#fox: [starts thinking about the funny looking tooka he saw the previous night]

[cabezadeperro]

50 for Mereel/Fox? Love the way you characterize Mereel in that pairing.

hi anon! the prompt was putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up. established relationship, 650w, T. set during the war and featuring cody :)

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Fox stops in front of the open door and scowls. 

The door was locked, but that means very little. His office isn’t empty. Mereel, wearing his shell and leaning against the desk; Cody, sitting on his chair, the jacket of his dress greys hanging from the back and his hat in Mereel’s hands.

They turn to look at him at the same time, and Cody’s eyes flash. He smiles, tiny and smug, and folds his arms. He has his boots on the edge of the table, and he looks comfortable and knowing and Fox’s very glad he’s well and alive but right now he’d give quite a lot for him to be well and alive and on the other side of the galaxy.

Mereel looks like he always does: he winks at Fox, long fingers playing with the hat, and Fox didn’t know he was back on Triple Zero, and he thought he didn’t like Cody too much—something about Jedi and bootlickers and Sergeant Skirata; Fox stopped paying attention halfway through—but his presence isn’t as much of a shock as it should be. 

He slips from the edge of the table, kama swishing around his hips, and Fox steps further into his tiny office and locks the door behind him again: whatever happens here, he doesn’t want any of his men to see it. The last thing Mereel needs is a kriffing public.

Cody’s grin grows, and he sits up on Fox’s chair, dropping his feet to the duracrete noiselessly.

“We’re meeting tonight,” Fox tells him. Cody, Fox, Cody’s captain, Ponds. Some other people whose names Fox can’t remember. What are you doing here?

Cody shrugs: wouldn’t you like to know. “We are,” he agrees easily. He stands up and starts rounding the desk; Mereel throws his hat at him, and Cody grabs it from the air without looking, eyes still on Fox. he stops in front of him and knocks Fox’s pauldron with his knuckles; Fox rolls his eyes and takes off his bucket.

Cody’s smile softens a bit, and when he reaches out for Fox, Fox goes. He rests his forehead against Cody’s for a beat, breathing in Cody’s familiar smell, soaking in his warmth.

“Well, that’s adorable,” Mereel comments. Cody blinks his eyes open and steps away. He glances at Mereel, eyes suddenly flat, and Mereel smirks. Blood in the water, and Mereel about to say something he shouldn’t and won’t regret.

Fox places his hand on his mouth; Mereel stiffens, scowling, and Fox pushes him away, one hand on his face and the other on his plackart. He turns to look at Cody, tilting his head at him, and Cody exhales. He places his hat back on his head and leaves without looking back.

Mereel huffs. Fox cuts his eyes at him and folds his arms.

“Rude,” he says, and Fox—Fox just laughs at him, hoarse and painful. 

He crowds Mereel against the door; Mereel scowls down at him, pouting like he does every time something doesn’t go his way, and when Fox licks into his mouth, he sinks his teeth into Fox’s lower lip and pulls, just once and too hard.

Fox leans away.

“Play nice or fuck off,” he reminds Mereel, and Mereel—for a beat, Fox’s sure he’s going to leave, that Fox’s finally pushed him too hard, but then Mereel sighs and lowers his eyes and it’s mostly theatre but he also stays where he is, between Fox and the door, his fingers hooked around Fox’s belt. 

Fox sighs, suddenly very tired. He leans forward, and when Mereel doesn’t move away he hides his face in the crook of Mereel’s neck, right under his jaw, breathing in clean sweat and aftershave and the chemical smell of Mereel’s blacks.

One bare hand wraps itself around the back of Fox’s neck, gripping tightly, before scratching at his hair.

“I always play nice,” Mereel lies grumpily. Fox snorts.