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kaasknot · 4 years

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Commander Fox Week Day 7: Coma

Teen and Up

Fox/Fives, Rex, Clonecest, angst, Fixit fic

@loving-fox-hours

***

Fox’s bucket fell from nerveless fingers. He walked forward, scarce able to believe his eyes. The bacta tank was crammed into the corner of a narrow medbay—illicit, off-books, likely unlicensed; he’d pay credits he didn’t have that it served one of the local gangs. Maybe several of them. He didn’t care. Right now the whole of his attention was reserved for the clone bobbing gently in off-brand bacta, the hole in his chest livid in the eerie blue light, and the tattooed “5” over his temple proof of life. Fox staggered the last meter and pressed his hands against the transparisteel.

“Fives,” he breathed. He rested his forehead against the tank. “How?”

“General Kenobi knew some people, and they knew some people,” the 501st captain—Rex, his name was Rex—said from behind him. “General Skywalker kept him alive after your shocktroopers cleared out, and we managed to get him into bacta in time.”

Fox stared at the gash across Fives’s chest. The muscle was mostly knitted shut, but the skin was still healing. Who the fuck knew what kind of moonshine bacta cocktail they had him in. He whirled around. “Why isn’t he in a GAR facility!”

Rex stood unmoved. “He tried to assassinate the Chancellor. So I hear.”

That drew Fox up short. He’d said as much to himself over the past week; said it so many times it had almost lost meaning. He’d made the right call; he’d gone over it a dozen times in his head, even checked his helmet footage to make sure he wasn’t rewriting it in his memory, but it stayed the same: Fives had pulled a blaster on them and ignored direct orders to stand down.

Rex was right. No GAR facility would take him, unless it would be for immediate transport to Kamino for reconditioning. Maybe to a penal colony, if they felt generous. If not outright destruction.

He turned back to the tank, his fingers spread wide to try and touch Fives through the glass. “Why didn’t you listen?” he said quietly.

“Commander, you should probably know. The doc here ran a blood test before they dunked him, and he came up positive for voladizam.”

Fox stared up at Fives’s sleeping face, half-covered by the oxygen mask. “I don’t know it.”

“Apparently they give it to psych patients. Side effects can include paranoia, aggression, and anxiety if the dosing isn’t done right.”

Fox forced himself to look away, frowning at Rex. “Are you saying he was drugged?”

The mutie captain stood at ease, his thumbs tucked in his belt. He watched Fox carefully. “There’s a lot of unanswered questions floating around. Kamino won’t let us look into their files on the biochips. The helmet footage was erased from Fives’s armor; he didn’t do it, I didn’t do it. We were told his aggression and paranoia was caused by the removal of his chip, but then his blood tests positive for psych drugs?” He shook his head, looking past Fox to the body of his trooper bobbing in the tank. “I’m saying I’ve got some suspicions, Commander.”

Fox turned back to the tank. To Fives. They hadn’t seen each other in over three months, since the last time Fives had been called to CLONINT for a briefing. He’d only been on-planet for a single night; barely enough for Fox to reacquaint himself with the feeling of Fives’s hands on his skin.

And then, a week ago, Fox had been sent to apprehend a rogue ARC trooper, and his world had tilted sideways down the garbage chute.

For now, Fives was sleeping. But eventually, he would wake up. And when he did, Fox had some questions he wanted answered. Questions he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answers to.

He bent to pick up his helmet. “Thank you for showing me, Captain,” he said, putting it back on his head. “I believe I have some investigating to do.”

#CommanderFoxWeek #my fic #clonecest #fox #fives #rex #foxives #fixit fic #angst #coma

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someawkwardprose · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox/Quinlan Vos, CC-2224 | Cody & CC-1010 | Fox, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-1010 | Fox, Quinlan Vos, CC-2224 | Cody Additional Tags: Dancing, Weddings, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Getting Together, Commander Fox Week Summary:

In which Fox learns to dance, Quinlan fails at wooing, and Cody might be older than Rex, but he’s Fox’s baby brother. Oh, and there’s a wedding.

my sole contribution to @loving-fox-hours‘ fox week, for the prompt: dancing.

#commander fox #quinlan vos #vox #fox x quinlan #commander fox week #sw: tcw #my writing #commanderfoxweek

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rogueclonesftw · 4 years

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Commander Fox Week: Day 3 - Solitude/Cuddles

@loving-fox-hours

Clone Cadet Cuddle Time

Fox liked his solitude. He had literally millions of brothers, all being watched almost every second of every day as they trained. He took his alone time where he could get it and was grateful for the quiet.

