#tcw fics

[freesia-writes]

Am I gonna start something for every day of the week? Not that I'm aware of, LOL. But let's give this a try? Maybe I'll alternate fanfic and fanart... Or make a separate day. Who knows.

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[corrieguards]

Cody x reader Summary: The next time Cody spots you, he’s in a much better mood. Good enough that he decides to brave asking you out. Word Count: 2,5k C/W: none, Boil and Waxer are the ones being little shits this time A/N: finally finished the pt.2 for this fic!! Highly recommend you read the first one first as it is referenced a couple times. P.S may or may not be thinking of a pt.3 👀

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

The next time Cody spotted you, it was quite a few rotations later. 42 full standard rotations to be exact. Not that he’d been keeping count or anything.

He has sitting in the mess hall of the Resolute, Waxer and Boil playfully bickering on the bench in front of him. He tuned them out, doing a lazy survey of the tables. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, troopers laughing and joking together through mouthfuls of rations.

It had been another joint mission with the 501st. One that run much smoother than last time. What was supposed to be a good 2 months worth of mission had ended up getting wrapped up in a little under a month, with no need for reinforcements and minimal casualties - which would explain the good moods.

A tiny part of him almost wished he had sustained some sort of injury. Just a small one, enough to warrant him a trip to visit you in the med bay. But he’d quickly squashed down that idea. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but every time his thoughts strayed to you they were getting more and more idiotic.

He shakes his head, continuing his glance around the room before doing a double take when he reaches the medic table. Talk of the devil.

There you are, sitting next to Kix and smiling that same cheeky smile that had been playing on repeat in his head since he'd last seen you in the med-bay. Kix leans over to whisper something in your ear and Cody watched as you snort, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching up in an irritatingly cute way. Adorable.

A group of troopers walks into his line of vision, blocking you momentarily from his sight and effectively breaking his trance. He blinks a couple times, running a hand through his hair and lowering his gaze to the table in front of him.

Kriff, he needed to get a grip. You were gonna think he was some kind of creep staring at you from across the room like that.

He turns, trying to shift his focus on whatever Boil and Waxer are bickering about. Something about binders? He manages to catch a few sentences before his mind is straying again, eyes shifting to zero in on you before he can help it.

It was like you caught him in some sort of tractor beam, keeping him stuck on you and slowly slowly reeling him in.

You laugh at something Kix says, throwing your head back. Your neck is exposed and his eyes are drawn to it like a moth to a flame. It looks so soft, so delicate. He licks his lips subconsciously. How would it feel if he were to kiss it? suck it? What sounds would you make if he were to just graze his teeth-

" -mander, Commander!" Waxers hand waving in front of his face breaks his trance, shaking his head slightly to clear it.

Fuck, he'd been staring again.

He runs a hand through his head to ground himself, blinking a couple times before looking back up. He’s greeted by the sight of Boil and Waxer’s matching teasing smiles staring straight back at him.

He narrows his eyes at them suspiciously “What’re you two looking at?”

Boil smirks, sharing a look with Waxer who just shrugs, grinning “I think the more important question is who were you looking at Commander?"

Cody scoffs, rolling his eyes, but doesn’t deny it. They try again, Boil speaking up this time.

“So.. Who’s the poor sap you’re trying to kill with that death glare?

“It wasn’t a death glare” Cody grumbles, tilting his head to pointedly face Boil before uttering the next words “Although I can sure think of someone else who might be asking for one right about now.”

Boil seems unphased by the threat though, grinning as Waxer leans forward excitedly

“Aha! So you admit it, you were staring.”

“I wasn’t staring.” Cody grits out, crossing his arms in front of his chest “I was just… observing”

Boil raises an eyebrow, smiling teasingly “Observing?”

“Yeah. Observing.”

Waxer rolls his eyes, realising Cody isn’t going to give in - so he shifts to a different tactic “Okay… Fine, who were you observing so intently then?”

Just as Cody goes to roll his eyes, he faintly hears your laugh again, head tilting against his will until he can just peek around Boil's shoulder to catch a glimpse of your smile. You’re so pretty when you laugh.

Boil and Waxer both follow his gaze, twisting in their seats. Waxer chuckles, looking at Cody over his shoulder “The medic? From the 501st?”

As if you can hear them, Cody he watches in horror as you turn, startling slightly upon finding three troopers watching you from across the tables. You recover quickly though, eyes lighting up when you recognise the grumpy commander among them, raising your hand to send him a wave.

He cringes, raising his hand in an awkward half-wave, half-salute like he can’t quite decide which one is more appropriate.

You giggle, leaning over to excuse yourself from Kix before sliding out of your seat and heading towards his table.

Immediately, he stiffens, panic rising more and more as you get closer to the table. Kriff what if you’d noticed him staring? What was he supposed to say to that?

All thoughts screech to a halt when you come to a stop across the table from him, giving him one of those devastatingly adorable smiles. Fuck.

“Commander Cody” you greet him, giving him a small salute, cheeky smile still on your face.

With the way he's staring at you, anyone would think you'd just caught him falsifying reports or something. So you raise your hands in mock surrender.

“No need to looks so scared y’know, I promise I don’t have any needles on me this time."

He rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself.

“What’s this about needles?” a voice pipes up next to you and you turn, jumping slightly at seeing two troopers in 212th armour looking up at you from their seats.

You glance back at Cody, questioning look on your face. Cody takes the hint, nodding towards the two men as he introduces them to you.

“These are Waxer” you turn to look at the trooper he’s pointing to, smiling when he send you an excited wave

“And Boil” the second clone raises his cup in greeting, giving you a small nod.

The first one, Waxer you think, stretches out his hand for a handshake, smiling brightly “That’s us. Finest men of the 212th, at your service ma’am”

You accept the hand shake, chuckling when you hear Cody muttering under his breath "One time, I said that one time."

So you weren’t the only one who enjoyed getting on the Commander’s nerves. Good to know.

“Mind if I sit?”

Cody shrugs, waving his hand towards the benches in what you assume is a gesture of permission. You lift a leg to climb into the seat, stopping when you realise the two troopers are still sitting there, effectively taking up most of the space.

Cody frowns, turning to look pointedly at his men

“Don’t you two… Have somewhere to be?’”

“Nope.” Boil says, popping the p for emphasis, his brother next to him shaking his head in agreement. Cody's scowl deepens, raising a brow at both of them

“Well I suggest you find something to do before I choose it myself. Latrine duty’s been looking real empty for a while-”

Before you can blink, both men shoot up out of their seats, helmets tucked neatly under their arms.

“On second thought, we have that thing, don't we Waxer?”

You watch amused as his counterpart frowns, eyes widening in realisation when his brother gives him a sharp elbow to the ribs “Oh. Oh right yes… that thing. How could we forget.”

Their commander watches, unamused as they give him a salute, turning to you to give you a nod (and a wink from Waxer) before hurrying away together towards the doors.

You giggle, sliding into the seat and watching them disappear around the corner before looking back at the man in front of you. He's already staring straight back at you, and it makes you stomach flip pleasantly.

“They're funny.”

Cody grunts, rolling his eyes for what feels like the 6th time “They're a pain in my ass, that's what they are”

“I doubt anyone is ever not a pain in your ass Commander.” you smile, winking playfully “Except maybe me.”

“Especially you.”

You laugh merrily, not taking the comment to heart in the least. He watches again as your face lights up, eyes zeroing in of the crinkles on your nose as his stomach flutters uncomfortably. What the hell was wrong with him today?

He shifts in his seat, clearing his throat and quickly changing the subject.

“I though you said you were never going to bring up the needle incident again.”

