The Jar
Summer of Bad Batch | Week 5 | Prompts: "You're a bad liar" and "Need a hand?"
Summary: After being rescued from Skako Minor and joining Clone Force 99, Echo is still getting used to his modifications.
POV: Echo
Rating: PG
(Word Count: 784)
Read on Ao3
Echo stared at the vacuum-sealed jar of rations with narrowed eyes.
I WILL figure out a way to open you myself, he silently vowed to the small metal container sitting innocuously before him.
Usually the squad had boxes of rations - those were easy to open with one hand - but they had learned the hard way on this assignment that some of the wildlife here on Yrzac were also capable of breaking into the ration boxes, and therefore the sealed jars of food were necessary.
Echo hadn't wanted to admit he didn't know how he'd be able to manage opening the container, just like he'd refused to admit he was still having difficulty negotiating the rocky terrain and climbing with his prosthetic legs, just like he hadn't said a word about the fact the cybernetic implants that had been bored through his skull into his brain were still giving him excruciating headaches despite the med droids' assurances that the pain would dissipate eventually. He'd only been with Clone Force 99 for two weeks. He was NOT going to be a burden, be dead weight, ask for help with simple tasks like getting his own food. He would admit to nothing.
So he had taken the rations jar Wrecker had handed him in the morning, then had claimed he wasn't hungry and he'd eat later. And when Tech had taken watch as the others settled to sleep in the stone ruins where they'd set up camp for the night, Echo had snuck around the corner of one of the crumbling walls and stared at the sealed container, considering his dilemma.
He had tried bracing the jar between his knees to break the seal and unscrew the lid, but the metal jar against metal prosthetics proved too slippery. Same with wedging the jar under his right arm. Using his teeth would do nothing. For a wild moment, he considered throwing the jar against the ground - to release his frustration as much as to see if denting the jar would help - but no, that would be too loud...
"Need a hand?" a soft low voice sounded over his head.
Echo didn't jump, but he had to confess he was slightly startled as he turned to look up at Hunter.
"What?" he stammered. "What, no, I'm fine, I..."
Hunter crossed his arms and blinked at him, the light of the moons falling full on his face and clearly showing he was unimpressed by Echo's protests. "No, you're NOT fine; but if you say it again, I might actually leave you here to struggle with that kriffing impossible jar."
Echo sighed in defeat. "I want to be able to do it myself."
"And you will, just not tonight," Hunter said, holding his hand out for the container. Echo handed it over and Hunter, gripping it tightly in both hands and straining to open it, added, "You've had to adjust to a lot in the past few days, Echo. And you're doing great - better, I think, than anyone else would be able to do. It might take some time to figure out how to do things like open a jar with one hand, but you'll get there. You're an ARC trooper, after all." The lid unsealed with a quiet schhh-lok and Hunter finished unscrewing it before handing the open jar back to Echo. "In the meantime, maybe let your brothers help you every once in a while?"
"Thanks," Echo murmured as he took the jar, hesitating slightly before adding, "And, you know, not just for this," indicating the rations.
Hunter nodded, turning away and taking a few steps back to the campsite before stopping and looking back over his shoulder.
"Oh, and maybe let Tech take a look at your prosthetics? You looked like a newborn shaak trying to find its feet when we were running up that rocky hill today. Tech wouldn't stop going on and on with me about calibration and leverage and friction coefficients or... something, and I'm pretty sure he was referring to your legs."
Smiling ruefully, Echo nodded - of course the squad had noticed his difficulty, he had been foolish to try to hide it from them; but he appreciated that they hadn't mentioned anything to him at the time, for that would have been mortifying. "Yes, sir," he replied; and with this promise, Hunter left him to eat in peace.
He hadn't realized just how hungry he was until he took his first bite of biscuit... He had never been a big eater, but now he finished his day's rations in record time and leaned back against the wall with a contented sigh.
And with his hunger satiated, he suddenly noticed his headache wasn't quite so bad.
@summer-of-bad-batch
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Local Flavors
Read here on Ao3!
Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 5 | "You're a bad liar." | "Need a hand?"
Rated: G | Words: 1733 | Summary: Domestic living has a learning curve.
Hunter stares at the basket of small, glass canisters, each filled with some kind of crushed plant or seed. He hopes the bewilderment he feels isn’t evident in his expression when he looks up at the woman, their immediate neighbor to the west, Kyly. “Thank you,” he says.
Kyly grins at him. “You don’t know what they are, do you?”
Hunter considers lying, but he considers a moment too long for it to be convincing. “No,” he admits.
“They’re seasonings,” Kyly says, as though that simply explains it.
It doesn’t.
“Ah,” Hunter says anyway.
