#the-hexfiles

You find an unexpected figure leaning against your transport when you step out into the employee lot, their back to you. What the hell? You begin rifling through your bag for something to arm yourself with, perhaps something like a bottle of cheap perfume you have in there somewhere that you can spray in their eyes, or maybe there's something you can throw in their direction, tell them to scram. Or maybe their after your credits, so you hope you can just tell them to take your credits and not cause you any trouble and-

Looking over his left shoulder, you find yourself staring at the ink of the skeletal tattoo and a side profile framed by waves of curled, brown hair you'd recognize anywhere. 

"H-Hunter?" 

Hunter turns to face you, his hands fiddling with the knot of his crimson bandana to work it loose. That's when you finally realized why you didn't recognize who was leaning against your vehicle in the growing, deepening purple shadows of the late afternoon. "I thought you'd be a little happier to see me than that," he says with a look that's somewhere between a typical smile and a concerned frown, "but I guess you didn't realize it was me. And I guess I shouldn't have been standing here with my back to you, either." Hunter slips the accessory around his head and reties it with a hasty knot. "Sorry about that, mesh'la." 

There's a million questions swimming over the top of your tongue, each one vying to be asked. "Wha-? How did-? Why are you-?"

Hunter does his best to answer the questions he believes you're trying to ask. "Crosshair gave me a lift here so I could drive you home once you got off work." he says, holding a hand out. He's offering to take your bag and the keys to your vehicle. "As for why, well: it's today. I saw it written on your calendar the last time I came to visit. It's been a year since you lost your loved one. I figured you might be just holding it together by the time your shift ended, and… I think I was right." His hand cups the soft curve of your cheek, the pad of his thumb collecting the first tears that have begun to escape the confines of your tear ducts. 

Hunter sweetly helps you into the passenger seat, and gets any and all safety belts secured before he himself climbs behind the controls and gets ready to take you home. 

"We'll pick up whatever you want to eat on the way home, if that's what you want, cyar'ika." he offers, gently resting the palm of his hand on your trembling shoulder for a brief moment. He's not certain if you want a lot of these gestures of reassuring, physical touch, but it's what he can offer right now so you know that he's there for you. 

Right here, right now, as you weep silently into the sleeves of your work uniform in the passenger seat, Hunter is here for you. And he's not going anywhere until he's either satisfied with his efforts to do his best to lift your spirits, or until you ask him to leave. 

Remnants of the comfort-food you'd requested are either tucked away with the rest of your leftovers, or swept up and deposited into the kitchen trash by Hunter when he makes the offer to do a bit of tidying up. Gentle murmurings that he doesn't want you to worry about it, he'll take care of everything. 

He'll take care of you. Hunter's not going to judge you for your tears. Or for telling him how you wished you could have reamed out this difficult customer. Or for how you shout in your episodic instances of anger, calling your manager a spineless and incompetent little twit who needed to get their act together and quit being so cheap and to hire more people so you're not running yourself so karking ragged. 

Nor does he admonish you for how silly it was that you're complaining about the rip in your clothing made by the thorns found in one of the bushes outside your house, or easily you fall apart into a mess of tears at the gentle hand on your shoulder when he joins you on the sofa once again. 

"Could this day get any worse?!" you sob, your face hot with anger and grief, and your voice thick and choked with the respective emotions.

Hunter is patient and endlessly perceptive; tucking your body just right against him, the way you need him right now. "C'mere, cyare… You've certainly had a pretty thorny day… And I don't blame you for simply just having enough of it all. I don't blame you at all." he promises, sweetly and softly peppering your face in tender kisses with the intention of comfort. 

"I've been having a lot of thorny days lately…" you admit with a stutter, burying your face into the material of his shirt. Hunter smells like sun-warmed cotton and the heavy tang of seawater. Of course now you can't tell if you smell hints of his homeworld on him, or if that's the dried tear stains from earlier. When the two of you simply sat in the parked vehicle once you'd gotten home, Hunter leaned over the center console so you could weep into his shoulder. You'd dialed up your job, ready to tell them that they needed to find someone else, but you couldn't go through with it. Not then, anyways. You haven't been able to make up your mind, either. 

