away, despite the jealousy coursing through his blood. “I don’t even know his name!” Tup announces, like it’s something he’s proud of. “He was so much fun.”

Fives takes a couple swigs from his drink, setting it down carefully again. “I thought you were going to take him home,” Fives teases, keeping his smile playful. “Or the ‘fresher, at least.” 

Tup flushes darker, biting his lip and looking back out at the dance floor. Fives almost follows his gaze, almost attempts to see the face of the vod that stole Tup’s attention all night. Can’t tear his eyes away, can’t deny himself the view. He’s just so pretty, and Fives gets it now. He gets what his friends were pointing out earlier. He’s not good at hiding how he feels about Tup. It must be pathetically obvious to anyone who’s looking. 

Tup suddenly looks back at Fives, his smile gone and gaze so intense that Fives straightens up. “What do I have to do to get you to admit you like me?”

Fives’s eyes widen, and he feels his jaw drop in shock. 

Tup cocks his head to the side, eyes looking over Fives’s face. “I know you do. No one else has ever looked at me the way you do. Even when they want me, they don’t look the same. How obvious do I have to be before you get it?”

Fives blinks, and then he feels his face split into an enormous grin. Feels himself start to laugh, feels like the weight of a bantha has been lifted off his chest. He stands and walks to the other side of the booth, forcing Tup to scoot in as he crowds the other man’s space. “Is it so obvious how infatuated I am?” he asks, smirking as he pulls back to see Tup’s face.

His eyes are darkening, and he bites his lip as he takes in Fives’s face. “Pretty obvious,” Tup agrees.

Fives hums, leaning in and gently biting Tup’s earlobe. It pulls a gasp from Tup’s own lips, makes his hand grip at Fives’s wrist. “You’re the most beautiful person alive, Tup. You’re so pretty it hurts, makes me lose my mind.” Tup’s other hand goes to Fives’s neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his skull, grip strong enough that Fives is sure he couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. “I never thought you would ever look at me the same way. I’m yours, love. All you had to do was ask.”

Tup pulls Fives’s hand into his lap, gasping at the initial contact. “Keep talking,” he begs.

Fives smirks, shifting closer and grinding his palm where Tup put it. His other hand slides up Tup’s back under his shirt, feeling how hot and sweaty his skin is. He starts to kiss from just below Tup’s ear down his neck, lips covering the bruises already there. “Everything about you drives me wild, darling. It’s like you were designed with everything I’ve ever wanted kept in mind.” He bites gently at Tup’s shoulder, drawing such a delicious whine from his throat. “God, the noises you fucking make. Indecent. Makes me wonder what else I could pull from you if I tried hard enough.”

“Fives,” Tup gasps, almost moans, head tilted back spreading his legs so Fives can have better access. Shifts, as if he wants to face Fives instead of forwards, but doesn’t want to dislodge Fives’s hand. 

“I want to put my mouth on you so bad,” Fives groans, moving his lips back up to Tup’s ear. “I want to make you feel so good that you scream. I want to crawl under the table and make it so obvious what’s happening to you that everyone here notices. I want to know what you taste like, want to know what face you make when I finish you. Want to swallow down everything you give me, until there’s nothing left and you’re squirming to get away. I want-oh!” Fives cuts himself off with a gasp, eyes dark with need, pulling back to greedily watch Tup’s face.

Tup whimpers and bites his lip, shivering and grinding up into Fives’s palm erratically. His face is so red, and his breath is coming so shakily, and his eyes are half closed. “Don’t stop, please, I’m so close, Fives.”

“Here?” Fives asks, licking his lips at just the idea of it. At the knowledge that his words have such a strong effect on Tup. The booth is dark, sure; but it’s still visible.

Tup whines in impatience, fingers tightening on Fives’s wrist, before he shakily pulls the hand away. “Tease,” Tup accuses breathily.

“After the show you put on for me just then with that other vod?” Fives asks, scraping his teeth over one of the darker bruises. “You’re one to talk.”

Tup blushes again, pulling Fives back enough to stare at him with dark eyes. He’s about to respond, opens his mouth to say something, when their little bubble gets so rudely burst. 

“Oh, about time!” Hardcase yells, scooting into the booth and pulling Dogma with him. He’s grinning at them, and Dogma even has a knowing blush on his cheeks. “Was starting to think I was the only one with any balls at all in this group.” 

Dogma gasps at the language, and Tup only rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Hardcase. Fives shakes his head fondly and points his head in the direction of Kix and Jesse still dancing. “Some of us just need an extra push, is all.” Hardcase and Dogma turn to watch Jesse sticking his tongue down Kix’s throat, both of them having given up on actually dancing. Hardcase starts to whoop loudly, and Dogma even smiles and leans into him, making Jesse flip them off without looking. 

Fives uses the distraction to slip out of the booth, pulling Tup with him. “I wasn’t talking just to talk, by the way. Come home with me,” he whispers in Tup’s hair.

Tup flushes and starts pushing at Fives, just to get him moving. “See you guys back at the barracks,” Tup says, then smirks over his shoulder. “Maybe give us a head start,” he warns, earning a surprised bout of laughter from their table. 

Fives smiles at him, smitten; he doesn’t know how the night turned out so perfectly, but he’s damn sure not going to question it. He puts his hand on Tup’s lower back and starts to lead them towards the exit instead.

#tup x fives #fives/tup #cloneshipping #my writing #clone ship

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 15

Part 15/30

5. "I am so very in love with you."

Pairing: Jesse x Kix

Rating/WC: M/3,198 words.

Warnings: injuries, probably incorrect medical procedures, Jesse gets a lil high off pain stims lol.