If he was lucky he could get five minutes to himself, most days. Today it didn't look like he was lucky.

"Fox'ika!"

Fox sighed heavily. "You know I'm older than you."

"Fox'ika," the brother whined, drawing out all the vowels. It was one of the ones from Wolffe's batch, the ones that were attached at the hip. Usually, he was better at telling them apart, but he couldn't actually see either of them.

It was quite the pile on the floor, honestly, it was kind of impressive. All he could see of the two whiny brats were some legs that Wolffe, disgruntled as ever, was trapped under. He spotted four of the 2220's, Ponds, and Bly. Presumably, his own batchmates were in there somewhere, since it was his floor they'd colonised.

An arm snaked out of the mess and hooked around his ankle, dragging him to the ground. He landed heavily and the brother beneath gave a loud huff as the air was knocked out of him.

"Fox, your elbow is in my spleen," someone groaned, deeply pained.

Fox shifted, shoving whoever he managed to put his hands on until they moved over to make room. Eventually he got comfortable, his head resting on Sonny's shoulder. The blond sighed happily. As soon as he was settled someone kidnapped his legs. Ah, there were his batchmates.

On his other side, Cody looked a little... trapped.

"You good there, Codes?" Fox asked.

"I don't know which of these limbs are mine and I'm too afraid to ask."

"Hmm. Have fun with that," Fox replied, turning his head to fit more comfortably against his brother. He closed his eyes.

Maybe he didn't need his solitude today after all.

#CommanderFoxWeek #commander fox week #zay writes #commander fox #and various other assorted clones

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loving-fox-hours · 3 years

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The time has come!

After the lovely time we all had here with the last Fox Week, thanks to me deciding that the middle of the night is a good time to randomly make an event post, this blog is taking a more democratic approach to figure out the prompts!

You can vote here:

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfAu7Eb9VG_W1A0pFepeuvNkt8jvGzQx2dk7zYhJLwald_QYA/viewform?usp=sf_link

(Or you should be able to if I did everything right. If problems occur please let me know, yes?)

#commanderfoxweek2021 #CommanderFoxWeek #Prompts #commander fox #coruscant guard #thanks for all the submissions

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forcesensitivebantha · 4 years

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fox week 2020 day 1: dancing @loving-fox-hours

do you have any idea how much sheer strength pointe dancing takes??? freaking blew my mind. Excellent for your core muscles though.

#commander fox #commanderfoxweek #tcw #the clone wars #swtcw #star wars the clone wars #kira these biceps are to target you specifically #tristans art boogaloo

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starcrab6673 · 4 years

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Fox Week: Day 1: mind control

@loving-fox-hours uwu

Fox wakes up warm, wrapped in another person’s limbs. He feels like he’s been sleeping for a while, and his sleep-adled brain is slow on the uptake. The breathing pattern suggests its Kot’ika though, so Fox doesn’t panic. Besides, how often does he get to see Cody? So he hums, nuzzling into his little brother’s chest. When did Cody get in anyway? Fox doesn’t-

Fox doesn’t remember.

He lurches out of bed, wide awake as he fumbles for his chrono. The screen lights up, showing the date. The 12th of Nelona, Centaxday.

Shit.

Fox scrubbed a hand down his face, sighing as he leaned back against his end table. Three whole days. He lost three whole days this time. New record, he jokes internally. His periods of losing time... His memory blanks have been getting longer and longer, lasting for hours, now days. How much time until it’s weeks? Months? Years?

There’s a rustling from the bed, causing Fox to reach for a blaster that wasn’t there, before Cody’s bleary face peaks over the bed. The younger vod glares at Fox, yawning as he smacks him on the head. “Get back in bed,” Cody huffs, before flopping back down. It’s practiced eas, the continued hiding of his anxiety and fear, that allows him to stand, ruffle Cody’s hair, and press an affectionate kiss to his little brother’s head. Cody groans, smacking at him again, but Fox just repeats the gesture, cackling as he backs away this time. He knew he should see a medic about the blackouts... but what was he supposed to do? All that remained after the fact were reports or... things moved that he doesn’t remember moving. And he always knows where things are, it makes it easier for him to do his job. Glancing at the clock, reveals ten minutes later than he remembers, and now there’s a cup of Caff in his hand. Shit. Leaning against the counter, he takes a steady breath in, letting it out slowly even as the caff cools.

“Are you alright?” Cody asks from the doorway, adorably wrapped in the blanket from Fox’s bed.

What’s he supposed to say? It’s great having you here, but I don’t seem to remember how or when the kriff you got here. Also this isn’t the first time I’ve missed time, and I’m really starting to worry. No, he couldn’t say any of that. Cody needed him, Fox couldn’t rely on his little brother, especially when he needed to be the one who was steady, dependable.

