Piett/Veers , number 11 for the drabble thingy , i see some potential there :3
Unbetaâed and a product of late night writing, hope you still like it c:
Veers wiped afist-thick layer of snow off the bench and smirked up at Piett, steam blowingout of his mouth. âHere you go, old boy. Take a seat.â
âBoy. Look whoâs talking.â Piettâs teethnever stopped chattering as he spoke. He sat down on the bench, winced as hefelt chilly humidity on his arse and back through the heavy military coat,hunched his shoulders and sank his face deeper into the bantha wool scarf. âMyarseholeâs freezing. Tonight you can forget aboutââ
âItâs fine, itâsfine. Iâll suck you off instead.â
Piettâs heartraced. Not even the few hundred meters uphill heâd just plodded through thesnow could make it race so; only fear could. He looked around. No cameras, nopeople, just trees and snow and, further away, sleek Denoni rooftops fadinginto a cloudy, pale distance.
âOh, relax,âVeers said. âWeâre free to talk, for once.â
âWeâre free totalk dirty every night cycle, in myquarters.â
âNot the same,sailor.â
âNot the same,indeed, because my quarters have heating.â His fingers numb despite the gloves,Piett groped into his coat pocket for the cigs.
Veers wanderedto the side of the path, gazing at the cityscape and the bay. The sea had thesame color as a freshly painted Star Destroyer. âI used to come play here whenI was a child. Me and a bunch of other younglings. I havenât seen any of themsince I entered the academy.â
Piett waited,trembling, for some other corny childhood recollection, but Veers fell silent,his back to Piett, eyes to the grey sea.
âBoonta havemercy, Max,â he pulled Veers away from whatever sad thought he was sinkinginto, âyou came to play here in thisseason?â
âPlay⌠how?Did the youngling who got frostbitten the fastest win a Baron Biscuit meal pack?â
Veerscrouched, scooped up a fat fistful of snow and stood back up, a mischievoussmile curling his lips and half-shutting his eyes. Again, he didnât sayanything. His hands patted the snow into a perfect sphere.
âOh, no. Max,no. Donât you dare throwing that snowball, General, thatâs an orderââ He threwhimself down, dodging the projectile just in time. âDamnit, you tosspotâ!â A second barrage of soft, deadly cold snow hit him square in the face.As he swatted hit off his face and rubbed his skin as dry as possible with hisscarf, he heard Veers boom with laughter.
âThis is war.âHe clawed into the snow at his feet and gathered a lump of his own.
No cameras, nopeople, no respectable appearances to keep up⌠They were free to play here,after all.