#oc drift

Even now that you and Alpha were dating, you knew there was no guarantee that things were going to work perfectly. Well, you were dating in not so many words, since you hadn’t felt brave enough to ask him directly. Also, calling Alpha something as seemingly insignificant as your ‘boyfriend’ had felt like a gross minimization of the feelings you had for him. You were together, and that seemed like the most valid way to describe your current state.

So, no, there was no guarantee that things were going to go smoothly for you from the start. That being said, given how intensely challenging your relationship had been up to this point, you had been hoping to stave off your first fight for longer than two days. That didn’t turn out to be the case.

It had started over, of all things, being affectionate in public.

You had been eating lunch in the cafeteria, having reclaimed your table together - though it was a lot more common for ARCs or even cadets to join you now. Alpha pretended to be irritated, but you noted every time someone said something that made him give his almost smile.

When Alpha had finished eating, you were only halfway through your meal. Since he was sitting comfortably on the side of your non-dominant hand, he reached down and took it, lacing his fingers through yours.

You were thrilled by the contact - especially contact that he had initiated. Your past relationships had been fairly one-sided where most casual touching was concerned. The fact that Alpha wanted to be in contact with you made you want to melt. You adored it, even if it was just his hand clasping yours.

Except you were in the middle of the cafeteria and your hands were on the table’s surface.

You pulled your hand away by reflex, hated yourself for a moment at the hurt look on Alpha’s face, but then rallied. You had a reason for pulling away - you hadn’t just done it on a whim or in some twisted bid to get the upper hand in your relationship with Alpha. 

“Sorry, just…” you trailed ineffectually, acutely aware of the way the ARCs were watching you and Alpha. “Can we talk about this later?”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. And for the rest of the time it took him to eat - carefully sitting away from you so that no part of him would brush up against any part of you - he stayed silent. That was the worst part, watching him pull away just when you had been making progress in your new relationship.

You honestly thought he would have left when he had finished rather than come back to your office with you, but you were still using one crutch and your movements were slower than he deemed safe. So he came with you to your office, making the slow trek and scaring away the occasional cadet. He didn’t say anything outrageous, which was probably best - the odd atmosphere meant that you wouldn’t feel comfortable berating him the way you usually did, and Alpha could get a little out of control if someone wasn’t around to remind him there were limits.

You made it to your office without a word spoken between you, which wasn’t unusual in itself. Alpha wasn’t an overly chatty person, and you were often lost in your own thoughts. The only concerning thing had been that the quiet was tense instead of comfortable.

When your door had closed behind you and Alpha had ushered you into the chair behind your desk, you stared at each other, both waiting for the other to speak first.

You decided to cut the tension. “I think we need to keep our relationship a secret.”

“Sure.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, both at how easily he had agreed and that he didn’t ask any more questions. “I’ve given this a lot of thought and I-”

“You don’t need to explain it,” Alpha interrupted. “If you want us to be a secret, we’ll be a secret.”

That certainly wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Did Alpha feel that he had no choice, no autonomy in your relationship? That was a bad thing, wildly so. “Alpha, that’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, we need to keep things under wraps, but not… I just want to tell you my reasons.”

“And I trust you,” Alpha countered. That would have warmed you, but he was avoiding your eyes. “I have to get back to the ARCs. We’re finishing up their training on battle tactics today and it’s going to be a long afternoon.”

“O- okay…” you agreed slowly. How could you really argue that? If he wanted to leave, you couldn’t keep him there. Even if you did feel like this needed a lot more conversation. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you in the mess hall.”

You frowned. Even when you were just friends, Alpha almost always met you at your office. He liked to tease that he couldn’t be sure you would show up unless he was there to force you to put away your work. Something really was wrong. You couldn’t let him leave with this hanging over both of you. 

Before you could stop him, though, he was gone.

You would have followed after him, weak leg be damned, but you caught sight of the chrono on your desk. You had a contract finalization meeting with Jaiss in ten minutes, and you couldn’t miss it unless you wanted to draw out negotiations even longer than they had been. 

With a deep sigh, you put your head down on your desk. No, nothing was easy all of the time, but it would have been nice if this relationship was the exception to that rule.

---

“Did she break up with him again?” Monnk asked, breathing slightly too quickly as he briefly came up beside Drift. 

Drift could sympathize. Like all of the troopers, the ARCs were in the best possible physical condition they could possibly be. The fancy armor they were issued would protect them, but it couldn’t help them if they couldn’t lift it. The ability to run long distances and lift large amounts of weight could easily be the difference between life and death for a trooper in the field, especially when that trooper was an ARC. 

Still, Alpha had pushed them to the ends of their abilities and further. They had been doing high-level interval training for hours… and he had told them this was just their warm-up. Monnk and Drift just happened to have caught up with each other during their sprints.

Doing his best to speak without looking like he was speaking, Drift muttered, “I don’t think so? I think he would be worse than this.”

Monnk grimaced. “Maybe, but he’s definitely pissed about something.”

“We need to find him a different outlet,” Drift said, only half joking. 

“Drift!” the captain snapped. “If you have enough air to chat, I apparently need to push things a little further.”

“Sorry, sir!” Drift called the apology, pushing his pace even faster. “I was just asking Monnk if he thought I could sneak a drink of water before my next set of push-ups.” 

Alpha didn’t immediately reply, but Drift wasn’t stupid enough to look at him. Let him think about it… think a little more… 

When Alpha gave a small sigh, keeping the triumphant grin from his face was Drift’s greatest challenge, but he managed. “Fine. Men, take a short break and hydrate. But keep it in check. Don’t think you’ll be excused if you throw up when we get started again.”

With a low, untraceable murmur of gratitude, the ARCs cut off their current exercises and went to the pile of their belongings to retrieve their canteens. Drift took a large mouthful of water from his canteen, mentally congratulating himself for thinking to attach his comlink to it before the exercises started. He sent a short written message to you. He would have called you directly, but he knew you were busy. He didn’t want to risk missing you. This way, the message would be there when you had the time to read it.

“That’s enough,” Alpha commanded. “Sprints, then sit-ups, then another set of sprints. When you’re done with that, pair off for sparring. Last one without a partner gets to spar with me.”

Drift considered himself to be a good vod. Back with the Rancor Battalion, he had taken more than one fall to set up one of his brothers for success. He was willing to go through a punishment if it meant someone else didn’t have to.

But today? Drift put his full abilities toward finishing fast enough to partner with anyone other than the captain. Someone else could take this particular fall.

---

You cut the holocall with Jaiss, internally thankful once again that Nora Czajak had contacted you… and that Alpha had forced you to respond to that comm call.

Nora had taken every complaint you had about the proposed contract and followed up on it, editing and resending the contract until you could live with all of the terms. She had even been willing to negotiate some of the things you considered whims rather than necessities.

Since you had already seen and approved of the final version of the contract, there wasn't anything more you needed to discuss with Nora or Jaiss. This meeting had been little more than a formality, but a necessary one. With those details smoothed out, you were free to start working on the report again.

You tossed the datapad onto your desk with a clatter that mirrored your frustration rather than alleviating it. You had finally received permission to keep writing the report, but all you could do was worry about Alpha. Over and over, your mind played the sight of his hurt face at your rejection. 

You had to make things right and you didn't want to wait for dinner… but would you make things better or worse if you just showed up at the ARC training area? The Kaminoans had made a big deal the first time you had gone to find Alpha while he was training, but that had been a long time ago. You were a much more common sight around there now. Maybe that would help you slip part without any suspicion? 

Before you knew it, you had passed most of the afternoon like that, worrying whether it was worse to go or stay, to push your explanation or wait for Alpha to ask questions. You were frozen in a huddle of horrified confusion, a state that only grew more intense when you received a text comm from Drift.

What's up with you and the captain? He's being a pain in everyone's shebs today. We can handle it for now, but it would make life a lot more pleasant if you'd give him a little sugar tonight. Di'kut needs it worse than anyone.

You shook your head any time you thought about the message. You had received it hours after it had been sent, but well within the time the ARCs would be exercising. Perhaps it made you a coward, but that message did play into your struggle about whether to go or stay. Did Alpha need space or was he frustrated by your silence?

You were frustrated by your silence, when it came down to it. You had thought you knew Alpha, knew him better than almost anyone. But now, when you needed that knowledge the most, you felt like there was far more you didn't know about him than what you did.

The minute your chronometer displayed the time Alpha usually finished with the ARCs for the day, you sent him a message of your own:

Hey, could we meet up before dinner? 

Your stomach was twisted in knots as soon as you sent it. To your mixed relief and concern, Alpha replied almost immediately. 

I’m coming to your office now.

You nodded once, as if affirming to yourself that it was going to be fine. You and Alpha needed to talk all of this over. It was the only way this relationship stood a chance of surviving. As things stood right now, it could end before it really had a chance to begin.

Alpha must have been well on his way from the ARC training area when he answered your message, because a heavy knock sounded on the door an incredibly short amount of time after you had known to expect him. You had been nervously pacing the space in front of the door, so you answered quickly as well, and then Alpha was in your office, eying you expectantly. 

“What did you need to tell me?” he asked, not quite making eye contact with you.

“What did you need to tell me?” you countered, watching in satisfaction when Alpha’s eyes flew to meet yours. That satisfaction faded slightly when he still didn’t speak. “Alpha, if this is going to work, we have to work together. A big part of that is communication. When something is bothering you, I need you to tell me what it is or I’ll just be trying to guess what you’re thinking, and we both know how bad I am at that.”

Alpha gave a reluctant, crooked smirk at that, clearly remembering all of the times you had misunderstood his thought process or motivations about something. The smirk disappeared entirely when he began to speak. “I… don’t like that you want to hide the fact that we’re together. You’re embarrassed of me, and- I thought I would do anything to be with you, but… I guess I have conditions. Ones I didn’t know about.”

“Good!” you insisted firmly when you could speak. Alpha’s brows shot up at that, but you weren’t done. “You should have conditions like that. A lot bigger than that, actually. You get to decide the kind of relationship you want. But I would like it if you let me explain my reasons.”

You could list on one hand the times you had seen Alpha looking uncomfortable, but this was one of them. “I don’t know if I want to listen to why you don’t want anyone knowing. It’s hard enough without hearing exactly-”

“Hearing that it’s for my job?” you interrupted, not liking the train of thought he was going down. “Alpha, it has literally nothing to do with me being ashamed of you or anything like that. Stars, of course I’m not! You’re amazing and I still don’t know how I’m lucky enough to be in a relationship with you.”

You bit your lip slightly at that last part. You were pretty sure you and Alpha were in a relationship - that was what this entire conversation was about, after all - but putting it into words was a frightening experience. What if you had misunderstood something along the line and Alpha was under the impression this was more casual than that?

“Neverd’ika,” Alpha rumbled, the name partnered with the low fondness in his voice soothing you immediately. “No matter how amazing you think I am, I know you’re more than that. I’m the lucky one. Now, tell me these reasons of yours. Though I won’t promise I won’t try to talk you out of them, especially if it’s the difference between being able to do things like this in front of my di’kutla vode.”

To be honest, you were expecting a kiss with that emphatic declaration, but you almost melted when Alpha reached out to take a gentle hold of your hand, wrapping it fully in his own. If he wanted to show his affection for you in such an innocent way, how could you say no?

With effort, you forced yourself to think back over your reasons, cutting directly to the most important one: “I’d lose my position.”

Alpha clearly hadn’t been expecting that, if you were to judge by the surprised tilt of his head. He took a moment to process that, thinking it over before carefully asking, “What do you mean?”

You sighed. “You know as well as I do that the Kaminoans don’t like me. No matter what the Republic’s findings were and the whole thing about the Kaminoan senator, they still want me gone. They will do anything to send me away from here. They’re just looking for a reason. If any of them find out that we’re dating, they would report it to the Republic, force them to send me away from here.”

His hand tightening around yours, Alpha shook his head. “No, they couldn’t. No one else wants this position, remember? Czajak and Jaiss both told us that.”

“I already thought of that,” you admitted with a sad smile. “But me dating you… Even if the Republic couldn’t find anyone else to complete the report, they still would have to take me out of here. My writing would be seen as biased, influenced by knowing and being around you. I mean, it already is, but they would be more concerned about the fact that I’m with you in a romantic capacity.”

Alpha frowned again at your hasty self-edit. “I make you biased?”

“Of course you do,” you told him with a laugh, swinging your clasped hands just a bit. “How could I be around you and your brothers for this long and not be influenced by seeing you all grow, learn, and interact?”

“But bias would imply that you’re seeing us differently than you otherwise would have,” Alpha pointed out, his sharp mind turning over all of the meanings of your question, overt and subtle alike. “That makes no sense. What is the Republic seeing that I'm not?"

You shrugged. You had hoped he wouldn’t pick up on that part, but there was little avoiding it now that he had pinpointed it and asked the question. “The Republic wanted a report on you all like you were droids: specifications and abilities in a dry, thorough list. Neat, clean… soulless. Instead, they’re getting a report that shows that every trooper in this army is a person, with all of the messy things that includes. We’ve known they don’t like that.”

“You’re right,” Alpha admitted, voice heavy. “So what do you want to do? Should we stop- stop this?”

Laughing was the wrong response - you knew that even before Alpha shot a disbelieving look your way. But you couldn’t keep it in, not when he had asked something that seemed so counterintuitive to you. “I’m sorry, I just- no. No, we shouldn’t stop seeing each other. We just… We’ll have to keep it quiet. I know that hurts and I would change it if I could-”

“Would you?” Alpha asked, his dark eyes intent on your face.

“Of course,” you told him firmly, squeezing his hand to echo the decisiveness of your tone. “Alpha, I would like nothing more than to openly be together. It would mean everything to me. But it just isn’t possible. And if I have to choose between going back to Coruscant or seeing you every day and only being able to be ourselves when we’re alone, I know my choice. I’m too selfish to let you go based on that.”

Alpha didn’t reply, and a heavy pang hit your chest. For all of your determined ranting about troopers having rights and autonomy, you hadn’t given Alpha a chance to respond. There was a possibility that your offer wouldn’t be enough for him. He had set a hard limit, and it was up to him to decide if this was too close to that limit for his comfort.

With your heart rate increasing rapidly, you added, “But this choice isn’t mine alone. You have to decide whether you can live with those terms. If not, I won’t blame you.”

You were both relieved and terrified when Alpha didn’t answer immediately. He was taking the time to think over your offer - something you were glad to see even as you agonized over the possibility that his final decision would hurt.

“And you’re not embarrassed of me,” he repeated, raising an eyebrow at you. 

The shake of your head was so sudden and emphatic that something in your neck twinged unpleasantly. “Not in the slightest. I never could be.”

He nodded slowly. “Then I would still like to give this a try.”

“Yeah?” you breathed softly, unable to stop the slow grin spreading over your face.

Alpha nodded, an answering grin blooming across his face. “Yeah. But first-”

He cut himself off, but his body took up where his words had ended, slowly and gently reeling you in by the hand. He gave you time to fight against the pull toward him, but you didn’t. Instead, you went willingly enough into his arms, ending up cuddled beside his body. He was still wearing his armor, but the plastoid wasn’t piercingly cold, as it had been warmed from the inside-out. 

Alpha’s arms wrapped around you in a hug while your own reached ineffectively around his waist, stymied by his broad back. He held you for a moment before his grip tightened. He had dipped his head, murmuring into your hair. It was quiet in your office, but you struggled to hear what he was saying. Maybe the words were meant for himself rather than you.

At the end, he ducked his head even lower as he took a shaky breath, hands stroking over your back. “Don’t do that to me again, neverd’ika. I thought I had finally gotten everything I wanted, but it was… different. Wrong. I can’t- Don’t make me do that again.”

“Never, Alpha,” you reassured him, squeezing him with everything you had so he could feel your grip through the armor. “I want this just as badly as you do. Probably even more.”

“Impossible,” Alpha told you with a rumbling laugh. He pulled away just enough to slide his fingertips below the corners of your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. 

For the second time in your conversation, you expected him to kiss you, but for the second time, you had been wrong. Instead, Alpha closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours. You were startled, both by the unexpected gesture and by the sight of him so close, but your eyes drifted shut a moment later.