So he raised his cup to his mouth, ignoring his shaking hands as he responded, “Yes, I’m alright.”

#commanderfoxweek #the writings of the crab #fox weeks #the crab writes #commander fox #commander cody #mind control/losing time #i know this is prolly shit and NOT even close to the prompt but #what ever

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jate-kara · 4 years

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in the woods somewhere | on AO3

Fox remembers the alarm. He doesn't remember the impact. Kenobi's eyes are tinted gold.

Some powers are best left alone.

Trigger warnings: horror, body horror, blood, violence

I crammed the rest of the Commander Fox Week prompts into one fic (animal transformation, solitude, scars, touch-starved, magic, tattoos) and then finished it late. @loving-fox-hours

He remembers the alarm.

He doesn’t remember the impact.

Slowly, Fox lifts his head. The cabin is twisted, turned over on itself. What used to be the shuttle’s cockpit has been half-sheared from the body of the ship and now dangles precariously from a single straining strand. There’s a choking haze hanging over his vision. He blinks against it, once, again. It stays.

Smoke.

Fox eases himself up on an elbow. His helmet is gone, lost to oblivion. His head throbs, but there’s no shooting pain in his back or legs. His chestplate is intact. He takes a shuddery breath. Good. Still mobile. That’s good. When whatever shot them down comes to finish them off, he’ll be able to do his job. Fight. Protect. Guard.

Guard.

He jolts violently. “General Kenobi,” Fox croaks, clawing at the wall until his hand finds purchase and he can use the hold to pull himself upright. “General Kenobi!”

There’s no answer. Fox mutters a vile curse and begins picking his way through the wreckage. It’s still warm, seething heat. He couldn’t have been out long.

“Kenobi,” Fox calls again. This time, he gets a low cry.

Kenobi is pinned beneath a bulkhead. His hair is plastered to his forehead, slick with sweat and blood. There’s a wild panic in his eyes. He struggles vainly against the oppressive weight.

“Easy, General,” Fox says, and grasps the bulkhead. Kenobi doesn’t have the leverage to dislodge it from his position; Fox can slide it along, inch by struggling inch, until Kenobi is free. As soon as the durasteel sheet separates from his chest, Kenobi crawls out, scrambling desperately for a few feet before the burst of adrenaline dissipates and he’s forced to stop.

He collapses.

Fox casts his gaze across the debris. The shuttle is stocked with medical supplies, but those have been long lost to the chaos and the disarray. There’s nothing to patch Kenobi up with. Fox grits his teeth.

Cody’s going to have his head.

[keep reading]

#the clone wars #tcw #commander fox #commanderfoxweek #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #clone wars #commander fox week #my writing #the title is just a hozier song #that's it. the hozier song is the whole reason i wrote this.#blame hozier #the force is a parasite

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lukewhitesuns · 4 years

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Day 5: Touch-Starved

*shows up to the challenge five days late with a really obscure gen dynamic and a loose reading of the prompt*

@loving-fox-hours

tw: child soldiers, what initially looks like a suicide attempt, self-hatred

(AO3)

There's a youngling perched on the roof of the Galactic Museum, and Fox is exhausted.

No one reported this. Fox happened to be walking back to the barracks after a thirty-six hour shift, glancing up at exactly the right moment to spot a child idly dangling their legs over the side of the building, some ten stories up. Which means this is now his problem.

Lucky him.

What's one more cut away at his sanity? He doesn't need sleep; after what he did to Fives, he doesn't deserve it, either.

Still, he seethes as he stalks toward the building.

People refuse to behave on this kriffing planet. Everyone always has to race illegal circuits, or drunkenly brawl with each other, or cause lasting property damage for no other reason than they were bored. On the more excruciating days, there's even some explosions, attempted assassinations, and bounty hunters wreaking havoc. And who can forget the time a giant beast destroyed half of the upper city? Because that's definitely something Fox could prepare for. That was a fun experience.

Finding people where they're not supposed to be is tame by comparison, but it's still a waste of his already limited time. This kriffing kid, when he drags them out of here—

It's nearly nighttime, so the museum is closed, but there are still a few staff members loitering about. He barges in after the door gives easily.

"The roof," he says to the nearest guard. It's meant as an order, but resembles a sigh more than anything else since he no longer has the energy to slip into a commanding voice.

The man stutters a moment, then gathers himself enough to point. Fox is already moving. Too slow; he saw the lift himself. How did the Republic survive without the clones as long as it did?