Kyly rolls her eyes. “For cooking. For flavor.” She starts sorting through the bottles, rattling off the meaningless names of each. That’s when Hunter notices they are labeled in pretty, decorative font…probably hand written by Kyly herself.
“Let me know if you need any help figuring out what to use with what,” Kyly concludes with a charming, toothy smile. She wiggles her fingers when she waves goodbye, and walks away, disappearing around the corner.
A snicker behind him makes Hunter’s face and ears burn.
“Making friends, are we?” Crosshair asks. “Pretty friends.”
“Knock it off, Cross. Kyly just brought us a housewarming gift,” Hunter mutters, turning and shouldering past his brother to deposit the basket of seasonings on the kitchen counter.
Crosshair plucks one of the bottles from the basket, holds it up and shakes it. “What the kriff is this stuff?”
“Seasoning,” Hunter says. “For cooking.”
Crosshair manages to screw off the lid one handed, sniffing at the contents suspiciously. He makes a face. “I do not want this on my food.”
Hunter snatches it away from him. “You wouldn’t know good flavor if it bit you in the shebs,” Hunter says. He doesn’t mention that he can smell the seasoning in question without lifting it to his nose, nor does he admit that it doesn’t smell appetizing. Instead, he screws the lid on tight and puts the questionable seasoning aside.
“And you do?” Crosshair snarks back. “Maybe you should take Kyly up on her cooking lessons.”
Hunter rolls his eyes. “It isn’t intergalactic science. I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“You do that,” Crosshair says with an annoying smirk Hunter wants to slap off his face.
Crosshair must sense the threat, good soldier that he is, and slips through the front door before Hunter does anything drastic.
***
Omega and Wrecker return from the docks as the usual time for evening meal approaches. As they approach the house, Omega sniffs at the air. “Do you smell that?”
Wrecker takes a deep breath through his nose, carefree expression crumbling into a look of utter disgust. “It smells like something died.”
“That stench is dinner.” Crosshair slinks out from behind the house, arms crossed with a pleased look on his face.
Wrecker and Omega exchanged horrified glances.
“What happened to it?” Omega asks.
Crosshair flashes her a feral grin. “Hunter.”
Wrecker gapes. “How?
“Oh, I assure you he took great care in destroying every semblance of edibility,” Crosshair says.
Omega makes a face. “Hunter wouldn’t ruin food on purpose.”
“He’s trying to impress our neighbor by using the housewarming gift she brought this afternoon,” Crosshair says loftily, leaning against the railing of the front porch. “Problem is, he doesn't know kark about seasonings.”
“Hey, language,” Wrecker grumbles.
Omega, unfazed, clasps her hands together. “You mean Kyly?”
“Yep,” Crosshair says, popping the ‘p’ with finality.
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Omega coos, but another waft of clashing flavors drifts by, and her demeanor crumbles. “Maybe we should ask her how to use them instead of just…”
Crosshair huffs. “I tried to tell him that.” He pokes Omega in the forehead. “It's your turn.”
“Me?” Omega squeaks. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings!”
“You think I do?” Crosshair asks.
Omega narrows her eyes. “It hasn’t stopped you from telling him anything before.”
Crosshair shrugs, conceding the point.
“Well, one of us has to tell him,” Wrecker groans. “Otherwise, we’re never gonna eat anything good ever again.”
“Be our guest, Wrecker,” Crosshair says. “Break a poor man’s heart.”
Wrecker balks. “He has to know. I mean, can’t he smell it? What’s the point of enhanced senses if you can’t smell what you’re cooking?”
“As hard as it is to believe, Hunter isn’t perfect,” Crosshair retorts.
Omega’s shoulders sag. “Fine. I’ll tell him.”
***
The moment they walk in the door, Hunter is on them. “Just in time for late meal,” he says cheerfully.
Omega’s resolve melts like an ice cone in the late afternoon sun.
Crosshair gives her shoulder a nudge, and Omega subtly shakes her head. Her youngest brother sighs. “You said…”
“Shh,” Omega hisses.
They sit down at the table. Some sort of dish is displayed in the middle.
“It’s called a casserole,” Hunter tells them. “I found the recipe on the holonet.”
“Did you follow it?” Crosshair asks.
Omega kicks his shin under the table.
“What’s in it?” Wrecker eyes the food like it’s a coiled snake about to strike.
Hunter lists off the ingredients. “There were measurements, but we don’t have measuring spoons. Any seasonings we didn’t have, I substituted for ones that looked the same color and texture.”
“Maker, help us,” Crosshair breathes.
