#soft hunter

You looked back at the hologram message that spelled out in large letters DENIED in a bold script like it was intentionally mocking you. You felt your eyes fill with tears as you turned away from the hologram. You don’t know why you even allowed yourself to get your hopes up that you would be accepted into the GAR’s Advanced Field Training Program. You thought your skills were quite good considering you’d been with Clone Force 99 for almost an entire cycle, but the reasons listed in the rejection holo were such bantha fodder it enraged you.

How could they say further training was ‘unnecessary’ and to apply again at another time? You were in the middle of a war alongside some of the most elite soldiers in the GAR. What about that meant extra training was unnecessary? Shouldn’t they want you as capable as you could possibly be? How could they deem any request for further training unnecessary when you felt you could barely keep up with the boys? It’s like they were setting you up to fail.

You let out another frustrated sob as you slammed the button to shut off the holo with your fist and started to leave the cockpit. You needed to sulk on the gunner’s mount for a while until the rejection didn’t sting so much.

You didn’t hear his footsteps until it was too late, and Hunter was in the doorway at the top of the gangplank. You watched his face register your angry tears before quickly looking away, hoping to dodge his questioning by continuing in the aft direction.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hunter stepped into your path and placed his hands on your shoulders, angling his face to look at your eyes that still avoided him. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

You sniffled and wiped away the stray tears on your cheeks. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Hunter said softly, and you sniffled again before he cocked his head. “Come on.”

Hunter put an arm on your shoulder and gently guided you out of the Marauder and into the fresh forest air of the planet you were on. You stomped alongside him, his hand and the small of your back as you walked further towards the treeline.

“Talk to me,” Hunter said when you were under the shade of tall trees some distance from the ship.

“What are you doing back so early anyway?” you asked, crossing your arms, still avoiding his gaze. There was something embarrassing about looking at him with tear-stained eyes and cheeks. Hunter always remained strong no matter what adversity he faced. He was always cool, calm and collected. Never wavering. But the façade of your strength had broken, and he was witnessing it. It was mortifying.

“You’re supposed to be with the others,” you continued.

“I was. But I got an alert from GAR command so I thought it might be important, seeing as though they never contact us first,” he explained.

You suppressed a loud groan. The alert was your rejection letter. You hadn’t realised his comm had been synced up with the ship’s systems. It wouldn’t hit you until a little later that Hunter had prioritised you over what he thought was an important message from GAR command. He was continuously amazing.

“But you still haven’t answered my question,” Hunter said gently, stepping towards you. After a beat of silence, he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, “You gonna look at me?”

You sighed and flicked your eyes to him. Hunter was a very handsome man, anyone with eyes could see that, but there was something devastatingly beautiful about how he looked right now. Stood with his hands on his hips in his armour, the speckled sunlight from the trees lit up his face, shining in the grey-brown of his eyes and across the tattoo of his face. The corner of his mouth was turned up slightly as you met his gaze, the warmth and familiarity of it made your heart squeeze.

You really did love him. And you could hardly believe he loved you too.

“It’s nothing,” you assured him, not wanting to bother him further when he already had so much on his mind with the upcoming mission. “I just got frustrated.”

“Uh-huh,” Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Wanna tell me what about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you shook your head.

Hunter said your name and placed his hands on your arms, drawing you closer. “I know this is still…new, for us both. But you can tell me anything.”

You’d only been together for a couple of months; despite the length of time you’d been with The Bad Batch. You’d steadily found yourself falling for the sergeant, with his rough voice which almost never angered even when he was thrown curveballs that definitely warranted it, his capable hands and ability to lead and look out for his squad with care, you could hardly be blamed for it. You’d never expected that he would ever return your feelings. But sitting at a campfire sipping spotchka late into the night after a particularly tough mission where you’d almost not come out alive had spurred the revelation of your feelings to one another. And the two months that followed had been a bliss of shared bunks, stolen kisses, secret handholding, and sneaking away whenever you could.

You loved it. You loved him.

You sighed and put your forehead on his chest. How could you tell him, the ever-proficient sergeant of an elite squad with an unbroken winning streak, you’d been denied further training? It was humiliating. Hunter raised a hand to your hair and gently smoothed the back of your head. The gesture was so soft you almost started crying again.

“It’s stupid,” you muffled into his armour.

Hunter took your face in his hands and lifted it from his chest. “Cyare…how can it be stupid when it’s upset you?”

When he smiled reassuringly at you, thumbs softly drawing across your cheekbones, catching stray tears, you melted.

“I applied for the GAR’s Advanced Field Training Program,” you told him. “That was the alert you got.”

Hunter’s brow creased. “I didn’t know you applied for further training.”

You shook your head. “Because I didn’t tell you.”

“When did you apply?” he asked.

You swallowed. “After that mission.”

You didn’t need to say anything more than that. You both knew which one. Whilst it had brought you too together, it almost had fatal consequences for the squad. You’d barely made it out of there, and you’d all had to spend several hours patching each other up, applying bacta, and then using spotchka to sterilise the wounds when you’d run out. You’d taken some of the worst hits you’d ever experienced, and you remembered trying to run after the boys as droids closed in on your exit from the facility, information in tow. You remembered vividly falling behind, your legs not fast enough, reflexes slower. You’d tripped over debris, falling and spraining your wrist and ankle, Hunter had to fall back and pick you up, dodging blaster fire as he carried you back to the ship. You’d felt helpless; like you’d let everyone down.

