#huntech (mentioned)

[sergeantgoggles]

Pink beige with Wrecker/Echo, please!

This ended up being really cute, I think! Not really "overprotective" but the point still comes across.

TW: implied SA, alcohol, mention of blood (I promise this all sounds so much worse than what is actually written here, but I want to make sure all of my bases are covered)

Also, background Hunter/Tech (because I couldn't help myself), Crosshair being a flirt, and referenced Mayday/Crosshair

Pink Beige: How protective are they? What would make them overprotective?

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Having a drink after a successful mission was nothing new to any member of the GAR, but especially Clone Force 99, who never failed a mission. It was more common than not to find the Bad Batch at a local bar afterwards, and this time was no exception.

Echo was more than aware of the eyes that were on him, and he squirmed as he slid between Hunter and Crosshair, hoping that being surrounded by his squad would make him feel less seen. His cybernetic parts weren’t something he was proud of, no matter how the others tried to spin it. They were something that he wished were less obvious, but having a scomp for a hand certainly came in handy during the riskier missions.

“Alright?” Hunter asked as he slid him a drink, his other arm low on Tech’s hip. “If anyone bothers you, Wrecker will handle it.”

His eyes darted to where Wrecker was leaning on the bar on Tech’s other side. Wrecker grinned as he held up his cup of whatever fruity juice and gin he’d ordered.  Despite the undercurrent of need to cause chaos wherever they went, there was something warm in Wrecker’s gaze that made Echo’s chest flutter. A shy smile tugged at his lips then, and he hid the blush growing on his cheeks behind his drink.

As the night went on, Echo could still feel eyes on him, but none of them spoke to him. That suited him just fine. He was content to keep wiping the floor with Crosshair in a card game a few lasat guards had shown them several missions ago. It wasn’t until Tech tapped him on the shoulder a few rounds later with flushed cheeks to inform him he and Hunter were going back to the ship and to “take their time” that Echo noticed that the ones who had been staring had started to move in closer.

“They’ve had their eyes on you all night,” Crosshair warned as he played his hand.

“I know,” Echo replied, contemplating, but not really. He was far too distracted.

“I count five, at least,” the sniper concluded. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Echo sighed. If this was going to be an issue everywhere they went, then there really wasn’t a point in leaving. He knew he was a freak, more man than machine. He also knew there were a lot of scum that were ‘into that,’ so to speak, but he really wasn’t interested.

“Nah, let them stare,” Echo resigned. “As long as they keep to themselves, they aren’t hurting anyone.”

“You’re clearly uncomfortable,” Crosshair argued. “It’s not a big deal to leave now and find somewhere to lay low while Hunter and Tech do whatever kinky shit they do.”

Echo snorted. That was something he could tease them about later if the opportunity presented itself. For now, though, Crosshair was right. He didn’t like having eyes on him, not like this.

Crosshair glanced up and whistled, catching Wrecker’s attention. There was some silent communication, but it happened too late. A man about Echo’s height slid up beside him and immediately put his hand on the upper part of his thigh.

Echo is no pushover by any means, but he hardly got to react before the man was lifted by the back of his neck and tossed across the bar unceremoniously, and Crosshair was darting across the table to grab his arm, tossing a few credits on the bar as they made a run for it. The last thing Echo saw before they left was Wrecker cracking his neck with an angry scowl and asking the guy who had put his hands on him if he had any last words.

They were several blocks from the bar before he and Crosshair stopped, and Echo immediately turned, looking for Wrecker behind them. Sure enough, he was jogging leisurely up behind them, wiping blood on his armor.

“You didn’t actually kill him, did you?!” Echo asked with a mildly horrified expression.

Wrecker boomed out a laugh. “HA! No, but he would have deserved it! Good eye, Crosshair!”

Echo turned back to the sniper, who shrugged with a smug smirk. “I like it when you show off a little.”

Shaking his head, Echo sighed. “Well, thanks. I’m not…used to that kind of attention.”

That was to say, he had never gotten that kind of attention from strangers, because he had always made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t on the market. Whether he was wrapped around Fives, seated in Rex’s lap, or somehow sandwiched between Jesse and Kix, he never had to worry about creeps and perverts.

Crosshair raised his brow and Wrecker frowned.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about it,” the big guy huffed and stepped into Echo’s space. The kiss on his cheek happened so fast that Echo was sure he’d missed it entirely, but the way they lit up in response was a sure sign that he hadn’t.

“Ugh,” Crosshair groaned as he started walking back towards the ship. “First Hunter and Tech, now the two of you? Guess I’ll have to find a reg to shack up with at this rate.”

Wrecker laughed, unphased by Crosshair’s commentary. “I’ll let Mayday know next time we see him.”

The immediate rigidity in Crosshair’s spine made Echo and Wrecker cackle, and the minor assault was temporarily forgotten as the two of them fell into step behind him. If Echo leaned a little heavier into Wrecker’s side, well, he’d later blame it on the drink. For now, he was content to lace their fingers together with the knowledge that no one would be touching him without consent again. At least, not at that bar, but if it did happen again, well, Wrecker would take care of it.