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let-love-run-red · 5 years ago

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Adventures of a Single Father-5

Tag List: @sincereleygmg, @0hour9am, @siobhanlovesfilm, @thefandomzoneisdangerous, @darthseph, @alyssah430 (I’m so sorry some of the tags didn’t work loves)

Adam woke with a start when he felt something moving on his chest. He glanced down to see Cody shuffling on his chest. Adam let out a sigh and rested his hand on his son's back, thankful Cody hadn't fallen off while Adam slept. He turned his head to glance at the clock on his bedside table. 6:00, he should have been making dinner for himself, and Cody was no doubt hungry. Adam stood while holding Cody against his chest and remembering what Dr. Garcia had said about trying to move Cody away from formula. He thought he'd gotten some jars of baby food on a sale at the store but looking in the pantry they were nowhere to be found. He sighed and reached for the can of formula. Solid foods would have to wait.

He opened the can to find it empty. He dropped it in the garbage can in the corner, before reaching for the second can only to grasp empty air. He dug around in the pantry, silently cursing in his head before shutting the door with more force than necessary. He grumbled under his breath before walking to where he'd dropped the chest carrier, laying Cody on the couch before fastening the carrier to his own chest. He picked up Cody, walking to the bedroom and dressing him in a light jacket and mittens. He would be close enough to Adam's chest to stay warm. Cody squirmed and grumbled when Adam put his mittens on his hands before slowly waking with a start.

Adam shushed him quietly, lifting Cody so his head was resting on Adam's shoulder. Cody reached up to grab Adam's hair and Adam winced as he tugged sharply. Adam set Cody in the carrier, lowering his head with his son to avoid losing a lock of his hair. He gently freed his hair from his son's grip, talking softly to Cody while making his way to the bathroom. He dug around in the drawers before finding what he was looking for, a black elastic band. He gathered the hair that Cody could reach from the carrier and pulled his hair back into the elastic, resulting in a half ponytail. He made a mental note to get his hair trimmed.

Adam walked to the couch, lifting his jacket in his arms and sliding it on as Cody waved his hands around in an attempt to remove the mittens that Adam had tied to his coat sleeves. Cody let out an indignant squeal as Adam zipped his jacket around Cody.

"Dada!" Cody screeched as he swung his tiny angry fists out to the side. Adam let out a sigh, taking Cody's hands.

"I know you don't like it kid, but you've gotta wear 'em." He said as he released one of Cody's hands to smooth his hand over the soft black hair on Cody's head.

Adam double checked he had his keys and wallet before walking out the door, locking it behind him and venturing down the hall. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he thumped down the stairs. He heard a similar thumping sound, just much lighter, and looked down the stairwell to see you making your way up the stairs. Your hair was awry as you gripped the handrail tightly.

"(y/n)!" Adam called delightedly. You snapped your head up, a smile breaking across your face when you spotted him.

"Hey Adam!" You replied. Adam quickly made his way down the stairs and pulled you into a hug, careful not to crush Cody. You were slightly taken aback, yes you and Adam had touched, but it was nothing more than a high five or handshake. He pulled away and held onto your shoulders.

"I got a job." He said, his voice at a whisper, almost as if he believed it would turn to dust if he said it too loud. Your smile grew before you hugged him again with a delighted squeal. Cody huffed in protest at the proximity and you pulled away before running your hand gently through Cody's soft black locks.

"That's great Adam!" You said joyously. He nodded happily, and the two of you stood in a not so awkward silence for a few moments before you spoke.

"Where are you headed?" You asked, glancing between his face and the back of Cody's head just poling out from under Adam's jacket.

"Oh, the store. I'm out of formula and baby food, I should've checked sooner." He said with a chuckle. You remembered that you were out of batteries, and a little low on milk for your taste. normally Laura would grocery shop, but she was lactose intolerant and nearly always forgot the milk, and cheese, and nearly every dairy item. You never made a list, so it was forgivable, she just never thought about it.

"Mind if I tag along?" You said, turning to face down the stairs. You had been looking forward to a warm shower but you would much rather spend time with Adam. You wanted to get to know him past just his fatherhood. That couldn't be all that defined him.

"Not at all, M'lady." Adam offered his arm to you and you took it. He helped steady you as you walked down the stairs on your sore feet.

The two of you walked to the store in a comfortable silence. You had kept your arm linked with his as you walked, not quite wanting to pull yourself away from his warmth. Occasionally you would glance over to him, watching him as he walked, counting the beauty marks on his face or examining his hair. You didn't mind it pulled back, but you much preferred it loose.

When you reached the store Adam grabbed a cart and unzipped his jacket, laying it atop the children's seat. You unbuttoned your coat before quickly pulling it back closed and shivering. It was too cold for your taste.

"So, the job, where's it at?" You asked. He had seemed so excited about it, you figured that was a good opening topic before you asked him your burning question.

"Oh, it's at that pub downtown, it's called Valhalla. The owner seems, nice. He's a little intimidating. I start tomorrow." Adam said as he pushed the cart into the store with you in step beside him. The two of you chatted about his job as he made a B-line for the infant section. You glanced to the back of the store to the dairy section before breaking away from Adam with a quick explanation.

Adam watched with a smile as you walked away, before continuing down the aisle. He picked up a few more cans of formula, and jars of baby food. He also picked up a new toy that Cody seemed to be particularly interested in and looked at a few of the baby walkers they had stocked. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, remembering what Dr. Garcia said about how dangerous the walkers could be. Besides, Cody was learning to move on his own.

Adam roamed through the aisles a bit more before running his grocery list in his head and deciding now was as good a time as any to pick up some of the more urgent things on his list. He made his way to the toilet paper section, parking the cart at the far end of the crowded aisle before weaving his way through the swarm of people. Adam reached to one of the taller shelves to grab a pack of toilet paper when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to look behind him to see a rather short, elderly woman shyly wringing her hands.

"I'm so sorry to bother you sir, but would you mind grabbing me a pack?" She asked gently. Adam flashed a smile and handed her the pack he had just grabbed down before turning to grab another for himself. He felt another tap on his shoulder and let out a sigh before holding the pack behind him. He felt somebody take it from his hands before grabbing another, and feeling another tap. He froze, trying to quell his frustration. He cursed his genetics for making him tall and cursed the fact that nobody in this aisle was even as tall as his shoulder. He turned wordlessly, holding the pack of toilet paper.

"Oh! How cute is he?" The middle-aged woman behind him cooed over Cody who was looking around curiously in the chest carrier. She reached to touch Cody and Adam felt the urge to curl himself around Cody. Instead he sharply cleared his throat and the woman withdrew her hand. Adam glanced behind her to see a bored looking teenager leaning on a basket that was pressed against the shelves across from Adam, which was funneling people much too close to him for comfort.

"I was going to ask if you would grab me a pack, but this little man is so cute!" The woman cooed at Cody. Adam held out the pack in his hand to her. She took it and called to the teenager before he looked up just in time to catch the pack of toilet paper in the chest. Adam suppressed a chuckle as the boy tried to catch it before just giving up and letting it fall to the floor. The woman turned back towards Adam, looking up to his face for the first time.

"I see where he got his handsome looks." She said, holding her hand out to Cody. Cody pulled his arms inside the chest carrier, pressing his face against Adam's chest as Adam rested a large hand over Cody through the carrier.

"Are you having fun with daddy on his week little man?" She asked. Adam felt a fire in his chest and suppressed a loud growl. His weekend? As if he was incapable of having Cody full time? As if he couldn't take care of his own child?

"My week?" He said quietly, his brows knitted together tightly.

"Well yes I can't imagine any court taking a baby away from their momma for longer than a week. She said, oblivious to the anger rising in Adam's chest. He heard a faint "mom" from behind him and glanced towards her teenager to see him paying full attention now and trying to pull his mother back to the cart.

"Especially one so young and absolutely precious, what did you do to momma anyway?" She asked with a chuckle, looking up to Adam's face.