Omega takes a deep breath. Maybe it will taste better than it smells. Bravely, she wraps a fist around the serving spoon and scoops a generous helping of casserole onto her plate. She has to bite her cheek from grimacing at the reek that curls up in rolling steam.
She is surprised when Crosshair follows her example next, then Wrecker. Hunter serves himself last.
Then they sit in loud silence, waiting for someone else to try it first. Finally, Wrecker picks up his fork, spears the prongs into the casserole, and takes a bite. Omega and Crosshair watch him carefully, waiting for the facial contortion soon to follow the courageous act. Wrecker barely chews, swallowing with a gulp.
“Mmmm,” he says, but his eye twitches.
Hunter frowns, looks down at his own plate for a moment, then takes a huge bite. His eyes widen before he spits the mouthful out into his napkin. “It’s awful!”
“It’s not that bad,” Wrecker says.
Hunter casts him a withering look. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Crosshair heaves a heavy sigh, shoving his plate across the table. “In his defense, you should have known it was terrible before either of you took a bite.”
“What are you talking about?” Hunter asks, looking genuinely confused.
“Can’t you smell it? It smells terrible…Wrecker thought something died when he and Omega got back to the house…and they spent the day at the docks,” Crosshair says. Omega tries to catch Crosshair’s eye, tries to signal him to shut up, but Crosshair successfully misses every cue thrown his way as he adds, “I bet Kyly could smell it from her house.”
Hunter looks mortified. “And you didn’t tell me? Why didn’t you say something before I kriffing served it?” He stands up and begins gathering the plates, dumping the untouched casserole back into the dish. He gives a sharp whistle, and Batcher comes bounding into the dining area, a place she is normally forbidden. “Here, girl. Got something special for you,” Hunter says, putting the dish on the ground.
Batcher snuffles at it loudly before slowly backing away.
Omega can’t help the snort of laughter that bubbles up, and she claps both hands over her mouth to try and stifle it. She doesn’t dare make eye contact with Wrecker or Crosshair.
“Well,” Hunter mutters, “looks like we’ll be eating in the market tonight.”
***
The next morning, Omega knocked on Kyly’s door. The woman answered immediately. “Omega! What a pleasant surprise. I was just making morning tea. Please, please, won’t you join me?”
Before Omega could answer one way or another, she was pulled inside and guided to a lovely little table covered in a crocheted cloth and a vase stuffed full of wild island flowers. Kyly left to the kitchen and returned with another cup and saucer and placed them at the other seat.
“Do you take cream or sugar?” Kyly asks, sitting down across from Omega and pouring the hot, aromatic beverage into Omega’s delicate cup.
Omega admires the thin curving teacup, so different from the thick mugs her brothers drank caf from each morning. “I like both, please,” Omega says.
Kyly drops two large lumps of sugar and a generous splash of cream. Omega carefully imitates Kyly in stirring the tea with a spoon, the soft tink, tink, tink sounding absolutely musical.
“Now, what can I do for you?” Kyly asks.
“I wanted to thank you for the seasonings you brought yesterday,” Omega says. She takes a careful sip of tea and is pleasantly surprised by its mild, sweet flavor.
Kyly smiles. “I grew the herbs in my garden and dried them myself. Have you gotten to try any of them yet?”
“Hunter used some last night,” Omega admits carefully. “I’m not sure we know how to use them…properly. We grew up on rations and formulated meals from Kamino. We don’t have a lot of experience being–” Omega searches for the proper word.
“Domestic?” Kyly supplies.
Omega grins.
“Perhaps,” Kyly says slowly, “I might be able to lend a hand.”
***
“I need your help,” Omega says, standing in Hunter’s doorway.
Hunter is towling his hair dry after washing up from his morning and afternoon spent down on the docks with his brothers. He glances at his sister. “With what?”
“Late meal,” Omega chirps happily, bouncing on her toes.
Hunter levels her an unamused glare. “Hard pass.”
“Ah, c’mon, Hunter,” Omega says. “I promise it will turn out better than last night.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Hunter deadpans.
“Kyly told me this recipe is Hunter-proof,” Omega says, matching Hunter’s tone; however, her eyes are glittering with stark amusement.
Burning embarrassment scorches up Hunter’s neck and across his face. “Kyly said that?”
“Well,” Omega amends gleefully, “maybe she didn’t say Hunter-proof.”
Hunter rolls his eyes. “Fine. But if this goes wrong, we’re blaming you. I can only be responsible for one botched supper a week.”
“Fine by me,” Omega says, shrugging one shoulder and grinning at him.
Hunter huffs and follows his giggling sister into the kitchen.
***
That night, when a hearty fish stew tastes every bit as wonderful as it smells, Omega gives Hunter all the credit.