Hunter rubs little circles with his thumb into your shoulder blade as he holds you close, saying that he's sorry to hear you've been struggling lately. That he's sorry you're having hard days. "I just want them to stop!" you sob softly, feeling his fingers gently caress the back of your head, and the deep rumble in his ribs as he asks you to take a deep breath, promising that he's here. That he'll help however he needs.

If you breathe him in deeply enough, you could probably find something from all of his brothers. Something sugary that he was offered a bite of to share with his brother as Wrecker indulged his sweet tooth. The rich blend of caf Tech was partial to lately, that could give him the jitters when Hunter drank it by mistake. The smooth notes of the polishing agent Crosshair spoiled his Firepuncher with because he swore nothing else would do. The faint whiff of synthetic lubricant that must mean Echo had performed upkeep on his prosthetics today or the day before. 

"There we go," Hunter says softly in praise, feeling the frenzied beating of your heart begin to slow and your tears eventually peter out, "it'll be okay, cyare." 

You sniffle, mumbling softly into Hunter's chest. "I'm just so scared that it won't. And I feel silly for feeling so scared..." His arms stitch just a little tighter around you in return when you pull yourself against him, feeling his breath against the top of your head. You just feel so small in your sadness today. But in his arms, the way you fit just right…

The way he's so steady, you feel so loved and protected when you're at your most vulnerable. 

Hunter hushes you, pulling the hair back from your face with a gentle touch once you sit up again. "Tech would probably tell you that that fear is a natural and normal part of life, and that there's no use to feel silly about it. And, even if the way he'd probably say it isn't so gentle, he'd be right. How you're feeling today - angry and upset about your job and wanting to quit, and how much you miss your loved one - is all very thorny and uncomfortable, and no one likes feeling like that. But it's normal. And it's nothing to be ashamed of. And I promise you, I'm here to help. However I'm needed. However long you need me to hold you and make you feel loved while you're feeling down." 

The gentle reminder is just what you need. You're not dealing with this alone. That if you're going to quit your job, Hunter would do whatever you asked of him to help you get ready to sever those ties if you felt it was time. That even though you're left with a hole in your heart with the passing of this loved one who was very important to you, Hunter doesn't expect his presence to merely fill it like it's nothing. 

That's the marvelous thing about the human heart. 

It can hold so much love for so many people if you let it. 

You're certain your eyes look so swollen and red. You're certain you'll find more tears to shed when the thorns of grief find their excuse to make you weep once more, but right now, Hunter's hands have carefully and kindly cleaned away the last of them. He's so gentle and sweet on you, right now. 

"Hey… what if," Hunter begins, offering in a soft, low voice between the kisses he stamps in the crown of your hair and trails down one side of your jaw to the other, "you changed out of your uniform, and we found something to watch together now that we've had something to eat? Something silly. Maybe something romantic. Or both. Whatever you want, cyare. I don't care what it is." he promises.

You fiddle with the frayed and torn edge of your clothing that had been caught on the thorny plant outside. "What if I just want more cuddles after I change?" Hunter laughs gently, nodding as he reluctantly releases you so you can slip into something comfortable and try to end this day on a happier note. 

(You're going to have to send Crosshair a message later to thank him for doing Hunter a favor by giving his brother a lift and dropping him off.)

"Whatever you want. Especially if that's more cuddles." Hunter says once more with a warm smile, hooking your pinky fingers together so he can hold some part of you just a moment longer. If you found comfort in his touch and wanted more of it, he was happy to provide. 

You're pulled back into Hunter's arms when you come back to the living room after you've thrown on a comfortable pair of clothes, finding yourself wrapped up tight. He's so strong, like all of his brothers, and every ounce of it is devoted to comfort and consoling you right now.

Hunter is so warm and comfortable, and you're so emotionally drained that it's hard to resist the act of nuzzling one cheek into his chest and closing your eyes to simply relish this quiet moment. You don't know what you want to do, but you just know that you need this. Hunter knows it too.

People need a good hug now and again. This galaxy could be so cruel and thorny to the people who mattered most to us, that sometimes what they needed most was an act of deliberate softness to remind them everything would be okay. That the bad times will pass. 

That while our hearts yearn and grieve for the ones we miss the most, the room we had for them in our hearts will always remain no matter how long they've been gone. 

And the people we love in the here and now will fit themselves next to that jagged space and trim back the thorns, if we only ask.

