The More the Merrier

Ruin the Friendship - Completed in two parts. Fives x Reader, friends to...

Part I

Part II

SERIES:

Twin Flames - Echo x Reader (Evermore and Folklore) *ON HIATUS*

Chapter 1: My Tears Ricochet

Chapter 2: Hoax

Chapter 3: This Is Me Trying

Chapter 4: Long Story Short

Chapter 5: Gold Rush

Chapter 6: The 1

Reputations - Fives x Reader

You're taken. You're smitten. You're screwed.

Chapter 1: Gorgeous

Chapter 2: Delicate

Chapter 3: I Did Something Bad

Chapter 4: Dress

Chapter 5: Don't Blame Me

Chapter 6: Call It What You Want

Chapter 7: Look What You Made Me Do

Chapter 8: So It Goes...

Chapter 9: New Year's Day

Chapter 10: King of My Heart

Chapter 11: ... Ready for it?

Chapter 12: This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Chapter 13: Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Chapter 14: End Game and Getaway Car

In My Mind - Captain Rex x f!JediOC "Keira"

Smut, Romance, Lore.

A series based off of my 'Guilty as Sin?" One shot. Pining, Romance, Smut. Attachment can be the downfall of a Jedi, but is it really so wrong to be in love? Captain Rex and the new 501st general struggle with rights and sweet, sweet wrongs. Featuring chapters based on Taylor Swift songs.

Chapter One: Anti-Hero

Chapter Two: Midnight Rain

Chapter Three: Delicate

Chapter Four: Snow on the Beach

Chapter Five: My Tears Ricochet

--- MINISERIES/ONESHOTS:

The Tortured Padawan Department: A series of oneshots based off of Taylor Swift's TTPD anthology.

Guilty as Sin?

Fresh Out the Slammer

You Are In Love - A Rex X Reader Fluff Moment

That's So True - Fives X Reader (He's an Idiot)

Handprints in Wet Cement - Echo x Reader Fluff

Thank you for checking out my stories! I appreciate you.

You let it ground you, then laugh silently.

It’s ridiculous, really.

You can stand in front of thousands every day. You command a room, deliver speech after speech without a flicker of doubt. Other senators, dignitaries, entire crowds hanging on your every word. That part is easy.

But this? A date? With Echo?

You’re helpless.

A quiet laugh slips from you as you push away from the window and begin pacing slowly around the room. It’s not even the first time. Not by a long shot. You’ve been seeing him like this for what… seven months now? Always quietly, always carefully.

Seven months of hidden meetings. Of late-night walks through crowded streets where no one paid attention. Of brushing hands beneath tables, of avoiding cameras and journalists and prying eyes.

Even with all that, every time you’re together feels like the first.

A grin creeps onto your face before you can stop it. You let yourself reminisce, the feeling washing over you like a wave. 

—

Your arms are full of stacks of papers, all data reports and schedules. You know it could all be on a single datapad, but you need the tactile evidence of your work, the ability to spread everything out. You’re wrapped up in thinking about the next meeting. 

You take the corner too fast and tumble headfirst into someone. 

Into him. 

You collide with a hard plastoid chest, knocking you to the ground, papers scattering.

“Woah there. Are you okay?” He says, the vocoder of his helmet emphasizing his concern.

You pick yourself off the floor, laughing at yourself. “Sorry. So wrapped up in my own mind I wasn’t watching where I was going. What about you, are you okay?”

The trooper is decorated in blue and not the red you’re used to here in the Senate sector. He reaches up, arms flexing beneath his armor and takes off his helmet. 

You gasp lightly at his eyes, so expressive. And that smile, soft as if somehow holy, sacred. He exudes an air of calm and a strong, grounding presence.

“Let me help you with that.” He says, bending down and helping you gather the papers all about the floor. “Haven’t seen paper like this in so long…” He says, looking up at your face. You blush under his intense gaze. 

“So what senator do you work for?”

You freeze. You look up at him. He looks back at you, inquisitive.

 He doesn’t know. Doesn’t know who you are.

“Uh… Bespin. The Senator for Bespin.” You say back, clearing your throat as if to dislodge the lie. You smile at the rush of excitement the anonymity gives you. 

Soldiers don’t have time for tabloids, you think. Otherwise he would know. You aren't just a senator: Your very public recent breakup with a fellow senator is all over the holonet. And mentions of the breakups before that. You have a label. 

Reckless in love…

Some say worse things.

 But here’s this trooper, this man, helping you pick up papers from the floor, as if you were just a senatorial aid. Something about it, so mundane, feels good. 

You both stand and he hands you the papers, a winning smile on his face. Your hands brush, skin to glove, and you nearly shiver, butterflies erupting in your stomach. Why do you feel like this?

“Here you are. Sorry for knocking into you.” He says, going to put his helmet back on. 

“Wait!” You say, then freeze. 

He pauses and looks at you. “Yes, ma’am?” 

Again another flutter in your stomach. He called you… ma’am. So polite. So formal, and yet he doesn’t know who you are.

“Do you… ah… want to get caf? With me? As a thank you for helping me.” You say, stuttering.

What are you even doing?

His eyes widen and he smiles slightly. “I… I’m on duty, ma’am.” 

You deflate just a little. “Oh. Ofcourse. Sorry.” You say and turn to go, cheeks burning. 

“But, I’m off in an hour.” He calls after you. You turn back to him, biting your lip through a smile. 

“See you in the lobby then?” You say, flushed. 

He nods. “See you then.”

—

You kick your feet where you sit curled on the chaise in your quarters, grinning like an idiot at the memory.

Of course at caf you’d played it cool. Asked about his deployment. His squad. Pretended the pounding in your chest wasn’t happening every time he laughed.

But then caf became dinner, and dinner became a second date.

Then, after a month, it happened.

—

You were walking with him through the lower market levels when a constituent approached you, breathless with excitement.

“Senator! I just wanted to say congratulations on the relief bill passing!”

You felt him pause beside you.

There it was. The moment you’d been dreading. Reality, sinking in.

You gave your practiced smile, thanked the woman politely, and shook her hand. When she left, you braced yourself. For everything, for the inevitable change.

For the way people usually started looking at you like an opportunity instead of a person.

You glanced sideways at him. He was just… watching you.

“So,” he said after a moment, shoving his hands casually into his pockets. “Senator, huh?”

You winced slightly. “Are you… upset?”

“Why would I be?”

“You asked what senator I worked for.”

“And you technically answered,” he said with a crooked grin. “Just left out that it was you.”

You searched his face for negative emotion. 

There was nothing. If anything there was… admiration? But really there was him.

Just him.

“Doesn’t that… bother you?” you asked quietly.

He shrugged. “You’re the same person I’ve been getting to know. Now I just get to know a new side of you.”

Your stomach fluttered again, just like it had the first time he called you ma’am.

“You’re still the same person who almost dropped three hundred papers on my boots,” he added lightly. “Being a senator doesn’t change that.”

You sigh, trying to loosen the knots weaving themselves into your sternum.

“Well. I’m not just a senator. I’m kind of, well… I’m in the news quite a lot.”

“Really?” Echo says, and the two of you resume walking. “For what, bills passing? Speeches?”

You wince.

“Actually… I was dating a senator. It didn’t end well.” Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag. “My love life has been a little… chaotic. Nothing crazy. It’s just the headlines love a tragic tale, and my past love life fits the bill.”

Echo glances at you, brow slightly raised.

“What kind of chaotic?”

You huff a small laugh.

“The kind where every breakup becomes a political analysis piece,” you say. “Apparently my relationships say something profound about my legislative priorities.”

That pulls a quiet laugh from him.

“I dated Senator Taugh for almost a year,” you continue. “We were photographed everywhere together. The press loved it. Called us the ‘power couple of the Mid Rim.’”

You make little quotation marks with your fingers.

“And then,” you sigh, “he started seeing someone else. Quietly. For months. Without telling me.”

Echo’s jaw tightens just slightly.

“When it finally came out, the story wasn’t ‘Senator cheats,’” you say, shaking your head. “It was ‘Romance implodes, and she’s on to the next.”

You glance sideways at him.

“For the record, I didn’t date for months.”

Echo snorts softly at that.

“That’s ridiculous that they put that on you.”

“Welcome to politics.”

For a moment the only sound between you is the echo of your footsteps against polished stone.

Then you add, quieter now, “So… yeah. If anyone ever sees me with someone, it becomes a story. Speculation. Analysis. Commentaries on the holonet.”

Your shoulders lift in a small, helpless shrug.

“So if anyone sees us talking,” you say lightly, “they’ll probably assume we’re secretly engaged or in the middle of a scandal.”

Echo stops walking. You take one more step before realizing and turning back to him. He’s watching you with that thoughtful, steady gaze again.

For a second you worry you’ve scared him off.

But then he shrugs one shoulder.

“Well,” he says simply, “that doesn’t really bother me.”

You blink. “It doesn’t?”

He shakes his head.

“I spent my whole life being told what I’m supposed to be,” he says. “Soldier. Property of the Republic.” His voice isn’t bitter, just matter-of-fact.

“Clones aren’t supposed to have attachments, its too much of a distraction to date,” he continues. “The Kaminoans didn’t design us for that.”

He pauses, glancing down the quiet alley before looking back at you.

“So if being with you means it has to be quiet…” he says with a small shrug, “…then it’s quiet.”

Something soft settles in your chest.

You tilt your head. “You’re okay with that?”

Echo smiles then, “I’ve spent my whole life doing things the Republic didn’t expect,” he says.

Then he starts walking again.

“So yeah,” he says over his shoulder, voice lighter now. “I think I can handle keeping one secret. Especially one I like this much.”

Your heart fluttered. You laughed, unable to stop yourself, and that was the moment you realized why being with him felt so different.

Everyone else saw the headline first.

Reckless in love, scandals. Even failed bills on the senate floor.

But him?

He just saw you. 

—

There’s a knock at your door.

You jump up, heart pounding. You shake out your hands, trying to stop the flood of nerves rushing through you. You adjust your dress pulling the hem as low as you can. You take a breath and open the door.

And there he is.

He’s in civilian clothes. A dark shirt, dark shorts, an interesting fabric that shimmers slightly. His hair, still short from regulation cuts, is slightly tousled, and his eyes light up the moment he sees you.

“Ready?” you ask.

He nods, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. You leave your quarters, locking the door behind you and switching off the lights. Out in the hallway, you slip your hand into his. His palm is rough and warm against yours, calloused from years of armor plates and blasters. The contrast makes your stomach flutter.

You know you’ll have to drop his hand once you reach the street.

You always do.

If anyone sees where the two of you are going, this little romantic hideaway, if someone recognizes you and snaps a picture…That’s it.

Everyone will know you aren’t just in another relationship.

You’re in one with a soldier.

A clone.

And that’s sure to make headlines.

You make it out of the Senate District without incident, but the moment you step onto the busy promenade Echo gently lets your hand slip from his.

You don’t look at him when it happens.

The two of you call a speeder and ride across the city, the glowing towers of Coruscant streaking past the windows. You doubt he’s ever even been to this section of the city.

This is the luxury quarter.

The speeder drops you off outside a towering building, its glass edges disappearing into the sky. Soft lights glow along the structure like stars caught in metal.

Echo pauses beside you, glancing up.

“You’ve been here before?” He asks, eyes scanning the gilded building as it scrapes the sky.

“Once or twice,” you reply.

Inside, the air is cool and perfumed, the marble floors gleaming beneath your feet. You step up to the front desk and offer a polite smile.

“Two for a reservation,” you say. “Number 2319.”

The Twi’lek attendant glances down at the terminal, then raises his eyebrows slightly.

“The rooftop spa suite,” he says, impressed. “Wonderful choice.”

Echo shoots you a quick look. You cast him a sly smile. You’d told him what to wear, but not the extent to which you’d be pampering him tonight. All of your dates with him up until this have been quiet, reserved. Restaurants off the main strip, small caf shops, anything that wouldn’t draw attention, wouldn’t be the place a senator would take a lover. This, though? This is unlike anything Echo has ever done before, and you’re so grateful to be the one to give it to him. 

The attendant gestures for you to follow and leads the two of you to a private elevator. He presses several buttons and then taps in a security code, the panel chiming softly as the doors slide shut.

The lift begins its smooth ascent toward the top of the tower.

You grab his hand as the doors open and step out into a sweep of open air and sky.

The rooftop stretches wide around you, the city falling away on all sides as if the building itself has risen high enough to brush the clouds. Evening is just beginning to settle in, the horizon painted in layers of molten gold, peach, and deepening violet. The last light of the sun spills across everything it touches, turning glass and water into mirrors of fire.

The first thing that catches your eye is the pool.

It spills toward the edge of the rooftop in a seamless sheet of glassy water, an infinity pool so perfectly placed it looks as though the surface melts directly into the sky. The far lip vanishes against the horizon, leaving the illusion that the water simply pours out into the sunset. Soft steam rises from its surface, catching the fading light and drifting lazily into the warm evening air.

The rooftop is built for comfort, designed for relaxation. Plush chairs settle around the pool, and circle a stone fire pit, flames already licking the sky, with white blankets draped on the edges of each loveseat. Near the firepit is a table of deep, rich mahogany, covered with white linen and plated elegantly.

A small brass bell sits at the edge of the table. One ring and dinner will appear. Until then, the space belongs entirely to you.

There are no crowds. No music drifting up from the streets below. No voices but your own.

Just the slow ripple of water over the infinity edge, the crackle of the fire, and the endless sky glowing as the sun sinks lower and lower, setting the entire rooftop ablaze in gold.

Echo’s hand tightens around yours, and a low, awed breath escapes him. “Wow,” he murmurs. Your chest flutters, a grin splitting your face almost involuntarily. This, the luxury, the view, the quiet grandeur meant for no one but him, this is everything you’d imagined. Everything you’d wanted him to have, to feel.

You lead him by the hand toward the lounge chairs arranged neatly beside the pool, their cushions soft and inviting. The sky above is a painter’s dream: deepening blues bleeding into gentle pinks, streaks of lavender curling over gold. The sunset mirrors the one on your home planet, tugging at a thread of nostalgia you didn’t expect. Echo leans back into one of the pool chairs, and you settle into the chair next to him. Echo leans back, arms folded behind his head, eyes scanning the prismatic sky as if memorizing every brushstroke.

You pause, just for a moment, watching him. The initial shock of the opulence has faded from his expression, but there’s still a subtle tension. He had made it clear from the beginning that your fame, your wealth, your world of luxury wasn’t what drew him. He wanted you. Just you. 

Your hands drift almost instinctively to your thighs. The thought of his touch sends a ripple of anticipation through you. Your fingers gather the hem of your dress, brushing the soft fabric between your palms. Echo’s head turns, his gaze landing on you, steady and observant.

You stand in front of him. Slowly, deliberately, you lift the dress. The fabric slides over your skin, past your thighs, tracing the curve of your hips, rising over your stomach. The night air kisses your exposed skin, cool and thrilling against the heat of your pulse. The shiver it sends up your spine is delicious, prickling every nerve. Finally, the dress slips off entirely. You stand there in your swimsuit, a deep, iridescent purple that seems to drink in the dying light of the sunset and release it across your skin.

Echo exhales a breath that seems to come from the very center of him. He rises, his hands finding your bare waist, fingers warm. You lean into his touch, letting your hands wander to the buttons of his shirt.

His gaze meets yours, steady and reverent, and for a heartbeat, it feels like he’s silently questioning whether this moment is real.

Your fingers work carefully, unbuttoning him one by one. Each parting of fabric reveals familiar planes of muscle and skin. The reflections from the pool dance along his chest, rippling.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks.

Echo watches you. He watches you as though you are the only thing in existence, every detail etched into his mind.

Your fingers linger at the last button.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he murmurs, low and contemplative. 

You slide the shirt from his shoulders. The fabric whispers against his skin before falling loosely into your hands.

“I know,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I wanted to.”

You reach up, brushing your fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, grounding him in this moment.

“Echo,” you say softly, “I don’t do this to impress you.”

The fire pit crackles nearby, orange light flickering across his face, illuminating the subtle curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes.

“I do it,” you continue, voice low, “Because you deserve to feel like this, have all of this. You deserve something beautiful.”

Something shifts in him then, a subtle tilt of understanding, deeper than surprise.

His hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, drawing you closer until there is no space left between you.

“You already give me that,” he murmurs, sincerity threading through every syllable. Your chest tightens. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to your own eyes. Your breath mingles as you draw ever closer. Your lips brush, tenative at first, then softly, gently. He kisses you deeply then, one hand in your hair, the other at your waist. When the kiss breaks, you swear the sun roars a final burst of color before setting at last.

Above, the first stars glitter, scattered across the darkening sky. Your gaze flickers toward the pool. Echo follows your eyes, his expression softening further, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“You planning on swimming,” he teases, a playful lilt returning to his tone, “or were you just trying to distract me?”

You laugh softly, the sound lighter than you expected.

“Maybe both,” you admit.

Without another word, he extends his hand toward you, eyes sparkling.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s see if the water’s as wonderful as the view.”

Your fingers curl around his, warm and sure, and together you step toward the pool. The firelight dances behind you, the stars stretch endlessly above, and all at once the world feels entirely, impossibly, yours.

One step into the pool and you sigh. The water is perfectly heated, a soft warmth that slips over your skin and settles into your muscles. You let yourself gently collapse into its embrace, letting the liquid hold you, floating for a heartbeat.

Echo steps in behind you, careful at first. Then his arms slide around your middle, holding you close, grounding you. You lean your head back into the nape of his neck, feeling the steady heat of his skin against yours, and exhale deeply, letting the tension of months drain away.

“You know,” you murmur, voice muffled slightly against his shoulder, “you’re… really good at what you do. I mean, your whole life has served one purpose, and it isn’t one you chose.”

He shifts slightly, letting the water buoy him so he can look down at you. “Yeah,” he admits quietly, tone almost shy. “I’ve… gotten used to it. That’s all.”

You hum softly, fingers tracing lazy circles over his forearms. “Used to it doesn’t mean you don’t need a break. You’re always the one holding everyone together, keeping people alive… your brothers. And I think… you deserve something like this. Actually, all of you do.”

His lips twitch in a faint, grateful smile, the sort that doesn’t quite reach his eyes yet, weighed down by years of responsibility. “We… we don’t usually get to stop. Not like this.”

You tilt your head back, studying the way the last light of sunset flickers on his skin, the water catching reflections like liquid fire. “Well,” you say, a little mischievously, “I know how to fix that.”

He frowns, curious. “How’s that?”

“I know tonight is about us, but what if we make a plan to bring your brothers here sometime. We can grill, have drinks. I’d love to officially meet them, and besides, they deserve a night off too.”

He releases a breath in surprise. “Yeah… yeah, I think you’re right.”

The corners of his mouth turn up a little more, and there’s a softness in his eyes you rarely see, the kind reserved for moments when the armor drops, when the soldier is just a man again.

You tilt your head, brushing your lips against the curve of his jaw. “So, tonight… let yourself rest. You’ve earned it, Echo. And maybe… maybe next time we can make it a regular thing. Your brothers, too. I’ll handle it.”

His arms tighten around you, warm and steady, the rhythm of his heartbeat matching yours. “I… I’d like that,” he murmurs.

For a long moment, the two of you float there, letting the water and warmth hold you, the fire’s glow flickering across the terrace, the stars climbing higher overhead, and the city far below fading into nothing. The warmth of the evening still lingers in your skin, but the chill of the night air has crept in, urging the two of you out of the pool. Echo’s hand brushes against yours as you step onto the terrace, droplets of water glimmering on your skin in the firelight. 

You look down and see in the cement two perfect outlines in water, his hand and yours. How you wish it was in unsettled cement, so that the two of you and this moment, this night, could be set in memory forever. 

You dry off carefully, the towels soft against your skin, and slip into fresh clothes.

By the time you return to the table, the terrace has transformed into something almost magical. The bell you ring at the dining table sends a quiet summons into the night, and almost instantly a waiter appears with a cart. He lays out the domed dishes one by one, uncovering them with care. A bottle of champagne glints under the soft lights as the waiter pours it into two crystal flutes, leaving the table perfectly arranged before disappearing into the shadows.

Echo pulls out your chair and helps you to sit, ever the gentleman.

“This is… unlike anything I’ve ever seen, ever had,” he says, voice low, awed. “And I haven’t even tried it yet.”

You laugh, warmth spilling into your chest. “This is a traditional dinner from Bespin. I had the chef here recreate it. I wanted to share it with you. If you don’t like it, I can have them make you anything else.”

“I’ll love it. I trust you.” He sits opposite of you, taking his drink in his hand.

You lift your flute, and he mirrors you, glasses meeting with a delicate clink. The champagne glimmers in the candlelight as you sip.

After a moment of quiet enjoyment, you set your glass down. “Echo… can I ask you something?”

His gaze flicks to yours, curious, attentive. “Anything.”

You take a slow breath, letting the flickering firelight calm your nerves. “I… Would you want to be, seen with me? Publicly. I mean would you want to be… official?”

He tilts his head slightly, the golden light catching the curve of his jaw. “I think about that. Every day.” he admits softly. “I think about us. What we are. What we could be. I actually even asked my captain what he thought about having an official attachment… ” His hand hovers near yours, uncertain. “It’s not easy. For us. For… clones with everything else in our lives. We have rules.”

You reach across the table, letting your fingers brush his. “I know,” you say, voice gentle. “I don’t want to make your life anymore complicated. I just… I just want you to be… with me. Out there, in the world. I want everyone to know how amazing you are. I want you by my side.” You pause, sadness creeping in. “But I suppose that’s not meant for us.”

His hand closes over yours, warm and grounding.  “I think… I know I’m ready for that. I would give anything to be with you in the open. But… I’m happy just having you in the quiet moments for as long as I can.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling a flutter of sadness. “Maybe… maybe we can tell a few people? Just the ones we trust, those most important in our lives. Then it won’t feel so… isolating. So secret.”

Echo’s smile is slow but sure. “I can do that,” he says. “For you. I’ve always wanted to. But with your permission, I can tell my squad. They’re safe, they can keep it between them.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, letting the words sink in.

“Then,” you say softly, “we do it. We share us. With more than just us.”

Echo leans across the table, his forehead brushing yours in a gentle, grounding touch. “More than just us.”

You laugh softly, heart swelling, as the fire flickers, stars blaze overhead, and the city hums far below, invisible, irrelevant. This relationship will soon exist beyond the careful walls and borders that protect you both, even if only to a few. The thought excites you. Scares you. But more than anything, it makes this feel more real. 

Dinner slips by little by little, the conversation easy and unhurried. As the night cools, you ring the bell once more. Almost immediately, a waiter appears, clearing the table with quiet precision. You top off both your glasses with the leftover champagne, the bubbles sparkling in the firelight as you take a slow sip.

You guide Echo to the firepit just beyond the pool. The loveseat is plush, enveloping, positioned perfectly so the warmth of the fire washes over you as the night breeze brushes past. You sink into it first, letting the cushions cradle you, and Echo follows, curling in beside you.

The embers leap from the pit, tiny sparks drifting up into the sky, mingling with the stars. The glow washes over Echo’s face, softening the lines of fatigue, highlighting the strength in his jaw, the warmth in his eyes. You lean slightly into him, letting your shoulder rest against his, feeling the steady beat of his chest beneath your hand.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You watch the sparks curl and drift upward, the quiet crackle of the fire filling the space between your thoughts. There’s a stillness here that feels almost sacred, removed from everything else: the war, the responsibilities, the expectations. 