"His fucking momma," Adam seethed, "was starving him and walked out on us when he was four fucking months old." Adam snarled. She stood straight, the smile falling from her face.

"I snuck out of the house every night to feed him so he wouldn't starve. So I hope to god that if we had to go to court, they'd keep his mother away from him." Adam said sharply before grabbing the fourth packet of toilet paper, and storming from the aisle. He heard a faint "how rude" from the aisle before hearing the woman ranting, most likely to her son, as Adam walked back to his cart. He dropped the toilet paper in the basket and grumbled to himself as he walked. He glanced down to Cody to see his son looking up at him with a happy smile. Adam thanked his luck that Cody was too young to understand what had just happened. He looked up to see you walking towards him, holding two gallons of milk and a few packs of batteries.

"Sorry Adam I had to track down an employee to help me find the batteries." You set them in the cart away from his things.

"They were in the office supply section," You said with a chuckle. "honestly why there?" Adam let out a small huff of a laugh from his nose and felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Got anything else you need?" You asked, cooing to Cody in the carrier when he turned to look at you. Adam shook his head. He just wanted to leave the store, and hopefully avoid any comments about his fatherhood and how it must be "his week." Honestly, who did she think she was? The two of you walked towards the self-checkout section, splitting off and going to the two open stands across the space from each other.

Adam began scanning his items, watching Cody startle at each loud beep. He continued scanning items until he got to the formula can. For some reason the system decided it didn't like that can and let out a loud beep before blocking the screen and blaring the message "Please Wait for assistance" repeatedly. Cody started crying in distress at the sound, causing Adam's stress levels to skyrocket. He pulled Cody from the carrier, cradling him against his shoulder and bouncing while he searched for an associate to make the loud noises stop. Each time the message played Cody started crying again. Adam gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut against the piercing gazes of the other shoppers.

Finally, an associate appeared. An older man who walked with a slight limp. He gave Adam a tight-lipped smile before scanning his ID card and scanning the formula again. The machine started flashing again and the two men sighed. The associate scanned his card again, before typing in the item number manually. Finally, the machine accepted the can of formula. Adam let out a breath of relief both at the machine and the fact that Cody was no longer crying. Adam thanked the associate, who hung close by in case Adam's kiosk decided to have problems again. Adam reached for his wallet and pulled it out, digging for his credit card to pay.

It wasn't there. His credit card was missing.

Adam set his wallet on the small top next to the machine, leafing through it with one hand while cursing quietly. His card wasn't there. He didn't have enough cash to pay for any of the items and his credit card wasn't in his wallet. Cody started fussing again and Adam felt tears pricking at his eyes as his anxiety swelled. He started breathing heavily and fumbling through his wallet. He tried to check it again, dropping it on the ground with a rather loud Fuck.

He heard bags rustling beside him and turned to watch you set the two gallons of milk and small bag of batteries down next to him before you pulled your own card out and slid it into the card reader. You gave Adam a gentle smile before bending down to pick up his wallet and handing it back to him. Adam took a deep breath and pressed his cheek against Cody's head both in an attempt to comfort himself and his son.

You finished the transaction, replacing your own card in your wallet and sliding it into your purse before helping Adam load his bags onto his free arm, picking up your own and walking out of the store with him.

"Thank you." Adam said quietly after a few minutes of silence. You turned to him with a smile.

"No need, it's what friends are for." You said gently. Adam quirked a smile and looked down to see Cody sleeping soundly against Adam's shoulder. You were both quiet for a moment, before you spoke.

"So, today at work I had a group of girls come in." You said, gauging his reaction. He was watching you carefully as you walked.

"And I think they knew you." You said. You watched Adam fumble one of the bags and curse quietly.

"One of them was talking about her kid, I think her name was Hannah?" You said. Adam let out a groan.

"Yeah, I knew them. Jessa Marnie and Shoshanna were there too right?" He asked. You recognized two of the names but Shoshanna was unfamiliar.

"Yeah Jessa and Marnie, but I don't recognize Shoshanna." You said.

"Super quiet kind of shy and a little fuckin' weird?" Adam said with a chuckle. Yep that was the third girl. You nodded with a giggle.

"Yeah, they were there." You said.

"Anyway, she was saying she wanted you to help her raise her baby?" She continued. Adam groaned.

"She's still going on about that?" He said before shifting Cody and the bags around in his arms.

"I guess, what's up with that?" You asked. He sighed as you pressed the buzzer for your apartment, knowing Laura would be home to unlock the door. You heard the automatic latch click and pushed the door open, holding it open for Adam to follow.

"We were dating a while ago. God I was cringy, and she was a fucking weirdo." Adam said as he walked up the stairs with you following.

"We broke up and got back together a few times, all her idea, and then I started dating the British one, Jessa." Adam cleared his throat as you watched him.

"I guess Hannah got knocked up sometime during that, the guy didn't want to be a father and I guess she figured because I always talked about having kids that meant I could be." You hesitated outside your apartment door.

"Oh?" You urged him to continue.

"Do you want to come inside?" He asked softly. You nodded and pulled yourself away from your apartment, approaching his door. He pulled out his keys to unlock it, pushing the door open and setting the bags on the floor beside the door to walk to his room and place Cody in his crib.

"I mean, I kind of offered once I heard. But I was just so caught up in what could have been, I eventually realized it wasn't going to work and we called it off. I went back to Jessa and broke up with her after she found out what I offered." He said, removing his jacket and Cody's chest carrier before beginning to put the groceries away. You set the gallons of milk and bag of batteries on the counter, glancing into the pantry when he opened it. There wasn't much other than ramen noodles.

"After a few months I met Hayley. Hannah showed back up and begged me to help her raise her kid, but Hayley was pregnant and I could not leave her." Adam said as he balled up the bags and tossed them in the cupboard under the sink.

"She was pissed. But I mean I had my own family," Adam trailed off. "and then she left." He said, staring at the floor. You had been listening quietly to his story.

"I was so stupid then." He said softly. You took a step towards him, rubbing his bicep gently through his jacket. He looked down into your (e/c) eyes with tears pricking at his own. You leaned against his chest, wrapping his arms around his waist in a hug. He hugged you back and rested his chin on your head.

The two of you stood in the kitchen for what seemed like hours. You felt the need to comfort Adam, he'd been through so much. So much that somebody trying so hard like he was didn't deserve to go through. Your phone buzzed and you finally pulled away as Adam cleared his throat. You checked your phone to see a text from Laura asking if you were alright.

"I should let you get going." Adam said gently. You nodded silently, picking up the milk and the batteries.

"I should too, you've got work tomorrow." You said, your voice matching his. It felt too intimate to talk normally, as if this required a gentle voice and soft words.

"Yeah, I've still got to find a sitter." Adam said with a chuckle. You tilted your head.

"What time?" You asked him. He shrugged.

"Around 6:30 ish." He said. You rolled your options over in your head before speaking.

"I could watch him, if you want." You said. Adam lifted his head with a smile. Currently, you were the only other person he could completely trust around Cody. Since Hayley had left, he'd had trouble letting his son out of his sight longer than a few hours for a nap, but you, he would trust you with his life.

"You wouldn't mind?" He asked. You shook your head with a grin.

"Not at all."

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detroitbydark · 5 years ago

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Crossed Connections: Part III

Characters: Tech x Togruta!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary:In which Crosshair has had enough and Tech considers the possibility of selling his vods.

A/N: to the best of my ability to find, Ik'aad transfer to 'baby' in Mando'a. if there's an expert out there and it's wrong please, let me know.

Previous Parts and Interludes can be found on my Masterlist HERE

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“What are you doing?”

Crosshair has been watching Tech sit propped in his rack for the better part of an hour. His nose is buried in his datapad. The small bit of his head the sniper can see is lit by the soft blue of the screen. The light accentuates the deep, dark circles forming around his eyes. He’d mentioned sleep, once before he started, how he needed it. Than he seemingly forgot.

The constant tap of his fingers against the screen is starting to wreck Crosshair’s cool.