Hunter (Crewmate offering to be your wingman) 

His eyes often flit to the door whenever someone walks in out of habit in large part to his senses. Keeping an eye on his surroundings. Things he was trained to do. So he notices the attractive woman who's just strolled in through the front entrance of 79's. Her clothing, her hair, her nails are all beautiful and immaculate.

And he notices how your breath hitches in your throat when you see her. But it's not insecurity or jealousy that made you do that. He's caught on for a while now that you "swing more than one way" as it were. But you've never been explicit in your words, or given him the big speech, so he's kept his mouth shut. If a member of his crew has something to tell him, he wants to give them a chance.  You're no different.

But the comment under your breath is enough to finally ask. "Oh Maker, she's gotta be one of the angels from Iego…" You've just compared her to the Diathim of Millius Prime, practically swooning. 

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes trained on the bombshell beauty you seem to be pining for. "You wanna go talk to her?" 

You shake your head rapidly at him, trying not to choke on the drink in your hands with the fruit-flavored and colorful, jelly-like particulate. (It's new to the novelty drinks menu at 79's, so Hunter's not sure how it tastes, but you seem to like it.) "Oh stars no!" Did he misread the situation before him, were you looking at her with jealousy after all? 

You sigh, putting your head in your hands with a groan. "She's so out of my league… She's probably only here for the troopers, anyways." you add solemnly, finally slumping forward in your seat at the bar top. Hunter sets down his glass and plants a steady hand on your shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He's still getting to know you as a regular part of his squad, in all fairness, but he should have trusted his instinct. You did seem to have a thing for women. 

So maybe he could offer to help. 

"Well… if you've had enough liquid courage and want to try your luck, I'll be your wingman, cyar'ika." he says, giving you a friendly pat after slowly sitting up. You'll think about it, you murmur. 

You never end up making a move to so much as introduce yourself to her, much, much too nervous. At the end of the night, Hunter, who had tried to coax and encourage you several times throughout the night, just gives you another pat on the back. "Maybe next time, cyare. Don't feel too bad." As you walk back to the Marauder together, Hunter won't pressure you into it of course but he offers to help you practice for next time, if you think it'll cheer you up. As part of his squad, there'll always be the banter and the teasing of course, but Hunter will always offer to help.

Crosshair (Initially confused (+ insecure) partner)

Sight sharper than a knife, he was not quite afraid to check out the beautiful woman hanging off another Clone's elbow once upon a time. But now, with you, he keeps himself in check for the most part. You've briefly had that talk as a relatively new couple, that really it’s okay. It’s only natural to look. We’re all kriffing human, after all, aren’t we? The whole possessive ownership aspect is weird and icky to you, and you’re not gonna get yourself in a twist just because you catch him glancing at another woman. But he realizes there's probably something else you should have talked about together. 

You like women too, and you’re looking at them just as much. It's hard to miss by the fifth instance of a remark like "Oh, she's cute!" and subsequent gestures with your glass to indicate who you're looking at. He's trying so hard not to feel like you’re testing him. Like you’re playing some little game by calling his loyalty into question, just how “obedient” he’ll really be. "Oh, yeah?" There's a strange twist of discomfort in his guts that he can't figure out. Is he jealous? Is he upset? (Should he order something to eat from the overpriced appetizer menu?)

"Yeah, I mean, look at her," you invite him with a flashy smile, "she's cute!" 

He blinks at you with mild concern. He's heard alcohol brings out a different side in people, and he can't recall the full array of what you've had to drink. "Are you feeling alright?" He's unsure why he's so bothered. Is it because you're not paying attention to him? 

"Better than alright, Cross. What's wro-? Oh. Oh shit didn't I tell you?" you set down your drink with a soft laugh and an apology, face looking flushed in a way that has nothing to do with the red and purple club lights. "I, uh, I play for more than one team, romantically at least. I'm sorry if I never told you, Crosshair." 

He frowns for a split second, but he quickly answers that there's no need to apologize. He was a little confused at first sure (and perhaps slightly envious that you were commenting so openly on other people who weren't him), but he takes a look now at the woman you had indicated. She's not just cute, "Oh, the smoke show in the red dress?" 

"Yeah. That's the one." you nod approvingly, the movement slow and deliberate. "She's a stunner, ain't she?" Certainly is, he agrees. (One of his brothers sighs playfully and makes the remark that nights out to 79's, or any bar for that matter, will get a lot more interesting from now on.) 

