#foxrexfives

+ Then +

Six Months Ago

 The war is over, so it makes sense for this to happen. — Fox saw this coming. He did. He did.

He saw it coming and he tried to prepare himself but it's suddenly becoming evident to him that that's just another endeavor he failed in.

It's not like he wasn't expecting it. There's a world of a difference between mid-war hookups, and some kind of relationship in the aftermath, a world of a difference between stolen kisses on leave, and something more substantial, something out in the open.

Still, he doesn't want it. Doesn't want to hear them say it, doesn't want to have to accept reality.

What he wants has never mattered though, so he doesn't expect it to start mattering now.

+ Now +

"Hey," Fives says into the silence of the room, his voice quiet, and Rex ducks his head to hide his smile, turns to the grocery bags instead. The greeting isn't for him, but his heart thumps uncomfortably in his chest at it anyway.

It's sweet. It's domestic in a way that Rex had dreamed about during the war, but never actually seriously considered to be a possibility. It's Fives.

Fives has made his heart race for years. This isn't a new thing. Force, this is a predictable reaction for Rex, one he'd see coming from miles away.

Still. It's... nice. To say the very least.

Also predictably, Fox doesn't move. Doesn't change the pattern of his breathing either. If Fives hadn't just said hello, Rex would think Fox asleep, but Fives wouldn't risk waking Fox with a greeting, so Fives must be certain that he's awake.

"It's one in the morning," Fox finally replies, voice irritable. Rex rolls his eyes at that, reaches to put the iced cream in the freezer, and Fives laughs, a clear, joyful sound. Puts his bags down on the counter, and goes over to their bed, leaning down to kiss the lump that is Fox covered with blankets on what is presumably his head.

"Good to see you too, babe."

 + Then +

 Fives feels a little like he's been stranded, marooned. Thrown into a situation that he's not prepared for, that he can't bear, and told good luck.

They all three need to talk, that's true, but— Fox is looking back at them, and he's silent, face unreadable, hands behind his back. A parody of parade rest, a perfect soldier, unfeeling, uncaring. And suddenly all Fives can feel is fear. Regret. An overwhelming desire to create a false emergency, to do something to push this conversation off.

Fox doesn't wear the truth on his face. This isn't the truth. Fives knows it's not the truth, knows Fox better than that. But Fox has seemed off since the war ended, slowly pulling himself away from them, distancing, and— that hurts. That hurts, and he doesn't know what is going to come from this conversation, doesn't know what Fox wants. Doesn't know if Fox's freedom will involve leaving Rex and Fives behind.

They need to talk about this. Need to decide how to proceed now, now that the war is over, and the GAR is no more, now that they aren't duty bound like before. And Fives is an ARC Trooper, so he won't run. He cares about both Fox and Rex, so he won't hide.

But he feels unsteady already. More than unsteady. And he doesn't know if he'll win if he chooses to stand his ground and fight.

 + Now +

 The shriek Fives lets out when Fox yanks him onto the bed is damn near the funniest karking thing Fox has heard all day, and that's impressive, considering the fact that earlier he had a comm call with Cody who decided to show him footage of General Kenobi trying and failing to befriend the zillobeast while General Windu looked on from the side.

Fox hears a snort from outside the covers— presumably Rex— and grins to himself, adjusting his position on the bed so that he's sitting up behind 80kg of flailing ARC trooper, instead of being crushed beneath him.

"You— kriffing son of a shabuir," Fives spits out when he manages to free his head from the blankets, looking up at Fox with a glare on his face. Considering the fact that his hair is a mess, and he's still wrapped up in blankets, it's not that intimidating

"I don't think my cloning vat was kriffing anyone's buir, Trooper. Do you have evidence to back up your claim?"

"I am going to shove your evidence—"

"Actually, I don't think it's possible for cloning vats to have sexual relations at all, so I'm afraid that your accusation is based off of inaccurate intel."

Rex is full out laughing now, and Fox feels his lips inadvertently twitch up into a smile. Rex doesn't laugh often enough, and prying one out of him is no small victory.

"You're the worst," Fives complains half-heartedly, flopping his head back onto the blankets. "The worst."

"You say the kindest things," Fox replies, and he leans down to kiss the pout off of Fives' face. "You planning on joining us anytime soon, Captain?"

 + Then +

 "Fox—" Rex says, and his mouth catches on the word, on the space between Fox's name and whatever the kriff he was going to have come after that, and he breaks off, let's the word die alone in the air.

The conversation has been going in circles, none of them quite managing to say what they mean, and it's exhausting. Fives is blunt in a way that Fox can't believe, and Fox says six different things with a single word that fly over Fives' head, and they've been getting better at communicating, but— better isn't enough when emotions are fraught like they are right now. Better isn't enough when Fox is clamming up, when Fives is pushing to try and get a reaction that's not cool indifference, and Rex is left in the middle, playing code breaker for them both.