“Personnel files” Tech answers absently, missing the way his brother’s brows arch as he sits up in bed. Propping himself on one arm the sniper stares openly.

“Are you-“ Crosshair shakes his head, eyes narrowing “are you supposed to be perusing those?”

Tech doesn’t answer. Lost in post-stim fatigue and so focused on what he’s doing, He’s in a world of his own.

Laying back down, Crosshair stares up toward the ceiling. Why the kriff was he hacking his way through the GAR personnel files?

He feels a headache beginning to throb through his forehead and behind his eyes. He didn’t get paid enough for this.

Commander Cody had been very clear, the Bad Batch was getting mandatory R&R. Two days. No one was particularly excited about it but at some point you had to follow an order and Cody seemed to appreciate what they were capable of so, rest it was.

It had only been eight hours. By Crosshair’s calculations they should still have at least another six before one of them was going stir crazy and that was Hunter’s job, not Tech’s.

Whatever. This was not his responsibility. He was going to sleep.

Accept, he wasn’t.

Jumping down from his rack and ambling across the room Crosshair snatches the datapad from from the oblivious clone. He blinks rapidly, eyes adjusting before they narrow.

“Cross...” he warns lowly, “give it back.”

The sniper turns his back and starts scanning the open file. His dark eyes widen.

“Is this the medic from earlier?”

“I’m not messing around. Give me the datapad.” The tone of Tech's voice has Crosshair giving him a skeptical look over his shoulder, turning toward the genius rising from his rack. He keeps one eye on his vod and the other on the datapad as he scrolls down the page.

“Why are you researching” he sneers the word, “the medic from today?”

“It’s nothing. Professional curiosity. I just wanted to make sure her credentials were-“

“Banthashit” The sniper barks “she was cute. I get it but... wait...” he notes dramatically. He hadn’t noticed the minimized tab when he’d first looked. “What’s this...”

He steps out of the way as Tech lunges at him. The younger clone makes a pained 'oof' as he misses his intended target and slams into the ferrocrete wall. Crosshair uses a booted foot to hold him back.

“You back on the Grutababy train?”

Tech glares.

“I got a transfer” Crosshair reads the message and a mockingly high voice “I’m out of my depth...” he frowns as he reads the rest silently.

Two weeks. He glances back at the GAR file. The little medic had arrived on Anaxes two weeks ago. The profile name and...

Tech glares from the floor not making an attempt to get up.

“Well shit, man...”

“Well shit what?” Wrecker asks as the barracks door slides open, barely acknowledging the scene in front of him. His bed flexes and squeals as he plops down on it.

“Tech’s Grutababy was the medic in the bay today.”

“No shit?” Wrecker purses his lips “Not bad. I like ‘em more my size but she’s cute.”

Crosshair lowers his foot and Tech scrambles to his own, dusting off his blacks and grabbing the pad back.

“So are you gonna write her back? Let her know your the scrawny little vod from earlier?” The big man asks.

Tech’s eyes dart from Crosshair to Wrecker. He presses the heel of his fist into his eye. A low growl leaves his throat.

“You two are gonna stay out of this.”

“Sure thing” Crosshair grins, “not gonna tell your little Ik’aad a thing.”

#tech x reader #clone trooper tech #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper wrecker #crossed Connections #tcw #tech/reader

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thought-42 · 5 years ago

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Clone Wars fic Day Four

Sometimes the next day is two months later leave me alone. Today on the pointless modern au: Obi-Wan gets many visitors at work and handles it... poorly. Part One Part Two Part Three

Cody appears in the Starbucks ten minutes before Obi-Wan's shift ends.

"I'm giving you decaf," Obi-Wan tells him, watching the vein in his forehead pulse in fascination. His hands are shaking slightly.

"I'm driving you to the party," Cody says. "If anyone asks, you don't get off for another hour and wouldn't have been able to make it across town in time."

"Are you having a Day?"

The after-school rush has passed, and there's no one behind Cody in line, so Obi-Wan hands him his change then leans on the counter, hands clasped as he studies Cody. His coworker is nineteen and far more interested in sneaking glances at his phone than reporting Obi-Wan to their shift manager where she's unpacking deliveries in the back, so he's free to take as long a look as he likes.

"I'm fine," Cody says. "This is fine. Everyone here is absolutely fine."

"You have glitter in your hair."

"I also have dried lentils and blood in my hair," Cody says, alarmingly at peace with this state of affairs. "I took the day off to get everything ready for this party, I have no idea how this is still such a mess."

Obi-Wan makes a note to check him for concussion before he lets him drive him anywhere. "I'm sure Rex will appreciate all your work."

"He'd better," Cody says darkly.

"You only turn twenty-one once, I suppose."

"Somehow I don't remember my twenty-first birthday being that much work."

"Yes, well, it's all rather dependent on where you live, isn't it?" Obi-Wan does not actually remember his twenty-first birthday and he hadn't been in the States at the time, so he really hasn't got a leg to stand on. Cody doesn't need to know that.

"We need to pick up the cake on our way back," Cody says, tapping a finger on the counter. "Don't let me forget."

"I thought your dad was making it?"

Cody laughs and it's perhaps the most soulless thing Obi-Wan's heard in his life. "Me too."

Obi-Wan pats his hand lightly and slides down the counter. "I've changed my mind," he says. "You're getting herbal tea."

"This is harassment," Cody says, absently, tugging out his phone and frowning at whatever he sees. "Did you know Anakin is bringing his girlfriend?"

Obi-Wan huffs. "I don't even know that Anakin has a girlfriend, Cody. What could you possibly be talking about?"

"Do I want to know what that's about?"

"No," Obi-Wan says, cheerfully. His stomach does the sickening swoop that it's been doing every time he thinks about the fact that Anakin doesn't trust him with something as simple as his relationship status and he has no idea why.

"Hmm," says Cody. "It still feels vaguely uncomfortable that he's even coming."

"Boundaries are institutionalized artificial constructs that prevent the formation of strong community," Obi-Wan says, lightly.

"That... sounds ethically and emotionally questionable," Cody says flatly.

"You say this like Kix won't be there."

Cody looks vaguely horrified. "Will he be?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head gently. "Sit down. Drink your tea. Does your head hurt?"

"It's not my blood," cody says, like that's not the most worrying sentence Obi-Wan has heard all week. He decides the world will not end if he finishes his shift a few minutes early just this once.

He's hung up his apron, washed his hands, and is just putting on his coat when Qui-Gon fucking Jinn walks in the door, long wool coat at odds with his worn boots and faded tshirt. Never before has he visited Obi-Wan at work. Obi-Wan had not actually been certain he knows where he works until this precise moment.

Obi-Wan has had the benefit, for most of the time he's known Qui-Gon, of being able to ensure he's presenting a particular image whenever they interact. Be it forewarnings of his visits by group home staff, emails to organize a visit at uni, texts that provide dates and times for family dinners and holidays. There have been very few occasions when Qui-Gon has caught him unaware and ill-prepared. And most of those times he doesn't remember well due to illness or alcohol. Obi-Wan has been working for 20 hours with a half hour break spent on the bus to get between his two jobs, he smells like coffee grounds, he's kind of woozy because he's consumed nothing but tea all day, and his maybe sort of potential partner is in the midst of a silent stress breakdown with glitter and blood in his hair and wrath in his heart.

"Hello!" Qui-Gon calls, bright and friendly like he does this every day. "Good, I've caught you before you left." Seeing him standing in front of the pastry case just to the left of the table with the possibly Satanic graffitti is bad enough, but actually hearing his voice against the background of the generic singer-song-writer crooning (which has burrowed its way into Obi-Wan's ears and soul and will follow him to his grave) and the rumble of the espresso maker is so jarringly incongruous that Obi-Wan wonders for a minute if he's even awake.

"Oh good," Obi-Wan echoes weakly. Cody looks casually curious, blissfully oblivious for the moment.

"I was in the neighbourhood," Qui-Gon says, "and thought I'd treat you to dinner."

"I'm... quite alright," Obi-Wan says. "I've actually got plans, unfortunately."