Finally, Echo shifts slightly, turning so his arm can wrap around your shoulders. His hand rests lightly on your arm, thumb brushing in slow, reassuring circles. You look up at him, catching the faintest shadow of hesitation in his gaze, the same one you’ve seen before whenever he allows himself to be truly vulnerable.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” He says, voice low.

Your heart tightens, a flutter of nerves mingling with anticipation.

He swallows, gaze dropping to your hands, then back to your eyes, steady and unwavering. “I love you,” he says finally. “I’ve… I’ve loved you for a long time, and I just… I needed you to know.”

The warmth of the fire seems to wrap around you like a blanket as those words sink in. Your breath catches. “I… I love you too,” you whisper, barely above the crackle of the flames.

He draws you closer, the two of you melting into each other, limbs entwining naturally, the firelight flickering over the curve of his jaw, the line of his shoulders. The two of you stay there for a long time, speaking in quiet confessions, laughter spilling out between soft kisses, hands brushing over one another as the fire crackles and pops. Each spark that rises into the night sky feels like a promise. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair. No more words are needed. Tonight, the world has slipped away, leaving only this. Only the two of you, and the warmth of everything you’ve finally said out loud.

The galaxy might be a terrifying place, and one not kind to a love like yours. But tonight? Tonight is yours. And that is enough.

-----

Inspiration Lyrics:

Flamingo pink Sunrise Boulevard Clink, clink Being this young is art Aquamarine Moonlit swimming pool What if all I need is you?

Love to think you'll never forget Handprints in wet cement Adorned with smoke on my clothes Lovelorn and nobody knows Love thorns all over this rose I'll pay the price, you won't

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

In the tangerine, neon light This is luxury You're not saying you're in love with me But you're going to

----

“Kriff!” Fives exclaims as he tosses his card on the table. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Cheers erupt around the table as you claim all the credits in the middle, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

Fives leans forward, hands palm down on the table. “What number am I thinking of? You have three seconds.”

You lean forward, until you are face to face with him across the table. You’re so close you can smell the wintergreen of his breath. You blink your eyes at him and cock an eyebrow.

“Three.” He says. He swallows, hard. 

“Two.” You notice his eyes dart to your lips, so close to his. 

“One.” He whispers. 

“5.” You say, smirking.

 His face goes slack and the table bursts into laughter, Jesse knocking over a drink in the process. You slide back into your seat beside Echo who throws an arm around your shoulder, choking on his laughter. 

You love this. The camaraderie. You have such little time with your boys between missions, that nights like these, at 79’s, are only ever topped by nights at your small apartment. You secretly hoped this night would end back there, the boys having a sleepover right on your floor how they so often did. 

Echo’s leg brushes yours and he pipes up, eyes levelled at his brother.  

“You couldn’t think of a better number than five?” 

Fives snorts and rolls his eyes. “It’s literally in the name, what other number could I have picked? Let’s go again, best two out of three.” 

Hardcase nudges him with an elbow. “You know why she can read you so well?”

Fives turns to him and gives him a look. “Why, ‘Case?” 

Hardcase tears up the paper napkin in front of him, very dramatically, and then tosses the pieces in the air like confetti, sprinkling the table. 

“You’re in loooooooove!”

Laughter passes around the booth with groans intermixed. Fives eyes flash to you, panic on his face for just a split second. 

Your stomach tightens, twisting, turning. You swallow. 

Then he tilts his head back and howls in laughter. Laughing so hard tears stream down his face. 

Your face heats. You laugh under your breath, trying to crack a smile. 

“In love? With her?” He breathes, wiping tears from his eyes. 

Your breath catches.

Echo places a strong hand on your knees and clears his throat. “Hey, now. It’s not that far-fetched. I mean, look at her.” 

You know he means well, but the eyes of Torrent company are now all on you, and after that slight, you feel microscopic. 

Fives jolts in his seat, suddenly seeming to notice your discomfort. 

“I just mean that… you’re… you know. Our girl.”

You nod as the boys all mutter agreements and avoid the slight hurt in your gaze that you try so hard to mask. 

“Excuse me.” You say, leaving the table and heading out into the dark night. 

So much for a sleepover. 

Kriffing Fives. 

As you lean yourself up against the durasteel wall outside 79’s you do your best to keep from crying. Had it been anyone else…

Jesse, you’d have laughed along. 

Echo, you’d have kissed his cheek jokingly. 

Hardcase you’d have thrown something at him. 

But Fives?

The hurt in your chest twists like a knife.

He knew.

You knew that deep down he knew how you felt about him. They all did. They had to. 

You and Fives were closer than any of the others. You spent the most time together. Caf runs, holo marathons. You’d been there each time he had to be patched up, every time he needed someone to talk to. And he’d been your rock through so many hard things. 

Then there was the moments. Hands touching, warmth spreading. Sparks.

Every time the boys were gone you dreamed of them, of their faces. All melding into one in the way clones’  do. 

But it always had a tattoo at the temple. 

You were best friends. But he just had to know that it was more for you.

But then he went and said that? Laughed at you like that?

“He’s an idiot, now I’m sure.” You hear beside you. Echo. He leans against the wall with you and hands you a drink. You huff out something that almost sounds like a laugh. 

“You’re biased.”

“Yeah,” he says easily. “But I’m also right.”

The music from inside 79’s thumps through the walls. You stare out into the neon-lit street.

“I don’t care,” you say quietly.

Echo finally glances at you. “But you do.”

You freeze, then nod. He nudges your shoulder with his.

“He laughed because he panicked.” Echo says, lips an inch away from his glass.

You scoff. “That wasn’t panic. That was… hysteria.”

“Exactly.”

You blink.

Echo continues, voice softer now. “You ever see him when Rex catches us sneaking ration sweets onto the gunship? Same laugh. He does it when he’s scared.”

You swallow.

“That wasn’t scared, Echo. That was embarrassed.”

Echo shakes his head. “No. That was ‘oh kriff everyone can see straight through me and now I don’t know what to do with my hands’.”

You stare down at your drink.

“…you think?”

“I know.”

The hope hurts almost as much as the rejection. Before you can respond to Echo the door to 79’s slams open.

“Move, move out of the way!” Hardcase bursts out first, nearly tripping over the threshold.

“Hardcase, I swear to the Force!” Fives chases after him, flushed and wild eyed. He spots you and stops dead. Hardcase points dramatically at you like he’s delivering a bounty.

“There. Talk. I’m not dying for you two idiots’ unresolved feelings.”

“Hardcase…”

“Nope. I’ve done my duty to the Republic.”

He vanishes back inside. Echo pushes off the wall. “I’m gonna… get another drink,” he says, clearly not needing one. He squeezes your shoulder as he passes. Silent support.

Then you’re alone with him.

Fives shoves his hands in his pockets, takes them out. Crosses his arms, uncrosses them. He looks like he’d rather face a Separatist tank.

“…Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your voice is flat. Controlled. It hurts more than yelling would. He winces.

“About inside…”

“You don’t have to…”

“I do.”

The words come out sharp. You look up. His jaw’s tight.

“I kriffed that up.”

You say nothing. He exhales hard through his nose.

“I wasn’t laughing at you.” He sighs

“It kinda sounded like it.” you retort, the hurt lacing your voice.

“I was laughing at me.” He says quietly.

You frown and he rubs the back of his neck.

“When Hardcase said that… I just…” He huffs. “I didn’t know what to say. Everyone was staring. And if I didn’t laugh I probably would’ve..” He stops himself.

“…would’ve what?”

His eyes flick to yours, then your lips, then away.

“…said something stupid.”

Your heart stutters. “You did say something stupid,” you whisper.

He flinches like you slapped him. “…yeah,” he admits.

There’s a moment of quiet, and the whole city seems to fall to a hush. The universe narrows to just you. Has he always been standing so close to you? You hate this feeling. Things used to be so much easier, before you realized how you felt for him. 

You use a fist to punch him in the shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. “Walk me home?” You ask. 

He nods and you head into the Coruscant night together. The walk is quiet, but close. He drops you off with a gentle goodbye and you do your best to smile at him as you close the door. 

* * * * * * 

Days pass and things are… fine. Just fine. All the other boys seem to have forgotten the awkwardness of that night, and you are overcompensating in how you act. You pretend nothing happened. That Fives is nothing to you but a friend. You’re bubbly and open and yourself. 

But then Fives pulls you to the side one day. Your heart flutters at the touch of his hand on yours as he guides you away from the group. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says, voice soft, serious. You nod, mouth dry. 

“Can you read this message? I don’t know whether to send it or not.”

You look down at his comm and your heart drops. 

It's a text asking for… a date. Asking someone out. The number at the top of the screen isn’t familiar.

Your eyes widen. You struggle with words. “Yeah. That sounds good.” You say. 

Fives is quiet for a second, staring at you. Then he says, “Thanks… I just didn't know if it was good to send or not.”

You smile at him, forced. 

“Yeah, wouldn’t wanna sound like an idiot again would you?”

He blinks, confused.

“…yeah,” he says slowly.

But you’re already stepping away before your face betrays you. “I’ve got work to do,” you add and you don’t wait for an answer. You don’t look back. If you look back, you might stay. If you stay, you might cry, and you absolutely refuse to cry in front of him.

The rest of the day is a blur. Just you doing anything that keeps your hands busy. Anything that keeps you from thinking about him and that stupid text. 

And her.

Kriff.

You wonder what her laugh sounds like. If she’s pretty. If she’s softer than you. Maybe she’s normal. Maybe that’s what he wants.

Not the girl they call our girl.

Later, the boys pile into the hangar loud as ever, Hardcase arguing with Jesse. Kix yelling about someone skipping med checks. Fives saunters in and suddenly you’re absorbed in your datapad. You don’t look up.

“She said yes!” He says, and you can hear the grin in his voice. 

“Great.” you say flatly. There’s an awkward moment.

Fives is never awkward with you. Well he never used to be. Now it seems more and more often that awkwardness lands between you like a grenade. It makes your chest ache. “So, uh… yeah. We’re going out tonight.”

You keep typing and you focus on the numbers. Because numbers don’t hurt.

Numbers don’t fall in love with other girls.

“That’s great, Fives.” You say and finally look up. His brown eyes are big, bigger than usual. Staring into yours. There’s something there, something unsaid.  Before you can muster the courage to say something you’ll regret, Echo walks up. 

“Are we still meeting at 79’s tomorrow night? I need to wash my civvies if so.” It’s like he could feel the tension across the room and came over to break it. You blink, grateful for the interruption.

“Yeah,” you say quickly, latching onto the normalcy like a lifeline. “Same time. Don’t be late or I’m not saving you a booth.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Echo replies. He studies you for half a second too long. Echo notices everything. The tightness in your jaw. The way you’re not looking at Fives. The way Fives isn’t looking at anything except you.

Fives shifts his weight beside your desk.

“So…,” he says again, softer this time. Like he’s waiting for you to say something.

You don’t.

You just nod once. “Have fun.”

The words taste like rust. He hesitates.

“Yeah. I will.” And he walks away.

You don’t let yourself watch him go. You don’t. You absolutely don’t.

…You do. 

Just for a second. Long enough to see him laughing with Jesse, shoving Hardcase’s shoulder, easy and bright. Like he’s not about to take someone else out tonight. Like he doesn’t carry your favorite caf order in his head. Like he doesn’t knock on your door when nightmares get bad.

You look back down at the datapad so fast the screen blurs.

Numbers. 

Just focus on the numbers, you tell yourself.

But only one comes to mind. 

* * * * *

79’s is tense. Nothing about the familiar walls, the lights, the music can tame the thudding in your chest. You haven’t seen Fives since he told you he had secured a date with that mystery girl. But he’s going to be here, tonight, and you just know he’s going to talk all about it with his brothers. 

With you, too. 

You steel your heart. Focus on Echo, your other best friend. He’ll be stoic, your rock. He knows how you feel, how this will make you feel. He’ll protect you from the worst of it. 

You’re dressed up. You wanted to feel alive, special, like someone that someone would want. You’d resolved that if someone wanted to pick you up tonight, you might actually let them. Normally the brothers chase off anyone who comes near to you, but you’ll brush them off tonight. 

You just want to feel wanted. 

The boys filter in as you finish your first drink. Echo first, sliding into the large booth beside you, a few others after him. 

Then, it’s like the air is pulled from the room when you spot him by the door. In a brown leather jacket, black shirt beneath, dark jeans. Hair neatly laid back, but somehow tousled. It’s like you can smell the whiskey and wintergreen from here. 

 Then you see her. 

His hand is on her lower back, guiding her in. She’s… beautiful. Everything you’re insecure about, everything you lack, she has. She beams in the dim light of the bar. 

You can’t breathe. 

He walks her up to your booth and the two of them slide in. He introduces her and the boys all smile and play nice. You smile kindly at her, pretending you aren’t falling apart at the seams. Echo places a hand on your leg and squeezes, letting you know he’s there. It’s grounding.

You study her as the boys playfully interrogate her. She’s calm, collected. Dazzling smile, charming responses. 

She’s cool. The definition of popular. 

You hate her so much. 

The boys love her, they’re eating out of the palm of her hand. Except Echo. He looks at her skeptically.

“So how’d you two meet?” He asks. 

They look at each other grinning. “Few days ago at another bar. He’s lucky he’s cute, he was so drunk when he asked for my number. Then we went out yesterday.” She says flippantly. 

“Where’d you go?” You ask, the question startling even you. 

“Some little cafe he likes. What was it again?”

Fives looks at you, guilt on every line of his face. “Courts Cafe.”

Your heart drops. Thats… thats your place. Yours and his. Thats where you first went when the friendship was starting, and the place you’ve gone every time you wanted caf or a moment alone since. He took her there?

You plaster a grin on your face, desperately trying to make your eyes light up, “Love that place.” You say. The girl places a hand on Fives arm. She laughs. Then she perks up. 

“Oh! My friends are here finally. Let me go grab them, I’ll pop to the fresher and be right back.” She says, and she squeezes Fives’ arm as she goes. You watch her leave, joining two other equally beautiful girls and heading to the fresher across the way. 

Hardcase doesn’t even wait until she’s out of earshot. The second the fresher door swings shut behind her and her friends, he leans back in the booth like he’s been physically holding it in.

“Well?” he blurts, too loud already. “You tap that yet?”

The table erupts.

Jesse chokes on his drink. Kix smacks Hardcase upside the head. Tup mutters, “Stars, have some tact,” but he’s laughing too.

Fives groans. “Shut up, you idiot.”

“What?” Hardcase shrugs, unapologetic. “It’s been, what… two whole days? That’s basically a lifetime for you.”

“That is not…” Fives rubs his temples. “That’s not how that works.”

“Oh please,” Jesse cuts in. “You brought her here. That’s serious territory.”

“Yeah,” Hardcase adds, waggling his brows. “You don’t bring just anyone to meet us. That’s practically a marriage proposal. Or at least a ‘boots under the bunk’ situation.”

“Hardcase,” Echo warns.

But it’s too late. They’re piling on now.

“So where’d you even disappear to last night?” Jesse asks. “Barracks were real quiet,” Kix says. “Too quiet,” Hardcase echoes dramatically. “Suspiciously quiet.”

Fives’ ears are red. Bright red.

“You’re all kriffing children.”

Hardcase leans across the table. “So that’s a yes…”

“No!”

The word comes out sharp enough that a couple heads turn. Silence hangs for half a second. Your throat is so tight you can’t swallow. 

“Excuse me.” You say and slide out of the booth, heading to the fresher. You need to run your hands under some cool water to stop them from shaking. 

“Way to go, vod.” Echo says as you leave. 

The door swings shut behind you with a dull hiss.

Instantly it’s quieter in here. Muffled bass from the bar. Running water. Fluorescent lights that buzz faintly overhead. You grip the edge of the sink and twist the handle, cold water rushes over your fingers.

They’re shaking.

You brace both hands under the stream, letting the chill bite into your skin, trying to ground yourself. Trying to breathe. You stare at your reflection. You look… wrecked. 

Pathetic.

“He’s so stupid. Like really.”

You freeze.

Water keeps running over your knuckles.

The voice comes from the corner near the floor-length mirror.

Her.

She’s standing with her two friends, lipstick out, reapplying like she’s in some holo drama. One of them is fixing her curls. The other is scrolling her datapad. They haven’t noticed you yet.

“Like dense,” she continues, laughing under her breath. “Can’t hold a conversation to save his life.”

Your stomach drops.

“I think all those clones are probably that way.”

Her friend snorts. “Seriously? They’re kinda just… grown soldiers, right? Like lab experiments.”

“Exactly,” she says. “It’s weird. He kept talking about his brothers. All of them together all the time? It’s codependent as hell.”

Your jaw tightens.

Brothers.

She says it like it’s something dirty, like it’s something to mock.

“I swear,” she goes on, popping her gum, “I had to carry the whole date. I’d ask him something and he’d just stare at me for a second like his brain had to reboot.”

They laugh.

“And the café?” her friend asks. “Was it cute at least?”

She rolls her eyes. “It was fine. Total hole-in-the-wall. He acted like it was some big sentimental thing.” She makes a gagging noise. “Men are so dramatic.”

Your chest aches.

Courts.

The little table by the window. The first time Fives bought you caf because you’d skipped lunch. The way he’d pretended not to watch you smile. The way he’d tapped his fingers when he was nervous. Sentimental because it mattered.

Because you mattered.

“And stars,” she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “he’s not even that hot up close.”

Your head snaps up.

Her friend shrugs. “So why’re you here with him?”

She laughs. “Free drinks. His friends are cute.Isn’t that weird? They’re all the same, but different. Anyways,  figured I’d see if any of them are upgrades.”

Upgrades.

Something inside you twists hard and ugly.

“And if not,” she adds, checking her reflection, “I’ll ditch him. It’s not like he’s gonna get it anyway. Sweet, but dumb.”

Your hands are trembling so hard the water splashes onto the counter. You shut it off too fast. The pipes squeal. They finally notice you. Three sets of eyes flick your way. They look you up and down.

“Oh,” she says lightly, like you’re an inconvenience. “Didn’t see you there.” You swallow. Your throat burns.Your hands shake.

Not from nerves anymore, from rage. Rage sharp enough it feels like it’s cutting through your ribs. She’s still smirking at you like this is funny. Like he’s some dumb story to tell her friends later.

“Shut up.” You say.

Hey eyebrows raise. “You his little guard dog or something?” she says, popping her gum.

You don’t even think.

“No,” you say, voice low and steady. “I’m someone who doesn’t let people talk about good men like they’re trash.” Her friends exchange a look. She just laughs.

“Good men?” she repeats. “Honey, he’s a clone. He’s government property.”

Something inside you snaps.

“He’s a person,” you bite out.

She rolls her eyes. “Relax. It’s not that deep.”

“He treated you like you mattered,” you say. “He brought you to meet his brothers. He took you somewhere important to him. And you come in here and call him stupid?”

She shrugs. “Because he is.”

Your vision tunnels.

“He can barely string two sentences together without looking confused. All those clones are the same. Bred to shoot things, not think.”

Your hands ball into fists.

“You don’t know anything about them.”

“I know enough,” she scoffs. “He stared at me like a kicked tooka every time I teased him. It was kinda sad. I almost felt bad.”

Teased.

You picture her laughing at him across that café table. Picture him rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed, trying anyway. Your chest aches.

“He deserves better than you,” you say quietly.

Her smile drops a fraction.

“Excuse me?”

“He’s smarter than anyone in that bar. Kinder too. And you’re in here using him for free drinks and scouting his friends like they’re upgrades?”

Her friends go quiet.

She flushes. “Wow. You’re way too invested. That’s actually pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” You step closer. “You’re mocking someone who’d take a blaster bolt for people he met five minutes ago.”

She snorts. “Yeah, yeah. That’s all he’s worth. God, you clones groupies are all the same. Acting like they’re real men. Newsflash? They’re lab-grown. Replaceable.”

Replaceable.

You don’t even feel yourself move. Your hand just…swings.

CRACK.

The sound echoes off tile and mirror. Her head snaps to the side. Everyone freezes, even you. Your palm stings. Her lip splits a little. For half a second, there’s complete silence.

Then, “You crazy bitch!” she screams, lunging. She shoves you hard. You stumble back into the sink, metal biting into your hip. She grabs your shirt, nails catching fabric, and you grab hers back on instinct. Years of breaking up trooper scuffles kick in automatically.

She swings wild. Her fist glances off your shoulder. You shove her away and she slams into the paper towel dispenser, plastic cracking. Her friend yelps and runs out the door, hollering for help. She comes at you again, shrieking now, mascara already smudging.

“You don’t get to hit me!”

“You don’t get to talk about him like that!” you shout back.

She claws for your hair. You catch her wrist and twist like you’ve seen Rex do a hundred times. She gasps and tries to knee you. You both crash into the counter, knocking over soap and water everywhere. She finally lands one across your cheek. Your head snaps sideways.

Your ears ring and somehow that just makes you angrier.

“Say it again,” you snarl. “Call him stupid again. I dare you.”

She falters, because she can see it in your eyes, you mean it.

The door swings open.

“What the kriff is going…”

Fives.

And behind him, Echo and Kix.

They freeze at the scene.

Water everywhere. Paper towels torn apart. You and her gripping each other’s shirts like animals.

Fives moves first. You think he’s going to go for her, baby her, take care of her as she sits on her ass bleeding from the nose, the lip.

He grabs your waist and hauls you back effortlessly.

Kix pulls the girl the other way while she screeches about assault charges and psychos.

You’re still breathing hard. Chest heaving.

Fives’ arms are tight around you, solid and grounding and searing your skin.

“Hey,” he murmurs in your ear. “You’re okay. I got you.”

Your cheek throbs. Your knuckles ache.

Across the room, she points at you. “She attacked me!”

You laugh once. Sharp. Humorless. “Maybe don’t call war heroes brain-dead experiments next time.”

Her friends go quiet. Real quiet. Because suddenly it doesn’t sound funny anymore.

Fives squeezes your shoulders.

“You good?” he asks softly.

You nod but your eyes burn. He leads you out of the fresher and into the night as Kix stays behind to patch up the girl and talk her out of pressing charges. 

The bass from the bar thumps through the walls as the door swings shut behind you. Cold night air hits your face like a slap. Your heart is still racing. Cheek stinging.

Adrenaline hasn’t burned off yet and your whole body feels like a live wire.Fives doesn’t let go of you. His hand stays firm on your shoulders, guiding you down the narrow side alley beside 79’s, away from the door, away from prying eyes.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “Watch the step.”

You step down off the curb automatically. This feels so much like the other night, the one where he made fun of the idea of being with you. You, leaving the booth in such a rush, you standing out here in the silence, you and him here with the galaxy between you.

The alley’s dim. One flickering yellow light overhead. You’re shaking. He finally turns you to face him.

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine,” you say too fast.

“You’re not fine.”

His hands come up gentle, thumb brushing your cheek where she hit you.

You hiss an he goes still, jaw tightening.

“Stars,” he mutters. “She got you good.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not.”

His voice is soft but fierce. Protective in that way that makes your chest hurt. You can’t look at him, because if you do, you might cry.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly.

“You didn’t have to walk me out,” you mumble. “You should… go back in. Your date’s probably…”

“She’s not my date.”

The words are immediate. You finally look up. He looks distraught. Guilt written all over his face. He runs a hand through his hair, pacing once, boots scraping concrete.

“Kriff,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m an idiot.”

You let out a weak laugh. 

“No, I mean it. I’m a full-on, regulation-issue moron.” He rubs his face. “I didn’t even like her.”