Notes: This is my first time really trying to incorporate mandoa into one of my fics, and it's also my first time creating OC clones! Apologies for any similarities to anyone else's OC clones.

~~~

“No, vod, the cot on the left of that one. That one is still bloody. Careful with him!” Kix groans in annoyance, applying even more pressure to the poor shiny’s leg he’s currently stitching up. He appreciates when regular troopers try and help him and his team in the med tents, but sometimes he swears they don’t have common sense. “Put him down gently, you don’t want to hurt him, do you?”

“Sorry, sir,” the not-so-helpful trooper says bashfully. “Here, Trench, scoot back a bit…”

“Kix?” Coric asks, walking over with a a med kit. Kix looks away from the mess going on in front of him to look at his fellow medic. “I can take over, if you’re needed elsewhere.”

Kix smiles gratefully, turning his attention back to his patient.“What’s your name, trooper?” 

“D-don’t have one, yet. My batch called-” he grunts as his leg spasms, causing Kix to apply even more pressure. “Called me Four-Six, the last two d-digits of my number.” 

Kix nods, smiling in reassurance. “Alright, Four-Six. Coric here is going to take over for me, stitch you up and give you a bacta patch. Are you ready?”

Coric opens his med pack and starts applying a band above the wound to help stem the flow for the stitches, nodding at Kix. 

“Y-yeah. Thank you, sir,” he mumbles, turning his attention to Coric. 

Kix slowly pulls his hands away, allowing Coric to take over. “He still needs a pain stim, do you have one?” At Coric’s affirmative, he leaves them and walks over to the pair of troopers causing havoc in his med tent. “Trench, was it?” Kix asks, politely smacking the friend’s hands away and adjusting the trooper himself. 

Trench nods, grimacing in pain. “Y-yeah, that’s me. I got hit in the side with shrapnel from an explosion.” he points to his right side, and his friend awkwardly stands at the head of the cot. 

Kix nods and starts to carefuly remove Trench’s upper armor pieces, and hands them to his friend just so the poor kid has something to do. “And what’s your name, vod?”

“Uh…” he looks down at the armor in his hands and then back up at Kix. “Rung, sir.”

Kix hums, grabbing his scissors and turning his attention back to the patient. “Good job bringing your friend in,” he says softly. He cuts off the upper blacks, and hisses through his teeth as he takes in the wound. At least he isn’t actively bleeding out. “Yeah, it got you real good there. Lay back and try to get comfortable, I’m going to get you a pain stim and then I’m going to remove the shrapnel and slap a bacta patch on it. I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but I’ll need to see it once the foriegn bodies out, okay?”

Trench nods, gritting his teeth together in pain. “Sounds good, doc,” he gets out. 

Kix nods back and stands up again, going over to his makeshift desk in order to grab the pain stim and his tweezers and tray. He looks over the rest of his patients on the way back to Trench’s bed, making sure they’re all still stable. 

“Alright,” Kix says, sitting beside the cot once more. “I’m going to give you the pain stim, and then give you a few minutes for it to kick in. Are you ready?”

Trench nods, taking in a deep breath and holding it–maybe he’s been through this before. 

Kix doesn’t give him a count down, just jams the needle into Trench’s neck and winces in sympathy as he gasps. “There we go. Give it a couple minutes, you won’t feel a-”

“I’m really fine, sir, I promise. I don’t need to see the medics.” Kix looks up immediately, putting his tray and tweezers down on the bed near Trench’s legs. They all have the same voice; but he knows that one. He would know it from a hundred klicks away. 

“Considering you can’t stand up by yourself, I’m going to disagree with you,” a tired voice responds, instantly recognizable as Rex’s. “You were blown out of the sky, Jess. Let the medics take a look at you.”

“Was not,” Jesse argues, hobbling into view with his arm around Rex’s shoulder, who is half carrying Jesse into the med tent. “I happened to be in a gun ship which crashed due to enemy missiles. I’m perfectly fine.”

Rex rolls his eyes and makes eye contact with Kix. “How’s it going in here, Kix?”

Kix pats Trench’s good shoulder gently, and walks over to the pair. “Well, all things considered. Almost everyone has been patched up, and most everyone who came in has already been sent back to camp. How’s clean up going, sir?” Kix steps forward and throws Jesse’s other arm over his shoulder, and puts a hand on Jesse’s chest to help him balance. 

Rex adjusts his hold so he’s supporting Jesse’s back, and Jesse’s arm slides down Rex’s back until it’s resting at his side. “Mostly well. Not very many injured clones this battle, mostly just…”

Kix works his jaw, dipping his head in respect for his lost brothers. It explains why his job has been unusually calm today. The group Kix was with during the fighting was with the General and Captain Rex; naturally, less soldiers get hurt when with them. Kix himself didn’t see much more of the fighting.

“I’m really fine,” Jesse says again, once the silence has gone on just a second too long to be comfortable. “I promise. I can help with the clean up, sir.”

“Your orders are to let Kix look you over and treat any injuries you have. You can help once the CMO has cleared you for action. Am I understood, Lieutenant?” 

“Sir, yes sir!” Jesse says, straightening up out of habit and wincing in pain after he has. He sinks forward into Kix’s hold, jaw clenched tightly. Kix fights back a sigh; perfectly fine. Sure. 

Rex steps back, keeping his arms out just in case, as he lets Jesse get used to Kix’s support. “Good. Kix, let me know if you need any additional support.”

“Yes sir,” Kix agrees, and starts to lead Jesse back to an empty bed. “Coric, can you handle Trench when you’re done with Four-Six?”

“Yes sir, I’m almost done here. You take care of Lieutenant Jesse.” Coric doesn’t look up from his stitchwork, too focused. He isn’t one to joke around or tease while on duty; that’s saved for the barracks. 

“Great,” Kix says, turning to Trench. “Is that pain stim starting to kick in yet?”

Trench slowly turns his head to Kix, as if he’s two seconds behind real time. “Oh, yeah,” Trench drawls, smacking his lips. “Take-take your time. I feel…great.”

Kix snorts and nods at him and Rung, before leading Jesse all the way to the back. There’s a curtain here Kix can draw; they’ll be in relative privacy. “You got blown out of the sky?” Kix asks softly, not wanting to be overheard. 

Jesse grunts, turning his head to force a smirk in Kix’s direction. “Nah, I just happened to be in a gun ship-”

“Which was blown out of the sky,” Kix cuts him off, helping Jesse turn and sit on the cot. “Where all does it hurt? I need to know how to lay you down.”

“You know I like it on my back, baby,” Jesse says, eyes alight with mischief. Kix narrows his eyes, unamused. “Everywhere, it hurts everywhere. I do think I’m good to lay on my back, though. I think I just bruised up my left side.”

Kix hums and starts to gently manuever Jesse onto his back on the cot, ignoring his pained pants and gasps for now. “Okay. Let’s get your armor off, and I’ll look you over.”

Jesse sucks in another shaky breath, but tries to smile at Kix through his grimace. “Bet you-you would want me out of my armor-”

“Save your breath,” Kix says, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to check you for a concussion first. Look straight ahead for me?” He pulls out his flashlight and lines it up with Jesse’s eyes.

“I’d rather look at you, darling,” Jesse murmurs, but he does as he’s told and stares at the opposite wall of the tent. 

“You’re so annoying,” Kix complains, but shines his light and moves it around to check. His pupils look fine, dilating normally. No concussion, at least. “Do you remember hitting your head at all?”

“I think I hit my head when I fell for you, Kixy,” Jesse says, lulling his head to the side. “But I don’tremember hitting it in the crash.”

“I am trying to triage you,” Kix says, exasperated, and leans away from Jesse. “Can you take this seriously?”

“You always worry too much,” Jesse informs him, one side of his mouth quirking up into a cheeky smile. “I’m really fine, I just got bruised up. I was really lucky.”

“I worry because you’re stupid,” Kix says bluntly, starting to gently pull Jesse’s armor off. “And you avoid medical at all costs. You could be actively dying and you would find a way to avoid letting me take care of you.”

“I take offense to that,” Jesse mumbles, trying his best to help Kix. Kix moves down to get the lower half of Jesse’s armor off and allows him to get the upper half himself. “I like you taking care of me. Especially in the bedroom. I just don’t like medical.”

Kix gives him an unimpressed look, finishing up the lower armor and moving to help with Jesse’s chest and back plate. “I am working, Jesse. Behave.”

“If I’m good, will you give me a treat?” Jesse asks, immediately disobeying. “You know how much I love su-”

“Doesn’t matter, since you’re apparently set on being inappropriate,” Kix hisses, gently smacking Jesse on the forehead. At Jesse’s affronted look, Kix smirks and starts to peel Jesse’s uppers off. “Lean forward for me, you can hold onto my shoulders if it helps.”

Jesse carefully gets himself into an almost sitting position by grabbing onto kix’s shoulder, and while he’s obviously in pain he’s still smirking at Kix. “I think I know how to ride you by now, Kix.”

Kix barks a surprised laughed, finally getting Jesse’s shirt off and helping him lay back down. “Shut up,” he hisses, but his own amused smile gives him away. “You’re impossible. Let me look at you.”

Jesse grins, rolling a bit on his good side so Kix can see part of his back as well. “See? I’m fine. Just lots of bruising, I bet.”

Kix runs his fingers gently over Jesse’s side, frowning at the coloration. “You’re bruised to hell and back,” Kix mutters, narrowing his eyes when his fingers catch. He goes back to that spot and presses gently, causing Jesse to release a whimper through gritted teeth. “And you broke a couple ribs.”

“Kix,” Jesse whispers, sucking in a gasp and wincing as he does. “Ow.”

Kix sighs sadly, moving his hands up and looking over Jesse’s arm. “You bruised your elbow pretty bad, too.” He gently moves Jesse’s arm, bending it, and frowns when the other man lets out another pained gasp. “Sprained. I’m going to wrap it up, but bacta won’t do much for this.”

Jesse hums in acknowledgement, watching Kix’s fingers as they gently explore his injuries. “What about on my back?” he asks softly. 

Kix lets his eyes flit to Jesse’s, and gives him a soft smile. “Roll over a bit more for me. Are you sure you didn’t hurt your other side? You aren’t putting pressure on any injuries?”

Jesse shakes his head and rolls over so almost his entire front is on the cot. “No, my right side feels fine.”

Kix runs his fingers over Jesse’s back, pressing on some parts and ensuring the bruising isn’t too bad. He doesn’t want to miss any signs of internal bleeding. “You banged yourself up pretty good, Jesse,” Kix confirms, sighing sadly. 

“My hip hurts, too,” Jesse says, looking over his shoulder at Kix. “You might have to roll down my lowers.”

A part of Kix wants to narrow his eyes and call banthashit, but the medic in Kix doesn’t want to waste any time. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls Jesse’s lower blacks down and examines the area. “Did you land on it during the crash at all?”

“Kind of. I mostly just landed on my left side, which is why it’s all bruised.” Jesse shifts a bit, wincing as his arm brushes over his ribs. 

Kix runs his fingers over the bruises, sighing again. “I don’t think you have any cuts or internal bleeding. I think you just need a pain stim and rest. The ribs are going to be your biggest problem, but you’re going to be sore all over for at least a week.”

“Move your fingers a little and you could leave me a more satisfying kind of sore,” Jesse whispers, smiling and reaching down to brush their fingers together. 

Kix sighs heavily, pulling Jesse’s lowers back up and glaring at him. “Seriously, Jesse?”

Jesse only chuckles breathily, rolling over onto his back and wiggling to try and relieve as much discomfort as he can. “Worth a shot.”

Kix rolls his eyes and walks over to his desk, grabbing another pain stim. He jams it into Jesse’s neck without warning, earning a squawk of indignation for his efforts. “Let that kick in, I’m going to check on my more well behaved patients.”

Jesse pouts, his right arm wrapping around his body to rest lightly over his broken ribs. “But I’ll miss you,” he whines.

Kix shakes his head, but he can’t stop the small smile from forming on his lips. “You’ll live, I’ll only be gone a few minutes. Call if you need anything-but remember Coric is here, and he might check on you instead.”

Jesse tries to give a put on sigh, but winces at the pressure on his ribs. “I guess I won’t expose myself, then.” he grunts, rolling his eyes.

Kix doesn’t dignify the sarcasm with a response, just leaves and checks on the other vode who need his attention. Most of the troopers have fallen asleep, aided by pure physical exhaustion and the pain stims. He makes his way towards the entrance, and sees Coric is carefully pulling the shrapnel from Trench. “How’s it going here, Coric?”

“Good,” his fellow medic says without looking up. “Four-Six is all patched up, and I’m letting the bacta do its job. How’s the lieutenant?” 

“Bruised very badly, broke some ribs and sprained his elbow. Nothing to be done except to administer pain stims.” Kix looks over at Four-Six, smiling at the way he’s fallen asleep with his mouth hanging open. “Lucky, all things considered.”

“I asked the captain, and no one else in the gunship made it out.” Coric does look up at that, dropping a piece of metal into the tray. 

Kix feels his heart start to beat harder and faster, at just the idea of Jesse having died today. If the ship had exploded on impact with the ground, as they often do; or if he had been sucked out of the ship and fallen to the ground himself; if no one had searched the ship for survivors-

“Breathe, sir,” Coric says softly. “You just checked him over. He’s fine.”

Kix swallows thickly and realizes he’s holding his breath. He slowly pushes the air out through his nose, nodding once to Coric. “This was a-a hard won battle. Too many casualties.”

Coric nods in agreement. “I can handle things from here. Go get some rest, I’ll wake you up for your shift.”

Kix takes one last sweeping look around the tent, and nods at Coric again. “Thanks, vod,” he mumbles, before heading back to the curtained off section of the tent. 

Jesse sluggishly looks up at Kix, and a dopey grin spreads out across his face. “Heeeeey baby,” he greets, just a bit too loud, considering where they are. 

Kix lets out a soft laugh, closing the curtain and sitting beside the cot. “Shush, you’re being too loud.”

“Let’em hear me,” Jesse argues, reaching down and grabbing for Kix’s hand. Kix takes mercy and curls their fingers together. “They’ll just know how…how…yeah.”

Kix laughs and brings Jesse’s hand to his lips to kiss. “They’re trying to sleep, love. They need to rest too.”

“I don’t need rest. I just need you,” Jesse says, his eyes warm and full of affection. “You’re perfect.”

Kix ducks his chin and smiles, leaning on the cot. “You’re only saying that because of the pain stim.”

“Nuh uh,” Jesse argues, squeezing Kix’s hand. “I’m only saying it because-because it’s true and it should be said. You should know it.” He smiles again, using his other hand to run his fingers over Kix’s hair as far as he can reach. “You’re so pretty, Kix. You have cool hair.”

Kix snorts, scooting closer so Jesse doesn’t put any pressure on his broken ribs. “Are you feeling better?”

“Mhm,” Jesse confirms, his eyes roving over Kix’s face with such intensity it almost brings a flush to his cheeks. “You fixed me.”

Kix shakes his head fondly, resting his head on Jesse’s chest on his good side. He plays with Jesse’s fingers, keeping his hand in both of his. “Good, I’m glad you aren’t hurting as much.”

Jesse runs the fingers of his right hand gently over Kix’s hair, smiling down at him. “Oh, gods, Kix.” Kix frowns, ready to get up and force him to lay still and rest if he’s in pain. But then Jesse laughs and runs his fingers down the side of Kix’s face. “I am so very in love with you. It’s like my heart is gonna burst out of my chest just to get to you.”

Kix laughs at that, sneakily pressing two fingers to the pulse in Jesse’s wrist just to make sure his heart rate is actually normal. “Jesse…”

“I love you so much, Kix,” he whispers, his eyes starting to droop. “You’re so perfect, and you make me so happy, and all I ever wanna do is be with you. I love you.”

Kix is definitely blushing now. He leans forward and connects their lips softly, just to make him stop talking. Jesse obviously finds it hard to kiss back, but Kix doesn’t really mind. He moves their lips together, and adjusts for Jesse’s clumsy attempts to reciprocate. Jesse’s fingers curl over Kix’s hair, and he squeezes Kix’s fingers with his other hand.

Kix smiles and pulls back, rubbing their noses together gently before pulling back further. “I love you too, Jess. More than anything.”

Jesse beams at him, like Kix personally hung all the stars in the sky, and sighs happily. “Kix.”

“Go to sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.” With a new pain stim, he doesn’t add. 

“Don’t let go of me,” he mumbles as his eyes fully slip closed. “Hold my hand.”

“I will,” Kix promises, kissing Jesse’s jaw before resting his head back on Jesse’s chest.

#jesse x kix #clone medic kix #cloneshipping #my writing

[cloneshipping7567]

my cuties🤲

#jessix

[cloneshipping7567]

Commission of a scene from @elthadriel’s fic You Left Me Here Behind!

My commissions are still open if anyone’s still interested.

#codex #codyrex #omg #🥺😍

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 14

Part 14/30

14. "I dream of you. All I do, is dream of you."

Pairing: Rex x Cody

Rating/WC: G/1602

Warnings: None :D