END
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Useful Skill
Phee and Crosshair come to an understanding
Ao3
Rating: G
Word Count: 960
Hope y'all enjoy!!
@summer-of-bad-batch
Phee lisented as Crosshair cursed and struggled through his task. He didn’t know she was there since he probably would have snarked at her to leave if he did. She hadn’t even meant to sneak up on him in the first place, but then she heard a cursed shout which scared a poor moon-yo. When she went to find out the source, she discovered a very frustrated sniper as he struggled with his prosthetic hand. He seemed to be trying to do some maintenance on it but wasn’t making much progress. After a few more curses and a handful of groans, she decided enough was enough.
“Need a hand?” she asked as she approached closer.
He briefly lifted his eyes, not surprised she was standing there. He tinkered a bit more before he finally gave up and threw the tool to the ground.
“Be my guest,” he hissed as he turned away but held his hand out for her. She raised a skeptical brow but picked up the tool and sat a respectable distance from the sulking man. Both for his comfort and her safety. Can never be too sure if someone bites when aggravated.
“What seems to be the problem?” She asked as she took his hand to inspect it. When he remained quiet, she glanced up with an expectant look and found him still turned away from her.
“Listen, as much as I understand you don’t like me, I can’t fix a problem if I don’t know what it is.”
He finally turned to her with an annoyed frown but finally spoke, “Blasted thing won’t respond when I try to do anything. I pick something up only to end up dropping it two minutes later.”
She hummed as she turned back to the offensive item in question. With a slight press of her finger, she opened the compartment that hid all the wiring. She inspected the wiring, carefully using the tool to push aside the wiring so she wouldn’t accidentally cause him pain.
As she worked, she could feel Crosshair’s eyes watching her every move. It wasn’t so much annoying as it was curious. He usually kept their interactions to a minimum. Hunter assured he was like that with everyone when he first met them and to be fair to Crosshair she has enjoyed getting under his skin just a little too much. He reminded her of Tech, although she used a different method to get under his skin. She sometimes made it a game to see how red she could get his cheeks in the shortest amount of time. Although the things he could say, she could swear made her heart stop.
With one final click, she finished and handed the tool back to him.
“Should work smoothly now,” she announced as she stood back up and dusted herself. She watched as he flexed his trembling fingers, testing the movements. After a moment he nodded, so she turned to take her leave.
“I don’t hate you, you know?” he said, causing her to turn back. He now stood, massaging the back of his prosthetic hand as he stared at the ground.
“Yeah, I know. I also know I don’t make it the easiest for you.”
“Yeah, well I suppose I could be less cruel.”
She hummed but said nothing. Guess they were both at fault.
“Where did you learn how to do that anyway?” he asked, “You don’t seem-”
“Like the smart type?”
“Your words, not mine.”
She gave a small laugh with a shake of her head.
“Learned from Brown Eyes.” Crosshair paused in mistrations. “He said it could be used for more than just prosthetics. Like when I need to repair Mel.”
Now it was Crosshair’s turn to hum. She almost decided to turn back but then he spoke up again.
“What,” a pause, “what was he to you?”
That took her by surprise. She figured he had been filled in on their relationship by the others or at least had an idea of it. Maybe he wanted a better understanding.
“Well I’d say we’re what you hope to be with Jana,” she said, unable to resist the chance to tease him. It worked, with his mouth immediately turning into a scowl as his cheeks darkened, if only slightly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a bad liar, you know that right? Most of you are. Funny how the sweetest one of all of you is the best liar.”
That made him actually bark a short laugh, which in turn made her smile. He deserved a good laugh. He and his siblings. If there was one thing she enjoyed more than teasing Tech, it was making him laugh. He had a great laugh. Not too bad of a smile either. She missed that smile. So kriffing much.
“To answer your question,” she began as she looked down, “We never had a chance to define what we were.”
Crosshair nodded and didn’t press further. It felt strange to talk about it. Shep, Hunter, and Wrecker never asked, but Shep wasn’t a pushy person and the latter two had more pressing matters. It sort of felt nice to let out in the open. While it hurt, it made it real. Whatever they were, it was real.
“Thanks again for the hand,” he interrupted her thoughts.
“Yeah, well, you know where to find me if you need me.”
“Right, I’ll be sure to look for where there's buried treasure.”
“Oh he’s got jokes now,” she laughed, not the slightest bit upset.
“I’m full of surprises.”
With that, he wandered off, leaving Phee with her thoughts once more. As she watched him go, she secretly hoped that Crosshair and Jana would have the chance she never did.
I like to think it took a bit before Phee and Crosshair got along, but now that they've teamed up, pray for Hunter's sanity lol
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