You blink.

“… what?”

“I met her at a bar. She laughed at my jokes. That was it.” He shakes his head. "I never liked her."

“Then why bring her here?” you ask, before you can stop yourself. The question slips out raw. Honest. It hangs between you.

He exhales slow and won’t meet your eyes.

“… Because of you.”

Your heart stutters. “What?”

He finally looks at you.. and he looks scared, like this is worse than any battlefield confession.

“I thought…” He swallows. “I thought maybe if you saw me with someone else, you’d… I dunno… react.”

You just stare.

“I thought maybe you’d get jealous,” he says softly. “Maybe you’d finally see me.”

The world tilts. You shake your head to clear it.

“I’m tired, mesh’la,” he says, voice rough. “Tired of pretending I’m cool just being your friend. Tired of watching you smile at everyone like they get the same version of you I do.”

You can’t breathe.

“I figured… maybe if you thought I was moving on, you’d stop me.”

He laughs once, bitter at himself. “Real smart plan, huh?”

“You brought her… to our place,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“That café…”

“I know,” he says again, sharper. “Stars, I know. The second I said it out loud tonight I wanted to punch myself.”

His hands flex at his sides.

“I was being petty. Stupid. I just… I didn’t know what else to do.”

You feel like your heart’s cracking open.

“All this time,” he says quietly, “I’m thinking maybe you don’t want me like that. Maybe I’m just your vod. So I tried to prove I didn’t care. I laughed you off the other night, when all I could think about was kissing you minutes earlier.”

He laughs weakly. Your eyes burn again.

“You’re such an idiot,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“You absolute, kriffing idiot.”

“I know.”

“You brought a girl you didn’t even like just to make me jealous?” You shove his shoulder.

“Do you have any idea how much that hurt?” You ask quietly.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I saw your face. Felt like I got shot.”

Your voice wobbles.

“She was in there calling you stupid. Saying you’re replaceable. Laughing at you.”

His brow furrows. “She…”

“You deserve someone who actually sees you,” you say.

His eyes lock on yours.

“I only ever wanted that to be you.” He says.

You gaze up into his eyes, and see stars there. You look down at his mouth. You lean forward. 

Stars. Sparks. Everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You kiss. Lips melding, hands reaching.

You wince as the split in your lip reopens, you laugh lightly as you pull back. 

“My girl.” He  says, hand brushing the blood from your lip, hand tangling in your hair. 

His girl. 

Always.

---

"I could go and read your mind Think about your dumb face all the time Living in your glass house, I'm outside, uh Looking into big blue eyes Did it just to hurt me and make me cry Smiling through it all, yeah, that's my life

You're an idiot, now I'm sure Now I'm positive I should go and warn her

I'll put up a fight, taking out my earrings Don't you know the vibe? Don't you know the feeling? You should spend the night, catch me on your ceiling That's your prize, that's your price, well"

Thanks for reading! Please check out my story "Ruin the Friendship" Linked here:

----

“It’s so cute!” Omega squeals, pressing her face against the glass of the terrarium, fogging up the glass. The tank is pretty bare, just piles of dirt and a small cave in the back left corner. But hiding in that cave, and poking out it’s little furry head, is a pucksey. It’s nose twitches as it peers up at Omega, chirping at her.

Suddenly the little thing burrows halfway into the dirt, then pops back out, its ears flicking as it shakes off dust. Omega nearly swoons.

“Can I hold it?” She asks, her voice bright with excitement. She’s looking up at Hunter, eyes pleading.

Hunter grunts, a sound that means ‘no” more than ‘yes.’ The merchant, however, either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care; he cheerfully scoops the creature into his hands and deposits it into Omega’s waiting arms.

Omega gasps, holding it close. “Oh! It’s purring!” she exclaims, holding the pucksey close. The little creature nuzzles her cheek, whiskers brushing her skin as its tiny claws knead her sleeve. “Hunter, please. You know a pet is on my wishlist!”

Hunter folds his arms, shaking his head. “Sorry, kid. The Marauder’s no place for a pet.”

Omega’s smile falters immediately. “I could keep it at Cid’s,” she insists quickly. “On Ord Mantell! I’m there half the time when your missions are too dangerous, anyway.”

Then her big brown eyes swivel toward you. “He’ll listen to you!” she pleads. “C’mon, please?”

You can’t help but laugh softly at her persistence, but you still shake your head. “Hunter’s right, sweetheart. Pucksies love to dig and there’s not exactly a lot of dirt on the Marauder. Besides, Cid would lose her mind if one tore up her place.”

Omega’s shoulders slump. She strokes the creature’s fur one last time before handing it back to the merchant. “Bye, little guy,” she murmurs, lower lip trembling. Then she spins on her heel and storms off into the crowd, boots kicking up little clouds of dust.

“Stay where I can see you!” Hunter calls after her.

“She’ll be okay,” you say, spotting the glint of Echo’s armor as he jogs after her. “Echo’s on her tail.”

Hunter exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It just isn’t practical,” he mutters. “We barely have space on the ship as it is.”

You nod, because he’s right. The Marauder feels smaller by the day. Hunter’s bunk doubles as storage for mission gear. Tech’s workspace is a constant explosion of tools and wires. Wrecker’s side of the ship is half weight rack, half toy pile. Your quarters, a repurposed supply closet, barely fit a cot and toolbox. And Omega’s alcove behind the galley, though cozy, is cramped.

You bump Hunter’s shoulder with your own. “Well it is on her wishlist,” you remind him softly. “Maybe a plush version would do the trick. No dirt. No mess. No complaints from Cid.”

That earns a faint smirk from him. “She does love Wrecker’s tooka doll.”

You grin. “Then a pucksey plush it is. I’ll keep an eye out,” you add. “For her wishlist.”

Hunter’s mouth twitches, like he’s hiding a smile. “Appreciate it.”

“Did someone say wishlist?” Tech’s voice cuts in as he sidles up, datapad in hand, Wrecker lumbering along behind him.

“Tell me you found the new data chip that’s on mine,” Tech says, eyes wide with hopeful anticipation.

“Nah,” Hunter replies, scanning the crowd again for Omega and Echo. You can tell by the way his jaw tightens that he doesn’t like not having eyes on her.

“Did you ever write your wishlist?” Wrecker asks you, nudging your arm with a grin.

You shake your head, laughing. “Still thinking about it.”

He groans dramatically. “Come on! It’s not that hard. Everyone wants something!”

You roll your eyes. “All I want right now is to finish shopping and get back to the ship. That engine coil isn’t going to fix itself.”

As the lot of you head slowly back to the Marauder, keeping an eye out for Echo and Omega, you’re lost in thought.

 Wishlists had been Omega’s idea a few months ago. “Always good to have something to look forward to!” She’s said, greeting everyone as they returned to Ord Mantell from a long mission, with an even longer list. Everyone had made one. Tech’s is all spare parts and, well, tech. Wrecker wants a conglomerate of things, each thing more random than the last. Echo’s is mostly practical, comfort items. Hunter’s is also practical. But yours? Yours is blank. No matter how much you try, you can’t think of a single thing you want on your wishlist. 

Well, maybe there is one thing. A few things, maybe.

Lost in thought, you don’t see when a large man carrying stacked crates turns down the narrow aisle. He nearly runs headfirst into you, and you freeze seeing the collision about to happen.

Hunter’s hand shoots out instantly, firm and steady against your lower back as he guides you aside, keeping you upright. The man mutters something and stumbles away without so much as an apology.

“Watch where you’re goin’!” Wrecker calls after him.

“You okay?” Hunter asks, his hand still there.

“Yeah,” you breathe, dusting yourself off. When he finally lets go, the absence of his touch leaves an almost physical chill in its place.

Hunter’s gaze lingers on you a moment too long, a flicker of a smirk tugging at his mouth. He knows. Of course he does. His heightened senses means he can literally hear the fluttering in your chest.

You try to mask it, looking away, but your blush betrays you.

It’s not cute, you tell yourself. This crush on Hunter. It’s dangerous. You don’t feel this way about the others. Not about Tech’s sharp wit or Echo’s quiet steadiness or Wrecker’s easy warmth. But something about Hunter gets under your skin. The way he moves, protective without being possessive. The way his voice softens when he speaks to Omega. The way he carries everyone’s weight like it’s his duty alone.

You don’t want to be misunderstood. You appreciate, no, you love them all, each in their own way.

You remember a night a few months back. Cid’s parlor, a bottle too many passed around. You’d told them, slurred but sincere, that you loved them. That they were the closest thing to family you’d ever had.

“Aw, we love you too!” Wrecker had said, squeezing you half to death. Tech had made some sarcastic but fond comment about “emotional inefficiency.” Echo had clapped your back, pulled you into a hug, and whispered, “Glad to have you.”

And Hunter… Hunter had smiled at you, eyes warm. “Always,” he’d said.

What you feel for Hunter is… different. It’s more of a want. 

A wish. 

All of you finally make your way back to the Marauder, arms packed with supplies.

Echo meets you at the ramp, arms crossed, a faint crease in his brow. “She won’t come out,” he says quietly. “Real torn up about that pucksey.”

You glance toward the galley, where the soft hum of Omega’s music leaks from behind her curtain. Hunter’s jaw tightens again, but his eyes soften.

“We’ll give her some space. You work on fixing the coil so we can get back to Ord Mantell. The further we’re from the problem the better.” He says. You nod and get to work. 

Time passes quickly when you’re in the zone, your mechanic’s brain always thinking two steps ahead. That’s why you’re here, after all. The Batch had picked you up on some backwater planet when they crashlanded. You’d agreed to fix the ship if they got you off planet. They agreed. You never left them.

Once the coil is fixed you send Tech a comm and have him get the ship up and flying while you hop in the fresher. 

There are only two freshers on the Marauder. The men, ever chivalrous, designated one of them as the “girls’ room” for you and Omega. It’s a small courtesy, but one that means a lot, offering at least a little privacy amid the chaos of life aboard the ship.

That chivalry seems distant in your mind now. You’ve scrubbed the dust and grease from your skin, the warm water rinsing away the grime of the market and the repair job. But no matter how long you stand there, you can’t wash away the lingering memory of Hunter’s hand on your lower back, the steady weight of it, the way it made your breath catch.

Just need a minute more to clear your head.

You shut off the water and reach for the hook, only to realize you’ve made one crucial mistake.

Your change of clothes is still sitting on your bunk.

You stare at the empty hook, towel dripping in your hands. There’s no way you’re putting your dirty clothes back on. You glance at the short corridor outside. It’s late, and the others are busy. Hunter and Echo working on the nav readouts, Tech in the cockpit, Wrecker probably asleep already.

It’s only a few meters to your quarters. What are the odds you’ll run into anyone?

You wrap yourself tightly in the towel and crack the fresher door open. The coast looks clear.

Two steps out…and you slam face-first into a wall.

Except it’s not a wall. It’s a chest. A very bare chest.

“Uh… hey,” Hunter says, blinking down at you. His face goes red almost immediately. He’s in half-kit, armor belt slung low on his hips, towel slung over one shoulder…clearly on his way to the fresher right beside yours.

You squeak, clutching your towel like your life depends on it. “Oh, kriff, sorry!” you blurt, and then you’re gone, practically diving into your quarters and slamming the door behind you.

Your heart’s pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to escape your ribs. You press your back to the door, trying to breathe, face burning hot enough to power a generator.

Smooth. Real smooth.

You force yourself to calm down. Inhale, exhale. Then start pulling on clean clothes with trembling hands. The embarrassment won’t fade, though. Every time you blink, you see the way his expression had gone from shock to red heat in half a heartbeat.

Then comes the knock. Three short taps. You’d know that rhythm anywhere.

You groan softly. 

When you open the door, Hunter stands there, still unshowered, clearly uncomfortable. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes.

“I, uh…” He clears his throat. “Didn’t see anything. You’re fine. Not, fine, I mean…you’re good.” He winces at his own words. “You’re all good.”

You press a hand over your burning face. “Was bound to happen sometime,” you mumble. “I just wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says quickly. His lips twitch in what might be a grin. “Accidents happen.”

You risk a glance up, and he smiles. It leaves your heart betraying you once again. He nods once, stepping back.

“Get some rest,” he says softly. Then he’s gone, leaving you standing in the doorway, pulse still racing.

You shut the door and collapse onto your bunk, burying your face in your hands.

The rest of the flight passes uneventfully, though your mind refuses to let it go, the memory looping in your head, equal parts horror and… something else.

You tell yourself it’s just embarrassment. But deep down, you almost wish he had seen something.

No, no, you can’t think like that! But your mind keep reeling, playing on the ‘what if’.

“What if” your towel had dropped, ‘what if’ he’d undone his belt, ‘what if’... 

You groan and bury your hot face into your pillow. 

—

Back on Ord Mantell, Omega’s mood still hasn’t lifted. She’s been quiet all morning, dragging her feet through Cid’s parlor and sighing dramatically every time Hunter walks by.

After the tenth sigh, Tech, who’s been working hard on his datapad is about to pipe up when you cut him off. 

“Omega, want to go to the market with me?”

She brightens instantly. “Can I look for a pet?” she asks, eyes wide.

You laugh. “Not a pet… but I promise to buy you something from your wishlist.” That sets her off.

Within minutes, she’s darting ahead through the crowded streets, bouncing from stall to stall. Every few steps she calls your name, pointing out something new.

“Stay close!” you call after her, weaving between vendors. 

Then it happens fast, Omega turns a corner, doesn’t see the crate in her path, and goes down hard.

“Omega!”

You sprint a few meters and skid to your knees beside her. She’s sitting in the dirt, blinking back tears, both knees scraped and raw. Her pants are torn through, dust coating her palms.

“Oh, stars…” You steady her shoulders. “You okay?”

Her lip trembles. “M’fine,” she insists, even as her eyes well.

“C’mon,” you murmur gently. “Let’s get back to Cid’s and get you cleaned up.”

She nods, biting her lip, and you take her small hand in yours. Together, you walk through the bustling market, her limp barely noticeable but your heart hammering the whole way.

The second you step through Cid’s doorway, Hunter’s already moving.

“I smelled blood,” he says, voice sharp as he crouches in front of Omega. “What happened?”

Omega squares her shoulders, chin lifting. “I fell. It’s okay. Just need to get cleaned up.”

You can tell she’s trying to sound tough, but Hunter’s frown doesn’t ease.

You hurry to the counter and grab the first aid kit, setting it beside her. “This’ll sting,” you warn softly, pouring a bit of peroxide over the scrapes. Omega hisses but doesn’t pull away. Hunter’s already taken her hand, letting her squeeze his fingers as you clean and bandage each knee with practiced care.

“All done,” you say, taping the last bit of gauze in place. “Now…” you pause with a teasing grin, “a kiss to make it better?”

Omega blinks at you. “What?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Forgot none of you had mothers growing up. They say if you kiss it, it makes it feel better. Want me to try?”

She tilts her head, curious. “Does it really work?”

You smile. “Only one way to find out.” You bend down and press a quick kiss to each bandaged knee. “There. Better?”

Omega’s grin spreads slow and warm. “Yeah, actually! How does that work?”

Right on cue, Tech strolls through the room, eyes glued to his datapad. “It’s a psychological phenomenon involving dopamine release,” he says absently, not even looking up.

Hunter chuckles under his breath. You meet his eyes, and something in his expression softens, a mix of gratitude and something quieter, deeper.

He reaches over and ruffles Omega’s hair. “Knew she’d have you fixed up in no time.”

Omega beams, proudly showing off her bandages like battle scars.

You lean back on your heels, heart easing for the first time all day. Hunter’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer than necessary before he stands and clears his throat.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

You nod, smiling up at him. “Always.”

You watch as Omega goes off to show Echo her new bandages and talk about the magic of the kiss. 

“We didn’t get to grab anything at the market. I saw a plush she might like, not a pucksey, but one she doesn’t have. I’ll go grab it.” You say, but Hunter stops you. 

“Actually… Wrecker caused a…scene in the ship during flying lessons while you were gone. Can you take a look at it? It’s on the underside of the hull. Ill send Wrecker to grab the plush. He needs a task he can’t kriff up for a few seconds, and if anyone knows plushes, its him anyway.”

You laugh and nod. “Let me grab my tools.” 

—

The ship's in worse shape than Hunter let on. There’s a foot-sized hole in the base hull near the landing gear, and the surrounding metal looks like it’s been chewed by a rancor.

“How in the hell…” you mutter under your breath, crouching beside it. You’ll need cutting tools to smooth the jagged edges, but maybe you can snap this bit loose first.

You brace one hand against the hull and pull down hard.

Pain sears through your palm, white-hot and sudden. You stumble backward, hitting the ground hard, clutching your hand.

The metal’s torn straight through your glove, slicing deep. Blood wells fast, running down your wrist.

“Stars…” you gasp, but before you can move, you hear boots pounding in the dirt.

Hunter skids to a stop beside you, dropping to one knee. “What happened?” His voice is sharp, worried. He grabs your hand before you can hide it, eyes widening at the blood.

“How did you…?” You start.

He doesn’t answer, just rips off his bandana and wraps it around your hand, pulling it tight. “I heard your heartbeat,” he says, voice low but steady. “Had me scared there for a second.”

You blink at him, caught between pain and confusion. “You heard my heart? From all the way inside the bar?”

He grimaces as the fabric starts to soak through and helps you to your feet. “I was already heading out,” he says, avoiding your eyes. “But… yeah. Yours is just…loud, to me.”

“Loud?” you echo, trying to keep up. “Like… I’m dying or something? Is something wrong with my heart?”

Hunter shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not that.” He steadies you as you step inside. “I just…hear it more than others. Now sit still.”

He grabs the first aid kit you’d used earlier and sets it beside you, unwrapping his bandana carefully. His brows knit tight as he cleans the wound, the set of his mouth somewhere between frustration and concern.

“Both my girls needing first aid in one day,” he sighs, half to himself.

Your heart skips, and you know he hears it, because his eyes flick up to yours for just a second.

He smiles faintly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s what I mean. Loud.”

Your throat goes dry, pulse quickening again. You want to blame the sting of the antiseptic, the adrenaline, the blood loss…anything but the way he’s looking at you right now.

“There.” he says. “All patched. Does it hurt?” You flex your fingers, palm up, and wince. 

“Yeah. But Ill be okay.” You go to pull your hand away but he gently grabs your wrist. 

You freeze. He looks at you, eyes deep amber. Without breaking eye contact, he pulls your palm up to meet his lips, kissing the bandage softly. 

Your heart goes wild. 

He laughs into your palm. ‘So loud.” he says. “But a kiss to make it better. Did it work?” 

You nod wordlessly and hop off the chair you’re on, swallowing hard. He drops your hand, knuckles still brushing yours. 

You keep your hand tucked close to your chest the rest of the evening, even after the throbbing eases. The memory of his lips against it keeps looping through your head.

By the time everyone’s crowded around the little table for dinner, the room hums with the familiar chaos of the Batch.

You settle in with your tray, choosing the far side of the table from Hunter, the two of you the heads of the seating arrangement. Surely he can’t hear your heart over the din of mealtime?

“We ship out in the morning.” Hunter says during a lull in the conversations. “Quick trip to Corellia. Dropping off some… merchandise for Cid. We’ll be gone for three days, okay Omega?”

She sighs. “Fine. I wanted to look for some wishlist things while you all were away anyway. I already saw one I want to get for Wrecker today!”

Wrecker cheers and everyone laughs. 

After dinner you and the men work to pack up the ship and get ready for the trip. 

You spend a few hours replating the hull where it sliced you earlier. This time Omega is there to oversee, just in case. 

Ship packed and ready, you and the rest of the crew say your goodbyes to Omega, knowing you'll leave too early for her to sleep on the ship this time. 

This mission isn’t dangerous, and normally Omega could come, but Hunter mentioned something about a side mission, something for the men. You don’t know, you just know that this trip should be quick, and maybe you’ll have enough down time to think about your wishlist. 

—

Corellia is beautiful. The contrast of deep emerald green of forests and the bright shining lights of large cities dazzles you. The Marauder is set down about a mile outside of the nearest city, in the thick of the forest. It’s an easy mission, but the cargo needs to lie low. 

You’ve just finished general maintenance when the boys come back, the sun just about to set on the first day. 

“And… finished!” Wrecker calls. You look at him confused. 

“Finished? I thought we were here for three days?” You ask. 

“Oh, we are.” Echo says, an unusual perkiness in his voice. 

“There comes a time, my friend, when all adults must… slate their thirsts. A free for all.” Tech says, eliciting a grimace from you, until he sets down the crate he’s carrying, full of Corellian wine. 

You blink at him. “A free for all?”

Wrecker grins, dragging a hefty log into place. “Yeah! You get to sit back, relax, and forget all the rules for a little while. Its just about fun. No missions, no cargo, no… adulting. Well. Only the good adulting.”

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes. “Adulting?”

Tech, balancing the crate of Corellian wine, sighs. “Yes, well… certain… adult responsibilities. Obligations of a physical, emotional, and…other kinds of exertion.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Other kinds of exertion?”

Wrecker chuckles, giving you a wink as he piles wood for the bonfire. “Yeah! You’ll see. Rules don’t apply. No orders, no limits… just letting loose.”

Echo, unusually chipper, crouches beside you. “We do this about once a year, haven’t since you’ve been with us. Or Omega. Back in our glory days, we’d pick a planet and just go wild. First night, we relax. Second day… fun. Third day… well, sleep it off.”

You swallow, cheeks warming at the meaning behind his words. “Fun, huh?”

Hunter smirks beside you, amber eyes catching yours in the firelight. “Starting to sound like Echo,” he murmurs, voice low, but that little edge of amusement makes your pulse jump.

You glance at him, forcing a small smile. “I’ll… try to keep up.”

“Don’t scare her too much. I’m sure she needs to let loose too anyway. Cooped up with all of us, surely there’s some frustration to get out.” Wrecker says, eyebrows waggling. 

You laugh. “So tonight is… relaxing?” You ask. 

“Well, and drinking. We just chat and catch up. Not alot of time for that on missions. This way we check in with each other. Just… while drunk.” Echo says, passing you a glass full of the rich red wine. 

“Oh.” You say. 

You settle down by the fire with your glass, sitting on the forest floor with your back to a large log. The boys start drinking, and Wrecker has finished a bottle before you’re done with your glass. 

You feel like an intruder for a bit, the boys all chatting, laughing and sharing stories. You’re on the outside of a tight knit circle, but the more you drink, the closer to the inner circle you get. Soon you’re laughing along with all of them, staring up at the embers turning into stars above you. 

Wrecker is the first to fall to sleep, him lumbering inside with an excuse of looking for more wine, with quiet snores echoing out into the night from the ship seconds later. 

Tech mentions something about plans for tomorrow and ‘data shopping’ and slips away. Echo and Hunter are the last two, besides you, around the fire. They chat for awhile, and you don’t realize you’ve drifted off leaning against the log until a warm hand on your shoulder wakes you. 

“Sorry.” Hunter says. “You should get to bed.” He says, offering to help you up. Suddenly, the sky above you yawns open in a flurry of colors. Greens and pinks and blues, an aurora. 

You’re in awe, and even Hunter looks up in wonder. He turns and settles down beside you, shoulder to shoulder, and gazes at the sky with you. 

“Never seen one of these before.” He says. 

You smile. “We had them on my planet. I missed them.” 

He smiles at you. You’re still so tipsy, the aurora seems to swirl around you. 

“I should have added it to my wishlist.” You say. “Seeing one again.”

Hunter hums. “What else should be on your wishlist?” 