You grin, tilting your head “Did I?”

He nods.

“You said, and I quote 'It’ll be our little secret’. Not much of a secret if you tell all my men.”

“Oh please, it was only two of them.”

“Trust me, telling Boil and Waxer is basically telling the whole GAR”

“Sorry, couldn't help it” You grin, not looking in the least bit sorry “It was too cute to resist.”

He scowls, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes

“…Cute?”

“Yeah, real cute”

“It was not cute, it was a moment of weakness.”

You shrug, grin only getting wider “Like I said, cute.”

Cody scoffs, but you don’t miss his cheeks warming just the slightest shade of pink “You're impossible.”

“Aww, thanks.” You quip back quickly, and he can't help the dumb smile pulling at the corners of his lips. You never missed a beat, and it was karking hot.

A surprisingly comfortable silence blankets the space between you before Cody clears his throat again.

“So… Got any plans for shore leave?” he asks, trying to keep him voice as neutral and nonchalan as he can.

It seems to work because you just shrug, hands fiddling with the cup on the table in front of you “Dunno, Kix was trying to convince me to head to 79’s with him and the boys.”

Cody perks up. 79’s was good, neutral ground, public enough that it would seem too obvious but still personal enough that he could get some one on one time with you. He shuffles forward in his seat, elbows leaning on the table

“And… Are you going?”

You glance up at him, narrowing your eyes teasingly “Why do you wanna know Commander?”

His lips part slightly, trying to think of a way to phrase it that didn’t make him seem too eager.

“Just wondering whether I should comm the Corries. Let them know to look out for trouble at 79’s tonight”

For a second, you look the tiniest bit crestfallen, like you were expecting a different answer.

But as quick as it's there, it already gone. Replaced by that fucking perfect smile that he's starting to get addicted to.

“No need Commander, I doubt I’ll be going anyway.”

Oh. Okay so definitely not the answer he was hoping for. He racks his brain, trying to think of a subtle way to pry further without seeming too eager.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn't even notice his comm beeping until you look down at his wrist, pointing at it.

“Don’t you maybe wanna answer that?”

He frowns, confused before his brain catches up, quickly lifting his wrist to his mouth and clicking the comm line open.

“Cody here” he grumbles, still scowling slightly at being interrupted. Another clones voice crackles through the comm, smile evident even through the transmission.

“Commander, we have a uh… situation down at the barracks sir”

“What kind of situation?” Cody asks carefully

“A ‘Boil and Waxer’ situation sir” the clone replies, Cody’s brows furrowing deeper at the sound of snickering in the background “You’d uh... better come down here, Sir."

Cody sighs, long and loud, scrubbing a hand down his face before muttering a reply “I’ll be there in 5”

He clicks the transmission closed, lifting his gaze to send you an apologetic look, but is surprised to see you still looking at him with the same smile as before, not in the least annoyed.

“Those the two from before? The ‘pain in your ass?” you inquire, biting your lip to quell your giggle and he grunts, nodding in conformation.

“Unfortunately.”

You chuckle, placing two hands on the table to push yourself up from your seat “Well, I’ll let you get to it Commander. I’ll see you ‘round”

You send him one more cheeky smile, before swiveling on your heels and turning to leave. Just as you go to take a step, Cody reaches out to grasp your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn, brows furrowing in question and he swallows, gathering up the courage to ask the question that’s been on the tip of his tongue.

Swallowing down his pride he takes his his hand of your arm, licking his lips. Fuck it. If he can body-tackle droids in the battle field, then he could handle a little rejection.

“Maybe I’ll see you outside the GAR uniform next time. Say… 2100 hours at 79’s, tonight?”

You turn to face him fully, smirking and tilting your head as a teasing tone takes over your voice.

“Commander, are you… asking me out?”

He shrugs, but the way he's still looking at you expectantly, hands clasped together behind his back betrays his nervousness. The next grin you give him though, is so genuine and blinding that it immediately sweeps all the doubts from his mind.

“It would be my pleasure” You smile, giving him the same stupid exaggerated bow as you did last time in the med bay. This time though, he doesn’t even try to hide his smile, eyes crinkling as he shakes his head fondly.

“I’ll see you there, Cody”

You send him one last wink over your shoulder, before turning and heading towards the doors. He watches you go, eyes unable to tear away from the back of your head until you’d slipped past the doors and out of sight. He slumps down in the seat again, dumb smile still on his face even after you’ve gone.

Kriff, you were something else.

Special taggies for @rain-on-kamino @justanothersadperson93 and @kixs-husband who convinced me to write a pt.2 Luv u babes💛

---

Pt.3 here

tag-list: @techs-feral-wife @nekotaetae @rain-on-kamino @dalu-grantkylo @sleepingsun501 @commander-sunshine @softsunburstlove @lucyysthings @plotlessvoid @clonesimp @dangraccoon @obixwan @inneedoffanfics

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[varpusvaras]

"What's wrong with you?" Twenny hears Seventeen ask Fiftys. "That's a longer face than the Long-necks necks if I've ever seen one."

"Twenny keeps carrying Tennie everywhere", Fiftys mutters.

"Jealous? And here I thought he got Tennie because you absolutely refused to be babied."

"Ew, no", Fiftys says. "But at this rate Tennie will forget how to walk, and then they will take him away, and then Twenny will cry."

Twenny grips Tennie tighter.

"He will not", he says. "And even if he does, I will keep carrying him. He's small."

"He won't be small forever", Seventeen points out. Twenny grips Tennie even tighter.

"He's my little brother", he says, or more states. "I will always carry him."

Seventeen decides to leave it at that, and that's just how Twenny likes it.

---

"You're gonna have to start carrying him on your back soon", Sixies says. "He's getting long. He looks like one of those bugs, with his legs sticking out like that."

Twenny knows that Tennie is sticking his tongue out at Sixies from where he is resting his head against Twenny's shoulder, his arms around Twenny's neck.

"He's too cute to look like a bug", Twenny says. "And I will carry him how I like."

---

He does have to start carry him on his back eventually. At that point Twenny is Cody and Tennie is Fox, and everyone has been telling him that he's just being stubborn and that it was already time for him to stop carrying Fox around like a tubie.

It's way too early for Cody, still.

---

"I didn't know you were such a light-weight", Wolffe teases Fox, as Cody drags him out of 79's.

"Don't bully him", Cody tells Wolffe. "I've seen you under the table too many times for you to be able to say anything."

Wolffe just rolls his eyes as Cody pulls Fox onto his back.

"I'm taking you to our barracks for tonight", Cody says. "You can go back to the Guard's base in the morning."

Fox hums something against the back of Cody's neck. He really is light, Cody thinks then, and he cranes his head back to look at Fox. The only thing he can see is his little brothe's bangs.

"They feeding you enough here?" He asks, and Fox hums something again, too far gone to actually answer, and Cody hoists him higher and tells himself to ask again in the morning.

---

"Don't you think I'm a bit too big for this now?" Fox asks him, his voice coming muffled from where he is speaking against Cody's pauldron.

"Never", Cody answers instantly. "You're my little brother. You cannot be too big for this."

"Okay", Fox answers, and then he is quiet, as Cody carries him up to the higher levels, where the Guard's medics are already coming towards them.

Cody feels weird when he puts Fox down on the gurney. Tight. Too light, like there is a chunk of his flesh suddenly missing.

He ignores it. Fox just has a light concussion and a sprained ankle. He could've gotten himself out of there by himself, by all accords, not that it had mattered to Cody in the slightest. Fox is his little brother. Of course Cody can come and carry him back home.

Fox is fine, and Cody is right there, his hands ready to reach.