~~~

Cody comes to consciousness slowly, and peacefully. He almost doesn’t notice the difference, with how smooth the transition from sleep to awake is. 

He blinks his eyes open and lets out a content sigh. The curtains are drawn mostly shut, but a small sliver of light cascades across the bed. He lazily tilts his head to the side and hums softly when he sees the time. 

They never get to sleep this late. The mere fact that they are sends another wave of content peacefulness through Cody. 

He turns over and fights the urge to pull his partner into his arms, lest he wake him. Rex is so adorable when he sleeps; his lips part just enough that his exhales make the softest noise. His face is always so relaxed, so unlike when he’s awake and worried about this or that. 

Cody feels his own face split into a dopey grin; the kind that would get Fox or Wolffe laughing at him, making fun of him. The kind that, when Rex catches it directed at him, makes him blush such a pretty shade of pink and duck his head. 

Cody’s so in love it hurts. Rex is just so perfect, in every single way. How brave he is, how smart he is, how selfless he is. How honorable, how reliable and trustworthy he is. How loyal, how kind, how loving. 

The way he adores his shinies, putting as much time and effort into training them as he can spare without compromising his other duties. How, even when he isn’t actively involved with the shinies, they always know how much they can look up to and trust him. 

Rex makes a soft noise and scrunches his nose in his sleep. Cody breathes out a silent laugh, and wonders what’s happening in Rex’s dream. Cody himself doesn’t dream very often, and when he does, it’s usually memories. 