He presses the button for the roof, and swipes his pass without even glancing at the access screen that pops up. Fifteen seconds later, he's stalking out onto the roof and directly toward the youngling's back with single-minded determination. It's past both their bedtimes, and Fox still has a mountain of paperwork in his office, and his patience was spent at least six hours ago. He's obviously not going to hurt the kid, but he's not past ordering their ass off the roof as rudely as possible.

As he approaches, the kid whips around, eyes widening. Fox does a split-second survey: male, redhead, approximately the age of a six-year-old brother, weighs almost nothing. Another problem: the robes, the braid in his hair, and the lightsaber clipped to his belt. He's a Jedi youngling, meaning Fox's job is now that much harder.

"Listen, I can explain—" a young, high voice begins nervously, once he's almost reached him.

Fox doesn't slow down until he's nearly level with the kid, centimeters away from the ledge, looming over him, arms across his chest. "Get. Up."

The boy stiffens, but doesn't otherwise move. His eyes are glued to where his legs are still kicking out over the edge.

"I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I couldn't stay there!" He bursts out. His voice wobbles at the end, and dread immediately settles heavy in Fox's chest.

Haar'chak, it's going to be one of those.

Why couldn't the kid just be a truant like the rest of them?

Who is he kidding, he should've realized what he was in for the moment he saw the lightsaber.

Resigned to his fate, Fox knows he has to tread very slowly with this. He loosens the intimidating posture and asks with a small sigh, "Where?"

"Th-the temple," he answers, as expected. "I don't—I can't—"

Please don't cry, please don't cry, he really doesn't know what to do with a crying kid and he's so tired right now.

To his guilty relief, after another moment the boy draws in a deep breath and straightens his posture. He glances up at Fox with embarrassment plain on his face, mouth open as though to say something, but then his expression shifts into one of surprise, then curiosity, then hesitance. His stare seems to pierce directly though his armor and trap him there.

Apart from Tano and Offee, who were both older and under arrest at the time, he has no experience with Jedi children. Are they all this strange?

When he speaks again, his voice is unnaturally even with forced calm. Still holding back tears, most likely. "You're a clone."

Fox doesn't see how this relates to dangling himself off a roof at dusk, but if it keeps him calm, there's no harm in answering. "Yes."

He frowns, digesting this, then tilts his head slightly. "So...did you want to go to war?"

The question is said cautiously, but still hits with the force of a gut punch, and is so random that for a long moment all Fox can do is stare. "What?"

"Did you want to go to the war?" he repeats. "Fight for the Republic on the front lines and everything?"

Is he mocking him for being stationed on Coruscant? His tone implies genuine curiosity, but he could be wrong. Either way, Fox has a job to do, and it gives him a helpful delay on such a loaded question.

"Here's the deal. I'll answer your question if you move away from the edge there." He knows there's no chance he'll be able to wrestle a Jedi child away from somewhere if they don't want to move, so he has to be diplomatic about this. As a peace offering, he degrades himself to sitting down on the rooftop a few meters away, despite the protests of his armor, and watches the kid expectantly.

The boy frowns at him, frowns down at the edge, then frowns at him again. "I can catch myself if I fall, you know," he says slowly.

But if he falls and he dies, that's on Fox. He doesn't say that, though. Instead he asks mildly, "Have you ever done it before?"

"Well, no, but I've practiced catching my friends when they fell off the climbing course. It can't be that much different."

Fox does not have time for this. "Sit here. Now."

Another round of staring, and the boy finally sighs and relents. "Fine." He plops down in front of Fox with none of the Jedi's renowned grace. "I'm Cal, by the way."

"Fox."

"That's a nice name," Cal replies, and despite it being the same rote response Fox receives every time he tells a nat-born his name, he's yet again struck by Cal's sincerity when he says it. "I never saw a fox before. Guess now I have." He grins sheepishly at Fox, as though expecting an eye roll behind his bucket; Fox sits there awkwardly, still at a loss of what to do or say, especially when the kid's gone from nearly crying to smiling in under two minutes. And people rarely ever smile at him, so this is disconcerting.

"So you said you'd answer my question..."

Right. That. He did say that, didn't he.

Is he actually going to confess this to a random child? He supposes he has to, since this is somehow important to why Cal was up here in the first place.

Fox chooses his words carefully. "I did want to go to the war. I'm a commander—commander of the Coruscant Guard, now, but my batchmates and I were all born to serve on the front lines, alongside Jedi Generals. It's in my genes. But someone was needed here, too, protecting the home front. My duty is to the Republic above all else, so I serve where I am needed. Which is here."