---

His dreams have shifted, lately. Almost every night, Cody is standing there, alone, his hands reaching for something, but his arms stay empty, too empty, too light. There is a piece of Cody missing, a piece that is almost the size of himself, if not at the same time impossibly bigger, a gaping wound in his flesh that will not heal.

It will not heal even when he is awake, now, spilling his blood freely wherever he goes, leaving a trail behind him that only he can see.

Cody knows grief. He knows it like it's the second nature of him by now, but something is wrong with it this time. It's like he is already grieving, even though nothing has yet happened.

His General looks at him, sometimes, and from the look in his eyes Cody wonders if he can see the blood as well, if he somehow knows that this is Cody's destiny, and that there is nothing he or anyone else can do about it.

Cody carries it, like the soldier he is.

---

CC-2224 carries it, like the brother he is, and he tries to understand how something can be too light and too heavy at the same time.

Perhaps it is just like how he can be a big brother without a little brother, his arms heavy with the emptiness they now carry.

[freesia-writes]

HI HELLO HI IT'S ME :D

reblog if you write fanfic and you would die of happiness and then become instant best friends with anyone who crashed into your DMs to talk about your fics

[adhd-coyote]

“General Kenobi, you claim an assassin killed the Chancellor?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, neither I nor Commander Fox saw them, as they used a flash bomb to disorient us and fled too quickly for us to follow.”

“And where, exactly, did they flee? No one reported seeing anyone leave this office.”

“Why, they fled through the broken window, of course.”

“What broken window?”

“That one.” Kenobi points. The previously intact window shatters, as if hit by a very strong invisible force. Neither Kenobi nor the Marshal Commander so much as twitch.

“Are you alright, sir?” Commander Fox asks, all concern. “You must be very tired, if you didn’t notice the clearly broken window. You should go rest. It’s okay, General Kenobi and I can take it from here.”

“Yes,” Kenobi agrees, prim and proper. He raises a hand, fingers slightly curled, and his voice takes on a different note. “Go home and take a nice, long nap. This will all be handled by the time you wake.”

“I will go home and take a nice, long nap. This will all be handled by the time I wake.”

“Very good. Have a nice evening.”

[smoosey]

For @ooboowoonkoonooboo's The Land of my Father

For her exquisitely crafted story, and these men she's whumped so lovingly. Here's to finally, freely home, and the lifetime of tender kisses that await them. 🤍

The galaxy was dark to him. A new little world under the blanket and behind his eyes. Nothing but gentle hands on his face, the sounds of the night, and the start and stop of Obi-wan trying to speak. Cody pressed closer and the world warmed – breath over his hair, lips against his brow, and a sure heartbeat under his ear.  

(You're almost done, my friend!! Just the sweet epilogue left!! Go scraps gooo!!!!!)

[artemisdesari-blog]

In the vein of things that I want to write, don't have time to write right now, and don't want to forget either: timeloop Cody AU.

Cody makes it two weeks into his deployment before he's killed. It's not his fault, wrong place, wrong time. He wakes up on Kamino the morning Alpha Seventeen introduces him to his new general. He figures it's a weird dream, he knows he's been assigned to Kenobi and he looked him up. Two weeks in he feels the oddest sense of deja vu and takes a few steps to the left and narrowly avoids being skewered by a piece of an exploding LAAT/i. This time he makes it three months before he is killed and he wakes up on Kamino the morning he is due to meet Kenobi. And it keeps on happening. Cody dies and he wakes up at the start again. He tries to tell people, Seventeen doesn't listen, Kenobi finds it fascinating but doesn't have the time to look into it, General Yoda is concerned, but every time someone overhears and he ends up sent to decommissioning even over his general’s protests. So he keeps quiet, remembers as much as he can and saves as many brothers as he can. He can't save them all, sometimes saving one is what gets him killed and he could have gone for all eternity without knowing what getting eaten by a Rishi eel or being blown to pieces feels like. He does his best. He makes it to Utapau and Order 66 happens. It gets hazy after that, but when he surfaces from the influence of the chip he takes the only path out he can think of and wakes up on Kamino. Now it isn't just about making it to the end. It's about stopping himself from killing his Jedi, who he grows closer and closer to with every loop. It's about preventing genocide at the hands his people, only for them to be wiped out in return. He reaches Utapau without finding the answer too many times, ending things before he can take that unforgivable step. Then he hears about Fives and Tup, and Kix disappearing after Echo is recovered from the Techno Union. The next loop he gets to Fives first, gets all the information, and sends himself back to the beginning on Kamino so that can investigate and get the chips out of as many brothers as possible before the end in the hope that he can succeed and the Jedi and the clones.

Obviously, there are going to be massive Codywan vibes all through. I am incapable of not putting Codywan vibes into things at this point. It will involve Cody ferreting out all the little horrors and secrets, especially a couple of Anakin related ones, and the fallout of passing those on at the wrong time. We would have Obi-Wan catching weird Force vibes from Cody and Anakin getting more and more suspicious of the vibes and the feelings each loop. Obviously, eventually, things would be fixed, but only after many loops and shenanigans.

I just don't have the time to write it right now, but I also don't want it to languish forgotten. Maybe I'll come back to it, maybe I won't. But here it is.

[izzystizzys]

As High Marshall Commander, a title foisted on him by the Galaxy’s fakest bitch aka Chancellor Palpatine, Fox theoretically has privileges and authorities like no other clone. In practice, he has a headache and gets ignored more obviously than before.

What he also has is a fancy new function on his personal comm unit modified to broadcast GAR-wide to all commanding officers, up to and including Jedi. It gathers dust next to his own modified button that sees much better use - a private channel to Stone, the only vod that will let Fox bitch at him to his heart’s content without hanging up (Thire) or bitching right back (Thorn).

It’s been a long shift of 72 hours, the maximum Stabby allows him to do without a well-placed hypo to the neck, when Fox finally collapses on his rickety cot in the Command quarters and hits the private comm connection to Stone without looking. He’s already rolling his eyes so hard it tweaks at the migraine that’s been building since hour 18 and heaving a put-upon sigh.

“Everyone is stupid, Stone, and asking to be thrown face-first from the Dome balustrades”, he begins, settling into a low, dead tone of voice to warm to the building monologue. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. “I swear to haran I’m going to wring Amedda’s stringy neck one of these days. I don’t know what magical Force gods his mother pissed off, but they made sure to punish her and the Galaxy at large a hundred times over. He sucks the joy and competence out of every room like a black hole of stupid. I’d call him a has-been, but I trust in the power of nepotism and also just don’t believe he ever was. I swear he’s doing it on purpose and - oh, kriffing Sith-damned hells, you know who’s definitely doing it on purpose?! The kriffing Chancellor, that wrinkly ass-faced ballsack!”

Taking a deep breath, Fox lets that sit in his chest for a moment, indulging in the feeling of bright weightlessness. “I swear he’s trying to keep the war going - no one man can be that incompetent and still draw breath, not even Amedda or Taa. Goddamn Taa - but anyways, kriffing hell, Stone, either the senility isn’t an act or he’s a bad cartoon villain from Dooby Scoo. Yes Sir, sending Senator Amidala to a Seppie-infested planet for negotiations is a great idea after her fourth bomb threat of the week. No Sir, I can’t hear you cackling evilly with Count Dooku under your lame two-credit robe as you’re definitely not colluding with the Republic’s enemies. What, you have a red lightsaber?! Oh, of course I don’t know what that means, I was dropped on the head as a tubie!”

