#og bad batch

Tech does have his goggles but I was lazy lol. Also yes, Hunter is missing his bandana skull, my b.

~*****~

Hunter’s whisper crackled through Crosshair’s comm. “Everyone in position?” 

“Ready for the signal,” Crosshair replied before adjusting his weight. “Think you can do this, sweetheart?”

I snorted. “Think you can hold on, Twiggy?”

The sniper lightly kicked my sides. 

“Quit that ‘fore I buck your bendaroo ass off,” I growled, but grinned over my shoulder at him. He flicked my nose and in return I snapped my teeth at him.

“Hello, friends!” Trevor said, voice carrying across the field. 

I tucked my legs under me as Crosshair gripped my mane tighter. Adjusting his weight, heels digging into my sides behind my forelimbs, he wrapped his legs around my chest best he could and tucked his elbows in. 

One of the droids, a B1 at the front of the horde, held up a hand.  “Halt!” 

Trevor stopped, raising his hands. “Something I can help you with?” he asked, tail flicking side to side. 

“We received a tip that clones had been spotted here!”

“Clones!” Trevor gasped. “How awful!” 

I snorted. “Ham.”

“How many of those horrid troopers should we be on the lookout for?”

“A commando squadron of four and a fighter with a furry tail.”

“A commando squad? Dreadful!” 

“Dramatic, isn’t he?” Crosshair muttered. 

I rolled my eyes. “Knows how to play his part.”

“Enough games!” The B1 turned to another droid. “Sergeant, take this civilian in for questioning!” 

“Wait!” Trevor said. “I have one thing to say first.”

“What?”

“Kids Next Door…”

Memories upon memories, episodes upon episodes, flashed through my head. So many characters. So many adventures. I loved the Clone Wars, but even it lost first place to Codename: KND. And Trevor’s signal…

I knew it by heart. 

Lean but strong arms wrapped possessively around me, holding on tight with no indication of letting go any time soon. A steady heartbeat against my ear. A lean but muscular chest slowly rising and falling with steady, even breaths that tickled my hair. The smell of gun oil, aftershave, and that odd hint of lavender tobacco that never went away. 

The chest I slept on belonged to none other than the marksman of Clone Force 99. 

I slowly drug myself out of sleep and into a state of semi-consciousness, everything from the day before rushing back.

The jungle. The teleportation. The battle. The Outpost. 

James.

While the overwhelming support from my new team banished most of the immediate horror following that gruesome first kill, the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach remained. Bothersome, yet also somewhat welcome. Proof that I remained human and had not turned into some animal driven by the need for revenge and revenge alone. I still possessed a conscience.  

Hopefully that hollow feeling would go away soon, though. I didn’t need the Batch thinking they needed to treat me like glass that would shatter if they so much as looked at it wrong. 

Definitely something to discuss later.

Later. 

Excitement swelled in my chest despite the less than cheery topic. That’s right, I could discuss it later with the Batch. Because I was here. With them. As a member of the team. I was a member of my favorite clone squadron! Not only that but their significant other too! I loved them and they loved me back! Been a while since that had happened. 

Hopeless this relationship wouldn’t turn sour as all my others had. 

Also, bruh, has my hair changed yet again???

Ah, whatever. That was hardly the first time my hair turned colors. The shorter length was a first, however. 

Saves me a haircut. 

Muscles stiff from sleep, I tried sitting up to stretch so I could start this new day with my boys. But someone, apparently, had other plans. 

What I could only describe as a growl erupted from the sniper’s throat as he pulled me in tighter, squishing my cheek against his chest. 

I honestly had no idea if he was awake or not, but it didn’t matter. It took so long to get him to drop his guard and get possessive like this. So many harsh wake-up calls and near-death experiences. So much time, effort, and even downright agony. On more than one occasion.

I was gonna treasure every soft moment with the sniper and nobody was gonna stop me. 

Purring softly, I snuggled closer into that warm embrace and the tense arms around me relaxed as he realized I wasn’t going anywhere. “Mornin’, Twiggers,” I chirped.

Verbally I received nothing more than a grunt, but the sniper did nuzzle the top of my head before planting a soft kiss to my hairline. 