Kissing was synonymous with intimacy for you, a by-product of your upbringing in the galaxy at large. Most species kissed as a fulfillment of intimacy, attraction, love, or a thousand other feelings. No one was sure who had started the practice of kissing, especially since some species lacked lips or had other impediments that made kissing impractical. You had always vaguely felt sorry for those species, unable to imagine life without something as profound as sharing a kiss with someone you loved.

But standing there, your forehead pressed against Alpha’s as your breathing synchronized with his and his scent surrounded you, you started to alter your opinion.

---

A/N - We're back! Welcome to Gar Cyare! As I've been saying, this story is going to explore the relationship between Alpha and the reader. There will be plot eventually, but not until a little further in the story itself. Thanks for reading and please feel free to let me know what you thought!

You can find other works on my masterlist, or sign up for my taglist here!

Taglist: @rexs-wife @sugarpuffsstuff @stargazingthenightaway @just-some-girl-92 @kimageddon @ladysongmaster @carodealmeida @adriiibell @nomercyforthewarrior @boomtowngirl @bitchylittleredhead @blck-omen @hrk-fic-recs @lackofhonor @captxin-rex @literallydontlook @salaminus @mothmanbelievesinyou @archivedreading @lucyhelena @808tsuika @ladykatakuri @echos-gal @shawtyitsyou @butterbug14 @skyguy-snips @fan-fic-favs @frietiemeloen @tsedeshgishnii @buddee @justanothersadperson93 @leotatombs @mavendeb @rain-on-kamino @itsagrimm @dancingwiththeplanets @hummellchen @theclonesdeservebetter @wolffeswife @ladyemxo @maulslittlemeowmeow @murder-of-crows-1 @dsburnerblog @ollovaemisc @rosmariner @staycalmandhugaclone @marennial @fordo-kixed-rex

As you sat in your office, darkened holopad screens reflecting the gray Kaminoan skies visible through the window behind you, your attention was caught on a small holoprojector sitting on the corner of your desk. It had been given to you by the ARCs-in-training, set to display a series of images in rotation. The images had mostly been captured by Bacara, who proved to have quite a talent for recording people and scenes at the perfect time. 

The current one was a candid image of the group sitting at the table you had claimed in the cafeteria. Despite the normalcy of the setting and people, you remembered that day vividly. 

You had been sitting with Alpha, the ARCs, and Limit, enjoying your meal. Being in the cafeteria hadn’t stopped being uncomfortable since the attack. The cadets weren’t hostile to you anymore, not the way they had been just after the invasion, but they weren’t going out of their way to be friendly. There were no flirtations. Anywhere you went around Tipoca City, wary glares and suspicious whispers followed, but you did your best to ignore them.

The cafeteria was tricky, since you were sharing an enclosed space with the cadets. Your ability to ignore them waned in the close quarters and your heart sank every time one of them made a derisive face at you. 

Still, the troopers didn’t make it easy to pay attention to those cadets. They were loud. It was something you had noticed the first time you had ever eaten in the cafeteria. You had been terrified back then, nervous that you would offend someone or be in their way. Between your fears, the underwhelming food, and the sheer level of noise in the room, you had never managed to relax in the cafeteria.

Things were still loud now, maybe even more so. Alpha and Limit were quiet, but the ARCs tended to be bold, especially when they were arguing about something ridiculous. And that was often.

Surprisingly, you didn’t find the noise as jarring when you were in the middle of it instead of on the outskirts. And you had very much been in the middle of it. Alpha was sitting beside you, occasionally contributing to the conversation but mostly just listening in alternating waves of irritation, amusement, and fond exasperation.

Somewhere between dumping his tray and returning to the table, Bacara had managed to capture the holoimage, which showed everyone enjoying a meal together, talking and laughing exuberantly. 

Then everything had gone wrong.

A cadet had been moving past your group, clearly heading for a table, when someone shouted something. You didn’t hear what it was, but the tone wasn’t entirely friendly. You turned to see what was going on - worried that it was directed at you and unsure what you would do if it was. 

Unfortunately, the cadet had been startled and lurched to the side with his heavily laden tray. His full glass of water had toppled, spilling cold liquid onto your shoulder, splashing it across your chest and trailing down your arm.

The cafeteria had gone silent a moment later, but you couldn’t be sure whether that had happened when they saw your drenched sleeve or when Alpha had seized the cadet by the arms. 

“You have ten seconds to explain what just happened,” Alpha ordered tersely. 

The cadet stammered for a moment - he was a young trooper, too young to look like anything other than a child. “I- I was walking to a table and got startled, sir. Sorry, sir. Sorry, ma’am.”

Alpha stared at him as if he could read the cadet’s mind if he looked deep enough, a hard light in his eyes. Your mind was screaming for you to say something, but all you managed to do was watch. Alpha’s grip didn’t tighten, but he didn’t let the cadet go, either. He just held on and stared grimly.

Bacara had approached the table with a smooth, easy stride that didn't quite manage to hide his worry. “Alpha, I saw the whole thing happen. It was an accident.”

That spurred you into speaking as well. “It’s just water, Alpha,” you soothed quietly. “It’ll dry and he didn’t do it on purpose.”

Alpha let the cadet go. Without breaking his gaze on the cadet’s face, he scooped up the empty glass and handed it back. “Best go get more, trooper. Take a different way back to your table.”

The cadet backed away quickly, nodding too many times. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The rest of the meal had been quiet and tense, ending shortly afterward. 

Originally, that image hadn’t been included in the rotation on the holoprojector the ARCs had given you. You had to ask Bacara for it. You understood his reasoning for keeping it out, but even the mild reminder of unpleasant moments made the rest of the rotation much more pleasant. It kept you grateful for the better times.

As that image faded, it was replaced with one of you standing with the kids. Tech was next to you with Hunter beside him. Wrecker was on your other side, already towering over you and everyone else. One of his arms was propped on your shoulder - because Alpha had scowled at him for propping it on your head - and the other was wrapped around Crosshair. All of you were smiling, even Crosshair. For that alone, you had demanded a copy of the image.

It had been a surprise for you to find that you and Alpha had apparently adopted four genetically altered troopers. Granted, you had already planned something along those lines after they had helped Alpha and the ARCs so much during the Separatist attack, but it was a bit of a surprise to learn that the adoption had essentially happened without you knowing. 

In any case, the troopers had been a bright spot during the recovery, just as fiercely protective of you as Alpha and the ARCs were. You thought their efforts were more cute than intimidating, but you could see them growing, learning, and becoming more competent even as you watched with fascination and a bit of sadness.

The day Bacara had captured that holoimage, you had gone to the ARC training area to support the men in one of their late-afternoon trainings. You had finished with your work earlier than expected and thought you would drop in. Alpha never said anything directly about it, but you hadn’t missed the way he preened and showed off just a bit when you were watching a training session. And it wasn’t exactly a punishment for you, either.

When you had settled at your usual spot inside the training area - safely tucked off to one side so you wouldn’t accidentally get in the way - you were taken aback by the training. Instead of the planned training about infiltration tactics, Alpha and the ARCs were standing in a loose circle around the cadets. Alpha would announce a move or series of moves and the cadets would perform them. The ARCs called advice, encouragement, or stepped in to provide an opponent if necessary. 

You couldn’t hide that you were worried at first. A lot of the moves the cadets were doing were intense, seeming far too advanced for them… but they completed every one perfectly. In that moment, you were struck by the difference you were already seeing in the four young men. 

You had only known them for a handful of weeks, maybe a few months at most, and they already looked so grown-up. Their faces and bodies were leaner, they had gotten taller, and they were already starting to put on the muscle mass common to the troopers. Wrecker was taller and more muscular than his brothers while Tech and Crosshair were far more slender than typical, but the changes were clear. 

While you were coming to terms with the ache in your heart, already mourning the lost childhoods of these cadets you had barely gotten to know, Alpha called an end to the exercise. 

As the cadets took a moment to catch their breath, Alpha nodded approvingly at them. “That was much better. You’re improving quickly.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Tech said, eyes shining behind his goggles. 

“We’re just tryin’ to keep up with all of you guys!” Wrecker tossed out, dodging and returning the punches Drift playfully threw in his direction. 

“Yeah, but we’re ARCs,” Neyo countered. “If you’re keeping up with us, you’re better than most of the cadets on Kamino.”

“Not bad for a bad batch,” Crosshair said, a wry smile on his face.

You had frowned, sitting up and opening your mouth to say something when the ARCs burst out laughing. Before you could say anything at all, the ARCs had congratulated Crosshair on that piece of humor and the name had been repeated more times than you could count.

“You okay, neverd’ika?” Alpha had asked, coming to sit beside you. 

You gestured at the cadets. “The bad batch? Don’t you think that’s… I don’t know… insulting? I don’t remember a lot of the Separatist attack, but I remember enough to know that they were a huge help. Why would they call themselves that?”

“I don’t know; they didn’t talk it over with me,” Alpha replied with a shrug. “Ask ‘em.”

“I will,” you decided, firming your jaw. 

Alpha’s fingers on your wrist stilled you before you could move too far, and the warning look on his face stopped you from saying something immediately. “But remember, it might be more insulting to tell them that they don’t have the right to choose what they call themselves.”

You paused, deflating slightly. Alpha had made a fair point, and you had no idea how to convince the cadets not to call themselves that without taking away their agency. In the end, you settled for calling, “Why ‘bad batch’?”

The cadets paused at the sound of your question as the room’s occupants turned toward you. They exchanged glances, but when Hunter spoke, his answer was confident and firm. “That’s all the Kaminoans see when they look at us. It’s what they call us. If we call ourselves that, they’ll know we don’t see it as an insult. It’s just who we are. We’re a Bad Batch.”

You wanted to argue, to convince them that they were more than that, but when Hunter said their self-chosen title with relish, enough emphasis to capitalize it in your mind, you couldn’t say anything about their choice. If they wanted to be the Bad Batch, that was who they would be.

Somehow, though, these four headstrong young troopers were watching you with nervous anticipation, like they needed your approval. Your heart melted just a bit more for the cadets you and Alpha had unofficially adopted. You nodded gravely. “If you’re going to have a group name, you’ll need a group symbol. That way, there’s no mistake about who you are and what you’re going to do. Every place you go and every bit of good you do, the Kaminoans will be reminded that they tried to shrug off some of the best troopers this place has ever produced.” 

Warmth at your back warned you that Alpha had stepped up behind you. With a heavy hand on your shoulder, he rumbled, “I’ll never forget that you stepped up to help me and these men during the attack. You put yourselves at risk for no gain. If you want to call yourselves the Bad Batch, you should. I’m proud to say that I was there for the Bad Batch’s first mission.”

There was a beat of silence before the newly-christened Bad Batch saluted the captain. 

No - that wasn’t quite right. The angle of their bodies was wrong. 

You had to choke back a wave of emotion when you realized that their salutes were aimed at both Alpha and you.

The image switched, breaking you from your reverie. Only then were you aware of the fond smile stretched across your face. It didn't leave as the next images in the sequence appeared.

It was an image of this very office, one major difference being that the holoprojector currently displaying these images was missing. If you remembered correctly, this image had been captured shortly before Bacara had given you the gift.

You were laughing in the image. You were half-sitting behind your desk, but you were clearly being pulled up and out of your chair by Monnk and Drift. They were laughing, too, and you distinctly remembered Bacara doing the same behind the holocamera. 

You had called to warn Alpha that you would be working late that night. Since you had accepted the new contract with the Republic, your workload had lightened considerably. You still had to reach certain goals with your report, regularly submitting sections to Jaiss for review, but those goals were far more attainable than they had ever been. You couldn't remember the last time you had to work through a meal. 

Even staying late wouldn't have put you at risk of missing dinner with Alpha, but you definitely intended to work past the end of the work day. Alpha hadn't been thrilled by that when you called him, but he didn't try to argue with you… which was suspicious, since he argued about everything. 

At roughly three minutes after you typically left your office, you heard running footsteps in the hall followed by frantic pounding on your door. When it had opened, Drift and Monnk had invited themselves in, followed by Bacara. 

"C'mon, work day is over," Monnk announced, starting for your desk.

“What?” you had asked reflexively, having heard the question but been too confused to process it immediately. “No, I just have to finish this part of the project. I’m almost done. It won’t take more than an hour.”

“Then that will be an easy start to your day tomorrow,” Drift told you. “Let’s go.”

“I can’t just leave,” you protested.

“You can,” Bacara told you. “And you need to.”

“We all saw how hard you worked before the contract was changed,” Monnk agreed. “None of us are gonna let you start working like that again.”

You were touched by their concern, honestly… but you really did need to finish this section or you would forget the point you had been trying to make. You didn’t trust that you would remember the particular phrasing that you had come up with by the time you started your next work day.

“I’ll just finish this section and then I’ll be done for the day,” you bargained.

“Nope, not good enough,” Monnk decreed. “Come on.”

He had reached out - carefully giving you ample time to pull away if that’s what you chose to do - and gently took one of your wrists in his hands. You used your free hand to save your progress on the report but shook your head at the same time.

“Monnk, it’ll be five more minutes,” you protested, the loud laughter spilling from you detracting slightly from the overall impression. “Maybe ten.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Drift said sternly, holding up a hand in your direction. “Are you refusing to comply with orders? Attempting to incite a riot? Resisting arrest?”

Despite yourself, you only laughed harder. “Am- am I being arrested?”

“If you don’t leave here, sure,” Bacara told you, lifting the holocamera in your direction as Drift grabbed your other wrist. 

“Alpha will bail me out,” you insisted.

“Nah, Captain’s on our side,” Monnk said, utterly unconcerned.

That sounded about right, which only made you laugh harder.

“Shift it, civvie,” Drift ordered, though his grip on your arm was more insistent and irritating than forceful. He and Monnk ended up waving your hands around as they pulled you back and forth in an extremely silly manner.

“Don’t tell me she’s overpowering you two,” Bacara teased from behind the holocamera. “What kind of ARCs are you?”

“She’s a tough one,” Drift grunted, pretending to struggle. “The captain must have taught her all his best tricks.”

“Don’t worry, Bacara, we’ll get her,” Monnk promised, pulling your wrist in a way that let him strain against his own hold while you were hardly jostled. “She may be tough, but we’re tougher!”

Bacara gave a skeptical grunt. “Dunno, I might put credits on her instead.”

Monnk and Drift had looked offended for half a second before they had started laughing as hard as you were. Bacara had snapped the picture and here it was.

The image slowly faded into another one. As lovely as the other memories were, they couldn’t begin to compete with this one. It was a relatively simple one - just you and Alpha walking down one of the many bland hallways of Tipoca City. The edges of things in the background were blurred slightly from Bacara’s speed as he had taken it. For that reason, he had been reluctant to give you a copy of it, but you had managed to plead one from him.

The background may have been blurry, but you and Alpha were in perfect focus. You weren’t walking hand-in-hand or anything equally overt, but you were in the middle of a conversation. Neither of you had noticed Bacara or his holocamera yet, so neither of you had your guard up.

You were staring up at Alpha with admiration written clearly across your expression. Even in the middle of whatever you had been saying to him, you were watching him more closely than your surroundings. There was a smile curving your lips and your face was bright with happiness.

You would have been embarrassed by how openly stunned you were by Alpha… if he hadn’t looked equally adoring. His expression was a little more subtle by nature, but his eyes were warm and satisfied. 

As the two of you had agreed months before, you weren’t open about your relationship. You weren’t touching, but something in your body language spoke of closeness and a familiarity formed over long exposure to each other. It was impossible for you to know for sure, but you liked to think that a stranger seeing the two of you for the first time would know that you were friends or more, just based on the way you walked in harmony even with the slight distance between you. 

“Hey, you ready for-? What? Why are you smiling like that?” 

You glanced up quickly, meeting Alpha’s eyes from where he was standing at the doorway of your office. Despite the judgment of his words, his tone was soft - more curious than anything. Your heart performed a series of gymnastics as you noted that he was wearing the same warm expression he had in the treasured holoimage.

“Just watching the projector,” you explained, glancing at the chrono past Alpha’s shoulder. It was time to go to dinner. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Give me a moment and I’ll be ready to leave.”