The rest of the night carries on this way, you making the occasional glancing once-over of another trooper's arm-candy for the night, but most of your attention is given to Crosshair. You're with him for a reason. You know how to behave yourself, for kriff's sake. Any inkling of the horrible, hateful stereotypes of your orientation being true are so far from reality. You don't make passes at everyone you see. You keep your comments innocent and general if you decide to get a little gutsy and talk to one of them. 

The redhead's got curls to die for, what kind of product is she using?

That is such a cute dress (with pockets!) that you have to know where she got it, because you swear you've seen fashion like that on Naboo. 

Sorry if this is weird to ask but she's totally wearing a designer fragrance from one of the Core Worlds, right?  

By the end of the night, Crosshair is reassured that you're not playing any kind of game with him, and perhaps the two of you will be having another talk to smooth out any wrinkles he has in his understanding of your orientation; but you promise him over and over you're with him for a reason in case any of your comments tonight made him feel any doubt. Just because you swing more than one way does not mean you're going to leave in the event you feel a stronger preference for women for a while. You love him. 

And he wholly believes you. 

Wrecker (Your enthusiastic hype-man)

"Oh shit." You hunker down in the booth seat, wide-eyed and breathless.

Wrecker reflexively glances down at the casual fatigues he wore to 79's tonight instead of the dark red and gray armor he typically wears. "Wha'? Did I get dip on myself again?" He doesn't see anything, so he takes a look at you, and that's when he notices you practically halfway under the table. "Did you drop something? I can lift the table so it's easier to-!"

"No!" you blurt out, sitting up. "That won't be necessary! Don't lift the table!" 

You're starting to confuse him. "Then what's wrong?" 

"She's here." A slightly shaky finger is pointed across the Clone bar, where seated at the counter, is the woman who's only ever shown interest in the other girls often brought here, or the dancers. You've had a not-so-silent crush on her for ages but didn't want to go and try anything. Until last week when she turned down what must've been the hundredth trooper. "Sorry fellas, afraid I'm not interested. But you'd all definitely be my type if I was into men." Oh Maker you'd been a hopeless mess. 

The endless inner cycle of 'do I want to BE her, or do I want to be WITH her?' had finally sorted itself out in your head after that. 

Wrecker knew from the jump that your romantic and sexual interests did not begin and end with men when he caught you staring at the same woman as him in a dirty jumpsuit on the airfield. And then literally caught you when you tripped over Tech's box of tools in your distraction. Ever since, he's done his best to help you make a move over someone you were clearly feeling something for. 

"Go talk to her!" Wrecker encourages you, nudging your ribs with a careful elbow, "Say hi!" 

"Maker, I can't, she's so pretty a-and like-? Oh Wrecker I can't even explain it… It's like I look at her and I just-"

Wrecker chuckles softly, leveling you with a look that tells you he knows exactly what you mean. "Have trouble thinkin' straight because she's gonna be paying attention and you don't want to kark it up?" 

You bite your bottom lip so hard he's worried you'll make it bleed and get it all over your pretty little outfit. "Y-yes! I'm so nervous…" 

He tells you not to worry about it too much, you're overthinking it! "Introduce yourself, mesh'la. You'll kick yourself for days if you don't." Okay, okay, he's right. Here goes nothing, you say. You slip out of the booth seat and sidle up to the drinks counter under the notion of ordering another drink first, but your crush takes notice of you in her proximity, and all she manages is a pleasant hello before you're a grinning mess. Wow, you had it bad for her. You stammer through your introduction, and give her your name as you say it was nice to meet her, and sure, you'd love to chat while the drink slinger whips something up! 

In one of your many nervous glances around the club, he makes sure you get a clear view of his approving thumbs up. You're doing great! You end up talking to her for nearly forty-five minutes before she has to leave, she's got work in the morning, but she's scribbling something down on the bar top that Wrecker can't see. 

"Hey, look at you! You did it, kid!" Wrecker cheers as you walk back over to the booth in a daze, your eyes focused on the slip of flimsiplast in your hands. 

"Sh-she gave me her comm frequency… What does that mean?" 

Wrecker can only laugh. Oh man, guess even you will have your help-how-do-I-function-around-a-girl-I've-never-even-met-a-girl moments he's seen many Clones have. 

"I think that means she wants to keep talking to ya, ad'ika." 

