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electrikworm · 6 months

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5 times Wrecker protected his siblings and 5 times they protected him: Chapter 1

During a mission, Wrecker keeps droids off of Crosshair's back.

Content warning: Blood and injury

This fic plays sometime during the Clone Wars before Echo joined the batch.

Read on Ao3

“My position's been compromised.” Crosshair hisses into his comlink, taking out three B1 battle droids approaching him in quick succession.

It had been the perfect location for Crosshair to work from, a cliff overlooking the entirety of the small outpost they're clearing out. Now he had droids marching at him up the slope he himself climbed only fifteen minutes ago. Moving behind a slight raise in the rocks for better cover, Crosshair sighs. It's always something.

“I can't cover your backs if mines being shot at.” he continues, firing shot after shot at the approaching hoard.

“On it!” Wrecker responds, far louder than necessary. Crosshair has half a mind to snap at him for it, not that doing so in the past had ever made Wrecker manage his volume.

“We can do without Wrecker if you thin their numbers from up there Crosshair.” Hunter says. “Contact us when he reaches you.”

Crosshair hears the distressed screams of droids meeting a violent end at Wreckers hands long before he sees the oversized clone come up the slope. He is a little surprised at how fast Wrecker got there. He must have ran the whole way.

“He's here, you can proceed.” Crosshair informs Hunter and Tech, turning his back on the fighting going on behind him. The droids have their hands full with Wrecker now.

He quickly spots Hunter and Tech through his scope, immediately starting on clearing hard to reach opponents in their path. He gets six shots, all perfect hits, in before Wrecker makes it all the way to him and for some kriffing reason decides that distracting Crosshair is a good idea.

“I've got you, kih'vod, don't worry!” Crosshair can hear the grin in his voice, just about catches the thumbs up Wrecker waves in his direction too when he snaps to look at his vod.

“Stow it.” Crosshair spits. “Do your job so I can do mine.”

Wrecker does listen, and although the sound of him fighting is still irritatingly loud, Crosshair can tune that out. A sense of calm overcomes him as he falls into the familiar rhythm of aiming and firing.

Hunter had pointed out before how Crosshairs heart rate and breathing even out when he's concentrating, saying you could almost mistake him for being asleep, were it not for the shots fired from his Firepuncher.

Tech occasionality calls out coordinates, Crosshair finding and eliminating the target there in fractions of seconds. Otherwise he just takes out any droid that would hinder Hunter and Techs progress. They clear the outpost at an efficient pace, especially with some of their forces diverted to Crosshair, and such, Wrecker.

Crosshair allows himself to say a slightly smug “T-1's down.” into their shared comm channel when he hits the tactical droid square in the head in the split second it stood a little too far away from its cover. After that, it's just picking off the stragglers.

Crosshair's doing a final sweep of the outpost when something hits him on the back.

A B1 battle droid's arm he discovers as he turns round. Wrecker's standing there with the rest of the droid in his hands, helmet propped on the top of his head, grinning. Crosshair glares at him, confident the large clone knows exactly how his vod is looking at him even with the helmet.

Wrecker steps over the piles of scrap that used to be droids to approach Crosshair, no doubt to offer him a hand up from where he's been laying on the floor for the past forty-five minutes. He refuses the hand offered to him, less out of spite, more because he noted how heavily Wrecker is limping and the fact he has his other hand firmly pressed to his side.

“Did you count how many clankers you destroyed?” Wrecker asks. A stupid question: Of course he counted. Crosshair choses to forgo answering that for now.

“Did you break something?” he asks, gesturing at the side Wrecker is clutching. Experimentally Wrecker pushes his fingers against his ribs, grimacing as he does so.

“Yeah, think so.”

“Are you okay to walk?” Crosshair continues, pointing at the leg Wrecker was hesitation to put weight on. From what Crosshair can see, Wrecker's right thigh plate has a dent on its side.

“Yeah.” Wrecker answers, taking a step to prove so. “Should be fine.”

Crosshair comms Hunter, informing him that he'll be heading back to the Marauder with Wrecker due to an injury.