Alpha hummed, settling comfortably into a chair as he watched you. “Busy day?”

You laughed. “Something like that.”

As soon as you had finished saving your documents and storing the datapads, you shut off the lights and left your office with Alpha walking beside you.

In your more introspective moments before you had confessed your feelings, you had done your best to envision what it would be like to date the stern and imposing Captain Alpha-17. The results had often been overly romanticized - especially since you were well aware that no relationship was perfect - but you had typically reminded yourself that Alpha was, above all else, a soldier. You had thoroughly expected him to struggle in this new role, something unlike anything he had known before.

You had been wrong. 

Was Alpha the perfect boyfriend? Absolutely not. But you weren't perfect either and your relationship seemed to be going just fine. What Alpha lacked in relationship experience, he made up for with focus. 

Alpha had approached dating you with the intense scrutiny he used to study battle plans or landing conditions for an upcoming mission. (Or so you assumed from the stories he had told you.) If he didn't understand something, he asked questions until he did. And after he had woken from his alcohol-assisted sleep, he dissected his communication breakdown with the precision of a man defusing a bomb. 

It was intense but flattering. Alpha had made it clear through his every action that this relationship was a priority for him. Maybe not the most important thing in his life, but certainly not far off. He was focused on you, studying your relationship together until he knew he understood every part of it.

The only thing you could do was put your full focus on him in return. There were ups and downs, even with your prior experiences with romance. You weren’t totally lost, but between the need for secrecy, the intensity of Tipoca City so soon after an infiltration, and Alpha’s own propensity for showing his feelings rather than speaking about them… Actually, when you stopped to think about it, your prior romantic experience didn’t help all that much. 

Even then, walking down the hallway in comfortable quiet, was something you hadn’t experienced before. You had always felt the need to fill silences in the past. Why didn’t you now? Was it because you didn’t need to speak or because you didn’t know what to say? And did Alpha feel the same? He didn’t spend much time talking, but was he wondering why you weren’t? The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him yet again…

“Neverd’ika,” Alpha said suddenly, making you tense. Your gaze scanned the hallway ahead of you, automatically searching for some kind of threat, but found nothing. Alpha murmured your name, drawing your attention. “You’re frowning. Everything good?”

“Are you happy with me?” you asked, the words bursting from you before you could think them through. 

Alpha halted immediately, his fingers on your forearm pulling you to a stop as well. His brows were furrowed low over his eyes as they scanned your face. “What’s going on? Am I happy with you? Of course I’m happy with you. Are you happy with me?”

“Of course!” you replied earnestly. 

Alpha huffed, making an exasperated gesture that showed his frustration with you without using a single word. “Then why are you asking questions like that?”

“I just-” you cut yourself off with a sigh. “I just wanted to make sure.”

Narrowing his eyes at you, Alpha took a step closer. His height meant you were left staring up at him, but you couldn’t deny that his nearness had your heart beating faster. His hand, tucked close by his side, found yours. With his hand running gently over the back of your palm, you were caught in a firestorm of anticipation and comfort. 

“Neverd’ika, I promise you this,” Alpha started, voice low and serious. “If I ever think things need to end between us, I’ll tell you. I’m enough of a man to do that. You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded and Alpha nodded with you. “And you’ll do the same with me. Promise me that you’ll tell me if you want to end this.”

You nodded again, but Alpha looked skeptical. “And you won’t be nice to me just to spare my feelings like you do with the cadets?” You shook your head, a grin fighting to form at his over-exaggerated suspicion. “Because I’m the perfect person to practice your meanness on. In fact, that might be a good idea…”

“Alpha, don’t,” you argued, half-laughing. “You know how you couldn’t help me spar because you could never try to hurt me? I feel the same way about you. I couldn’t be cruel to you. Please don’t ask me to.”

“I don’t think you would ever be cruel, cyare,” Alpha admitted. “But I think you could hurt me. Kriff, I know you could. You’re the only one who could.”

Your heart melted a bit at that and you lifted slightly onto your toes. Alpha’s gaze bounced from your eyes to your lips and back - an unbelievably quick flick of his attention, but it was enough to make your lips part with your suddenly quickened breath. 

Just as Alpha started to lean down, a group of cadets passed. Alpha straightened, throwing a dirty look at the cadets. Whether it was because of their interruption or because he was preparing for them to throw an insult in your direction, you couldn’t be sure.

In either case, the cadets took no notice of you or Alpha. They passed in laughing conversation. When the noise of them had faded, you and Alpha reluctantly pulled apart and continued in the direction of the mess hall. 

You and Alpha had been remarkably tame as a couple. 

Sure, you had kissed. You dreamed about that kiss. You had shared a few touches here and there. You had woken up in his bed - and his arms - the morning after his encounter with Zackra Trem and her alcohol. But those scattered incidents were as far as things had ever gone between you.

There was chemistry between you. The urge to get closer physically was there, but the obstacles seemed to appear out of nowhere. If you weren’t busy doing your jobs, there were Kaminoans around. If the Kaminoans weren’t nearby, cadets were. And even when the stars aligned perfectly, there was an odd sense of hesitancy. You had initially wondered if it was coming from you, but you had noticed it from Alpha as well. 

Your only guess was that months of denying yourselves the slightest physical touch had given both of you a natural reluctance toward moving forward in your relationship. At least, that was what you hoped it was. If there were deeper issues between you and Alpha, you needed to find out as soon as you could.

Those thoughts disappeared as you finally reached the mess hall, but the underlying sense of urgency still remained. Still, you tried to push it from your mind as you stood in line to retrieve a tray with Alpha. The ARCs-in-training, the self-proclaimed Bad Batch, and Limit were all waiting at your usual table.

You and Alpha were greeted as cheerfully as ever. Out of long-formed habit, you took seats facing the door, the edges of your trays aligned so that you had an excuse to sit a little closer than one would typically see in the Kaminoan cafeteria. 

As you shared a meal with your boyfriend and the odd group of friends you had collected, you began to relax into things. Your tumultuous thoughts of earlier faded into nothingness as you chatted with everyone. You even got Alpha to smile.

You didn’t know exactly when you had started to lean into Alpha’s side, or when he relaxed the muscles of his thigh so that your legs were pressed together from hip to knee. All you knew was that when Limit hissed for you to watch out, you yanked away from him and the time it took to unlace your fingers felt like a heart-pounding eternity. 

“What is it?” Alpha demanded lowly, pretending to pay incredibly close attention to his meal. 

“Kaminoans,” Limit told you, voice the darkest you had heard from the friendly medic. 

“They’re circling today,” Neyo muttered. “Upper levels. They’ve been staring down at everyone for almost an hour.”

“Why?” you asked, glancing around the table. Having people stare at you while you were trying to eat seemed like an invasion somehow, and bad manners if nothing else. But though everyone else seemed irritated by it, apparently none of them were surprised.

“They do this every so often,” Faie told you. “No one is sure why.”

“Looking for excess,” Alpha said, spearing a piece of food so hard that you were sure his utensils would go through the table itself. 

“Excess,” you repeated blankly. “What excess?”

“Any excess,” Alpha said, glowering up at the raised bank of windows that looked out onto the cafeteria. “You forget, neverd’ika, the Kamiini are running a business. They watch us to search for overages in food provision or consumption, deficiencies with any of the men and the way they eat, or too much conversation between them. They don’t like their products forming bonds. There is no money to be made through brotherhood.”

The bitterness was so thick in Alpha’s voice that you felt you could choke on it. To hear Alpha sounding so angry was far from unusual… but the underlying pain made you settle a comforting hand on his forearm. 

Alpha had a half-moment to glance over at you and smile before Bacara rapped his knuckles against the underside of the table with a sharp crack. “What did we just say? Watch yourselves or the entirety of Tipoca City is going to know about the two of you.”

“I’m confused,” Hunter said, speaking for the first time instead of continuing his quiet observation. “Everybody already knows about the two of you. What does it matter if the Kaminoans see it? They probably already know, too.”

Alpha stared at him, frowning heavily. “Kid-”

“You know what?” Drift interrupted. “The rest of us are pretty much done here. Why don’t we take the Bad Batchlets and teach them about the concept of plausible deniability?”

“Batchlets?” Crosshair repeated, sounding irritated. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” Monnk told them, urging everyone up and out of their seats. When everyone was on their way to the garbage cans or the cafeteria doors, Monnk leaned down to speak. Glancing between you and Alpha, he said, “If I were you, I would take this time to talk about everything, especially what comes next.”

“And that means?” Alpha asked, arching a brow.

Monnk shrugged, sending you a kind smile. “Whatever comes next for you according to how you want your relationship to go. Surely you’ve got some kind of plan? And if you don’t… that might be the first thing you need to talk about.”

And then he straightened, throwing a nod over his shoulder and leaving the cafeteria before either of you could give any kind of response.

You and Alpha finished your meal in silence - you hadn’t spoken about it, hadn’t planned it, but you were clearly on the same wavelength. Unlike the earlier lack of conversation on your way to the cafeteria and most silences you and the captain had shared, this one was distinctly uncomfortable. If you had been able to see past your own sense of nervousness, you would have figured that both of you were trying to plan what you wanted to say. 

Alpha’s fingertips brushed your elbow and you knew what he meant. You stood, following him to dump your tray and leave it in the appropriate place before you left the cafeteria. 

You knew, of course, what Monnk had meant by ‘what comes next’. He wanted you and Alpha to talk about where your relationship was going, what you would do when your contract on Kamino ended, and any excuses you would give if you were caught and your relationship was exposed. There was a lot of conversation to be had.

So why did your mind immediately jump toward the question of moving things forward in your physical relationship with Alpha?

Your nerves were on fire as Alpha steered you wordlessly in the direction of your personal quarters. No matter which way your conversation ended up going, you were going to need privacy for it.

The snarled thoughts in your head cut short so abruptly that they seemed to echo in your mind as a cadet started walking toward you with a purposeful air. Beside you, Alpha straightened, a lethal-looking scowl already forming on his face. You pressed your palm against the warm span of his back and Alpha closed his mouth. His glare didn’t fade.

The cadet stopped a short distance in front of you, his air of professionalism contrasting sharply with his youthful appearance. He nodded at Alpha. “Captain.”

Alpha didn’t nod back, but the cadet had already shifted his attention to you. “How involved are you in the production of clones, ma’am?” 

The question wasn’t outright offensive, so you did your best to answer it honestly and without clear suspicion. “Not at all, trooper. I’m just the one writing the report requested by the Republic Senate about the production process.”

“And do you have anything to do with the testing of the final products?” he asked.

You frowned at him. “Testing? No. That’s all done by the Kaminoans and their staff.”

“Do you want to be part of the testing group?” One corner of his mouth curved upward and he waggled his eyebrows as he added, “I’d be fine with it if you wanted to make sure all of my pieces work. In fact-”

“That’s enough of that,” Alpha cut off, stepping forward between you and the cadet. “Run along before I test how firmly your arms are attached.”

The cadet smirked, but you noticed his speed as he fled the area. You glanced up at Alpha, a smile growing on your face. He shook his head, voice grumpy as he asked, “What?”

“That’s the first time one of the cadets has flirted with me since the attack!” you exclaimed, trying not to tear up about such a minor thing.

“That isn’t true,” Alpha argued. “I watched you- uh, saw you in the mess. There was some di’kutla cadet flirting with you at every meal.”

Any glee you may have felt knowing that Alpha had been watching you during your separation dissipated in the face of your embarrassment. Ducking your head slightly, you mumbled, “Uh, not- not quite. But it’s okay. Let’s keep going.”

The effort it took not to run down the hallway toward your quarters was ridiculous, but you managed. Of course, it took less than the length of one hall for Alpha to catch up with you. “What does that mean, neverd’ika? I saw it. I was proud of you for standing your ground, even when I thought you would never speak to me again. You shut the cadets down without a problem and you did it every day.”

“Those cadets…” You trailed off to take a deep, slow breath. It wasn’t something you necessarily wanted to admit, but you refused to lie to Alpha. “They weren’t flirting with me.”

“You said they were,” Alpha told you. 

“Technically, you said that.” 

Something in Alpha’s eyes told you he was thinking back over your conversation in his quarters after your cast had been removed. “I did,” he agreed eventually. “But you didn’t correct me. What were they really saying to you?”

“A lot of it was questions,” you answered honestly. The fact that there had been a few threats and insults wasn’t worth mentioning, especially since the ARCs-in-training had dealt with those situations immediately and decisively. “As long as they were polite, I answered their questions and invited them to stay. Some of them took me up on it, some didn’t.”

Alpha frowned, but reached out to brush the side of your hand with his fingers. “I can’t believe you misled me.”

“We were arguing,” you reminded him, smiling to take the sting out of your defensive tone. “And I can’t believe you were watching me in the cafeteria.”

“Every day,” Alpha said unashamedly. “How else was I supposed to survive eleven days without you?”

Your heart lurched at that. When you could speak, your voice came out so low and rich that you almost didn’t recognize it. “Alpha, you’re lucky we’re still in public or I would show you exactly how that makes me feel.”

Alpha’s head whipped in your direction. “Your leg is bothering you.”

The sudden change of subject - especially with a statement that was patently untrue - made your head spin… or maybe that was just the shift of Tipoca City as Alpha scooped you into his arms and rushed off toward your quarters at top speed.

---

Author's Note - sorry for posting later than expected! I think I'm going to start planning Thursday posts in the future to make things a little easier. On the bright side, only about a week and a half left until the next chapter!

Thanks for reading, and extra thanks for those who commented on or reblogged the last chapter! My motivation for writing this story is starting to fade a bit and those really keep me going!

(I have no plans to abandon this story, but the reblogs and comments just make writing a little easier.)

Find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here!

But he was still watching you, a considering light in his dark eyes, and it was starting to make you nervous.

You rested your fork politely on your napkin and turned to face him directly. “You’re staring at me, Alpha. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Do you want to fight?” he asked nonsensically.

You blinked at him, allowing yourself a beat before you gathered yourself enough to ask dryly, “I would have thought we had done enough of that last week.”

Alpha laughed, the sound rich and tingle-inducing. “Not exactly what I meant, little one. Do you want to learn how to defend yourself?"

"Oh," you said ineloquently. It wasn't a bad idea, though you profoundly hoped you never had to go through another situation like the Separatist attack. "It would probably be smart."

"I think so," he agreed. "And, fortunately for you, you'll have the best trainer on Kamino."

"Best trainer on Kamino?" Monnk asked, sliding into a seat at your table. "Did T’vert come back?" 

"Nah, never," Drift argued. "Don't you remember how badly things went wrong on that departure day? The Kamiini swore, never again. He has to be talking about Zarll."

"Isn't he a politician now?" Neyo asked, joining the group and the conversation. "And I only asked to be polite. He's a politician now. Why are we talking about Zarll?"

"Trying to figure out who the best trainer on Kamino is," Drift reported.

Neyo looked thoughtful for half a moment. "Has to be Trem. Have you seen her cadets? Most of them will end up as ARCs someday, watch for it."

Alpha gave a piercingly loud whistle to draw the attention of the chatting ARCs. "Thanks for the ego boost, men. Who invited you here, again?"

"You did," Monnk reminded him. 

"Regretting that, Captain?" Drift asked with a cheerful grin. 

"Always," Alpha grumbled. "You almost done, neverd'ika? I'm losing brain cells with company like these idiots."

"Yeah, I'm done," you agreed, and Alpha took your tray to discard everything on it. He had started doing that recently, claiming he was tired of waiting for you to politely make your way through the line. He cut through lines almost exclusively, a practice you watched with a shake of your head.

"What training are you doing?" Monnk asked, pulling your attention away from your boyfriend towering over cadets as he briskly disposed of your collected garbage.

"Oh, uh…" This wasn't a secret, right? Alpha was a secretive man, but surely he wouldn't care if his ARCs knew. "We've decided that I should learn how to take care of myself. Like, in a self-defense situation."

You weren't sure what reaction you would have expected, but blank stares and silence weren't quite it.

"And the captain offered to train you?" Drift asked, inferring from this new information and what he had overheard.