Warmth sparked in my chest and raced outwards towards my fingers and toes. I loved Snarky Sniper Man, yes, but in chill settings I adored Tender Twiggy. Especially since I was one of the few people who got to see it, and probably the only person outside his squadmates. Made his love that much sweeter.

I slipped my arms around him best I could in our position. “Never pegged you for bein’ so snuggly,” I mumbled into his chest.

Another unintelligible mutter as he pulled me in closer, lean fingers stroking my back. “Mornin to you too, Furball.”

Damn, that mornin’ voice of his is hot.

A shiver ran through me at the lazy drawl, prompting a chuckle. “Like my voice?” he purred, opening his eyes only to bite his lip with a smile. “Kark.”

I frowned. “What?”

“Sith spit, they… your pupils.” He stumbled over his words, barely repressing laughs. “They’re huge.”

Right, cat genes. 

Even in this human form… 

No, I shifted at some point during the night, taking up half the bunk with my tail jammed against the wall near our feet and curling over my back. Huh. Continuity was on the fritz again it seemed. First my hair, then my form. Great.

Back to Crosshair: my sniper was losing it.

Head falling back against the pillow, he covered his mouth to withhold the laughs shaking his body. Snorts and wheezes escaped his hand, the sounds just so absurd I almost started laughing too. 

“Of all the things to send you into a laughing fit,” I exclaimed. “My eyes did you in?”

“You… sith karkin’ hells, you look ridiculous,” he managed. 

Ah yes. Affectionate bullying. My favorite part of relationships.

“Take that hand off, wanna hear some Crosshair chuckles,” I teased, pawing at his wrist.

“No,” he retorted, still laughing as he tried to fend off my attack with his free hand.

“Just one giggle!”

“Kriff off!”

I snorted and laid my chin on his chest. “You’re a mess, Twiggy.”

Bringing himself under control, he replied, “Your mess.”

A smile broke across my face. “Yes. My messy, messy Twiggy.”

His eyes met mine, a sleepy yet loving smile tugging his lips as he hummed affirmatively. “Won't trade it for the galaxy.” He eyed my hair. “Even if your hair is part chameleon.”

Did they even have chameleons in a galaxy far far away? 

Not important. 

“Should get you talkin’ when you’re sleepy more often,” I remarked. “Super affectionate.”

He blinked slowly at me. “Problem?”

I hugged him tightly, wiggling around under the covers so I laid on top of him. “Hell no. I love Soft Cross,” I replied, voice half muffled by his blacks. “It’s so nice inside your shields. I’d just like to be in here more often.”

“Tryin’, sweetheart.” A hand stroked my head. “Isn’t easy.”

“Bein’ vulnerable is a risky move, I agree.” I lifted my head. “But I’d never hurt you.”

Not when it took me so damn long to build your trust. I’m not betraying that for anything.

“And I will never hurt you again.” He held me closer. “Promise.”

“Believe ya, Twigs.” I nuzzled under his chin and laughed softly at the stubble scratching my face. “Scruffy.”

“Like it?”

“Love my men rugged.” I hugged him tightly. “But with hearts of gold.”

“Not the most lustrous gold nugget.”

“Gold nugget?” I snickered, bracing my hands on either side of his shoulders and lifting myself up. “Gonna make me crack up next.”

“What a shame to hear that laugh again,” he teased.

That got me laughing again. “Besides, I don’t want perfection anyway,” I replied after getting the giggles under control. “I want y’all.”

Wait, is that offensive?

A hum told me that, thankfully, Crosshair took it the right way. “Glad to hear it, Furball,” he replied, tucking an arm behind his head as another rested on my back above my tail.

I smiled back. My eyes traveled from his lips to that unique tattoo over his right eye, the dark lines matching the dark red and black shaved undersides of his hair but standing out in stark contrast with the shaggy sliver-white hair atop his head. Oh, how I wanted to trace that tattoo. 

“See somethin’?” he asked softly as I continued to stare.

My hand lifted and I cautiously reached for his face. “Can I…?”