"We have an hour," Cody says, helpfully. Obi-Wan isn't close enough to step on his foot, and Qui-Gon is watching too closely for him to communicate his panic rage with his expression.

Qui-Gon's attention snaps to Cody like a heat seeking missile. "I don't think we've met. I'm Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan's-- father."

He extends a hand and Cody shakes, looking mostly uncertain. Obi-Wan gets it, much as he doesn't want to. He hasn't been particularly complimentary of Qui-Gon when speaking to Cody, but there's still a reason he's remained attached to him for twenty years. His smile is kind and his handshake firm and with his long hair and laugh lines he comes across mostly as someone's hippy uncle or the strange old man in the back of a magical shop who vanishes as soon as the protagonist looks away.

"I'm Cody."

Obi-Wan is hardwired to cringe at the particular grin that breaks across Qui-Gon's face. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Anakin has told me about you."

"Well that's concerningly vague, thank you," Obi-Wan mutters under his breath.

Cody hums noncommittally. Qui-Gon says "You're taking Obi-Wan out tonight, are you? I'm glad, he'll vanish into his books for weeks on end if you let him."

Obi-Wan is thirty-three goddamn years old and this man who could never even be bothered to adopt him still speaks about him like he's a child. And there's nothing malicious behind it, which is perhaps the worst part. Qui-Gon is teasing out of affection and is probably legitimately concerned about obi-Wan's social life. Obi-Wan wishes desperately that Cody was not seeing him like this, is quite suddenly hyper-aware of his own body and his expression and any words that might come out of his mouth. He feels awkward in his own skin and painfully aware of how Cody might interpret anything he does, as if with Qui-Gon's presence he has been thrust on stage for a role he doesn't know and for which he is lacking a script.

"My brother's birthday party," Cody says. "I have a big family, so birthdays are always... an event."

Qui-Gon nods. "Family is important."

Obi-Wan is going to drown himself in the coffee server.

"Well, if you do have that hour, you've got to let me take you both for a drink," Qui-Gon says. "I'm always happy to get to know Obi-Wan's friends, and especially knowing that Anakin thinks highly of you."

Cody glances over at Obi-Wan, eyebrows up, clearly waiting for him to take the lead. Obi-Wan's brain, unfortunately, continues to spin its wheels uselessly against an oil slick of embarrassment and anger and anxiety. And Cody, for whom familial support is a fundamental tenant of existence, who is courteous to a fault in the face of authority figures and not actually as quick on his feet in social situations as most people assume, does exactly what Obi-Wan should have known he'd do.

"That'd be great, thank you," he says, dooming them all. "We've got to pick up the cake by 6:30, but that does give us some time."

Obi-Wan lingers behind as they leave the store long enough to snap a photo of Cody and Qui-Gon existing in the same physical space, which he sends to Anakin with a long string of screaming emojis. Anakin replies immediately, of course.

'Thats adorable! i'm glad hes meeting the parents'

'Looking forward to meeting Padme tonight,' Obi-Wan responds, vindictively.

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Commander Cody #Codywan #tumblrfic tag #Star Wars why?#I... really hope this actually includes line breaks this time

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pcttrailsidereader · 5 years ago

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Independence Day

This is a re-posting of a wonderful story from 2013. What more appropriate story could there be for July 4th!

There are several aspects of Jo’s story that I really like. First, it captures in words a familiar obstacle that virtually all backpackers confront — fear. I will be the first to admit that my overactive imagination is particularly energized when I am hiking alone. Second, I love the special relationship that Jo has with her service dog, “Mr. C”. It brings to mind other such connections between canine and outdoorsperson, most notably John Muir and Stickeen.

By Josephine Pegrum Hazelett

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.

— Eleanor Roosevelt

Sometimes life takes an unexpected turn that forces you to confront yourself. You cannot predict the outcome; you just have to grab the experience and hope for the best. After hiking most of the Pacific Crest Trail with my husband, I had an opportunity to hike the John Muir Trail for a couple of weeks alone with my giant Border Collie service dog, Buffalo Bill Cody, or “Mr. C” for short. I didn’t anticipate an experience that would challenge to the core of who I am.

We were five days in and had slipped into a peaceful routine: up before sunrise, walk most of the day and asleep again before darkness fell. On this particular day, we would hike Muir Pass, at almost 12,000 feet; it is one of the high and scenic places of the southern section of the Sierra Nevada. The night before I had camped nine miles south of the pass in a lush valley and we were ready for another uneventful and beautiful day.

Mr. C and I arose in the morning twilight and were on the trail as the first rays of sun straggled through the trees to warm our day. We made our way up the canyon that climbed at a gentle pace for the first few miles. At Big Pete Meadow I saw two young men breaking camp: we waived acknowledgement of our mutual presence and I walked on knowing that with their youthful stride, they would soon pass me. As predicted, they overtook me about a half hour later and I would not see them again until I reached Wanda Lake on the other side of Muir Pass. I was completely alone. Looking back, I see what a privilege it was to have the entire hike up the Goddard Divide and down the other side all to myself—me and my dog in this incredibly wonderful part of the Sierra Nevada.

There were wildflowers of all kinds everywhere. The trail was alive with the short–lived Sierra Spring. It would have been hot hiking, but there was a thin cloud layer that kept the air cool and the hiking comfortable.

I had been warned that there was still snow on the south side of Muir Pass but having hiked the higher and more formidable Forester Pass four days earlier, I was not too concerned. On my initial approach to Helen Lake I saw more snow and the sparse trees began to disappear. I knew that the route had been well-traveled by hikers and I thought I would have plenty of footsteps to follow in, not to mention the fresh ones made by the two young men who had gone ahead of me this very morning. Unfortunately, I made a couple of wrong turns at Helen Lake staying to its west side rather than crossing to the East where the trail was. Consequently, I found myself walking steeply up the snow-covered face of the mountain. Rather abruptly, the footsteps disappeared and I felt my first tremor of doubt. Backtracking to the lake, I found the main route and reassured, headed on.

I began to think about the fact that I was completely alone and that a wrong turn out here would rapidly take me off the traveled route—the potential for becoming really lost was frightening.

I crossed the stream above the lake several times; the last crossing was at the outlet from the snowmelt lake above Helen Lake. This was a bit daunting because the water was cascading down the mountain in a 90 degree plunge and the rocks on which I had to cross were far apart and pointed requiring me to leap from rock to jagged rock. I rued the loss of my lightweight hiking poles that had broken early in the hike; they would have assisted my balance. I knew that I must keep going—there was only one way to get to the other side and that was to cross the torrent. Mr C, foot sure, had no qualms and oblivious to my concerns, leaped on the rocks across the chasm with all the grace and balance of an animal in the wild. My turn. Following in his steps, I leaped, one foot in front of the other finding each rock surprisingly firm under my feet. Afraid to acknowledge the fear that was creeping up on me, my mind seemed to float above the scene, watching with detachment—a kind of mental anesthetic. When I reached the other side I felt a surge of relief. Mr. C sensing the intensity of my emotion cocked his head and gave me a look like, “What was that about?”

My euphoria over this accomplishment did not last long. On the other side of the outlet, we traipsed through more snow for about half a mile until we came to a high and rocky valley filled with snow on all sides and a rush of snow melt running through a wide open area of scree. I could see no trail. Since the mountains rose in all directions but the one I had come from, I knew I would have to climb one of those vertical, snow-covered mountains, but I couldn’t see a route. If I chose the wrong direction, I would be truly lost.