Barely pulling in a harsh breath, Fox continues, palms pressing into his eyeballs hard enough to cause sparks. “And speaking of lightsabers and senile fucks, haran smite my ass off but who the kriff thought it’d be a good idea to give absolute tactical and military authority to the kriffing eldritch space monks! The Force didn’t bless them with the collective good sense it gave to a kriffing rock, and I’m tired of pretending otherwise! Has anyone kriffing read the Theed Convention of Sentient Rights in Wartimes?! NO?!! Well, color me UNSURPRISED, because war crimes ARE NOT! GOOD! BATTLE! TACTICS!!”

“They run around in crop tops, Stone, in crop tops! Oh, the Force provides - WELL I’M GOING TO PROVIDE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS, AND IT’S GOING TO HURT BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT WEARING KRIFFING ARMOUR!”

“Sure, let’s send the preteens into active warzones under heavy artillery in kriffing party wear! Surely nothing will ever go wrong! And give them commanding positions equivalent to CC-clones, WHO WERE LITERALLY GENETICALLY CREATED FOR IT! WITH A DECADE OF INTENSE TRAINING! LET’S DO THAT, BECAUSE WE’RE ALL KRIFFING STUPID!”

He’s gesturing wildly at the ceiling now, face heating up as his blood boils beneath the surface. “And you know what really gets my lowers in a twist, apart from the preteen commanding officers and blatant kriffing high treason and war profiteering?! Is it the complete lack of recognition? Gratitude? Basic sentient rights?! No, Stone, no, I would take all that in stride if it meant I never had to see Skywalker and Amidala kriffing canoodle right in front of me again, and pretend like it isn’t the galaxy’s worst conflict of interest case in the making!”

“By all levels of Sith-hell, what the kriff is wrong with that woman? You have it all, you could have anyone, and you choose that twatwaffle?! And then they have the gall to lock themselves in a broom closet for twenty minutes straight and have me guard it! ‘Oh yes, Senator, naturally we all go rattling brooms with our good friends! Nothing dodgy happening at all! I definitely believe you were looking for detergent and have used a washing machine before!’ The absolute nerve on those two! And then last week - you’ll never believe this - High General Windu passed by, and I swear he looked like he wanted to throw himself off the roof! I’ve never been less impressed by anyone in my life, and I’m batch-mates with Bly!”

“Speaking of Bly, that little bitchtit - if I have to edit one more, one more kriffing propaganda piece of him staring at General Secura’s bits, I’m going to stab my eye out! And if I have to edit one more of Secura staring at his bits, I’m going to stab the other one out! The only good thing I have to say about them is they’re more subtle than Skywalker and Amidala, which means nothing really. I will never understand that woman - but then she’s worked with Jar Jar Binks for a decade and not had a nervous breakdown, so she either has nerves of steel or is on some good-ass drugs.”

“Girl, your choices. And you know what else is a choice? Kote kriffing roundhouse-kicking heads off droids when he has a perfectly good blaster right there! I don’t know what the Longnecks put in his tube, but I hope to kriff it’s not contagious. I’d say I’m glad he has Kenobi to keep him in check, but that man wouldn’t know common sense if it punched his nose clean off his face. Flirting with General Grievous, ugh. I’d say he can do better, but honestly, they deserve each other.”

“And Wolffe - “, panting, Fox pauses, considering. “Well, Wolffe is an asshole and stupid, and I hate him because he’s stupid and has a stupid face. Also he keeps drunkenly submitting adoption paperwork on General Koon’s behalf - I wish I could say something mean about that, but honestly, his existence is roast enough. Anyways, bitches are trying me today, and by bitches I mean everyone. Commander Fox signing off to go not commit treason, unfortunately.”

Thoroughly powered out, Fox sinks into his hard mattress with a deep sigh. Several seconds of silence reign, and then his comm unit starts blaring in alarm.

Somewhere in the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu is knocked flat on his ass by a gargantuan shatterpoint exploding.

[freesia-writes]

Would you please… Be so kind… As to bless us all… By reblogging this with your NUMBER ONE WORK of 2023? If you could give the first place blue ribbon prize to one piece of your own creation, what would it be and why? 😎

and yes, only one this time. 😉

[clonemando]

Imagine: Fox has Force-given plot armor, basically nothing is able to kill him.

Palpatine tries to lightning him at point blank and it... Just doesn't work. Fox gives him a tired look and finishes his report.

Palpatine tries to chop him with his lightsabers but they just go out as soon as they get close to Fox and Fox sighs deeply and explains that he can't die. That when he was a cadet he saved a aiwha and it turned into some green force goddess chick who blessed him and ever since no one can harm him. He's jumped from the top of Tipoca city, sat at the bottom of Kamino's ocean, left a ship while in space and walked around outside. His brothers have taken to surprise attacking him for the hell of it. Nothing.

Palpatine grins thinking of how great this is having Fox as his servant after all and tries to activate Fox's chip.

Nothing.

Fox sighs again. The Republic is corrupt and even with basic immortality Fox can't just fix it so he just does his job. He's not going to be controlled or whatever. He'll see Palpatine with the usual report tomorrow.

From then on it's just Fox tiredly going about his day while Palpatine tries more and more creative different ways to try to kill him or make him obey him.

Palpatine completely blows off Anakin because he's so obsessed with Fox and Anakin gets all pissy over it and starts trying to kill Fox too.

Thorn and the rest of the Guard find it hilarious and encourage it even joining in sometimes.

Fox: *sitting in the middle of the flaming cafeteria sipping a cup of caff* This is fine.

[varpusvaras]

Chapter 4 is up!

[stealthetrees]

Palpatine dies and some Jedi are going through his stuff and find a cursed artifact. Commander Fox gets turned into a real fox cause he had to supervise or something. Decides to make it everyone else’s problem and sprints around screaming his head off. Queue Jedi going ‘oh no he can’t understand anything now’ and they have to explain themselves to Commander Thorn who then turns to Fox and tells him to stop being a bitch. Fox stops and glares at thorn. Some shines are called up to babysit Fox until the Jedi figure out how to turn him back.

[the-greatest-8]

Y'know what would be funny? If a Codywan fic made Obi-wan and Cody's relationship so fucking obvious even Anakin picked up on it, AND THAT'S NOT ALL.

It makes Anakin actually t a l k to Obi-wan about the Councils feelings in relationships, as truly, I fully believe the 'No attachments' rule is a bit more complex then that.

And this just, it just fucks Palps plans, because now Anakin is actually coming to his former Master about shit and learning. Maybe he doesn't end up killing to tuskens? (I dunno how you could justify/talk it away(you can't, it was murder of the highest caliber))

It's just- Anakin sees his Master, whom he thought was just a massive stick in the mud, being an absolute obvious idiot with his Commander- and it makes a few of his unused braincells start rubbing together again.

Obi-wan is glad his former padawan is reaching out to him again. Cody is happy Obi-wan is happy- now if only he could get Anakin to stop being a shithead. Anakin is confused, but getting there. And Palps is cursing his fucking face off as two dudes really liking each other's faces are fucking all his plans up.

Order 66 doesn't happen, because some magic bullshit I can't think up right now. Maybe Obi-wan kissed Cody so well it broke the chip in his brain and he had to go to medical where they learned about it(the chips).

I just, think it would be really fucking funny okay? Let me have this.