It's what spurred you to apply for further training, so it wouldn’t happen again.

Hunter took in a breath, his expression becoming understanding as his hands that still held your face stroked down your neck. “I see.”

You swallowed before forcing the words out, irritation flaring up in you again as you recalled those bold red letters. “They rejected my application on account of it being ‘unnecessary’.” You scoffed. “I told you it was stupid.”

Hunter nodded carefully before running the backs of his fingers across your tear-stained cheeks, gently wiping the remains of streams away. “I’m sorry. They should’ve accepted you.”

You felt your chest expand. You hadn’t realised how much you needed to hear that; that you deserved to be accepted into the program; that their decision to reject you was as ridiculous as you thought, and that you weren’t overreacting. You gave him a tight-lipped smile and leaned into his hand that cupped your face. “Thanks, Hunter.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you applied?” Hunter asked earnestly.

You shrugged. There wasn’t really a proper reason, hearing his response now. You took his hand from your face and traced his palm between you, avoiding his eyes.

“I just wanted to be better,” you said quietly. “I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t good enough for the squad.”

Hunter said you name in that gentle chastising way. He shook his head. “I would never think that. I don’t think that.”

You gave him a small smile before looking away again. “Are you mad?”

“No,” Hunter told you without hesitation before he gently lifted your chin with his finger and kissed your forehead. “But I understand why you are.”

You huffed despite the sweet gesture. “It just makes no sense! How could they say it’s unnecessary? We’re in the middle of a kriffing war. Don’t they want to win?”

Hunter nodded, an amused smile trying to break through his expression at your frustrated hand gestures. “You’re right, cyare. But staying mad at the GAR won’t do any good.”

You sighed, crossing your arms, frown on your face. “I know. But they’re just so…idiotic.”

Hunter chuckled. “I know, sweetheart. But I do have an idea, if you’d like to hear it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Hunter smiled and unlaced your arms so he could hold your hands. “You let us train you.”

Your eyes widened in shock at his offer. “Really? You would give me the extra training?”

Hunter smiled with his teeth, and you knew he was really happy when he did that. Knowing you were the source of such a smile made your insides warm. How special was he.

“Yes, I would. And so would my brothers.” Hunter squeezed your hands and looked at you seriously. “If further training is what you want, then you should have it. You’re an asset to this squad; I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough to be here.”

You could’ve cried with happiness. All your anger at the GAR melted away. Who needed them when you had Hunter? You loved this man so much.

Smiling up at him, you asked, “How will it work? Our missions are always back-to-back.”

“I’m sure Tech will be able to formulate a schedule,” Hunter shrugged. “But we’ll make it work. The GAR says it’s unnecessary? Well, we’ve never been good at following orders.”

You laughed and threw your arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. You breathed in his scent from his dark curls, and his arms went around your torso and held you close. You could feel him smile into your neck before he kissed it. The edges of his armour bit into your body, but you could hardly care. You loved him more than words.

“Thank you, Hunter,” you whispered into him before pulling back to look at his beautiful face. He smiled warmly at you, a dapple of sunlight hitting his eyes, so they shone with that same warmth. You cradled his jaw in one hand and stroked the stubble-lined cheek with your thumb before kissing his lips sweetly, hoping it conveyed how much you loved and appreciated him. Hunter, ever the discerner of your emotions, smiled into the kiss before he deepened it a little, holding you tighter against his solid frame as his lips moved against yours tenderly. When you both pulled back, you were smiling at each other as your foreheads touched.

“Always,” Hunter said between you, grinning.

The words echo heavily in the silence of the cockpit of the Marauder. Tech stops tipping on his datapad and glances up, surprised; Wrecker gulps and plays with his own hands nervously. Crosshair is glaring at Hunter; and Echo turns to look at his sergeant as well, his face filling with aprehension and uncertainty.

That's the thing with Crosshair, isn't it? He doesn't handle his trust issues very well, and inmediately attacks everyone, even the people he loves, upon a new threat. Hunter's been spending more and more time with the ARC lately; discussing strategies but also having long quiet talks in their free time, simply enjoying each other's company when nothing is expected from the two of them. And Crosshair is seing this developing attachment as a dangerous competition for the sniper's own attachment to Hunter. Hunter doesn't know how else to reasure him that he has space on his heart for both of them. Cross will always be his brother. And Echo... Echo...

Echo is terrified of what he's about to find. He knows Crosshair's words can cut deep if they want to; and he's got that sort of dangerous glint in his eyes now. He's going to push the whole Batch to a drifting point. Echo... Doesn't think he's ready to hear this. He has a guess of what he's about to say; and knowing Hunter only offered him a spot in their team because he pitied him, that... That would break him. It hadn't been so long ago when Echo felt nothing more than a pathetic mix of metals and scrapped bones. Half-droid. Half-human. No longer a reg, a proper clone... His sense of identity had been swipped in a blink, and among the nauseating guilt of having had his mind used to kill other people, other vods... It had been extremely dificult to carry on. He had worked a lot on it, though. He had moved on. Day by day, his confidence and capacities as a soldier, as a person, had returned. Echo prays the trooper's next words won't bring all of it down.