You blush as you feel his arm snake around the back of the log, to rest against your shoulders as you look up at the sky together. 

“I used to think I didn’t want anything. I have all I need.”

“But?” Hunter asks. 

“Omega changed my mind.” 

“What do you mean?” He asks, turning to face you. 

You sigh, lazily.

“I want kids. I want to be a mom one day.” 

Hunter freezes. You don’t notice. 

You shudder against a cold breeze, the warmth of the wine still seeping through your veins, and glance at Hunter. “You’re so good with her,” you say softly, “You’d make a good dad.”

For a heartbeat, he freezes, amber eyes wide in surprise. Then, the faintest smile tugs at his lips, a mix of pride and something…else. His gaze lingers on you, unspoken gratitude and more flickering in the firelight.

“Is that… really what you think?” he asks quietly, voice low.

You nod, cheeks still flushed. “I mean it. She looks up to you. You make her feel safe. You’d… you’d be amazing.”

Hunter exhales, a low, satisfied hum escaping him. He leans just a fraction closer, his arm brushing against yours as it rests behind the log. “Hearing you say that… yeah. That means a lot,” he murmurs, amber eyes locking with yours. “A lot more than you might realize.”

You feel the warmth of him in more than just the firelight. His body sits so close to yours, arm around you, that you settle yourself ever closer to him.

The aurora swirls above you, brilliant greens and pinks painting the sky, but all you can focus on is the subtle curve of his smile, the quiet intensity in his gaze. You don’t realize what you’re doing when you lean forward, lips brushing his. 

He pulls away, eyes wide and shakes his head, laughing and brushing off the attempt at a kiss.

“Alright, mesh’la,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Time to get you to bed.”

You laugh, unable to be hurt by his gentle rejection for the alcohol in your veins. You attempt standing and nearly topple. 

“Maybe,” he says, sliding a steady arm around your waist. “I’ll help you there. Okay?”

Before you can argue, he helps you to your feet. Your balance is shaky, and he supports most of your weight as you step carefully toward the Marauder. The fire’s glow fades behind you, the forest alive with nighttime sounds.

“Careful,” he murmurs, guiding you over roots and uneven ground. “Almost missed a step there.”

“Almost?” you tease, though your voice is soft.

“Yep,” he says, amber eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t want you twisting an ankle on my watch.”

“Would you kiss it better again?” You say, slurring your words. His grip on your waist tightens but he doesn’t answer. 

Finally, he pauses outside your door. “Here we are,” he says. “Safe and sound.”

You glance up at him, cheeks warm, still buzzed from wine and lingering adrenaline. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“Always,” he replies softly, his thumb brushing your arm in a casual, intimate gesture. He waits until you step inside before letting go, a small, teasing smirk tugging at his lips.

You fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

—

You wake up alone on the ship, and find a note taped to the front door. 

“Free for all day. Go out and explore. Meet us at these coordinates tonight.”

You fold up the paper and place it in your pocket for later. Explore? The Marauder is tucked safely in the forest outside the city, and with the crew busy with their own “adulting,” you decide to take the afternoon for yourself. Stepping out into the streets of Corellia, the bustle of the city hits you immediately.

You stop at a stall selling trinkets: little animals carved of various materials. You pick up a little creature for Omega, knowing she will love having something from this mission to fawn over.

You drift toward a fountain in the center of the plaza, the water sparkling in the late afternoon sun. Leaning over the edge, you toss a coin and make a quiet wish. You don’t know what for.

As night blooms you make your way to the coordinates left for you. It’s a… bar. Your stomach turns. You can’t handle drinking anything more on this trip. You walk inside. 

The lights are low and the music thumping, bodies twisting on the floor in front of you. 

“There she is!” Wrecker yells, and waves you over. You head to a table where he and Hunter sit, Wrecker with a pint of beer and Hunter with just water. You recall that last night he didn’t drink at all either. You wonder if it has to do with his senses, if the effects of alcohol would be heightened too. 

You slide into the booth across from Wrecker and Hunter, grateful for the small pocket of quiet it offers. The bass from the music makes the table tremble beneath your arms, and the lights strobe in dizzy flashes of gold and violet. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, trying to settle the nerves fluttering in your chest.

“You made it!” Wrecker crows, lifting his pint in a sloppy salute. “Finally decided to join the grown-ups, huh?”

“I… don’t really do grown-up bars,” you admit, eyeing the crowd with mild suspicion.

Hunter chuckles beside you, his voice low and warm, almost drowned out by the beat. 

Wrecker laughs and grins wide, scanning the crowd like a hunter tracking prey. “Alright, mesh’la,” he says, wagging his eyebrows at you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You blink. “Wait…what?”

“Relax,” he says, sliding out of the booth. “I’ve got… business to attend to.” He waves over his shoulder without looking back. “Don’t wait up!”

You turn in time to see him disappear into the sea of bodies, already laughing with a woman who’s clearly charmed by his size and energy. Within seconds, he’s leaning down to kiss her, the two of them swallowed up by the crowd.

You snort softly, shaking your head. “So… I’m guessing that’s ‘adulting’?”

Hunter’s quiet chuckle rumbles through the din. “Yeah. Pretty much. We won’t see any of them for the rest of the night. They need to blow off steam.”

Your gaze drifts across the room. Echo’s leaning casually against the bar, a Twi’lek’s hand splayed across his chest as he murmurs something that makes her laugh. Tech, somehow, already has two admirers, one on each arm, talking faster than they can probably follow. Wrecker’s nowhere to be found.

You look back at Hunter, realization hitting hard and hot in your chest. “And you?” you ask, fingers idly swirling the straw in your glass. “You don’t… need to blow off steam?”

Hunter glances at you then, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Not like that,” he says simply, eyes steady and unreadable in the low light. 

“Oh.” You nod, pretending to study the condensation on your glass, though your pulse is thrumming in your ears.

Hunter leans back, folding his arms. “You, though,” he says quietly, “should feel free to do whatever you want. It’s your free for all too.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out thin. Around you, the lights flash, the music pounds, and bodies move in a dizzy blur of color and sound. You know you could stand, join the crowd, find someone to dance with… someone you can blow off steam with. It really has been so, so long since you were with someone like that.

But you don’t want anyone else.

Not when the one you’ve wanted all along is sitting right next to you, his shoulder brushing yours, his presence grounding you in the chaos.

You glance at him again, heart skipping. “I think,” you murmur, voice barely audible over the music, “I’d rather stay here.”

His lips quirk, slow and knowing. “Yeah,” he says softly, turning his glass in his hand. “Me too.”

You stay seated a little longer, watching the crew vanish into their distractions, until Hunter finally leans over and murmurs, “Ready to get out of here?”

You nod, sliding off the bench. The bass thumps in your chest as you move through the crowd, Hunter close behind. He doesn’t hold your hand, but the subtle shift of his shoulder brushing yours is enough to keep you aware of him.

Outside, the air hits you like a wave of relief. The forest smells sharp and clean, a welcome contrast to the sweaty tang of the bar. The moon hangs low, pale and bright, filtering through the treetops.

Hunter falls into step beside you, moving slow and easy as you make your way to the trail leading to the ship. “Better?” he asks, his voice low, private, as if only you two exist in the quiet.

“Much,” you breathe, letting the cool air wash over you and the tension of the bar fade. “I don’t know how you handle it in there with your… senses.”

He shrugs casually. “I just keep myself distracted.”

You force your heartbeat into submission, schooling it to behave when he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“So… what did you get into on your free for all day?” you ask as you step inside the Marauder, the familiar hum of the ship instantly calming your nerves.

Hunter exhales slowly. “Honestly? A fight.”

Your gaze drops and immediately notices the subtle bruising on his cheek, the torn knuckles. You reach for his hand, tilting it in the dim light of the galley. “Hunter! What happened?”

“Nothing serious,” he says, voice steady. “Blowing off steam. The boys have their ways… I have mine.”

You lift his other hand, tilting it in the dim light. “Surely you could’ve found some girl to help you with that,” you tease lightly.

His fingers tighten around yours, gentle, but enough to make your pulse trip.

“It’s on my wishlist,” he murmurs, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh before you can stop yourself. He chuckles too, low and rough, the sound warm in the quiet galley.

On impulse, you bring his bruised knuckles to your lips. Just a soft kiss, to make it better. But the second your lips touch his skin, the world narrows to the space between you. Time slows. Your breath catches.

Hunter stills completely. His amber eyes find yours, dark and unreadable. For a moment, the hum of the ship, the galaxy outside, everything disappears.

“A kiss to make it better?” he asks, voice a quiet rasp.

You nod, still caught in his gaze. Without breaking eye contact, you take his other hand and kiss that one too.

“Better?” you ask, trying for innocence. It comes out softer.

His eyes are darker now. Deeper. He swallows, jaw tightening. “Your wishlist,” he says, voice low and rough. “From last night, do you remember?”

You nod again, cheeks burning.

“Well,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “my wishlist has a few other things on it.”

You step back instinctively until the cool durasteel of the corridor meets your spine. He follows, slow and deliberate, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. Your heart hammers against your ribs.

“I want to hear it,” he says quietly.

For a dizzy second, you think you imagined it. “What?”

“Your heart.” His breath grazes your cheek. “I hear it all the time. When you’re awake. When you’re asleep. But I like it best when it skips. When I make it skip. Just like this.”

His hand lifts, rough fingertips tracing a line along your jaw. And your heart does stutter, betraying you completely.

“That’s on my wishlist,” he whispers. “To always hear that. To be the reason for it.”

You can barely breathe.

He exhales, eyes flicking between yours, searching, steady. “You said I’d make a good dad,” he adds, voice almost breaking. “That’s on my wishlist too.” A beat. “Kriff, but I don’t want it if it’s not with you.”

And you’re floored.

“Hunter…” You whisper, eyes locked on his. 

He leans closer to you, breath mingling with yours. 

“Tell me your wishlist.” He says, lips seconds from yours 

“You.” You say. “It’s just you. A family. You. Us.”

Then his lips are on yours in a crash. His arms wrap around you pulling you to him, and you feel yourself lifted until your legs wrap around his middle. Then he’s carrying you, still locked in that kiss, to his quarters. 

It's a frenzy when he sets you down. You’re clawing at your shirt, he’s tearing off your bra, and stripping his shirt at the same time. 

“Oh kriff.” He says, pulling you to him, bare chest to chest, for a long, deep kiss. 

You fumble with his belt buckle and he stops you. 

“You first. I have to taste you. Now.” He presses you gently into the bed and pulls off your pants and shoes, everything until you’re bare before him. He kneels at the foot of the bed and pulls you to him, throwing your legs over his shoulders. 

“This okay? You stop me if anything isn’t.” He says. You nod, breathless and he dives in. 

Stars bloom across your vision, and immediately you’re writhing at his tongue, his touch. “You taste better than I imagined. Than I could ever have imagined.” He says, lapping you up. His lips and tongue make small movements right at your apex, and you’re spiraling up and up, right when he plunges two fingers deep inside you. 

You melt in his grip, muscles tensing and untensing. 

“That’s my girl.” he says, pulling himself from you, licking his fingers clean and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Immediately you’re up, pulling at his pants and belt. 

“My turn.” you mumble, but he stills you again. 

“I’ll be too sensitive, mesh’la.” He says. “I need to be inside you. Can I be inside you?” He asks, punctuating with kisses to your neck, your jaw. 

You nod furiously. He undresses lazily, and when his cock springs free, you gasp. He strokes it gently as he kneels on the bed. 

“How do you want me?” You ask, ready to flip over into whatever position he wants, absolutely whatever he wants. 

“Just like this. I need to look at you, cyar’ika.” His voice a hum reverberating in your chest. 

Your heart is beating wildly out of your chest when he lines himself up over you. His eyes meet yours for just a moment, and he smiles as he slides himself home with a groan. You toss your head back, loving the feel of him inside you, such a perfect fit. 

“Oh mesh’la.’’ He says, slowly finding a rhythm that he can withstand. 

“I want you.” He says. “Ive wanted you since I first met you. Since your heart first fluttered for me”

Just like that your pounding heart flutters for him again. 

“Just like that.” he says, thrusting harder, faster. 

“I want you, Hunter.” You say. “I want all of you. I want more of you.”

You start to ramble, 

“I want… more of yous. I want your kids, all of them. I want us… a family, just like that.”

He’s losing it, hips snapping into yours, groaning as he leans down to kiss you deeply. 

“I’m gonna lose it.” He says. “Where?” 

“Inside me, Hunter. I mean it. I want them. I want us.”

He shudders and with a final thrust you feel him deep inside, just as you crest your wave for the second time. 

He falls to your side, panting next to you. 

“Kriff.” He says. 

Barely breathing, you stare at him. 

For a moment you lay there, staring at each other, eyes wide. Did that really just happen?

Your heart flutters again, and that’s all it takes. The two of you burst into laughter as Hunter pulls you close. 

This is it. All you could have wished for.

---

You’ve only been on Coruscant for three weeks, but Fives makes sure to come and visit you in the medbay everyday, just checking in. It’s been… sweet. Thoughtful. 

This idea, however? A disaster waiting to happen.

“Come on, you and Aby have practically nothing. It’ll be super small, just some 501st, maybe some 212th guys and their girls. A housewarming party! You need to meet more people here on Coruscant, and this way you get gifts at the same time!”

You roll your eyes. “You just want an excuse to throw a party.”

Fives grins, leaning back in his chair like he’s settling into a debate he knows he’ll win. “Yeah, but it’s a fun excuse. Look, you’ve been working nonstop since you got here. You need to have some fun, Coruscant-style fun.”

“I’m not sure your definition of fun and mine are the same,” you say, picking up your caf. “And I barely know anyone here.”

“Exactly!” he says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you. “Which is why this is perfect. Everyone gets to meet you properly, and you get to meet them when they’re not bleeding or yelling or in the medbay. Win-win.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Fives, you’re impossible.”

“Persistent,” he corrects with a grin. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you smiled. That’s a ‘yes smile’ if I’ve ever seen one.”

You shake your head, but he’s already leaning forward, that ridiculous grin softening into something more sincere. “Come on. You and Aby deserve to celebrate. You’ve both worked hard getting settled here. It’s not easy starting over, and… you’ve done it.”

The quiet warmth in his voice makes you pause. For all his teasing, Fives always knows when to drop the act and mean it.

You sigh, pretending to think it over. “Fine. But only if you help clean afterward.”

He gasps dramatically. “Me? Clean? You wound me.”

You arch a brow. “Then it’s off.”

“No, no, I’ll clean!” he blurts, throwing his hands up. “See? Already the best housewarming host ever.”

You laugh again, and he looks far too pleased with himself. The hum of the little cafe fills the quiet that follows. It’s easy, sitting here across from him, sunlight spilling in through the window, painting the brown of his eyes a honey gold. Easy to forget that you’re just friends. 

Maybe that’s why you say it. Because it’s been sitting in your chest for days now, and you need to let it out before it eats you alive.

“Are you bringing Kitty?” you ask, forcing your tone into something casual, like you’re not bracing yourself for the answer. “I still haven’t met her.”

Fives blinks, caught off guard. Then his expression shutters, mouth flattening into a thin, unhappy line. “Kriff, no,” he says. “Doesn’t mean she won’t show up, though. We’re… off.”

“Off again?” you echo, stirring your drink just to have something to do with your hands. 

His brows lift. “Wow. You been getting intel on my love life?”

You shrug, smirking, but your voice comes out a little too tight. “Hardcase said last night he gives it, what, three days before she’s back in your lap?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. You choke on your own laugh and hide it behind your mug. “His words, not mine.”

Fives groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Hardcase needs to stop running his mouth.”

You grin, but there’s a tiny twist in your chest. Everyone in the 501st knows about Kitty. She’s been Fives’s… “something” since he first arrived on Coruscant as a shiny. She was the one he turned to between each and every of his numerous flings. Not exactly a girlfriend, but definitely not nothing. They broke up the night you arrived on Coruscant…then got back together two days later. Now apparently, they’re “off” again.

From what you’ve gathered, she’s a bartender a few levels down, gorgeous, temperamental, and more than a match for Fives’s flirtatious streak. Maybe that’s why you can’t stop thinking about her. Or maybe it’s because Echo’s words from a few nights ago keep echoing in your head.

“Listen,” he’d said quietly after dinner, when the others had gone to grab drinks, “if you ever run into Kitty, don’t let her get in your head. She’s poison. She’ll size you up the second she sees you and do everything she can to make you feel small. Hates any woman who so much as talks to Fives.”

He’d looked at you pointedly.

“And you? You being his best friend? That’s gonna drive her crazy.”

Best friend.

That phrase hadn’t left you alone since.

When did that happen? When did you become Fives’s best friend? You’re still the girl from Appla, still figuring out how to exist in a place like Coruscant. Surely that title belonged to Echo. You’re just… you.

But the way Fives laughs with you, the way he finds you after his shifts, the way he looks at you like he’s actually glad you’re there, it makes something inside you flutter and ache at the same time.

You’re still turning that thought over when his voice cuts through your spiral.

“Hello? Are you listening to me?”

You blink, realizing he’s been talking the whole time. He’s leaning forward now, elbows on the table, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I’m trying to plan the perfect party here, and you’re a million miles away.”

“Sorry,” you say, straightening in your chair. “I was… thinking.”

“About what?” he asks, grin widening. “Me, obviously.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your drink to hide your smile. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late,” he says, flashing you that grin that’s gotten him out of more trouble than it should. “Now, back to business, streamers or no streamers? This is important.”

You hum distractedly, nodding as he starts droning on about lighting and music choices, pretending to listen while your mind drifts again, to Echo’s words, to Kitty and as always, to Fives.

—

“How do I look? Aby asks, spinning in the floor length mirror in the hallway of your apartment. 

The apartment assigned to you by the GAR is big, much bigger than your cottage on Appla. You don’t know what to do with so much empty space, the couch they provided and your beds being the only furniture. Besides the clothes you stowed away from your planet on the trek over, the place is an empty cave of bare walls and some sad haphazard party decorations that Fives insisted on. 

Speaking of, you have no idea where he is. He was supposed to be here an hour ago to help set up, but he’s nowhere to be found. 

That’s when there’s a knock on the door. You open it, ready to berate him, only to see your friends, Kix, Echo and Hardcase, and a new friend, Jesse, all holding heavy boxes in the doorway. You let them inside as they chat together and drop the crates. 

Kix starts up: “Food, decorations, lots of drinks, a stereo… yeah we should be good. Oh! And your gifts, obviously.”

You blink. “Gifts?”

Hardcase grins, already tearing open one of the boxes like a kid on his birthday. “Of course! It’s a housewarming party. What kind of guests would we be if we didn’t bring bribes?”

“Meaning?” you ask, crossing your arms as he pulls out a collection of mismatched mugs, each one painted with crude little blue stars.

“Meaning,” Kix cuts in dryly, “that Hardcase got into the rec-room supply closet and thought these were up for grabs.”

“They were lonely!” Hardcase protests. “Now they have a home.”

Echo shakes his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. “It’s a miracle you’ve made it this far in life without being court-martialed.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Jesse adds, grinning as he drops his box onto the counter. “I brought the important stuff, anyway.” He flips open the lid, revealing rows of neatly stacked bottles all various shades of amber.

Aby gasps dramatically. “Now that’s a housewarming gift.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you take in the chaos. “I’m starting to think this party might actually come together.”

“Wouldn’t have doubted it,” Kix says, setting up the small stereo on the counter. “Though I’m surprised Fives isn’t here yet. He was the one who couldn’t stop talking about this.”

You frown, checking your comm. “He’s over an hour late. Typical.”

Echo snorts. “He’s probably still trying to figure out what shirt makes him look less like a douche.” You all laugh.

As if summoned, there’s another knock at the door.

“That’ll be him,” Jesse mutters, smirking. “Ten credits say he’s overdressed.”

You pull open the door, ready with some sarcastic jab about his timing, but the words die on your tongue.

Fives stands there, hair slicked back, dark shirt rolled to his forearms, a bottle of wine dangling from one hand and that disarming grin in full effect. He looks good, and judging by the way his gaze drifts over you, he knows it.

“Well, well,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “Looks like I’m just in time.”

“You’re late,” you reply, though it comes out softer than you intended.

“Fashionably,” he corrects with a wink, stepping inside and handing you the bottle. “For you.”

You take it carefully, fighting the heat crawling up your neck. “You realize I don’t even own wine glasses, right?”

“That’s okay,” he says, flashing that grin again. “I brought some.”

From behind him, Echo groans. “He would.”

“Of course he would,” Kix mutters, though there’s fondness in it.

The music kicks on, a low, upbeat rhythm filling the room. Aby’s already dragging Kix toward the makeshift dance floor, and Hardcase is halfway through unwrapping a string of lights.

Fives watches it all with a quiet smile before glancing back at you. “Not bad for a backwater-girl-turned-Coruscant-hostess.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t push it.”

He grins wider, stepping closer, close enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne, all smoke and spice. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Then, from across the room, Aby shouts, “Hey! Somebody open the door. More guests!”

You turn just in time to see the door slide open again… and your heart drops straight to your feet.

A woman stands in the doorway, a crowd of people behind her. She’s all curves, crimson lipstick, and confidence, eyes sweeping the room before locking on Fives.

“Well,” she purrs, a smile cutting across her face, “isn’t this cozy?”

Fives’ smile falters, just slightly. “Kitty.”

Echo mutters something under his breath. Kix groans quietly. You force yourself to breathe, to smile.

So much for a quiet housewarming.

The party ignites quickly, members of the 212th, the 501st, and even a few Coruscant Guard members all in civilian clothes carting bags and boxes of the most miscellaneous items you’ve ever seen. Plates, bowls, silverware, vases, then blankets and picture frames and pillows. At some point someone carts in a whole table and chairs set. You and Aby are overjoyed, thanking everyone endlessly, but they care less about your appreciation and more about the music and the drinks.

The apartment fills faster than you can process. The air turns warm and loud, laughter bouncing off the bare walls as soldiers and their flings crowd into the space. Someone turns the music up, someone else opens another bottle, and suddenly, your quiet Coruscant apartment feels like the heart of a celebration that’s been waiting months to happen.

You can’t stop smiling, watching the 212th and 501st mingle like they’re off-duty brothers again, no rank, no orders, just joy. Even the Coruscant Guard troopers loosen their shoulders as they join in, red armor traded for casual jackets and the same easy grins that fill the room.

Aby darts from group to group, greeting everyone, glowing with the kind of excitement only she can summon. Someone hands her a drink, and she spins back toward you, eyes shining. “We might actually pull this off,” she says.

You laugh, still clutching your glass. “I think it’s already pulled off.”

“Correction,” Fives says, slipping up beside you again, “I pulled it off.”

You shoot him a look. “You were an hour late.”

“Ah, but would it really be a party without a dramatic entrance?” he teases, taking a sip from his glass.

Before you can answer, Hardcase cheers from across the room, lifting a blanket above his head like a trophy. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to steal this from the barracks lounge!”

Kix groans. “That’s not something to brag about, vod.”

“Is tonight about rules or fun?” Hardcase shouts back. “Because I vote fun!”

That gets another cheer. You can’t help it. You laugh, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. 

But as the crowd moves, you catch a flicker of red across the room. Kitty. She’s impossible to miss, a splash of color and confidence among the greys and blues of troopers. She’s standing near the refreshment table now, surrounded by a small orbit of men who can’t seem to look anywhere else.

She’s charming them easily, tossing her hair and laughing in that syrupy tone that manages to sound both effortless and practiced. But every few moments, her gaze cuts back toward you.