They barely get two steps before Wrecker says: “I destroyed 42.”

Crosshair laughs. “That's cute. My counts at 64.” The way Wreckers grin drops makes Crosshair laugh again.

“How?” Wrecker exclaims, having stopped walking in his confusion.

Crosshair could go into detail, explain how the conditions were ideal and he had free reign to hit any droid he could see. But where's the fun in that?

“Guess I'm just better than you.” he says instead. Wrecker huffs in annoyance.

“You sure you're not cheating? You're not counting B2's twice or something, right? We agreed that all droids count once!”

“I don't cheat.” Crosshair scoffs.

“You cheat at cards.”

“I cheat at cards because it pisses Tech off.” Crosshair pauses for a moment, then continues with a smirk. “But, since you got shot in the leg to let me continue shooting, we can count this as an honorary win for you.”

The look of indignation of Wreckers face is possibly the funniest thing he's seen all year.

“Absolutely not! I'm not taking some pity win!” Wrecker shakes his head in annoyance and continues walking down the slope. Crosshair almost laughs again, but as Wrecker takes another step, he doubles over and grabs at his injured leg. Crosshair's caught up to him in a few steps.

“Kark.” Wrecker hisses under his breath, eyes pressed closed. “I think I'll take you up on your offer now...”

“What, the pity win?”

“No!” Wrecker exclaims, then continues quieter. “The 'helping me walk'”

If Crosshair wanted to be really irritating, he'd point out that he had never offered that, and had only asked about Wreckers ability to walk.

Rather than doing that, he simply moves close enough to Wreckers side for him to sling his arm across Crosshairs shoulder. The snipers knees almost give out at the sudden weight. He voices his annoyance with a sigh, but starts walking.

The steep incline leading to the cliffs edge is distinctly more challenging when you're acting as a crutch for a man twice your weight. Crosshair focuses entirely on keeping his footing.

The barely suppressed noises of pain coming from Wrecker are bothering Crosshair. They seem to get louder and harder to contain every step they take. When a slightly miscalculated step brushing their legs together causes Wrecker to struggle to bite back a scream, Crosshair's had enough.

“Sit down, I'm taking a look at that leg.” Crosshair says, tone setting it clear that he's not going to argue about this. Wrecker, predictable, still tries to do exactly that.

“It's fine.” he says, refusing to look at Crosshair.

“Sit your shebs down, or you can show me exactly how fine you are by crawling back to the Marauder on your own.” Crosshair hisses. This time, Wrecker listens, lowering himself to a rock. Crosshair crouches next to him.

Turns out, his thigh plate hasn't got a dent, it has a concave. The shot that hit and broke through the thigh plate bent the sharp edges of the armor piece inwards, digging them into Wreckers leg. Every bit of movement must have pushed the jagged duraplast deeper into the surrounding muscle. Crosshair curses. He should have known to check the injury earlier.

“You'll bleed out if we leave that. Give me your medkit.” Crosshair states, holding his hand out demandingly. The sheepish look on Wreckers face tells him everything he needs to know.

He kriffing forgot it again.

“You're unbelievable.” With a sigh, Crosshair pulls his own medkit out of his pack. Wrecker mutters a barely audible apology.

When Crosshair tries to unlatch Wreckers thigh plate, the large clone jerks his leg away.

“Can't we stop the bleeding without taking that off?” Wrecker tries. Crosshair's dealt with Wreckers aversion to medical procedures many times over the years.

“No.”

The thigh plate comes off with a sickening wet tear as the damaged edges slip from the wound. The barely suppressed cry from Wrecker is worse. Crosshair puts a hand on his arm in apology. Only for a second, the amount of blood soaked into Wreckers blacks urges him to hurry.

“You're bleeding kriffing everywhere.” Crosshair groans. Wrecker needs stitches. Those can't be done here. Not with Crosshairs limited med kit, not in these unsanitary conditions, not without painkillers. Covering the gaping wound with a bacta patch and bandaging it tightly is the best he can do for Wrecker right now.

The way Wreckers clenching and unclenching his hands, Crosshairs almost worried he'll break something.