"O-oh." Is all you simply say. "Holy kriff I did it. I talked to her." you add after a long, long pause as Wrecker adds the number into your contacts for you, just in case the flimsi gets wet and you end up losing the number before the night is over. 

"You sure did! I knew you could do it!" 

Tech (Not-so-surprised friend) 

To him, the fact that you have a romantic, perhaps even sexual interest in women is as obvious as the fact that the phenotypic eye color for (most) Clones is brown. 

That's simply just how it is, in his world. But he has extensively researched how significant a coming out is for people such as yourself who do not fall under a heteronormative scope. He does not ask. He does not hint to you that he knows. And if he has let it slip, he is careful to express that it is not a big deal. 

Not a big deal in the sense that he would end a friendship with you, or view you as if there was something "broken" and "defective" about you. That would be rather hypocritical of him after all. Well, sort of. He's more deviant than defective, because his genetic mutations do not hinder his ability to perform as a competent soldier of the GAR, and much like your inclinations, that is not something he has control over. He is simply a Clone from a "bad batch" much in the same way that you are a woman who fancies other women. 

If you were to even come out to him, he has already carefully considered what he would say to you. He values your friendship and your company. He would very much like to maintain this by saying the right thing. 

That he is glad that you trusted him enough to share such an important facet of yourself. That though, quite honestly, he has questions, he will save them for another time. That he understands you must be nervous, scared even, but he will never treat you any different than before you told him. And he most definitely will not tell you that he deduced this months ago. 

But blast him, when you sent him a message asking to meet up at 79's a little earlier before the typical meetup, he was so certain that this was the conversation. So he had been mentally coaching himself on what to say, but more importantly what not to say so much, that when you slipped into the booth and said "I wanna tell you something, Tech…" it slipped his mouth faster than a Mon Calamari in water. 

"That you like women?" 

Oh shit. Oh shitshitshit. That was the thing he was supposed to refrain from saying or asking! 

"Hah… Was I really that obvious? Did I worry for nothing?" You ask with a sincere laugh. You're not offended, or angry, or anything in the slightest. In fact, you look relieved. "...Tech?"

"I'm so sorry." is all he can offer. Oh Maker, he's so incredibly sorry, he tells you. He's robbed you of the chance to have a very significant conversation about what many deem unnatural, but in fact it's not; just before you joined him in their usual booth at 79's he was reading an admittedly rather heartwarming article about same-sex couples occuring in the galactic animal kingdom before you arrived, actually! (Everything from the little nuna to the mighty and magnificent purrgil!) But he's suspected this for some time and didn't think it was his place to ask. He's sorry he's ruined this chance for y-

You interrupt him with a laugh as you take one of his hands and squeeze it reassuringly. You just laugh and laugh, a grin from ear to ear the whole time before you settle yourself. "Oh, Tech… It's okay! I don't care if it didn't end up being surprising to you. I'm just so glad you understood that you shouldn't say something just because it was obvious in this case. Thank you. You're a good friend. Not everyone has been." 

He's sorry to hear that, first and foremost. "But I am… glad that you trusted me enough to want to tell me." 

Echo (Friend who's known for ages)

Echo carefully tests whatever fun and colorful drink you ordered for yourself as you give his a try. The two of you have been friends for ages, since before the Citadel. So that means Echo's known nearly as long as you've been friends that you swing more than one way. In fact, it was surprisingly comforting to know that had not changed since ending up in a Techno Union chamber. 

"Hey, cyar'ika. Can I ask if you… Would it be weird to…" he sighed sharply and says he's just going to rip off the bacta patch and ask. "Do you still like women in addition to-?" 

"Don't worry. That hasn't changed while you were gone." you told him, wrapping him up in a careful hug on one of those first nights since he'd been freed and given time to rest. To fill himself in on what happened in the galaxy around him since being plugged into an algorithm. "Welcome back, Echo." 

He sets the drink down and shakes his head, and you give him back his beverage with a disgusted shudder. "Ugh. How can you stand that?" you both tease each other in tandem. 

"I don't understand your taste in beverages, but at least I understand your taste in women." Echo rags on you with a mischievous smile, indicating someone across the club who's been staring at the drinks menu for the last three minutes. "How about her? Clone News Network suggests she's a little shy, perhaps, but I've heard you have a similar hobby. That's something, hm?" 

You scoff, knowing well enough that the rumor mill requires taking things with a grain of salt. "Oh no, that's not enough to just-"

"She's also of 'multiple persuasions'." Echo assures you, quelling that particular anxiety. "Believe me, I asked around rather… extensively." he suggests. 

"Oh, did you now?" 

"Mhm." 

"Are you trying to set me up on a d-?"

Echo shakes his head. "Mm-mn. Only asked if any of the boys had gotten a vibe, or heard anything. She's pretty forthcoming about it, turns out, so it's not like this was something I found by invading her privacy or betraying trusts." He's a skilled tactician, he reminds you gently, and he understands that asking around takes delicacy and knowing that you can't just ask any ol' brother. 

He's nothing but mindful, as ever. "If you wanna do anything about it, that's up to you. You get more out of something when you want it, I wasn't going to set you up for something against your will."

You take a thoughtful swig of your beverage and set the glass down on the bar top once more. "If I did… would you help me plan on how to make a move? You know I'm a little hopeless with this stuff. Guys are one thing, but, I dunno, it's different when trying to flirt with another woman as a woman." you admit with a nervous laugh. 

Of course he would, Echo promises sweetly, kindly as ever. 

BONUS CLONES

Fives (Gives you advice)

Between reminding Hardcase not to go in rotary cannons blazing nearly every mission, and coming up with sufficient battle strategies as an Advanced Recon Commando, Fives is nearly convinced that he'll go gray by the time he's, what, technically fifteen? Nearly. 

So in a way, he loves when you send him a message asking for his input on low-stakes stuff. No one's in any danger, he's not worried about a brother's safety, and he still gets to show off how smart he is. 

>Oh Maker Fives help there's a total babe here tonight I think she's super cute but I don't know if it's safe to make a move or say anything what do I do

It's 21:00: are you at 79's?

> Yeah why

79's is a pretty accepting establishment, so see if anything she brought with her or is wearing has any kind of pin, or keychain or deliberate color scheme, Ka'ra. Take a deep breath. 

He chuckles as he watches the bubbles start and stop at the bottom of the messaging feature repeatedly. Poor you. Must be so nervous. So worked up on your own anxiety and panic that you might benefit from a second, teasing reminder. 

Ka'raaaa. Did you take a deep breath, silly? I don't care what the song says, love is not a battlefield, you don't need to panic. 

He thinks for a second and changes his mind. 

Actually no, scratch that. It is, but it isn't. You still need a strategy, but you need to have a level head first. 

> You're right, you're right. Taking a deep breath

Captain Rex seems to materialize behind him and over the shoulder like a hologram, peering down at the screen out of curiosity. "Those don't look like reports. One of our brothers having a little lady trouble at 79's again?" 

Fives laughs in good humor. "I'm not exactly sure why I got designated the 501st's biggest flirt, but I'll take it, Captain." He can get plenty nervous and unsure of what to say like anyone else, but Fives cares about his brothers; of course he's going to do his best to help them. "No, it's our favorite mechanic here on Coruscant." He trusts his Captain will exercise his discretion and make no mention of knowing the romantic and sexual persuasions of their friend if she hadn't made explicit mention to him. "I see. Well, wish her luck for me. I've got my own reports I've put off long enough."

"I'll have mine in by 21:30, Captain!" Fives promises, knowing he'll probably be helping some of the Shinies learn to fill them out properly once again. A little extra guidance and another source of advice goes a long way for many, brothers and friends alike. 

> Good call about looking for pins, Fives. I think I'm in the clear

He's not totally sure what that color scheme ties to when you describe the personal touch this "total babe across the bar" has added to her handbag looks like, but the simple fact that you're now fairly sure you're safe to flirt with her (if that's what you decide to do) brings you a lot of relief. 

Him too, honestly. 

You gonna go for it, mesh'la? The Captain and I wish ya luck if you do!

> I'd have to think of the right words first, but thanks Fives. You coming to 79's later tonight?

Have reports to finish up, so we'll see. 

> Your's or some of your brothers'? (Is it Hardcase's again?)

Very funny, Ka'ra. I just try to be helpful to whoever asks.

> I'm only teasing~ You're a very smart dependable brother, and friend, Fives. Next time you come to 79's if it's not tonight, I'll buy you a drink as a way of saying thank you.

