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imarvelatthestars · 5 months

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I - Labyrinth

masterlist

Pairings: f!reader x Tai, Commander Appo, Captain Vaughn, Sergeant Fox, & Sterling [no cl*necest!]

Content: some world building; reader & friends go to a bar and reader gets intoxicated; jealousy, flirting

labyrinth [n., lab·y·rinth] - a complicated irregular network of passages or paths in which it is difficult to find one's way; a maze

It’s been a good two years – arguably the best two years of your life. You no longer live paycheck to paycheck, wondering where your next meal might come from, you don’t lurk in your flat late into the night, lonely and bored to tears and wishing for a friend to share your thoughts with. Now you have five friends, although the word feels too simplistic for what they do for you. The clones that have made your home theirs are more than just friends, more than roommates or even mere acquaintances.

You muse on it now as you watch one of them. Tai leans a bit on his cane as he stands to receive the credits from your latest shopper. He nods pleasantly at the Duros woman, and grunts when he plops himself back into his chair and passes the credits off to you for safekeeping. He’s still so young, yet he carries himself like an old man, grunting and huffing when he moves, his mouth often drawn into a serious line that’s almost impossible to read. But you’re certain you’ve learned to decipher all his tells.

The blink-and-you’ll-miss-it quirk of one side of his mouth, usually his right, means he’s amused. The slow and steady nod paired with weary eyes is usually his way of saying thank you when he doesn’t have the words to express it. The flaring of his nostrils and tightening of his jaw is anger plain and simple, simmering under his skin and threatening to break loose all hell on whoever has caught his ire. This look, though, the empty expression paired with imperceptibly rounded shoulders and the bouncing of his left knee while the other leg is stretched out is the one that makes your heart hurt the most.

“You want some bacta?” you ask as you sort the credits into your makeshift register. “I think there’s a few stims left in my bag.”

Tai has a terrible habit of undermining his own pain. You’ve theorized that he doesn’t want to come off as weak, but you can’t be sure. He’s never really told you. Maybe it’s just pride, or shame. Either way, he often turns down any offers of help from either you or his brothers. This time, though, he doesn’t, and you think the nerve pain must be worse than usual for him to accept the offer on the first try.

You gesture with a nod of your chin in the direction of your bag, propped up against his chair. “G’head. They’re somewhere in there.”

He hesitates to rummage through your things, you can see it in his eyes, in the way his hands stutter, but he finally relents when you raise an eyebrow at him.

He’s always been respectful of your space, like the rest of his brothers. They outnumber you, they’re stronger than you, and they could easily do whatever they liked with your flat, with your most prized possessions, with you, but they have always shown you nothing but respect and kindness. They’ve never encroached on your space even a single time, never made you feel uncomfortable for being the only woman in a flat full of men.

Family. There’s no other word for it. They’re the people you trust most in the galaxy, the ones you run to for support, the ones who make you laugh, the ones who make your life brighter. You love them. They know you do, you’ve said it often enough, yet you still feel as though something’s missing.

They’re your family, but you love them in a way that is distinctly un-familial.

It’s embarrassing. It’s shameful.

But after two years of living with them through good times and bad, you know it’s the truth. You notice them in the way friends should never notice each other – Appo’s sure and steady leadership and that rumbly voice of his that sends shivers down your spine, Vaughn’s loyal and attentive energy that ensures you never feel anxious or alone, Fox’s too-charming smile and the bulky musculature resting beneath tattooed forearms, Sterling’s kindness and respect and that ridiculously attractive way that he combs his hair back, Tai’s gentle yet hidden affection and the stolen smiles that make your heart beat ever faster.

They’re brothers, you remind yourself as you have for a solid year now, ever since these feelings first became manifest. That’s weird. They’d think you’re disgusting. Not for loving them all at once, but for wondering what it would be like to be shared amongst them. For desiring such a thing.

Funny how the simple act of offering help and Tai accepting it is what encourages your mind to leap to such places. This certainly isn’t the first time, either. Sharing a flat with 5 charming, handsome, funny, strong, brave men will do that to you. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve seen Fox roll up the sleeves of his flannel until they stop just above his tattoos, of how many times Vaughn or Sterling will come home after a long day and immediately rip off their filthy shirts as if they’re still living in the barracks, of the glimpses you’ve caught of Appo when he shaves early in the morning (wearing nothing but his boxers and sleepshirt, no less). Even merely watching Tai at work, watching his hands smooth over the wood or stone or seashells that he carves each day, is enough to send you into a tizzy sometimes.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s enough to bring you back to the present, away from lingering thoughts of bare skin and strong, broad hands.

You smile as he replaces your bag in its original spot. “Course. At least the day’s almost over, right?”

Tai nods, but doesn’t respond beyond a single grunt. Must be pretty bad. You decide then and there to do something nice for him tonight, tomorrow at the very latest. If not to show how much you care (too much), then to take his mind off the pain.

The opportunity comes in the form of a good dinner for him and his brothers. Food duty is a responsibility shared by all and passed around in a consistent schedule, although there are days when one person is too drained to manage it and someone else takes over. It takes a bit of good-natured arguing and the fluttering of your eyelashes to convince him, but you eventually manage to snag the duty from Tai tonight. He hardly pretends to be relieved.

Sterling had told you once that the food they’d received growing up on Kamino could hardly be classified as such. It was either tasteless slop or ration bars, both packed full of the appropriate nutrients but there was no joy to be found in the eating of it. You’ve made a point since then to note what each brother enjoys best and to accommodate them when you can. Vaughn and Appo seem to like dishes with a bit of kick to them, and it’s helped to expand your own tastes in the process. Fox likes anything sweet, anything that will dribble down his chin and make a mess. You try not to let your mind wander at the thought. Tai’s preference tends to be milder than the others, but he’s been known to be adventurous with his palette every now and then. Sterling, on the other hand, seems keen on anything and everything. He’ll eat just about anything you give him.

It would take far too much time to accommodate each of them tonight, though you’ve done so before. But tonight was meant to be Tai’s night and he’s the one you’re most worried about, so you choose to focus on him this time. A nice plate of roasted fish and vegetables is mellow enough for him while also being filling enough for the other men, and it leaves the whole house smelling delicious.

Fox tells you as much when he comes home. He throws an arm around your shoulders as you eye the timer atop the oven, and you do an amazing job at pretending not to notice how fucking amazing he smells. Even after a long day of manual labor, he still smells a bit like spiced cologne as it mixes with his sweat and natural musk. “Hope you didn’t do all this on my account,” he laughs, all the while wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think too highly of yourself, Fox,” you say, dryly, but there’s a bit of humor in the quirk of your smile.