"Yes," you replied, arriving to sound serene rather than concerned by their skepticism.

That silence was laden with tension and sideways glances shared between the men. You did your best to wait patiently for someone to say something, but when the quiet stretched, you broke.

"What? What's wrong with Alpha offering to train me?"

Neyo was the first one to speak, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "The captain is a great trainer, but… he's tough."

"I know that," you replied, bewildered. You didn't think anyone could have survived so long here on Kamino if they weren't tough.

Neyo shook his head. "Right now, you know it in the abstract. If he trains you, you'll see it in-person. I've seen him make a nat-born cry with a look."

"I've heard him punish someone by ordering him to run laps," Monnk told you. "He didn't let the man stop for five hours."

"He's threatened me eight times today," Drift pitched in, sounding inordinately proud of that fact.

"Ready?" Alpha asked, coming back to the table. With three sympathetic pairs of eyes aimed in your direction, you nodded and stood to follow Alpha, feeling like someone doomed.

Alpha had suggested you start the next afternoon, spending the hours before dinner together. You had hedged slightly, reminding him that you were still working to regain the muscle you had lost in your injured leg.

"That's why it's so important," he had countered. "You've lost your weapon - that crutch. You have to be your own weapon now."

So you had agreed to meet with him, dressed in the workout clothes you had optimistically brought with you to Kamino and never worn.

"The first thing you need to focus on," Alpha started, dressed in his own workout gear, "is blocking a hit."

"That's the first lesson?" you asked, only slightly embarrassed at how squeaky your voice sounded. "It feels like there are other things I could learn first. Easier things."

“Easier things? Sure,” Alpha confirmed with a nod. “But not more useful. If you can block a hit, you can set yourself up to return it. I don’t think you understand how much damage a well-aimed punch is capable of…”

He trailed off, voice odd, and you noticed that his eyes were tracing the edge of your cheekbone. The bruise had long since faded, but - judging from the gentle way Alpha’s fingers smoothed over its exact boundaries on your face - he hadn’t forgotten about it. There didn’t seem to be any reason to bring it up directly, so you didn’t. 

As it turned out, you didn’t need to. With his warm fingers brushing your face and his warm gaze locked with yours, Alpha’s jaw clenched slightly. “Say the word, neverd’ika… One little word and I’ll kill that beroya aruetii.” 

That wasn’t quite the romantic declaration you had expected, but you probably should have. Alpha had made it clear that your safety was one of his top priorities, and he was extremely willing to resort to violence if he deemed it necessary. 

“I appreciate that, Alpha,” you started, smiling despite yourself at the offer. “But I think it would be better if I just ignore Doni and learn to take care of myself.”

Alpha frowned heavily at you. “Why do you know that di’kut’s name?”

You snorted. “Because I can’t pronounce ba-bertoya arn-arueta.”

Despite your stumbled pronunciation of the unfamiliar words, the heat flared in Alpha’s eyes. “I need a warning if you’re gonna start speaking Mando’a. It’s… distracting.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your pulse quickening.

“Okay, so blocking…” Alpha diverted, launching into a lecture about how to perform a proper block.

It turned out that there was more to it than you had originally assumed. A block was just what you did to stop a punch before it could land, but there were so many things Alpha wanted you to remember.

When he finally told you to try a blocking stance, you obliged. You spread your feet apart for sake of balance and held your hands up in front of your face, feeling faintly ridiculous as you peered up at Alpha from between your half-cupped palms.

He studied that stance, eyes narrowing. With the way the lines bracketing his mouth and furrowing between his eyebrows deepened, you assumed he didn’t like what he saw. Before you could ask what exactly you were doing wrong, Alpha reached out, pressed the tips of two fingers to your shoulder, and gave a gentle nudge.

You swayed backward dangerously, only just managing to catch yourself. Alpha tapped your chin, his way clear since you had dropped your blocking hands while you adjusted your stance.

“And now I’ve punched you in the jaw,” he said. “You’re probably unconscious.”

“How was I supposed to know you weren’t going to give me any feedback?” you asked, half-laughing.

“That was your feedback,” Alpha told you, looking nonplussed at your inability to follow his imaginary instructions. “If I can hit you, you aren’t blocking right.”

You huffed at him. “Come on, Alpha. At least tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Alpha motioned for you to set up your stance again, then he walked a tight circle around you, blowing out a heavy sigh as he did. “First, stop standing like that. Your feet are too straight. You want your non-dominant foot forward, but keep your weight on your back foot.”

“My leg still isn’t back to full strength,” you reminded him.

From the understanding on Alpha’s face, that reminder was unnecessary. “I know, neverd’ika. If it starts to hurt, tell me, but I need you to push yourself now. It’s not going to get stronger unless you work on rebuilding that strength.”

You nodded, adjusting into the stance he had suggested as you raised your hands again.

Alpha was shaking his head before you even finished settling into place. “Your arms need to be tighter against your sides. Move your hands closer to your face. No, more than that. More than-”

His breathing stuttered like he had only just managed to keep himself from sighing again. Gently, he nudged your elbows, forearms, and hands until they were in a position he deemed acceptable for blocking. When he was done, your elbows were clasped tight to your sides, your forearms pressed to your chest and your hands hovering somewhere around your jawline.

“Alpha, this feels ridiculous,” you informed him.

He shrugged. “That’s how you block a hit. I don’t know what else to tell you. You’re covering most vital organs and vulnerable spots, and your hands are close enough to your face that you can reach up to block a hit there.”

“I thought you told me not to block with my hands?” 

“Yeah, don’t,” Alpha agreed with an approving nod, ignoring your frustrated look. “But you can lead with your hand to get your forearm or elbow in place.”

“But how do I- ah!” 

You interrupted your own question with a short exclamation of surprise as Alpha tried to tap your face again. But you saw his movement before he made contact and your arm came up of its own volition. Without checking in with your brain, your body used the long bone of your forearm to swipe his hand away.

“Good!” Alpha congratulated warmly as you gave a hesitant smile from behind your hands. “That was a block. A small one. Against a slow, light hit. But still, it’s a start.”

You grimaced at how quickly that praise had devolved, but nodded anyway. It felt silly to talk this way, standing in a position ready to guard against a hit, but you weren’t about to lower your arms. What if you couldn’t bring them back up fast enough when he tried to mock-hit you again? 

“Hold on,” Alpha said, moving exceptionally slowly to wrap his hand around your wrist. 

His fingers closed around the delicate bone of your wrist, giving you time to prepare for his touch before he gently pulled and pushed at your arm. You were holding yourself so tightly, keeping your posture stiff, that your entire body swayed as Alpha moved your arm.

“That’s what I thought,” he chided. “You have to hold your arms more loosely.”

“But this is the blocking pose you told me to use,” you argued.

Alpha shook his head. “I told you this would protect most of your vulnerable spots, including your face. But if I go for the area below your ribs-” He touched his fingertips to the spot he had mentioned, your block doing absolutely nothing to get in his way since your elbows were anchored to the front of your body. “-then you want to move to stop me.”

“But if I don’t hold my arms this tightly, aren’t I more likely to hurt myself if I try to block a punch?” you asked. “I don’t want to punch myself in the face.”

Despite himself, Alpha chuckled at that. “That is a concern. But you’ll learn to make your muscles firm when you’re blocking. Being able to block well in only one spot is less important than being able to block less completely but still effectively anywhere on your body. Does that make sense?”

“So, I’m…” you struggled to find the right words. “I’m sacrificing better efficiency for the sake of better coverage?”

“Yeah, basically,” Alpha said with a shrug. “You’ll learn to be more effective over time, but it’ll take a lot of practice.”

And he did his best to make sure you got a good bit of that practice. You blocked and dodged and blocked some more, but Alpha’s speed and strength never increased. Finally, after you had managed to block nearly a dozen ‘hits’ in a row, you took a step back and nodded at him.

“I think I’m ready for you to speed up or hit harder.”

Alpha stared at you, hard. “Why don’t you let me decide when it’s time to move things forward?”

“Sure,” you agreed easily. He was the trainer, after all. “When do you think that time will come?”

“Let’s talk about hitting,” he suggested instead.

That seemed a little odd to you, which was the only reason you noticed how the subject moved in much the same order as blocking had: Alpha explained the process to you, taught you how to perform the basic movement, then let you practice it. 

When it came time to hit, you ‘punched’ him the same way he had ‘punched’ you earlier: small taps meant to make contact or maybe be slightly annoying rather than painful. However, Alpha was having none of that.

“No, you need to be using your full force here,” he lectured after your second intentionally harmless tap. “You need the practice.”

“But you weren’t using full force for your hits earlier when I was practicing blocks,” you pointed out. 

Alpha shot a sardonic look in your direction. “And you aren’t sure why I wouldn’t?”

“No, I think I have that part figured out,” you replied. Your own sarcastic expression wasn’t nearly as well-developed, but you managed. “But I would have expected you to put a little power behind it since blocking is the most useful thing I could learn.”

“You’re misunderstanding me on purpose,” Alpha complained.

“No, I think you just didn’t think about the fact that teaching me to fight would lead to you having to spar with me.” Alpha’s face didn’t change - his mask of soldier’s professionalism was too strong for that - but something shifted in his eyes and you realized with a start that you had guessed correctly. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want to actually hit me.”

That was such a ridiculous thing to complain about that you struggled with a strong feeling of idiocy… until Alpha’s jaw twitched with how hard he was clenching it.

“I… won't. I can't hit you. I can't even try.” Alpha grimaced at you.

You nodded thoughtfully. "What if I put on the right gear? Helmet and gloves and anything else I would need to protect me?"

Alpha frowned as if he was taking a moment to picture that. “Still no. It's not that I'm worried you would get hurt - even if that's part of it, too - but I just don't think I could take a swing at you. Not if I wanted to mean it in a way that would help you get better. Makes me a useless trainer, huh?”

“Not useless, just…” you trailed, searching for a less offensive word. “Just a little less effective.”

He didn't respond to that, not with anything more than a grunt. You pressed on, knowing he was unhappy about this unforeseen problem. "You can still teach me the basics, right? Enough to help me not get annihilated if I ever get into a bad situation?"

He shook his head. "Don't think you're getting out of this that easily. You still need to learn how to defend yourself. Even if it isn't me teaching you."

You almost wanted to laugh at the begrudging tone he used, but you were too busy being nervous. "Who do you think I should ask? Maybe Monnk? Or maybe Neyo instead…"

"Like hell," Alpha denied instantly. "I'll find someone, and it won't be any of my di'kutla men. It'll be someone I trust. Now, we were working on punches."

Almost two full days had passed by the time Alpha mentioned the other trainer again. When he did, it was only to tell you to brace yourself.

You frowned at him after that pronouncement. "What do you mean? I thought you were going to find someone you trust?"

"I was," he replied, an unfamiliar defensive note in his voice. "But then I remembered that I don't trust anyone."

"Alpha…"

"I'm sorry, neverd'ika," he apologized. "I was talking to one of the other trainers about who I should ask and she got it in her head that I was asking her."

That was an unexpected bit of social confusion you wouldn't have pictured Alpha falling prey to. It was far closer to the things you had done in the past, too polite to correct someone, even if their misunderstanding put you in an awkward position. A comedy of manners you would have thought he was immune to.

"And it was too uncomfortable to correct her," you summarized sympathetically.

“What?” Alpha asked, but your point seemed to process before you actually repeated anything. His face cleared of confusion for a moment before it changed to one of derision. “No. Kriff that. I told her flat-out that I don’t want her around and that I just wanted to know who she would recommend.”

“Alpha!” you admonished, even as you internally admitted that lined up much more closely with what you knew about him. “Was she offended?”

“Yes, but it’s worse than that,” Alpha told you, deadpan. “She’s insisting on training you anyway. Something about a misplaced sense of sympathy.”

“Sympathy?”

“Misplaced?”

The second question hadn’t been yours, and you turned to see where it had come from. 

The newest arrival was a female you vaguely recognized from around the training areas. She wasn’t an ARC trainer - you would have known her better if she had been - but you had seen her around the rooms used for flight training. Not that you had a lot to do with the pilots, but the female was fairly unique among the trainers.

She was a female Weequay with all that entailed. Her cheekbones were pronounced, jutting out under her eyes and giving them slight protection that was augmented by her brow ridge. The bridge of her nose was partially covered by a fold of skin that seemed ready to deflect a hit. Her jaw had a line of fine bone spikes for even more protection. Though her skin was leathery and tough like every other Weequay you had met, it seemed slightly smoother than that of Weequay males. She had a few long braids augmented with metallic ornaments that matched the rings encircling her neck.

The female was taller and slender, wearing clothes that were baggier than you would have expected - only clinging tightly enough around her hips and thighs to support the weight of the multitude of their own pockets. Her shirt was sleeveless, but her lower arms were wrapped in a layer of bandages or tape that went down to her hands, leaving only her fingers free. The muscle of her upper arms and the bends of her elbows were covered in metallic studs that you couldn’t quite figure out the purpose of.

Overall, she was a striking and intimidating figure, especially when she folded her arms and looked you up and down.

“This her?” she asked, her voice direct and slightly hoarse.

“Yeah,” Alpha confirmed. He stepped toward her slightly, lowering his voice, but you could still hear him clearly as he warned, “Don't be a besom.”

“I'm always a besom,” she replied, unimpressed at the way he was trying to use his height against her.

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely, trying to cut off any disagreement between the two. 

They both glanced in your direction - the Weequay wearing a slight smirk while Alpha just looked resigned. 

"Zackra Trem," he told you, gesturing to the female. 

"I've seen you around, but we've never gotten the chance to meet," you explained. "You train the pilots, correct?"

"As much as someone can train a soldier replicated from human genes," she told you, winking before tossing a sly look back at Alpha.

Alpha, as expected, looked unamused. "Shut it, Trem. How are you even gonna train her with those baggy clothes on?"

"Baggy clothes? You see about as much as a civvie on a good day, Seventeen. Today, you’re just embarrassing yourself." With a smirk to accompany that statement, Trem turned to you. "How many weapons would you guess I'm wearing?" 

Despite your surprise at the question, you obligingly studied her, mentally tallying up every space where a weapon could conceivably fit.

"Six," you attempted at last.

"Wrong," she told you. "Fifteen."

Alpha immediately scoffed. "You aren't hiding fifteen, even in that outfit."

"You're right," Trem acknowledged with a smirk. "Not exactly fifteen. More than that."

You frowned, feeling a little stupid at your underestimation of the very formidable trainer. Hiding weapons on one's person was hardly a surprise - the ARCs and the kids made a point of always having a few in easy-to-reach places - but something was still bothering you. 

"Why lie, though?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at Trem. "I was already wrong. You didn't gain anything from lying."

"Maybe I didn't, but you did." Trem folded her arms, the moment emphasizing the buckles and scale-like metallic pieces adorning her shirt. "Consider that your first lesson: your enemy is going to lie to you."

“Enemy?” Alpha asked, voice rumbling with displeasure. “I didn’t bring you in to be her enemy. I brought you here to be her trainer.”

“You didn’t bring me here at all,” Trem countered, not incorrectly. “You didn’t want me here and I came anyway. That means you don’t get to say yes or no about anything. The only one who can is her.”

They both looked your way. Alpha looked irritated and on-edge, but Trem spoke before he had a chance to sway your thinking.

“I heard what happened to you.” The way two of Trem’s fingers rose to tap at her own cheek made it clear that she was talking about your run-in with Doni Pender. “The same thing happened to me, but no one was around to stop it.”

Your heart dropped. You had known you had heard Alpha talk about Trem before, but you hadn’t been able to place her name. But you could now. Shortly after you had met him, Alpha had reported a too-flirtatious cadet to Trem, who he said took a personal interest in situations like that one. And like the one Pender had put you into. Suddenly, things made more sense - particularly, why Trem was so intent on teaching you herself.

Trem didn’t smile, but the lines of strain that had appeared on her face as she talked about her past faded slightly. “I heard you like asking questions. You can ask me one, but that’s it.”

“Is he dead?” 

Alpha’s thick eyebrows flew up at the question, erasing the look of wry consternation that had crossed his face at the knowledge that Trem knew about your question and answer sessions during shared meals. He seemed almost… startled. Like he didn’t quite know what to make of your question.