That's what he convinces himself to keep going, anyway, although lately Fox wonders if any of it was worth it.

Cal's expression turns melancholy again. While Fox was speaking, he tucked his knees under his chin and wrapped his arms around them. "I don't want to go. I'm twelve, and I'm a commander too." Freeing one arm, he gives an sloppy salute as his lips twist in a bitter smile. "Commander Kestis of the 13th Battalion, at your service. I ship out the day after tomorrow."

Fox stares. And stares. And doesn't say anything.

Then he makes a decision. He takes off his bucket. He never takes off his bucket, and says as much to Cal.

"Then why did you—?"

Because there's something poisoning the Galactic Republic, and I can finally admit it to myself, and suddenly I'm suffocating. Children going to war, brothers killing brothers, nothing ever changing. This is not what I was made for. But who can I even tell? What can I even do?

"Because you need to look at my face when I tell you this."

"Okay..." Cal says, bemused.

Fox takes a deep breath and forces himself to meet Cal's eyes unblinkingly, pushing as much gravitas as he can muster into both his voice and his expression. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

His own words twist his stomach into knots. Because Cal still has time. He still has a modicum of freedom left, and Fox realizes he wants the kid to survive, and not become what he's become. Fox is a brother-killer now. He's less than nothing, and still, he works himself to the bone for the duty he swore himself to as a youngling. He's trapped by the war, and he can't escape. He never had that option.

The exact meaning of his words confuse him, too. What is he saying? Is he offering to help Cal escape, if the reason he's up here is because he ran away? Or is it because he wants to prevent another senseless death, so soon after being the cause of one? Cal may be a Jedi, but he's so young. Even the most skilled Jedi masters have fallen in this war, so sending one with barely any experience seems rather like sending someone to be slaughtered.

This isn't what he expected to happen at all on this roof. He's talking to a kid he just met, trying to offer advice when, as Thorn puts it, he can barely hold himself together.

"No, I..." Cal hesitates. "I'm sure if I begged, they wouldn't make me. But I have to. It's my duty to the Republic. Like you said with your job," he adds, gesturing at him vaguely.

That was not what Fox meant. He opens his mouth to object, but Cal's already barreled ahead, speaking so fast the words almost tumble over each other.

"The youngest person they sent 'til now was fourteen, and they had arguments about her all the time—though Jedi arguments are more like 'who can be more passive-aggressive' competitions. They really don't want to send us, but there are so few of us left...it was just a calculation, I guess. Even though I'm young, I'm really good. That isn't even me trying to be mean to my crèchemates or anything, they're not bad Jedi at all, it's just that I've always had more of a grasp on the Force than some people. And I'm psychometric, which is when I can touch something and see things that have happened with it in the past."

"Like Vos." Fox scowls at the mere thought of him. He and this kid couldn't be any more different.

Cal narrows his eyes for a moment. "Yeah, like him, although he's not my master...anyway, I guess I'm saying...sending me is a better choice to end the war faster. The sooner we end the war, the sooner we can go back to being actual peacekeepers. At least that last part's what Caleb says. He's also going the day after tomorrow." He sighs and stares at his hands. "But I still don't want to go, even if I have to. I freaked out this afternoon and had to go somewhere a lot quieter to think. Which is why you found me here."

"Makes sense," Fox says, processing. That sounds like a reasonable reaction for a scared kid, actually. "You still plan to go, then?"

Cal hesitates, then nods. Fox's heart sinks, but he doesn't know what more to say. His mind's still reeling; he just learned more about the Jedi Order in a quarter hour than he ever learned about the Senate in two and a half years, and he has no idea what to do with the information.

"Well, you'll need to be well-rested then," Fox says after another moment, and giving exaggerated glance to the sky.

Night has fallen, and the sky is completely black with the pollution blanketing the stars. The buildings provide enough light to see, but sometimes Fox does wonder what the center of the galaxy looks like from the surface of a planet with an unencumbered view. If it's any different from the sparse pinpricks he saw from Kamino the few days there wasn't a torrential rainstorm.

He puts his bucket back on, stands, and beckons. "Coruscant's its own war zone sometimes, and trust me, speaking from experience, you'll need every minute you can get. Let's go. I'm legally obligated to return you to the temple."

Cal groans, but thankfully, stands and follows after Fox. “I have been here a long time, I guess. Honestly, I'm surprised Master Tapal hasn't sent after me. Maybe he just thinks I've been meditating in the 'Fountains. That's what we call the Room of a Thousand Fountains."