He hopes Rex is having good dreams, at least. Maybe he’s dreaming about the time they snuck out of base on that speeder and drove as fast as they could around that planet Cody can’t remember the name of. It was a gorgeous planet; there was so much green everywhere, and flowers of every color littered about. The path was twisty and full of bumps, and Rex had had his arms wrapped so tightly around Cody’s waist he had trouble breathing deep enough to whoop as he had been. It had taken several twists and turns to convince him Cody wasn’t going to crash; but when he finally let himself relax and have fun, Rex was laughing and yelling right there with him. 

Or maybe he’s dreaming about the time on Kamino when they were still cadets, and Cody snuck him out on one of the platforms in the middle of the night. Rex had been so nervous at first, always looking over his shoulder and waiting for them to get caught. But Cody knew better; he wouldn’t have risked bringing Rex out past curfew if he wasn’t 100% sure of their route. But once they were outside, and he saw the ocean-that was it. The look of pure awe on his face, the way his smile slowly crept up on his lips like he couldn’t control it. It was one of the few times Tipoca City wasn’t in a storm, and the calm waves were shimmering in the moonlight. Cody had started with the intention of watching the waves as well, maybe see one of the creatures moving under the surface. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of Rex’s face the whole time, too enraptured by his best friend’s joy. 

Rex’s lips twitch, breaking into an almost smile. He snuggles into the pillow, getting just  that much closer to Cody. Cody lifts one arm and gently rests it on Rex’s chest, smoothing his fingers over Rex’s chest. 

It must be a good dream, if Rex is smiling. Maybe something to do with his ARCs, Echo and Fives. He and Cody were both so proud of them when they came out of ARC training, even convincing Colt to take a holo for them. Rex had been physically incapable of dropping his smile that day, his pride radiating off of him. He had honestly been more full of pride that day than when he graduated ARC training himself. 

Sometimes Cody feels like he can’t possibly fall in love any more than he already has, when it comes to Rex. It feels like it should be physically impossible for Cody to love Rex more than he already does. Every single cell in his body, every atom that makes up Cody, was made to love Rex. Every breath he breathes is for Rex, every time his heart beats, every move he makes, every second of every day is devoted to loving Rex. 

But then Rex will do something like ask Colt for a holo on the domino twins’ graduation day, and Cody is smitten all over again. Every time he looks at Cody, every time he smiles at Cody, every time he breathes, it’s like Cody’s heart simply grows just to be able to love Rex even more. 

Rex laughs softly, his lips twitching into another smile, and he shifts closer to Cody. Cody feels yet another wave of love and adoration overwhelm him. His fingers flex on Rex’s chest, and he finally gives into the need to wrap his arm around his lover. 

Rex lets out a sleepy sigh, his nose nuzzling under Cody’s jaw. For a second, Cody is worried he woke his lover up, but Rex simply settles again and his breathing evens back out. 

Cody closes his eyes, resting his chin on Rex’s short hair and taking a deep breath. Leave is so rare for the GAR; having a leave scheduled at the same time as the 501st is nothing short of a miracle. Or Skywalker wanting to see his not-so-secret wife. Either one. 

Maybe that’s what Rex is dreaming about. His crazy general, and the shenanigans they get up to that give Cody’s general (and, okay, Cody too) a heart attack. While Skywalker’s plans are borderline suicidal, and often far more dangerous than necessary, they are thrilling and exciting. He knows Rex enjoys going on missions with his general, loves the adrenaline high he gets every time without fail. 

Maybe he’s dreaming about the padawan, Commander Tano. Cody knows how fond of her Rex is, how much he adores her. Heck, half the 501st adopted her as their honorary little sister. It’s not difficult to convince her to help them annoy Skywalker in one way or another. It’s also not difficult to feel protective over her, with how willingly she jumps head first into danger. Kenobi calls it payback for his own padawanship, and all the heart attacks Skywalker gave Kenobi over the years. 

Rex sighs softly, his lips pressing softly into Cody’s throat. “Time ‘s it?”

Cody hums softly, pulling Rex into a deeper embrace. “It’s still early,” he promises. “And we have nowhere to be.”

Rex makes a noise halfway between annoyed and placated. “You been ‘wake long?” He asks instead of arguing, pressing another kiss to Cody’s throat. 

Cody shivers softly, kissing Rex’s hair. “Just a bit. I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

Rex hums and leans back, finally blinking his eyes open. His cheeks heat to a soft pink, and he smiles lovingly. “Hi.”

Cody chuckles deeply, leaning down and connecting their lips in a chaste kiss. He deepens it slightly when Rex makes a happy noise, nothing rushed or heated, but deep and full of love. He pulls back after what could have been minutes or hours, and watches Rex blink his eyes open again. “Hi.”

Rex smirks, kissing Cody again once before resting his head back against the pillow. “I haven’t slept that good in a long time,” he mumbles. 

Cody gets up on one elbow, resting his head on his wrist and smiling down at Rex. “Yeah? What were you dreaming about? You looked happy.”

Rex blushes again, smiling up at Cody. “You were watching me sleep?”

Cody nods, unashamed. “Just a little.”

“Creeper,” he accuses lightly, rubbing his fingers up and down Cody’s free arm. 

Cody laughs, running his own hand down Rex’s side until it rests on his hip. “What were you dreaming about?” He asks again. 

Rex hums softly, curling his fingers around Cody’s bicep. “The same thing I always dream about.”

Cody raises a brow, squeezing Rex’s hip. “…And? What do you usually dream of?”

Rex flushes just a bit, and his shy smile returns. “I dream of you. All I do is dream of you.” Rex moves his hand up Cody’s shohulder until he can cup the back of his neck, and pulls him down for another kiss.

Cody sighs happily into the kiss, leaning over Rex and moving his hand back up Rex’s side. If there’s anything in this galaxy better than sleepy kisses shared with the love of his life, his soulmate, his bet friend; Cody has yet to find it. 

Cody pulls away and huffs out breathless laughter, making Rex smile and chuckle back. “What?” Rex asks, squeezing the back of his neck.

“I just love you,” Cody says, kissing Rex’s nose. “So much.”

Rex blushes again, pecking Cody’s lips. “Sap,” he accuses, in between more soft kisses. “But I love you too.”

Cody chuckles and lays down again, pulling Rex into his arms and kissing the top of his head. They have no where to be, after all. They can spend all day in bed if they want.

#cloneshipping #codex #my writing #codyrex

[cloneshipping7567]

For the Rest Prompts: Fog with Cody/Rex or Missing Piece with Fox/Fives, whichever you like better!

Thank you so much @purgetroopercody for the prompt (I can only apologise for the longest wait of all time!) 😘 And thank you so much to my lovely lovely beta for all of your encouragement, and all of your help along the way – you're a star!

Posted On AO3 | My Writing | The Prompt List | Rating: M | Pairing: Fox/Fives | Warnings: Mild Sexual Content, Hookups/Hooking Up, Background Relationships, Post-Season 5, Strong Language | Words: 4.9k | Summary: 19BBY — It's been a long time since the ARC trooper and the commander of the Coruscant Guard crossed paths. Much has changed since then. But some things haven't changed much at all.

⭒

A FOOL'S PARADISE

Missing Piece (i.e., falling asleep somewhere that isn't their bed)

Republic Centre For Military Operations Senate District Coruscant

As the reach of the Separatist army spread across the galaxy, so too did the clone barracks on Coruscant. These days, it was a city within a city: the corridors as streets that were never silent; the mess halls like diners where clones from different divisions would meet; corps and legions and battalions forming communities within communities – the 212th sector here, the 501st there.

And Fives navigated it all from memory, this sort of home from home, until a pair of blast doors opened before him, ushering him into the Coruscant night.

The base hummed with a persistent energy, in spite of the hour. Fives looked out across the buzzing stage area that never seemed to sleep, where squads of clones marched in tight formation beneath the wings of swooping LAATs. Armour-clad troopers disembarked, heavy artillery was transported to and from the gunships, and repulsorcrafts carried the injured off to the medcentre.