Trem, in glaring contrast, didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Yes, he is, and by my hand. The Mandalorians who shut the place down made sure of it. They honored my pain by letting me take the revenge I chose… and I did. I’ve never looked back.”

The Weequay’s tone was satisfied, almost cheerful, but the thing that stood out the most to you was her casual use of the phrase ‘the place’. Those two words alone spoke of large-scale horror, a desperate situation, and unfathomable suffering. The fact that her voice had held no real inflection was somehow worse. 

You didn’t want to ask for more information - would never ask her about it unless she initiated a conversation about the topic - but the little you knew was enough to prompt a firm nod from you. “Good.”

Even Trem looked surprised at that. When your expression didn’t buckle under her close scrutiny, she gave a short nod. “Alpha can’t bring himself to hit you, not even for training. I won’t have that problem. My goal is to make sure you can defend yourself. You may hate me by the end of this, but I can promise you’ll have the skills to kick some ass if it ever comes down to it. Can you live with those terms?”

“Yes, I can,” you agreed. “And thank you.”

“What was the first lesson?” Trem quizzed.

“Enemies will lie to me,” you parroted obediently. 

“Very nice,” Trem congratulated. “And here is your second lesson: enemies will always try to catch you off guard.” 

By that point, you had learned enough about Zackra Trem’s teaching style that you quickly prepared yourself to be caught off-guard, but there was only so much you could do with a half-second of warning.

To your utter shock, you managed to block the first hit she directed toward your face. It was a solid block for a solid hit, and catching it on your forearm made your hand tingle. You were a bit slower moving to block her second hit - that one directed toward the curve of your waist. It glanced off of the bone of your wrist. The resulting rush of feeling from those nerves made your racing mind pause for a half a moment - too long to react as quickly as you needed to.

Trem’s final hit connected solidly with your chest.

Unlike Pender’s hit, this one didn’t knock your head to the side or throw you violently off-balance. You stumbled back, but were able to catch yourself fairly easily - despite the way your leg protested. 

At first, you thought you were fine, reflecting that it was an odd place to hit someone. You even tried to get back into a stance that would let you block any other strikes that Trem threw your way. But then your heart gave a belated stutter, like it had skipped a beat but in the most painful possible way. The time it took for your heart to beat again felt like it took an eternity - a terrifying, suffocating eternity. 

When your heart beat again, it took up a pounding rhythm, beating like you had been sprinting for your life. You pressed a hand against your chest, gasping in an attempt to catch your breath once more.

So much of your attention had been focused inward that it felt like you hadn’t really been using your eyes. When you remembered to blink and refocused on what was in front of you, you found Trem looking knowingly satisfied. You dimly recognized that she had pulled her strength, landing the blow in a way that was far less devastating than it would have been. She had known exactly how far she could push the line and had gone up to the very edge. A tiny bit harder and she would have stopped your heart.

The understanding passed between you, your eyes locked with Trem’s, before your concentration was broken by a bellow. 

As much as you were taken off-guard, Trem wasn’t phased for a moment. She turned and blocked Alpha’s punch like they had rehearsed it. She dodged the next, blocked the one after, then delivered a solid blow to his ribs, dodging another wild swing before they broke away from each other. 

“You know this is the best way to teach her!” Trem told him unsteadily, her breathing having picked up from the effort of fighting him. “She needs to know how to handle it.”

“Not like this!” Alpha refused, voice rough. 

“Yes, like this!” Trem insisted. “And you know it.”

Alpha’s head lowered, his brows furrowed over his eyes. His breath was coming in sharp pants. He shook his head once, twice… “I need to go.”

And then he left, shoving roughly out of the door. His elbow connected loudly against the door frame, the sound of the collision sharp even though he was only wearing his thin body glove rather than his armor.

When you had processed all of that, you looked over at Trem. “I’m sorry, I need to-”

Trem shook her head, stopping you from making your way out of the training room. “No, I’ll go. I need to settle things with him myself. Before I do, though, I need to know if you want to keep working with me. I’m not going to be nice or kind or soft, but I can teach you what you need to know.”

“I want that,” you agreed. “I want to know what I’m doing. I want Alpha to stop having to worry about me. And… I don’t ever want to feel helpless again.”

Trem did that almost-smile again, but it was paired with sadness in her eyes. “I can’t promise that - no one can. But we can make it a lot harder for anyone to catch you off-guard. Let me go handle things with Alpha. I’ll be in contact.”

And then you were alone. 

Since you didn’t know when to expect Trem to be in contact, you stayed in the training area for a while. You practiced the moves Alpha had taught you, did some exercises for cardio strength and to keep building the muscles in your leg. When that was finished and you still hadn’t heard anything, you retreated to your own quarters to shower and clean up. 

As you showered - listening intently for the sound of your comlink making noise - you couldn’t help but wonder how the conversation between Alpha and Trem was going. You didn’t think Trem would have gone there with the specific goal of fighting Alpha, but if those two tried to have a discussion about something as sensitive as training differences, there were good odds that things had devolved into a physical fight. 

When the comlink finally rang, you were sitting on your bed and trying to catch up on some background reading for your report. You dove for the device, fumbling slightly as you accepted the transmission. “Hello? Hello?”

“Go to Alpha’s quarters,” Trem’s voice told you through the device’s tiny speaker. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Your heart dropped, but you didn’t get the chance to respond - Trem had disconnected the call before you could even formulate a reply. 

With your earlier concerns in mind, you retrieved a small first-aid kit from your bedside table before making your way to Alpha’s quarters as quickly as you could without breaking into a full run. 

As Alpha’s door came into view, you reflected too late that you had never learned the code that would let you in. You could knock, but what if he was too badly injured to let you in? Then you got closer and realized that the door was open slightly. You didn’t quite know whether to think that was reassuring or concerning, but you didn’t give yourself too long to think about it, pushing through the door with the first-aid kit braced in front of yourself… 

 Only to stop short just inside of the door.

Alpha was lying on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. What you could see of his face was reddened, and his body was more slack than you had ever seen it. Alpha typically held himself with the bearing of a soldier, posture perfectly upright and always coiled for whatever could be thrown his way. Was he unconscious? 

“Alpha!” you called, concern lacing your voice as you hurried across the room. 

Alpha’s arm pulled slowly away from his face as you busily studied his body for injuries. After having found none, you raised your eyes to do the same to his face. His cheeks were reddened beneath his natural tan, but his eyes were bright and he didn’t look bruised.

“Neverd’ika,” he greeted warmly. “Hey.”

“Alpha,” you replied, furrowing your eyebrows as you continued your study with a more discerning eye. “Are you… drunk?”

“No,” he scoffed. “Trem brought tihaar, but I didn’t get batnor. I can outdrink that chakaar any day.”

“Mm-hmm,” you agreed mildly. For your own sake, you hoped he would ease back on the Mando’a. You got a lot from context clues, but you didn’t speak the language and this conversation would be a lot trickier if you didn’t understand half of it. “What did you two talk about over the… alcohol?”

“You,” he told you, filling you with warmth even as he patted the bed beside himself. “Sit down. You’re too far away.”

Obligingly, you sat down where he had indicated. You were roughly even with his waist, giving him a much better vantage point when he rolled onto his side and leaned up to rest his head on his hand. 

“But everything is okay now?” you asked. 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Alpha agreed. “I’ll let Trem keep training you. She said you were okay with that. It was always gonna be your choice, but I just… just need to make sure you’re safe.”

“Alpha, I’m safe, I promise.” You had relaxed a bit when Alpha told you everything was fine, but you tensed when the furrow reappeared between his eyebrows. Soothingly, you added, “Trem knows what she’s doing and she’s going to teach me. It’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

“You are now,” Alpha said, the furrow deepening as his gaze fell to your leg. “You weren’t before, though.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Part of you wondered if it would have been wiser to lie, but you respected Alpha too much to give him anything other than the truth. “But that’s in the past.”

“Doesn’t feel like it to me,” he confessed, jaw clenching. “When those clankers had you… I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified. And then you got hurt and I was more terrified. I never want to see you in a situation like that again. I want you safe - need you to be safe, even if I’m not around to protect you anymore.”

You forced a laugh in a poor attempt to hide the way that sent a horrified chill through you. The idea of living without Alpha was one you didn’t want to spend too much time contemplating. “That isn’t an excuse to skip out on future fights. You need to stick around for all of them.”

“I’ll be there,” Alpha promised, sitting up so he could trace his fingers over your jaw and stare into your eyes, his own gaze dark and fathomless. “The only way I’m gonna die is for you, neverd’ika. I’ll be around as long as you need me.”

You felt your own expression crumple as you fought back tears at that simple, heartfelt, drunken vow. You felt exactly the same way, though you knew he probably wouldn’t like hearing that. You reached out, wrapping your arms around him in a hug that he responded to with eagerness, squeezing you so tightly that you could barely breathe.

He was so warm. You would never get used to that warmth, but it was nothing compared to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. You could feel it in every press of muscle around you and the way his breaths took on a beat of their own. 

When Alpha leaned slowly back toward the bed, you happily rearranged yourself to stay aligned with him. When you were both lying flat, you were cradled in Alpha’s arms like you were the most precious thing he had ever held. He pressed a gentle kiss against your temple and smiled when you sighed in satisfaction.

He fell asleep only seconds later - you could tell by the way his alcohol-scented breath rustled past your head with increasing regularity, and the way he relaxed even further.

Just before you dropped off to sleep yourself, you wondered idly if you had any pain meds in your first-aid kit. Alpha would probably need them in the morning.

---

Translations

Beroya aruetii - traitor bounty hunter

Di'kut - idiot

Neverd'ika - little civilian

Besom - mannerless person

Tihaar - strong clear alcohol

Batnor - drunk

Chakaar - petty criminal (general term of abuse)

---

A/N - DO NOT PUNCH PEOPLE IN THE CHEST. It is generally a bad idea! Don't do it!

Hope you enjoyed the rest of the chapter, though! Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon!

You can find other works on my masterlist or join my taglist here.

Monnk worked on the smallest possible scale. 

He hadn’t been the first ARC-in-training to meet her - that had been Neyo, the di’kut - but he had been one of the earlier ones. He had certainly met her earlier than Drift, which wasn’t saying much. If Alpha could have kept Drift from ever meeting her, he would have.

But Monnk did know that she and Captain Alpha had first met sharing a meal in the mess, so his subtle efforts were just to mention that. He encouraged the captain to keep spending his mealtimes with her. He would keep anything from interrupting their meals together.

Too often, Monnk had intercepted cadets intent on interrupting the pair as they ate. He redirected them elsewhere with persuasion or threats. They weren’t as scared of him as they were of Alpha, but Monnk did his best and came up with some creative stuff, if he did say so himself. 

Evenings were even more of a challenge. Since ARC training ended in the afternoons, it seemed like the entirety of Kamino came to Alpha with questions they had or small tasks they needed him to do. Monnk ran interference in those situations as well, and found himself becoming one of the most trusted sources for information from the cadets and well-acquainted with most of the officers stationed on Kamino. He also got a better idea why Alpha seemed as harsh as he was - even with Bacara taking on some of the tasks, Monnk always seemed to be busy keeping the heat off of the captain.

When he got the chance to speak with Alpha, Monnk pressed his luck and directly mentioned the meals he shared with the administrator, usually by pretending to have temporarily forgotten that arrangement. “Did you want to meet up during lunch to talk about-? Ah, sorry. I forgot you have a lunch partner. Lucky vod. We’ll figure it out later, then.”

So far, the captain hadn’t gotten angry about these little comments, but he didn’t seem to be particularly swayed by them, either.

Ah, well. Monnk would keep trying. Maybe he would turn up the intensity at some point, but this was enough for now. Anything more would be overkill.

—

“Drift, I swear to the gratii’la Maker that I’ll tear you to pieces if you don’t get us out of here right now!” the captain bellowed.

“Sorry, sir!” Drift apologized, only barely managing to keep the sound of his grin from showing in his voice. “The elevator just stopped! I don’t know what happened.”

Alpha continued shouting threats from behind the doors as Drift pulled his slicing kit out of the control panel. Drift tucked the kit neatly into the pouch on his belt as he chuckled at the occasional Mando’a obscenity the captain tossed into his tirade, half-wishing he could see his commanding officer’s face.

“Alpha!” the administrator chided, her voice only barely audible through the doors between them and Drift. “I’m sure he had nothing to do with it. Why would Drift want to get us stuck in an elevator?”

“What are you laughing about?” Faie asked, approaching with Bacara. “Did you trick another cadet into calling a Kaminoan something inappropriate?”

“Not exactly,” Drift told him, beaming as the sound of quiet conversation reached his ears. They were talking, and that was the precursor to other things.

Bacara’s eyes traveled past Drift, widening as they scanned the panel and found it slightly askew. “Is that-?”

Drift pushed the panel fully back into place. “Alor and Cabur? Yeah.”

“Are you insane?” Faie hissed. “The captain’s gonna kill you.”

“We all knew it was just a matter of time,” Drift said flippantly. “But this might be enough to convince them.”

Bacara shouldered his way past Drift, clearly aiming for the panel while Drift hovered behind him, ready to pull his vod away if he started to undo Drift’s hard work. Instead, Bacara just popped the panel open again, entered a long code into the miniscule keypad, and keyed in his datapad’s frequency.

Then he, Faie, and Drift watched as a grainy cam feed flickered to life on the small screen. The administrator and her captain were standing close - a necessary thing in such a confined space - but they weren’t touching. They were talking, though, and the captain was wearing the softest expression Drift had ever seen on his scarred face.

“Turn on the sound,” he urged. “I wanna hear what they’re saying.”

“I dunno,” Faie told him, eying the way the administrator’s hand settled lightly on the captain’s forearm. “Looks like a private conversation to me.”

“Exactly!” Drift told him, exasperated as he pressed what he guessed to be the correct button on the control panel. 

It worked… in a way. A long beep came from the datapad, but it clearly had sounded inside of the elevator as well. Alpha and the administrator pulled apart, their conversation broken off as they glanced around.

“Osik,” Drift breathed, frowning when the expletive was repeated a second later from the screen. He had activated some kind of internal comm system. 

Fortunately, Bacara had enough presence of mind to cover him and keep their self-instigated mission from being discovered. “Captain, it’s Bacara. Faie, Drift, and I are working to fix the elevator.”

Alpha snorted, his derision clear even through the tiny speaker of the datapad. “I’d rather not leave our safety to other people. Especially if Drift is one of those other people.”

He raised a large fist, clearly aiming for the control panel inside of the elevator as the administrator’s mouth fell into a stunned gape. Bacara made an aborted move toward the control panel and Drift had time to let out a panicked breath as Faie stared at him, wild-eyed. If Alpha destroyed an elevator that worked perfectly and had just been temporarily stalled, there would be hell to pay from the Kaminoans. 

“Captain, wait!” he demanded, pushing the panel open once more, flicking a switch and pressing the four buttons necessary to restart power to the elevator. “We have it figured out now. The elevator will stop on the next floor down, then you can take it wherever you need to go.”

“Kriff that,” Alpha swore. “We’re taking the stairs from now on.”

And when the elevator doors opened on the next floor down, Alpha stomped out, leaving the administrator to trail in his wake.

Faie sighed, shaking his head at Drift. “You’re an idiot, vod. But I’ll give you this: I think I’ve figured out what I’m going to do for my push.”

Bacara disconnected his datapad and walked away with Faie, leaving Drift to put the panel back like he had found it. As he worked, Drift thought about his attempt, analyzing the successes and failures of it. Maybe it wasn’t the most elegant solution, but it hadn’t been a total loss, either. 

He wouldn’t give up on it.

—

It didn’t take long for Faie to plan out his attempt. The most time-consuming part of the whole thing was waiting for the right situation to present itself. He needed to be in ARC training, working on defensive and offensive maneuvers, and he needed her to be there.

The administrator being in the ARC training area wasn’t exactly a rare thing, but it wasn’t common, either. That mirshepar'la report took up most of her time. Everyone knew it was busy work, a way of keeping the Senate occupied while the GAR and the troopers did the real work of fighting the Separatists. Well, maybe the administrator didn’t know it… but how could she not? An infant could see that.