His brow raised before it dawned on him what I meant. The smugness evaporated, uncertainty taking its place, and he nodded slowly. 

My fingertips barely skimmed his face before I withdrew. 

What if I was making him too uncomfortable? What if he was just letting me do this because he was overcompensating again with affection in fear that telling me no would trigger another Shatterpoint? Given the trauma we both underwent, it wasn’t entirely implausible.

However, the marksman gently rested a hand over mine and slowly, steadily, guided me back to the rifle sight over his eye. “Go on,” he whispered.

I blinked in surprise, but traced the thin lines. Aside from the lines of the tattoo, which was quite a bit rougher than Hunter’s, his skin was… oddly smooth for a soldier. Again, his youthfulness compared to his canon self caught me off guard. Knowing this was the age of men dying by the thousands on distant battlefields with no home to call their own while pompous politicians threw them away like they were nothing?

Jarring, and enraging, to say the least.

His brow furrowed. “Sweetheart?”

I realized my hand was trembling under his. “You look so young. All of you do. I knew you were all in your twenties but the animation made you look at least a decade older. Now, in this universe at least, I see how young you guys really are. It’s…”

“Unsettlin’?” he murmured, squeezing my hand. 

Horrifying.

I smiled sadly, pain rippling through my chest as death after death after death flashed through my head. “Yeah.”

A low hum from the sniper. “If you’re gonna fight in the war, sweetheart, need to accept that people may die and there’s nothin’ you can do.”

There was the blunt and ruthlessly honest Crosshair I knew. There was no sugarcoating anything when it came to this man. He was right, yes, but even so, I didn’t like failure. It was failure, not ghosting, that made up a majority of my nightmares. Failing classes. Failing to achieve a task. Failing to escape. Failing to protect myself. Failing to protect someone else…

Nothing terrorized me worse than failure.  

But I didn’t have to accept failure here. I was a Realm Walker. A god. Near-limitless power at my fingertips, power that would only increase the more I practiced with it. And if I decided to go full tilt and become an Acolyte? No one, not even Darth Sideous himself, could stop me. 

“We’ll see about that,” I muttered.

His eyes narrowed. “No more body-shield stunts.”

My ears twitched. “Says who?” I asked, tone sharper than usual. 

The hand holding mine tightened, pulling me back down to the sniper’s chest. “Says me.” Despite the flirtatious tone, those dark eyes were deadly serious. “Not losin’ you.”

“Don’t worry,” I assured the man. “I’m not going anywhere for a while.” My stomach growled and we looked down. “Ok, maybe Imma go get breakfast,” I remarked, earning an amused snort. “Whatchy’all got for vittles?”

“How about you love-birds come in and find out?” Hunter called from the main compartment.

 Crosshair’s smug look vanished, replaced by a scowl. “Tch, jealous womp-rat.”

“Heard that.”

Fighting down a laugh, I reached up and ran my fingers through the sniper’s silver hair. Wonder why it doesn’t have the same curl as Hunter’s. “C’mon, ram’ser. Plenty of time for fun later.”

That smirk instantly returned. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

I grinned and winked at him before hopping out of bed and onto a towel somebody had thankfully laid on the cool floor. “Good, now let’s go, I’m hungry,” I said, stretching.

“You’re always hungry,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he joined me.

I elbowed him, earning a playful swat to the back of the head. We lightly sparred for a moment, me getting a few hits to the ribs and the sniper jabbing my stomach, before breaking apart with soft laughs. Then, right as I reached for the door button, he grabbed my arm. 

“Want your back cracked?” he whispered. 

I grinned and matched his tone. “What kinda question is that?”

He gave me a sly grin. “Turn around and cross your arms in front of you,” he ordered quietly, tugging me into place. 

Nothing like being manhandled by the sardonic sniper of Clone Force 99.

Did I have a manhandling kink? Maybe. Honestly, wouldn’t surprise me. Certainly something to explore with three of the Batchers. I highly doubted they’d say no to some frolic anyways, especially Hunter and Crosshair. 

Last book was angst galore. Time for shenanigans and downright filthy smut. Last and final warning to all. Disney ain’t in control here, you best believe I’m gonna go full rated R.  