And Fives.

You feel it, like static in the air between you all. Fives hasn’t noticed yet; he’s busy helping Aby balance on a chair to hang the string lights, laughing when she nearly topples into Echo. But Kitty has. She watches you with the sharp, assessing look of someone taking inventory, her smile never quite reaching her eyes.

When she finally starts to move through the crowd, the sea of troopers parts for her without her having to say a word. You stiffen as she approaches, that crimson smile curving wider.

“So,” she says sweetly, voice cutting through the music as she stops beside you, “you must be her.”

You blink, caught off guard. “I’m sorry?”

“Fives’s new friend,” she clarifies, tone sugar-coated but sharp underneath. “The one everyone keeps talking about.”

Fives turns then, catching sight of her. “Kitty,” he says again, cautious this time. “Didn’t think you’d actually…”

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised,” she interrupts smoothly, her gaze flicking from him to you. “I wouldn’t miss meeting the famous girl from Appla.”

You open your mouth to reply, but she’s already smiling again, all charm and poison. “I have to say, I didn’t expect you to be so… precious.”

Echo, standing nearby, mutters under his breath, “And here we go.”

Fives steps in quickly, trying for diplomacy. “Kitty, come on.”

She ignores him, eyes still on you. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing. I just wanted to make sure the… decorations were up to standard.” She says as she turns her gaze to Fives.

You inhale slowly through your nose, meeting her gaze evenly. “Glad to have you.”

The music swells again, and someone calls Fives over to help move the table. He hesitates, looking between the two of you, tension flickering in his eyes.

You give him a small nod, forcing a smile. 

He lingers a moment too long before turning away.

And the second he does, Kitty steps closer, her perfume cutting through the air. Her voice drops low enough that only you can hear.

“He’s sweet, isn’t he?” she murmurs, her tone lilting. “Just… don’t get too attached. He always circles back.”

You hold her gaze, every instinct screaming to say something sharp, something that would wipe that smirk right off her face. But instead, you smile, tight and polite.

“We’re just friends.”

Her eyes flash. For a heartbeat, neither of you move. Then she laughs softly and pats your shoulder. “Ofcourse you are.”

She glides away through the crowd before you can respond, the sound of her laughter blending with the music.

Fives catches your eye from across the room, still holding one end of the table, his brow furrowed slightly in question.

You force another smile and lift your glass in a small toast.

—

The party was a hit, and two days later you’re still taking inventory of all of the gifts, and the mess, that were left behind. You’re daydreaming about making the apartment even more cozy as you work, imagining what blanket should go on the back of the couch, when you smell the smoke. 

You dash into the kitchen and there he is, panic all over his face and a flaming pot on the stove. 

“I didn’t peg you to be such a pyro, Fives,” you say as he waves a towel frantically at the small fire licking up from the pan.

“I just…” he sighs, giving up. “I promise I’ve been practicing since Appla. I’ve tried to make fried tipyip twice, and now I’m banned from the mess hall kitchens because of it!”

You laugh and grab a lid, smothering the flames in one swift motion. The kitchen fills with a thin haze of smoke, and Fives stands there, cheeks red. Whether from the heat or humiliation, you’re not sure.

He’d lost a dare to Hardcase: cook a real meal for the squad, no ration bars allowed. Tonight was supposed to be his big win. The boys would be here in an hour, and at the rate he was going, everyone was leaving hungry and maybe a little asphyxiated.

He turns toward you, eyes wide. “Please… just a little help?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not.” You cross your arms. “I swore an oath not to help you. I’m only here because you needed my kitchen, and to keep you from burning down my apartment.”

Fives groans, dragging his hands down his face.

“I’d start over if I were you,” you add, patting his shoulder. “You might even have time to salvage something edible if you really, really try.”

You slip off to your room before he can argue, grinning as you hear him muttering to himself. 

You lose track of time, buried in organizing, until there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it!” Fives calls.

A spike of suspicion jolts through you.  You bolt out of your room just as the door swings open.

“How much do I owe you…” Fives starts, reaching for his wallet, but the words die on his tongue.

“Special delivery,” Kix says, holding up a stack of takeout containers with a knowing grin. Behind him, the delivery driver is already making a quick escape down the hall.

Aby laughs, looping her arm through Kix’s as they step inside.

You can’t help but smile. The two of them together look effortlessly happy. Something soft and warm flickers in your chest at the sight. Aby and Kix had been circling each other for weeks now. You’re just waiting for them to make it official.

“Ah, Kriff.” Fives says, head hanging low. You storm up to him and slap his arm a few times as you talk, each word punctuated with a knock. “How. Dare. You. Cheat.” You say, and he feigns injury. 

“Please, I was desperate!” He wails and you shake your head at him, disappointment on your face. 

The door opens again and the rest of the boys filter in, Hardcase, Jesse and Echo. 

“Smells good in here!” Hardcase says, hands rubbing together. 

“Don’t get your hopes up.” You say. “Fives is a dirty, dirty cheater.”

Fives pulls his hands down his face. “I had no other choice. I didn’t want anyone to face death by poison at my hands.”

Everyone laughs. You grab out all the mismatched plates you have and set the table, Kix and Aby laying the food out for everyone as you all grab a plate and seat yourselves. 

The dinner is delicious, much to Fives’ credit for choosing it. You all laugh and talk over the meal and just as soon as it’s plated, it's over. 

“Holo?” Aby asks, and the boys jump at the chance. You laugh and nod, and Aby and the others all head over to the two couches and few armchairs in your large living room, flicking on the holoscreen. 

You pick up the plates and take everything over to the kitchen sink, starting up a soapy sponge and get to cleaning. 

“Scoot over.” You hear someone say, and you slide over to the left without looking. His hands plunge into the hot, soapy water and grab a dish. Your fingers brush. 

Fives starts washing dishes, right there beside you, just like back on Appla. 

You glance up at him, surprised. “You don’t have to…” “I know,” he interrupts with that familiar grin, “but I want to.”

The quiet hum of conversation and laughter filters in from the living room as the two of you fall into an easy rhythm. You wash, he rinses, and every so often your hands bump again.

It’s domestic in a way that feels dangerous. Familiar. 

“Still remember how to do this?” you tease, nudging him with your elbow.

He chuckles. “You kidding? You think I’d forget Appla? Best training I ever got.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

Dishes done, you and Fives make your way into the living room, where only one large armchair sits empty.

“Go ahead,” you say. “I’ll just sit on the floor.”

“Hell, no,” Fives replies, grabbing your wrist. “We can share. Come on.”

He squeezes onto one side of the plush chair, and you slide in beside him. Your thighs press together tightly, uncomfortable for both of you, but neither of you says a word.

“Here,” he murmurs, sliding an arm under your legs and turning you sideways, resting your legs across his lap. You can’t help the blush that creeps across your cheeks, but it’s far more comfortable this way. You lean back against the armrest, head resting on the soft chair back.

One of his hands settles on your shin, warm and steady. As the holo flickers to life, the other hand drifts just above your knee, lightly resting on your thigh. It sears, a fire that has nothing to do with the screen.

The holo hums softly, but you barely notice it. Every time his fingers flex slightly, heat shoots up your leg, and you shift just enough to keep your balance, heart hammering in your chest.

Fives leans back against the chair, eyes on the holo, but you catch him stealing glances at you out of the corner of his eye. He smirks faintly each time, as if daring you to look back, and you can’t help it. You do.

“Are you… distracted?” he whispers, voice low, teasing.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, cheeks burning.

His hand presses a fraction closer, brushing your skin in a way that’s deliberate but not overt, and your stomach twists in anticipation. For a moment, the holo might as well not exist. Just you, him, and the warmth between you.

Then a laugh from Aby on the other side of the room pulls both of you back, the tension breaking just enough for you to breathe, but not enough to make the searing feeling in your thigh fade. Fives catches your eye and winks, and you instinctively stick your tongue out at him. 

This is friendship. This is what friends do. They banter, they share seats. They have fun. 

Just friends. 

—

It’s days later and the shooting range is… not your style. You’ve only held a blaster once, and that was on Appla when you were too busy saving Fives’ life to care about aiming. 

The boys insisted it would be fun, but you know the truth. Kix wanted to show off in front of Aby, his now official girlfriend. It happened that night you all ate takeout and watched holos in your apartment. He whispered it to her. “Be mine?” And she squealed so loud you had to pause the holo. 

You smile at them, Kix standing behind her, helping her aim. They’re cute. It’s honestly a good match, his snark and seriousness to her bubbly effervescence. 

“Are you gonna shoot or what?” Hardcase asks, and you shake your head. “Just observing.” 

The truth is you’re preoccupied. You can tell the rest of the boys are too. Echo and Fives and Rex are all on some secret special mission. You haven’t heard from them in days. 

It’s the longest you’ve gone without talking to Fives since you landed on Coruscant. 

Blaster bolts whiz down the lanes, the loud whirring grating on your nerves. At first, it almost drowns out the comms.

“Ah, kriff,” Kix mutters. “Urgent meeting at HQ. We’ve gotta run.”

“Should we come too?” you ask, and Aby looks up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You two can wait outside the meeting hall,” Kix says, shrugging. “It’s probably nothing crazy. Just a debrief, the others are supposed to be returning today.”

Returning? Fives is back on Coruscant? Your heart hammers in your chest.

You and Aby follow, making your way to HQ, and settle on a few storage crates just outside the door. At first, the familiar laughter of the 501st drifts through the walls. Then… silence.

They’re in there longer than you can stand.

Finally, the door opens and the troopers file out, one by one. You and Aby rise to your feet. Kix comes first, burying his face in her shoulder without a word.

“What’s going on?” she asks softly, patting his shoulder.

Silence stretches.

Rex steps out next, helmet tucked under his arm. His face is grim, rigid, unreadable.

“Rex… what’s going on?” you ask, your voice shaking. He doesn’t answer.

Grief and dread crash over you all at once, a weight in your chest you can’t shake. You know. You just know.

“No,” you whisper, and without thinking, you bolt toward the room, desperate to see the two missing troopers. Echo. Fives.

You crash headfirst into someone leaving the room.

Fives.

His eyes are stony, jaw set, shoulders squared like nothing can touch him. Relief surges…then the sharp sting of reality hits.

“Oh my stars, Echo,” you gasp. Then your heart clenches.

“Fives?” you whisper, tentative.

He doesn’t meet your gaze. He brushes past you, walking down the hall with that unshakable tension in his stride. The others glance at you, sorrow in their eyes.

Your instinct screams to chase him but a firm hand lands on your shoulder, steadying you.

“Give him some time,” Rex says quietly.

You nod, chest tight, watching Fives disappear around the corner.

–

That night Aby spends with Kix, off remembering Echo by visiting his favorite spots in the city. You sit in your dark apartment, alone, comm in hand. Just in case he calls. 

The knock at your door is soft, hesitant. You know before you open it who it is.

He’s standing there, shoulders slumped, eyes dark and haunted, the weight of the day pressing down on him. He doesn’t answer. He just steps inside the moment you move aside.

Aby and Kix are out, leaving the apartment quiet except for the soft hum of Coruscant. You stay close, letting him drop onto the couch beside you. His body is rigid at first, coiled tight like he might shatter, but he doesn’t move away.

“Echo,” he whispers, voice breaking. “He… he’s gone.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “I know,” you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. “I know.”

Fives leans forward, burying his face in his hands. “I keep thinking I should’ve, should’ve done something more. I…” He can’t finish.

You shift closer, wrapping an arm around him. “You did what you could. He knew that. We all knew that. You’re not alone, Fives.”

He leans fully into you, letting the grief spill out in trembling breaths and whispered names. For a long while, you just sit together, shoulder to shoulder, holding onto one another while the loss of Echo hangs heavy in the room.

Hours pass in quiet murmurs and the occasional choked sob. He doesn’t sleep fully, but he rests his head against your shoulder, hand gripping yours as if letting go would mean losing himself entirely.

For tonight, you’re his anchor. You’re his safe place. And in the shadow of grief, in the absence of the friend you both loved, that is enough.

In the morning, there’s no sign of Aby or Kix. The apartment is quiet except for the soft hum of Coruscant outside. You wake to find Fives’ head resting in your lap on the couch, a blanket lazily draped over both of you.

You reach down and softly brush his hair away from his face. In sleep, the weight of his grief doesn’t show. The sorrow that presses on him like a stone is gone, replaced with a rare, fragile peace. You sigh, slowly pulling your hand away… only for his own hand to twitch awake and catch your wrist, guiding it back to his hair.

“More,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

You oblige. Your fingers move gently, stroking his scalp, letting him drift in and out of sleep. Half an hour passes like this, the quiet broken only by his soft breaths and the faint hum of the city outside.

When his eyes finally flutter open, the traces of tears are still there, glimmering. He sits up slowly, stretches, but doesn’t look at you, doesn’t speak. And yet the tears continue to fall.

You slide closer, wrapping your arms around him. His body shudders against yours, the sobs wracking him.

You never thought you’d see him like this. The charming, ever-positive Fives, the one who jokes through everything, broken. This is raw, unguarded. You want so badly to gather him up, to piece him back together.

“Do you want me to call anyone? The boys? Maybe… Kitty?” you whisper, trying to find any way to ease the ache.

His sobs turn into quiet laughter, shaky and soft.

“I just want you, honey,” he admits, the word slipping out before he can stop it. He stills the moment it leaves his lips.

You laugh softly. “Honey, huh? You can call me honey if you want, Fives.”

He laughs with you, gentle and raw, tears still streaming.

“It suits you,” he murmurs, voice rough but warm, and you feel it. The trust, the closeness, the unspoken understanding that you’re it for him, now. 

His friend. His best friend. 

—

A few weeks pass, and you watch as Fives pieces himself back together. The edges of him start to soften again. The jokes come easier, the smile doesn’t look as forced. You start bringing him caf during late-night debriefs, and you comm him after every long mission just to check in. 

It’s after one of those long missions that you decide to invite the boys over for a homecooked meal. You’ve heard they’ve “adopted” two new brothers, and you’re eager to meet them. Aby nearly squeals when she finds out Kix will be there too. Things between them have been… well, something special. You might even call it love, if you were bold enough to name it. Whenever Kix stays late at your shared apartment, you do your best to give them space, which usually means finding Fives and letting him distract you with whatever mischief he’s up to.

There’s no knock this time when the door swings open. The sound of boots and laughter floods the little apartment like a storm. You’re standing over the stove, the warm scent of ronto pies filling the kitchen, when Hardcase’s voice booms through the room.

“Welcome home! Well. Our second home.” He grins, slinging an arm around the shoulders of two familiar but unfamiliar faces, one serious, one shy.

You turn, wiping your hands on a towel. “So these are the new recruits I’ve heard about.”

The serious one straightens immediately. “Dogma, ma’am.”

The shy one nods, voice soft. “Tup. It’s, uh… nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you say, smiling. “Make yourselves at home. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Tup hovers near the kitchen doorway for a moment, watching you move between the counter and the stove. Then, hesitantly:

 “Can I, um… help with anything? Maybe set the table?”

You blink, surprised, then hand him a stack of mismatched plates. “Sure. That’d be great.”

He takes them carefully, as though they might break if he moves too fast. “It smells amazing, by the way,” he says after a beat. “Did you really make all this yourself?”

“Guilty,” you say with a grin. “Cooking’s how I unwind.”

He glances up at you, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Better than the mess hall. Way better.”

You laugh softly. “I’ll take that as the highest compliment from a soldier.”

Fives’ voice drifts in from behind you. “Careful, Tup, she’ll put you on dish duty if you aren’t careful.”

You glance over your shoulder. Fives is leaning against the counter, arms folded, smile easy but eyes sharper than usual. Tup just chuckles under his breath, unbothered.

“I don’t mind,” he says quietly, more to you than to Fives. “Wouldn’t be fair to let you do all the work.”

That earns him a flicker of warmth from you, but you see Fives straighten just a bit.

Dinner is easy and loud and full of laughter. Hardcase keeps trying to steal seconds, Jesse tells a story that makes Kix choke on his drink, and Aby glows every time Kix looks her way. Tup sits beside you, quiet but attentive, always ready to pass a dish or refill a glass before you even ask. You notice it.

Fives notices that too. The way Tup leans in when you speak, the way you smile back. The sound of your laughter catches in his throat in a way it never used to.

When the meal winds down, you stand to start clearing plates  but Tup’s already halfway to his feet. “Let me help,” he offers quickly.

“I’ve got it,” you start to say, but he shakes his head.

 “You cooked. Least I can do is clean up.”

You give in with a little nod, and together you start stacking dishes. He follows you into the kitchen, sleeves rolled up. The two of you move easily around each other, quiet conversation, a few laughs over Hardcase’s antics. You’re halfway through rinsing when Fives appears in the doorway, drying cloth in hand, like he’s been waiting for the chance to step in.

“Hey, I’ve got dish duty,” he says lightly.

Tup glances over, half-smiling. “Already covered, vod.”

Fives’ grin tightens and he looks at you. “Yeah? Thought that was our thing.”

You frown at him over your shoulder. “You two have assigned chores now?”

“Tradition,” Fives says, but it comes out flat.

You hand him a plate to dry anyway. “Fine. Trade off.”

Tup chuckles. “Guess I’ll make the cut next time.”

“You wish,” Fives mutters, quiet but not quiet enough.

You shoot him a look. Not angry, just questioning, but he’s already turning to the sink, scrubbing harder than necessary.

When the last dish is done, you wipe your hands on a towel. “Holo time?” you ask, trying to break the tension.

The lights are low when you step into the living room. The holo flickers blue and gold across the walls; Aby and Kix are curled together on the couch, Hardcase sprawled half-off the other end, Jesse on the floor with a blanket. Dogma stands near the wall, arms crossed.

Tup follows behind you, uncertain, until you pat the empty cushion beside you in the armchair. “There’s room here.”

He smiles, starting toward you…

“No.”

Fives’ voice cuts in from the kitchen doorway.

He saunters forward, his usual smile there but his eyes don’t match it. “That’s my seat.”

Tup pauses mid-step, confusion flickering across his face. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t…”

Fives claps him on the shoulder, too hard to be casual. “No harm done. Plenty of room over there with Hardcase.”

Before anyone can say otherwise, Fives drops into the chair beside you, thigh brushing yours.

You glance at him. “Your seat, huh?”

“Again, tradition,” he says easily, stretching out, arm over the back of the chair.

Jesse snorts from the floor. “You mean the one where you scare everyone else out of it?”

“Exactly,” Fives says.

You roll your eyes but settle in, legs stretched across his lap as usual. His arm stays where it is, hand brushing your shoulder now and then. 

After a few quiet minutes, you murmur, “You know, Tup’s sweet. You don’t have to scare him off.”

Fives doesn’t look at you. “Didn’t scare him. Just don’t like watching him look at you like that.”

You turn to him, brows raised. “Like what?”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. You should go for it.”

The words come sharp and offhand, like he’s throwing them just to wound himself first.

You stare at him. “That’s not funny.”

“Didn’t mean it to be.”

He focuses on the holo then, jaw tight, thumb tapping once against your knee before going still. The flicker of light paints his face in shifting color.

Across the room, Tup laughs softly at something Hardcase says, but the sound only makes Fives’ hand curl tighter where it rests on your leg.

It’s late when the holo ends. The others file out in a wave of yawns and laughter, Kix tugging a sleepy Aby toward her bedroom door, Jesse and Hardcase arguing over who cheated, Dogma politely thanking you again for dinner. Tup’s the last to leave, giving you a shy smile as he lingers in the doorway.

“Thanks again,” he says. “For the food. And… for letting me help.”

You smile back. “Anytime, Tup. Glad you came.”

He nods, hesitates like he wants to say something else, but then just gives a little salute before disappearing down the hall.

When you turn around, Fives is still there, leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed, expression unreadable in the dim light.

“You didn’t have to chase him off, you know,” you say quietly.

He huffs out something that’s half laugh, half sigh. “Didn’t chase him off. Just… didn’t feel like sharing a seat tonight.”

You tilt your head.

He looks at you then, really looks, and for a second, all the armor drops. “Guess I don’t like watching someone else take my place.”

The words hang there, raw and unguarded. You open your mouth, but he cuts you off before you can answer.

“Forget it,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That came out wrong. I’m…” He exhales. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. It wasn’t fair to him. Or you.”

You cross your arms, soft but firm. “You think?”

He winces at your tone, but there’s a flicker of a smile there too. “Yeah. I think.”

You step closer. “What’s going on, Fives?”

He shrugs, eyes fixed on the floor. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

There’s a long pause before he answers. “You ever feel like the galaxy’s moving on without you? Like everyone’s healing, finding something new, and you’re just…” He gestures vaguely. “Stuck in the same kriffing place.”

Your chest tightens. “You’re not stuck, Fives.”

He finally looks up at you. His grin returns then, small, a little sad. “What if I’m just old news. An old friend you might forget.”

You blink. “Fives…”

“Anyway,” he mutters, forcing a crooked smile, “guess I should actually head out before Kix starts gossiping.”

You laugh softly.  He backs toward the door, voice lighter now. “Thanks for dinner. And for not kicking me out after I acted like an idiot.”

“You did act like an idiot,” you say, smiling despite yourself.

“Yeah, but I apologized. That’s gotta count for something.”

He hesitates at the door, fingers brushing the frame. “Night, honey.”

And then he’s gone.

—

The hum of medbay machinery fills the room as you sort through med-packs. Your comm chirps, and you glance at the screen: Aby’s name flashing.

“Hey, Aby,” you answer, keeping your voice low.

“You will not believe this!” she squeals, practically vibrating through the comm. “The squad just got word, there’s going to be a military ball next week! Only for troopers and their guests! Dresses, music, dancing… it’s going to be amazing! Kix and I are already planning!”

You grin, leaning against the counter. “Next week? That’s… fast. And only troopers?”

“Yes! And… well…” Her voice drops a teasing note. “Tup might ask you.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling faintly. “Oh really?”

Before you can respond further, the medbay door swings open with a rush. Fives strides in, slightly out of breath, comm in hand, eyes immediately locking on you.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and sharp, leaning against the doorframe. “Got a minute?”

“Of course,” you reply, hanging up the comm. “Everything okay?”

He steps closer, tension radiating off him. “Have you heard about the military ball?”

“Yes,” you nod, feeling your stomach twist.

“Well. Tup?” he adds, voice low, tight. “He’s going to ask you.”

You blink at him, then glance at your comm. “So I’ve heard.”

Fives exhales sharply, leaning against the counter, jaw tight. “Yeah. So… what are you going to say?”

You shrug, trying to stay casual. “I… haven’t thought about it yet.”

His grin is gone, replaced by a tense line of his mouth. “Go with me instead.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“As friends,” he says. “Don’t worry about slow dances, or… anything. Just… go with me. Don’t let him ask first.”

You hesitate. “Fives…”

He leans closer, voice dropping so only you can hear. “I don’t like watching you and Tup get close. Not one bit. So yeah. Go with me. As friends. No questions.”

You glance at Fives, who’s watching you, tense and restless. His insistence, the sharp edge in his voice leaving you confused. Then it dawns on you.

“I can’t believe you’re jealous,” you murmur.

“Not jealous,” he mutters, eyes flicking away, voice low and sharp. “Just… not good at watching other people get close to you.”

You bite back a smile, caught between amusement and frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he says, smirking despite the tension. He steps back, letting you breathe, but the air between you feels charged, too small for the emotions swirling in it.

“Go with me,” he says again, quieter this time. “As friends. I’ll be the perfect gentleman. You’ll have the time of your life.”