"Shut up, Crosshair" Hunter warns, with a sharpness rarely seen on him. "You've got no fucking right".

Echo winces. It's definitely nothing good if Hunter reacts like that. As a leader, he's use to mediate; to be patient, remain calm.

Crosshair smirks. He ignores Hunter's death stare and gives Echo a smug grin. A promise of destruction. The spark of a fire.

"Surely Echo is smart enough to figure out how much of a fan boy you are by now" he continues, Hunter's standing figure not quick enough to shut him up. "I'm just not sure if he thinks this is a recent development. Wether he knows that you only offered him that spot on our team after Anaxes because you couldn't help but take the chance to have your little crush close to you".

It all happens so fast; Crosshair's confession, and Hunter's harsh slap on the sniper's cheek. The rest of the Batch are left staring at them, doumbfounded.

"You just can't help but pull people into your own missery, can't you" Hunter hisses, cheeks flushing with either embarassment or rage. "You're such a dickhead, Crosshair".

Hunter rushes out of the cockpit; not daring a single glance towards the others. Crosshair huffs, stands up, and leaves as well; taking the opposite direction and walking out of the Marauder into the hangar they're stationed in. Wrecker and Tech sigh, perhaps more used to his; but Echo remains silent, in shock, trying to process what happened between the brothers.

"What... What does Crosshair mean with "crush"?" He asks, hesitant, still not able to believe he has heard that word coming out of the sniper's lips.

It must have been sarcastic. Some sort of joke to make fun of the two of them.

Wrecker scratches the back of his head, his eyes flickering over the room before answering.

"Hunter has always liked you. From before Anaxes, I mean" he whispers, and Echo answers with a lost blink.

Tech decides to throw some light on the subject; since the cat is out of the bag now.

"Wrecker's affirmation is correct" he agrees, and explains "As the leader of the squad, Hunter and I have studied millions of strategies for all sorts of usefull variants in battles. Our trainers encouraged us to learn from other's experiences, and when you made ARC and started to help Captain Rex with them, we studied those too. In adition, Hunter finally started to show his first signs of sexual maturity and attraction; so it was naturally easy for him to fall for you. Even in the distance, without a proper meeting between the two of you, he grew to admire you. To like you. Considering all of this, I'd say Crosshair's use of the words "crush" and "fan boy" to be decently accurate; though I can understand Hunter's anger about him revealing this private information without his consent. I also agree on Hunter's observation that Crosshair tends to hurt others when he is unhappy as well".

Echo is having trouble to think. This is too much to take in; his mind can't quite understand that Hunter –handsome, sexy, competent Hunter– had all this feelings for him burried for so long. He would have never guessed. He is not naive enough to not have noticed that they were getting closer lately; but Echo had only had hoped that maybe, in the future, the sargeant would grow to think of him as a possibility. But not now. Not that he already did. That he always had. That just...

"For the record" Tech continues, holding his index up. "I don't believe Hunter only offered you to join us solely based on his previous attraction to you. He believed you to be a good addition to our dynamic; you were a seasoned experienced soldier, an ARC no less, and that would always be valuable for the team. He asked us and we all agreed on it".

Echo is honestly relieved to hear that. He'd prefer to have been picked for a pretty face than pity; but it was nice to now it hadn't been based on just that. Echo's panick disolves into stunned confusion and surprise.

"And... Crosshair implies Hunter still feels this way for me now, after all this months?" He finally manages to ask, heart speeding up.

There's a new feeling surging inside of him; hope.

"I wouldn't catalogue it into a "crush" any longer" Tech hums, thoughtfully. "After so many experiences together, and the way I've seen you both interacting over the weeks and the few comments he has made about you to me, I'd say it would run deeper than that. Hunter is also not a teenager anymore; the word "crush" sounds too childish for what I think he feels for you now".

A rush of excitement and warmth flows through Echo's veins. This has to be one of the few times he is this glad that Tech is always overly concise and explicit. This information soothes so many worries, gives him so many chances to work on...

"Thank you, Tech" he pats his shoulder. "I think I'm gonna' go see how Hunter's doing now".

Before either Tech or Wrecker has had the chance to say goodbye, Echo is already leaving the cockpit into the direction of the Marauder's common bunk room.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hunter is sprawled down on his bed, laying down with his face pressed dejectedly against the pillow, and Echo can almost hear him floating in his own shame. He guesses he'd react similarly if someone had decided to blurt his secret out to the world so suddenly.

"So you liked me, then?" He decides to ask, straight to the point.

The time for hidding and making up excuses –both for Hunter and himself– has ended. If he has a chance, Echo is not going to waste it.

The sergeant groans, pushing his face further into the shield that is protecting him from the outside world.

"You were hot and smart" he reluctantly mumbles, his muffled voice barely audible if not for Echo's implants. "Of course I did".

Echo's heart swell. He can't believe this is happening; that this is real. It almost feels like a dream; those he invented to try to comfort himself at cold nights full of dark memories and fear.