He makes a big show of being offended, from dramatic exhalations and a hung head, to the resting of his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt, mesh’la.”

You bump his hip with your own, a friendly gesture to get out of the kitchen while you’re still working. “Yeah, yeah, go be hurt somewhere else. And take a shower, you’re all gross.”

The mock salute he offers in response only serves to make your chest literally ache. He’s so kriffing endearing, it kills you.

Sterling and Vaughn come home soon after, each of them looking tired and sweaty after a long day. None of the boys work nearly as hard as Fox does, not physically at least, but their jobs take a lot out of them, and you see it every day. They work long hours, hardly complaining beyond the brotherly banter they spew over beers and shitty holos, and more often than not, their shoulders are slumped, and their shirts stained with sweat and grime. A warm, home-cooked meal is the least you can do. Still, you make a point of serving Tai first.

“I can get it, you know.” His voice is imperceptibly low, and you have to strain yourself to understand him, but you needn’t ask for clarification. You know what he means.

“I know. But you don’t have to.” Tai starts to protest again, even as he starts poking at his food, but you stop him with a shake of your head and a firm expression. “I’m happy to help.”

Even after two years, he still tries to fight you. But this is one battle he’s almost always going to lose, and you hope that one day Tai will come to the understanding that you don’t help him because he’s not capable, but because he deserves some grace. Tonight is just another step toward that finish line.

By the time Appo comes in from his shift, the others are mostly finished eating. They’ve stationed themselves across the living room as they always do, sprawled across the sofa and chairs with their individual serving tables, or just a plate in hand in Fox’s case, balanced before them.

“Go get cleaned up. I kept yours warm.”

He simply nods before heading into the back room and shutting the door behind him. It’s a few minutes later when he comes out, freshly changed, and takes his plate from you mid-serving.

“Sit.”

You shake your head. “No, I got it, just lemme-“

“Sit.”

It’s not said unkindly, although with Appo it’s sometimes hard to tell. The serious lines of his face and the dark pitch of his voice lend themselves to a rather stern and imposing presence. You know him well enough by now, though, and you’ve had the conversation about it before – as much as it may be in your nature, doting on him only makes him feel awkward, and he’d rather you took care of yourself before him or any of his brothers. You still do it sometimes. He makes up for it in his own casual, silent way, and tonight he does it by bringing you a glass of your usual beverage. No shared words, hardly a look spared your way, but a silent understanding that settles between you.

“Anyone else need a karkin’ beer?”

Several sets of eyes slip towards Fox, a few amused, some playfully irritated.

“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re bored,” Vaughn remarks.

Fox makes an exasperated sound in the back of his throat before throwing himself into the sofa, his empty plate now haphazardly balanced on the cushioned arm. You bite back a comment warning him to be careful for fear of sounding more like his mother than his friend. “No, I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I haven’t had a drink in ages.”

“Careful, vod.” Sterling’s eyes are sparkling mischievously. “You remember what happened last time.”

Ah, yes. Last time. He’d had too much booze and too little food, and ended up doing karaoke at the bar until he got booed off stage. And the only thing that could cheer him up was a bit of friendly flirting and reassurance. From you, of course. Friendly, of course. Not that you still found yourself thinking about that night, or how close he’d been when he asked you if you thought he was pretty. Because you didn’t.

But rather than simmer in his embarrassment, Fox shrugs it off with something of a cocky smile. “That was last time. This time, my belly’s already full. All thanks to our mesh’la.” And he raises his glass of water in a toast to you.

“Mesh’la, smesh’la, I’m not encouraging you.” Rather than sit and be the center of his and his brother’s attention, you push yourself out of your seat and start collecting dishes. “If you wanna go make a fool out of yourself, you’re not roping me into it.” And you truly, deeply hope that none of them can tell you’re lying through your teeth. Because the mere thought of Fox being so close to you again, of whispering all his cheesy one-liners and sweet nothings into your ear, it makes your legs go completely boneless.

The only problem with this is that Fox is, well, Fox. The man could charm the pants off a Gungan if he tried, and you’re honestly not convinced that he hasn’t. So when you approach him and wordlessly reach for his plate, rather than give it to you, he takes your hand in his and he smiles that devilish smile that’s made every life form on the planet melt these past two years. “C’mon,” he whispers. He’s pulled his brows into a pleasant, pleading sort of shape, letting them turn up at the inner corners as he watches you. “It’ll be fun.”

Your throat is suddenly very dry. “You think everything’s fun.”

“’cause it is.”

He’s impossible. He’s an idiot. He’s going to make a fool out of himself again, you’re sure of it. And he’s doing his best to charm you, and it is, unfortunately, working, against your better judgement. “Fox.”

He grins. “Yes?”

“You’re kriffing annoying, you know that?”

His thumb runs semi-circles across the back of your hand, and you swear your brain short circuits. Damn him. “It’s a gift.”

Tai and Sterling elect to stay in for the night. Tai’s nerve pain seems to be flaring up again and Sterling’s hardly a bar-goer, so sticking around for his brother’s sake is much more appealing than a night out with Fox. You’re surprised that Appo decides to come along, though.

“Someone has to keep an eye on that di’kut,” he explains once you ask. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself in trouble.”

Even now that the war is over and their lives as soldiers are far behind them, he refuses to leave his role as commander behind. Not for the first time, you find yourself ruminating on this and the way the realization makes your stomach feel fluttery and your heart feel warm. He’s a good leader, he’s a good brother, and it’s another footnote in your expansive list of why you’ve found yourself falling fast and hard for the brothers of the 501st.

But those are thoughts best left behind on a night like this. You can’t let yourself dwell on it if there’s going to be alcohol, so you push it all as far from your consciousness as possible and choose instead to focus on having fun with your friends, on the pretty lights and mostly good music and the too-sweet flavor of your berry-infused shot.

“-and I was like, ‘no way, the first season is way better than the second!’”

From what you remember, Vaughn’s been caught up in some holo-soap. It’s been taking up a lot of his attention when he’s not working or out painting his murals, but it’s honestly not your thing and you only barely understand what he’s talking about. His brothers, however, don’t seem nearly as lost as you feel.

Fox takes a long swig of his beer and arches his eyebrow incredulously. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you think the actress is hot.”

Vaughn’s attention flickers to you for a moment. He stammers wordlessly for a couple of seconds and you’re sure that if you could see it, he’d be entirely flushed. “Pfft, no. It’s all about the story. Substance, vod. Hotness is secondary.”