To the north, the direction I thought I should go, there was a wide band of running water and I didn’t know how deep it was. I thought I saw a trail duck or cairn on the other side but it might easily have been a real bird. To avoid the water I headed to the Northwest, where I saw footsteps on the snowy mountainside but as I approached, they melted into the sun cups they were. Clearly, my mind was manufacturing what I wanted to see. I felt my options slipping away as fast as I could summon them up, and now, I felt the cold edge of panic. Logically, I told myself there was nothing to fear, but knowing this in your head does not stop your breath from escaping in short narrow puffs as your heart goes wild and your imagination takes off into the unreal scenarios of what could happen. The moment stretched infinitely and unknowably before me as I contemplated the possibility of not finding the trail. I forced myself to breathe, pushed the fear deep down and reminded myself that it would be embarrassing to die up here alone—I did not want to be a story on page 10 of the local paper, “Woman dies alone, lost on Mountain.” I’d never live it down—then, with an inward smile, I thought, I’d be dead so I wouldn’t have to! With that sobering thought, I focused on finding my way out of the bowl.

The Northwest route rejected, I returned to the river of water rushing over the rocks, in places deep and uncertain, but the panic had passed and I would go on. I found the rock that looked like a duck (100 feet or so away, across the water) and decided that it was worth checking out. The water wasn’t as challenging to cross as I thought it would be and sure enough on the other side, the duck turned out to be a real duck pointing out the trail right beside it. I started up the mountain, and again the trail disappeared into the snow. I had hoped to reach Muir Hut to have lunch but I had eaten nothing since breakfast and it was 1:30 p.m. Even though I didn’t feel hungry I knew I must eat. I stopped on the steep face of the mountain and in every direction the snow lay around me. I opened up an energy bar for myself and took out some Power Bones for Mr. C. At the time, I was so focused on making it to the pass in one piece that I hadn’t spent much time thinking about Mr. Cody; however he was having a wonderful time. He loves the snow and would spend all his time rolling in it if I allowed him to. Now, he used his paws to create a nest and rest. Mr. C and I sat there in the snow munching our food quite alone and I found myself talking to him as though he would answer me. Not in words, perhaps, but there was a special connection between us; he is very intuitive and his obvious lack of concern reassured me.

After lunch, I continued up the vertical side of the mountain (I’m sure there were switch-backs beneath the snow somewhere) post-holing as I went. Again I rued the loss of the lightweight trekking poles, they would have been helpful here. I trudged on, expecting to have a long way to go when suddenly I was aware of the curve of a dome appearing above the crest of my mountain, and with a few steps more, I knew that the dome was the top of the Muir Hut! I was close to the summit. A burst of energy took me to the top and looking over into the valley below I was overcome with joy to be there. I felt immensely happy to be alive and all the fear I’d felt washed out of me in an instant as I burst uncontrollably into tears. Here I was on top of the world in one of the most beautiful places on earth—how could anything be better than this—ever?

Cody on the other hand took one look at Muir Hut and headed straight for it! It looked like “home” to him—a place to rest, and even better, there might be food! The two of us stayed there at the top of the pass quite alone, looking out at the snow-covered mountains and the partly frozen lakes below. Time stopped and I could have stayed forever, alone with my loyal friend in our own piece of heaven. I reflected how fortunate I was to have the moment to myself. The sky, which had been gray, brightened, and as I stood there the last of the clouds disintegrated and I found myself bathed in warm sunlight—a real gift.

It was July 4 and a year since I had become an American citizen! I don’t know why this popped into my head at this moment. I think I was musing about how most people would be spending the day—at parades and picnics, with family and friends. I thought about the first Europeans who would have come to this place even a hundred or so years ago, how remote and wild it would have been then. I thought about the Indians who lived here for a millennium before the Europeans and what life must have been like for them. I thought about how I was on my own journey in space and mind and in that moment, I felt I was the luckiest person in the world. This was a special place and time and I wanted to hold on to it forever.

I had a long way to go before I would descend below the snowline on the north side of the pass. Going forward into the snowfields was a lot less intimidating since descending, I could see great distances ahead. For the first time, I felt that Cody and I would finish this hike, and that I could handle whatever I needed to in the remaining week, one mountain at a time.

Miles later, when we came to rest for the night by Evolution Creek, I covered Mr. Cody with my rainwear to give him some relief from the mosquitoes. I thought about my husband Kerry celebrating the day with friends and how I wished he could share this moment with me. I missed him but I was very happy to be here alone—I had been forced to face my fears head on and I had learned that when you are truly afraid—what is revealed is the very essence of who you are, there is no way to hide from your real self or to avoid that moment of reckoning. You will know the metal you are made of. Today I had faced myself, and I found that I had more internal resources than I realized. It was a powerful feeling.

I drifted toward sleep and that is how one of the most challenging days of my life ended, quietly as it began. I was calm and peaceful now and ready for a new day on the trail.

#Muir Pass #Lake Helen #Big Pete Meadow #Evolution Lake

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chaostheoryy · 7 years ago

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The Jealous are Troublesome [Nick Stokes X Reader]

Summary: While the rest of the team is out in the field on cases, you slip into the locker room to prep for a long night in the lab. To your surprise, however, there’s one CSI that’s one step ahead of you and, as you quickly discover, is up to something interesting.

Word Count: 3,894

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Masturbation and images of sexual fantasy

Notes: I’ve been sitting on this idea for weeks and have finally gotten around to writing it. It’s my first NSFW piece for CSI so apologies for any kinks in the characterization of our boy in the heat of it all. (Tagging @5teacherdream as requested!)

It was a busy night for the team. Everyone, including Grissom, had been assigned to a case which left Greg and the lab crew working overtime to keep up with the requests. You’d been given 401A just east of Mandalay Bay on Russell Rd. — a motorcycle had been struck by another vehicle, leaving the motorcyclist and his bike mangled beyond salvation. He was pronounced dead at the scene. What the other vehicle was and where it had sped off to, you were going to find out.

It only took a few hours to process the scene and collect the evidence. With the victim on his way to the coroner and clean up crew en route to clear the street, you hopped in your SUV and headed back to the lab to start piecing it all together.

“The first of the valiant knights has returned,” Greg beamed when you strolled in to drop off some of the trace evidence for him to analyze.

You raised your brow. “Really?” You huffed with a sense of pride. “Figured Nick would wrap up that 407 pretty quick. Sounded like a routine robbery.”

“Guess you got lucky. Now you…” — he snatched the paper bags from your grasp — “…get to stay here with me all night long.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, don’t be creepy, Sanders.” You laughed and turned to head out.

“Where are you going?”

“To the locker room. You think I wanna run trace in a jumpsuit?”

“Oh, I see. Slippin’ into something more comfortable.” You could practically hear the smirk in Greg’s voice.

You stopped in the doorway and jabbed your pointer finger his way. “Hey. What’d I say about being creepy?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! No más,” he exclaimed with a grin.

You made your way down the hall to the locker room where you and the other members of CSI stored their personal belongings and several changes of clothes for the shifts that left your original garbs reeking like death and decay. You pried open your locker and unzipped your jumpsuit and were about to hang it up when you became aware of the sound of running water. One of the showers was on, which meant that you weren’t the only team member back from the field.

You turned your attention back to your locker for the briefest moment before another sound caught your attention — a male whimper. It was very faint, almost undetectable underneath the constant patter of water against tile but there was no doubt you heard it. You were instantly concerned. Was he in pain? Was he washing off a fresh injury? Did he need help?

You quickly hung up your jumpsuit and made your way over to the showers but a heavy sigh reverberated off the walls and brought you to a stand-still. It was then that you became aware of the sound of slick skin sliding over slick skin. Realization draped over you like a blanket. Those whimpers and sighs weren’t ones of pain — they were ones of pleasure.

Your cheeks went pink. Determined not to draw attention to yourself, you pressed your back against the wall dividing the lockers from the shower stalls and scrapped your original plan to call out to the person. It was clear that whoever it was in there thought he was completely alone. He was keeping it quiet, no doubt, but if he knew that there was even a remote possibility that another member of his team had returned, there was no way he’d be doing such a thing in a semi-public shower.

You listened closely to the breathless sighs and groans for a moment. You knew it was inappropriate to be snooping like this but God were you curious. Who in their right mind would be jerking off at work?

A particularly loud moan and a thick Texan-accented murmur of “oh, baby, that’s it” soon made it clear to you that Nick was the guilty party. Your heart skipped a beat at the discovery. Nick Stokes was masturbating no more than 10 feet away from you.