In any case, Drift’s stunt with the elevator had given Faie the inspiration he needed to make his plans, and when she came to quietly observe the ARC training, he knew he had found his opportunity. Bacara had pointedly refused to participate in the mission, but he was usually fine with supporting the others in their work. That day, he had triggered a small electric charge that had temporarily frozen the administrator’s datapad. She was paying full attention to the training, guaranteed to see everything that Faie was planning.

“Captain?” he called, attracting Alpha’s attention. “Could you give another demonstration of Maneuver 127? I’d be interested to know how you adjust for the weight of a kama.”

Maneuver 127 was a tricky, showy motion. It required a trooper to fling himself into the air, twist to kick an opponent of equal or greater height, and spiral himself back into position to land on his feet and keep fighting. It was one of the most technically difficult movements in the entirety of Advanced Recon Commando training, and Alpha had perfected it before any of these men had been decanted.

The man in question frowned at Faie. “We went over that move two days ago and you have questions about it now?”

Even for the sake of the mission, Faie bristled at being found lacking. “I understood the rest of it, but I didn’t consider the kama’s effect on balance until today, sir.”

Alpha sighed. “Fine, but watch closely. I’m supposed to be training you sharala men, not putting on a show for you.”

As the captain strode to the middle of the training space, Faie noted with smugness that the administrator was watching him closely. Her attention was fixed on Alpha almost constantly, but it was good to know for certain that she was going to witness his competence and combat abilities. Faie couldn’t think of anything that would impress a female more.

Alpha’s muscles tensed and he leapt into the air, performing every motion perfectly. The kick he delivered was swift, sharp, and brutal - it would disable a droid immediately and any nat-born would beg for mercy just at the threat of it.

When Alpha landed on his feet once more, he glanced around the room. “And that’s how you balance. Any more que-?”

He had cut himself off as his eyes landed on the administrator, who was shaking with silent laughter. She noticed that he was watching her and waved her hands apologetically. “Sorry, I- I’m sorry! That was just… I never knew you were so spinny! It was-” she cut herself off and cleared her throat, striving for a serious tone. “It was very impressive.”

Alpha’s face took on a hint of red under his tan and glared at Faie. “Ten laps, men!”

As Faie ran, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, Neyo passed by and tossed him a sympathetic look. “Alor’s a tough one to crack, huh, vod?”

Faie couldn’t agree more.

—

The second time wasn't his fault, not really.

Drift had been just around a corner when he heard Alpha's exasperated huff emanating from a nearby storage room. "It's not in here, neverd'ika."

The administrator sighed. "Alpha, just- Yes, it is. I just saw it."

Drift peeked around the corner. Alpha was indeed inside a storage closet and his administrator was waiting outside. The lights were off and he was rummaging around on the last shelf, his broad back aimed toward the door.

"You get it, then," the captain huffed. "I don't see it in here at all."

"The whole reason I asked you is because I can't reach it!"

"I can't reach what isn't in here!"

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, stepping into the small storage closet while Drift watched from around his corner.

When Alpha didn't leave the closet or turn around, the opportunity officially became too good to pass up. In seconds, Drift had sprinted up, closed the door, and activated the exterior lock.

The shouts and fists against the inside of the door started instantly, but Drift ignored them all. Instead, he retreated around the corner - safely out of earshot, with the noise in the closet - and activated the group comm frequency the ARCs-in-training had set up. 

“Alor and Cabur mission completed,” he reported.

“There’s no way,” Neyo denied instantly.

A sigh that could only have come from Faie emanated from the speakers. “He means he’s trapped them in another elevator.”

“Ooh, bad idea,” Monnk said. “Captain’s gonna kill you.”

“Not if he’s busy enjoying life with his new girlfriend,” Drift countered. “I just need to figure out how to get from this point to that one. Any ideas?”

“Here’s an idea: run,” Monnk advised, and the other ARCs agreed. “You need to be far away from there when Cabur gets out.”

Drift opened his mouth to argue, but a cadet turned the corner, heard Alpha’s demands to be let out, and started for the control panel beside the door. Then he was too busy running to think up a witty reply. 

—

Neyo wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything. It was part of what had signaled him out as an ideal ARC candidate. More than once, his quick actions and fearless demeanor had been the difference between life and death - not only his own, but those of his brothers and general. 

Those skills translated well to ARC training, but Neyo wouldn't have guessed that they could be applied to a conversation between himself and his ARC trainer.

Still, his mind was working overtime as he decided on a day. After the day’s training had ended - and Bacara had helpfully ushered the other men out of the ARC training area - Neyo approached Captain Alpha-17. 

"Captain, can we have an honest conversation?" he asked.

Alpha stared at him for a moment, eyeing him skeptically before he checked his chrono and gave a slight sigh. "Fine, but… hurry. I have places to be."

"Meeting your civvie - I know. That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Neyo told him quickly, seizing the conversational opening as soon as it appeared. He didn't miss the way Alpha's expression shuttered, turning icy as he gave a tight nod.

Realizing that was all the invitation he would get, Neyo got straight to the point. "You like her."

Alpha blinked, startled at first, then incredulous. "Like h- Of course I like her! Why would I spend so much time with someone I can't kriffing stand?"

"That isn't what-" Neyo broke off, adjusting the trajectory of his point. "I meant that you clearly have a romantic interest in her. You should just ask her to go out with you. I'm sure she would say yes."

The look Alpha sent Neyo's way made the ARC-in-training's blood turn to ice. Neyo's spine stiffened as every instinct screamed that he was in danger. 

But Alpha didn't make a threatening move. He didn't even speak.

Instead, the captain simply turned to leave, holding his glare for every millisecond possible before breaking his gaze.

The minute that chilling look was aimed away from him, Neyo started after Alpha. "Captain-" 

"One more word, Neyo," Alpha rumbled. "One. More."

Neyo wasn't afraid of anyone or anything. Theoretically, that included Captain Alpha-17 and his unfinished threats. In practice, though…

He decided to let things go.

—

The ARCs-in-training had to take a step back from their mission before much more progress could be made. A Separatist attack on Kamino had pushed duty before the pleasure that was - depending on the man - a toss-up between trying to ensure the captain’s happiness or thoroughly unbalancing him by putting him in situations he was unprepared to deal with.

On the smallest possible positive side, the attack gave the ARCs confirmation that their captain truly did care for the administrator. He had been unhinged during the attack while they were trying to find her, taking out tinnies with a speed and violence that none of the other men could hope to match even if all of their efforts were combined. And when they had found her, only to see that she had sustained injuries? 

Well, none of the men had ever expected to see the legendary Captain Alpha-17 hobbled by his emotions.

Still, she hadn’t let it slow her down too much, despite the cast that wrapped around the lower half of her broken leg. She still spent plenty of time in the ARC training area… though there were also four new men to explain the mission to.

“So you’re trying to form a romantic connection between the two of them?” Tech asked, fiddling with his goggles as he did when he was deep in thought.

“No, of course not,” Faie denied, sounding offended. “That would be ridiculous. They already have a romantic connection.”

“We’re just trying to get the captain to act on it,” Monnk explained.

“Or the administrator,” Drift pitched in. “We’re not picky.”

“Code names, guys, c’mon,” Bacara muttered.

“Alor and Cabur, right?” Hunter asked. He didn’t hesitate or stumble on the pronunciation - trooper memory was too exact for that - but he frowned. “Were those chosen for a reason?”

“They’re Mando’a words,” Bacara explained. He had kept out of things for the most part, but he was good at running interference for his brothers. “Alor means ruler and-”

“Ruler?” Wrecker asked. “Why ruler? She’s not in charge of us.”

“It means ruler traditionally,” Faie told him. “In context of the GAR, it means something closer to ‘leader’ or ‘officer’. She’s basically an officer, or might as well be. Just one who doesn’t see combat.”

“Or shouldn’t have to,” Monnk said darkly and the group grew quiet thinking about everything that had happened during the attack.

“And Cabur?” Crosshair asked. He was easily the least interested of the cadets, but he had asked the question, which had to mean something. 

“‘Protector’ or ‘guardian’,” Bacara said shortly. “He’s on his way here now. I’ll hold him up while you all finish explaining. I probably can’t keep him for long, so make it fast.”

They did, quickly explaining what they had done so far.

Crosshair snorted. “You’re all cowards. What you should do is flirt with her, make him jealous.”

There was a beat of silence as the men considered that. 

Drift chuckled lowly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do since the first time I met her. Doesn’t work. Besides, none of us want to die at the captain’s hands. That’s not cowardly, it’s… it’s a wise allocation of resources. The resources in question being my face and my ability to keep using it.”

“I believe Neyo’s efforts make the most sense,” Tech opined when they had finished. “If this is something the cap- Cabur wants, the best thing to do is explain how to make it happen.”

“Nah, Faie’s got it,” Hunter disagreed. “She was impressed with everything he did during the attack, so we know she likes his competence. He just chose the wrong move. Civvies don’t understand how hard Maneuver 127 is to do.”

Wrecker grimaced. “Females are tricky and I don’t know what would work. But I’d flirt with her. I’m not scared of the captain.”

From the amused grumbles around the room, no one believed him, but they didn’t contradict him aloud so everyone else moved on.

Crosshair looked thoughtful. “Why don’t you make this more interesting? Turn it into a bet. First one to push them together wins it all.”

“We don’t have money, kid,” Neyo told him, chuckling.

“I’m sure you have something worth betting,” Crosshair said with a shrug. “No trooper leaves Kamino and comes back without any prizes at all.”

"Just help Drift, Crosshair," Hunter told him.

"Yeah," Monnk said with a grin. "Drift needs all the help he can get."

Drift scoffed. "I don't need help because my plan is perfect enough to stand on its own."

"When I die, it's not gonna be because I locked the captain in a closet and he threw me from a platform," Crosshair snarked.

Wrecker laughed loudly, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Yeah, you're gonna die from shame when I take out more droids than you!"

"I beat you during the attack," Crosshair argued. "By a lot."

That sparked an argument between the two cadets, but Bacara’s overly loud conversation warned them that Alpha was coming into the ARC training area, his administrator trailing just behind. The troopers exchanged weighty glances and got ready to train. Their conversation ended there, but the second half of their efforts were only beginning.

—

Unsurprisingly, Wrecker’s plan was the first to fail. He had done his best to flirt with the administrator, but considering that he was a cadet and not one of the smooth-talking ones, his efforts were immediately unsuccessful. 

The administrator had laughed, erasing the uncomfortable smile from her face. “You’re adorable, Wrecker. I’ll have to pass, but that was very sweet.”

Wrecker’s smile had faded almost immediately when she walked past him and he was faced with a glaring Alpha looming over him.

“You boys are new here,” the captain ground out while Bacara lingered behind him, ready to interrupt if necessary. “I’ve let you figure things out for yourselves, but maybe that wasn’t a good choice on my part. You and I are gonna go over some basic rules and you can share ‘em with your brothers. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir,” Wrecker agreed instantly, trying to swallow the nervousness away from his voice. 

“Good,” Alpha had said, pausing an extra moment. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Wrecker said again, mostly because it seemed like the safest choice. 

“First rule: keep what you learn to yourself. The other cadets don’t need to know what you know.”

“...okay,” Wrecker agreed slowly, wondering what this had to do with the administrator.

Alpha nodded approvingly. “Second rule: don’t pick fights with the other men. You haven’t spent much time with them and you have different skills from the ones they have, but they’re your brothers. If they start something, end it, but you do not make the first move.”

“No, sir. I won’t.” Wrecker was gaining confidence the longer this conversation went on.

“Third rule: if I ever hear, see, or even think you’re flirting with a civilian administrator who is made uncomfortable by the attention, you and I are going to have a conversation that you will - not - like. Do you understand me, soldier?”

Wrecker had snapped to attention by the time the captain had asked his question, and fought the urge to salute as he replied, “Sir, yes sir!”

Captain Alpha-17 let Wrecker dangle there for a minute, one that felt even more intense under Bacara’s concerned gaze. Alpha brought his large hands together, slowly and methodically cracking every joint in his fingers before reaching up to crack his neck. The popping was loud in the taut silence, and Wrecker fought not to flinch with every sound.

“Great,” Alpha said, turning away from him. “I never want to have this conversation again.”

When he had left, Wrecker almost slumped in relief as Bacara let out the breath he had been holding. The ARC trainee let out a laugh clearly designed to break the tension. “Scratch that plan from the list of ideas.”

Wrecker could only agree.

—

Drift was observant. No one would believe it at first - and that was the way he liked things - but Drift took note of everyone and everything. It had helped him stand out from his brothers, and it had helped him take early notice of the way the captain and the administrator had claimed a particular balcony on the lower levels of Tipoca City as their own. 

And so he took to haunting that particular section of the city, ready to continue his plan.

It didn’t take long to find the pair out on their balcony, and the door panel didn’t even need to be sliced to make it lock. Ever since the Separatist attack, all of the doors with exterior access had been programmed to lock from the inside, no matter where they were at on the compound. 

It was the work of a single moment to engage the door’s lock – it was even soundless. The couple-to-be were none the wiser.

Drift knew better than to call his brothers to figure out the next step. They had shown a startling lack of understanding for his extremely nuanced plans, and were no help when it came to figuring out how to get Alpha and his administrator from ‘trapped together’ to ‘getting together’. 

He was on his own.

Fortunately, Drift was an independent thinker, but he really thought quantity over quality of time together would sort things out. Most nat-borns believed in outside forces like fate or destiny. Maybe the admin would think that all of the times they had been locked into places with Alpha were because they were fated to be together and not because Drift was the only ARC-in-training with a valid plan.

In any case, he just had to keep them there. Alpha was a clever man, and he would probably try to slice the lock when he found out they were trapped on the balcony. Drift would block those attempts just enough times that Alor got to see how talented a slicer Cabur could be, then he would gracefully retreat and leave them to romantic bliss.

Of course, graceful retreat and respect of privacy were for later. 

Drift pulled his datapad from the pouch on his belt, booting up the feed from the holocam he had strategically placed on the balcony while he was doing his prep work. It was a minuscule cam, impossible to notice unless one happened to look in exactly the right place on the outer frame of the door. And it had an audio feed.

When the feed displayed on the screen of Drift’s datapad, the pair looked peaceful, lost in the bliss of standing in each other’s arms - well, almost - and staring out at Kamino’s gray sky and gray ocean. Despite their depressing surroundings, both looked deliriously happy, like they were watching a sunset on Scarif instead of watching a midday gap in the rain on Kamino. Maybe love really was blind.

Alpha’s arms were on either side of the administrator as he stood behind her. From what little Drift could see of her, she looked happy with that arrangement. Still, Alpha glanced down at the top of her head after a while.

“I think we should go back inside, neverd’ika,” he said, normally gruff voice gentle and full of reluctance. “We both have work to do.”

She stirred gently, giving a sigh so light that Drift was impressed by the tiny cam's mic quality. “You’re right, Alpha. But thank you; I needed this.”

“Any time, you know that.” Alpha was still smiling slightly as he turned around to prod at the door’s exterior control panel.

That smile disappeared entirely when the door didn’t open, and he was outright frowning by the time he had finally accepted that something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” the administrator asked.

“Something’s wrong with the door,” Alpha bit out. 

“Uh oh,” she replied, sounding more than a little concerned. “I’m not terribly afraid of heights, but I really don’t want to spend the night out here.”

“We won’t,” Alpha reassured her. “We’ll call someone to let us in. It might just take some time for them to get here.”

“...Do you have your comlink?” she asked. “Because I don’t.”

Alpha froze. “I… don’t. I left it in my quarters with my armor. Along with my slicing kit.”

Drift beamed. Without a slicing kit or a comlink, the two really were stuck out there. They would have no choice but to talk and, eventually, come to terms with their feelings. An extremely intoxicated Commander Hilltop had once told Drift that relationships took two things: chemistry and a crucible. While Drift had a healthy amount of skepticism for anything one of his brothers said about relationships, that one made sense to him. Alpha and the administrator had chemistry, and this was definitely a crucible…

“What are we going to do?” the administrator asked, her voice tight with growing tension.