"And you still do? Even if I now look like... This?" A tiny sliver of uncertainty inevitably makes it's way to Echo's mind, and it's enough to finally pull Hunter's face out of his refugee.

"You look different, but you're just as hot and smart now" Hunter replies, a surge of fierce confidence acompanied by a defiant tilt of his chin, almost as if he's daring Echo to contradict him.

Echo feels a pleasant tingle on the base of his spine. Hunter likes how he looks –how he is– right now. Hunter think he's... hot. Echo feels aceptable to look at most days; to know he is admired and desired is... Electrifying. He hadn't really felt like this since Skako.

Echo takes the liberty to slowly walk towards Hunter; carefully sitting in his bunk besides him.

"And you've run all the way down here to...?"

Hunter huffs.

"To not throw a punch at Crosshair's face, mainly, and because I didn't know how to behave around you after he esentially confessed for me" he deadpans.

Echo chuckles quietly.

"You did slap him" he points out, and Hunter shrugs.

"Deserved. He should be glad. A slap hurts less than a punch".

Echo laughs; and it's such a rare sight that Hunter can't help but smile looking at him. His eyes turn soft, his own smile fond; and Echo suddenly realises how this kind of expresion has always been reserved for him.

He catches one of Hunter's hands in his and infuses as much sweetness and warmth in his voice in response.

"I know it must have been embarassing. Perhaps humiliating" his thumb caresses the man's skin and Hunter shivers staring at him. "But I'm somewhat glad this happened, even if in this circumstances. Because I've also been liking you for quite the time now, and I wasn't planning on confessing anytime soon".

Hunter's breath hitches; and he moves to sit straigther in the bed, so that they're almost face to face.

"Why not?" he asks, fingertips caressing Echo's face, almost reverent.

The ARC exposes his own vulnerability.

"Because I didn't think there was a chance someone like you could like someone like me" he whispers, and the words send darts to Hunter's heart.

He sighs and traces a thumb over Echo's lips.

"I don't know how to make you understand how I feel" he softly presses a peck to the trooper's sharp cheek, pale skin reddening inmediately. "You're gorgeous, Echo".

The soldier shivers and melts against Hunter's quick embrace.

He wants to share so many things with him; ask questions, confess some. But he suddenly feels exhausted, and he lets the shorter man pull him down so they're both laying on the bed, legs and arms entwined in a sweet embrace. Echo pushes his nose against Hunter's neck and smiles, giving it too a small peck. The sergeant shivers and answers with a low, pleased hum; and soon sleep falls upon the both of them.

When Crosshair slips into the room in the middle of the night –Tech and Wrecker sleeping soundlessly too in their respective bunks– and sees two shapes on Hunter's bed, he stares for a few seconds before silently climbing into his own and resorting to rest as well. Over the next few days and weeks, when he sees them briefly kissing and caressing each other here and there, he stays peacefully quiet as well.

Something was wrong. You weren’t really sure what could have possibly happened that caused Hunter to drop what was in his hand so abruptly, and run away from you and the group. All you knew was that something must have happened that had him sprinting down the pathways and away from the city. You had noticed how uptight he was in the morning, but thought it was probably due to how busy the market tended to be during the early hours of the day. But as the hours rolled by, his eyebrows grew more furrowed, and his jaw tensed as if he was tasked with an impossible mission. Normally, Hunter was a controlled man, even in the most stressful of environments. He seldom let the situations get out of hand from him, and even then, he would voice out his concerns just to gain a different perspective. 

But this was different. 

Something upset him so deeply that he couldn’t stand being in the presence of anyone. 

“Where is he going?” Omega asks as she finishes helping Wrecker carry the rest of the supplies. She is about to follow Hunter when you hold out your hand, signaling her to stop and let you handle the situation. 

“Stay here, I’ll go and see what he needs.” You smile reassuringly at her and stand up from your kneeling position, nodding at Wrecker and Tech before walking towards the path Hunter took to the shore. 

As you descend the city, you can’t help but admire the colors of the sky as the sun sets far deep into the ocean, painting the clouds with pastels and shining stars. By the time you reach the beach, you get the sense that you’ll need to be patient and careful with Hunter. Although you’d been with the Batch for some time now, you knew that Hunter didn’t grow easy around people quickly. In fact, you found him the hardest to convince of your good, unselfish intentions. 

When you feel the warm sand beneath your feet, you take your shoes off and place them at the dock before continuing to where you knew Hunter liked to meditate. 

Normally, when he feels someone approaching him, Hunter announces his knowledge, either by asking his visitor a question or remarking on how loud they are. You found it funny that he tended to speak first, knowing that it was probably for the benefit of whoever was interrupting his alone time so they don’t jump in fear when they see him all of a sudden. 

But the closer you get to his spot, the more uneasy you become, mostly because you could hear the man groaning in pain. Forgoing the initial plan of approaching him softly, you run towards the large boulders near the edge of the forest until you come across Hunter’s body kneeling in the sand. 

“Kriff,” you swear beneath your breath, sprinting towards him and falling beside his heaving body to let him know that he isn’t alone. Hunter initially twitches away from you, shaking his head and falling to the ground as soon as he feels your hands reach for his shoulder. 