[kanerallels]

The fun thing about The Zillo Beast Strikes Back episode is that there are about eighty seven different ways it could be turned into a fix it au. For example:

Space PETA finds out about all of this and tries to get Palps thrown out of office, exposing him as a Sith Lord

Palpatine's pissed off constituents and co workers, after nearly dying for a science experiment, try and get him thrown out of office, exposing him as a Sith Lord

Palpatine's guard says screw this and leaves him to get eaten

R2 leaves Palps to get eaten

Ezra Bridger gets thrown back in time, sees a massive beastie trying to eat Palpatine, goes "oh he gets me" and becomes best friends with the Zillo Beast and also kills Palpatine, therefore becoming Mace's favorite member of his lineage

Padawan Cal Kestis heard about this and goes "ANIMAL RIGHTS" and Jaro Tapal decides to use this as a teachable moment about civil disobedience. Palpatine's death is just an ancillary benefit of Cal getting a cool new pet

C3PO sues Palpatine for emotional damages, and Palpatine gets so angry in court that he outs himself as a Sith Lord

Literally just. The Zillo Beast eats him. Is that so much to ask?

Feel free to add more and/or use any of these as fic ideas if they don't already exist!

[is-that-sand-in-my-waffles]

What was it like to be a Jedi during the Clone Wars?

The Dark is choking the galaxy and every day you feel the pinpricks of light (that used to be beacons) that are your brothers and sisters be snuffed out en masse and all around you life is extinguished and your men are so brave and so tired and you save as many as you can but the enemy keeps coming and you know that you can't block every single blaster shot and anyone could be the next to fall but all you can do is block this shot and the next one and save as many people as possible and keep choosing the Light every single minute of every day even though the Dark keeps getting stronger and pulling at you and you need to keep holding on and you are so, so tired and you've lost so many people and you've seen Masters grieve their Padawans and Padawans weeping over the bodies of their Masters and you know it should never have been this way but you couldn't leave the people of the Republic to be slaughtered in droves so was it really a choice?

So you pick up your saber and choose the Light and save a hundred more men and three hundred die and you wonder how the Order can possibly survive but you can hardly think about the future when the civilians need your help here and now-

And that final bolt slips by you and another pinprick of Light is gone from the galaxy.

[jetii]

Too Sweet

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader

Words: 6,140/26,525

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, description of blood/wound care, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, you can pry goofy Thorn out of my cold dead hands, smut in part 3? 4?

Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.

A/N: Trying something a little different with more, shorter parts for these longer fics. Also forgot to say thanks for 650 followers! hello!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“For the last time, I don’t need a medic.”

Fox is trying to be polite about it, but the tone of his voice is bordering on a growl. Every push on his shoulder is a jab to his pride, making him hiss like an angry tooka-cat. He knows he's being ridiculous, but that's never stopped him before.

His patience is already thin, but it had been stretched to the breaking point by a series of unfortunate events over the course of the day. The first, and arguably the most annoying, had occurred at the beginning of his shift.

Fox had woken up late, and his alarm clock had gone off with a loud, obnoxious tone that had caused him to shoot straight up in his bed, slamming a fist onto the off button. He scrambled out of bed and dressed faster than he thought possible, then hurried into the mess hall for the early shift breakfast. He was late enough that the food line was empty, and his choice was between a bowl of sludgy porridge or an unidentifiable ration bar.

The ration bar had tasted like stale durasteel, and the porridge was more of a thick slop, so Fox had opted for the latter. He scarfed it down with a mug of caf after an overdrawn fight with the machine, which tried to refuse him more than one portion of caf. He had left the mess hall with his stomach growling and his mouth bitter with the aftertaste of the caf, and his mood had soured even further when he found the lift under maintenance, forcing him to take the stairs.

When he arrived at the office, there was an enormous stack of datapads on his desk. A new security system had just been installed throughout the city, and the details were apparently too sensitive to be kept on the holonet. The only copies of the schematics were the ones on the physical datapads, and Fox had the wonderful task of checking every single one.

By the time lunch came around, Fox had managed to read through half the stack despite the constant interruptions. Someone would come in and ask about some obscure policy, or a trooper would report that someone had thrown a bottle at him, and the Chancellor would call for updates, and all the while, Fox had to be careful not to crush the datapads with his gauntlets.

The Chancellor was especially persistent today, calling him in person to demand a detailed analysis of the new security measures. Fox was forced to leave the datapads behind in order to give him an impromptu briefing, which ended with the Chancellor dismissing him with a wave of his hand and a curt, "I'm sure you have more important things to attend to."

Fox was seething when he returned to his office, and in a last minute attempt to escape his prison and an effort to calm himself, he decided to walk the patrol route himself instead of sending a trooper.

Of course, this had to be the day that every citizen on Coruscant decided to commit a crime, from a jaywalking elderly woman to a pair of pickpockets that had made off with a trooper's blaster. There was an argument outside a bar, an illegal speeder chase, and a man had decided to start a fire in the middle of the street, and all this had happened in the span of less than two hours.

Thorn had thought it was funny, but Fox hadn't found it nearly as entertaining. And now, he's been injured during the scuffle with the firestarter, and Thorn is making a big fuss about it.

Fox's shoulder throbs with pain as he moves, and he tries to ignore the way the skin is tightening around the wound. It's only a scratch, but it's deep, and Fox can feel blood oozing out of the cut and dripping down his armor. His head is pounding, and his chest aches from having been slammed against the duracrete by the man's boot.

A hand presses down on his shoulder, and Fox flinches away with another hiss. He turns on Thorn with a scowl

"I'm fine," he growls, shrugging Thorn's hand off his shoulder. "Leave it alone."

"Fox," Thorn says. He's trying to sound reasonable, but Fox can hear the exasperation in his voice. "It's a karking gash on your arm. I can't leave it alone."

Fox rolls his eyes. "I'm not letting you drag me back to the medbay for something as minor as this," he says. He turns and starts walking, heading towards the Senate building. "We've got more important things to do."

"I'm not dragging you to the medbay," Thorn says, running to catch up. He grabs Fox's arm and yanks him to a stop. "You're going to GMF. It's on the way to the Senate anyway."

"What? No!" Fox sputters, but Thorn is already pulling him down the street. He digs his heels into the ground, but Thorn is stronger than he is, and the other commander pulls him forward without breaking his stride.

"You're coming with me whether you like it or not," Thorn says, his voice firm. He doesn't loosen his grip, and Fox can only follow along helplessly. "The office will survive without you for a couple of hours."

"Thorn, you're not—"

"Yes, I am."

Fox scowls. Thorn isn't budging, and neither is he, and they've reached a stalemate. He's considering the merits of just sitting down and refusing to move, but before he can even make a decision, they're already at GMF.

"Let's go," Thorn says, pulling him up the steps. "Just stop trying to act tough and get over yourself."

Fox wants to protest, but Thorn has an iron grip on his arm, and he doesn't want to risk a public spectacle, so he allows himself to be pulled inside.

"Fine," he huffs. He can already feel a headache coming on, and his stomach is still grumbling in protest at its meager breakfast. Maybe he'll be able to sneak away before anyone notices, and no one will ever know that the Commander of the Guard was seen at GMF for such a minor injury.

"That's the spirit," Thorn says, grinning. He pulls on Fox's arm again, and this time, Fox lets himself be dragged away.

They've been sitting in the waiting room for a few minutes, and Fox is already starting to regret his decision. It's a busy day at GMF, and a steady stream of injured people are filing into the building, filling the waiting room with a cacophony of moans and groans.

Fox's shoulder is starting to throb again, and the wound is leaking blood into the fabric of his blacks. Thorn is tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair, his expression thoughtful.

"I wonder how many people are in here because of you," he says, looking around the room. There's a group of young men sitting on the opposite side of the room, nursing a variety of wounds. "They must be getting sick of seeing the Guard around here."

Fox glares at him, and Thorn chuckles.

"You'd think they'd learn their lesson and stop committing crimes," Fox mutters.

"We'd all like that," he laughs. "But we both know that won't happen."