“It’s okay, neverd’ika,” Alpha soothed, setting a hand on her shoulder. “I have an idea.”

His free hand rose to her other shoulder and Drift held his breath, certain he was going to see his captain kiss the pretty civvie… but Alpha just positioned her in one corner of the balcony. 

“Stay there. I’m going to break the door down and I’ll need as much room as I can get.”

“Break the door down?” the administrator asked, watching Alpha with horror.

“Break the door down?” Drift repeated, watching the datapad with horror.

“It’s solid durasteel,” she continued. “You’ll hurt yourself!”

Alpha watched her, raising one eyebrow. “I don’t think so. Stay still.”

He turned and aimed a sharp kick at the panel beside the door. It made an ominous cracking sound, then began to beep frantically. The inner panel flashed with all kinds of interesting colors and warning lights. 

“One more should do it,” Alpha reported.

Drift agreed, which is why he sprinted away from the door as quickly as he could. The cam feed on the datapad showed that they made it safely through the door in under a minute. Drift was long gone by that point… though he realized on the way that he hadn’t had time to close the door panel before he left.

—

“I hope you know what you’re getting us into,” Neyo muttered. “It didn’t go well the last time.”

“That is because you tried to advise him based on your own understanding,” Tech countered. “Why should Cabur trust your experience with females since it is so lacking? This information was found scattered in various places across the holonet.”

“That doesn’t make it true, kid,” Neyo argued. 

Tech frowned at him, eyes narrowing behind his goggles. “Why would it have been recorded to so many different places if it weren’t true?”

“Because natties don’t make sense.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

Neyo sighed. “No. No, I don’t. Fine, let’s try passing on your holonet advice.”

“After considering all of the variables, I believe this will be the best time to speak with him,” Tech explained. “He is about to go see Alor, which puts him in an observably better-than-average mood, but the day’s training has ended, so the captain is less likely to be in a warrior’s mindset.”

“I’m always in a warrior’s mindset,” a voice rumbled from behind them, sending the same tension through the cadet’s shoulders as the ARC trainee’s. “Why are you men so concerned about my mental state?”

Neyo tensed, but Tech turned and breezily asked the captain, “Did you tell her that she looks lovely today?”

Alpha frowned. “No, I- Why would I? Is there something going on?”

“No, but it is always advisable,” Tech pointed out.

Neyo nodded, backing up the young cadet. “Yeah, Captain, he’s right. Females like knowing that they look nice.”

“That’s… not a terrible idea…” Alpha slowly conceded, seemingly searching for a way to think of it as one anyway. 

“No, it isn’t,” Tech agreed. “You could also consider bringing her flowers.”

“Flowers?” Neyo tensed, thinking Tech had pushed too far, but Alpha only looked thoughtful. “Why? Did she say she wanted flowers? I don’t know if I could find any, but if she wants them…”

“No, she didn’t say she wants flowers,” Neyo admitted, knowing that in particular could come back to bite them. Tech glared, but Neyo ignored him. Only one of them was being directly trained by Alpha, and Neyo wasn’t going to suffer the consequences if Alpha thought they had tricked him. “It might just be nice for her to get some kind of gift. You know how hard she works.”

“She does work too much,” Alpha agreed with a slow shake of his head. “But if I’m gonna get her a gift, it’ll be something she can use, not some di’kutla flowers. Maybe a vibroblade, or a small blaster.”

Tech shot Neyo a triumphant look, but Neyo shook his head. The captain was smart, and it was too early to start celebrating. 

Sure enough, Alpha’s eyes sharpened a moment later. “What brought all this on, men?”

“We simply thought you could use some assistance,” Tech said before Neyo could stop him. 

“Assistance,” Alpha repeated, voice slow and dangerous. 

“Yes, because you seem to have trouble forming a romantic connection to the administrator,” Tech continued, heedless of the growing danger. Alpha seemed to loom larger in front of the slender cadet as Neyo’s hands tensed, ready to pull him away. However, the feeling of impending violence from Alpha halted as Tech said, “It is quite perplexing, considering the obvious strength of her feelings toward you.”

Alpha halted entirely, and Neyo hadn’t even noticed that he had been moving until that moment. “Get out of here, men. We aren’t talking about this.”

“Oh, but I’ve compiled more-”

“Ever again, clear?”

“Clear, Captain,” Neyo agreed, pulling Tech away. “Thank you, sir.”

When they were out of earshot, Tech turned to Neyo. He looked thoroughly disgruntled. “What were you doing? I had more information to share.”

Neyo stared at the cadet, utterly heedless of the danger he had so narrowly escaped, and shook his head. “You’re one lucky verd’ika, you know that? We’re dropping this.”

Tech snorted, but didn’t refuse. It was good enough for Neyo.

—

“What about Attack Formation 37?” Hunter asked.

Faie shook his head. “No, that’s a group formation. Still impressive, but more based on teamwork than individual strength.”

“Ooh, what if we asked him to demonstrate the right way to disable a weaponized flying probe droid?” Hunter’s dark eyes gleamed excitedly at the prospect.

Faie bit back a sigh. Hunter was a cadet, just a kid. Well, as much as any of the troopers could be considered children, anyway. These cadets in particular had been kept away from the others because of their mutations, which had led to them being far more mature in some ways and far less in others. 

Hunter had been a huge help when the ARCs-in-training were helping to take out the Separatist infiltrators around Kamino. Without Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, and Wrecker, it was likely the future ARCs wouldn’t have been able to fight off Ventress. They hadn’t managed to capture her before she fled the planet, but they had kept her from getting the Fett genetic sample or killing more people, which was a better outcome than anyone had expected.

That being said, Faie was beyond frustrated with the way Hunter was straying from the task at hand. Yes, he was suggesting ways that they could showcase Alpha’s competence and impress the administrator…but all of Hunter’s suggestions were far less focused on finding the most impressive moves and maneuvers and far more focused on having Alpha demonstrate all of the things that the cadet wanted to learn.

With infinite patience - or as close as he could manage, anyway - Faie said, “No, that won’t work the way we want it to, either. Flying droid intercepts almost always involve the use of a net gun, which is tricky, but ultimately looks unimpressive.”

Hunter nodded slowly. “Maybe Maneuver 63?”

“That might work…” Faie agreed, filled with relief about an idea that would be acceptable… if not for certain other factors that the cadet wouldn’t know about. “The only problem is that it needs a Z-6 rotary blaster and we don’t keep one of those around, not for practice purposes. By the time we found one, Alor would have probably lost interest or remembered something else she needs to work on.”

Hunter sighed, but froze before he could finish the exhale. “They’re coming-”

Alpha and the administrator stepped through the doors an instant later. Faie appreciated Hunter’s gifts, but that hadn’t been very much warning. “Don’t say anything. We’ll figure it out and try a different time.”

“Cabur’s happy and so is Alor,” Hunter hissed. “We won’t get a better time than this.”

As the couple crossed to where Faie and Hunter were standing, Alpha was clearly trying to ignore them both, but the administrator smiled and gave a small wave in their direction.

“Hello,” the administrator greeted. “What are you two doing today?”

“Trying to figure out a tricky maneuver,” Faie answered, but Hunter interrupted a moment later.

“Captain, what’s the best way to disable the memory stored in a commando droid?” the cadet asked.

Alpha’s brows shot upward, then furrowed as he gave Faie an unhappy look. “That’s the tricky maneuver, Faie? You should know that well enough from your training, soldier. C’mere, kid.” 

Faie did his best not to glare at Hunter as the cadet went to stand beside Alpha. “We’re gonna use Faie as our commando droid in this example. The memory storage is here.” Alpha’s fingertips connected roughly with Faie’s body-glove clad chest. “You’ll have to hit hard to get through the durasteel plating in the way. Your best bet is shooting it, aiming for the small maintenance panel here.”

Faie fought not to wince at the second hard prod to his chest. 

“I understand, sir,” Hunter said quickly.

“Good,” Alpha approved, sending Faie a dark look. “Faie, where is the memory storage in a B-1 battle droid?”

“In its head, sir,” Faie replied immediately, struck with an idea at the same time. “Maybe you should explain to Hunter how he would remove a B-1’s head by hand if it ever became necessary.”

Alpha’s frown deepened. “He’s a cadet. He would have to use tools - knowing him, a vibroknife would be his first choice.”

“I could use an explanation for when I’m fully-grown, sir,” Hunter told him, eyes brightening in the way they did when he sensed that he could learn something new and interesting. 

Alpha snorted. “Tell you what, kid: when you’re fully-grown, find me and I’ll show you then. Deal?”

“Yes, sir,” Hunter agreed.

“Faie.”

“Yes, sir?” Faie asked, a little surprised to be addressed again.

“By the end of the week, I want to see that you’ve logged at least two non-instruction hours on the droid component module.” Alpha crossed his arms over his chest and the administrator looked sympathetically at Faie.

“Yes, sir,” Faie agreed tiredly. 

Alpha nodded and left, the administrator by his side.

“So…” Hunter started hesitantly. “What maneuver were you thinking would work best?”

Faie shook his head. “Forget it, kid. I have two module hours to log.”

—

When he couldn’t sleep, Drift made a point of walking around Kamino’s training compound. 

There wasn’t much more he could learn from the area - after all, he had spent years mastering every subject and practice activity the Kaminoans could develop and throw at their cadets - but he enjoyed showing the Kaminoans that he could get inside. Their security measures were okay, for civilian stuff, but rudimentary considering that they had trained a literal army to do things like slice locks and break into high-security locations.

One night, Drift was walking through a darkened practice area - utterly lost in the mad tangle of sleepless thought - when a lurching fighter simulator almost crushed him.

It was a testament to his training that he even noticed it, soundless as it had been, but also that Drift was equally silent as he leapt out of the way and turned to study the machinery. It didn’t seem to be damaged or malfunctioning.

It was only then that he heard the slight gasp from inside, followed by a small laugh.

“Did I scare you?” a feminine voice asked, still bubbling with laughter.

A slightly shaking breath answered that, followed by the sound of Alpha's voice. “I’m not scared of much, neverd’ika, but your flying skills are… a challenge.”

An offended gasp. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I am the safest pilot I know!”

“On Coruscant?” Drift grinned at the way he could hear the captain’s raised eyebrow. “That planet has a higher number of speeder collisions than the total population of most planets. Just because you’re the safest pilot you know doesn’t mean you’re a safe pilot.”

“I’m an extremely safe pilot!” the administrator lectured, met by Alpha’s disbelieving snort. “I am! I’m just not used to flying military transport vehicles.”

“I know, that’s why we’re doing this,” Alpha reminded her.

She laughed again. “Alpha, I’m grateful you’re taking the time to do this, but honestly? If it ever comes down to a situation when I’m going to have to fly a military transport to live, I’m probably going to end up dying either way.”

“Not funny, little one,” Alpha growled.

Drift’s spine stiffened reflexively at that tone. The captain only used that voice when he was deathly serious about something… and there wasn’t an ARC trainee among them who didn’t listen when he did.

To his utter disbelief, she didn’t seem even slightly intimidated by the implicit threat in Alpha’s voice. “If you wanted funny, you should have caught me after a full night of sleep.”

“Yeah? When’s the last time you had one of those?”

She fell silent at that, and the quiet lasted long enough that even Drift got uncomfortable.

When the captain spoke again, it was with uncharacteristic gentleness. “It’ll get easier, neverd’ika. The nightmares fade.”

“So you tell me,” she agreed, her tone much less doubtful than the words would make it seem. “Well, since we’re awake, will you show me again how to fly this thing?”

“Yeah.”

When Drift engaged the lock on the practice cockpit, it was a half-hearted gesture at best, but one he made anyway. The simulator cockpits were small, but they were designed for a trainer and a cadet, so they boasted two seats. The locks on the simulators were flimsy and mass-produced, easy to break, and he started to leave the training area without a qualm when he heard the administrator speak.

“Wait, I- I thought I heard something. I’m going to check…” The door rattled, but not hard enough to snap the lock. Not yet, anyway. “We’re locked in. How did that happen?”

Alpha sighed. “That’s been happening a lot lately. Probably Drift.”

She laughed disbelievingly. “Drift? Alpha, you’ll find a way to blame him for anything.”

“And I’m not wrong,” Alpha grumbled. “Do you want me to break the lock? It’ll be easy enough.”

Drift’s tired muscles tensed, ready to launch into a full-speed run before they could leave the simulator and find him there.

The administrator eventually said, “I mean, there's no rush. I'm sure someone who can help us will be by soon. We’ll keep working on this, right?”

“As long as you want,” Alpha promised.

Drift left them to spend time in the two-seater simulation cockpit, grinning to himself when he heard they had been released from it the next morning when one of the instructors had found them sharing the small space as they slept beside each other.

—

“So, men,” Monnk started before the ARC training for the day had begun. “What progress has everyone made?”

“What progress have you made?” Drift countered. “I haven’t seen you around much.”

Monnk shrugged. “I’ve been doing little things here and there, but nothing too crazy. I don’t need the captain catching on.”

“None of us do,” Neyo affirmed. “Though some people could be doing more to distract the captain and keep his attention elsewhere.”

With that, he shot a glare at Bacara, who held up his hands in a palms-out gesture of innocence. “Hey, I’ve been doing plenty, especially for someone who isn’t really involved in any of this! Not my fault I’ve had to work harder keeping a certain cadet from sabotaging everyone else!”

“Cross, really?” Hunter asked, sounding exasperated, if not surprised. 

Crosshair shrugged. “No one wanted a betting system. I had to find some way to keep things interesting.”

That sent a generally dissatisfied murmur through the gathered ARCs-in-training and cadets, but no one seemed truly displeased.

“Well, all of my efforts turned bad,” Faie admitted.

“Mine, too,” Neyo agreed.

“A little progress for me, but not much,” Drift told them all.

Monnk sighed, rubbing at the space between his eyebrows. “Well, I think that settles it, then. We’ve done everything we can for them and it’s either worked or it hasn’t. They’ll just have to come to terms with their feelings on their own.”

“So we’re just going to stay out of everything?” Bacara asked carefully.

“Oh, kriff that!” Wrecker said. “We have to know what happens!”

“Definitely,” Neyo agreed with a decisive nod. “We’ll keep tabs on things, but no more interfering. Agreed?”

Everyone agreed, some more hesitantly than others, but the feeling of tension releasing was strong in the ARC training area. Whatever happened between Alor and Cabur happened, but it wouldn’t be directly caused by any of the cadets or future ARCs. 

It was something of a relief to all of them. War was easy, but romance? That was tricky, something best left to the professionals.

Whether Alpha could be considered one of those professionals remained to be seen.

---

Author's Note - someone suggested this, and I'm pretty sure it was an anonymous ask, but I'm not 100% on it. Whoever you are, just know that your suggestion completely took over my brain! I hope you enjoyed your gigantic bonus chapter!

You can find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here.

There was a beat of silence - something you would guess didn’t happen often around Drift. You refused to give him the satisfaction of looking his way, but you could see his reflection in one of the datapads lying on your desk. One of the many datapads, holding the veritable stack of work you had to do. Too much work to fixate on the mixture of offense and amusement that tangled together in his expression.

CT-6476, or ‘Drift’, had been a pain in the ass since the first time he had stepped into the small office. Actually, from what you gathered from the other departments, he had been a pain in the ass long before then, but you hadn’t had to witness it. He had made his way through the GAR headquarters here on Coruscant like a whirlwind, leaving a chaotic mess behind him. He pestered, he begged, he charmed… whatever he had to do to get what he wanted. He had even managed to pull rank with one of the administrators. You didn’t know what moron approved Drift for ARC training, but you had a few choice words for them if you ever crossed paths.

“You’ve got a bit of a backbone on you, huh?” Drift asked eventually. “I like that.”

“I’m going to ask one more time,” you warned him. “In the context of this armory and the GAR-sanctioned activities that take place here, what do you want?”

After a long moment of carefully studying your expression, Drift seemed to find your utter lack of flexibility and willingness to put up with his nonsense in your expression. With a short nod, he revealed, “I want access to an ACPA gun.”