Fives smiles. He'd like that, he responds. He wishes you luck once more, and says he should get a start on wrapping this particular report up since it contains information the Captain will need to report to General Skywalker with. 

Never told us there'd be this much damn paperwork to do as part of our training on Kamino if you're gonna be made an ARC trooper. 

> Good thing you're smart, Fives. I'm confident you'll figure out something wicked intelligent, like how to stop this war one day. 🩷

Captain Rex (Doing his best to learn and support you)

"Huh… gotta say, there's certainly a lot to try to understand; I might still have a few questions about it, but I'm not gonna pry into it if you don't feel like explaining it." The Captain admits, scratching the back of his neck with a soft chuckle. "I'm not quite up to speed on all this, but-" 

"Rex, it's okay." you assure him. "I know you're doing your best. I only told you a short while ago, remember? And hey," here you take his hand and give him a friendly squeeze, "it took me a while to realize this stuff about myself too. It's not always like the media where it just… "clicks", suddenly! It's almost like a building suspicion, or passing thoughts that you try to excuse at first, but then you realize that you're feeling these feelings and thinking these thoughts more and more. And that's when you tend to figure out "Oh, hey, that term I found on the Holonet describes me!" and it all makes sense. For the most part." 

"Oh?" Rex asks, intrigued. 

"Sometimes you find a label or orientation that fits you better than one you were first using." you explain, scribbling down a few labels off the top of your head onto a scrap of flimsi you had among your things as you met up with the Captain for a cup of caf on your day off, "Like say, you think this one best explains you," you circle an example, "so you use it for a while. But then later you hear about this-" you x-out the first label and circle a new one, "and you find it does a much better job of explaining how you feel. And there was nothing wrong with identifying with the first one for a while until you found what fit better and changed it, either." 

He nods thoughtfully, very clearly mulling this over. Then it hits him. "A little like, well, when a Clone finds their name?" 

"Yes!" you cheer, "Yes, kinda like when a Clone finds his name! Maybe he thought he wanted to be called Skip for a while, but he decided he felt more comfortable with naming himself Tripper after hearing someone else say it for the first time." 

He thinks he better understands this now when he thinks of it in this context, he explains with a smile that suggests a lot of relief. He's just so busy, but he wanted to understand what you meant after the last night out you had with the 501st and you were all sharing embarrassing stories. Rex wasn't a stranger to the fact that men could like men and women could like women, but some of these other labels were lost on him. 

"I've been around a while, but I have to admit I don't know what that means." he sheepishly replied when you explained what your orientation was as part of your embarrassing situation. But now that he knows, Rex wants you to know you'll always have his support.

Hardcase (Identifies as a Kriffing Problem if you don't respect his friends) 

It's good news for you, bad news for the nasties when they decide that they want to be antagonistic in a safe space. You wanted to check out a new, very accepting bar in the area, and had asked Hardcase to come along with you to help ease your nerves about it. 

His lively energy would do everyone some good, you figured. He was friendly and personable, so he'd get along with everyone. And you were right; Hardcase truly does get along with everyone from the snappily-dressed bartenders to the other allies who are there to support their friends in case there's trouble. 

Everyone except the bigots. He's always been all-smiles off the battlefield due to his energetic nature, and you've never seen him drop a smile so fast. When it's time to get serious, Hardcase gets serious. "What the kriff did you say?" He's not asking because he didn't hear what insults had been lobbied your way, he's giving the other guy a chance to back down and leave if he knows what's good for him. "I know you didn't just say that about my friend." 

The other guy repeats himself, louder this time. "I said anyone who identifies as a-"

"I'm about to identify as a kriffing problem if you don't shut the hell up." Hardcase warns him one last time, putting himself between you and the antagonizer who overheard you mentioning there were a lot of cute girls here tonight.. "Sorry that you feel so threatened by a woman finding someone other than you attractive, but that's a "you" problem that you should take somewhere else." He suggests they take a hike to 79's specifically. He conveniently "forgets" to mention that it's a Clone bar, and as the troublemakers leave, he tips off a few of his brothers about what's headed their way. 

"Don't worry about them. They'll find out how many of us identify as a kriffing problem before they think about trying this again anytime soon." Hardcase promises, his sweet and charming smile present like it never even left as he checks on you after the fact.

Tagging: @the-hexfiles