You swallowed and closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the wall. You felt guilty. Sure, he was doing this in a shared space that you had every right to be in. Did that mean you should be listening to him lose himself in the throes of pleasure? Definitely not. But you couldn’t help yourself. Your curiosity had been peaked the moment you heard a man’s whimper in the shower. The discovery that the whimper was coming from a very oblivious, very occupied Nick Stokes was just an added bonus. And you’d be damned if you didn’t find the situation sexy as hell.

As you listened to his breathless moans, your imagination ran wild. You could practically see him in your head — his wet, black hair sopping over his temples, forehead pressed against the cold tile as his soap-slicked hand methodically ran over his cock. Droplets of water traced the line of his spine like ghostly fingertips. His pink lips were parted, his brow furrowed as he lost himself in the heat of it all. You wanted nothing more than to drown in a sea of ecstasy beside him. Your stomach tightened as you thought about it — your body caught between the tiles of the wall and his firm chest, his lips pressed against your neck as you dragged your palms over his abdomen. His hands were at your waist and his mesmerizing voice whispered sweet nothings and filthy suggestions that made you shiver under his grasp. His teeth grazed your collarbone and a single, calloused hand slipped from your waist to glide up your thigh until masterful fingers found their way to your-

You were drawn out of your fantasy when the steady fall of water suddenly ceased. Your breath caught in your throat. Oh shit. If you didn’t move now, you were busted and neither you nor Nick were going to enjoy the conversation the two of you would have.

Just as you heard the lock on the stall door click open, you bolted for your locker and quickly threw your jumpsuit back on. Leaving it half zipped, you faked prying open your locker just as Nick came in.

“Hey.”

You looked over your shoulder and were pleasantly surprised to find him dripping wet with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Just when you thought you were going to let go of that fantasy of yours… You forced an innocent smile. “Hey.”

“You just get back?”

“Yeah,” you lied, gesturing to your locker with your thumb, “Figured I’d dress down since I’m gonna be here running trace with Greg for a while.”

Nick nodded. “I got a couple of prints off the register at the pawn shop and a whole mess of smudges from the cases so I’m sure I’ll be seeing you quite a bit tonight,” he said before prying open his locker to grab a clean set of clothes. You were surprised by the look in his eyes. He seemed hesitant, almost ashamed. Did he know you had been listening? No. That wasn’t possible. You hadn’t made a sound the entire time. Maybe he was just feeling guilty about letting himself go in a place like this.

“I’ll make sure Greg and I are working double-time so those prints don’t get back-logged,” you reassured him.

He threw you a small smile. “Thanks, (Y/N). I appreciate it.”

You quickly removed your jumpsuit — for good this time — and hung it up where it had been no more than a minute ago. Then, you changed shirts and closed the locker. “I’ll see you out there,” you said before leaving him to dress in privacy.

Unsurprisingly, Greg was relentless that evening. Overt flirtations and sexual innuendos were spewing from his mouth like a broken sprinkler. If it weren’t for the fact that you loved the guy like a brother, you would have clocked him in the jaw after the third joke.

You were in the midst of running the first set of prints from Nick’s 407 through CODIS when he poked his head in just in time to hear Greg fire off a particularly filthy remark about pubic hair. “Are you always this disgusting?” Nick asked from the doorway, arms crossed.

You couldn’t help but grin when you noticed Greg jump. “Only when there’s someone in the room for him to talk to,” you remarked.

“Not true,” Greg chimed in with unabashed pride, “I’ll have you know that the unspoken thoughts in my head that I conjure up during my solo escapades are far more interesting.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. Greg went silent.

“How are those prints coming?”

You took a deep breath and shrugged. “They’re coming sooner or later.”

You heard Greg whisper under his breath. “That’s not the only thing that’s coming tonight.”

You nearly jumped from your stool when Nick snapped. “Hey! Knock it off, would ya? Those jokes weren’t funny in college and they sure as hell aren’t funny now.”

“Easy, Nick,” you said quickly, completely taken back by his sudden outburst, “It’s alright.”

He turned to look at you, a fire burning in his eyes. Never before had you seen him so worked up, especially about something as insignificant as Greg’s commentary. “No it isn’t. It’s childish and inappropriate.” He threw a sharp look over at Greg. “Keep flapping your gums like that in here and it’ll only be a matter of time before Grissom takes a yardstick to the back of your hand, you hear me?”

“Okay!” You rose from your seat and slipped between the two of them, diverting Nick’s unexpected rage from his dumbfounded victim. “I need to have a word with you.”

You dragged Nick from the room and down the hall to the currently unoccupied meeting room. The second the door closed behind you, you spoke. “What in God’s name was that about?” You shook your head. “You practically gave Greg a heart attack!”

“Serves him right,” Nick argued, “If Grissom heard him talk like that, Ecklie and the rest of his bloodhounds would be on his ass in seconds.”

“Grissom and I and everyone else in this lab know better, Nicky. Greg’s practically still a kid. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Nick put his hands on his hips and clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together. He was quiet for a brief moment. Then, after scanning your face, he added, “Yeah, well, I don’t like it.”

You sighed at his stubbornness. “Like what?”

Nick’s voice lowered drastically. “When he says stuff like that to you. It practically makes my skin crawl.”

You were stunned by the sudden shift. Nick’s rage had vanished and was replaced by a strange sense of hesitancy. He seemed timid, almost as if he were afraid of being honest with you. There was more to this outburst of his and you were curious to know all of the reasons behind it. Right now though, you just needed to make sure he had completely cooled off.

You smiled softly and reached out to squeeze his arm — and boy was it firm under your grasp. You shook the thought and focused on comforting him. “Look, I know it’s gross and stupid, but this is Greg we’re talking about. Everything he does is gross and stupid but I love him nonetheless. He’s the little brother I’m glad my mom never had.”

Nick chuckled at the statement and nodded in agreement. “You can say that again.”

You were glad to see him flash a glimmering smile again. No doubt the worst was behind him now. “Why don’t you check-in with Bobby while we wait for the prints to finish their run through CODIS? I’m sure he’s dying to try and match those casings you found.”

Nick nodded. “Good idea.”

You patted his arm in support and headed for the door.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said quietly.

You stopped and looked back at him.

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out back there.” There was a guilty look in his eyes much like the one you had witnessed in the locker room earlier. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Guess it finally got the best of me.”

Your heart ached hearing him say that. You gave him another tender smile. “Don’t worry about it. There’s only so much we can take, y’know?”

The shit-eating grin on Greg’s face that you returned to nearly had you flying over the counter to wrap your hands around his throat. You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied slyly, “Just amused by our dear Romeo and his glorious outburst.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way back to the computer on the other side of the room where it was still chugging through the database of prints. “He’s on edge for some reason, okay? Don’t go making it worse by being a douche.”

You heard him press a few buttons on one of the machines. “I guess I would be on edge too if I were him.”

“Oh yeah?” You blurted sarcastically as you looked closely at one of the smudged prints Nick had collected from the casings at his scene. “Why’s that?”

“‘The jealous are troublesome to others, but a torment to themselves’,” he boasted in a shoddy English accent.

You put down the magnifying glass in your hand and turned to look at him. “You think he’s jealous?”

Greg raised his brow in cocky affirmation.

You eyed him skeptically. “Why would he be jealous of you? Cause you can get away with cracking naughty jokes at work?”

He slipped around the counter and leaned back against it, that annoyingly sly smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Not exactly. Think more along the lines of with whom I make said jokes.”

You took a second to process Greg’s suggestion. When it settled in, you were immediately floored. “You’re telling me that he’s jealous of you because you’re flirting with me?”

“Bingo.”

As much as you wanted to accept this “fact” — and man did you wish it were a fact — you had your doubts. Hell, you had a heap of doubts. “Okay, pump the breaks, Jeff Gordon. What makes you think he’s even remotely interested in me?”

“It’s amazing what the sense of sound can reveal to an individual,” he mused.

You threw him a look, silently imploring him to elaborate.