Even Appo looks doubtful at that. “Since when?”

He frowns. “Shut up. Neither of you’d know substance if it bit you in the shebs.” To you, he leans in a bit and pretends to lower his voice as if he’s relaying a secret. “Imagine being the only one of your batch with decent taste.”

Despite your earlier dinner, the alcohol has already started to make its way through your blood stream. You’re only buzzed at the moment, but it’s enough to make this otherwise ordinary remark seem outrageously funny, and you end up having to smother your laughter in the crook of your arm.

It’s then that something calls out over the din of the bar.

In all the time you’ve known him, Appo has never been one for grand expressions. He conveys what he needs to in the movement of his eyebrows, the subtlety of his eyes, the tilting of his head, the lilt of his voice. So the moment that he responds to the calling of his name with a wide-eyed, panicked expression and the sudden ramrod straightness of his back, you know that something’s not right.

A yellow-green Nautolan passing by the table, the one that had called his name, claps a hand on his shoulder just as Appo shifts to turn toward him. “That is you!” he exclaims in a smooth, smoky voice. He laughs quite happily, enough that his head tentacles jostle. “It’s been, what, months now?”

“Something like that.”

You’ve never seen him like this before, so unyieldingly stiff and uncomfortable, yet it’s clear he knows this man. Even the others seem unsure what to make of this interaction, though there’s something more than mere uncertainty in the looks Vaughn and Fox are passing each other. They look worried? Anxious?

The Nautolan takes this lull in the conversation to acknowledge the rest of the table. “Sorry to interrupt, fellas, ma’am. Appo ‘n’ me go back a bit, haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” you offer in place of everyone else’s silence.

He extends his hand, and you take it. “Benshar. I hope you haven’t been keeping him from me!”

Appo outwardly cringes, more than you’ve ever seen him do before, not even the last time Fox got plastered. What in the galaxy…?

You absently wonder if there’s some sort of love triangle going on that you’re unaware of, but quickly abandon the thought the moment it comes to you. Sterling and Appo might be of the persuasion of all genders, but Sterling isn’t here and even so, neither of them seem the type to be interested in the same person, let alone allowing themselves to get caught up in that kind of drama. No, something else must be going on.

You smile. “No, no, of course not. But if you two need some time to catch up, we could always-“

“That won’t be necessary.” Appo clears his throat as the attention suddenly falls solely on him. His hand hooks around Benshar’s elbow as he suddenly backs away from the table. “C’mon.” And just like that, he’s gone.

“Okay,” you begin the moment they’re out of earshot, “what the hell was that?”

Vaughn downs the rest of his drink. Fox takes a ridiculously long swig. Neither of them audibly speaks, but they’re very clearly communicating to each other in a way only clones seem to understand. You doubt you’ll ever be able to master the subtle cues they’ve spent a solid decade practicing, but it does leave you out of the loop this time, the one time it really matters.

“Guys, I’m not stupid. Clearly that was something. What is it?”

A few seconds pass before Vaughn shifts uncomfortably. “Old flame.” He refuses to look you in the eye.

It takes a minute, but it hits you like a ton of duracrete. Of course. Of course. You’d thought about it before, wondered how a group of five handsome and very capable young men could go two whole years without any kind of sex life. There have been isolated incidents in the past where you’d wake up in the middle of the night because you thought you’d heard something in the adjoining room, or a muffled grunt or two coming from the shower early in the morning, but not once have they ever asked to bring somebody home. Not once have you ever seen them kiss another being. You know they feel attraction because they joke about it enough, because Appo and Sterling have both referenced previous encounters. And you know Fox has gotten laid several times since coming to Aurea – how could he not? he’d flirt with a tree if it would flirt back with him – but he’s never bragged about it in your presence, never rubbed it in like salt in his brothers’ wounds. But somehow, you’d thought, you’d hoped that it was because maybe… maybe that unspoken feeling that sits deep in your heart isn’t as one-sided as you’ve always known it to be.

It’s a foolish hope. It’s stupid to think a single one of these men could ever want you in the way that you want them. Surely they’d have made a move by now if they did. But Maker, it hurts. It hurts to know that someone else on this planet has known the taste of Appo’s lips, has heard him sigh and moan, has probably taken him out on dates and showered him in affection, and it hurts that that someone isn’t you. You watch Fox for a bit, trail your eyes along his tattoos, then to Vaughn and the puckered scar in his cheek, and it’s like a vibroblade to your heart. Someone who isn’t you has known them as well, has felt the touch of their skin, their lips, has felt their love.

“So he was flirting. That guy.” It comes out unbidden and a touch more bitter than you mean it to.

Vaughn snorts. “Not very well.”

And you know you shouldn’t say it, really, you do. You know it reveals too much, you know it should embarrass you, but you know if you don’t, you’ll burst. You eyeball your empty shot glass, tongue tucked into your cheek, and shake your head with a humorless laugh. “I need another drink.”

The whole walk to the bar, the whole conversation with the server, the entire wait, and the whole walk back, it’s all you think about – people have known these men, your men, and those people weren’t you. There could be any number of reasons why, they might respect you too much, they might not want to lose out on a good flat if things went south with you, they might want things they feel you can’t give them, and every reason is understandable, but all you can feel is that they went searching for love and pleasure and it never occurred to them to come find you. It’s stupid, really, because it’s not like they owe it to you. It’s not like you’ve ever made your feelings clear beyond a few isolated, innocent comments made in a clearly friendly setting, something meant to be seen as either a compliment or a joke and nothing more.

You’re intoxicated, you finally decide, and that’s the reason it hurts so much. Best thing to do is just drown it out and hope it goes away. You know it won’t, but it’s better than wallowing in your misery. Probably.

You down one shot when you return to the table, but there’s still the massive stein of liquor, one of the brands on the stronger end of the spectrum of what you can handle. Both men eye you warily when you start drinking and you know they have every right to because it’s obvious that you’re not yourself right now.

“What?” They don’t say anything, but the judgement is clear. “Oh please, it’s not like I’m gonna pull a Fox. ‘sides, I’m gonna need something stronger if we’re gonna start talking about our love lives.”

“You okay?” Vaughn asks. He tacks your name onto the end when you shrug him off. “I’m serious. You good?”

“Course I am!” And it’s a bit too cheery, too fake, too not-you. It has to be to keep the tears at bay.

They share another look, and it just adds insult to injury to know that they don’t trust you. Or maybe those shots are running through you quicker than you thought they would.

“Okay. Who else is seeing someone and didn’t tell me? Fox?”

