#gingerwrites

“Well, I don’t see a name on it. Lemme buy you a drink.” The man cajoled, swirling his own cheap beer in his glass.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You leaned as far away as the barstool let you without tipping over. “I’m waiting for someone. And he wouldn’t like you hovering like this.”

“Is that a threat, Sweetcheeks?” The man growled, leaning even farther into your space. A cold voice snarled behind him, sending a ripple through you as you turned back to look at the newcomer.

“Yes.” Crosshair snarled, standing there in all his dusty and carbon stained, red and black armored glory as he placed himself between you and the drunk.

“That’s what you’re waiting for? A labgrown meat droid? I should take you home anyways and show you how a real man fucks.” The drunk slurred, lurching to his feet and squaring up to Crosshair. Cross didn’t budge, but you could tell he was too tired for this.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Crosshair’s voice was flat and cold, a hard promise. The drunk snarled, smashing his glass of half full beer against Crosshair’s pauldron, shattering it and sending shards everywhere. As soon as Cross was in the clear for self defense he grabbed the drunk and had him pinned on the bar.

“Care to-“

“Corascant guard is already on the way. Uh… sir.” The bartender fumbled, glancing at the bouncer for the bar. Crosshair grunted at the title. “We’ll take it from here if you want to take your girl home.” The barkeep offered. Even he could see the exhaustion in Cross’s shoulders.

“Great. Next time don’t let creeps get that close to an uncomfortable lady.” He hissed, passing the swearing drunk to a beefy looking zabrak. The greasy man took the opening and broke free, swinging wildly and connecting with Crosshair’s jaw just as he was turning away. As he did, you caught sight of a dripping red line cut into the side of his cheek just under his eye, presumably from the glass shattering.

He staggered but was quick to break the man’s nose and send him sprawling. The zabrakii bouncer got ahold of him now, pulling the drunk away.

Gingerly, you slipped your hand into Crosshair’s, getting his attention. “Let’s go home. Tonight’s a bust anyways. Unless you want to wait for the guard to get here and haul you to a hospital to patch your cheek up?” You murmured lowly, already knowing his answer and pulling towards the door before he even grunted a negative. There was a fine tremor in the very tips of his fingers as he tightened his grip on your hand.

The bar you two had planned to meet at for drinks was only a few blocks from your tiny shoebox of an apartment. Crosshair hissed and stepped away from you only a minute into your walk, shaking like a dog and sending residual splinters of glass tinkling to the ground.

“Bastard got glass in all the chinks of my armor. I’ll have to have Tech send it through a scrub cycle again.” He growled sourly. “Damn stuff got everywhere.”

“I can scrub it out when you get home. Call it a thank you for taking care of that guy.” You fumbled with the keys as he hovered behind you.

“I’m your boyfriend. That’s my fucking job.” Crosshair hissed softly, a hand finding your chin and lifting it so you met his eyes. He had taken his glove off to rid it of splinters. His hand was cool against your skin, fingers still trembling slightly in his exhaustion as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, nipping at them a little with a smug quirk of his mouth. He tasted like blood and ozone.

“My stars get a ROOM!” One of your helpful neighbors yelled from the apartment next to yours. You flipped them off without looking, dragging Cross inside and hardly even pausing the kiss.

His hand shifted from your jaw to curl protectively around your neck, the motion making you sigh into the kiss as you reach up to cup his cheek, only for him to hiss and pull away as your fingers meet the unpleasantly warm and tacky sensation of half dried blood from the cut on his cheek.

“Let’s get you out of your armor and blacks.” Your murmur, your voice slightly throatier than normal. At this close you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the rapidly darkening bruising along his jaw where he had been punched. He just grunted an affirmative as he fumbled with the catches, carefully removing each piece.

After he got all of it but his boots, there were several small shards even still that littered the floor. He took off the top of his blacks too, shaking the garment out. You gasped at the sight of bruised ribs and a row of neat stitches above his hip covered in thin medical film to keep them dry.

“It looks worse than it is.” Crosshair filled in the silence. He dropped the top of his blacks in the pile with the rest of his armor and gingerly flopped down on the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes as he sighs, tension slowly seeping out of his body as he relaxed.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, let me look at your cheek. And don’t get blood on that couch, it was my grandmother’s.” You call over your shoulder, grabbing a bag of frozen peas for his jaw and looking for the medistrips in the first-aid kit.

“Ah. So that’s why it smells like mothballs and old lady perfume.” He groused from his sprawled position.

“Har har har.” You rolled your eyes, catching his soft smile at the banter and grinning to yourself.

“I’m stealing your shower when I’m done.” He grunted, carefully sitting up and blinking as he took his arm off his eyes.

You sat on the tiny coffee/dining table in front of him, armed with a damp rag, first aid kit and your frozen vegetables. He took the peas and pressed them against his jaw, sighing at the contact as you dabbed at the bloody mess on the other side of his face.

“This is gonna sting a bit.” You warned as you doused a clean corner of the rag with hydrogen peroxide once you got the blood mostly cleaned up.

“When does it not.” Cross hissed rhetorically, his grip tightening on his knee as you cleaned the cut and made sure there was no glass embedded in his skin before carefully applying the medistrips and butterfly bandages you found. The cut wasn’t deep and you didn’t think it needed stitches, so it probably wouldn’t scar either.

“There you are. Now go shower, you smell like beer and a teen boy’s lockerroom.” You tease, helping him to his feet as he took the peas off his jaw, working it a few times to check for stiffness. Crosshair pouted at the insult but went, ducking into the small bathroom as you went through your drawers to come up with a pair of sweats and an oversized teeshirt for him to wear.

You knocked on the bathroom door before walking in, setting the clothes on the toilet glancing at Crosshair as he stood under the hot spray, rolling his neck appreciatively.

“You’re gonna send my water bill through the roof.” You tease, grabbing him a toothbrush and mint paste and passing it to him.

“That’s your fault, giving me access to the shower.” He snarked right back, sighing as he washed his hair, fingers combing through suds and silver curls. “Want to join me and make the most of it?” He offered, but you shook your head.

“Don’t think me joining will get you any cleaner. Might even do the opposite.” You wink as he rinses off again.

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged, turning the water off and motioning for a towel. You passed it to him with a fold exasperation as the two of you brushed your teeth and he got dressed, forgoing the shirt and toweling his hair off.

As you changed into nightclothes yourself and slipped into bed next to him, he seemed happy. Content. You pressed your face into the spot just above his sternum and sighed as one arm wrapped around you and the other tucked under his head, propping him slightly above you. You relaxed into the embrace, missing the words as they rumbled in his chest.

“What was that?” You mumbled sleepily, looking up at him.

“I said thank you.” He murmured right back, kissing your forehead. “And you’re out of conditioner.”

“Ass.” You accuse, snuggling closer.

“Proudly.” He agreed, a smile tugging at his lips. You were silent for a long moment and he almost thought you were asleep when you spoke up again.

“Why were you late?” You whisper into the darkness. Crosshair rumbles sleepily.

“Got jumped by vulture droids as we changed hyperspace lanes. Tech outflew them, as always.”

“And the mission?” You ask, listening to his slow heartbeat as he replies.

“Successful. Can’t say much else, unfortunately. Not sure when I leave again, before you ask.” He presses another kiss to your temple and tucks your head under his chin. “Go to sleep already, I’m tired.”

“Fine, fine.” You grumble. “Hey Cross? I love you.”

“I…” He paused, feeling stupidly off guard at the phrase even though you’ve said it a dozen times.

“I know.” You whisper, before he can doubt himself. “You don’t have to say it for me to know.”