#harsh:drabble

“I’m sorry I shot you.”

Kaden didn’t look at him, at first, then he shifted so he was facing Harsh. The former Jedi was standing in the ‘fresher naked from the waist up. His torso was bruised from his collarbone to the top of his stomach. An old scar crossed from his shoulder to his chest.

Something about Kaden changed--the playful look in his eye, the clever quirk of his brow, all but vanished as the man trained two very dark, deep eyes on Harsh.

“I missed you,” Kaden said.

What seemed like eons ago, but was only two standard years, Kaden had stood over the remains of his Jedi friend with tears in his eyes. Harsh had never seen the Jedi so serious, never heard him speak tender words about anyone or anything. The former captain’s mouth dropped open, but no words came out.

Kaden chuckled, but he couldn’t brush off the amount of sincerity he had poured into those three words. He made a move to go around Harsh and leave the ‘fresher, but Harsh stopped him with a gentle push.

“I missed you, too.”

Harsh’s hand remained flat against Kaden’s chest. The commander had cut his hair short, kept a layer of stubble on the lower half of his face. Almost unrecognizable from the Jedi he once was. Harsh reached up and laid his hand on the side of Kaden’s face, felt the roughness of his stubble on his palm. The other man’s eyes slid shut and he leaned into Harsh’s touch--hands that had pulled him out of harm’s way more than once, hands that had healed--and Kaden’s breath caught in his throat.

Harsh lowered his head and placed a kiss on the shorter man’s shoulder, his lips barely grazing the scar. As he lifted his gaze, Kaden met his lips with a kiss of his own.

“I never knew,” Harsh said breathlessly, his lips brushing against Kaden’s cheek.

“I did,” said Kaden. “Since the moment we met.”

“Really. I was just another trooper--”

“No. You were special.” Kaden said softly, as he stepped into Harsh, and he could feel the low vibrations of his voice. “I felt drawn to you, but I didn’t know how until much later. Then you saved my life, and I--don’t know how to thank you.”

Avan Kaden had always been honest, almost brutally so, but this was too much. Harsh wrapped Kaden up in his arms and held him tight.

“I didn’t think you would leave Mandalore so quickly.”

Kaden gingerly settled himself onto the sofa next to Harsh. The hit from the PEP laser had him moving like his bones were shattered. “Once I knew Jatne was safe, I figured it wasn’t worth sticking around. But you did.”

Harsh sank into the sofa with his arms folded over his stomach. “Yeah, got a contract to work for a few months. Saved a bunch of creds.” He drew a deep breath. “Then I had to find you.”

The former Jedi shifted so that he was facing Harsh. He propped up his elbow on the back of the sofa and rested his head in his hand. A sly smile crossed his face. “Because--”

“Nobody brews caf like you do,” Harsh finished for him, giving Kaden a side glance.

“You know, I never did thank you for saving me.”

“Why? I didn’t do the galaxy any favors.”

Kaden’s head dropped, and for once, he was quiet. Harsh turned his full attention to him, a question burned on the tip of his tongue.

“Thank you,” Kaden mumbled, and he curled his legs up onto the seat of the sofa.

acts of intimacy [always accepting] @captainkriffit

“We should order something.”

Harsh quirked a brow at the commando. As a rule, Harsh never ordered anything while undercover. He actually stressed out about the service, and paying, and it distracted him from the mission. The irrational fear was that they’d have to bang out, quick, and leave without paying, then there would be warrants for arrest and bounty hunters and–

“We can’t drink,” Harsh whispered.

Jaro’s eye roll could have launched him to the nearest moon. “Fine.”

I think the stick-in-the-mud is actually lodged up your arse, Harsh.

Actual words actually said to him by his actual Commander, Avan Kaden.

“We’ll do the cake,” Harsh told the service droid.

“Got a sweet tooth?”

Harsh shrugged and flicked the flimsi wrapper from his straw in Jaro’s direction. “You said we should order something, and I did. We need to stay alert, anyway, so a bit of sugar shouldn’t hurt.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Kaden’s voice was thin. The Jedi would not look at the wound as Harsh carefully peeled back the fabric of his robe. The wound started at the top of his shoulder and went across the top of his chest just past the collarbone in an arc. The burn was deep.

“I can tell by the look on your face.” Kaden sucked in air between his teeth as Harsh jabbed him with the painkiller.

“You always said you wanted a battle scar.”

The Jedi’s eyes fluttered shut, his body tensed as Harsh applied the first bacta pad. He heard the Jedi swear, and he smirked.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Harsh assured him.

“Force-damned Umbaran.” Kaden dared to look over at Harsh and regretted it, looking immediately to the other side of the small medbay where a clone commando rested. The medical droid was tending to him.

“Very un-Jedi like, sir.” Harsh finished placing the bacta pads and stood up straight, also drawing his attention to the unconscious clone.

“He’s not okay,” Kaden said quietly. He adjusted himself in the chair, wanting to place a hand on top of the wound, but Harsh slapped him away with a don’t touch.

The commando’s vitals seemed to be reading stable. RC-1788 had taken a blaster bolt shot to the side of his head, and his leg was broken. The blaster wound was only a few hours old, but the leg would have to go--in Harsh’s professional opinion. But the commando called Jatne would live.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

GAR camp was such a hike that Harsh was sure his knees were going to give out before they made it.

“A transport,” he grumbled on the private com. “That’s all we asked for.”

“Resources, Harsh. Resources.”

Harsh snorted. The two ARC troopers had been told by the High General that resources had been stretched too thin to allow for a proper evac. It took them most of the day to walk back to camp. Luckily the terrain was mostly flat and the local flora were unobtrusive.

They approached camp and passed on their proper codes to gain entrance into the perimeter. Harsh wanted so badly to remove his helmet and let his head hit a pillow.

“Sorry, sir.” The trooper stood so stiff Harsh thought he could crack him in half. “Tents are full.”

Sheres’s arm was out and hitting him the chest as he rushed forward. Harsh stopped. “Okay,” he said through gritted teeth. As much as he longed for even the thinnest cot, he wouldn’t deprive a brother of one. “Where are we supposed to go?”

The trooper motioned toward a large open tent where some troopers had already gathered for a night of roughing it. Luckily the climate on this planet was temperate, and it was the warm season, so nobody would get too cold. Sheres led the way, carving out a spot for them near the corner of the tent.

“Absolute garbage,” Harsh muttered as he took off his bucket and kama.

“Your complaining isn’t helping. Maybe keep that to a minimum.” Sheres sat down and Harsh beside him. “It’s going to be a long–” Sheres yawned. “Night.”