“It’s me Hunter, it’s just me. I’m here!” You whisper against his shoulder, knowing that voicing out your concerns might worsen his sensory overload. He shakes violently underneath the touch of your hands, but as soon as he glances to the side and sees how calm and worried your features are, he melts into your embrace and lets go of his chest. 

His hands shoot to the front of your shirt, and you prepare yourself for being thrown off of him, but the opposite happens. Hunter takes one look into your eyes and crashes against your chest, clinging onto you for dear life until you have no option but wrap your arms around him and part your thighs so he can settle in between them. His body is vibrating with energy, and you want nothing more than to talk him through whatever anxiety boiling through his body. But you remind yourself that any extra noise will make things worse, so instead of calming him the way you sometimes do with Wrecker or Omega, you decide to let your touch do the work for you. 

Taking a deep breath, you slowly move your hand across his shoulder and back, waiting until he gets used to the sensation before slipping your other hand into his hair and massaging his scalp. Hunter hisses in the beginning, his body begging him to remove himself from you so you don’t witness him during such a vulnerable, weak moment. But he wills himself to stay still in your arms, allowing you to drive his fears and sensitivity away. 

You don’t dare look down at him, knowing that he probably already hates you having a front row seat to his anxiety. Instead, you think of the colors etched across the skies, allowing the soft sound of the waves coming to the shore calm the both of you so you don’t cry from how deeply you feel for the man. You’re not sure how long you lay there with Hunter in your arms, but when his body relaxes further into you, and his pained whines turned into deep, guttural groans, you know that he’s moved past whatever it was that sent him over the edge so cruelly. 

Except the more you move your hands up and down his back, and the harder you dig your nails into the hair at the nape of his neck, Hunter can’t help but groan against your sternum, his breaths coming out hot and heavy against the little bit of skin peeking through the buttons of your shirt. His breathing is becoming erratic again, except unlike before, his body isn’t shaking from the violent sensory overload, but a more pleasant buzzing coursing through his veins. 

The moment you realize what you’ve unintentionally done, you stop your ministrations and begin to detach your hands from his person. 

“Please…d-don’t. I- I need to…I need you to stay,” his words are broken, voice hoarse from how dry his throat has become, as if he’s been talking for the past hours. You’re shocked by the turn of the events, but you’re more surprised by how comfortable Hunter is with you. You knew that he’d learn how to trust you at some point, but you never thought the trust would run so deep to the point where he’d willingly move past such a rigid line along with you. 

“Hunter…you’re not thinking clearly right now.” You firmly respond, waiting until he looks up through heavy-lidded eyes and stares into your slowly dilating pupils.

“You- you’re the reason I ran away.” 

It’s far from what you expected him to say, now of all times. You thought he’d tell you that he’s thinking clearly, or perhaps beg you some more in that sinful, gruff voice of his, maybe even tell you to just end his misery and do this once before you return to the city.

You must be staring at him with shock and confusion, because Hunter tenses his jaw and looks away from you. 

“I was thinking about how caring you are with Omega, how much patience you have for Tech…even when he’s unknowingly insulting you…how sweet you tend to be with Wrecker, especially when he has nightmares.”

You can’t find the words to respond to Hunter, so you remain silent, willing him to continue explaining himself so your brain doesn’t explode from the sudden confession. 

“And, you’re always so understanding with me…as if I haven’t been cold to you ever since you joined.” You don’t like the way he describes himself, so you finally break your silence and push him off of you until you can get a better look at him. 

“I know it’s difficult to trust new people, especially now when your lives are at stake. I would- maker Hunter, I would never fault you for being extra careful. You’re just looking after your brothers…after Omega.”

“There…that’s what made me run away.” He cuts you off, and a part of you is unsure as to why that could possibly make him leave. 

“I was thinking of you, mesh’la…until I finally understood why I don’t want to let you in.” It’s your turn to breathe harshly, chest rising and falling rapidly with every word Hunter bestows upon you. Looking at him now, you’re unable to hold back from admiring how boyish yet rugged he still looks as the pastels across the skies above you shine over his handsome, sharp features. His hair falls perfectly over his bronze skin, framing his deep, hazel eyes and chiseled jaw so perfectly that you can’t stop yourself from leaning down and kissing his aquiline nose. 

His breath hitches at the gentle touch, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was already lying in your arms, Hunter thinks he may have fallen into your embrace if the two of you were standing and you decided to pull that little stunt. When you pull away, far too soon to his liking, Hunter lets out a shaky breath and smiles softly at you. 

“I’ve let you in a long time ago sweetheart, and I’m done pretending I don’t want you.” 

The sureness with which he reveals that last bit of his heart to you nearly sends you into overdrive, and you blink the tears away before you ask him one last time, wanting him to be sure of what he’s saying. 

“You want me?” Your voice shakes as you ask, afraid that he’ll come to his senses all of a sudden and tell you that he didn’t mean any of what he just said. But Hunter doesn’t waste another second, sitting up and moving closer to you until there is barely any space between your lips and his own. 

“Desperately.” He whispers against your lips before he engulfs you completely, the passion he exerts over your body forcing you onto your back. You part your lips for him instantly, combing your hands into his hair and tugging on it when he slips his tongue inside our mouth and tastes you. 

You’d later tell him that the ease with which he confessed to you his feelings nearly made you fall over in tears, but you set the thought aside now, wanting to cherish the moment until it’s ingrained in your mind. 

When Hunter pulls away, you open your eyes and find him studying you closely. You think it was probably his turn to overthink matters, and before he can apologize for how forward he’s being, you pull him back down and pray his name as you kiss along his jaw and neck. You barely hold back from giggling when you feel his elbows buckle, sending him flush against your chest until you hate access to the skin showing from beneath his shirt. 

“S-sweetheart.” His voice is dangerously low, but you continue to map his scars with teasing kisses and little bites, wanting him to completely surrender himself to you. 

“Hunter…” You moan in return, smiling to yourself when he groans in response to the lewd pronunciation of his name. 

“I need you, cyare. I need you so kriffing badly.” He growls into the cool dusk air, hands grasping at your shoulders to get you to ease off of him if only for a moment. 

“Then take me.” You respond instantly, letting go of him so you can lay your head back down against the sand of the shores. Hunter snaps his gaze at you, once again scrutinizing your features and body language so there can be no room for any misunderstandings. 

“I trust I’m not interrupting anything…” Tech’s voice held the faintest touch of impatience as he called from just beyond the portcullis, and I felt myself tense at the sound; at the knowledge of just how uncertain things yet stood between us, “especially given the potential for aggravating possible head trauma.” Echo didn’t miss the sudden stiffness of my shoulders, embrace tightening in silent reassurance before reluctantly stepping back and turning an unamused glare upward as the door slid open.

“Ah. Good.” The brilliant man stated, and neither of us missed the audible discomfort in those short words. I didn’t try to look toward him, tongue slipping over my lips as a barely suppressed anxiety danced beneath my skin like an itch willing my limbs to fidget, but Echo’s taste still lingered, rich and warm, and that realization was a more welcomed distraction than I could ever find words for.

“While I don’t doubt your capabilities under normal circumstances, I don’t feel it appropriate to self-diagnose when your mental faculties could be impaired.” He continued after descending the ladder, and I belatedly drew a breath to try to answer, straining to keep from wondering if he noticed the undeniable disarray of Echo’s armor from my wandering hands, how unkempt our hair had become, and how our lips were still swollen from heated kisses, but that fear delayed my response just a beat too long, and the doubt that stole through him sent something sharp twisting through my chest.

“Unless… you’d prefer we summon a 501st medic…?” He offered, head lowering ever so slightly. I saw the confusion in Echo’s eyes as he glanced between us and felt another pang of that anxiety. Of course, Echo didn’t know why such tension lingered between his brother and I; he didn’t know about the harshness of Tech’s tone during our flight to the Resolute; the way I’d been alienated from our squad in the aftermath of his illness; not the details, at least.

“No.” I said, cringing at the almost meek hush stifling the word, and I quickly cleared my throat to try again. “No, it’s… You’re right, and I think this is something best kept between us.” I added with a small grimace, loathing the thought of how such a discussion might escalate if Kix found out what happened… When… Kriff, he probably already knew – had probably heard a retelling of the entire fight from one of the regs who’d seen… but that was a problem I’d deal with later. For now, I glanced toward Tech with a fresh flare of that nervousness. “If… if you don’t mind…?”

His shoulders sank at the way my voice dropped into something too near a mumble, but he merely responded with an almost gentle, “of course.”

“Ev?” Echo whispered, and my heart jumped as he shifted toward me, at the subtle way he just barely leaned between me and Tech, brows drown together in a hesitant frown. In a moment of boldness, I reached out to slide my fingers through his, but that frown didn’t waver as I drew his hand up to press softly against my lips, offering him a smile that couldn’t quite reach my eyes.

“It’s alright.” I murmured before turning and starting up the ladder. It wasn’t until I reached the top, door hissing shut behind me that he spoke up, quiet but stern.

“What the kriff was that?” He nearly growled. Tech was silent for a moment, and I told myself I wasn’t eavesdropping despite how my breath stilled, steps softening, slowing.

“I may have… reacted poorly earlier…” Despite the memory of how I’d broken as he’d shied from my touch, despite the hurt that lingered from his earlier anger, his disdain that would take far more than a murmured apology to heal from, despite how unsure I was toward where we stood with one another, still my heart melted at the troubled tone sinking through his words, the hint of something that wasn’t quite confusion though was too soft to be frustration. I could so clearly picture the little crease between his brows and how it would make his goggles shift ever so slightly as his gaze turned blindly toward the ground, mind working through whatever left him so troubled.

“Suppose that’s probably my fault, too?” I almost missed Echo’s reply, his voice dropping, torn between annoyance and guilt in a way that left my breath catching, muscles taut with the threat of turning around, of retracing my steps until I could trap him in my arms once more.

“Your actions, or inaction as it were, certainly contributed… but, no.” Tech answered with a slow sigh. There was a pause, and I wondered if his lips were shifting with some further explanation he was still at war with. It was only when I heard that first step climbing up the ladder that I even noticed how I’d leaned toward them, desperately trying to catch every word, and my chest jerked with a sharp gasp, adrenaline darting through my veins as I quickly turned back and sped through the cabin as fast as I could, footsteps carefully silenced lest he hear me and realize just how closely I’d been listening. As it was, I could only hope I’d made it through the adjacent doorway before he caught up with me and didn’t stop until I reached the medbay, heart pounding, but the instant I slid into that painfully familiar room, I froze.