Fives and Fox have never served together, and Rex knows that's part of the problem. They're weapons, born and raised for the battlefield, and their first language is the fight, is desperation and sacrifice, tough calls and the resulting remembrances. Rex learned how Fives spoke on Rishi, cemented the knowledge in the campaigns after, and he learned how Fox spoke during their training missions as cadets, during ARC training with A-17 and Vhonte, and during the early days of the war, before Fox was the lead Commander of the Guard, and therefore chained to Coruscant.

So Rex has worked with them both, knows them as he knows everyone who he's served with, but Fives and Fox don't have that bond. Fives and Fox don't have that bond, because Fox had just become the head of the Guard when Domino joined the 501st, because the 501st rarely worked with the Guard as it was. It's Rex who pulled them together, and he'll never regret it, but it's times like this that have him acutely aware of it.

They're both trying. They're both trying, and that's a lot, and Rex is trying too, and he wants to open his mouth and say a million different words and have them be the right ones, wants to bury himself in his own arms and let himself collapse, wants to take a step forward and not have Fox take a step back. He wants, and—

For a brief moment, he kind of thinks he's going to cry.

All three of them worked so hard to get here, and with their jobs it was never going to be easy, but if Rex manages to kark it up because his mouth runs faster than his brain and he forgets to double check every word that comes out of his mouth, he'll never forgive himself.

They have to figure this out. They have to. Rex doesn't want to even consider the alternative.

 + Now +

 "I was being responsible," Rex says, and Fives can't help it, he laughs. The complaint in Rex's voice is audible, and it's a far cry from his usual demeanor. "If either of you would like to help..."

"I would, but I'm kind of trapped at the moment," Fives replies, trying and failing to wiggle out of the blanket cocoon. Fox snorts, then tries and fails to look innocent when Fives glares at him.

"Since your big, bad ARC trooper has been taken down by a fearsome quilt, I suppose I can help," Fox says, untangling himself from the sheets to walk over to Rex. His footsteps are silent, and Fives flops over so he can watch the two of them, their figures barely visible in the darkness of the night. The only reason they have any light at all is because their blackout curtains are a smidge too small for their windows, allowing some of Coruscant's night light to peek in— a mistake that Fox has been complaining about since he and Thire first got and put up the curtains, yet still hasn't fixed.

It's because of Rex, Fives is pretty sure. Umbara was dark, and Umbara was a nightmare, and he's pretty sure Zygerria got pitch black at night as well, and Fives knows that Fox has noticed Rex's reluctance to make a room completely dark. Knows that, because Fox had pulled him aside one day and asked about it, back when they were Fox-and-Rex and Rex-and-Fives, not Fox-and-Rex-and-Fives. It had been the first time Fox had acknowledged Fives outside of a purely professional setting, and considering that Fives hadn't expected the Commander to even know his name, it was a memorable experience.

He'd known that Fox and Rex weren't exclusive, but he hadn't expected Fox to actually give a damn about who Rex was hooking up with when off Coruscant. From the way Rex had described their relationship to him, Fives got the impression that while Rex might've been interested in something more, Fox definitely wasn't. That Fox was barely interested in being friends with Rex, nevermind any kind of romantic relationship.

That first interaction with Fox had forced him to reevaluate that assumption dramatically.

After all, there are things that you do for hookups, and there are things that you do for people you love, and... well, Fives has never tracked down the lovers of any of his own past hookups to ask them about how to make said hookup most comfortable.

Fives watches as the shadow that is Fox comes up behind Rex, stealing a bag from his hands, and sweeping out Rex's elbow range when Rex makes a noise of protest. "I'm helping," he says, his voice sing-song as he saunters to the fridge, and Fives laughs when Rex retaliates by taking the carton of iced cream he's holding and putting it on the back of Fox's neck, causing the latter to yelp. "Hey!"

"There are more grocery bags on the counter, you didn't have to take mine!"

 + Then +

 The fact that neither Rex nor Fives are just flat out telling him that they want him gone is infuriating.

It's infuriating, because it's hope-inducing, and Fox has spent so long trying not to hope. It's infuriating, because he can take the truth, he doesn't need them to dance around it like he's fragile, like he's going to break. It's infuriating, because if it's not infuriating then it will undo him, and Fox is barely keeping his composure as it is.

They've never been good at communicating, Rex and him, have brushed up against each other's jagged edges since they were cadets and an eight year old Kote was glaring them down as they both managed to say the wrong thing, twist their metaphorical knives with their words. But— they worked at it, kept working at it, again and again and again until they could get it right, and that has to count for something. It has to.

And Fives— Fives is a wild card, but he's always been an honest one. Fives is unpredictable, has swept him off his feet since the very first time they met, but if there's one thing that's consistent with him, it's his honesty. Fives can't lie. Fox knows this like he knows his own soul.

They're both saying words that Fox can't quite process. Words that don't make sense in the sentences that they're arranged in, that leave him all twisted up inside.