He splutters disbelievingly at the accusation. “Why’re you lookin’ at me?”

“’cause you’re a flirt, Fox. But that’s okay, it’s part of your charm. I’m just surprised I haven’t walked in on you and some pretty Twi’lek in our shower, to be honest.”

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, just stop! Talking! That’s the logical part of your brain, the sober part that’s going down kicking and screaming. The liquor is loosening your tongue, and the angst is coloring it all a distinct shade of envy. It doesn’t occur to you that Fox might take offense, or that you’re the one making a fool of yourself this time, not him, not when all you can feel is the incredible pain of longing for something that was never even yours.

Vaughn’s hand comes into view then, his fingers wrapping around the circumference of your stein to gently tug it back onto the table. “Hey.” He’s gentle, strong. “Why don’t you drink some water first?”

“I’m fine.” You’re not so far gone that you don’t understand what he’s suggesting. “I’m not drunk.” But you’re getting there. “What about you? You been seeing anyone and keeping it a secret?”

His brows are deeply furrowed as he considers you. “Why?”

“Well, ‘cause clearly everyone in the flat can get some except for me!”

Funny how that’s not what you’d meant to say. Funny how it’s still so true. You think about that pretty Nautolan and how excited he was to see Appo, despite Appo’s obvious discomfort, and you feel your entire body shrink in on itself.

“Doesn’t matter,” you finally say. “I’m happy you guys can find that if you need it.” You’re happy because you want them to be happy. Doesn’t mean it’s not killing you inside. “Just wish I could find it, too.”

The bar suddenly feels too loud and too warm, overcrowded and greasy and uncomfortable even though nothing has changed from this moment and the last. Maybe it’s the weight of Fox and Vaughn’s attention, maybe it’s the weight of feeling so startlingly alone when mere minutes ago you felt as though you had the best family in the galaxy.

“Is that what this is about?” You look up from the intricate wood grain of the table and into Fox’s eyes. Maker, those big, brown eyes. They all have the same ones. So beautiful, so dark and endless. “You lonely, mesh’la?”

“No,” but your face is clearly saying yes.

“Nothing wrong with being lonely. We’ve all been there. Tell you what,” and he shifts closer to you so that your shoulders are pressing together and some of his heat comes over you. If this is the most you’ll ever get, then you’ll take it and run with it. “We’ll help you snag someone, yeah? How about him, over there?”

Following the line of his arm to one of the other tables, you see a handsome young man with a gorgeous head of curly hair, dark skin, and a nose ring. He has a nice laugh and a tall, lithe build.

“Bet he’d treat you good.”

“Vod.” You don’t dare to read into the irritation in Vaughn’s voice, but you let yourself imagine for a moment what it would be like if he were jealous.

His brother ignores him. “Or him.” Another person is pointed out to you, a Pantoran with broad shoulders and a bit of stubble. He’s handsome enough, but his build instantly reminds you of Fox, so you shake your head. “Alright, you pick someone and we’ll make it happen.”

“’We’?” Vaughn scoffs. “Don’t bring me into this one, mate.”

Pick someone. He doesn’t even realize how dangerous that offer is. Three of your first five picks are already in the building.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell him after mulling the idea over. Another swig of alcohol pools in your belly. “You might not like who I pick out.”

“Your taste is that bad, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Tall, dark, and handsome. It’s a fucking curse.”

Fox’s eyes darken for a moment, as if something’s occurred to him that he knows he ought not repeat. But then comes that smirk, the one that curls up in the corner of his mouth and makes your head feel light, the one he only ever gets when he’s acting like an absolute menace. “Tall, dark, and handsome. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were talkin’ about me.”

Vaughn damn near jumps across the table. “Fox!”

With his eyes still caught on you, Fox huffs. “Kriff off, Vaughn.”

You take a quick sip of your drink, careful and slow so as not to spill, before giving your answer. “I was.” It comes with its own smirk.

You’ve heard that time travel isn’t really plausible. It happens in small amounts when travelling great distances, when going off-world, but such events are so common nowadays that no one really thinks about it too hard. The computers do most of the thinking for you, anyways. But here in this shitty little bar on this mediocre little trade planet, lightyears away from anything truly important in the galaxy, you feel as though time has slowed itself just for you.

You swore you’d never say anything. You promised yourself you’d never let yourself go down this road. You and Fox have something of a platonically flirty friendship, but there are boundaries neither of you have ever crossed. This moment right here, the subtle glimmer of desire in his eyes, the way you’re gazing up through your lashes at him, the outright admittance that yes, he is handsome and yes, you’ve always known it, none of it is friendly and you both know it.

“Your taste can’t be that bad if I’m on the list.”

You shrug nonchalantly, as if your heart isn’t about to beat right out of your chest. “It’s not a long list.”

“Oh? Care to share?”

You could lay it all on the table now. He’s egging you on, he clearly wants to know, and Maker knows you want to tell him. You want every single one of them to know that you harbor feelings for them and that those feelings run deep. You want them to know because maybe, just maybe, if you bat your eyes and tilt your head just right and they consider even looking your way, they’ll see what they’ve been missing out on, what’s been missing them for all this time. That maybe one of them will have an ‘aha!’ moment and realize that you’re everything he ever needed. It’s desperate. It’s embarrassing. But in this moment, that’s all you really are. A lonely girl with her lonely heart, desperate for one of the men she’s fallen for to see her as she is.

One of your hands drifts in Fox’s direction then, almost of its own accord. You play with the idea of touching the rolled-up hem of his sleeve, but ultimately settled for hovering your hand over it instead. “I don’t know. You got any old flames that haunt this bar? I’d hate to put my heart on my sleeve just for some pretty thing to come along and squash it.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting him to do in response, but leaning further into your space, letting his forearm fill the curve of your palm and his cologne wash over you? Ducking his head down to smile at you as if you’re the only person in the galaxy he has eyes for? It’s almost too much to hope for.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks. “Don’t be a tease, baby. You got somethin’ to say? Let’s hear it.”

This can’t be real. You’re imagining it? You’re so drunk that you’re making shit up. For surely it’s not Fox who’s flirting with you and meaning every word, who’s crowding you up against the edge of the table and making you feel so small in the best possible way. But then he sighs, and his breath hits your face, and your eyes flutter shut. Somewhere in the background, you can hear Vaughn talking, but none of the words are getting through to you. It’s all just white noise.

“Your list, mesh’la. I wanna hear it.”

“Short list,” you whisper, even though you’ve already said it. “Only five names.”

His burning eyes dip below your nose and you swear you see into another dimension at the implication.

“What the hell is going on here?”

It doesn’t fully register to you that the voice isn’t Fox’s, not at first. They are, after all, clones. The whole point is that they’re identical to each other. It takes Fox moving away and the awkward silence and coolness that he leaves in his wake for you to catch up. He never moved his mouth, did he? That’s when you see Appo.

The mock salute you give him only worsens the lines of his frown. “Commander. Have fun with your boyfriend?”

He studies you in the time it takes you to remember how to breathe and then take another drink. He scowls. “You’re drunk.”

“Not fully, but getting there.” The accompanying finger guns don’t sell him on the idea like you thought they would. “We missed you.”

The scowl morphs into a sneer, and it’s practically murderous. “Didn’t look it to me.” To Fox, he starts, “Take her home. Before I decide to kick your shebs.”

And doesn’t that just burn? He’s so angered at the thought of you being close to his brother, so irritated at the thought of you finding a bit of joy, that he wants you gone? If you were anywhere near any form of logical thinking, you might be able to see this for what it is. But instead of fact, your spotchka-addled brain weaves a brand of fiction so bizarre that it only makes sense to you.

“Want me out of the way so you can canoodle with your boyfriend, Appo?”

His face snaps towards yours, his eyes so wide that you’re almost worried they’ll pop out of his head, but it seems the comment has left him speechless. Good, more room for you to dig your grave.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” Liar. This whole evening is proof of exactly the opposite.

His hand flexes at his side. Maker, he looks angry. It shouldn’t tickle you the way it does, yet you can’t help reveling in it. He broke your heart just now. Drunken logic dictates that he should feel just as horrible as you.

Rather than deign you with any kind of response, though, Appo chooses to leave. Sober you will thank the stars for this, but in this moment all you feel is the cleaving of a blade through your heart, another confirmation that Appo is lost to you, that all of them are lost to you. There’s no more fight left after that.

Fox takes care of the bill and the table while Vaughn escorts you outside. They both help you into the land speeder – Appo’s speeder – and they take you home.

“You’re on the list, you know. All of you.” And as you stare up at Vaughn from beneath your lashes, hoping against hope, burning every last bridge of friendship you’ve built, you think that he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever met. You press your palm into the swell of his chest, where he’s warm and muscled under the flap of his leather jacket, and you cry. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.”

You don’t remember anything after that.

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imarvelatthestars · 5 months

Text

II - Sha'kajir

masterlist

Pairings: f!reader x Tai, Commander Appo, Captain Vaughn, Sergeant Fox, & Sterling [no cl*necest!]

Content: talk of polyamory (I guess more technically polyandry?) and consent, kissing, Fox being a menace flirt, some brotherly snark

sha'kajir [adj., shah·kah·jeer] - over a meal, the breaking of bread

It's no surprise that the boys are gathered together when he comes home. For an instant, he can almost pretend he’s back on Kamino, or on Coruscant, that things have never changed. He’s still their commander and they still look to him when the galaxy comes crashing down around them. But it’s only a fleeting thing, and reality is quick to shatter that illusion.

Fox immediately stands when he sees him. “Appo-“

“Save it.” He’s not sure how long it’s been, an hour, maybe two, but he’s calmed down now. He doesn’t want to hear whatever shit excuse his vod’s got lined up. To the whole group, he nods, his jaw set and hip cocked. “We need to talk.”

“What the hell happened?” asks Sterling.

“They didn’t tell you?”

“Wanna hear it from you, vod,” says Tai, looking more serious than Appo’s seen him in a long time.

He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Course they do. He could tell them to kriff off and mind their business, of course, but that wouldn’t help. And it’s not what a commander would do, it’s cowardly.

“Kriffin’ Benshar happened.” A litany of groans sound from each brother. Appo situates himself at the near end of the sofa and perches on the edge of the arm. “I thought if I could get him away from the table, it wouldn’t be so bad. I didn’t, didn’t want her to know.” The words are heavy on his tongue, weighed down with the embarrassment of admitting the truth. “You can imagine my surprise when I come back and Fox has her pinned to the table like he’s about to bend her over and-“

“I wasn’t thinkin’! She was flirtin’ with me, Ap. The hell d’you want me to do, turn her down?”

Vaughn’s elbow hits him hard in the ribs. “That’s kinda the point, mate. We all made a deal: no one makes a move. You’re supposed to keep it in your pants.”

“I did.”

“That’s not what that was,” Appo snaps, “and you fucking know it.”

Even now, he can still visualize the picture you made together. Fox taking up all your space, grinning, posturing, fucking making a move when he knew damn well he wasn’t supposed to! And then there was you, looking so damn pretty with your fuck-me eyes and your little blue dress. Fucking 501st colors.

He rubs a hand at the sore spot on his temple and sighs. “Never mind. We need damage control, boys.”

A few of them shift uncomfortably, but Sterling looks almost amused. Almost. “Getting ahead of yourself there.”

Appo doesn’t need to ask. Vaughn volunteers the information a few moments later. “She said something to me. In the speeder. It… I don’t know what she meant, if she meant me or, or us? But she said it.” And he looks utterly wrecked at the thought.

“Said what?”

Fox runs a hand through his hair, mussing up some of the curls at his crown. “We were talkin’ about a list before you got there. What kind of guys she liked.” He cringes at his eldest brother’s glare but continues on. “She said there were only five spots on that list. Then in the speeder, she said it was all of us.”

Vaughn drops his head. “And she said she loved us.”

And Appo’s almost certain he blacks out. Blaster fire, cannon fire, kriffing friendly fire would be better than this. Any number of his nightmares would be better than this because this so far beyond anything he’s ever dealt with before. A battlefield, he knows how to handle. A love confession?

“Shit.” He’s not aware he’s said it until Tai makes some vague approximation of an exhaled laugh.

“Yeah.”

His mind is racing now. Is there a protocol for this? Some sort of nat-born etiquette that could get them out of this? Love. What do you mean by love? Platonic love? (Doubtful, but he doesn’t want to give himself hope just yet.) Vod-type love? That kind of love? (He thoughts drift for the briefest of seconds to how you looked in the bar, melting into Fox’s touch, and, he hates himself for it but, his dick twitches in his pants.)

“Damage control,” he says once he feels that he can breathe again. “We need contingencies. Vaughn, what exactly did she say?”

“’I didn’t mean to fall in love you.’”

“That’s it? That could mean anything! She loves you, you? Or she loves you, all of us?”

Vaughn’s shoulders have risen so high that they’re rubbing his ears. He looks like shit, honestly. Looks like he’s gonna be sick. “I don’t know! She just started crying after that, so I was trying to keep her calm. Like a damn shiny, vod, she wouldn’t stop.”

“And she was a wreck when she came in,” Tai adds. He’s still in the same chair he was in when the group left for the bar, which means he got a front row seat to the whole thing. “Almost puked all over Vaughn.”

It’s this notion that makes something click in Appo’s mind. He straightens up and starts turning his head this way and that. “Where is she?”

“Bedroom. Passed out after Vaughn and me got some food in her.” Sterling extends a hand when he sees the concern on his brother’s face. “She’s fine. I checked on her before you came in.”

Appo’s already on his feet. “She’ll choke if she vomits.” All those years of taking care of boozed up vode and it’s finally becoming useful. That’s what this is. That’s all it is.

That’s all it is until he opens your door, sees you snoring in a pile of blankets and with all your kit still on. You’ve got half a sock on and one leg hanging over the edge of the bed. You look ridiculous, but he’s never in his life felt so enamored by another person like he does right now. There have been natties of every gender in his bed, humans that made him feel like a shy little youngling and Twi’leks that sent his brain into overdrive, and he thinks he’s loved a few along the way. Never anything serious, never something big, and certainly never enough to rival the love he has for his brothers. But he sees you now, drunk and asleep and the most beautiful thing he’s ever known, and he knows that he’s a fool if he thinks he could ever walk away from you unscathed.

You stir when he sits on the edge of your bed. There’s just enough light coming in from the hall to illuminate your bloodshot and glassy eyes as you try to orient yourself.

“Go back to sleep,” he commands, but it’s hardly more than a whisper. He pulls your dangling leg into his lap and gently tugs your sock back into place.

You seem to consider it for a heartbeat or two, which only has Appo shaking his head. It wasn’t a suggestion, but of course you’re going to take it as one. Stubborn dala. He’s hardly opened his mouth to chastise you when you pull your foot from his grasp and poke your toes into his thigh.

“Icky,” you say. Then, “Mkay, g’night.” And you’re out like a light.

He doesn’t venture beyond your four walls for the rest of the night, couldn’t even if he wanted. He’s on guard duty.

There’s a few moments of blissful ignorance when you first wake. You see the sunlight coming through the blinds, you feel the warmth of it on your face, and you take a deep breath in before it hits you like a tidal wave. Dread sinks so low in your gut that you’re almost afraid it’s gonna rip right though you and leave a gaping hole behind. Could also be your bladder begging for relief.

The bar. Maker, what the hell were you thinking? A solid year of keeping your feelings a secret and all it took was seeing some pretty boy chat Appo up before you unraveled it all yourself?

You’re seconds away from bawling your fists into your eye sockets and crying, but the shuffling of fabric on fabric and the gentle flutter of breath elsewhere in the room startles you. Your entire body freezes as you race to catch up to the sudden awareness of your surroundings, and then you wish you’d never even tried because kriff, it’s Appo. An awful silence settles between you, thick and heavy, as he drags himself to his feet.

How long was he there? And why? His eyes are bloodshot, his clothes heavily wrinkled.

“Appo…”

“Get some rest,” he says as he starts for the door. He’s rolling his shoulders forwards and back. “You need it.”

No, no, no, no, no, something’s not right, you can feel it. His body is drenched in the wrongness of it. “Appo,” and you peel back the covers to follow him, but are immediately hit with a wave of nausea that forces you back down. “Fuck.”

The discomfort lingers until he returns, and even after, though it’s soothed by the water he supplies.

“I’m so sorry.”

Appo is so often silent, but this time is different. You hate this silence. There’s no comfort in it, no unspoken camaraderie here in the wake of your destruction, only the knowledge that things are different now and they always will be. Because you opened your mouth and let your heart dictate your tongue.

“I was an ass. I’m sorry.”

No birds sing this morning, no cheerful tunes chirp from tree to tree in the space beyond your windows. The water is as cold as the man who brought it, the man you love. The man you’ve lost.

“I know,” he concedes. And still, he refuses to meet your eyes. “Take the morning. Sleep off that hangover.”

There isn’t anything left to say after this. Appo bids you goodbye with a nod of his head, far more polite and restrained than he’s been since you first met him, and he disappears further into the flat. You can make out the sound of muted conversation, the shuffling of boots on carpet, and the final clicking of the front door as he lets himself out.

Tai is the one who knocks at your door some minutes later, after you’ve ventured to the fresher to relieve yourself. He leans rather awkwardly on his cane as you size each other up; apparently neither one of you is able to verbalize a single thought. It kills you. While Tai is often the more reserved of his batch, you and he have never had any trouble making conversation, have never struggled to connect until now.

You glance at the hand tightened into a fist by his hip and are immediately hit with a pang of concern. “Are you alright?” you ask as you move to stand, the awkwardness momentarily forgotten at the thought of him suffering through another bought of nerve pain for the second day in a row. “Do you need a-“

“I’m alright,” he says tiredly. “I’m alright. Don’t worry about me. You should get some rest yourself.”

You don’t even bother to hide the rolling of your eyes. “Is that what Appo said? Because I’m fine now. And I don’t want to rest.” Resting means time. Time means thinking, and thinking means a reflection on every mistake you’ve made in the past rotation and you’re not ready or able to do that yet. “We have work to do.”

“It can wait.”

“Really?”

He looks tired when you stop to look at him properly. His eyes are creasing heavily, his shoulders tight, and his expression is guarded. For once, you’re not able to read him, but what you can tell is that he’s not interested in starting an argument. And you don’t want to do that to him.

Another approach is in order, then.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m okay. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten drunk, and I know what I can handle. I can handle work today.” The inside of your cheek stings when your teeth bite down a bit too hard. “It wouldn’t be fair for me to stay home and rest while you go and do all of your work and mine in my place. We’re a team.”

It’s just a question of how long that team will keep working before it all falls apart. Lingering on that won’t do you any favors, but you already know the thought will follow you the rest of the day. Making yourself busy is the only way to avoid it.

Luckily, Tai seems convinced, or at least unwilling to press the issue further. He nods. “Meet you outside, then.”

One of the many amazing changes that the boys made to your life was the shift in your employment. Before them, you’d been stuck in a dead-end job with a shit income, spending your days stuck in the monotony of waking up, working, and going back to sleep only to do it all over again the following day. There was hardly any joy in the existence you’d attempted to carve out for yourself, apart from gossip shared at the proverbial water cooler and the few friends you’d made. But with their presence and especially with Tai’s help, you’ve come to enjoy waking up each morning.

It starts with a drive in the land speeder you share – not nearly as nice as Appo’s since his is funded mostly by the taxi service that employs him, but it’s decent enough – to the lake, where you clamber into your rickety old fishing boat and set up your gear. Some days you’re on this boat until the sun goes down, some days for just a few hours, but it always manages to bring some peace and quiet to the restless workings of your mind. The water is a piercing blue, so vibrant and bright that it’s like looking at a painting, and the hills that amble along the coast are dotted with trees and ferns and the occasional critter.

Today, however, your peace is angular and brittle. It cracks every time you attempt to make conversation that ultimately falls flat. Tai has taken his woodcarving tools with him again, as he usually does, but he doesn’t bridge the gaping chasm of quiet that settles in the boat. He makes no effort to respond to you in all the little ways you’ve come to know. There are no half-smiles, no gentle laughter, no almost-touches of hands on hands in the game the pair of you have been playing of late.

If it weren’t for the previous night, you would simply assume his pain level had increased and thought nothing more of it. But last night happened. And he may not have been in the bar, but there’s no doubting the fact that your stupidity was discussed once you were asleep. He knows. He knows and, apparently, he doesn’t like it.

The lake seems duller today than you’ve ever known it to be. The song of the tūī bird is harsh in your ears, not at all the pleasantly eager and melodic chirping you normally consider it to be. The waters are flat and lifeless. The fish are less inclined to take the bait this morning, and so the bucket meant to hold your catches remains mostly empty, as if the planet itself has sensed your despair and has decided to stand with you in solidarity. You’d rather it didn’t.

With so few catches, there’s nothing to sell at the market today, so you and Tai decide to call it a day and return home early. This somehow manages to make you feel worse. The flat feels cold and unwelcoming, not because of anything material, but because it lacks the warmth of the four other men who call it home, because you know that whatever comfort they might bring home with them will likely be gone for good in the morning when they sit you down and say, “thanks, but no thanks, not interested, have a good life”.

In fact, you’re such a mess by the time the first of the men comes home that you nearly make yourself sick with all your worrying. It’s not Appo, thankfully, but seeing Fox is almost as bad because you realize the instant he comes through the door that you haven’t seen him since he flirted with you last night. Heat flushes the entirety of your body as you’re flung into the memory of his scent, his voice, the admission that became the first nail in the coffin of your friendship.

There’s no cheery greeting for you today, no arms spread wide as he bombards you with his infectious energy and charming annoying questions. All he gives you is a weary smile and sad eyes. He doesn’t even look like himself. None of this is right. He should be squeezing you to death in the grip of his bear hug, he should be teasing you and you should be ribbing him about it, flirting like you always have and pretending it means nothing. Even though it means everything. Always has, always will.

“Hi.” You try to cram as much of your fears and joys into this one word. He’ll understand. Fox always understands.

The corner of his mouth tucks in, but there’s no dimple in his cheek and no cheeky glint in his eye. “Hey.” The sentence feels wrong without his characteristic “mesh’la” tacked onto the end.

So he’s lost too, then. Another soldier adrift in the wreckage of your heart.

He notes the pots of steaming food atop the oven with a raised eyebrow. “Thought it was Appo’s turn tonight?”

You swallow nervously. “It is. But I thought maybe it might be nice to do something for all you guys. My way of making up for... everything.” Code for: I fucked up and I know this is our last night, but let’s pretend for a bit that it’s not.

He comes out of the bathroom a bit later and sits himself in the chair beside yours. No words, no gestures, but there’s the smell of his cologne and a freshly washed flannel, and oddly enough, that’s what makes you cry. Realizing that this may very well be the last time you’ll ever see that shirt, the last chance you’ll have to inhale his scent as he walks by and try to carve its notes into the underside of your bones. You see Tai settled into one end of the sofa with all his carving implements laid out on his serving tray. He’s whittling away at a bit of wood, and he’s not eating. None of you are eating. They must both be feeling as sick as you are.

“Hey.”

He's so impossibly soft when he says it; it only makes the crying worse, but you do an incredible job of smiling through it. “I’m fine,” you assure him, “I’m fine. It’s okay.”

Fox frowns at you. “You’re sad.”

“No, no, I’m okay.”

Sterling’s timing is truly impeccable. The door is hardly shut behind him when he sees the sniffling mess you’ve become. “Oh, whadjya do this time, Fox?”

It’s this attempt at normalcy that brings a smile to your face. “Nothing,” you both respond in wildly different tones, and that’s enough to make you laugh.

“I swear, let you two in a room for five minutes and the galaxy implodes.” Not a trace of anger to be found, not a bit of irritation or resentment. He wanders over to press a kiss to the top of your head and it’s almost as if things are still normal. It’s a kiss you will treasure till the end of your days. “Chin up, cyar’ika.”

You stare through your tears in Fox’s direction, entirely incredulous and thoroughly disoriented. His smile is a touch more genuine and it’s enough to soothe the stinging ache that’s centered itself beneath your sternum.

Appo and Vaughn return together, chatting quietly and almost entirely in Mando’a, which you’ve not heard them do since the first month they stayed here. As a result, there aren’t many words you recognize since you’ve never had the need to learn any. You do, however, recognize one word that isn’t theirs; it’s Aurean, specifically eastern Aurean – the dialect spoken in this corner of the world.

Taonga is a cherished word among the people here, whether they are native to Aurea or not. It implies a familiarity that goes beyond simply knowing. When something is taonga, it is precious, it is so treasured by the being that claims it that it’s reserved only for the most valuable of things – a family heirloom, a priceless artifact on display in a museum, a lock of hair from your beloved. These things hold a special power within them, according to Aurean tradition, and that power must be protected by the claimant at all costs.But Aurean is not the tongue of the clones and the only thing you would ever consider taonga to them is each other, maybe even their armor.

You don’t want to imagine what it could mean, yet you simultaneously can’t help also longing to know. To imagine is to let your heart run away with you again, to wonder is to be foolish and revel in the daydreams of what-if and if-only. These fantasies can only bring you pain, but it’s the last hope found in the embers of a dying friendship and you are so desperate now, so frazzled from an entire day’s worth of worrying, that you will grasp at any straws you can find so long as they promise that these men who you’ve come to respect and admire aren’t about to walk out your door for the final time.

When the last of the brothers come out of the back room, freshly changed and a bit brighter in their eyes, the tension in your belly finally snaps.

