#also engineer!reader is here!!

“Shh!” You free a hand to clamp over his mouth, and Rex flinches at the sudden contact. Your hand is warm, no doubt from holding the datapad for too long. But he’s thankful, lest you feel the heat rising in his cheeks from your touch. “You’re gonna blow my cover. I’m on a mission.”

Rex’s voice is muffled, but his words come out clear enough. “What mission?” 

You usher him back down the hallway from where he came, dropping your arm from his face. “Can’t tell you,” you reply, gazing up at him with an intrepid grin. Even without your expression, it’s easy to see through your jest with your overtly joking tone. “It’s top secret. Goes all the way up to the top.”

Rex raises an eyebrow. That is new. It’s not often you’ll hide something from him. You’ve always been an open book around the 501st, saying it helps the boys comfortably emote after the trauma of the battlefield. You’re naturally trusting, and it encourages reciprocation without force. Even the General had noticed and enjoyed the calming presence you’d had on his men, hence your current station as head engineer of their mobile base. Good thing, too — Rex is pretty deep in his feelings for you. Has been since the moment you’d stuck out a surprisingly calloused hand and introduced yourself to him. To the benefit of everyone, his command is noticeably more effective after a late night in your private quarters or his separated bunk.

“I think I’d know if you were assigned on a mission,” he holds the door open for you as you duck inside your room. “Seeing as how I’m your C.O.”

“Is that the case?” you tuck the datapad on a bookshelf next to your bed. You turn to speak over your shoulder, obviously attempting to conceal the information you’d been recording from him. “Didn’t realize I’d be dating my boss when I got involved with you.”

Rex stumbles on his own two feet at that, and you laugh at him outwardly.

He’s still not the best with confronting the relationship between the two of you, as under wraps as it may be. After losing so many brothers to the war that birthed them, it’s hard to be vulnerable the way you ask him to be. He wants the same thing you do, but being open about how he feels is almost impossible for him.

Thank the maker you’re patient, though, and can put up with his inability to call himself your boyfriend. It doesn’t stop you from showering him in affection.

“Well, I do outrank you, even if you are a civvie tech.” Recovered from his blunder, he eases himself down on your cot, undoing the straps of his armor. “So, I could just order you to tell me what you were doing.”

A pout materializes. “You’re no fun.”

“Got me mixed up with Fives if that’s what you’re looking for.”

You sigh dramatically, plopping into your favorite sitting corner next to his feet. The stool you usually prop your feet up on is missing, though he suspects it’s in the refresher since you seem to be too short to reach the cabinet there. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Rex lets a corner of his mouth rise in a half smile. He enjoys the way you let your reactions show, exercising the full range of your emotions. You pick up the slack he leaves in that regard, and he braces as he turns, leaning his elbows on his knees as he tells you, “You do know you were holding the datapad backwards earlier, right? I clocked the screen in the hall.”

Your frown deepens, and you cross your arms at him. “Rex.”

“What’re you lookin’ up Mando’a for, anyway?”

He’d immediately recognized the script of the language on your pad. You blow a strand of hair away from your face, the remnants of your so-called mission story falling away with the conversation. “I wanted to learn it, obviously.”

Rex casts his eyes to the ceiling. “Obviously. My question was why.”

You fix him with a thoughtful stare that lasts a second longer than normal, and he extends a hand to you in your corner. When you take it, he guides you to the bed next to him, resting your legs in his lap. His fingers tap your ankle in impatient waiting. 

“Does there have to be a reason?” You flex your toes, wiggling them as you speak. “Maybe I just want to understand you better.” 

“Sweetheart, you understand us plenty. Jesse said you gave him a hell of a therapy session just last week.”

You raise a brow at him, mimicking his expression from before. “I want to understand you, Mr. Brooding-and-closed-off,” you sit up from leaning on your hands, and poke him in the shoulder pointedly. It’s true that he relies on his mother tongue much more than the rest of his brothers. He’ll sometimes unknowingly switch from Basic, to your endless confusion. “I seem to be able to help everyone but you.” You purse your lips before peering at him amusedly. “And I think you mean psychoanalysis, not a therapy session.”

Rex makes a dismissive face. “Whatever.”

You drop your gaze, absently trailing your hand down his shoulder, and he grimaces internally. He can tell you’re already used to him pushing you away. You’re visibly preparing for it, even now.

He’s really bad with words — it’s ironic, considering how efficient he can be when he assumes command. Although he’s known for thinking on his feet, that doesn’t necessarily transfer to his communication skills. He’s never had the patience for conversation like Cody, or the power to convey his thoughts with threatening glares like Wolffe.

But he is good at taking action. And he’s tired of disappointing you.

He takes your hand, squeezing it gently as he brushes his thumb across your wrist. Hopefully, his intentions are obvious enough by the way he pulls you closer and looks you straight on. “You know you can always ask me what stuff means,” he says, “instead of trying to listen to Fives’ annoying voice.”

You laugh, and his heart flips in his chest. His brain reminds him to get it together, but he allows himself to relax into your touch. “He does speak too fast for me to decipher,” you wrap an arm around his waist, almost chin to chin with him. “Though it doesn’t take a protocol droid to figure out that haar’chak is a curse word.” You imitate the foreign word with decent accuracy, Rex notes. Maybe he really could teach you.

“It is. And kaysh mirsh solus is ‘he’s an idiot’.” He pauses. “Well, it actually means ‘his brain cell is lonely’. But that’s a little wordy.”

Your eyes light up, both at his seamless transition into the language and his correct anticipation of your first question. It’s his most used phrase, especially around his brothers. Though, the sincerity and circumstance in which he uses it varies wildly.

“There’s another one similar to that,” you press on, and he drinks in your excitement. It’s awfully endearing, even to Rex. “Hardcase says it a lot. It ends with ‘kee-rah-mood’?”

“Kaysh mirsh’kyramud,” Rex grins at your attempt. “‘He’s a brain assassin’. It just means someone’s boring.” A realization dawns on him as you giggle at the literal translations. “Wait, when has he said that?”

You shrink back a little, suddenly more conscious amidst your amusement. “Um…”

He looks at you flatly. “It’s after my briefings, isn’t it.”

“Yep.”

“Or’dinii.” After a beat, you nudge him. “‘Moron’.”

Another laugh breaks past your lips, and you lean your head against him. Despite his grumbling, he tucks you under him and kisses your temple, his face dissolving into a contented expression. You’re happily indulging him with the physical contact he’s always craving, and he silently offers you the first concession he’s given since you kissed him for the first time in the hangars before battle all those months ago. Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.

“What’s that mean?”

Rex jerks up in surprise, angling his neck down to see you watching him curiously. He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud.

It’s not like him to be so out of his head, but then again, this hasn’t exactly been a regular day. He sucks in a breath, committing fully to the sentiment. He’s never made the first move with you. You’ve had to elicit every last moment from him, breaking down wall after rebuilt wall.

Not this time.

“I love you,” he murmurs, but you hear him, loud and clear. “It means I love you.”

Your eyes blaze with something he can’t get a read on, but you respond with an alarmingly straight face. “Is that what it means literally?”

Rex blinks. “Um, no. It means — ”

“I’m joking,” your facade drops immediately, and you break out into that wide, face-splitting smile he loves so damn much. “Rex, I love you.” You reach up to gather his jaw in your hands, and drag him down into a sweet kiss, and he swears he’s never felt happier. “I love you too, Rex, stars.”

Against your lips, he mumbles it again, the words glistening on his tongue. “I love you.”