You fought the unprofessional urge to snort at that. Accelerated Charged Particle Array guns were expensive, useful for very specific circumstances, and dangerous even when compared to the other weapons used by the GAR. “You’re an ARC trooper, Drift. You have no need of an ACPA.”

“You haven’t even listened to my reasons!” he complained.

“Fine,” you agreed evenly, crossing your arms over your chest. “Convince me that you need access to an ACPA and I’ll sign one out to you.”

Drift’s eyes widened greedily and he hurriedly started his explanation, ticking points off on his fingers as he spoke. “It’s a good close-quarters weapon, and most of my missions fit that description. The ACPA works similarly to the ACP Repeater, but at a slower rate of fire, which isn’t a problem for me. It doesn’t work well in long-range missions, but it tends to disable a target in one shot, which is always helpful on ARC missions. ACPAs are also better for use against shields, which, again, I come across fairly often. Finally, the commandos get to use them and it’s not fair that I can’t.”

You stared at Drift and the stupid smile he sent you with the last point, as if you were meant to be charmed by his childishness. “Request denied.”

“You didn’t even-”

“ACPAs are good close-range weapons for organics, not droids,” you told him, ticking his points on your fingers just as he had done. “The vast majority of ARC missions have droid targets, so that makes no sense. The comparison against ACP Repeater rates of fire is empty, since you’re also not cleared to use an ACP. If you did happen to get an assignment where the target was an organic, those missions are to retrieve the target. Your commander would be the one to order a kill and they would either have the correct weapon or a close-range shot from a DC-15 would have the same effect. If you needed to disable a shield, there are other methods less likely to result in a ricochet casualty. Finally, I don’t care what commandos get to do. The fact that mentioning them was part of your argument makes me feel like I should pull all of your weapons proficiencies, not add a new one to your list.”

Drift was gaping openly at you now. “But- That isn’t- I-”

“Feel free to submit the necessary forms,” you told him, pulling up the required document with a few easy swipes on the nearest datapad before shoving it in his direction. “But I can tell you now that the only thing it will get you is an electronic record of the request’s denial.”

Drift’s face was something you would treasure for quite some time - a combination of frustration and disbelief. But he smoothed it over in a moment and you carefully noted the facial control.

With an easy shrug and a smile he clearly meant to be charming, Drift said, “Maybe an expert needs to fill out the forms for them to be considered valid.”

And you watched in shock as he slid the datapad back toward you. You laughed, and the sound managed to be both surprised and derisive. “Are you seriously asking me to fill out the forms for you so that I can deny them when I submit them to myself?”

Drift didn’t answer that, just gave you a hopeful smile.

You shook your head. “Maybe it looks like I don’t have much to do here,” you started sarcastically, gesturing expansively to your large datapad collection, “but I assure you that I would rather not use my working hours to do things that are an utter waste of my time.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Drift urged, apparently deciding that turning up the charm was his best bet. He raked fingers through his carefully cut hair, obviously flexing his bicep as he did so. “Surely there’s something you can do to help me? I do return favors, you know. And I return them any way you choose.”

“Is this how you flirt with everyone?” you asked, lip curling in disgust.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Drift admitted shamelessly.

You heaved a sigh. “It’s amazing your success rates are as high as they are.”

Drift’s eyes sharpened and a delighted grin spread across his face. Just as you were internally cursing yourself for the slip, he said, “Now, how would you happen to know so much about my success rates? Unless, of course, you really are interested in… working with me. So to speak.”

His waggling eyebrows spoke loudly enough and you really did roll your eyes that time. “Request denied, Drift. All of your requests are denied. Get out.”

“Sure,” Drift agreed easily, stepping toward the door. Just before he actually exited your office, he glanced back over his shoulder and grinned at you, eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief. “But I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

He was gone before you could decide if that was a threat or a promise.

Either way, it wasn’t a lie. Drift did indeed see you shortly after that - the next day, in fact.

You were trying to muddle through the mess that the second- and third-shift supervisors had made. The armory was always manned by someone, but you seemed to be the only one who understood how to file forms correctly. You always had to spend at least the first two hours of your day working to fix their mistakes, which was an extra challenge considering that your shift was by far the busiest in the armory.

“If it isn’t my best friend!” a voice greeted from your doorway.

Instantly, your shoulders shot toward your ears. “Drift, if this is about the ACPA again-”

“It isn’t,” he reassured, and you relaxed slightly despite yourself. “This is about me telling you we’re going on a date tonight.”

At last, you glanced up at him. Drift was standing in front of your desk, looking fully confident in everything from his posture to his smile. It irked you deeply and you took a moment to breathe through the irritation.

“Why would I agree to that?”

“Well, you’re incredible and I’m fantastic,” he explained as you tried to fight off the thousand-yard stare you could feel taking over your face. “Together, we’d be even better. You deserve me.”

That almost made your vision fade a little bit at the edges. “I don’t know what I could have done that was bad enough for that kind of galactic punishment.”

Drift scoffed. “It’ll be fun. I’ll grow on you.”

“I don’t have the funds for that kind of medical bill,” you sniped.

Laughing despite himself, Drift said, “C’mon, I’ll win you over in the end. You and me. Tonight. Maybe seven-thirty?”

“Sure, but I’ll be a little late,” you breezed, noting the look of satisfaction on Drift’s face from your apparent agreement to his date proposal. “I have to wait for something and then I’ll meet up with you.”

“Wait for what?” Drift asked, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion. “And I didn’t tell you where-”

“I have to wait for the population of Coruscant to drop down to single digits,” you revealed. “And then probably another few months to scavenge up something to wear.”

“Okay, that’s-”

“Of course, we’ll have to worry about the wild, post-apocalyptic beasts that will wander the rusted wasteland of Republic City. And that’s assuming the apocalyptic event wasn’t something that would be dangerous in itself, because I’m not sure I could make a haz-mat suit formal enough for any half-decent restaurant-”

By the time you had finished musing over the options for accessorizing a haz-mat suit without weighing yourself down in the event of a running escape from post-apocalyptic beasts, Drift had left your office.

…But only for roughly the span of one day.

The next day, he actually managed to knock on the door to your office. You, stupidly enough, assumed it couldn’t possibly be Drift on the other side of your door since he had never displayed any sort of manners, and you invited him in.

Drift stood wearing his dress uniform. His hair was neatly combed, and the designs cut into his hair seemed freshly redone. He was holding a small container of candy - a type you highly enjoyed, though you weren’t sure if that was due to an accident or careful reconnaissance - and a small potted plant.

“Hello,” he greeted, and you stared at him in shock.

When you could finally remember how to form words, you said, “I didn’t know you knew how to greet someone.”

“They taught us a few manners in ARC training,” Drift joked with a casual shrug.

"You buried them well," you told him. "What do you need today?"

"I need you to go on a date with me," Drift replied seriously.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Why are you so insistent on this all of a sudden?"

"Because I've figured you out," Drift explained, looking pleased with himself. "You're strong and intense, like black caf. You need something smooth and sweet to even you out."

"I like my caf black," you told him.

"And I don't like caf at all," he replied. "See? It's perfect! We would balance each other out."

"I like being bitter and off-putting," you said. "It saves me time."

"Maybe, but I think you're like this because you have to be," Drift mused, studying you. "You weren't always so harsh."

The insightful comment shook you to your core… and that made you cranky. "What do you want, Drift? Get to the point and get out."

"The point?" Drift paused for a moment, and you could see the struggle between sincerity and attempted charm raging across his face. In the end, the charm won out. "The point is, I don't know if I can survive another minute without knowing that you have feelings for me, too."

"I guess you'll have to find out. Best of luck for your continued survival." Your clipped statement was merciless, and Drift left without another word.

You felt a little bad when you realized that he had left the candy and plant behind, but you chalked that up to frustration about the forms you had yet to fix, but you couldn't stop yourself from glancing over at Drift's abandoned presents.

He was back again the next day, knocking politely at your door. You were wary of anyone with manners now, though, and skeptically called for the person to come in.

Drift stepped inside under your watchful gaze. The amount of attention you were paying meant you noticed the way Drift's eyes lit on the candy and plant from the day before, an expression of mild disappointment crossing his face for a moment before he smoothed it into a neutral mask once more.

"I see you didn't like the stuff I brought you," he said, gesturing vaguely to the plant and candy.

You glanced at them, too. "I don't take presents if I don't know where they came from."

"They came from me," Drift reminded, smiling a little when you made a face at him. "Fine. One of my nattie officers felt bad for me and helped me buy some stuff for you."

"You harassed someone into giving you money?" you asked, trying to shove away the sympathy and… warmth that rose in you with that realization. He hadn't even taken them with him. He could have tried to get his credits back. Well, not his credits, but still…

"I harassed someone into helping me show you how much I appreciate you," Drift countered.

"Why would you appreciate me?" you asked, letting your frustration leak into your voice. "We have literally never had a positive interaction. All I do is insult you and turn down your attempts at getting access to an ACPA."

"Not quite true, is it?" Drift asked. "I haven't tried to get an ACPA since the first time we met. What you keep turning down are my attempts to get you to go out with me."

You wanted to argue with that, but after you thought about it for a moment, you had to admit that Drift was right. He hadn't asked about the weapon since your first meeting.

"I… guess you're right about that," you eventually agreed. "Well, go ahead and make your normal request, then. I have to get back to work."

Drift eyed you with a knowing smile. "I don't think I will," he said at last. "Have a good day."

And then he turned to leave as you watched, frowning. At the last moment, you called, "At least take your stuff back."

For the first time in several days, Drift seemed almost offended. "I bought them for you. If you don't want them, that's fine. But they're yours. I won't take them back from you."

And then he was gone.

You had planned to take a three day weekend and knew the plant had no hope of surviving until then. None of the others who used the office would bother to water it. And you certainly weren't going to leave them the candy to enjoy on your behalf. You did your best not to think of Drift outside of working hours, but you couldn't help the image of him that appeared with every bite of candy, or the way you thought of his voice every time you looked at the now-thriving plant.

By the time you went back to work, you had gotten three days of rest and relaxation. You were ready for whatever your job could throw your way - weapons damages, inept coworkers, flirty troopers… anything.

At least, you had thought so before you caught a glimpse of the disaster of the forms that had been 'completed' during your time off.

Drift appeared right as you were letting out a string of cathartic curses in Huttese.

When you had finished, he lifted a single eyebrow, looking impressed. "I didn't know you were multi-lingual."

“Stick around a little longer and you’ll get to hear even more,” you told him, tossing a datapad to the desk in outright disgust.

“Is that an invitation?” he teased.

You glared at him, a venomous retort springing to the tip of your tongue, but you sighed instead, scrubbing at your eyes. “I really don’t have the energy for this today, Drift. Not from you. Please, if you don’t need something from the armory, would you just leave? I have so much to do, I could scream.”

“Whoa, really?” Drift asked, and you would have berated him for asking dumb questions if he didn’t sound so concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? I know you’ve been gone the past few days…”

You shot him a suspicious look, but relented, massaging your temples as you started your explanation. “I took a three-day weekend. Big deal, right? People do it all the time. But what I forgot to take into account was the fact that the other two managers for this office don’t actually do their work. It’s bad on a normal day when I have to come in and fix the forms for the two other shifts. Weekends are particularly bad. But this?”

You could see Drift frowning in your peripheral vision as you made another irritated noise. You had hoped that talking about it would make you feel better, even if just a little bit. Instead, you were struck anew by how unfair it all was. Why were you doing the work of three people and only getting paid to do your own? Simple: because you were the idiot who cared. If you didn’t check, fix, and resubmit forms, the armory’s inventory would be off, and then the troopers wouldn’t have access to the things they needed when they needed them. You refused to let that happen, but working this hard all the time was starting to kill you.

Suddenly, you were uncomfortably aware of the silence in the office. Normally, silence was a rare treat, but this one was loaded with tension.

Keeping your eyes away from Drift's, you gave the most careless laugh you could muster. "But it's fine. If I don't do it, no one will. It's my own fault that's not an option for me."

"Why isn't anyone else doing their work?" Drift asked, his voice tight and displeased.

You had never seen him truly upset before, and you couldn't keep your eyes from flying to his face. He looked as angry as he sounded, but also, he was looking at you like he expected an answer.

"Lack of training? Lack of experience? Lack of caring?" You shrugged. "Could be any. All. Who knows? I'm just… tired of being tired."

"Why do you care so much about this?" Drift asked. The question would have sounded accusatory if not for the genuine curiosity in his voice.

"I… can't explain it," you hedged, and he didn't press for you to go on. Instead, he just sat quietly and waited for you to say something. "I can't fight in the war. I can't do anything that directly impacts the troopers or the battles. All I can do is the work I've been given to do. So I do it well. It isn't much of a contribution to the war effort, but it's all I can offer."

"It's a huge contribution," Drift argued, and you looked sharply at him, suspicious that he was mocking you. He seemed sincere, hard as it was for you to believe that. "It's more than most people outside of the GAR do for the war effort."

You nodded, feeling the sting of an empty reassurance. Drift didn't seem willing to let that stand.

"Hey, I'm serious," he told you, stepping just beside your desk and crouching down to catch your eye. "Just because you work with a bunch of… lazy people… doesn't mean that the work you do is less important. It's probably even more important, because no one else would even catch that there was a problem."

Despite yourself, you smiled at Drift's last-minute edit of whatever he had been about to call your coworkers, and found yourself smiling even after he had finished his little speech.

"Thank you, Drift," you said, surprised by the flood of gratitude you were feeling. "It means a lot."

"Just- stop being so hard on yourself," Drift urged, awkwardly giving your knee a pat. "The universe is gonna do enough of that. Don't give it any more help than it already has."

You smiled even more broadly at him, but cut it off to heave a sigh. Under Drift's quizzical stare, you pulled out a datapad and pulled up a form. It took less than two minutes to input all of the necessary information, then you slid the datapad over to Drift.

The trooper studied the datapad for a long moment, frowning at the displayed document. Eventually, he asked, "What is this?"

"A completed form, giving you access to an ACPA gun." There were about a hundred qualifying statements you had built into the form, but you felt like that would cheapen the gesture somewhat. You didn't often make grand gestures, and you wanted to do it right.

But it seemed that you hadn't.

Drift set the datapad on your desk so that both of you could see the screen, then carefully and deliberately deleted the form.

"Thank you, but no. I don't want access to an ACPA," he explained slowly.

"But…" you struggled to gather your shocked thoughts. "That's what you wanted from the beginning. You have no other reason to be here."

"That's not what this is about. Not anymore," Drift said. "I think you're amazing and I want a chance to get to know you better. Also, I checked out an ACPA four hours after we spoke the first time."

The beginning of Drift's declaration had shocked you so badly that the last part took a moment to filter through. But when it did… "Wait, what?"

He grimaced. "You weren't kidding about the other two supervisors not doing their forms. One of 'em bypassed the security protocols as soon as I mentioned that I'm an ARC."

"I'm gonna kill them," you growled decisively. "Both of them."

"Well, before you go to prison, will you please agree to go out with me?" Drift asked.

"Answer one question for me first," you commanded. "Was all of this some weird ego trip for you? Am I just a challenge?"

"No… no! Of course you aren't!" Drift denied, then heaved a sigh. "I can't lie - one of the things that first caught my interest was when you asked if I flirted that way with everyone. No one has ever called me out quite that bluntly before. And I liked it. You're tough and you don't take any osik from people. So, yeah, that may have been part of it at the beginning, but… I dunno. I got to know you a little more. And especially today. Every time we meet, I learn more about you and I want to keep it up. Good enough?"

Your proverbial hackles tried to rise at his final question, but he hadn't said it disrespectfully. It was said in a nervous, hopeful way instead, and you gave a slow nod.

"Yeah, that's good enough. Dinner, tonight? My treat."

"Sounds great," Drift agreed, beaming. "Especially it being your treat. I'm out of credits."

You rolled your eyes, laughing at the same time. Drift bounded to his feet, kissed the top of your head, and left you to your work.

---

A/N - I'm still trying to nail down Drift's personality, so this may be terribly OOC at some point, but I like how it turned out now. Thanks for reading!

Requests are currently closed, but you can find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist!