#sarad

all you wanted was one day to go right, just one, just one decent day to give you some much needed motivation for what were going to be some shitty weeks coming up. you didn’t know the planet you were going to would bring back memories you’d rather repress, but getting back into the havoc marauder was a blessing.

crosshair, ever observant, noticed something was off with you almost immediately. you’d lost the normal pep in your step and when your eyes met his, the lack of their normal sparkle nearly knocked him to his knees. why was his flower so glum? even more important, what could he do to help you feel better?

now cross isn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, this is common knowledge. but he resolved that if cuddling you till the galaxy ended would bring your smile back, nothing would stop him. you were his person, and right now you needed to be held and comforted.

but besides a long embrace, he was unsure of how he could help you feel better sooner. you’re the medic, you excel in helping others in whatever way the situation calls for. blaster shot? broken appendage? the weight of the galaxy on their shoulders? without fail, you had a remedy for it all.

crosshair owed it to you to help you in whatever way you needed from him right then, so he sat down in the empty copilot’s seat and dug through his brain to find something that would work.

you weren’t a big fan of blasters by a long shot, the stench of burned skin being associated too closely with the gar’s weapon of choice, so taking you to the range would be out of the question. it would be a gargantuan feat to get lula away from either wrecker or omega at any given moment; he would rather not subject either of you to wrecker turning the ship on its head in search of the plushie or omega’s pleading eyes if she were to want it. there weren’t even extra pillows or blankets to give you for extra comfort, seeing as the ship was far beyond full capacity with five soldiers, a child, and a medic on board.

he felt helpless as he ran through his rapidly dwindling options, and what did crosshair do when he felt like nothing was going his way? he put on his flower crown. it sounded cliche and ridiculous to most, but it was one of the few gifts he’s ever received and it reminded him of you. the flower crown never failed to put a smile on his face, the flowers reminding him of an afternoon spent in a secluded meadow with no problems in sight.

how did he not think of it before?

once the marauder was in the air and his brothers were on their own, he made his way to his bunk where the oleander crown was waiting on its hook to be worn again. this was different for him, seeing as he’d never let anyone else wear it. but this was you; you had nothing but respect for him and his boundaries and his belongings. he could deal with you wearing the crown, you made it after all.

but when he went to snag it from the hook the same way he has countless times before, it wasn’t there.

immediately he begins to run through the potential solutions to the dilemma before him, trying to quell the panic that was beginning to rise. despite his brothers joking about the flower crown with him, they knew better than to touch it. it was an unspoken rule until omega joined their crew, then he made sure that the young girl explicitly knew that it wasn’t to be removed from his bunk by her tiny hands.

crosshair was so absorbed with his thought process that he was startled when a small sniffle came from the lump of blankets on his bunk.

there you were curled up in his blankets and hugging his pillow, the oleander crown you made for him perched atop your head. his heart stopped for a moment when he noticed the tear tracks on your face and the wet spots on his pillow.

you had never allowed the boys to see you cry, not even him. to bear witness to such a display of vulnerability was humbling and worrying; why were you letting yourself fall apart now of all times? what was powerful enough to break you down like this?

“i’m sorry for getting snot stains on your pillow, cross,” you give another pathetic sniffle and move to wipe your face, the change in position jostling the crown slightly askew. before you could readjust it, crosshair did it for you, one hand resting on your cheek gently. the way you lean into him tells him that his presence is wanted here, that you think he can help you out of this slump despite having nothing to offer you.

the way you were falling apart but still found the energy to apologize for it had him floored. “i can just swap it with tech’s. he doesn’t use his anyways, won’t notice the difference.” your wet laugh sends a jolt of pride through him. he accomplished that laugh, he was the one who got you to smile, even just for a moment, when you felt like you could do anything but.

you pull him into you and fling the covers over him and rest your crowned head on his chest. he chuckles softly as he wraps his arms around you, a gentle kiss pressed to your hair as you get comfortable in the new position. he gently pets your hair around the crown while the other hand rests gently on your back.

“can we stay here for a while?”

“of course, ner sarad.”

anyone that tries to get crosshair to move will be met with fierce opposition (and probably a hit or two, if they aren’t omega). right now, his priorities lie with you and making sure his beloved flower doesn’t wilt.