Fox sighs, leaning back against the wall. He shifts slightly, trying to find a comfortable position. He's still annoyed about his arm, and now the smell of bacta is starting to get to him. It had always had a pungent, chemical smell to him, and the scent of the various medical supplies is making him queasy. 

He can feel his stomach starting to churn, and he closes his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. The bright fluorescent lights are only making things worse, and the sound of the door sliding open and closed as various people walked in and out of the medical wing is grating on his nerves.

It doesn't help that Thorn is sitting right next to him, staring him down like he's a suspect in an interrogation. He'd caught on to Fox's plan to slip away almost as soon as they'd stepped into the room, and Fox had been forced to endure his company as they waited for their turn.

"How long is this going to take?"

"They said they were pretty busy today," Thorn says. "I'm not sure, but you're probably going to be waiting for a while."

"Great."

"Don't be such a baby. It'll be over before you know it."

Fox groans and leans back in his chair. He can't help but think of all the work that he should be doing right now. The stack of datapads has probably gotten taller since they left the office, and he'll have even more work to do once he returns.

He hates the feeling of wasting time, especially when there's so much to be done, and at this rate, he'll be lucky if he manages to finish the rest of his work by nightfall. And that was if the Chancellor didn't call him again.

"You should go back," Fox says, looking up at Thorn. "I can handle this."

Thorn raises an eyebrow, giving him an incredulous look.

"And let you weasel your way out of getting that arm checked out?" he scoffs. "I don't think so."

Fox shoots him a glare, but Thorn only grins.

"Nice try, but no," he says. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Thorn—"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Fox sighs and slumps in his seat. He can see that Thorn isn't going to budge, and he doesn't have the energy to argue with him. His shoulder is really starting to hurt now, and the bleeding hasn't slowed down yet. He's getting dizzy, and the queasiness is growing stronger

He closes his eyes, resting his head against the wall. He feels terrible, and the longer he sits here, the worse he feels. The smell of the bacta is making his stomach turn, and the noise and chaos in the room is starting to get to him.

The medical center always brings back memories of the Kaminoans, and he was usually only ever here when one of his brothers was seriously injured. He doesn't have fond feelings towards the place.

"This is a waste of time," Fox mutters. "I could be working, or doing literally anything else right now."

"You know it's not a waste of time," Thorn says. He's looking around the room, keeping a close eye on the other people. "You're injured, and you need to get that taken care of. Stop being such a stubborn di'kut."

Fox is about to say something in response, his eyes land on a medical droid heading their way. He lets out a sigh of relief and gets to his feet. Finally, his suffering is about to end.

"Commander Fox?" the medical droid asks, stopping in front of him with a metallic whir.

"Yes, that's me."

"Please follow me. We're ready for you now."

"Finally," Fox mutters, ignoring Thorn's chuckle. 

He follows the droid down a long, white corridor, his footsteps echoing against the tile floor. He keeps his eyes forward, refusing to look back at Thorn. He doesn't want to see the smug look on his brother's face.

After a few minutes, the droid leads them into an examination room and motions for him to sit down on the cot. Fox complies, perching on the edge of the thin mattress and crossing his arms, trying not to fidget, and Thorn takes a seat in the chair in the corner of the room.

The droid is quick and efficient, running the scanner over his shoulder and chest and checking the readouts. It tells him that he'll need some stitches and bacta treatment, and Fox sigh, nodding his agreement.

"Thank you, Commander," the droid says. It stands still for a moment, processing its data, and then turns and exits the room.

"You're not getting out of this one," Thorn says as soon as the doors shut behind the droid.

"I know," Fox grumbles, slumping in his seat. He rests his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. "I just want to get this over with."

Thorn shakes his head, a smile playing across his lips. He doesn't say anything, but Fox knows he's just happy to have won. They're both competitive, and any victory, no matter how small, is something to celebrate.

"Stop that," Fox snaps. He doesn't want to deal with Thorn's smugness. He's already irritated, and the last thing he needs is for his brother to rub his victory in his face.

"Stop what?" Thorn asks, feigning innocence.

“That thing that you’re doing with your face.”

“It’s called smiling, Fox, you should try it sometime. I think you could use the practice,” Thorn teases, and Fox rolls his eyes.

Before he can come up with a retort, the door opens, and Fox reflexively straightens, preparing himself for the worst. The medical droids aren't exactly known for their gentle touches and bedside manner.

To his surprise, the person who enters the room isn't a medical droid. 

Fox feels his eyes widen as he takes in the decidedly human figure standing in the doorway, a datapad in hand. Wearing a crisp, clean set of medical whites, you stand tall, and his first thought is that you're beautiful.

His second thought is that you look far too cheerful for someone working in a medical facility. Your eyes are bright, and you're smiling, and the expression is so warm and genuine that it makes him wonder how you're managing to maintain it in a place like this.

It's a nice smile.

It isn't until Thorn clears his throat that Fox realizes he's been staring at you for the last few seconds, and he hastily looks away just as you glance up from the datapad.

"Hello," you say, your voice soft. "Commander Fox, is it?"

"Y-yes," he manages to reply, feeling his cheeks flush.

"And I'm Commander Thorn," Thorn chimes in, and he shoots him a smug look when Fox turns to glare at him.

"Well, hello," you say. Your voice is warm and melodic, and your eyes are sparkling. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"The pleasure's all mine," Thorn replies, flashing you a grin.

"Yeah," Fox mumbles. "Pleasure."

He's never felt so awkward in his life, and he's suddenly acutely aware of the blood on his armor, the way his hair is sticking up in all directions, and the fact that he hasn't slept in a couple days. You, on the other hand, look fresh and put together, and you're practically glowing.

You introduce yourself, and you give them a brief summary of your qualifications and experience. Fox doesn't pay much attention to what you're saying. He's too busy trying not to stare at you, and it isn't until he hears the word 'bacta' that he snaps back to reality.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

"Bacta," you repeat, tilting your head slightly. "It's a healing substance that stimulates the body's natural ability to regenerate tissue."

"I know what bacta is," he says, his tone coming out harsher than he intended.

You blink at him, clearly startled by his response, and Fox feels his face heating up.

"Right," you say, clearing your throat. You offer him a small, polite smile, and he looks away, embarrassed. "As I was saying, we'll need to administer a small dose of bacta to the area where the injury occurred. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Fine." Fox crosses his arms and tries not to scowl, and you turn away, tapping on your datapad again. Thorn kicks him in the shin, and Fox gives him a look. The other commander gestures with his eyes to you, and Fox frowns, shaking his head.

"Do you have any allergies or medical conditions?" you ask, looking up from the screen.

"No," Fox says, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. The mattress is far too thin, and the metal frame is digging into the back of his knees. "I already told the droid."

"Right," you say. "Just making sure."

Fox glances over at Thorn, who gives him an exasperated look, and Fox sighs. He knows that he's being difficult, but he can't seem to stop himself. His shoulder hurts, his head is throbbing, and his stomach is rumbling, and he just wants to get this over with so he can return to the office and finally finish the rest of his work.

He looks back at you and sees that you're staring at him. You're looking at him with concern, and your lips are pressed into a thin line. You're not smiling anymore, and Fox feels a twinge of guilt.

"You don't have to be nervous," you say. "This is going to be a quick procedure, and it won't hurt at all. We'll use a local anesthetic and numbing spray, and you won't feel a thing."

"I'm not nervous," Fox protests, his face flushing. "I just don't have time for this."

"I understand," you say, and your expression softens. "But this is important, and we need to make sure that you're taken care of."

Fox wants to argue, but there's a hint of steel in your tone, and the look in your eyes is firm. You're clearly not going to let him get out of this, and he sighs, resigning himself to his fate.