Since the museum lies just outside the Senate District, the walk is short. If Cal wanted to hide, he didn't do a very good job. Cal chatters away the entire time about everything but the war, clearly trying to keep his mind off it as long as he can. Fox indulges him, although it's not like he can get a word in edgewide regardless.

They're at the steps of the temple when Cal abruptly stops dead in his tracks.

"Cal?"

A questioning look to his side—stars, the kid barely reaches his waist—Cal appears lost in thought.

He's so busy trying to figure out what happened that at first he doesn't even process that the blur that crashes into him with superhuman speed a second later is Cal. When he does, he freezes, glancing down at the boy, who has wrapped both of his arms around his armor and is—inexplicably, given how small he is—squeezing hard enough that Fox can feel the warmth even through the plastoid. Either it's Jedi thing, or else Fox has finally, officially lost his mind.

Gently, he rests one hand on Cal's back to acknowledge the hug. He's too nervous to do anything more, partly because he doesn't want to...break him or anything, and partly because if he's too stunned to move.

When was the last time he was touched in a way that wasn't malicious? Months since he'd had a hug from his closer brothers because their sleep schedules hardly coincided anymore, and never, by a nat-born, because why would anyone ever hug a clone?

He'd almost forgotten what it feels like.

He's doesn't deserve it.

"Thanks," Cal mumbles, face pressed half into his armor.

"What for?" Because he has no idea. "I didn't do anything."

Cal pulls back and beams up at him. "Yes you did. You reminded me I still have a choice."

Even if he picked the choice he doesn't want? Even if he barely said anything to him? Why does he deserve a hug from a kid that just met him, who would probably hate him if he knew what he's done?

"And you were really nice and didn't make me feel dumb or anything," he continues, oblivious to the turmoil in Fox's head.

Children are kind without reason, and to people who don't deserve it, but Fox realizes he's still glad that this strange kid thought he was worth a hug.

Cal starts to move away, waving a little at him. "Bye, Fox. Next time I'm on Coruscant for leave I'll come say hi."

"Bye, Cal."

He turns around again a few steps up. "And don't worry, I didn't get any memories off the armor. Big parts of clothes usually count as a part of the person, for some reason, and people aren't objects."

Fox watches his form disappear into the temple and tries to convince himself he did everything he could. That Cal will actually survive to make it back to Coruscant. He hopes he will, but he knows as well as anyone that there's no guarantees. For all he knows, this is the first and last time he'll ever see him.

The next morning, after a miraculously uninterrupted sleep, Fox wakes with a newfound determination. The guilt remains, but it's muted. No longer consuming his entire existence. Now he has a plan.

He has to take his own advice. He may not have been given a choice to begin with, but now he has one because of Fives. Ignore the warnings, or listen. He's a person, not an object, and he shouldn't have something in his brain tagging him like glorified inventory.

The chip is coming out.

#commanderfoxweek #commander fox #cal kestis #my writing #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #jedi fallen order #jfo #this is probably horrible but i tried okay

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sharkbait-writes · 4 years

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Take me into your loving arms

Fox-Week, day #5 Touch-Starved/Hobbies

Title from Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran

@loving-fox-hours

It was dark. The only light in the room came from a table lamp, the blinds and door closed tight. The lamp shone on the table and made a shadow appear behind the person bent over it.

It was quiet. No outside noises passed through the thick door or the shut windows overlooking the coruscanti night. The only sound was coming from the ticking chrono and lamp, as well as the one person in the room. Tapping on screens, writing something on flimsi, the occasional shuffling of flimsi or foot beating a rhythm on the floor.

It was peaceful, but inside Commander Fox’ head it was as loud as a thunderstorm.

He had been working on flimsiwork since before midnight. Although he had already finished his own, the chancellors -that he oh-so-gratefully had handed off to Fox- was more important and complicated than originally thought, which was why he was still on it. Normally he would have stopped by now, but the flimsiwork had to be ready by 0800 sharp. So, Fox gracefully offered up his few, precious hours of sleep, to once again save Coruscant.

At least he only had ten more documents to go through.

Groaning, he raised his head and had to blink furiously when he looked right into the lamp, too bright for the late hour.

Speaking of late hour, Fox turned his head to look at the chrono positioned next to the lamp to look at the time.

04:39

It was karking 04:39. Fox had been doing flimsiwork for more than five hours.

He wanted to cry.

Instead, he bonked his head down on his table and let out a long and loud groan, similar to a sob, and squeezed his eyes shut. Still, a few tears escaped.

Taking in a few deep breaths, he looked back up at the chrono.

04:40

Oh for-

Exhaling harshly and closing his eyes in frustration, Fox took in another deep breath. He then opened his eyes and breathed out slowly at the same time.