A week. Had it really only been a week since I’d left, racing alongside Echo’s barely stable form to the far more capable facilities of the Resolute? It looked so paltry now. A single bed surrounded by cabinets with doors so askew and dented that it was wonder the contents didn’t tumble out at the first taste of turbulence. A single bed that had seen far too much pain… too much blood.

I couldn’t remember every drop of crimson that had been cleaned from a floor that was long since showing its abuse, tread worn nearly smooth underfoot, but I remembered enough. I remembered Crosshair’s shout as I’d dealt with that dangerous hematoma on his back. I remembered my horror that first moment I’d seen Wrecker, form beyond lean from a lifetime of starvation. I remembered how gently Echo touched me in the wake of that mercenary’s attack, and how gently I touched him in turn every time he came to me with aching muscles he couldn’t reach. I remembered how Tech had clung to me as his body seized and trembled beneath the crippling withdrawal from those wretched spores… and how he’d shied from me as though I were a stranger to him once more.

It was with that heaviness that I held myself still as the door opened, unable to turn to face him, unable to risk what I might see when he looked at me.

“Doc?” He called, pausing just outside that open doorway. “Are you… alright?” My chest shook with an inhale too sharp and jagged to fully silence, head dropping but still refusing to glance toward him.

“Yeah.” I murmured, the word hushed with a discomfort I couldn’t begin to hide. Jaw grinding, I stepped closer to the bed, allowing a hand to rest idly atop the dark sheet though I made no move to sit. “This… isn’t a complicated examination.” I continued quietly, “It’s okay if you’d prefer one of the others do it – Hunter or Echo both have the knowl-”

“Evelyn.” I’d never heard him call my name like that, elegant voice dropping into a whisper that sent a shiver lighting up my spine. It left me paralyzed as he stepped lightly around me, not feigning even an illusion of ignorance toward how near to me he stood, and I tried to ignore the sudden stiffness in my throat.

“If I may,” he paused for only the briefest of moments, allowing just enough time for me to object if I wanted… but of course, I remained silent, waiting with every sliver of patience I could find in hopes of gaining even a trace of understanding. “I’m afraid I… appear to have made things worse earlier… and I assure you that was not my intent.” My lip ached from how it ground between my teeth as I struggled to draw a steady breath.

“You don’t have to explain, Tech.” I murmured, words almost rushed. “You don’t owe me an explanation for why something makes you uncomfortable, and I-”

“Evelyn.” He pressed, head ducking down in a silent plea for me to meet his gaze. I nearly denied him, nearly found the strength to refuse that I might be spared the pain of everything I so feared to see in those brilliant eyes. But I couldn’t... not when he called my name so softly. Defeat cloying through my chest, bracing for a rejection I hadn’t even allowed myself to pretend I could endure, I reluctantly looked up, and the weight that rested atop his shoulders was far more crippling to witness than it might have been to carry myself.

“My earlier reaction wasn’t caused by any… aversion to you. I recognized the likely trajectory in how the squad’s dynamic was changing and had hoped to avoid contributing to an already complex situation.” It almost sounded like an apology, but my thoughts were spiraling too much to make sense of it, something between hesitation and confusion drawing a faint divot between my brows.

“You…” I started, the sound barely stumbling over my tongue as I worked back through his every word for some deeper meaning. “You don’t need a reason to not want to-” I wasn’t trying to argue; I wanted only to give him an out, to avoid assumptions that might result in furthering the discomfort I thought I’d caused, but the way his expression softened left the words falling silent, and when his hand slowly reached for me, fingers delicately sliding around mine to pull the limb toward him, I found myself freezing, eyes locked on his as he seemed to study every movement, every sliver of where his skin touched mine as he thoughtlessly pressed against the little notch just beneath the pad of my thumb, counting my too-quick pulse without further preface or comment.

“Given recent events, I’m inclined to dismiss your tachycardia, but I would advise you avoid further stress or strenuous activity for at least 72 hours.” There was a brief moment where my cheeks only darkened at the implication, but the bark of laughter that followed held no shame nor anxiety or doubt, because the only thing I could be certain of was just how stressful the coming days were all but guaranteed to be. He seemed to pause, taken aback by the outburst, but then the ridiculousness of his own statement dawned on him, shoulders dropping with a sigh just softened by the hint of a smirk toying with his lips, and I could have sobbed at the sight of it.

“Perhaps…” His gaze dropped slightly as he continued, voice lowering into something not quite a whisper but too gentle for anything else, “I can be of assistance in… alleviating some of that stress?” My eyes instantly snapped up to his, body freezing as my heart jumped, mind both racing and utterly empty as I tried to guess his meaning, but the way his lips tensed, drawing back from that little smirk into something far more nervous, I felt myself hesitate.