By some instinct, he always searched for the stars, no matter where in the galaxy he found himself. His fondest memory from Rishi's moon was those bright spots of light, after years of knowing little but rain and storm clouds. And he'd taken comfort in their presence, the solid fact of their existence, no matter how dark the night.

Like his brothers, he thought.

But there were no stars to be found on Coruscant. Instead, the lights of airspeeders streaked across Galactic City's polluted sky like the trails of meteors, and reminded him of that moon, those brothers. How eager they'd all been, to see the galaxy and fight the enemies of the Republic. Even as the anticipation of his imminent deployment made itself known in his fingertips and the space behind his navel, he found himself missing those long, quiet rotations he'd taken for granted at the outpost, restless then with lofty ambition.

Behind him, the same door he'd passed through just moments before hissed open. Fives, lost in his thoughts as he'd been, started at the sound, and turned to see a clone sporting the red embellishment of the Coruscant Guard exiting the 501st barracks. He frowned.

The red of the Guard, the swish of the kama against strong thighs, the twin Deeces in their holsters …

His chest tightened. "Fox – is that you?"

The clone had come to a halt before him, and even as he tilted his head to one side, he didn't remove his helmet. When he finally spoke, his voice was throaty through the bucket's modulator.

"Fives?"

"So it is you." A strange concoction of excitement and irritation spread through his veins, and Fives tried not to let either flavour his tone. "The new paint job threw me off – don't think we've seen each other since Phase Two."

"That sounds about right," Fox replied, keeping his helmet in place and leaving Fives with no facial cues to interpret the commander's cool words. He might have crafted the best sabacc face in the GAR, but Fives remembered, with acute clarity, how much Fox's eyes tended to give away, when one knew what to look for.

Certain he was being scrutinised, and at a disadvantage in just his casual reds, Fives shifted on his feet and said, "So, what brings you to this neck of the durasteel woods?"

Fox gestured with the datapad in his hand. "Administration never sleeps," he replied. "Had some paperwork to verify with a certain captain. And I presume you're out here in just your reds because …"

"... we're being shipped out to the Mid Rim, first thing in the morning. Thought I'd get some fresh air. I, uh, have trouble winding down before deployment."

Fives thought Fox might have said, "I remember," but it was too faint to be certain. The commander's face was angled away from him, and there was a rush of wind in his ears, carrying the stench of sulphur from the Industrial Sector. Before Fives had a chance to let the thought sink in, Fox followed it up with a louder and clearer, "Well, good luck out there."

And then he was walking away.

Fives bristled – not only at Fox's dismissal, but his own body's traitorous response. Fives wasn't a jealous or petty man; he didn't hold grudges, didn't lose sleep over missed opportunities. Yet he was disquieted by a sinking sensation somewhere around his solar plexus, and the image in his mind's eye of a tether stretching between them, growing taut and brittle.

He ran after the retreating commander, indignant and hurt in equal measure, unwilling to admit to either. Fox neither stopped nor slowed.

"What do you want?" he asked, when Fives grabbed him by the arm and pulled him around to face him, fingers pressing into the soft space at the crook of his elbow.

Fives bit down on the urge to cut him with a sharp retort, and tried not to think of biting down on the vulnerable skin at the base of the commander's neck. "It's been a while, Fox. Maybe we could catch up over a cup of caf or something."

Fox was quiet for a moment, and Fives felt the full intensity of his gaze through the dark of his visor. When the silence lengthened, Fives felt sure he was toying with him. Then Fox sighed.

"Fine – but only for a while. I have paperwork to deliver directly to the Chancellor's office, first thing in the morning."

"I don't expect it'll take that long," Fives muttered.

"Whatever. Follow me."

*

"Where are we going?" asked Fives, leaning a little closer.

"Can't you guess?"

"Hmm, maybe. Perhaps my question should have been why?"

"The catch-up was your suggestion."

"I know, but why are we having it in your quarters?"

Fox sighed. "Because you won't find more tolerable caf anywhere in the district. Believe me, I've tried. Although you're welcome to give it a go."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Good man."

When they reached the COs' quarters after a long trek across the compound and through the twisting corridors of the CorGuard barracks, Fox guided the way to his door. Fives felt a flicker of excitement: he'd never seen the commander's room before – there had never been the chance. There would be an intimacy in seeing Fox's own particular space with Fox's own particular things arranged just how he liked them, few though they'd be; a private space for this self-contained man.

The hatch opened in a whoosh. And with a glance back at Fives, Fox stepped inside.

"Take a seat," he offered, throwing the datapad down on his desk and warming up a small caf machine that looked to have cost almost as many credits as it had to create Fox from scratch. Where in the galaxy had he found the cash to purchase such a thing? Who in the galaxy had let him keep it?

Fives did as he was bid, sinking into one of two seats lined up beneath the table and swivelling around to get a good look at the place. It wasn't anything special: a desk, a bed, a box for spare body gloves and casuals and any small thing a person might think to collect on their travels and hide away from prying eyes. Clones were afforded necessities, little else. But Fives had never known such luxury, this semblance of privacy and freedom, no matter how performative. His every move was observed, whether by circumstance or design.

Then he imagined the commander before him, stumbling into this room at the end of a difficult mission and falling, undisturbed, into this cold bed. How did it feel, to be alone with his thoughts as the tears came – and they surely did, sometimes – without the comfort of his brothers around him?

"How do you take your caf?" Fox asked, pulling Fives out of his own head.

"Huh?"

"Caf," he repeated. "How do you like it?"

Fives shrugged. "I don't, really."

"What?"

"Yeah, I'm not really fond of the stuff."

"But …" Fox sounded incredulous. "This was your idea, remember?"

"I know," said Fives with a grin.

Fox shook his head, and Fives heard him sigh through the helmet's modulator as he put the second mug away, shutting the desk drawer a little harder than necessary. "For fuck's sake."

"So tell me something," Fives began, altogether too pleased with himself; teasing the composed, conscientious commander came with a myriad of health benefits. Fox grunted his assent. "How are you planning to drink the best caf in Galactic City if you're still wearing your bucket?"

Oh, now he could feel Fox glaring at him through the tinted visor. As if to prove a point, he broke the seal and lifted the thing over his head, one eyebrow raised for Fives' benefit, and slammed it down with a hollow thwack. Then he turned away, the tips of his ears staining pink. But not before Fives noticed the angry scar that punctuated his top lip, and the streaks of hair turning grey at his temples.

It had been a long time since they'd last seen each other. A cycle and a half, without so much as a word. It felt longer. Or maybe it was only that so much had shifted.

There'd been an emergency in the Senate District, the representative for the moon of Pantora kidnapped from beneath the noses of the Blue Guard. The situation had devolved into a hostage crisis when the perpetrator had flown into a panic upon being tracked down, with no apparent winning move in sight. Fox had called in all available ARC troopers stationed on Coruscant in a bid to infiltrate the building without casualties. Fives had been among them, still reeling from Echo's death, struggling with too much anger and confusion with nowhere to put it. Between himself, an ARC from the 327th Star Corps, and two from General Kenobi's Attack Battalion, they'd succeeded in releasing the Pantoran representative before any lasting harm had been done. Then Fox's men had swooped in to make their arrest.

The commander had found him after, in the hallways of the kidnapper's fortified base, and thanked him personally for his help. Then, more quietly, said he was sorry to hear about Echo. His words had almost startled Fives to tears. And in the quiet of the corridor, reserved primarily for the use of maintenance droids, Fox had kissed him. It'd been tentative, the pressure light against his lips, and nothing like their first kiss at all.

Fox had worn Phase One armour back then. And he certainly hadn't been showing the first strands of grey at his hairline, nor carrying a scar through his top lip. Fives wanted to ask how he'd got it. Actually, he wanted to touch it.

He settled for sparing the commander his palpable embarrassment – for now – and said, "So how'd you get your hands on this contraption?"

"Oh, this? Uh …" Fox poured a generous measurement of black caf into his mug, then took the chair opposite. He massaged his tired eyes with his free hand. "It was a gift."

"A gift?" Fives scoffed. "No offense, Commander, but who's out here giving us clones gifts?"

"Well, it was more of a donation. A token of thanks."

Token of thanks, eh? The words sounded almost rehearsed to Fives' ears, as if they'd been given to Fox alongside the donation.

"From who?" he asked.

Fox hesitated for just a beat too long before he said, "The senator for Pantora."

"You mean the representative we rescued more than a cycle ago?"

Fox nodded. Fives would swear a faint colour spread across his cheeks, despite the regulated temperature in the barracks. And suddenly it clicked.

The last time they'd seen each other, Fives had felt something in that kiss, something more than the frenzied exploration of the other back on Kamino. It had ignited something in his chest. And he'd assumed Fox had felt it, too. But maybe it was only ever supposed to be a comfort, a moment of softness in a galaxy that felt so much harsher without Echo.

Maybe, by then, Fox's gaze had already been drawn somewhere else.

"I see," Fives said at last.

No, he wasn't a jealous man.

Fox cleared his throat and took a sip from his mug, tapping his foot idly against the floor. "Like I said, it was just a gift."

"Hmmm. How fortunate you're so fond of caf."

"Well, it's not just for me – it's for the CorGuard."

"And you just look after it, right?"

Fox shook his head, eyes cold. "Fuck off, Fives."

"Oh, come on. I think I've earned the right to take the piss."

"I get it. You're angry with me." Fox knocked back the dregs of his drink as if it were a shot of something stronger. When he spoke again, his voice was rough, tired. Fek, Fives needed not to remember how that voice sounded in his ear. "You'd better join the queue."

"Behind …?"

Fox briefly met his questioning look, then turned away. He placed his mug on the desktop with great care.

"Rex still not talking to you?" asked Fives.

"Definitely not talking," Fox said. "Grunted at me just long enough to sign the paperwork. Then he sent me on my way. Can't say I blame him."

Fives had never known his captain to be so short-tempered. He'd never been a man of many words – though one couldn't help but listen when he had something to say – but always he remained the consummate professional. To the point and polite about it, to boot. Since the incident with Commander Tano, however, he hadn't been himself. Rex's particular brand of self-flagellation had him withdrawing into himself even more than usual, and snapping at the heels of unpleasant company.

"I think he blames himself enough for the both of you," Fives said, tapping his fingertips on the desk's top. "He looks back and thinks he should have done more."

"But he blames me most of all," said Fox, shame creeping into his voice. "And why wouldn't he? I didn't listen. Stars, I even liked the Tano girl, but I couldn't see anything beyond the evidence in front of me. Rex told me, kept insisting, that she'd never do something like that. He knew it, and so did Skywalker. But I wanted someone to blame. And I wanted the case closed because it would've reflected well on my team." He hung his head, then mumbled, "And fuck anyone who got in my way."

Fives listened with sympathy, but found he couldn't relate. Umbara had been a wake-up call. He'd pushed back often enough before then, testing the water and unafraid to speak his mind, air his grievances. But he'd realised, on that forsaken planet, that orders were only worth following if you believed them to be right.

"I suppose you blame me, too," Fox continued, when his confession was met with silence. "What must an ARC trooper think of someone like me, blindly following orders to the detriment of others?"

"Well, I guess that depends."

"On?"

"Did you learn from it? Or would you do it again? None of us are saints, Fox – we're soldiers. And we make mistakes, same as the next person. Young teeth in old faces. I think, as a Jedi, Tano would agree that as long as we learn from those mistakes, there's hope."

Fox met his gaze for a moment, his eyes searching – for what, Fives couldn't say. Did he want him to come out and say it, say he didn't judge him, say he forgave him? Fives wouldn't do that. He hadn't been there, of course, with the pressure from above weighing on his shoulders, reputation and squad both on the line. But he'd also seen the look in Rex's eyes …

Then Fox sniffed, and looked away. "Perhaps there's some merit to working with Jedi, after all."

"They have their uses," said Fives with a grin.

It didn't escape his notice that Fox hadn't answered him. He had a feeling that, despite his private quarters and exoplanetary diplomats donating their luxury caf machines, the commander's cage was made of tougher stuff than his own.

"Do you ever take anything seriously?" Fox grumbled.

"Do you ever take anything lightly?" Fives shot back, fast as a plasma bolt. "You're going a little grey around the edges there – wouldn't hurt you to loosen up a little."

Fox frowned, and Fives bit his tongue rather than cave under the temptation to say something about the lines on his forehead, too. Then Fox pushed his mug away and stood, running a gloved hand over the back of his head, fingers ruffling the curls at the nape of his neck. Fives' skin grew warm.

"You are angry with me," Fox said. "Well, guess what? You're in good company. I'm a coward, I don't need you to tell me. And fuck, I'm not making excuses for myself – I'm the one who didn't reply to your messages – but you don't understand the situation."

Fives had a feeling he did. He had a feeling the situation was blue and gold, with a soft voice and a sweet smile. But he said, "I don't care what the situation is, Fox. I didn't have any expectations when I tried to get in contact with you – except that you might've told me, instead of leaving me in the dark."

Fox sighed. "I know. I'm ... I'm sorry."

They fell into silence, the commander with his back to him, to his fear and his guilt. Fives wondered how long he'd been floundering, furiously treading water even as he schooled his features into a mask of indifference.

Fives climbed to his feet, concerned he'd overstayed his welcome. "Look, I was mostly just teasing you," he said, a pebble of regret settling in his stomach; he hadn't handled any of that as well as he could have: allowing his emotions to get the better of him was a rookie mistake. "But I didn't come here to genuinely hurt you. I think it's best I go."

He went to leave. He definitely didn't tarry long enough to give the commander a chance to stop him.

"I missed you, you know."

Fives stopped in his tracks. "Do I need to clean my ears out, or did you just say you miss me?"

"Missed. Past tense."

Fives looked back over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Fox was glaring at him, at odds with the flush of colour across his cheeks.

"And you can wipe that smug look off your face."

Fives did no such thing. "You did, huh?"

"Not often," Fox clarified, a little too vehemently to be convincing. "Occasionally."

"Well, it's only natural."

Fox rolled his eyes.

"So," Fives began, venturing a step closer, "on those rare occasions when you were missing me, what did you do about it?"

Fox scowled, but there was a flash of something hot, not cold, in his eyes.

"C'mon, Fox. We both know your work ethic is second to none. It wouldn't do to lie there all night, tossing and turning and missing me, not when there's a busy day in front of you. So what did you do to get me out of your head?"

Fox held his perfect posture as Fives drew face-to-face with him, so close they were breathing the same air. Fox watched him like a hawk, pupils blown wide.

"Did you think of me," Fives asked, leaning closer, "doing something like this?" He breathed across the skin of the commander's jaw, mouth brushing the stubble of a long rotation, lips finally alighting at the vulnerable place above the collar of his blacks. Fox's breath hitched, his whole body going taut beneath Fives' touch. Fives pulled the collar away from Fox's throat, where his skin smelled of fresh caf and GAR-issue soap, and something deep and herbal Fives couldn't identify. With his other hand he cupped the back of his neck, holding him in place.

"Fives …"

He smiled, finding Fox's pulse with his lips. "Tell me, Commander," he breathed between lingering kisses, fingers trailing lower, "did you touch yourself to this picture?"

Fox groaned, a rumble from low in his throat that had the blood rushing to Fives' cock. And just like that, Fox's body came to life. His head fell back as Fives reached for the maglocs of his codpiece, eyes falling shut. When Fox worked his hands up and under Fives' shirt, the tips of his fingers pressing into his lower back and urging him closer, Fives shuddered and rocked against him, biting down on his neck.

He found himself backed up against the desk, heart stuttering in his ribcage as Fox loomed over him, a firm hand grasping his chin. His eyes were wild things, saturated with desire and longing.

Fives wasn't often speechless, but in that moment, he could think of nothing he wanted to say, only what he wanted to do.

And before he could do any of them, Fox kissed him.

So he hadn't imagined it, after all. It hadn't been just a kiss then, and it wasn't just a kiss now. It was as frenzied as their first, and tender as their last, holding within it too many things left unsaid, opportunities missed, sensations that had Fives losing his head in the maelstrom.