Time for those last ten documents.

He worked through them diligently, but eventually, he was done.

By then it was 05:10.

But he was still not finished.

Fox stood up and heard a satisfying crack in his back. Rolling his shoulders and neck helped losing some of the tenseness gathered there.

He sorted the chancellors flimsiwork into the right order needed and then walked out of his office to get to the chancellors, opened it and put the flimsiwork down on the table. Already turning to get out of the office and closing the door, he stopped. Then walked up to the big windows acting as one wall. When Fox looked out, he overlooked a good portion of the coruscanti senator district, twinkling in the night. It was peaceful, the population there still sleeping, but a few unfortunate souls already had to get up or were outside. Some of the lower grounds of Coruscant, however, were still alive and alight. Had been the entire night. Like always.

And just like always, Fox wished he were down there instead of up here.

Focusing on his reflection, Fox saw how exhausted he really was. His curly hair stuck up ridiculously in all directions after he’d went through them with his fingers and tried to pull them out because of his frustrations. His skin unhealthily pale instead of its warm brown. The hollow of his cheeks and eyes only accentuated the shadows on his face. Somehow, his impossibly large eyebags had only gotten bigger.

He looked like a ghost and felt like one too.

Sighting deeply, he dragged himself back to his own office.

He was grateful he didn’t come across any guards patrolling. Concerned brothers was the last thing he needed, especially if it was because of him.

Although his unbelievably uncomfortable chair was the worst possible place for it, he was about ready to collapse in it, and stumbled into the room to do exactly that.

And froze immediately.

Everything was the same as he had left it. He was wearing his armour, but he had left his bucket on one side of the table. Opposite of it was the lamp, still shining annoyingly bright light into the room, and the ticking chrono, the still empty coffee machine next to his table. The windows and blinds were still closed. The chair he had previously occupied is still in its askew position and his own flimsiwork was stacked into one tower on the middle of the table. Even the two visitor chairs in front of the table were in the position Thorn had left them hours ago.

Everything was the same as he had left it.

Except for one thing.

Sprawled in one of the guest chairs sat Quinlan Vos, professional pain Fox’ shebs, twiddling his fingers together and looking around the small office nervously.

The moment he realized Fox had come through the door, he stopped fidgeting immediately and looked up at Fox, who was staring right back at him.

Breaking the silence that grew between them, Quinlan quickly stood up and cleared his throat, wanting to say something.

But Fox beat him to it.

“What are you doing here?”, he asked it confused, the question only amplified by his dumbstruck and slightly worried expression.

Quinlan only smiled placidly at Fox and walked up to him, grabbing one of his hands. He closed the door behind them and lead Fox into the middle of the room.

“I wanted to surprise you”, Quinlan shrugged and smirked at him.

“Watch and listen”, he added in a low tone and let go of Fox’ hand.

As he turned around, Fox reached back out for him, but quickly lowered his hand against his chest, when he saw him walking behind his table.

Carefully Quinlan put the stack of flimsi out of the way so he could set up a machine, originally hidden under the table.

An old phonograph. A really old one, by the looks of it.

Confused, Fox sidled up to the record player.

“Where did you get this?”

Quinlan had his back turned to him while he opened the blinds a bit. Through the slits shone a few rays of early sunlight, drowning the room in a variety of red, yellow and pink tones.

He then turned around, put out the lamp and a disc on the turntable.

“Lower Coruscant. Now, come on!”

He jogged excitedly around the table and Fox and pulled the visitor chairs to the sides.

There was now a significantly empty place in the middle of his office. Suspicious.

Quinlan turned around giddily, took a hold of Fox’ hands once again and lead him into the middle of the room.

He pulled Fox in closer to touch their foreheads together and closed his eyes.

Not having quite caught up to what was about to happen, it caught Fox by surprise when music slowly started to flow out of the phonograph.

In tune with the slow and melodic tunes, Quinlan started swaying.

And with him, Fox as well.

At the same time as the singer started singing, Quinlan started humming.

It took Fox a moment to figure out how Quinlan knew exactly what came next, but when he did, he felt himself melting and smiling lovingly, his shocked expression melting into a smitten one.

It was the same song they danced to the first time ever. Undercover, they had to dance at a wedding.

The memory was one of Fox’ fondest.

Fox finally closed his eyes.

Kriff, how absolutely in love he was with this jedi. His jetii.

They spent so much time together, Fox had no problem guiding his hands to Quinlan’s face and capturing his cheeks, all the while his eyes were closed.

Since Quinlan now had his own empty, he looped them around Fox’ waist and pulled him even closer.

The song ended.