Silence stretches, thick and charged. You can feel his warmth beside you, the tension rolling between you like static.

Finally, you nod once. “Fine.”

He exhales, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his mouth. “Fine.”

The quiet settles again, heavier now. You clear your throat, trying to break it. “One condition,” you say.

“Anything.”

“Buy me flowers. I know we’re going as friends, but I still want flowers. Lilacs.”

He looks at you for a long moment, then his grin spreads, slow and boyish.

“Done.”

—

The dress feels heavy on you. Not just from the beadwork, but from everything it carries. Each opalite gem catches the light as you move, shimmering like frozen tears. It’s beautiful… but you don’t feel beautiful. You feel strange. Like the air has shifted and you can’t quite catch your breath.

Excited, maybe. Nervous, definitely. But beneath it all, there’s something softer, lonelier. A weight you can’t name pressing against your ribs.

Aby notices. Of course she does. She’s sitting on the floor, fastening the strap of her heel, when she glances up and narrows her eyes.

“Okay,” she says, standing. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been quiet this whole time. Not even dancing to my pre-game playlist. That’s a crime.”

You try to laugh, but it catches in your throat. You sit beside her on the edge of the bed, the dress bunching awkwardly around your knees. The sight of her, radiant and confident, makes something twist in your chest.

And then, the worst mistake: you look at her. Because the moment you do, your vision blurs.

Aby’s face softens instantly. “Oh, sweetheart…”

You shake your head, voice cracking. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe I’m just nervous? Maybe it’s the dress, or the ball, or…”

She takes your hands gently, grounding you. “You’re not nervous about the ball.”

You blink, confused.

“It’s Fives,” she says, simply.

Your stomach flips. “What about him?”

Her smile is small, tender. “You love him.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out watery. “Of course I love him. He’s one of my best friends.”

She tilts her head, the way she does when she’s about to call you out on something. “No. You love him.”

You inhale sharply, shaking your head. “Aby, no. We’re… we’re just friends.”

“Right,” she says softly, brushing away a tear that’s escaped down your cheek. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You keep saying you’re friends, but it’s tearing you apart.”

You look down, fingers twisting in your lap, the beads of your dress catching on your skin. “He doesn’t see me that way.”

Aby sighs, squeezing your hand. “Sweetheart, have you seen the way he looks at you? Like he’s trying to memorize you every time. Like he’s afraid if he blinks, you’ll disappear.”

Your breath hitches. You’d noticed it, of course. The way his eyes lingered just a little too long, the way his jokes carried a softness that wasn’t there with anyone else. You’d just never let yourself believe it meant anything.

Aby leans in closer, her voice gentle but firm. “You need to stop pretending this isn’t real. Go tonight, look him in the eye, and say something. Even if it’s scary.”

You swallow hard, blinking back more tears. “And what if he doesn’t feel the same?”

“Then at least you’ll know,” she says, brushing a curl behind your ear. “But if he does, and I’m telling you he does, you’ll never forgive yourself for staying quiet.”

“I’m scared.” You whisper to the mirror in front of you. 

Aby meets your eyes in the glass, her reflection steady and warm. “That just means it matters.”

Just then there’s a knock at the door. 

“Stay here, get cleaned up. I’ll go stall them.” Aby says, and leaves you to yourself. 

Do you? Love him?

You know the answer. 

All those touches that left your heart fluttering. His smile, his laugh. 

Your heart aches. Then you take a deep breath. 

No.

Tonight is just about fun. Not big reveals and secrets and…love. Aby’s wrong.

Just fun. Just friends. That’s all.

You touch up your face and then make your way into the living room where you can hear Fives and Kix whistling over Aby’s maroon dress, her no doubt spinning and absorbing the attention. 

You step into view and silence falls. 

Kix speaks up, “You look great.” He says with a smile. Aby elbows him, playfully. 

Fives just stares. 

“We’ll meet you there.” Aby says, giving you a look while dragging Kix out the door. 

You walk up to Fives. He’s still staring. 

“So?” You say, arms outstretched to show the dress. 

“You.” He swallows. “You look…beautiful” he nearly whispers. 

You laugh quietly. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

There's a moment of quiet, with Fives clenching and unclenching his fists. Then a look of shock crosses his face. 

“Kriff! I forgot your flowers! I bought them and everything, I left them in the barracks.”

You laugh. “Well thank you for the lovely bouquet anyway.”

The two of you are caught in each other's gaze for a moment more. Then he offers you his arm and the two of you are off into the night. 

—

The ballroom is alive with soft light and the low hum of music, the polished floors reflecting the glow of chandeliers. Fives leads you inside, his arm steady around yours, and the rest of the squad drifts off to their own corners, leaving the two of you to your own world.

He pulls you onto the dance floor without waiting for a song to start, spinning you with surprising gentleness despite the heels digging into your feet. Laughter bubbles up from you both as you match steps, stumbling just slightly, and he steadies you effortlessly.

“You’re killing me with these moves,” he teases, his grin bright, eyes shining.

“You’re just mad I didn’t fall on my face,” you reply, spinning under his arm and letting the music carry you.

He laughs, a rich, warm sound that fills your chest. “I like watching you dance.”

You blush.

The night stretches on in a blur of music and laughter. Fives is patient, attentive, charming in a way that feels effortless, and for a while, you let yourself forget the weight of everything else. Just let yourself float in this small bubble of joy.

Eventually, you excuse yourself, needing a moment to catch your breath. You slip into the quieter hallway toward the refreshment area, smoothing your dress and brushing your hair out of your face. As you reach for a glass of water, a voice halts you.

“Well, well… look who decided to show up.”

You freeze. Kitty. Fives’ ex. She’s leaning casually against the table, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

You force a polite smile. “Kitty.”

She tilts her head, smirk in place but her eyes piercing. “You look… lovely. All glimmering and perfect. Just like him, huh?”

You stiffen. “What do you want, Kitty?”

She steps closer, lowering her voice to something dangerous. “I’m just saying… if he really wanted you, you’d know by now. He’d be clear. Simple as that.”

Your stomach twists, heat rising to your cheeks. “That’s… not true,” you say quietly, heart hammering.

Kitty laughs, low and knowing. “Oh, come on. You know how he is. Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart. You might think he cares, but he’s Fives. He doesn’t do subtle. If he wanted you, you’d already know.”

You glance toward the dance floor, and through the crowd, you see Fives laughing with another trooper, completely unaware of the conversation. Your chest tightens, anger and frustration sparking.

You straighten your shoulders. “We’re just friends.”

Kitty tilts her head, amused. “And that's all you'll ever be.”

With that, she glides past you, leaving a cold trace of challenge in her wake. You grip your glass tightly, taking a deep breath, and turn back toward the dance floor.

The next slow song hums through the ballroom, soft and heavy with promise. You glance toward Fives and freeze. Kitty has looped her arm through his, her grin bright and teasing.

“Fives, come on. Just one dance,” she purrs, leaning close.

He stiffens, just enough for you to notice. “Kitty… really? Who are you even here with?” he mutters under his breath, clearly reluctant. His hand rests lightly on her waist, polite, restrained, but you can see it. Every movement is measured, controlled.

Your stomach twists. You know he doesn’t want this, that he’s only appeasing her, but seeing him this close to anyone else makes something ache in your chest.

Before you can spiral further, Tup steps up beside you, hand extended, eyes warm and earnest. “May I have this dance?”

You take it immediately, letting him guide you to the floor. His presence is grounding. Each step, each turn, is confident and deliberate, but your chest still feels tight and constricting.

From the corner of your eye, you can’t help but see Fives and Kitty dancing together. She’s laughing, head tilted toward him, and he offers a tight-lipped smile, one hand still over hers. It’s polite. That’s all it is.

Tup spins you across the floor, eyes holding yours, the heat of his attention making you a little uncomfortable. Every so often, your glance flicks back toward Fives, and you only feel worse.

And then… the moment your stomach drops.

Kitty leans up, pressing her lips to Fives’. He doesn’t resist. He doesn’t pull away. The world tilts, the music fading into a muffled hum in your ears. Your hands tighten on Tup’s, pulse spiking, eyes wide.

Tup notices instantly, jaw clenching, but doesn’t say a word. His hand on yours is steady, but you can’t look away. Fives, the man who occupies every corner of your thoughts, is kissing someone else, even if only out of obligation or politeness.

You force yourself to breathe, but a hot sting rises behind your eyes. You had told yourself tonight was just fun. Just friends. But seeing them like this, reality crashes in: it’s not just fun. Not for you. Not anymore.

The dance ends, and you gently step away from Tup. “I… need a moment,” you murmur, slipping out toward the balcony. Aby, mid-laugh with colleagues, catches sight of you and freezes. She can tell. She can always tell. She hustles after you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Just breathe, okay?” she says, guiding you to a quiet corner. You let yourself sit, dress rustling, shaking slightly, trying to steady your racing heart. You don’t cry, though your chest aches. 

You want him. You want him so badly it hurts. 

And he doesn’t want you.

A soft shadow falls over the balcony. “Hey… there you are.” Fives’ voice cuts through the night.

You stay still, shoulders tight, not turning. Aby rises, blocking him instinctively. “Just a second, Fives…” she starts, frowning, but you stop her with a whisper. “It’s fine.” She gives you a quick hug and returns inside, leaving you alone with him.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is low, hesitant.

“For?” you ask, still not looking at him.

He shakes his head. “I… I don’t know. There’s nothing going on with Kitty. It didn’t mean anything.”

You shrug, voice flat. “Why do I care if there is? We’re just friends.”

He flinches at your words, and for a moment, you see it, the tightness in his jaw, the tension coiling through his shoulders. “We’re… just friends,” he repeats, his voice low.

He studies you now, really sees you, the way your hands tremble slightly, the shimmer in your eyes from unshed tears.

“Honey…” he murmurs, a soft plea, hand outstretched to yours.

“I want to go home, Fives,” you whisper, voice breaking just enough to make him flinch.

He pauses then nods, dropping his hand. “I’ll get us a speeder.”

The ride is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the spaces between your thoughts. Neither of you speak, though the tension is thick, lingering like smoke. At your apartment, he walks you to the door.

“Thank you… for tonight,” you murmur, head down, refusing to meet his gaze.

He reaches out, taking your chin gently between his fingers, tilting your face up so your eyes meet his.

A lock of hair falls across your face, and he brushes it back softly. His hand lingers a moment longer than necessary. He swallows hard. “I still owe you flowers,” he whispers.

You laugh quietly, one solitary tear sliding down your cheek.

He doesn’t hesitate. His thumb brushes the tear away, lingering against your skin. Neither of you says more. 

With a quiet nod, he steps back. “Goodnight,” he murmurs, voice barely audible over the city’s hum.

You close the door slowly, leaning against it for a moment. Your pulse still races.

You’re still sitting there, back against the door, when the banging starts. Urgent. Furious.

You wipe your eyes, startled, and open the door.

Fives stands there, breathless, “No,” he says, voice rough.

You blink. “Fives…”

He steps forward, words tumbling out fast. “We’re not ending tonight like that.” His hands rake through his hair. “Kriff, honey, I don’t even know what to say. I don’t know how to fix it, or make it better. I just… I can’t stand thinking that you’re hurting. That you’re crying because of me.”

The tears you’d fought so hard to hold back return, harder this time. He stops pacing instantly, crossing the space between you.

He pulls you into his arms. You collapse against him, inhaling the familiar warmth of him. You cling to him, fingers fisting in his shirt, and cry into his shoulder.

“Tonight was supposed to be fun,” he murmurs against your hair.

“Just fun. Just friends,” you whisper back, voice breaking.

He goes still. Then, softly: “I am your friend. And you’re mine. My best friend, honey.” He pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away tears. “And I’d do anything to make you happy.”

Your heart twists painfully. “I just wish things were simple.”

“In this day and age? Me and you?” He lets out a small, helpless laugh. “Nothing about this is simple. That’s what makes it special.”

He leans closer, forehead nearly touching yours. “Let me end the night the way it should’ve ended,” he whispers. “Can I have this dance?”

You nod, breath shaky, and place your hand in his.

You dance there in your living room, no music, no lights but the glow from the city through the window. You move slowly, swaying in rhythm only the two of you can hear. His hand fits at your waist, yours against his chest. The world shrinks until there’s only you and him, the quiet beat of two hearts trying to find each other.

By the time the moment ends, you’re both smiling: a little broken, a little healed.

Then his comm goes off, a shrill, jarring sound that slices through the stillness. You flinch. He checks it, jaw tightening.

“We’re shipping out in the morning,” he mutters, the weight of duty settling over him like armor. “Orders just came in. I’ve got to head out.”

He slips the comm back into his pocket and looks at you, unreadable, a thousand things flickering behind his eyes that he doesn’t say. His thumb brushes your knuckles once more, slow, lingering, as if memorizing the feel of your skin. Then he lets go.

Without another word, he turns and walks out into the night.

The door closes, leaving you in silence. You stand there for a long moment, staring at the space he’d just filled, the warmth he’d left behind fading too fast.

You sink down onto the couch, still in your dress, still holding the ghost of his touch in your hands. The city hums beyond the window, indifferent to the ache twisting inside you.

You’re alone with your thoughts and your feelings, and neither of them make any sense at all.

—

You wake to the relentless chirp of your comm. Messages flood in: Aby, Tup, Fives. Your chest tightens as you scroll through them, the words jumbling in your mind. Each ping seems to echo louder than the last, but the one that makes your heart flutter sits prominently at the top of the screen.

“Thank you for the last dance. Be thinking of you, honey. Home soon.”

Your fingers tremble as you stare at the message. You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. 

The feeling washes over you all at once. Resolve. 

You will tell him when he comes back. You have to.

You love him. Always have.

—

Days stretch into a haze. No word. Every holocall, every comm ping, your heart leaps, hoping.

Nothing.

Tonight though, something is different.

 Aby and you are placed on lockdown. Confined and restless. 

“What’s he saying?” You ask, trying desperately to see the comm in Aby’s hand. Kix had been giving her updates throughout the mission. Fives had never reached out. You know in your heart something is wrong, terribly wrong. 

“He’s on planet. He’s coming by.” Aby whispers.

You exhale at last. They’re home. Fives might even get here before Kix does, you think. 

Half an hour later there’s a knock at the door. You open it, ready to berate him for never responding to you, for making you worry. But it isn’t Fives.

It’s Kix.

“We need to talk.” He says. Your heart falls. 

The next hour is… lost to time. A blur. Words tumbling from Kix’s mouth, echoing in your mind like the soundtrack to a horror holo. 

They were on Ringo Vinda. Tup killed a Jedi. Fives, Tup on Kamino. Something happened. Something. Some… thing. He’s on Coruscant.

That should solve everything, right? He’s almost home. But Kix continues.

“Fives… he attacked the Chancellor. He’s gone rogue. I ran into him, he gave me some coordinates to pass on to Rex. I did. I’m sure Rex will sort everything out.”

Your chest constricts. Your hands shake. You can’t believe it.

 You comm Fives again, and again, desperate, pleading.

Silence.

Kix stays with you and Aby in your apartment. He says it’s in case Fives shows up. You worry it’s actually to turn Fives in if he does show up. Or worse. To protect you from Fives. 

Fives isn’t dangerous. This is all a misunderstanding. You know it. 

You lay in the dark of your room, trying desperately to sleep but knowing its futile. You’re just about to drift off, exhaustion seeping into your bones, when your comm flashes to life. 

You don’t even check to see who it is. You answer it. 

“Fives? Fives! Where are you?”

“Honey,” he breathes, voice ragged, almost breaking.

 It’s him. It’s really him.

You stumble to the floor, hands gripping the comm, tears spilling unbidden. “Fives! Oh stars, Fives.”

“Just listen,” he gasps. “I don’t have much time.”

Your heart aches as he speaks, each word slicing through you.

“We were never just friends,” he says, each syllable trembling. “It was never that for me. It’s you. From the moment we met, it’s been you. I should have kissed you. All those chances… I should have kissed you and I’ll regret that for all time… Honey, I still owe you those flowers.”

You nearly gasp into the comm: “Fives. Fives, it’s you for me too. Its always been you. Please, come home to me.”

There’s static. The comm cuts off abruptly. Silence crashes over you, heavier than anything you’ve felt before. You don’t know if he even heard you. 

You scream, sob, clutching the device to your chest. The tears come freely now, streaking your face.

Aby rushes in and kneels beside you, hand on your shoulder. You gasp out what just happened. 

 “He could still come back,” she whispers, voice steady, trying to anchor you. “Let’s just wait. He’ll come back.”

Morning light filters through your blinds. Your eyes are red, defeat etched in every line of your face. But when you hear the knock at the door you’re suddenly up, running to get it.

Hands shaking, you pull the door open.

Rex stands there, armor gleaming faintly in the soft light, holding a bouquet of lilacs. He doesn’t speak at first, just holds the flowers out to you, eyes unreadable.

“At the end, he said these were for you. To get these for you. Said he owed you. I’m… sorry,” he says finally, voice low, tense, the weight of unsaid words hanging in the air.

I’m sorry, he said.

I’m sorry.

—

“My advice is always ruin the friendship

Better that than regret it for all time

Should've kissed you anyway

And my advice is always answer the question

Better that than to ask it all your life

For weeks, there had been whispers of a coming Republic presence. But on a planet as remote as Appla, people had learned not to believe in rescue. Not until they saw the ships for themselves.

Now, as the first gunships descend through the clouds, the villagers gather beneath dripping awnings and patched-together umbrellas. The settlement is small, a scattering of stone and durasteel, built where the hills bleed ore into the valleys. Its people are a mosaic of the Outer Rim: Twi’leks and Pantorans, Togruta and humans alike, all drawn here by the promise of work and the rumor of safety.

Appla’s mines are rich with a rare mineral, one the Separatists have been desperate to control. There’s whispers of an attack. Other villages have fallen in recent weeks. That’s why the Republic has come. 

You’ve all strung up banners between lampposts and doorframes. Bright scraps of cloth flap wildly in the wind, colors running in the rain. A simple welcome for the soldiers they’ve been told will protect the town. For the first time in months, there’s a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you and your friends won’t be forgotten after all.

You’ve been placed in charge of housing the troops. Though the soldiers are rumored to bring their own tents, you and a few friends have worked tirelessly to clean up the local community hall to work as a makeshift headquarters for them here. The timelines are fuzzy, some say they'll stay mere days, others say months. All you know is that as you watch the men descend onto the red, muddy earth, the color smearing on their blue painted shins, you’re filled with a sense of hope and excitement. 

A leader of the settlement, Myra,  steps forth, this town being ungoverned in the usual sense, and introduces herself to the men. You watch as one of them steps forward to greet her, Myra’s head held high. The soldier has armor slightly different from the others, with fabric at his hips and broad armored shoulders. 

“What do you think they’re saying? Do you think he’s cute under that helmet? If he is, that means they all are!” Aby asks, ever twittering in your ear. 

Your best friend has been ecstatic ever since she heard there were men, new, real live men coming to this town. Being such a small settlement, she’d run through all the eligible bachelors years ago, and her hunger far surpasses your own when it came to relationships. 

You bat her arm. She shrugs and says, “What? They’re clones right? I’m just hoping they’re all handsome.” 

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. “They’re here to protect us, Aby. Not romance us. They probably won’t be here long enough for you to charm one anyway.” You giggle and she sticks her tongue out at you.

 Then you hear your name called over the din of the rain. Myra, waving you over. 

You jog out into the rain, Aby on your heels. Immediately the rain soaks you to your bones, and you do your best not to shiver as you step up to Myra and the mystery soldier. 

“This is Captain Rex.” Myra says, beckoning you closer. You thrust out your hand and shout your name over a rumble of thunder. He takes it with a tilt of his head and gives you a firm shake.

 “Will you show him and a few of his men to the community hall? Start a fire for them.” She says, and you nod waving the captain over. He turns around and nods at a few of his men, who trot out to him as the lot of you make your way to the hall. 

At the hall you wipe your muddy feet on the rug at the entrance and then knock off your boots when inside, hopefully avoiding a mud-massacre in the large open space. Aby, your shadow, does the same, and the men take their cues from the two of you. 

You flick on the lights. “It’s not what you’re used to I’m sure, but it’s dry and the roof mostly holds when it rains like this.” You say, strolling to the middle of the massive room. 

The community hall was truly just a large open room, a stage on one end, kitchen on the other with some freshers tucked in a corner. Large windows grace the space with ample daylight, though today they just cast a grey glow over the pale walls. 

“This will do nicely, thank you.” The captain, Rex, says, and you turn to face him. He and the two men behind him seem to lift their helmets in synchronicity. You practically feel Aby stiffen beside you as they reveal their faces. 

All bearing golden brown skin, and deep brown eyes, that seems to be where the similarities of these clones stop. Rex, his hair cropped short and blonde is in sharp contrast to the two men behind him with dark hair. 

Same face, different bodies, and entirely different energies. You’ve always been sensitive to energies, and what you feel coming from these men is borderline overwhelming.

 Rex gives off an air of duty, he commands the room and your attention. 

The one to the left of him, with the curve of blue on his helmet, now tucked under his arm, he seems to be careful, ever watchful. 

Then there’s the third. He’s… electric. There’s a spark in his eyes that lights the small corner of the room, and his smirk when he catches you looking leaves your stomach turning. Aby clenches your arm from where she stands next to you. 

“I’ll… get a fire started.” You mumble and leave them there to explore the space. You hear Aby’s voice pipe up in her quick, highpitched cadence, and you shake your head slightly as you laugh under your breath. She’s chatting them up already. 

Picking up some wood from a pile beside the hearth you stack the wood and strike a long match from the cup on the mantle. 

“Fire. I haven’t seen a real fire in… well ever.” A voice comes from behind you. 

You turn and it's… him, the electric one. You smile up at him as you stoke the fire. 

“Tradition on this planet. We have electricity, heating, so on. But a fire brings us together. Makes a place home. Hopefully this can feel like home for you while you’re here.” You say, standing. 

You put out your hand, just like you had for the captain, and introduce yourself. He takes your hand with a smile, bright and dazzling. 

“Fives,” he says, voice low and even, rumbling like the thunder outside. It vibrates in your chest, steady and warm. “Thanks for making this place cozy. Not often we get a literal warm welcome.”

He sinks down in front of the hearth, boots planted wide, elbows resting on his knees as he stretches his hands toward the fire. The light from the flames flickers against his armor, dancing over the white and blue plates until they glow like molten steel. That’s when you notice it, the small black 5 inked neatly at his temple. His name, carved right into his skin. 

You find yourself smiling. “So that’s what they call you?” you ask, nodding toward the tattoo as you lower yourself beside him. The wood floor creaks beneath your weight. “Fives?”

“Yeah.” He smirks, tilting his head just slightly toward you. “Better than just a number. CT-5555. I’m lucky, the name came naturally.”

The word ‘lucky’ sits strangely in your chest. You poke at the fire instead of responding, nudging a log into place until sparks leap up the chimney. Around you, the rest of his platoon filters in, dripping armor leaving small puddles on the floor. A few of your neighbors move among them, showing where the cots and crates have been laid out, the quiet rhythm of people working together despite the storm.

“You’ve been all over the galaxy, right?” you ask after a moment, glancing sideways at him.

Fives hums, leaning back on his palms. “Oh, sure.” His tone is casual, but his eyes go distant for a second, like he’s seeing something far away. “My home planet, if you can call it that, was rainier than this. Rained every day.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Sounds miserable.”