“Ready?” the marksman whispered in my ear, sending volts down my spine. When I nodded enthusiastically, leaning back into him, he chuckled. “Excited, I see.”

“Just do the thing, Snipe.”

“As you command, darlin’.” 

He wrapped his arms around me and leaned back, lifting me off the ground. A symphony of cracks filled the air and the sound that came out of me was… not PG. 

There was a loud thump as someone slammed their fist into the door controls from the other side. The doors whooshed open to reveal Hunter, hair curling in all different directions as he glared at us. However, seeing our position, my arms crossed over my chest and Crosshair behind me with his own arms still wrapped around mine, the sergeant’s grouchy expression changed to flustered.

“Oh. Thought-”

“Thought what?” Crosshair taunted, and I could just hear his smug grin. 

Wrecker looked over Hunter’s shoulder and his face fell. “Aw, I was gonna offer to pop Squeaky’s back!” he whined. 

“What am I, a Rice Krispie treat?” I exclaimed, arms still over my chest. 

“What’s that?” Wrecker asked, head tilting to the side.

“I’ll try to find a picture after we unfreeze this frame,” I chirped, wiggling out of Crosshair’s grip. Ducking under Hunter’s arm, I barely had time to brace myself before the team tank crashed into me with a tight hug. 

“Mornin’!” he laughed, lifting me into the air and spinning us around.

“Mornin’!” I coughed and kicked my feet, arms pinned to my sides. “Air and ground, please!”

He laughed and set me down before sweeping his hand to indicate the table between the weapons locker and monitor. “Sarge let us break out the waffles!” 

I glanced behind me. “What’s the occasion?”

“First shipboard meal with our newest member,” he replied, flustered-ness fading away although he still gave Crosshair a dark look. “And we’re resupplyin’ on the way to your planet, so may as well eat the old stuff before we get new.” 

“Will you be accompanying them?” Tech asked from the couch, looking up from his datapad. The ship must have been on autopilot. 

My tail twitched. “Will… probably stay here. Need to ease into new planets and crowds.”

Tech looked at Hunter. “Told you.”

Questioning whether to be irked or not, I shrugged and let it go. Before I could get to the table, Tech tossed a hairbrush my way. 

I squinted at him. “That bad, huh?”

“No worse than Hunter’s,” Tech said with a smile.

“Heard that,” Hunter grumbled yet again. 

“Your mutation still works, then,” Tech sassily replied.

Crosshair came to my side. “Allow me.”

“Food first, then beauty salon simulator,” I snorted, shooing him away and stowing the hairbrush in my pocket. 

“Why am I always the butt of all the vanity jokes around here?” Hunter huffed.

I sent a grin his way. “Aw, is Sergeant Shaggy offended? Poor baby!”

Intense brown eyes narrowed and the commando stalked up to me. “You, darlin’, are playin’ with fire.”

I waved my hands in mock terror. “Ooo, I’m sha-”

Hunter pinned me against the wall, grabbing my hip as his leg wedged itself between mine. “Careful mouthin’ off,” he warned, raising my chin. “My promise from the loft still stands.”

Promise? What promise…

Oh.

I glanced sideways at the other commandos. “Help?” I squeaked.

Wrecker chuckled while Crosshair sent a sly grin my way. “He did warn you.”

“Thank you, corporal,” Hunter said, not moving his eyes from mine.

My ears flattened and I curled in on myself, lowering my gaze from the sergeant’s. “C’mon, was just playin’.” The moment Hunter’s grip eased, I swept his leg out from under him and sent him tumbling backwards. Pouncing on him, I sat on his chest and grinned. “Bamboozled, bitch!”

As Wrecker roared with laughter, slapping his leg, Hunter gaped up at me. “That’s cheatin’.”

“If you use your flirty tactics, I can use my underestimation ones!”

Hands grabbed my hips and jerked me sideways. Swinging a leg over me, Hunter quickly reversed our positions. “Flirty tactics?” 

“I said what I said,” I snickered, swatting at his dark curls. “And you’re lucky I ain’t awake enough yet to give you a flyin’ lesson.”