Fox's hands became urgent, grasping at Fives' red shirt and tearing it open down the front. Fives shivered as Fox traced the contours of his chest with desperate fingertips, before he slipped them beneath the collar and dragged the material down and over Fives' shoulders, all without breaking the kiss.

Fives could feel the raised skin of the commander's scar under his lips, and the scratch of new stubble against his chin. Stars, it was dizzying, and it was grounding, and he didn't think he'd ever felt so alive.

And then it was his turn to groan as Fox took his bottom lip between his teeth, holding him there – just like that – while he reached for the waistband of Fives' trousers.

But Fives grabbed his hand. "Not yet," he said, voice thick. Fox allowed his lip to go free. "Not until you've shed some of this."

He started with Fox's gloves. Without looking away from his eyes, he pinched the tip of each finger and tugged at them, bit by bit, until Fox's calloused hands were exposed. The commander's breath caught in his throat.

When he kissed Fox again, he felt as if some invisible barrier had melted away. There was a craving in every touch, every press of his lips, that Fox no longer tried to hide. If that didn't nearly bring Fives to his knees.

"I missed you, too, y'know," he panted between frantic kisses.

And beneath the staccato pulse of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears was the sound of Fox's armour, thudding piece by piece, to the floor.

*

When their gasping breaths evened to a steadier rhythm, Fox rolled onto his back and stared up at the durasteel ceiling. There were words on the tip of his tongue that desperately wanted saying – words he couldn't bring himself to say. Not yet.

Fives lay beside him, sprawled on his stomach with his head buried in his arms, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. Fox's eyes travelled the length of his heavy, languid body, torso rising and falling as his heartbeat slowed. As if in a trance, he ran a hand down the plane of his back. Fives shivered.

"That was …" he started to say.

That was …

That was how it had ended on Kamino, in a storage room off a simulation ring.

Fox and a contingent of his finest had escorted the Jedi Shaak Ti from a roundtrip visit to Coruscant, in place of an injured Commander Thorn. In the aftermath of battle, Tipoca City had been in a state of constant repairs, the only home he'd ever known battered and bruised and solemn.

Sleep had not been his friend.

He'd stumbled across the newly-qualified ARC trooper, running through a series of sims in the middle of the night. The intensity of his self-inflicted training hadn't failed to impress Fox, even as it belied the anger and sadness Fives had been trying to forget; a promotion in the wake of so much death, a step up even as his brothers had fallen, would always feel wrong, curdling in the stomach like bad milk.

Fives had caught him watching, and invited him down to spar. Fox recalled the way he'd taken a fighting stance with his palms up in front of him, Fives with fists aloft and energy he'd needed to exhaust. They'd talked of Kamino, of the friend they called 99, thrown controlled punches, and in the blink of an eye they'd gone tumbling to the floor in a mess of limbs and plastoid, Fives inert and winded by the impact.

"You okay there, trooper?" Fox had asked, breathing hard, his voice unsteady. When Fives hadn't responded, Fox had crawled over to him and raised his arms over his head, opening up his lungs. Maybe his fingers had lingered at Fives' wrists a beat longer than necessary.

When the air had flowed into his chest once more, Fives had nodded. "Just about," he'd said, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You don't mess around, Commander." And something about the tone of his voice had been oh so teasing; it caught in Fox's chest and sent a wave of heat up his neck. Then Fives had pulled free of Fox's grasp, rising up onto his elbows to kiss him on the lips.

Fox had often looked back and wondered if he shouldn't have returned the kiss.

He couldn't quite recall how they'd wound up in the storage room, only the sound of the blast door sealing behind them with a hiss. They'd raced to shed their armour, precious seconds lost and won back again in a tangle of lips and tongues and teeth. Fives' hand had found its way down Fox's blacks and grasped at his cock, eliciting a moan that Fox hadn't had the presence of mind to be ashamed of.

"Shit, are we really doing this?" he'd gasped, fire in his veins as Fives nipped and sucked at his neck.

"I'm game if you are."

He'd taken the ARC trooper up against the wall, one of Fives' legs hitched over the crook of his arm when he'd pressed into him for the first time. Fives had grunted, eyes squeezing shut, his head falling back against durasteel. Then he'd dug his fingers into Fox's hair and the fleshy part of his shoulder, and held on tight.

They hadn't lasted long, too desperate and too frantic, neither holding anything back.

After, they'd collapsed to the floor, breathing ragged and still twitching, Fives straddling Fox's lap. With the beginnings of shame already settling in Fox's stomach, Fives had leaned close and whispered into his ear, "That was …"

But he'd never finished.

"It was what?" Fox asked now.

Fives raised his head, eyes settling on him, and said, "Amazing. It was amazing."

Fox smiled, and tried not to enjoy the way his chest warmed. A mess of damp curls had fallen forward across Fives' forehead, and he ran his fingers through them. Fives closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

"Let's not leave it so long next time," said Fox.

The look of contentment fell from Fives' face, and he frowned. "What about your situation?"

Fox looked away. He didn't know what his situation really was, or what he even wanted it to be. A stolen meeting here, a fleeting kiss there – it was hardly set in stone.

He said as much. "Maybe, when you're back from deployment, we could talk."

Fives raised a sceptical eyebrow, but there was the suggestion of hope in his voice when he said, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know how long I'll be gone," Fives admitted. "The Mid-Rim is in turmoil. It could be months before we're rotated out again."

Fox nodded. He was about to go back to missing him, wondering where in the galaxy he was, how in the galaxy he was. It hurt, sometimes, watching those he cared for shipping out into the unknown, forever wondering if they'd make it back in one piece. Yes, staying behind hurt. "I'll be here," he said, too alive with feeling to be deadpan.

Fives smiled, and closed his eyes. "All right, then."

Fox watched the ARC trooper take a deep breath and sink back down into the bed. How many times had he pictured something like this, Fives sated and naked and sparked out beside him in his rack, close enough to smell the woodsy scent of the product he used in his beard. That night, he would entertain ideas to keep him there.

"So where are they sending you this time," he asked, voice low as he rolled onto his side.

Fives' voice was thick with exertion and sleep fast approaching when he answered. "Ringo Vinda. The Seppies have the whole planet under siege."

"You'll be careful, won't you?"

"You know me, Fox."

"That's not reassuring," he said, thinking of the many files he had access to, and how many of those contained details of this risky plan or that dangerous mission, ARCs always at the centre of each one.

Fives chuckled, head titled just to the side, the shadows of his eyelashes fanned out across his cheekbones.

"Hey, Fives."

"Mmmmm."

Fox reached out and touched the tattoo on his temple. "I like you in red."

⭒

Thank you so much for reading to the end! I had a great time writing these two, the opportunity for some banter and some grumpy Fives was too good an opportunity to pass up. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it ❤️

#fives x fox

[cloneshipping7567]

Strategic Napping

A sweet little sketch for @detestedmuppet

Coming up with strategies together can be tiring, and sometimes you just gotta take a nap on your favourite Captain’s shoulder.

#awww #rex x echo

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 13

Part 13/30

13. "I can't fathom the idea of my life without you in it."

