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 “COULD’VE JUST ASKED to swap with me.” Waxer remarks in a quiet voice, not wanting to WAKE  the clones around them. Although he says that, he makes no move or has no tone that indicates he’d like the other to GO, shifting to nestle himself comfortably against the man’s side & resting his chin on Case’s shoulder. Waxer wasn’t always the type to give such OPEN AFFECTION, but nine times out of ten he’d openly RECIPROCATE it when it was given. And especially now? He was too tired not to!

“Just don’t… don’t make too much noise with your tapping…” He murmured drowsily, throwing his arm across the other’s chest. “Don’t want to wake the boys.”

               He hasn’t thought of that -- but even if he had, he doubts he would have. Hardcase never liked to draw attention to these vices of his; his tics. The bouncing, the stomach rolling, the inability to get comfortable, the overflow of adrenaline. As a cadet, he was told never to call forth the focus of the Kaminoans to his... defections. The damned long-necks with their steely, unfeeling gaze never responded well to clones that were less than perfect.

               But the points of contact help. He shifts closer and curls his hands around Waxer’s arm, his head nuzzling against the top of his brother’s. He plants the ball of his foot to the ground, bouncing his heel from there. Noiseless. “ They’re a bunch’a rocks, they sleep fine. I’m all right, just -- TWITCHY, y’know? ”

               Sometimes simply laying on his own, entirely still, nothing touching him is the absolute worst. Where it feels like his skin isn’t real if there’s no pressure, and he’s not hot or cold or any extreme. The cold side of the pillow isn’t cold enough, and he has to press his hands against his face to feel the pressure. It helps when the flat of his bare foot is on the ground, and Waxer’s body is pressed against his side, given the small space of the individual bunks. Hardcase’s hand lifts to drop against Waxer’s hip as the bigger clone lays on his back, his fingers groping their way to feel his elbow. “ All good -- didn’t like it up there. I hate bein’ top bunk. ” He is TIRED, yet his knee still finds the energy to bounce, vibrating from where his foot presses against the floor.

 “MM. YEAH.” The clone confirms, eyes shut tight as he CHERISHES the embrace between himself and his brother. “— just missed you. Last mission was tight. ‘Was wonderin’ when it was I’d be back here t’ see you again.” Pulling back, one can see that Waxer had neither laughed nor cried, but wore an expression that was fragile and soft enough to enable either. The grin on his face gentle, he squeezed Case’s shoulder and said in a tone of seriousness: “– they treatin’ you right around here, ‘vod?” 

@triggrhappy  // cont. from that thingie 

               Clones are expected to accept loss with barely a blink of an eye, to continue their job. If they must mourn, it will happen later, when the mission is over. When it’s convenient. Hardcase scarcely knows a single clone who can adhere to such a value. Dogma, maybe, and he knows Captain Rex pretends he can. But himself? IT FRIGHTENS HIM.. The large clone tightens his grip on his brother, hoisting him up closer. He smiles brightly, clapping a hand against Waxer’s cheek. “ Could do with better rations, but can’t complain. Haven’t broken anythin’ yet, Fives says that’s an achievement. Missed you. ”

               It’s not easy to knock Hardcase back with his sheer DENSITY, but the attack does set him back a step. He wasn’t paying attention. He can’t help but smile and giggle slightly, clapping his hand against his brother’s back, his palm moving up his spine to curve around his shoulder. “ All right, ori’vod? ”