#happy new year i finished this to trick my brain into cooperating w me. to write more this year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catboydogma · 4 months

Text

envie si grande et menaçante

grandiose - pomme

wc: 4,475

notes: the long-awaited vox fic for @meerlichtz :) this has been in my drafts for so long that i think it put me on (semi-unintentional) hiatus. yes, this fic is quite possibly the reason why i've written .2 fics for the last 32 years. regardless despite all the horrors i had a ton of fun writing this and hope u enjoy meer :)

summary: one Jedi Shadow Quinlan Vos gets stuck in the Coruscant Guard's medbay recovering from a mission gone meiloorun-shaped. This goes about as well as expected.

“You are not allowed to die on me,” Fox snarled, reining in the urge to shake the Jedi by the fronts of his tabards. For General Gallia to leave Fox to babysit this asshat and then have this asshat die on him was unconscionable. Fox had never failed a mission objective in his life, and he wasn’t about to let some muscle-headed Jedi change that.

“Me?” Vos grinned. His teeth were stained pink with claret; Fox could see it foaming at the corners of his mouth, lips and tongue a ruddy crimson with it. “Why would I die when I have so many better things to be doing on you?”

Mission parameters could be flexible. Surely General Gallia wouldn’t mind that much if Vos disappeared—quietly—discreetly—

“Whoops. Now that’s a scary face.” Vos mimed zipping his lips shut. The effect was only partially ruined by the tremor in his hands, now getting worse.

“Shut up.” Fox leaned even more of his weight into the hands keeping pressure on Vos’ abdomen and ribs, ignoring Vos when he wheezed something about his ribs. A few cracked ribs wouldn’t kill the Jedi, but the hole in his chest would, even if the blaster shot had only just missed his lungs. “Medevac, ETA?”

“Closing in on your location now,” Thire reported. “Hold your position.”

“It’s worse than it looks,” Vos said airily.

“Commander Thire can be the judge of that.” Fox felt his lips draw back in a near-unconscious snarl but he kept his hands and voice steady. There was no telling how fragile a natborn could be, even one with Jedi capabilities and training.

“Commander Thire is calling bullshit on that, unless the blood loss is starting to affect the good General’s vision.” Thire arrived with two full squads of backup: he and another Corrie medic dropped to their knees beside Vos, ushering Fox out of the way as Fox started to direct cleanup efforts.

This Jedi had an uncanny ability for making situations devolve before Fox’s very HUD. General Gallia had left on a relief mission to the Outer Rim yesterday, at which point Fox had met her temporary replacement—one Knight Vos, Jedi Shadow and relentless flirt. From what limited intelligence Fox had managed to gather, Vos was conducting covert ops on Coruscant, which made it convenient for him to be stationed at the CGHQ with the Guard. He’d gone out at some point last night for what he’d cited to be “super top-secret party business,” missed his early morning check-in, and turned up two klicks from HQ mid-afternoon sans four pints of blood. Fox recalled the squads he’d sent out in search of Vos after he’d missed check-in, sent another to scour the area for traces of Vos’ attackers, and ignored the increasingly amused conversation Thire was having with the Jedi behind him.