Pairing: Hunter x Crosshair (As requested by LuminousBug on Ao3)

Rating/WC: T/1751

Warnings: None

~~~

“This is what happens when you let a kid call the shots,” Crosshair drawls, arms crossed over his chest as he glares at Hunter.

Hunter rolls his eyes in frustration, glad for his helmet being firmly in place. He and Crosshair have been arguing this entire time, and the sniper is really starting to get on his nerves. “That kid saved your life,” he points out, not bothering to hide his annoyance anymore. “Unlike the Empire, who left you for dead.”

“That’s your problem, Hunter. You take things too personally.” Crosshair steps closer, ignoring the others’ uneasiness. 

And you don’t take things personally enough, he doesn’t say. “They destroyed an entire city,” he says instead. Their home. All of the clones’ home. They left them all for dead, including Crosshair. It feels pretty karking personal. 

“They did what needed to be done,” Crosshair says, leaning into Hunter’s space. “Kamino, regs, the Republic. Their time is over. The Empire will control the entire galaxy. And I’m going to be a part of it.” He shakes his head, and Hunter scoffs openly at him. “Hunter, you made the wrong choice.”

“That’s all you care about?” Hunter finally asks, unable to contain it anymore. “Power? Control? You aren’t important to them. Don’t fool yourself. All you will ever be to them is a number.” 

Crosshair’s chin tilts up, giving away his annoyance. “And what am I to you?” he challenges, the sneer on his lips obvious in his voice. 

“Everything,” Hunter hisses, without missing a beat. 

Crosshair staggers a step backwards at the single word, taken aback. It’s almost satisfying how surprised Cross is, how Hunter could so easily knock him off his game. He stalks off to one of the couches in the far corner of the room.

Fine. Let him sulk. Hunter’s nerves are still fried from the amount of times Crosshair has almost died today. He’s beyond annoyed with the amount of fights they’ve had in the last few hours. 

And, Crosshair is right about one thing: Hunter has no idea how to get them out from this mess.

He turns to look around the room, trying to come up with a plan. He ignores Crosshair and Omega, despite their harsh words to each other, and discusses using the medical capsules as an escape to the surface. 

It takes them a while to figure out how to safely do it, but soon enough he and his brothers are on the surface. Hunter looks down into the water, impatiently waiting for AZ to push Omega’s capsule above the surface. 

“I’m going after AZ!” Omega’s voice suddenly chimes into the comm. 

“Omega, don’t!” Hunter yells, his heart stopping in his chest. Of course she would risk her life to save a droid; it’s just who she is. Why does she have to be so good?

Hunter takes his helmet off and grabs onto the side of his tube, causing Crosshair to shoot him an annoyed look. 

“I don’t see her,” Echo says, worry pitching his voice. 

“I’m going in,” Hunter decides, looking over the side and breathing heavily. He almost jumps, when he sees it out of the corner of his eyes. 

He turns his head to see Crosshair pointing his rifle directly at his face. He looks up at Crosshair, betrayal clearly written across his face. 

He hardly has time to analyze Crosshair’s expression, before he’s shifting the rifle and shooting off a grappling cable. Hunter breathes a deep sigh of relief as it connects to something and starts to reel back in, and leans over the tube. He pulls Omega in, helping her settle. “I’ve got ya,” he mumbles softly, before turning around to raise a brow at Cross. 

Crosshair doesn’t say anything at all, just looks behind him to see Echo, Tech, and Wrecker all aiming their blasters at him in Hunter’s defense. He throws his rifle to Wrecker, who catches it, and sits back down with his arms crossed. 

Hunter pats Omega’s back, helping her cough up the small amount of water she managed to breathe in and catch her breath again. 

Once she’s settled enough, he turns to look at Crosshair once more. He wants to say something. Anything. A simple thank you would be nice right now, but none of the words he can think of seem deep and strong enough to convey what Hunter is feeling. 

Gratitude for saving Omega, yes. But there’s more to it. It makes him feel…something that Crosshair wouldn’t let Hunter dive in after Omega. It makes him feel hopeful that Cross gave Wrecker his rifle-Hunter is sure that signifies something. Some sort of progress. 

And the way Crosshair looked at him, for that millisecond between aiming the rifle at Hunter’s face and aiming it at the water--what was that? What was Cross thinking, what was he feeling? What does it mean?

Hunter thought he had gotten good at getting over Crosshair in these last few months. That he had accepted Crosshair’s absence, had accepted that he needed to move on. That Crosshair didn’t want to be with him anymore, and didn’t even want to be in Hunter’s life anymore. 

“I have a visual on the Marauder,” Tech says suddenly, startling Hunter. He looks back at his and Echo’s pod, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “I suggest we start paddling.”

Hunter looks back at Crosshair once more, wishing he could say something, wishing he knew what he wanted to say. Instead, he turns back around, and starts paddling towards their ship. 

The journey there is long, and the sun has almost completely risen by the time they reach the landing platform. But they make it eventually, and they all take a moment to stand and stare out at the ruin that used to be their home. 

“It’s…all…gone,” Omega says, her voice sad. Hunter walks over to her, putting a comfortning hand on her shoulder.

“We should leave before the Empire’s scouts show up,” Tech suggests, looking to Hunter for approval. Hunter nods once, squeezing Omega’s shoulder. 

“You coming with us?” Wrecker asks, turning to Cross.

Hunter almost scoffs. Of course he is; where else would he go? He doesn’t have a ship other than theirs, and the Empire just tried to kill him. They won’t come back for him. Of course Crosshair is coming with them. 

Except, “None of this changes anything,” Cross says, making Hunter’s breath catch in his throat. 

No. No. He isn’t leaving Crosshair behind again. He isn’t getting back on that ship without Crosshair in tow. Even if it’s kicking and screaming, or limp from a stum blast; Crosshair is leaving this platform on the Marauder with the rest of their batch. 

“You offered us a chance, Crosshair. This is yours,” Hunter says, offering him one more chance. 

“I’ve made my decision,” Crosshair says, turning away from them. 

Hunter crosses his arms over his chest, and listens to his siblings pile onto the ship after accepting Crosshair isn’t coming with them. Omega looks up at Hunter, before looking at Crosshair. She looks back to Hunter and nods once, before following the others onto the ship. 

“What?” Crosshair practically growls, tilting his head over his shoulder to look at Hunter.

Hunter steps closer, and waits for Crosshair to finally give in and turn to face Hunter. “Come with us, Cross,” Hunter says softly.

Crosshair scoffs, but his eyes aren’t cold and closed off like they have been. “I told you, I choose the Empire.”

“Cross,” Hunter says, stepping closer and uncrossing his arms. He’s close enough now that he has to tilt his face up slightly to look the other in the eyes. “Come with us. Come with me.”

Crosshair breathes in a sharp breath, eyes quickly darting between both of Hunter’s. “Why? You have your happy little family. Why are you being so persistent?”

Hunter hums softly, keeping eye contact despite how much he wants to curl in on himself and refuse to let Crosshair ever see him as vulnerable as he’s about to be again. The past several times have proven that Crosshair will hurt Hunter again, that his vulnerability will be unwelcome. 

But he can’t expect Crosshair to sacrifice everything while he keeps all his cards close to his chest. So he takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a controlled sigh. “Because I’ve never stopped loving you.” Crosshair’s eyes go wide, and his lips part in shock. Hunter pushes through. “Because I think about you all the time, and I miss you. Because I’m tired of waiting for you to come back on your own. Because I can’t fathom the idea of my life without you in it. I love you.”

Crosshair blinks, eyes wide. “Hunter…”

Hunter reaches one hand up to cup the back of Crosshair’s neck, the motion familiar and comforting even after all this time. Crosshair’s hands automatically land in their practiced places, one on Hunter’s hip and the other on the place where his neck meets his shoulder. Hunter hums softly, leaning forward so their lips are almost touching. “Cross,” Hunter whispers, eyes flicking between his eyes and lips. 

Crosshair swallows thickly before connecting their lips with a soft press forward. It’s chaste at first, simply testing the waters. 

But Hunter has missed Crosshair, and they both almost died about fives times each today, and he’s tired of fighting, and of keeping himself at a safe distance. He wants to be reckless, he wants to risk it all, he wants to take a leap of faith and land safely in his former lover’s arms.

He smiles into the kiss, deepening it enough to get the point of everything he can’t find the words to say without pushing too far. It feels like coming home in a way nothing else has ever been able to make him feel. 

Crosshair pulls away first, breathless, looking at Hunter with wonder in his eyes. “Hunter.”

“Come with me,” Hunter whispers, squeezing the back of Crosshair’s neck lightly. “I miss you. I love you. Come with me.”

Crosshair leans in and connects their lips again, just a soft touch of their lips, before he steps back. “Okay,” he says, looking towards the ship where their team is very unsubtly peeking around the entrance to the ship. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

Hunter smiles, taking Crosshair’s hand and turning towards the ship himself. He rolls his eyes at the expressions on their faces, leading Crosshair back to their ship. To whatever future awaits them.

#hunter x crosshair #cloneshipping #my writing