"Alright," he says, reluctantly.

"Great," you say, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

He feels a little better when you smile at him, and he tries not to smile back. You turn away, busying yourself with setting up the equipment, and Fox takes the opportunity to look at you again. You're standing with your back to him, and he can see the outline of your figure through your medical whites. You're not very tall, but you're not short either, and he wonders how old you are. You can't be older than twenty-five, he guesses, but it's hard to tell with natborns.

"How did you get that injury, anyway?" you ask, glancing over your shoulder.

"Work-related incident," Fox says. He doesn't want to tell you the truth. He doesn't want you to think he's a clumsy idiot, or that he can't do his job properly.

"Oh," you say, sounding a little surprised. You turn back to the equipment, and he can see the muscles in your back tense. "That sounds... dangerous."

"It's nothing," Fox says, his voice low. "I can handle it."

"Of course," you say softly. You turn around and walk over to the cot, your gaze focused on the equipment. "Okay, armor off, Commander. Let's see it."

Fox stiffens, his heart skipping a beat. "I—what?"

"The injury," you say, your brow furrowing slightly. You reach over and brush your fingers against his arm. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Fox says, a little too quickly. 

Thorn lets out a snort, and Fox glares at him. He just raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face, and Fox rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, it's been a long day," he says as he turns back to you. "Just a bit tired, is all."

"That's understandable," you say, your lips curving into a small, sympathetic smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been on my feet since 0600."

"I think you win," Fox says, his voice dry.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, and his heart skips a beat again. It's a nice sound, and he feels a strange surge of pride at having caused it.

He was truly terrible at making small talk, and most people found his dry sense of humor off-putting. The fact that you had laughed at his words, even if it had been a polite, professional laugh, was surprising. It was hard not to see it as a small victory in an otherwise terrible day.

You smile at him again, and he feels a sudden urge to smile back. You look like you're about to say something, but then your datapad beeps, and the moment is lost.

"I'll be right back," you say. "Just got to check something."

You step out of the room, and Fox lets out a breath, relieved that you're gone. He hadn't expected you to be so friendly, or to be so concerned about him. Most natborns just saw the troopers as an extension of their equipment, and they only spoke to him if there was a problem. You're different, though, and it's unnerving.

"You're blushing."

"What?" Fox sputters, turning to Thorn. "What are you talking about?"

"Your face is red," Thorn says with a wide grin.

"It's the lights," he says, pointing to the ceiling. "They're too bright."

"I didn't know we could blush," Thorn teases. "That's kinda cute."

"Shut up."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you're not at least a little bit interested."

Fox sighs and shakes his head. "Not now, Thorn. We're in a medical center, not a bar."

"Good thing, too." Thorn stands up and starts to help him unlatch his armor, a smirk on his face. "Cause if we were, you wouldn't have a chance. She's way out of your league."

"You're the worst," Fox says, and he swats Thorn's hands away and reaches up to unfasten his shoulder plates himself.

"She's pretty," Thorn continues, ignoring him. He pulls off Fox's pauldrons and sets them on the ground. "And she's not scared of you, either. That's a first."

"Yeah, well, she works in a medical facility," Fox mutters, slipping out of his cuirass. "They must have taught her how to deal with difficult patients."

"Maybe," Thorn says. He removes the rest of Fox's armor, placing it carefully on the ground, and then steps back. "But I don't think that's it. She's nice."

"She's paid to be nice."

"That's not fair, and you know it."

"I don't need you playing matchmaker," Fox grumbles.

"Fine," Thorn says, crossing his arms. "But if you don't ask for her frequency, I will."

Fox's eyes widen. "Don't you dare—"

The doors slide open again, and you step inside, your expression bright. "Sorry about that."

Your gaze is focused on the gloves you're pulling over your hands as you walk in, but as soon as you look up, your smile vanishes, and you freeze. Your eyes are fixed on his arm, and Fox quickly glances down, noticing the large dark patch of blood seeping through his undershirt.

"Oh, Commander!" you exclaim, hurrying towards him.

"It's not that bad," he says. He hadn't realized how bad it was until now, and his heart is pounding in his chest. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Your tone is stern, and he finds himself shrinking back a little under your intense gaze. "Now sit still."

Fox does as he's told, watching as you pull a stool over and set up a tray. Your movements are swift and practiced, and you don't seem at all bothered by the amount of blood. You're frowning, but your eyes are calm, and Fox finds himself relaxing a little.

"Let's get this over with," you mutter.

You're not smiling anymore, and it unsettles him. He'd thought that he had imagined the steel in your voice earlier, but now he can hear it clearly, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"Yes, sir," he says, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's doctor, actually."

Fox winces.

"My mistake," he mutters, his voice apologetic. "Force of habit."

You look at him, and he thinks he sees the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but before he can be sure, your face is composed and neutral again.

"Would you prefer I cut the sleeve off, or would you rather take it off yourself?"

"I'll do it."

You nod, and he lifts his arms, peeling the soaked fabric away from his skin. His stomach clenches at the sight of the deep, bloody gash, and the stench of copper is heavy in the air. He can feel the blood beginning to trickle down his arm, and the sight of his pale, slick flesh is almost enough to make him vomit.

"Are you okay?" you ask, placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

"Yeah," Fox manages. He's feeling a little woozy, but he tries to push it down. "I'll be fine."

You give him a sympathetic look, and he looks away, his gaze fixed on the wall.

"Okay," you say. You grab a vial and a syringe and inject it into his arm. "This should help numb the pain. Try not to move."

Fox nods, and you lean closer, gently cleaning the wound. The smell of the disinfectant is strong, and he forces himself to focus on your face instead. Your expression is calm, and you're humming softly as you work, and he finds himself relaxing a little more.

"How did this happen, anyway?"

"Like I said, it's work-related."

"So it was a knife, then?"

Fox glances at the gash, and he nods. He can't tell if the cut is deep enough to require stitches or not, and he's a little worried that the knife might have hit an artery.

"You're going to have a nice scar."

"Good. It'll match the others," he mutters, his tone flat.

You pause for a moment, looking at him. Your expression is unreadable, but there's a sadness in your eyes that he doesn't understand. You resume cleaning the wound, and he tries not to think about it.

"Do you always go out in the field?" you ask.

"Sometimes."

"And do you usually get injured like this?"

"It's not uncommon."

"Hmm." You're quiet for a few moments, and then you glance up at him, your eyes filled with concern. "You're very brave."

Fox is stunned. No one has ever said anything like that to him before, and it catches him off guard. He doesn't know how to respond, and he just sits there, staring at you. You don't seem to mind, and you return your attention to his wound.

"This is a lot deeper than I thought," you murmur. "It'll need a few stitches."

"Okay," he says, his voice soft.

"Try to relax," you say, gently touching his arm.

He nods, and you begin to sew up the wound. He tries not to think about the fact that the needle is digging into his flesh, and instead focuses on the feeling of your gloved hands on his skin. They're gentle and warm, and the scent of the disinfectant is beginning to fade, replaced by the faintest trace of flowers.

He can't remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. His brothers are rarely so careful, and most people who touch him are doing so with the intention of causing him harm. It's a pleasant change, and he finds himself enjoying it more than he expected.

"Sorry," you say, glancing up at him. "Almost done."

"Take your time," Fox replies. "I'm in no rush."

That's patently untrue, but the lie slips from his lips easily, and he's rewarded by a smile. He can see Thorn giving him a pointed look, and he knows that his brother will never let him live it down. But right now, he doesn't care.