But instead of stopping altogether, it started anew.

Fox’ smile deepened at that.

Both still swaying to the music and their eyes closed, they lived in their own little world, with them and only them in it.

Normally, Fox didn’t like to dance. Don’t understand him wrong, when he was younger, he’d often liked to dance with his vode, but then the war had started, he didn’t get to see them a lot anymore and got swarmed in duties. The only time he really got to dance was when he was free of anything, which happened less and less and mostly when he was alone. So, he didn’t really dance anymore. Never mind the fact that the most dances he saw now are from formal events, where he could never enjoy anything.

So, Fox didn’t like to dance.

But this was Quinlan. His cyar’ika.

The person he could honestly see himself loving forever.

And he did always like slow moments with Quinlan when it was just them and nobody else. Especially dancing, however rare those times were. Even if he shouldn’t.

It was one of his guilty pleasures, you could say.

So, Fox let it be. They were alone after all.

No calls or people barging in.

He will enjoy this.

Which is why he did something he rarely did anymore but liked doing anyway.

He didn’t know all the words, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.

Fox started singing.

By this time, the sun had risen quite a bit, the light enveloping the two of them is more yellow and white instead of red and pink.

And yet, as Fox opened his eyes and looked at Quinlan’s peaceful and fond expression, he had never seen anything more stunning.

They never said it to each other, but they both knew the others feelings as well as their own. The love they felt for each other was never said outright but was felt through all their little gestures and smiles, stolen glances and kisses.

Fox had never wanted to say it more than now.

So, he said it in the only way he knew how to in this moment.

He weaved his words of love into the song. Wanted to make his jetii feel them as strongly as Fox did.

The same jedi who now looked at him surprised, but wholly enamoured. The corners of his mouth quirking up, his eyes shone with love and happiness.

Fox looked into the warm brown eyes as he sang the words with as much emotion as he could muster, his voice threatening to break because of it.

It was as if he was admitting a dangerous secret, whispering words of love that only they knew of into the air between them, as Quinlan soaked them up.

Eventually he was lacking behind the song too much to continue any further and had to stop, muttered the last few words as he lost himself in the warm and loving gaze of the man he loved with all his heart.

Fox was feeling too much, didn’t know what to do with all the feelings he currently had, the reason behind the whirlwind of emotions held him in his arms, cradling him flush to his body.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one though, as Quinlan’s eyes were wide open with emotions, barely able to believe what he just witnessed, and suspiciously wet, his face slack and hardly breathing.

“Fox… “, Quinlan was speechless, “I don’t…”

Knowing he couldn’t put into word what he was feeling, Quinlan huffed and quirked a corner of his mouth up, shaking his head disbelievingly.

“You are amazing”, he muttered, gazing down into Fox’ eyes.

He inched closer, turning his head a little until their lips were only millimetres apart. And when Fox got too distracted by the motion and was following his mouth with his eyes a little too obsessively, Quinlan closed the distance between them.

The song started anew and the rest of Coruscant was waking up.

But neither Fox nor Quinlan registered anything as they were still in their own little world.

Kissing each other tenderly like they were afraid the moment could shatter if they were to move too fast or sudden. Holding each other tight. Fox’ hands on Quinlan’s cheeks, guiding their faces and Quinlan’s own hands cradling Fox to himself. Scared that if they let go of each other, the other would disappear.

And when Fox would eventually pull millimetres away, he’d murmur into the others mouth, their lips touching and eyes still closed, a silent, wordless “I love you.”

Quinlan would only touch their foreheads together again and whisper back “Anything for you.”

He would continue holding Fox to him, his hands moving in a regular, comforting movement up and down his back. He would kiss the others forehead and bury his face in the others hair, breathing in the scent of the man he loved the most, while Fox would lay his head under his chin and listen to the comforting heartbeat he could feel just a little bit further down the chest.

Fox would smile and enjoy the moment with his cyar’ika, breaking his own walls down and letting Quinlan feel all of his love and admiration through the force around them, melting away the last remains of the cycle’s stress and making them feel at home.

When that happened, well-

Fox let himself be loved.

Translation:

karking - a huttese expletive

shebs - backside, rear, buttocks; so basically ass

kriff - an expletive

jetii - jedi

vode - siblings; it’s what the clones call each other if you haven’t realized by now

cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #commander fox #CommanderFoxWeek #quinlan vos #vox #quinfox #quinlan vos/commander fox #commander fox/quinlan vos #this is probs the most softest thing i've ever written #and i almost went the angsty way #i could have posted this on the first day #but i wanted to keep them both #which really messed up my writing schedule #how i even had one is beyond me

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