“There was no… safe way to handle this situation.” It felt like I couldn’t breathe as I listened, waiting, hoping for the answers I’d been desperate for for what felt like hours now. “Above all, we agreed that your comfort needed to be our priority, thus any discussion that might result in, well, putting you in an uncomfortable situation was unanimously discouraged; however, we also acknowledged the harm in keeping such knowledge from you.” I watched the hint of a scowl twist his face just enough for his goggles to shift, annoyed at the conflicting truths that had clearly tortured him over the last several months, and I struggled with how to respond; how to balance a sympathy and want to grant freedom from that frustration, not just for him but for myself as well, with the still prominent hurt that something so profound had been kept from me when they knew how cruel that had been.

“Approximately 78% of known sentient life participates in polygamy.” The words could so easily have found themselves in any one of his endless rants, spoken absent care or thought toward how such a fact might let the mind wander, but that analytical detachment wasn't there now… It was spoken with a nervousness that was so foreign to him. “Despite this majority, the practice is still met with heavy societal stigmas ranging from dismissal or disapproval to extreme disgust, discouraging many from speaking openly about it.” His thumb tapped softly against my wrist, a gentle ticking that I wasn’t sure he even realized he was doing.

“If the offer was presented, and such an… unconventional dynamic didn't align with your preferences, it would likely have resulted in expounding negative consequences even if we attempted to maintain a solely platonic friendship.” That frown deepened, thumb nearly fluttering now. “I suggested Crosshair discuss the possibility with you on Scarif as he was in the best position to speak with you in a manner that would grant insight without causing excess concern…” I needed only a moment to remember; the beach, the fallout after I’d… rescued Echo from that mercenary… how new and tentative my relationship with Crosshair was and the insecurities that came with, and I couldn’t help but scoff.

“I imagine he loved that idea…” The way his attention shifted back to me held such a strange familiarity, and it didn’t take long to realize why.

“Actually,” He corrected, “Crosshair was agreeable.” I was so stunned by his words that I barely had time to process them before he continued. “Even he couldn’t deny the detriment in allowing things to continue as they were.” It felt like the air had been ripped from my lungs, confusion warring with the objection twitching atop my tongue.

“But then you were summoned by the 104th.” He explained, voice dropping, and I tried not to show the rush of ice that flooded my chest at the mere thought. “And circumstances have not improved since then, certainly not for such a delicate topic.” I went quiet, and I knew he could tell the difference between this silence and the last, I could hear it in how careful he was to soften his breath, gaze studying me with a knowing tension.

“And now?” I finally asked, all but ignoring the cause for that tension as I subtly pulled my shoulders back, forcing my spine straight once more. “You all clearly spent quite a bit of time discussing this whenever I was out of earshot.” I blamed the adrenaline for how my voice twisted slightly with something too angry to be called frustration but too weary to be rage. “Is the plan for me to… rotate whose bed I sleep in?” I blamed the dread that still lingered in the mere memories of that decrepit cell for how my skin crawled beneath his touch. “Have you already worked out a schedule?” Still, I blamed myself for the hurt in his eyes as his grip tightened in the split second before he released me.

“Ah, I… No.” It was rare for even that brief stutter to rob his eloquent voice of the confidence usually so ingrained in his every word. “I do not believe such a sudden transition would be… comfortable for any of us.” I saw the way his chest stiffened around breaths now far less controlled, fingers clenching in an almost anxious rhythm at his sides as his gaze darted from the cabinets to the bed to anywhere but me, and a shaky, hurried breath fled me in a sharp sigh.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, hand reaching up to rub harshly at my eyes as I forced myself in check. “That was uncalled for.” He merely watched as I took a tiny step back, arms shifting to wrap nervously around myself. “This is just… It’s a lot, and I… don’t know… what to expect, what to – how to think or…” I let out an almost growled breath, annoyed with how I stumbled over the words.

“Evelyn…” It wasn’t that gentle, imploring murmur. His voice now held a confusion of his own, like he was preparing to say something he’d presumed obvious. “Your relationship with one of us does not define your relationship with all of us, and vise versa.” My eyes snapped back to his, freezing as he spoke, attention suddenly hanging on his every word. “As I understand it, all that’s changed is an agreement that should something develop beyond your current relationship with Crosshair, and now Echo, then there would be no offense from pre-existing partners.”

I blinked, stunned into a very different silence as I thought over those words again. And again, unsure if I felt ashamed from how simple he made it seem or from how I’d let myself merely expect… what? For there to suddenly be something intimate and personal with each of them in the midst of a day? That I’d assumed they’d expect such things of me despite the constant displays of respect and affection they’d given me for over a year?

I still wasn’t sure what might happen when I walked out of the ship, when I eventually rejoined the others with the knowledge that I was allowed to want them… with the knowledge that they wanted me, too… but hearing him say it like that, knowing now, that what might happen was a matter of potential rather than expectation, it shifted such a crippling weight from my shoulders that I couldn’t silence the way my breath fled me in a shaky rush, and the way Tech mirrored me with a little sigh of his own was just enough to ease my lips into a faint smile.

“While I agree that this is a topic in need of a much more in-depth discussion,” he started, voice just soft enough to draw my gaze back to his, “I really must insist on allowing me to, at the very least, scan you for potential intercranial swelling.” The breathy chuckle that left me was far more unsteady than I’d expected, and the flare of alarm that shot through him only pulled another bout of quiet laughter from me.

Next Chapter

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