Crosshair observes his work for a moment. When no blood stains the white fabric, he stands up, extending a hand to Wrecker. “Get up.”

Wrecker complies, voicing gratitude as he does so. Crosshair is unclear weather it is directed at the first aid, or the help with standing up.

The rest of the walk back to the Marauder is remarkably uneventful. Crosshair keeps an eye on Wrecker. Save for a slight shade of red seeping through the bandages when the ships already in sight and his pinched expression, Wreckers condition doesn't worsen. Tech and Hunter aren't back at the Marauder yet when they arrive.

Crosshair gets Wrecker to sit down on the lowest of the three wall mounted beds.

If available, Tech usually takes charge of any medical emergency, however every member of clone force 99 knows their way around a medkit. A medic was never a part of the squad, having basic medical knowledge became a necessity. It takes no more than a few seconds for the med scanner to display its verdict.

“None of your broken ribs are displaced, but stitching that leg up is going to be an absolute joy.” Crosshair snarks, making Wrecker huff in amusement. That in turn makes him pull a face, pressing his hand firmly to his injured side. Crosshair uses that distraction to get a hypo of painkillers in him before Wrecker can argue about it. With his free hand now at his neck, Wrecker shoots Crosshair a look, offended at his brothers deceit.

After disinfecting the injury, Crosshair is proven right: sewing the laceration on Wreckers thigh together is a pain, both for him and his vod. Despite the painkillers and numbing spray applied, Wrecker's in obvious agony as Crosshair pulls the jagged edges of the wound together. He manages to hold remarkably still, making Crosshair's tedious job easier.

Crosshair is only halfway through by the time Tech and Hunter return. Both linger near Crosshair and Wrecker for a moment, asking questions and standing in Crosshairs light.

Crosshair doesn't voice his annoyance. Them conversing with Wrecker is no doubt a welcome distraction from the pain for the large clone. After they've both looked at the med scanner, as well as asked Crosshair if he needs help, Tech and Hunter finally clear off.

Once the injury is closed up and re-bandaged, there's not much more he can do for Wrecker. He grabs a cold pack from the medkit, kneading it one handedly to activate the chemicals inside as he looks for Lula. Once the stuffed tooka is retrieved, Crosshair tosses both the items to Wrecker, who grins at the sight of the stuffed animal he's grown unbelievably attached to over the years.

Sitting down next to Wrecker on his uninjured side, Crosshair leans his head against his brothers shoulder. Saying the right thing to make his vode fell better isn't one of Crosshair's skills. But offering comfort through proximity, in a small way like this? That he can do.

Going off of Wreckers tired but content sigh, it's working.

Next to him, Wrecker's practising the breathing exercises Tech taught him to do when his ribs are broken. The first few times he sustained a similar injury, Tech had to constantly remind him to do them. Now, he does them automatically.

“Thanks for watching my back.” Crosshair says.

“It was nothing, Cross. If anything I should be thanking you. You had to drag me all the way to the Marauder!” Wrecker retorts, smile in his voice. Crosshair sighs. There's no point in trying to get Wrecker to accept gratitude for something like this.

They've been on mission after mission for two and a half weeks now. Crosshair hopes they'll be afforded a break. The whole squads tired, lack of sleep and constant combat stacking up over the rotations. Everyone's baring minor half healed injuries, and now with the state Wrecker's in, pushing on wouldn't be advisable.

Not that any of this would stop Wrecker. Crosshair knows that his ori'vod would keep on fighting if asked to, even if he'd have to do so fuelled solely by caf and pain meds.

At some point, Wrecker falls asleep leaning against Crosshair. He scoffs when he notices, but wouldn't dream of moving or waking his vod. Crosshair will most likely fall asleep himself some time soon. For now, he sits looking around the Marauder uninterestedly, studying the posters on the walls in detail, whilst his brother snores softly next to him.

#tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tw blood #my writing #I use kih'vod for little sibling because the Mando'a prefix kih' is used the same way you'd use ori'#so it makes sense to me for kih'vod to be the opposite of ori'vod.

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