Fox can't— he doesn't want to lose this. He can, if he must, he will and he'll survive it, but the very thought of having to do that hits him like a punch in the gut. Everything is cold, and he thinks he might be shaking despite the fact that he's standing in parade rest, and—

"Fox," someone is saying, their voice anxious and worried, but firm enough to break through his spiraling thoughts. "Kriff, Fox, we're not breaking up with you."

Impossible.

"Obviously!"

"No, not obviously babe." And he can identify that voice now— Fives. Fives sounds amused, for all that Fox can see the stress in the way he holds his arms. And— and that's reassuring, in an odd way, to know that this is affecting Fives. To know that he's stressed, despite all of his bluster, all his grand declarations and passion.

Knowing why exactly he's stressed is another matter, but... cadet steps, and all.

"We're not breaking up with you," the voice that is Fives repeats, and it's something out of his wildest fantasies. Something he wants. Something he can never have.

He turns to look at Rex's jaw instead. It's infinitely safer there, because Rex's jaw is clenched, and he's not speaking, not saying words that fill his heart with warmth, and his lungs with ice.

"Alright," he makes himself say. "Alright you aren't. But. But I can go."

"I'm sorry, WHAT—"

"Fives," Rex says, cutting him off. It's not his Captain voice, but it's firm all the same, and with a grumble, Fives falls quiet. Fox can barely make himself breathe. "Do you want to go?"

No, his mind cries out. No, Force no, please don't make me. "I can go," Fox repeats, because he's not selfish. "I can go, if that's what you want—"

"What I want?" Rex demands, cutting him off. He sounds furious. He sounds hurt. Fox hates that, hates that he's the one who caused it. Wants to flee so he never can cause it again. Rex is built for better things than pain. "Fox, I— we want you. The question here is what do you want?"

The statement is gutting. The question moreover. How could Rex not know? "I want you," Fox hears himself say, "Both of you. How is that even in question?"

He forces himself to look up, to meet Rex's eyes, and it's just as uncomfortable as it's always been, a prickly burn behind his eyelids as he's laid bare but he needs Rex to understand, and discomfort is a small price to pay to keep Rex in his life.

In seconds, Rex is breaking the eye contact, looking down at their intertwined hands, making a soft noise of frustration low in his throat. "No," he says, soft but firm.

"Don't karking—"

"No," Rex interrupts, and yanks Fox forward so their heads collide in a kelebe kiss. It's just on the right side of painful, and Fox winces, feels Rex's arm slide up his, a silent apology. "Don't put yourself in pain to prove your authenticity," Rex says, and it's an order despite the fact that Fox outranks him, an order that has his chest seizing up because Rex sees him, doesn't need the eye contact, to strip him bare to understand or forgive. He sees, and he understands, and he respects Fox's boundaries even when Fox won't respect his own boundaries, and Fox shudders with the wave of emotion that washes over him, tightens his grip on Rex's hand.

He... doesn't think he can speak right now, wants to but the words are crowding his throat and he fears that if he opens his mouth, he'll choke, so he simply nods against Rex's head, allows himself to sink into his lover's touch. Fox hates feeling like this, weak and wrung out and overemotional, but he knows from experience that there's not much he can do about it.

"Stay," he hears Fives say, and Fox shudders with it. "Please. If you want to stay, stay."

 + Now +

 The fireman's carry Fox throws him into once the groceries are all away is probably the most predictable thing he's done all night.

Rex still sputters when Fox does it, because Fox is an infuriating shabuir who has mastered the art of surprise, but Fox ignores that, instead carrying him across the room to the bed just to dump him on Fives. Fives squawks, just as Rex sends Fox a disgruntled look, and Fox doesn't quite laugh, but Rex knows him well enough to know that it's a close call.

Rex reaches up to grab the front of Fox's shirt just as Fives pushes Rex off him, causing Fox to come crashing down on top of them in an undignified heap.

"Di'kut," Rex feels Fox mumble into his collarbone, and he laughs, brings up a hand to stroke the top of Fox's hair. "That goes to both of you."

"You do call us the nicest things," Fives says, and he sits up, evidently having managed to untangle himself from the blankets. "Truly. 'Di'kut' is my favorite pet name."

"Oh, great," Fox says into Rex's collarbone, not protesting the hair pets, a silent victory that Rex cherishes. "Now I have to come up with a new one."

Rex snorts, and Fives huffs, but he doesn't retaliate, just readjusts the blankets, tossing one side of one of their blankets over Fox and Rex, and crawling under it next to them, laying his head next to Fox's. The request is clear, and Rex dutifully raises his other hand to pet Fives' hairs, grins at the noise of contentment he makes in return.

"Go to sleep, you two," Rex says, and he feels Fox smile into his collarbone, feels his own heart swell when Fives curls in tighter next to him.

Rex watches the shadows move as the light from Coruscant's night changes, feels Fox's breathing even out on his shoulder, feels Fives' muscles go slack, and he lets the peace wash over him, letting it take him away, until he finally feels his own eyes flutter shut.