“Uh huh, that’s the reason you haven’t removed me.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, sergeant?” I snorted. 

A finger poked my nose. “You like havin’ me on top of you.”

“Well, I have mentioned I’m into role reversal. Since I’m usually the one bestin’ you, makes sense I like the view from down here.”

“Oh, you are goin’ to get it later.”

My stomach growled again, louder than before.

“Lemme get viddles first,” I said, whacking him in the head with my tail. 

The sergeant atop my hips grinned darkly. “I know exactly what I want to eat, and none of it is on that table.”

I flushed redder than the streaks of paint on their armor and bit my lip. 

Oh hellfire. 

“Save your lustful escapades until after we eat, please,” Tech growled at both of us. 

“They started it!” Hunter and I said in unison, pointing at each other. 

Tech just rolled his eyes as Wrecker cracked up again.

Helping me off the floor, Hunter wrapped an arm around my back and pulled me close. “I would like a kiss, Icy, if you’re so obliged.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, I nevertheless gave the sergeant what he asked for.

I am so glad morning breath isn’t a thing in fanfics. 

Or morning wood for that matter. Because if it was, Richard would have certainly made an appearance when I sat on Crosshair’s waist earlier. 

Breaking the kiss, I twisted from his grip and quickly slid into the seat beside Wrecker before I could get accosted by another horny commando. “Pass me a plate.”

Crosshair, sitting across from me, slid a plate my way but yoinked a piece of what I assumed was space bacon off of it first. 

I glared at him. “Hey! Remember what I said about my plate not being a socialist state?”

He held it out between his index and middle finger. “Come get it, Furball.”

Narrowing my eyes, I tried to snatch it from him only for the sniper to quickly pull it away. 

“Ah ah ah,” he teased, smirking. “No hands.”

“I am not letting you feed me, you kinky bastard,” I snorted.

“It’ll be fun,” he hummed in a sing-song tone, waving the strip in front of my nose. 

“You, sir, are a menace,” I retorted, yet I couldn’t hide the smile spread across my face. 

Hellfire, had I missed this banter.

“Perhaps,” Crosshair purred. “But you aren’t in a position to negotiate-”

A quick telekinetic yoink and the bacon was mine once more. “Aw, forget I could do that?” I asked with false sympathy as Crosshair stared at his empty fingers.

“Hmph, that’s my resourceful Furball,” he chuckled, then squinted at the Night Hunter as it scuttled across the table and tapped on his hand. “What do you want?”

“I’m gonna guess food,” I remarked around the space bacon, eyeing the critter. 

I’d almost forgotten about the little menace. 

“C’mere, little guy!” Wrecker coaxed, holding out some bacon. 

The Night Hunter turned and looked at the offered food. It stared for a moment before ignoring Wrecker and tapping again on Crosshair’s hand. 

The large clone’s face fell. “What… what’s wrong with me?” He looked at me for help. “Squeak, what do they eat? Did I feed it the wrong thing?

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s probably just wanting food from the one it imprinted on.”

“A logical conclusion,” Tech chirped, still sitting on the couch. “It would stand to reason that a young hatchling would want food from its primary caregiver.” He squinted at Crosshair. “Although choosing you is quite ironic, given that you are the least nurturing of us all.”

Crosshair’s subtle flinch was not lost to me, but I kept quiet as Hunter slid into the space beside me. I wiggled my shoulders, elbowing Hunter in the side as the sergeant squished me between himself and Wrecker. “Hey! Quit crowdin’!”

“Ah, sorry, cyar’ika,” Hunter chuckled, scooting even closer. “Bench is built for two.”

“Then sit with Cross!” I complained, jamming my elbow into his ribs again.

“Magic word?”

“Waffles.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“You heard me,” I snorted, shouldering him off the bench. 

“I did,” he agreed as he stood from the floor. “But, wrong word.”

I could only stare in shock at the dark hair now inches from my nose. “Did you just sit on me?!”

“It would appear so,” Hunter happily replied from my lap. 

“Jeez! You’re heavy!” I complained, trying to shove him off.  

“Hmm, noted,” he replied happily.