“Look, the guy is constantly gushing over you. It seems like every time him and Warrick pass by he’s going on about how eager he is to partner up with you on a case or fawning over the way your eyes match your shirt.” Greg grinned as he reached over to grab his coffee cup from beside the computer. “It’s like watching a high-school book worm crush on his math teacher.”

You shook your head. “You have got to come up with better analogies.”

He swallowed the sip of his special Hawaiian blend. “Sorry.” He placed the mug back down and crossed his arms over his chest. “In all seriousness though, (Y/N), Nick likes you. A lot. And if it weren’t for the fact that he thinks you’re way out of his league, he’d be on you like white on rice.”

“He thinks I’m out of his league?”

“Um, yeah, ‘cause you are.” Greg laughed as if it were a fact everybody but you was aware of. When he saw you were baffled by the response, he raised his brow. “Come on. I’m being serious. You’re smart and funny and literally the coolest person in the whole lab. Not to mention that — and don’t take offense to this ‘cause I mean it from the bottom of my heart — you’re smokin’ hot.”

You all but snorted at the remark and shook your head. “You really know how to boost a person’s self-esteem don’t you,” you teased.

He grinned. “It’s a personal hobby.” He tilted his head in curiosity. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re not as easy to read as CSI Cupid,” he mused, “Are you into him?”

You brushed a rogue strand of hair behind your ear and nodded. “Yeah. Probably more than I’d like to admit to myself.”

“Then how come you haven’t made a pass at him? I mean, not that it’s any of my business. I just can’t wait to see him crumble at your feet like a saltine.”

“‘Cause I’ve been sitting in the same boat as him. I’ve spent all this time watching from afar, thinking he was way out of my league.”

“Well, I don’t know a thing about baseball,” Greg remarked as he grabbed his mug and slid off the counter, “But I think you two need to get on the same team and start scoring some touchdowns.”

“Home runs.”

He waved his hand and smirked playfully. “Whatever.”

When CODIS finally spat out a match to the pawn shop prints, you gathered the suspect’s record and personal information and set out in search of Nick. Sure enough, you found him seated at the main computer in the video room scrubbing through security tapes.

“Hey.”

Nick looked up from his screen, eyes lighting up the moment he saw you. “Hey. What’s up?” He spotted the printed sheet in your hand and grinned from ear to ear. “You got a match for me?”

You nodded and handed the sheet over to him. “Robert Wilkins. Arrested for robbing a gas station seven years ago. Turns out he was released back in January.”

Nick read over the document and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Well, he won’t be cruising free much longer if we have anything to say about it.” He seemed to exhale in relief knowing he had a proper lead. He looked up at you and smiled softly. “Thank you.”

You returned his smile with a gentle grin of your own. “‘Course.” You hesitated for a brief moment, thinking about the discussion you and Greg had less than an hour ago. If he was right — and you had reason to believe that he was — then you and Nick were one conversation away from meeting in the middle of a very important causeway. “Before you get back to work, can we talk?”

He furrowed his brow, clearly concerned. “About what happened earlier?”

“No, no, not about that,” you replied quickly, wanting to reassure him, “Well not exactly.”

“Okay… Then what about?”

You took a deep breath, wondering how you were going to go about this. You were taking a risk. Crossing the boundary between friendship and romance was terrifying, especially when those friends were people you spent hours on end with in a high-stress work environment. If you pushed too hard or too fast, you could scare him off and create an awkward situation for the two of you. But, whether or not you were entirely prepared for it, this was a conversation you needed to have.

“For starters, I think I understand now why you snapped,” you said cautiously.

You could see his jaw clench. “And why’s that?”

“Because you might have feelings for me.” Your voice was soft and quiet as you explained your discovery, “And if that is true, then I think you were angry at Greg for being flirty around me because you wish that you were the one making shameless passes at me.”

Nick’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape. He looked stunned. There was no doubt that he hadn’t seen this conversation coming and, judging by the way he kept quiet rather than lash out in denial, it was true — he was into you. And, for the first time since you’d met him, the charming, confident Nick Stokes was putty in your hands.

“How’d you figure that out?” He asked after a moment of silence.

You flashed a coy grin. “Greg told me.”

Nick closed his eyes, mumbling under his breath. “‘Course he did...” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear, one of these days he’s gonna earn himself a kick in the gut for how nosy he is.”

“Yeah, well, if it weren’t for his big mouth, I would probably be dancing around my feelings the rest of my career.”

Nick looked up at the comment, brow furrowed. “Beg your pardon?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t swing by to throw you under the bus for being attracted to me,” you said softly.

He blinked. “Really?”

You nodded.

“So, you, uh-“ He struggled to find the words and merely settled for a gesture of his index finger, pointing at you and then himself — a silent question of so you like me too.

You giggled and nodded again. “Yeah, I do.”

“Oh.” He let out a heavy breath that registered somewhere between a sigh of relief and a huff of laughter. The corner of his eyes crinkled as a brilliant smile once again found its way to his face. “Well that’s…good.” He chuckled to himself, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

You placed a gentle hand on his neck. You then bent over, keeping your face just inches from his. “You mind if I…?”

His eyes widened and flicked down to your lips before locking with your own eyes once again. “Not at all,” he replied in a hushed tone.

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. You couldn’t help but smile into it when you heard him hum in content.

You pulled back a moment later and watched as his eyes ever so slowly opened back up. He looked completely blissed out, as if he were lost in a dream come true. The innocence and pure content on his face nearly made you giddy.

“Not to ruin the moment or anything,” you said slyly, your thumb soothingly rubbing against the back of his jaw, “But were you thinking about me while you were in the shower earlier?”

His lower jaw nearly unhinged itself and his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. “Oh God…” He covered his eyes with his hand, lowering his head in shame. “You heard that?”

You flashed him a guilty smile. “It was kinda hard to ignore.”

“Great,” he muttered under his breath before looking back up at you. “Well, it’s safe to say that’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done.”

You traced the line of his jaw with your thumb. “I don’t know about that,” you replied playfully, “I thought it was kind of hot.”

His brow hiked up his forehead. “Oh yeah?”

“Definitely,” you whispered before leaning in to steal another kiss. You let your hand linger on his cheek for a moment afterward before stepping back. “I gotta get back to work. God knows what Greg is up to with me not being there.”

Nick laughed softly and nodded, the softest of smiles stretching across his face. “Make sure he’s not burnin’ the place down, would ya?”

“Will do.”

You headed for the doorway, stopping just before you rounded the corner into the hall when Nick called out to you again. You looked back.

“You wanna get breakfast with me later?”

You couldn’t help the massive grin that tugged at your lips. “I’d love to.”

#Holy moly this is a long one #But boy is it SOLID #This may be my new pride and joy #Reader Insert #My Fic #CSI #CSI: Crime Scene Investigation #CSI Imagine #Nick Stokes #Nick Stokes X Reader #Nick Stokes Imagine #5teacherdream

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charity-angel · 7 years ago

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On Buns and Ovens (12/?)

[Part 1] [Part 11]

[Read on AO3]

They swung into action. Jesse utilised some of his more dubious talents to reprogram Fives’ ID chip to broadcast Echo’s original CT number of 21-0408, but Fives refused to take his dead brother’s name too (and rightly so, everyone agreed. Numbers were one thing, but a name was everything). That, he took inspiration for from Waxer.

“What was that word Numa used?” he asked, tracing the image of the little Twi’lek girl on their fallen brother’s bucket. “Dammit, Echo would have known.”

“Nerra,” Boil said, his eyes soft. “Means vod in Ryl.”

Kix was impressed: three languages in the space of five words.

Fives was nodding thoughtfully. “That’s it. At least if I can’t be me, I can still be a brother.”

“Nerra it is,” Jesse said, finishing off his highly illegal modification of the service records.

(They had opted to return to the barracks for that – that way, Kenobi could at least claim that he didn’t know exactly what they were doing. There was no way they were implicating their jetii for everything, and this was something they could save him from.)

“Now the only thing is this,” Fives – Nerra – said with a sigh, touching his tattoo. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a slice to erase… no, Kix!”

Kix just raised his eyebrows. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to,” Fives grumbled as their vod’e grinned and Ahsoka snickered. “You spend far too much time with us to have not thought it.”

“So I’ll keep surgical intervention on the back burner then,” he responded, his face the picture of innocence.

“There are other ways,” Ahsoka suggested. “I’m pretty sure that Alyx probably has something in xir locker that would help.”

Kix wasn’t alone in his confusion: only Odd Ball, Alyx’s squadmate, seemed to understand Ahsoka’s reference to the 212th’s sister.

(Alyx identified xirself as female not long after xe realised that transgenderism was a thing, but preferred to use a gender-neutral pronoun. For now, at least.)

“I’m pretty sure that we could at least get a decent colour match based on what Alyx uses, even if it’s not exact.”

Ahsoka sighed at the blank faces surrounding her. “Men, honestly. Fives, you could use a bit of concealer to cover your tattoo until it’s safe for to be you again. It’s a cosmetic designed to cover up small patches of skin that’s discoloured for whatever reason.” She grinned mischievously and added: “Or for sometimes making white bits orange and orange bits white.”

The younger among the vod’e looked horrified. Rex and Fives seemed to understand, and Kix had to admit that he could see this one both ways.

“But… why?” Wooley asked. “You… you’re already unique.”

“Being unique isn’t always a good thing,” Rex said, rubbing at the golden stubble on his scalp. “Being unique was hard for me: I could never hide in the crowd, I was always the one picked on in training, pushed harder than anyone else because I was the obvious target. Ahsoka’s face has been on every news feed in the Republic: she can’t hide either.”

Kix had been there too, and knew it was true. Any vod who stood out ended up being pushed harder, because the Kaminoans saw them as flaws in the product, and they had to prove that whatever genetic aberrations they had didn’t detract from their overall quality. Kix had been slow to hit puberty, and another vod in his squad had been not only brunet but left handed too. They had also struggled, and Kix would have loved to be able to just be another face in the squad, once upon a time. Now the idea left him cold.

Ahsoka nodded in agreement with Rex. “It’s nice to not have to be me sometimes – just to go out and not be recognised.”

Fives snorted. “I get that. Even if I hate having to do all this, I get the desire to pass under the sensor grid.”

Jesse snorted. “Yeah, that makes sense. Even if the civvies can’t tell us apart, there’s no hiding what we are. Not here, at least. It’d be nice just to be able to walk down the street, take in the sights, and not be recognised.”

“Concealer?” Fives said to Ahsoka, bringing the conversation back to the pertinent point.

She nodded. “It’s pretty easy to pick up in stores, but getting the right colour can be tricky. That’s why I thought about Alyx: xir skin is going to be almost exactly the same shade as yours, give or take a bit of exposure to sunlight.”

“I’ll ask xir,” Odd Ball said. “Xe knows how to be discrete.”

“And if it doesn’t work for you, vod, there are always…”

Fives glared at Kix and he shut up. But then his brother seemed to slump in resignation.

“Last option,” he said softly. “Only if we absolutely have to.”

Kix nodded sympathetically. He knew he had felt the same way about losing his lightning bolts, and his hair would grow back soon enough – what Kix would need to do to Fives would be fairly permanent (although he would do his utmost to leave the skin intact enough that the artwork could be replaced in due course).

.oOo.

With Fives still on the loose, the 501st were grounded. Apparently, the Council felt that their presence would be of benefit to the manhunt. Ahsoka sardonically pointed out that they probably actually thought it would be far too easy for Fives to stow away offworld with the 501st.

That caused some amusement when Jesse fed it back to their friends, and some not inconsiderable relief.

“At least they’re not looking at us,” Boil said, slinging his arm around his newest sergeant. “We dodged that particular bolt.”

“We haven’t been given our next orders yet, either,” Cody pointed out. “Just because suspicion is mainly elsewhere doesn’t mean we’re out of the picture altogether.”

“All the more reason to move as fast as we can,” Rex said by way of agreement.

“And, of course, I’ll need a medic who won’t question why Sergeant Nerra has a five tattooed on his temple,” Cody said thoughtfully. “Just in case he gets himself injured.”

Kix rolled his eyes. Cody was dropping more and more hints that he wanted Ryll back with the 212th, and this particular one had a certain degree of logic to it. However…

“I said before, prove you can take care of a medic,” he growled. “You keep getting them killed.”

“Stick him with Boil,” Wooley suggested gleefully. “The droids are too scared of him to aim anywhere near.”

“Kix,” Cody said seriously, ignoring Wooley (mostly, anyway), “if you can tell me why I keep losing my medics, maybe I can do something about it. If it’s just a case of ‘I need a one who can take care of himself in the field’, well, I’m asking for one.”

Kix had absolutely no argument for that. It looked like he had as until the 212th got their marching orders to cram as much useful knowledge into Ryll’s head as possible.

Damn, he was going to miss that kid.

.oOo.

Odd Ball really came through with a plot to fake Fives’ escape from Coruscant. His quirky astromech had been badly damaged in their last battle – not so bad that it wasn’t salvageable, or functional, but enough that repair was going to be a long, costly process – and he and Alyx managed to talk it into acting as the ‘pilot’ for one last mission instead. They installed it into a standard shuttle and it was Jesse who, in blank armour, ‘sneaked’ onto the purloined vessel and took off.

In a move inspired by Fives’ faked escape from Kamino, Jesse jumped ship over 500 Republica, aiming for a secluded balcony away from any camera droids, with the idea that he would be brought to a safe landing by Ahsoka while R5 and the shuttle disappeared off into the atmosphere and, if all went according to plan, jumped to hyperspace before anyone could shoot it down.

(Although if it didn't go to plan, it would make things a bit more difficult, from the point of view of forensic evidence, but they could probably work it out anyway and then Fives would be considered ‘dead’ rather than ‘missing’.)

Kix watched Jesse’s leap with his heart in his mouth. He knew Ahsoka was capable – he knew it – but it was normally Skywalker who was responsible for catching a falling body. Normally Rex’s falling body. And Ahsoka seemed a little twitchy, although she was hiding it well.

Maybe she was just nervous about being responsible for Jesse’s wellbeing. Or maybe he was just seeing things that weren’t there.

Beside him, Senator Amidala sighed.

“Somehow I am not surprised that not only can Ahsoka do this, but that you apparently see this as something normal.” Her tone was dry.

“We trained to be ready for anything our jetiise could throw at us,” he responded, not able to tear his eyes from the shape hurtling towards them in freefall, “but I never thought they would be throwing and catching us.”

He could feel her eyes on him. “I take it this isn’t your cup of tea then?”

He shook his head vehemently. “Makes me glad I don’t spend all that much time right on the front lines. Jesse…”

He swallowed, his eyes still on his riduur as his fall finally slowed. The senator’s hand curled around his, squeezing gently, reassuringly. Assured that Jesse was safe, he glanced down and saw that Amidala’s eyes were filled with understanding that was probably hard-won.

Jesse, oblivious, landed gracefully on his feet and removed the foreign, blank bucket, laughing.

“He won’t understand,” Amidala said softly, her eyes now on the balcony. “You just have to hope he’ll carry on coming home to you.”

“Thanks, Commander,” Jesse said all too cheerfully to Ahsoka at the end of the balcony, his voice drifting over to them. “That was awesome.”

Kix squeezed Amidala’s hand back. “I always do. And it’s not like either of us is helpless either. Or safe.”

She chuckled, somewhat weakly. “You’re right, of course. And we’re less safe by the day, particularly since we are up to our necks in this conspiracy.”

Ahsoka and Jesse made their way into the apartment, grinning broadly. Jesse’s arm was slung over Ahsoka’s shoulders in a manner that looked careless, but was actually carefully avoiding putting pressure on her growing central lek.

“So far, so good,” Ahsoka said. “As long as R5 does its job, we’ll all be okay.”

[Part 13]

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