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The first time Wooley finds him there, he almost trips over his boots. He yelps a little, slamming a hand against the bulkhead to steady himself, and ARC trooper Rex does look satisfyingly apologetic; he of all people should know the dangers of blocking corridors.
But of course, this one was rarely frequented, except for Wooley, and Waxer and Boil who had first brought him and Longshot here, and apparently now their ARC. Their ARC, who leans up against the corner of Wooleyâs favourite niche with a smokeless cig between his lips, knees drawn up to his chest now Wooleyâs kicked his feet for him.
âSorry,â Wooley says. He hopes Rex doesnât notice how breathless he is and clears his throat. âDidnât see you there.â
âWooley,â Rex smiles. âNothing to worry about. Want to join me?â
Wooley canât quite tear his gaze away from where itâs drawn to the movement of Rexâs mouth as he settles in beside him. The little white stick that he takes between his fingers to readjustâthe way his lips curl around it in a small, private smile.
Candy sticks, Boil calls them. Candy sticks filled with whatever the galaxy can get away with legally hooking their market on. Wooleyâs just glad they donât do the damage Waxer says they used to.
âYou want to share?â Rex asks, flicking the cig between his two fingers again and holding it out. Wooley flushes with heat, caught, and takes it from him. Their fingers brush when he hands it back. Wooley swallows, and watching him place it back between his teeth, thinks it suits Rex rather more than it does him.
(He tries not to think about how it felt when it passed between his own lips. How he could cut out the middleman and lean across this tiny gap between them. How Rex might not even object.)
âYou down here for any reason, or just to get away?â
âBoilâs arguing with Sepia Companyâs Sergeant again,â Wooley sighs. âJust wanted some quiet.â
Rex nods. âI can leave, if youâd like the place to yourself?â
Smiling, Rex lets his head tip back against the wall. He looks over at Wooley, lets his eyes trail down and back up again.
âAlways good, spending time with a friend.â
Rex drifts on the wind, or wherever the river flows. As an ARC, with his fancy pauldrons and kama and stunning frame, heâs often pulled to and fro wherever needed. But he wears his 212th gold like a badge of honour, and Ghost was where he made his name, found a home. And Wooley may be one of the shiniest of shinies, but Rex has always come back home, and always with a smile and a story and time for each and every one of them.
So Wooley catches his lip between his teeth and reaches out to touch the hand resting on the floor between them. Rexâs fingers twitch and part subtly to let Wooleyâs slip between them, body warmth mingling with durasteel cold. Thereâs a smile on both of their faces as he squeezes Wooleyâs hand. A secret, for the two of them alone.