The smell of flowers grows stronger, and he realizes that it's coming from you. The scent is subtle, but pleasant, and he's surprised by how much he likes it. He wonders what the source is. Is it your hair? Your skin? Or maybe it's something you wear, like perfume. He can't quite tell, and the mystery is starting to bother him.

You finish suturing his wound, and you dab some bacta gel over the stitches, sealing them. The sensation is cool and soothing, and Fox lets out a soft sigh of relief.

"How does that feel?" you ask.

"Better."

"Good," you say, your expression softening. You reach out and squeeze his uninjured shoulder, and Fox's eyes widen slightly at the unexpected gesture. "You should be all set, Commander."

"Thanks," he says, and the word sounds awkward in his ears. He's never thanked anyone for treating his wounds before. Usually, it was a medic droid, or another trooper, and his thanks were never required. But somehow, the words seem necessary now.

"Of course," you say, a hint of surprise in your voice. You remove your gloves, tossing them in the bin, and turn to clean up your equipment. "Do you have any other injuries, Commander? Any other...work-related incidents?"

"No, nothing else."

"Good." You stand up and stretch, and Fox takes the opportunity to admire the shape of your body. He can't help himself, and he quickly looks away, a flush rising on his cheeks.

"Thank you," Thorn chimes in, and Fox nearly jumps out of his skin. He had almost forgotten that the other commander was there, and his brother is looking at him with a knowing smile.

"You're welcome," you say, smiling at Thorn. You turn to Fox and offer him a smile, too, and he tries to smile back. It probably looks more like a grimace, and he quickly drops it.

"Now, remember, if that gets infected, or the stitches come loose before they dissolve, I want you to come right back, okay? No excuses."

"Got it," Fox replies.

"I mean it, Commander," you say, and you give him a stern look. "Don't make me hunt you down."

Fox blinks, his heart skipping a beat. You're serious, and he finds himself nodding, agreeing without thinking.

"Yes, sir," he says, and then mentally curses himself. "Doctor."

You chuckle, and the sound makes his chest tighten. It's the nicest sound he's heard all day, and he can't help but smile. You give him a playful salute, and he returns it, and you laugh again.

"Well, I hope we don't see each other anytime soon," you say, grinning.

"Me, too," Fox mutters, before he stiffens. "I mea—"

"I know what you mean," you say, your eyes sparkling. You hold out a hand, and he hesitates for a moment before taking it. Your skin is warm, and his breath catches in his throat when you gently squeeze his hand. "Take care, Commander."

"You, too," he says, and your smile widens. 

You pick up your datapad and step around the cot, moving towards the door. As you pass him, Fox catches another hint of the flowery scent, and his eyes widen. Lavender. It's lavender.

"Have a good day, gentlemen," you say. You flash him one last smile, and then you're gone.

He lets out a long, slow breath, trying to process what just happened. He feels... strange. There's an odd warmth in his chest, and he's still not quite sure what it is. He doesn't think it's anything bad, but it's new, and he doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe it's the blood loss. Or the painkillers. Or maybe it's the bacta. Yeah, it's probably the bacta.

Thorn slaps him on the back, and he lets out a startled noise, nearly falling off the cot.

"I don't know what the hell that was," Thorn says, chuckling. "But it was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen."

"Shut up."

"Seriously," he continues. "She's definitely way out of your league. I might even say she's way out of mine."

"I'm leaving," Fox grumbles. He grabs his armor and starts putting it on, trying not to wince as the plates rub against the bandages. "Get out of my way."

"Sure, sure," Thorn says, stepping aside. He gives Fox a sidelong glance, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Just make sure you give her your frequency."

Fox stops, his helmet half-on. He stares at Thorn, his mouth agape, and then turns away, pulling his bucket on over his head. He's not about to give Thorn the satisfaction of an answer. Not when his brother is clearly enjoying his discomfort so much.

He stalks out of the room, his boots echoing against the tile floor. Thorn follows, laughing, and Fox can feel his cheeks burning. He keeps his head down, his shoulders hunched, and he's determined not to speak another word. 

As they walk through the lobby, he notices you standing at the desk, speaking to the receptionist. You're not smiling anymore, but Fox can still see the ghost of it on your lips, and he feels the strange warmth growing inside him.

Thorn elbows him, and Fox lets out a hiss, glaring at him through his visor. He's already starting to regret allowing Thorn to drag him here. This whole experience had been far more traumatic than the injury itself, and he would have been better off ignoring it. But as he looks back at you, his gaze lingering on your form, he finds that he doesn't really regret it. At least not entirely.

The receptionist hands you a datapad, and you nod, thanking her. You turn and look at him, and he quickly ducks his head, pretending to adjust his pauldron.

"Commander!" you call out. "Wait a moment."

Fox stops, and Thorn snorts. He turns and sees you approaching, a small smile on your lips.

"Forget something?" he asks, and he winces internally at how gruff his voice sounds.

"Yes, actually," you say, stopping in front of him.

"Okay," he says slowly. He doesn't really understand why you're talking to him again, but he's not complaining. "What is it?"

"Your frequency."

Fox freezes, his eyes widening. He can't believe what he's hearing, and for a moment, he's convinced that he's misheard. It doesn't seem possible. Not with how the day has gone so far.

He glances over at Thorn, who's practically vibrating with excitement, and he quickly turns back to you, his heart racing.

"Uh..."

"I'll have the receptionist check in on you every few days, just to make sure everything is healing up okay," you continue. You hold out your datapad, and he takes it automatically. "But if there's any complications, or you notice anything unusual, don't hesitate to contact me, okay?"

The breath leaves his lungs, and he's grateful for the bucket over his head. Right. Of course. You're his doctor. This is completely professional. The disappointment that floods his veins is surprising, and he mentally scolds himself. What had he been expecting, anyway?

“That won’t be necessary," he says, handing the datapad back. "But thank you."

You frown. "Commander..."

"It's fine." He turns and gestures for Thorn to follow. "Come on, we've got work to do."

He can hear Thorn muttering behind him, and he knows that his brother is probably annoyed, but he doesn't care. The warmth inside him has vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable numbness. He doesn't know what he was hoping for, and he's glad that the conversation is over. It's better this way.

You call out after him, but he ignores you, and within moments, he's out of the building and back on the street. Thorn is right behind him, and they start the long trek back to the office.

"I can't believe you just did that," Thorn mutters.

"Did what?" Fox asks. He doesn't look at him, keeping his eyes fixed forward. He can feel his face heating up, and he's suddenly feeling very tired.

"You're an idiot," Thorn says, shaking his head.

"Shut up."

They walk in silence for a few minutes, and Fox tries not to think about the conversation. It doesn't matter, and it's better to just forget it.

He's been doing this job long enough to know that it’s dangerous to get attached to people, especially when they were civilians. Things never worked out, and the risk of getting hurt was too great. He'd seen too many of his brothers get their hearts broken by the citizens they were trying to protect, and he wasn't about to let that happen to him. It wasn't worth it. And you weren't special, anyway. You were just another natborn.

He repeats these thoughts to himself over and over, and eventually, he starts to believe them. The warmth inside him disappears, and the numbness returns. He's relieved. He's finally starting to get his head on straight, and the sooner he forgets about you, the better.

And yet, when they reach the Senate building, Fox hesitates. His eyes wander towards the medical center towering over the cityscape, and he feels a twinge in his chest. He tries to ignore it, and he continues walking, heading towards the office. But the ache doesn't go away, and the image of your smile lingers in his mind, taunting him.

He doesn't know why it bothers him so much. He'd only just met you, and it was nothing but a brief conversation. There was no reason to be upset. But somehow, it feels like something was taken from him. And he can't figure out what it was.

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