He laughs, a short, warm sound that cuts through the patter of rain against the windows. “Yeah, you’d think so. But you get used to it.”

You rest your chin on your knees, studying him in the firelight. “What’s your favorite planet you’ve been to?”

He crosses his arms, eyes flicking up to the ceiling as he thinks. The gesture pulls his shoulders tight, armor plates catching the orange glow. His mouth twists slightly, like he’s tasting the question. Then he smiles.

“Coruscant,” he says finally. “It’s home, really. That’s where we go between missions. It’s a city planet. The  whole thing’s covered in lights and noise and people. You can find anything there. Caf shops that never close, hangars filled with ships from every system. It never sleeps. I love that.”

The way he talks about it makes you see it, somehow. Those bright towers stretching up into forever, crowded streets buzzing with life. You can almost hear it, the hum.

“What about you?” he asks, turning his head toward you.

You blink, caught off guard by the earnestness in his tone. “Me?”

“Yeah. Your favorite planet.”

You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you. “I’ve never left Appla.”

He stares at you, eyes widening just slightly. “Never?”

You shake your head, smiling at the disbelief on his face. “Never. Born here. Grew up here. Guess I just never had a reason to leave.”

Fives studies you for a moment longer, and the humor in his expression fades into something gentler. “Huh.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees again, gaze flicking to the fire. “Can’t imagine staying in one place that long. But that’s war for you. It’d be nice. To belong somewhere enough that you don’t have to keep moving. But you really should go out, you know, see the galaxy. There’s alot more than rain and mountains out there.”

Then, in the distance, the town’s bells begin to toll a soft, low sound rolling over the hills. You rise, brushing off your hands. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll bring some extra blankets for you and your men later. Thanks for chatting.”

He looks up at you, that easy grin returning. “See you later.”

You nod, trying not to smile too widely as you turn toward the door. The hall’s light spills behind you, warm and golden against the rain, and even as the storm swallows you whole, you can still feel the echo of his voice. You’ve never met soldiers before him, the others. They seem so… human. Kind. Not at all like you pictured them to be. 

You like that.

—

The storm finally breaks by morning. When you step outside, the air smells clean, like something made anew. Puddles glitter in the red clay streets, and children splash through them while their parents sweep water out of doorways. The sky is still a dull gray, but for the first time in days, there’s a promise of sun pushing through.

You spot them before you hear them. The clones move in pairs through the settlement, white armor dulled with mud and water streaks. They’ve been in the community hall since dawn, heads bent over datapads and holomaps as they plotted whatever mission brought them here. Now, with the afternoon stretching quiet and the villagers returning to their routines, they’ve come out to help.

Rex is talking with Myra near the mining lift, hands clasped behind his back as he listens, serious as ever. A few of the men haul sandbags toward the southern ridge where the runoff from the canyons threatens to flood the lower homes. Others patch rooftops or help unload shipments of food from the freighter that arrived that morning.

And then there’s Fives.

You find him by the well, sleeves rolled up, helping a group of teenagers haul a heavy water pump back into place. His armor plates are stripped off, left in a pile beside the wall, leaving just the black underlayer that clings to his frame. His forearms flex with the effort, muscles tensing as he braces the weight.

“Careful, that’s been half-rusted since before I was born,” you call, walking up with a crate of ration bars for the men.

He glances over his shoulder, grinning when he sees you. “Good morning to you too.”

“It’s past noon,” you tease.

“Morning for soldiers,” he counters easily, wiping sweat and rain from his brow. “We’ve been planning all day. Needed to stretch the legs before we turned into statues.”

You set the crate on the edge of the well. “Well, if you’re feeling energetic, I could use some help in the kitchen. The town’s putting together lunch for your squad.”

His eyes light up, and you know instantly he’s going to say yes. “Lead the way.”

The two of you make your way into the community hall kitchen where boxes of ingredients line the counters and the cabinets hang open. You hear a sudden rattling of metal and someone curses. 

“Thank the stars you’re here. You know I hate cooking duty.” Aby says, wiping flour off her shirt as she rounds the corner, stopping abruptly when she sees you… and Fives. 

“Oh. You found someone to cover my shift, great!” She says, scooping you into a hug as she skips away. 

“Hey wait!” You call but she’s already gone, leaving you with a wink as she trots out the door. 

You roll your eyes and sigh. “She really does hate cooking. It’s not about you, I promise.”

Fives smirks. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You gesture for him to follow as you push open the swinging door to the kitchen. The smell hits first: earthy and sharp, half raw vegetables and half burnt oil. Steam curls lazily from a pot on the stove, and Aby’s already managed to scatter flour across half the counter.

“Looks like she was starting on…” you pause, surveying the chaos. “Claybread and vegetable soup.”

He leans in beside you, resting his forearms on the counter, studying the mess like it’s a battlefield. “Claybread?”

You grin. “Local recipe. A bread made of local produce called claycorn. You fry it on a griddle and hope it doesn’t fall apart.

You look around before you see where she left off, vegetables half chopped on the counter in the corner. 

“How’s your chopping skills?”

He straightens, glancing between the cutting board and you with visible hesitation. “I’ve never cooked before.”

You blink. “Ever?”

“Hey,” he says defensively, holding up his hands, “I’m a soldier, not a chef.”

You cross your arms, trying to hide a smile. “So what do you eat out there, then?”

He grabs a knife and gives it an experimental spin between his fingers, clearly more comfortable with it as a weapon than a utensil. “Rations. Stuff that comes in tubes or boxes. Tastes like glue, looks worse.”

“That’s tragic,” you say, nudging him out of the way to rescue the pot from boiling over. “Alright, soldier, lesson one: real food needs love, not just heat.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Love. Got it. Do I whisper sweet nothings to it?”

You laugh despite yourself, the sound echoing softly in the warm, messy kitchen. “Just chop those roots, smart-mouth.”

He does, though it’s slow going. His slices are uneven, some too thick, some paper thin. Still, he’s careful, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. You can’t help but watch him for a moment, the furrow in his brow, the way his shoulders relax as he starts to find a rhythm.

“Not bad,” you admit when he finally looks up.

When he’s finished he makes a show of gesturing toward the pile of diced vegetables. “I’d call that a success.”

You grin and sweep the pieces into the pot with a wooden spoon. “Congratulations, you just made lunch happen.”

He smiles.

The two of you work side by side after that, falling into an easy rhythm: stirring, frying, bumping elbows when you both reach for the same ladle. Outside, you can hear the faint hum of voices and laughter drifting in from the square, the sound of soldiers and villagers blending together.

When the claybread hits the griddle, the smell of browning meal and butter fills the air. Fives leans over to sniff and grins. “Okay,” he admits, “that smells alot better than ration bars.

You look up at him, smiling. “Good. Because you’re on dish duty if it burns.”

He chuckles, low and warm. 

The two of you continue on until the other soldiers start to filter into the hall, all varying in muddiness and stripping down to their blacks. 

“I got it from here. Thank you for your help, Fives.” You say as you start to dish out the soup into bowls and hand it to the men lining up. 

“No way.” He says. “I’m seeing this through. Serving the Republic, one bowl at a time.” 

You laugh but don’t protest, and the two of you feed the literal army in front of you before grabbing your own bowls.

“I want to introduce you to my friends. Have lunch with us?” Fives asks, and you want to shy away, but he gives you these puppy-dog eyes and a lip pout when he notices your hesitation.

 You bump his shoulder with a laugh and give in, forfeiting your usual seat with Aby to walk over to a small group of soldiers in a semi circle. You recognize Rex, and the clone that was there yesterday when you opened the hall. 

The room is buzzing with chatter and the clatter of spoons against metal bowls, but the laughter from this group stands out.

Rex looks up first, his sharp gaze softening when he spots you, giving you a little nod.

You smile, ducking your head a little. 

A boisterous soldier pipes up, “There’s the chef! This soup is the best I’ve ever had. Not that I’ve had many soups, but this tops them all!”

You blush and laugh. “Just doing my part to feed our heroes.”

“She’s being modest,” Fives says, setting his bowl down beside Rex’s. “You should’ve seen her,  real commander in the kitchen. Had me chopping roots like my life depended on it.”

“Probably did,” the lone medic across from Rex quips, smirking. “I’m Kix. Nice to meet you. Thanks for the meal.”

You nod, offering a polite smile. “Glad to be of service.”

The loud one pipes up. “Hardcase! Pleasure to meet you!” And you smile brightly at him.

Next to him, the clone you recognize from the tour of the hall speaks up. “Echo,” he says. His tone is quieter, but there’s a warmth there. “Appreciate the soup. Better than anything we’ve had in weeks.”

“Thanks,” you reply, glancing at Fives. “Guess we make a good team.”

He grins wide. 

Rex rolls his eyes, but there’s a trace of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Don’t encourage him. His head’s big enough as it is.”

Fives points his spoon at Rex. “You say that now, but when you’re asking for seconds…” He winks at his captain.

You settle onto the bench between Fives and Echo, the wood creaking beneath you. It’s strange, being surrounded by armor and identical faces, but they each carry themselves so differently that the sameness fades almost immediately. The conversation flows easily and you relax into the banter.

At one point, Fives leans in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. “See, they’re not so bad.” he says, voice low enough for only you to hear.

You glance up at him, smiling despite yourself. “Yeah.”

Rex catches the exchange and gives a small, knowing shake of his head before turning the talk back to the next day’s patrol.

Kix speaks up then, pointing his spoon at you. “So. What’s your story.”

You look at him confused. “Story?”

He nods. “Everyone’s got one. What makes you tick, how do you spend your days out here in the middle of nowhere?”

You shrug. “I do a little of everything. We all do. Though I was training to be the town doctor, until our doctor… left. Suddenly. Now I just do what I can with what I know. We don’t have anyone with more medical knowledge than my handful, so I make do.”

Kix grins. “Now that, I like. I’m the squad medic. Let’s say tomorrow you show me what you know, and I can fill in some blanks. How’s that sound?”

Your eyes widen. “You mean it? That would be so helpful.”

He nods. “For sure. Meet you in the morning after we get our briefings done.”

You smile and then Fives pipes up. “She’s never left this planet. Can you believe that? We’ve all seen so many. What’s everyone’s favorite?”

The crowd laughs and passes stories around like candy, sweetness filling the air and leaving you laughing and smiling. Every planet they describe seems more and more magical, and an ache in your chest blossoms for places you’ve never seen. 

Lunch winds down and all around you the men stand, stacking dishes and piling them on the counter near the kitchen before making their way back out to the courtyard. 

“Well gentlemen, this has been nice, but duty calls.” You stand and stretch, then collect their empty bowls. 

They all stand and give you words of appreciation for the meal and cleaning up.

Suddenly the bowls piled in your hands are taken from your grasp and carted off, Fives’ arms full as he tosses you a smile over his shoulder. 

“What do you think you’re doing, soldier?” You call, pivoting to wiping down the table. 

“Dishes! That’s part of kitchen duty, isn’t it?” He shouts across the room. You shake your head and follow him into the kitchen. 

“No, you’ve done enough. Go be with the others, I got this.” You say as you take a dish from his now soapy hands. He snatches it right back. “Ah, ah. No. I’m helping.” You roll your eyes, but slide next to him at the sink and start washing too. 

“Tell me more about other planets.” You say as you scrub and dry, and Fives sighs. 

“Well let’s see… There’s Felucia,” Fives begins, leaning against the counter as he rinses a plate. “Jungle planet, huge mushrooms everywhere. Bright colors everywhere, kind of like someone spilled a rainbow all over the place. Very… alive. Dangerous too, if you’re not careful. Predators, poisonous plants, the whole package.”

You shake your head. “Not on my bucket list. Next.”

Fives shrugs, grabbing another dish. “Every planet’s got its charm. Even the rough ones like Umbara.” His tone softens a bit. “Dark, dangerous… but the soldiers there taught me a lot. You get attached to places when they test you.”

You nod, feeling the weight behind his words without needing him to elaborate. “You’ve all seen so much,” you say quietly.

He glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And I’m not done yet.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, scrubbing, rinsing, and drying together. Between the steam and the soft clatter of dishes, there’s a sense of normalcy, an unexpected peace amidst everything else.

Finally, you set the last plate on the drying rack. “All done,” you say, brushing your hands together.

Fives wipes his hands too and looks at you, grin bright. “Great teamwork.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s warmth in your smile.

Just then the door swings open and a clone, Echo, walks in. “Fives, we have a quick briefing if you can make it. Some things are shifting, need to be ready.” Fives’ demeanor immediately changes, the friendly, casual energy gone and replaced by seriousness. 

“See you later.” he calls to you as he leaves the room, following Echo into the main hall. You take your cue and leave out of the back door so as not to disturb the meeting happening in the other room. 

“There you are!” Aby nearly squeals as she sees you, and grabs you by the hand, leading you away. 

“I need you to tell me everything! What’s his name… Fives. Tell me all about him. Is he nice? Is he funny? Is he single?”

You laugh at her as the two of you sit at your kitchen table, having slipped into the cottage you share and kicked off your boots. 

“He’s… nice.” You say and she nearly swoons. 

“I met one. Kix. He’s so, well, serious! But not in a bad way. He helped out today while I… supervised.” Aby’s smile could melt a moon. 

“Well go on, tell me all about him.” You say and she launches into stories of his conversations with her. While she talks you think back to your day, and Fives. He really is nice, so nice. And funny. You could see yourself becoming fast friends with him, and you secretly hope that he’s around long enough for that to happen. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur with the men in meetings and briefings that you arent privy to. You curl into your bed that night a little exhausted and sleep soundly, dreaming of soups and soldiers. 

—

Days pass with these small, little changes that warm your heart. The soldiers, while waiting for new orders or to protect the valley from some forewarned attack, have made a habit of helping out around the village, which now is in better shape than it has been in years. 

Fives has helped you with cooking duty every day for the week they’ve been here, and the closer you’ve gotten, the more you are sad to know that soon he will leave, and you’ll be left here on this rock for the rest of your life. His life in the GAR isn’t fun, its war and fighting and loss, but it is glorious. It’s seeing the galaxy, and the more he talks about it, the more you crave it. 

You’ve been meeting with Kix every morning to go over some simple medic training, tools and tricks that will aid the village for years to come. This morning however, he didn’t show in your usual meeting place. You notice the whole of the village is too quiet for what is normally a busy morning. So you go looking. 

By the time you reach the edge of the settlement, you can hear it, shouting, laughter, the unmistakable sounds of competition. You follow the noise down toward the open field behind the village, where a mess of white armor, mud, and chaos collides in disarray.

“Is that…” you start, but Aby’s suddenly running up to you, by your side, and cuts you off.

“They’re playing!” she exclaims, eyes wide and delighted.

And they are. The clones have carved out makeshift goalposts from two fallen fence beams, and a mud-slick sphere that looks suspiciously like a repurposed supply container hurtles through the air. Every soldier on the field is drenched, streaked with red clay and rainwater. It’s less a game and more a battlefield with rules that no one seems to follow.

“It’s some strange game, I’ve never seen anything like it!” Aby says, smile cracking her face in half, nearly. 

You watch as Fives comes barreling through a wall of mud-smeared bodies, yelling something that sounds like a war cry. He’s covered head to toe, unrecognizable except for the flash of his grin and the faint black 5 gleaming through the mess. Your heart does a leap at the sight of him, determination on his face. Your face heats. 

“Come on, Fives!” you shout before you can stop yourself, cupping your hands around your mouth.

He glances up mid-sprint, just long enough to flash you a dazzling grin before a streak of black, Echo, slams into him from the side. Both of them hit the mud with a satisfying splat. The entire field erupts in laughter.

“Oh, that’s going to bruise,” Aby says through giggles, and you join in.

Rex stands on the sidelines, arms crossed, pretending not to enjoy himself. But even from here, you can see the faint smirk tugging at his mouth as he calls, “That’s a foul, Fives!”

“Was not!” Fives shouts back, scrambling to his feet and slipping halfway through it. “Echo tackled me!”

“That’s called defense!” Echo retorts, wiping mud from his face.

“Looked more like a hug to me,” Kix adds, and Hardcase bursts out laughing so hard he nearly drops the ball.

You and Aby cheer as Fives takes off again, this time diving through the muck to grab the ball just as it hits the goal line. He raises it above his head triumphantly, a champion crowned in mud and chaos.

He turns toward you immediately, smirking as he cups his hands around his mouth. “Did you see that?”

You clap and whistle, laughing. “I saw you fall… twice.”

“Style points!” he yells back, and Hardcase slaps him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over again.

“Alright, troops,” Rex calls, raising his voice over the laughter. “One more round! Then you’re all cleaning the hall before dinner!”

A chorus of groans rises up, but no one leaves the field. You settle yourself on a dry patch of fence and watch them, elbows resting on your knees. They move like brothers, all pushes and shoves. Every shout, every slide, every burst of laughter feels alive.

In the short time they’ve been here you’ve learned one thing about these soldiers, these clones. They’re just as human as you. They love, they feel, they play. 

They live.

Aby elbows you gently. “You’re smiling.”

You don’t even try to hide it. “They’re ridiculous.”

She grins. “You mean he’s ridiculous.”

You nudge her back. “Shut up.”

You do look at him though. Fives. Your quick friendship makes your heart flutter when you see him. You’ve told Aby, multiple times, that it’s not like that. You’re just friends. But something inside you wishes you could be even closer… friends. 

The game ends with a spectacular finish: Hardcase flings the ball wildly toward the goal, it ricochets off Kix’s helmet, and somehow Fives dives through the air, full stretch, to catch it before it hits the ground. The clones explode in cheers and jeers alike, and Fives sits up, utterly caked in red clay, grinning like a fool.

“That’s my boy!” Hardcase shouts, hauling him up by the arm.

Fives immediately scans the sideline, eyes landing on you. “Told you when I first met you, we make a good team!” he shouts, pointing your way.

You raise your hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Didn’t need to,” he says, still grinning. “You’re good luck.”

That shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it does, but it does anyway.

The game dissolves into laughter and roughhousing, soldiers chasing each other across the mud, splattering anyone within range, including Aby, who yelps and ducks behind you. When Fives jogs over, dripping and streaked in clay, you’re already shaking your head.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn, backing up.

He stops a few feet away, feigning innocence. “What? I was just coming to say hello.”

“You’re filthy.”

He takes a deliberate step forward, the grin on his face full of mischief.

“Fives…”

He lunges.

You shriek and take off running, boots slipping in the mud, laughter tearing through your chest as he gives chase. The clones cheer him on like it’s a mission. “Get her, Fives!” someone calls.

He catches you easily, of course he does, and you squeal as he spins you once, leaving a perfect handprint of mud across your shoulder before setting you down.

“There,” he says, grinning ear to ear. “Now you match.”

You glare at him through your laughter, swiping a smear of clay from your sleeve and flicking it at his face. 

He laughs, wiping it away with his wrist. “Alright, truce. For now.”

Aby’s still howling with laughter behind you as Rex calls the end of the game, ordering everyone to rinse off before tracking more mud into the hall. Fives lingers a second longer, his eyes catching yours, bright and alive even beneath all the grime.

“Come cheer for us again sometime,” he says, softer now.

“Only if you promise not to tackle me again,” you tease.

He chuckles, backing away toward the others. “No promises.”

As he disappears into the crowd of laughing soldiers, you find yourself still smiling, muddy and breathless.

Rex walks over to you, seemingly the only clone not bathed in red clay, and keeps a short distance away from the mess that is you. 

“Hey. I have a favor to ask. Myra says you know these mountains really well. We’re gathering a team of four to go do a recon mission in the morning in the hills. Would you lead a soldier on a hike? I have three other volunteers and just need one more.”

You smile and nod. “Lead a hike? Sure. I love hiking.” 

He nods at you and turns, immediately pulling out his datapad. You notice his face shift, the fun from moments ago slipping as he looks at the numbers on the screen. Something darker, more serious shadows him. You try not to let yourself worry. 

Hours later at dinner you cant help but notice that Fives does’t show up for cooking duty. You busy yourself with the work, more now that it’s just you alone, and work to make fried tipyip for the men, no doubt hungry from the game earlier and helping out around the village after. 

You’re just finishing up and getting ready to start plating for the men lining up when he skids into the kitchen, sliding directly into the cabinets, rattling them. 

“I’m here! I’m here.” He gasps, breathless, as if he ran the whole way. You notice he isn’t in his blacks, but rather a full kit sans helmet. You screw your face up at him. “Why are you so dressed up?” 

He looks down and away, his eyes turning slightly stony. “We got some reports of movement in the mountains. Rex wants us ready for an attack at any moment.” 

You drop the ladle in your hand, heart stuttering.

Suddenly his hand is on your arm, the other on your shoulder. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s nothing, I promise. There could be attack away from the village, Rex is just cautious. You’re safe, I swear it.” 

The warmth of his hands seeps into you and warms your heart frozen in fear. You swallow hard. “Sorry. I just… I guess I forgot why you guys were actually here.”

He smiles gently at you. “Here. Let me help plate up.” He takes the ladle from the floor and tosses it in the sink, then grabs a fresh one to help dish out the meal. 

You move robotically, mind racing. An attack. A real attack on the village. You’ve never even seen a battle droid. Surely if they were that close to attacking, you’d know. Then again, you are leading that recon mission hike tomorrow. Maybe they need to map the terrain for an imminent threat. 

“Hey.” Fives says softly. You startle again and look up at him. 

“I got you a plate. Let’s go eat, yeah?” 

You follow him out and sit amongst his brothers. You’re silent as you eat, the cacophony of the hall bleeding into a dull hum. You look at all these men, the men who over the course of a little over a week have become friends with you, with the whole village. If an attack happens, some of them might not walk away. Some of the villagers might not. 

You might not. 

There’s a heaviness on your knee then, and you turn to see Fives, looking at you as he smiles at his brothers. His hand rests on your leg, warm and weighty and it calms you. 

Fives wouldn’t let anything happen to you, to Aby, to your friends and the families living here.

 Rex wouldn’t, his steadiness a comfort as he sits across the table.

 Even Echo and Kix and Hardcase, their presence reminds you that this is what they trained for. They know what they’re doing. You’ll be safe. This will be fine. 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the restless energy buzzing in your chest, and work to focus on the conversation at the table. Immediately, you’re intrigued. 

“…and I kissed her anyway!” Hardcase crows, finishing his story with a triumphant slap of his palm against the table. The other clones groan in unison.

Jesse groans the loudest. “Hardcase, you’ve kissed every bartender in Coruscant. We get it.”

Fives chuckles. “Yeah, leave a few standing for the rest of us, huh?”

The table bursts into laughter again, and Fives shoots you a grin like you’re in on the joke. You shake your head, amused, until Hardcase fires back with a grin that says he’s not letting it go.

“Please, Fives. You’ve broken more hearts than I’ve broken rules.”

The laughter doubles, but you blink in surprise, glancing at Fives. He just rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, and doesn’t deny it.

Something about it catches you off guard, you hadn’t pictured him like that. But then again, you’ve only known him a week. A few days of jokes, late-night mess hall conversations, don’t exactly give you the full picture of a man.

Still, the idea of him charming his way across entire sectors makes you laugh softly to yourself. It fits him, somehow.

“Wow,” you say, light and teasing. “I had no idea I was sitting next to a galactic celebrity.”

Fives chuckles, tilting his head toward you. “Celebrity, huh? I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease back, nudging him with your elbow. “Sounds like I should be asking for an autograph before the fans show up.”

That earns another round of laughter from the table. Even Fives laughs, shaking his head.

Hardcase grins. “If Fives ever settles down, the whole galaxy’ll throw a parade. Even the droids won’t believe it.”

“Now that’s probably true,” you say, smirking. “He doesn’t exactly seem like the type.”

Fives raises an eyebrow, mock-offended. “The type?”

You shrug. “You know. You’re… Charming. Talks fast. Probably forgets half the things he promises. Settling down is the opposite of that.”

“Harsh,” he says, but he’s laughing. “And here I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” you say easily, smiling over the rim of your drink. “That’s why I can say it.”

He laughs, genuine this time, and the tension, if there ever was any, melts right back into warmth.

You tell yourself it’s silly to think too much about it. You’ve only known Fives a week, but it already feels like longer. You click with him in a way that surprises you: the kind of person who’s easy to talk to, easy to trust. Someone who makes long days feel a little shorter.

The group starts another round of stories, laughter rising again. Fives leans closer to make a joke, and you bump your shoulder against his, grinning.

Whatever he used to be or whoever he’s been with before doesn’t matter. 

You’re just friends. And honestly, you’re glad for that. You have the feeling it’s going to be a good friendship. One worth keeping.

—

You lace up your boots at the base of the mountain trail, the soles already muddied and slightly slick from the trek up to this point. The morning mist shrouds you and the three other villagers as you wait for Captain Rex and his small troop of men to join you for the hike. 

You spot them coming over the ridgeline, fully dressed in armor and helmeted. 

They also carry blasters, which is new to you. Worry presses in on you like a landslide. What intel had they gotten that they felt the need to arm themselves now?

“Good morning, all.” Rex says as the troop stops. You recognize all three of the other soldiers: Kix, Echo and Fives. You’d learned over the past few days that Echo and Fives are something called an “ARC trooper” meaning they have a higher ranking than others, and are selected for more specialized missions often.

“Everyone find a partner. Each trooper has a set route to take, but those who live here, please be sure to take whichever route gets us to the destinations quickest. You know this planet far better than we do.”

Fives starts to make his way over to you when Rex stops him and redirects him to be with Myra. You can’t see his face from his helmet, but he gestures at Rex, seemingly frustrated. 

Kix walks over and bumps your shoulder with his own.The morning air is cool and sharp, carrying the faint scent of wet earth after last night’s storm. Around you, the squad is checking gear and finalizing coordinates before splitting into teams.

“Ready for a little uphill torture?” Kix asks.

You grin. “I’m assuming that’s medic-speak for ‘light cardio.’”

He chuckles. “Something like that.”

You’ve grown comfortable with him over the past few weeks. Kix had taken the time to teach you a few basic medical skills, nothing major, just enough to be useful in the field. His patient, steady nature makes him one of the easier clones to talk to. If you had to hike a few klicks through thick forest and mud, you were glad it was with him.

Still, as you tighten the straps on your pack, a small part of you can’t help but glance toward where Fives is standing with Myra, gesturing animatedly as he talks. You don’t even realize you’re smiling until Kix catches it.

“Don’t worry,” he says dryly, following your gaze. “He’s gonna talk her ear off the whole way up there.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah at this point I’m used to him filling the silence, I guess. He makes even the dull jobs entertaining.”

“That’s one word for it,” Kix says, smirking. “Entertaining. Loud. Occasionally insubordinate.”

“Charming,” you add with a mock sigh.

He snorts. “That too.”

The two of you start up the narrow trail that winds into the hills, your boots crunching over damp leaves. It’s not exactly a stroll, branches litter the ground, and a few fallen trees force you to climb or detour. The air is heavy, thick with humidity, and your pack digs into your shoulders, but it’s a steady rhythm you can keep.

You find yourself talking easily with Kix as you hike, the conversation meandering the way it does when there’s no rush.

“So…” you say, stepping over a slick root. “Hardcase mentioned the other night that Fives has… a bit of a reputation.”

Kix groans softly, rubbing a gloved hand over his face. “Oh, that story.”

“I mean, I wasn’t shocked,” you admit quickly. “He’s got that… thing about him. But he’s been nothing but decent with me.”

“He is,” Kix says, glancing over at you. “Don’t let the stories fool you. Fives talks big, flirts big, and yeah, he’s had his share of bad decisions. But when it counts? He’s solid. Loyal to the core. He’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.”

You nod, thinking of how he always seems to check in on everyone. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I’ve noticed that.”

Kix smiles faintly. “He’s a good guy. One of the best. Just… doesn’t always make it easy to see.”

You grin. “So what you’re saying is he’s a good soldier with terrible PR.”

Kix chuckles. “Exactly. Don’t tell him I said that, though. His ego would double in size. He’s just unlucky with women I guess.”

The path steepens, and conversation slows for a while. The forest grows denser, sunlight filtering through thick branches overhead. The air hums faintly with insects and the distant rumble of thunder, though the storm seems to be moving away.

After a few minutes, Kix checks his comm and frowns. “Lost signal,” he mutters. “Figures.”

You shrug. “Not surprised. Appla’s basically allergic to technology. I’ve never even owned a comm.”

“Really?”

“Not much use for one where I’m from,” you say, stepping carefully over a fallen log. “If you can’t yell loud enough for someone to hear you, they probably don’t want to talk to you anyway.”

Kix laughs at that, and the sound echoes lightly through the trees.

You glance back down the trail, where the rest of the squad has already disappeared behind the ridge. “So… what about you? You’ve known Fives the longest, right?”

Kix nods. “Since Kamino. We’ve been through a lot together.” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “He’s a pain in my ass sometimes, but he means well. Always has. And if you’re friends with him?” He glances at you with that calm, steady look of his. “You’re in good company.”

You smile, genuinely this time. “Good. I think I’ll keep him around, then.”

Kix smirks. “Good luck getting rid of him now.”

You both laugh, and the forest swallows the sound, the trail stretching out ahead. The air is thick, the climb steady, but the company makes it bearable.

You finally make your way to the Point and from here you can see the whole valley. You admire the view as Kix takes in information on his datapad. You stay there for a few moments until Kix snaps the datapad off and tucks it away. 

“Alright, let’s head bac…” Kix starts, but the words are swallowed by a low, guttural groan from the earth beneath your boots.

The ground trembles. First a shiver, then a full-body lurch that nearly knocks you off your feet. Pebbles tumble down the ridge, and the trees around you creak and sway.

Kix throws an arm out instinctively, steadying you. “Do you have earthquakes here?” he shouts over the deep rumble.

You blink, your pulse spiking. “No.”

The sound fades as suddenly as it began. For a moment, the world goes still. Too still. Then, carried on the mountain wind, a distant roar, not thunder, not shifting stone. Smoke curls upward beyond the ridge, thick and black, and your stomach drops.

“It’s the village!” you breathe, voice breaking. “Maybe a mine collapsed!” You’re already taking off down the trail when Kix’s hand closes around your arm, stopping you.

“The mines,” he says, eyes darting toward the horizon. “We didn’t think about it. Are the mines connected to any other villages? Maybe ones that were attacked?”

Your heart lurches. “Yes, most of them. The caves run all over Appla. The miners say you could walk from one side of the planet to the other underground.”

Kix curses under his breath. “That’s how they’re getting around. The droids. Come on, we have to move.”

You nod once, forcing your legs to keep up with him as you both sprint down the twisting trail. The descent feels endless, the air thick with smoke, the sound of distant blasterfire carrying faintly through the trees.

When you finally break through the last of the brush and the village comes into view, your breath catches in your throat.

Fire. Everywhere. Roofs collapsed inward, market stalls ablaze, the sky painted orange and gray. Bodies lie scattered among the wreckage: some civilian, some clone.

Kix skids to a halt beside you, his expression hardening. “Stay with me,” he orders, tossing a medpack your way. “Here, take this. Do what you can, help who you can.”

Your hands tremble as you catch it, the weight of the moment crashing over you. For a heartbeat, you’re frozen, staring at the devastation, at the flicker of firelight against the familiar shapes of your home. Then you grit your teeth and move.

Smoke fills your lungs as you follow Kix into the wreckage. You drop to your knees beside the first wounded villager you see and tear open the medpack. You don’t think. You just act.

From person to person you move, patching up who you can, and closing the eyes of those lost. 

You stand from behind a crate, only to come face to face with a massive droid, raising its blaster arm to aim directly at your heart. You close your eyes. The droid falls with a loud clang to your feet and you fall back on your heels, shocked. 

“Told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

It’s Fives, and he helps you up. You can’t help it, for just a moment, heart pounding you cling to him. 

“Aby and the others are in the community hall. It’s a makeshift medbay, well guarded. Try to get there if you ca…” 

A sudden explosion knocks you both off your feet. The crates that had blocked you from most of the battle are nothing but splinters now. As you clear your head you call for him. “Fives?” No response. 

You crawl towards his prone form and that’s when you see it. A large piece of jagged wood pierces his side, blood seeping into the ground. 

“Fives, hold on!” You shout, as you pull him with all your strength to cover. “Medic!” You shout, but no one can hear you over the fighting. 

You pull out the medpack Kix gave you and get to work. You remove the wood, possibly not the best idea but you’re panicking, and you sanitize and pack the wound. You find a bacta syringe and inject it into him, hoping it will wake him from unconsciousness. 

Nothing. 

Suddenly, in front of you lands one of those large droids, and it spots you immediately. It begins to charge towards you, and you have no choice, no moment to think. You grab Fives’ blaster and fire blindly, eyes closed as you await death. 

The droid falls. The blaster smokes. You cry. 

“Good… shot.” You hear and the tears come more readily now. “Fives!” you exclaim and you pull him into your lap, tears falling onto his face. 

He groans slightly in pain and you search the pack for anything pain relieving. The pack is nearly empty.

“Just hold on, Fives.” You say. 

You cradle him there in your lap for what feels like hours, but in reality only minutes pass. The battle dies down and an eerie quiet falls over the village. You have no idea who won, if you’re going to be rounded up and killed by droids, or if Rex and his men will come find you. 

You hear footsteps and brace yourself, holding the blaster up and curling yourself over Fives to protect him. 

“Easy there.” You hear a familiar voice, and you relax, tears coming back anew. It’s Kix, who comes and kneels by Fives and you, taking the blaster from your hand. 

“You did good. Here help me get him to the hall.”

Fives mutters something, “Shoulda seen her… a true soldier.” and then loses consciousness again. 

You and Kix half carry, half drag Fives to the community hall, and get him settled on a cot. You brief Kix on the injury, and on what you’d done for him so far. 

“Well done. There’s some more medpacks along the wall. Can you help me tend to the rest of them? You focus on villagers, I focus on the men.”

You nod and get to work. Hours pass in a blur of smoke, blood, and bandages. 

You move from one patient to the next, hands steady even as your mind spins. Aby is among the lucky ones; she’s sitting up now, her leg wrapped where the fire grazed her, eyes red from tears rather than pain.

The two of you collapse into each other for a few moments, clinging to something familiar amid the wreckage. You cry quietly together, grieving the smoke-filled homes, the people you couldn’t save, the peace that won’t come back. But there isn’t time to fall apart. You swallow it down and force yourself to stand again, to help the next person calling your name.

Then you hear another, someone shouting your name.

You spin toward the sound and see Kix struggling to hold Fives down on a cot. He’s thrashing wildly, still half out of it, eyes glassy but full of panic.

“Where is she?” he gasps, fighting against Kix’s grip.

You sprint across the room and drop to your knees beside him, grabbing his hand. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

His eyes flicker toward you, focus clearing for just a second. “You… you saved me,” he breathes, the tension draining from his body. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Kix quickly administers a sedative, and Fives’s words start to slur, his eyes fluttering shut as he sinks into sleep.

“He needs rest,” Kix says quietly, checking his pulse. “Agitation like that isn’t uncommon after a serious injury. The transports will be here in the morning, he’ll be safer once we get him back to the cruiser.”

You freeze. “The morning?” you echo, looking up sharply. “You’re leaving?”

Kix nods, wiping his hands on a towel. “We neutralized the threat. Command wants us redeployed immediately. Another system’s already in crisis.” He doesn’t sound happy about it… just tired. He gives you a small, sympathetic look before moving on to the next wounded trooper.

You stay where you are, sitting beside Fives’s cot. The room hums with quiet conversation and the occasional groan of a patient in pain. Outside, the fires have died down, but the air still smells like burnt soil and ash. You pull the blanket a little higher over Fives’s chest, watching the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

It’s strange how quickly they became part of your world. The clones. Him. It’s been such a short time, but they’ve brought something back to this place you thought was lost: hope and life. You don’t want to imagine the village after they’re gone.

Time blurs again, and before you know it, the sky outside the window has lightened from black to gray. You’re dozing in a chair beside his bed when you feel movement.

You jolt awake and turn to find him looking at you, eyes heavy-lidded, a faint smile ghosting his lips.

“Hey, you,” he murmurs, the warmth in his tone disarming you instantly.

Tears prick your eyes before you can stop them. “Hey,” you whisper back, smiling even as your throat tightens.

He reaches up and wipes your tears with the sleeve of his blacks. “None of that,” he says softly. “You’ll make me think I’m dying or something.”

You let out a shaky laugh, catching his hand in yours. “You scared me. I thought…” You can’t finish the sentence.

He squeezes your fingers weakly. “Sorry for the scare. Guess I’m harder to kill than I look.”

“You’re leaving in a few hours,” you say after a moment, voice quiet. “Is there anything I can do? Something to make it easier?”

He shakes his head, that same lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. “Nah. You’ve done more than enough.” His eyes linger on you: soft, unguarded. “Hate to leave so soon, though. Just when I made a great friend.”

Your heart stutters at the word friend. You smile. “A great friend, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice barely above a murmur, “the kind you don’t forget.”

He shifts, wincing, and you instinctively reach out to steady him as he struggles to sit up. His hand catches yours and he holds it tight.

“Promise me something,” he says, eyes finding yours with surprising clarity despite the haze of painkillers.

You nod, heart thudding. “Anything.”

He takes a shallow breath, like the words cost him effort. “Get off this rock. Go see the galaxy.” His thumb traces absentminded circles against your palm. “Girl like you, you’ve gotta get out of here. There’s so much more than clay and cooking. You’ve proved it, saving all these people… saving me.”

You can’t help but smile through the ache in your chest. His conviction feels too big for the small, broken room you’re sitting in. The way he says it like he truly believes in you makes something inside you shift.

“You can do so much more,” he finishes softly, his head starting to dip as fatigue pulls at him again.

You brush the damp curls from his forehead, and for a moment he looks peaceful, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his breathing evens out.

“Sure, Fives,” you whisper, your voice trembling with affection. “Whatever you say.”

But even as you say it, you know it isn’t just a promise to him. Something inside you stirs. The seed of an idea, of change, takes root.

He’s still asleep in the morning as the men cart him and the other injured soldiers onto the transport. 

You don’t get to say goodbye. 

—

“I can’t believe it,” Aby breathes, stars glittering in her eyes as you both step off the transport and onto Coruscant’s duracrete platform.

The city hits you all at once, all light and blurred motion. Towering spires stretch endlessly into the smog-streaked sky, their mirrored faces catching the glare of speeders that streak by in colored blurs. Holo-ads flicker and pulse from every corner, and the steady hum of engines fills the air like a heartbeat. It’s overwhelming. Dazzling.

Your stomach twists, not just from the long hyperspace flight but from the sheer enormity of it all. This place feels alive, vast in a way Appla never could be.

Coruscant.

It’s brighter, louder, and more beautiful than you’d ever imagined from the stories Fives told you.

Fives.

The thought of him lands like a jolt. What if he doesn’t remember you? Or worse, what if he’s not even alive anymore?

He’s a soldier. The odds aren’t kind to men like him.

You swallow down the unease, clutching the strap of your bag tighter as you and Aby make your way through the crowded street toward the looming structure ahead. GAR Headquarters towers above the district, its polished surface gleaming under the city’s perpetual daylight.

“This is it,” Aby says, awestruck.

Your first day on the job starts in just a few hours. You try to steady your breathing as you step through the massive entry doors, carrying everything you own in one small pack and a head full of nerves.

You tell yourself you’re here to work. To start over. But beneath that steady voice, one thought hums quietly, stubbornly.

What if you never see him again?

“Welcome. How can I help you?” A clone trooper adorned in red asks as you step through the automatic doors. The two of you introduce yourself and show him the datapad with your orders. You’d enlisted as a hospitalist for the headquarters, putting your medic skills post battle of Appla to the test.

 Aby had chosen… cafeteria worker. Cooking duty, for all time. You tried to convince her to pick something else, or moreso that she didn’t have to follow you. 

“I go where you go. Always.” She’d said. You made sure that the small sanctioned apartment the GAR had allotted for you was shared with her. 

“Right this way,” the clone says with crisp efficiency, his voice echoing against the marble walls.

He gestures for Aby to follow another officer, a tall Togruta draped in a blue administrative gown who leads her toward the mess hall. You catch her eye one last time as she disappears down the corridor, both of you smiling nervously. The two of you leave your bags piled neatly behind the front desk, to be delivered once your housing is sorted.

The clone leading you sets a steady pace through the GAR’s winding halls. The air hums faintly with the sound of passing speeders outside and distant orders being called. Everything smells faintly of antiseptic and metal polish.

You’re not sure what you expected when you signed up but walking these halls feels heavier, more real.

He stops at a sliding door labeled “Medbay”, and hands you a neatly folded set of navy scrubs.

“Get changed, ma’am. Commander wants you ready to assist in triage once you’re cleared.”

You nod, slipping into the fresher. The lights are bright, sterile. You pull on the scrubs, pin your hair back, and stare at your reflection for a heartbeat. You look… official. Like someone with purpose. You let yourself breathe it in as you step into the open room of the medbay.

Then you hear your name.

You turn, startled.

A familiar voice.

Kix is jogging toward you from across the medbay, his white armor unfastened at the collar, medpack still slung over one shoulder. His expression breaks into something you’ve never seen on him before, pure surprise, quickly followed by a grin.

“What are you doing here?” he says, before pulling you into a quick, rough hug. It’s brief, but it knocks the breath from your chest. He’s not the hugging type.

He steps back, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile.

“I enlisted,” you explain, words tumbling out in a rush. “I wanted to do something that mattered. See more than Appla. Try to help where I can.”

Kix chuckles, warmth softening his usually sharp tone. “Maker, Fives is going to lose it when he hears this.”

The name hits you like sunlight through cloud.

Fives.

That means he’s alive.

Kix pulls out his comm and starts typing, thumbs moving quickly. “Here, what’s your comm number? I’ll save it. We’ll probably work together a lot when I’m stationed here.”

“I uh… don’t have a comm. I just got here a few minutes ago.”

Kix rolls his eyes. “I forgot how behind the times you were on Appla. Ill get a comm sent to your new residence. Anyways, want to shadow me?” You nod and get to work. 

The day passes in what feels like a blink. You clean and bandage several men, sanitize tools and by the time the sunsets you’re famished. 

“You should come out to eat with us tonight, to celebrate. My treat.” Kix asks as you pack up the last of a medkit. 

“Can Aby come? She’s on planet now too.” You say, and you see his face redden. 

“She’s here? Yeah, I’d love to see her. I mean I’d love for her to come, too.” He chokes out. You laugh. 

“Meet you back here in an hour? I’ll get lost if you try to give me directions, best to just follow you.” You say and he nods. You set out into the night to meet Aby back at your new place. 

—

Coruscant feels different at night. You and Aby wait outside GAR headquarters, still in borrowed coats and half-lost in the swirl of movement around you, when Kix waves from the footpath.

“You two ready?” he calls, helmet clipped to his belt, hair still damp from a quick rinse after his shift.

“Starving,” Aby says. “Lead the way.”

He grins. “A couple of the boys are already there. Figured it’d be good to catch up.”

You trade a look with Aby. There’s only one “couple of boys” he could mean.

The diner sits tucked beneath one of the lower towers,  a civilian spot glowing in warm amber light. Inside, the air smells of spice and caf, the chatter easy and loud.

And then you see them.

Hardcase, gesturing wildly with a grin that could light the whole booth, and Echo, sitting across from him with quiet amusement, a hand wrapped around his mug. The sight hits like déjà vu, familiar but distant, like a dream half-remembered from another lifetime. Those lunches back on Appla, soup and bread. 

“Look who Kix dragged in!” Hardcase booms when he spots you, standing just enough to wave. “Didn’t think we’d ever see you two again!”

“Guess you’re stuck with us,” Aby says with a laugh as you slide into the booth beside her.

Echo nods politely, that small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

You smile, “Had to make it out to Coruscant. You all told us so much about it, and you all left before we ever got to say goodbye.”

“Didn’t have much choice,” Hardcase says, half-sheepish, half-grinning. “Orders came down fast. One day we’re patching up miners, next day we’re knee-deep in mud on Ryloth.”

Kix rolls his eyes as he slides into the seat beside you. “Don’t let him fool you. He was mostly knee-deep in his own mess.”

Aby laughs, and just like that, the tension softens.

The food comes and the conversation flows easier with each bite. They tell stories from the front lines, though the darker parts are carefully left out; you and Aby talk about your travels, the first time flying amongst the stars. 

Echo listens more than he speaks, but when he does, you hang on every word, his tone steady, thoughtful, a quiet counter to Hardcase’s constant energy. Kix acts as the anchor between them all, occasionally teasing but never cruel, his laughter softer than you remember.

It feels good. Comfortable. Like picking up threads from an old, unfinished story.

But even with the warmth around you, there’s a hollow note at the edge of it, an absence you can’t quite ignore.

Fives.

His name lingers unspoken between sentences, in the empty chair beside Echo. You can almost hear his voice, see his grin, feel the way the whole room used to bend toward his energy.

That’s when Aby notices you staring.

“So… where’s Fives?”

You give her a look, and she smirks.

Hardcase laughs. “He’s tied up. Mess he got himself into.”

“What kind of mess?” you ask, curious.

Echo snorts, a grin tugging at his lips. “He was breaking up with a girl. Let’s just say… he needed a minute before facing the world.”

Your cheeks heat slightly.

Kix shakes his head, chuckling. “Typical Fives. He can’t pin down a woman to save his life. And I think he likes it that way.”

Hardcase laughs again. “Yep. Classic Fives. Priorities in order, I guess.”

You grin, shaking your head. The casual way they talk about it makes your heart flutter, but it’s easy to laugh too. He’s still… Fives. 

Dinner winds down, conversation flowing easily. When you all step out into the city night, the hum of Coruscant surrounding you, the empty chair still tugs at your attention.

And then, 

“Hey!”

A familiar voice cuts through the noise.

You look up just in time to see Fives sprinting toward you, grin wide, arms already reaching out. Before you can react, he scoops you into a hug, lifting you slightly off the ground.

“You’re here!” he says, laughing breathlessly.

“I’m here,” you reply, laughing too. He sets you down gently, still holding your hands.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he says, eyes wide and sparkling.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d be here. Doing this. Seeing you,” you say, letting the words tumble out.

“Well,” he says, grinning and sticking his tongue out at his brothers behind him, “it’s gonna be great having you on planet. I could use a good friend around here.”

You laugh, the sound light and easy.

“But seriously.” He says. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, out there on that muddy planet. I wondered if you’d ever get off it. I worried about it, to be honest. To know you’re here now… it’s… wow.”

“Fives, you thought about me? That’s… actually romantic.” You joke and bump him with an elbow. You swear his face reddens and he bumps you back. 

“Don’t friends always think about each other?” He jokes and you smile. 

“I thought about you too.” You say, and the two of you hug once again. 

It feels so real. Borderline magical.

Friends. 

Reunited. 

---------------