“Appo.” You find yourself on your feet before your brain has a chance to consciously issue the command. “Vaughn, I…” You start wringing your hands together. Maker, what can you say that will fix this? “Please, I’m so-“

“It’s alright,” says Vaughn as he settles a hand on your shoulder. He’s so warm, so real that you lean into his touch by default. “Sit down, yeah?”

You’ve been sitting for far too long, it’s starting to make you stir crazy. “No, I’m fine. I just need to talk to you guys. I’ve been making myself sick about it all day.”

Fox shakes his head. “We all have.”

Guilt creeps in between your joints to wrap itself around your heart. “I’m so sorry. All of you. I made an absolute fool out of myself last night and I feel fucking awful about it.” You survey the living room and each brother in his respective spot. You finally have their attention and it’s the exact opposite of everything you ever wanted it to be. It’s a nightmare. “Appo, what I said to you. That was wrong of me. I was so drunk and, and…” Kriff, you have to say it. You have to actually say it now and you can’t back out. “I was jealous.”

His face is as impassive as ever. Your skin burns. You turn to Fox. “I shouldn’t have flirted with you. I know better than that.” Then Vaughn. It’s the last real memory you have – melting into his chest and wallowing in your self-pity, declaring your feelings without pause. “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t feel like enough to mend the wound you’ve ripped open, it simply isn’t enough, but it’s all you have. This is all you can give.

A few moments pass as your apologies start to settle, and then Vaughn sighs. “Did you mean it?”

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.

“Yes.” What’s the use in lying when the truth is what got you into this mess?

A couple of sharp inhalations, the hanging of a head, a heavy exhale, and the steady bobbing of the lump in Vaughn’s throat is the response given. He seems truly lost for words for the first time.

“Just him? Or all of us?” And of course, it’s Fox. You can’t say you’d expect any of the others to ask it the way he does, all doe-eyed and tender as if he were the softest man alive. It’s a vulnerability you’ve caught glimpses of, but never seen outright, not like this.

You know your truth, have done for a while. Sharing it is another matter. The fear of judgement still looms overhead, the fear of your honesty being met with disgust and reproach. But how can you deny it? You flirted with Fox so openly, you started this because of Appo’s kriffing ex, the only answer you can give is the one you’re terrified of verbalizing, but there’s a knife in your throat the moment you try.

“I, I…”

Sterling is watching you with mute resignation – whatever you say, he’ll likely accept, but you can’t tell which way he wants it to go. Vaughn looks about as anxious as you feel. He doesn’t hide his emotions very well, but just this once you wish he could. Tai evades your eyes the moment you cast them in his direction. His thumb drifts across the surface of his carving, tools long abandoned. He’s as unreadable as Sterling is. Appo’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, his arms crossed over his chest as he considers you. And Fox, waiting, wanting.

“I don’t think you’ll like the answer.” It’s a cheap callback to the moment you set this all in motion. With your head bowed and your hands shaking, you press your eyelids shut and take a single breath. Just say it now and be done with it. “It’s all of you. It’s always been all of you.” And when not a single person speaks, you feel your very spirit start to crumble. You throw yourself back into your chair and bury your face in your hands in a pathetic attempt to hide your tears, but you know there’s no point. They’ll hear it when you speak. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mesh’la.”

“No!” you sob as you recoil into yourself at Fox’s touch. You can’t even tell where he is, but you don’t dare open your eyes and see their disappointment.

You’re maneuvered into his arms anyway. One of his massive arms wraps around your back while the other curls around your shoulders so he can rest his hand at the base of your neck. The position leaves you little choice but to fold into him and accept defeat.

He smells so good. Why is it always that? Even when your heart is breaking, it’s impossible not to drown in his scent. It’s infuriating, it’s embarrassing, you’re embarrassing! You’re the biggest idiot you know! How could you have let this happen? How did you ever let it get this far?

Fox is whispering to you all through this. Whatever he’s saying, it’s not really hitting you, but you can still feel his presence all around you. It’s an anchor binding you to his shoreline, standing steadfast against every wave of grief and broken pride that threatens to overwhelm you.

“It’s okay,” he says when you can finally hear him, “it’s okay, baby. Don’t cry.”

But that only makes it worse. How can you stop crying when what’s on the line is him and his brothers?

His hand is a gentle caress on your skin as he prompts your head out from the warmth of his flannel and his chest. “You’re not cryin’ ‘cause you’re ashamed of us, are you?”

You blink through the tail end of your tears, confused. “What? No!”

Fox attempts a smile as he ducks his head down to be more on your level. “So, what’s the problem?”

Wait, what? You look to Appo first. He’s the commander, whatever he says goes. Only he’s not as angry as you were expecting. He’s not angry at all, he almost looks relieved. And the others are the same, each of them still in the midst of processing your admission in their own ways, but it’s relief across the board.

“I don’t“ – Fox takes your chin in his hand and guides you back to him – “understand.”

He grins. “Lemme show you.”

It only takes one look that strays from the heat of his eyes to the bow of his lips for him to kiss you. The first seconds are hazy as most, if not all, of his brothers shout his name, and you try to find your bearings in the sea that is his touch. His nose presses into your cheek, then his fingers at the pressure point along the back of your neck, gently prompting you to lean back and open up for him, and you do. And the haze clears into a flurry of stars and shimmering ecstasy.

His tongue is velvet on your lips, a startling contrast to the two-day scruff rubbing against your chin, and his body is solid as it presses into yours. He’s everything, everywhere. He tastes like only he could as he slips into your mouth and swallows your shuddering gasps, and you cling to his shoulders for fear of losing yourself in your desire.

Is this what you’ve been missing out on? For two years? If you had known that confessing your love would earn you the single best kiss of your entire life, you would have gotten on your knees and poured your heart out ages ago.

He’s still grinning when he finally retrieves himself from you, with his shining skin and glittering eyes and the heartbeat pulsing at his throat. “Fuckin’ knew you’d taste good.”

You’re honestly too stunned to speak.

Appo, alternatively, is distinctly less impressed with his antics than you are. “For fuck’s sake, Fox, this isn’t gonna work if you do shit like that.”

With your chin still cupped in his hand, Fox turns to scowl at him. Vaughn’s pressed his fingers into his temples as if he’s rubbing away a headache. Tai, as far as you can tell, appears to be frozen in time and fixated on your mouth, which does nothing for the buzz of flutter-bys in your gut other than make it 10 times worse.

“Vod.” Sterling’s smiling, but it’s more exasperated than anything. “You need a kriffin’ muzzle.”

“I, uh… I still don’t, don’t understand.” You’ve slumped out of Fox’s reach and into the deepest corner of your chair (the only option now that your spine has elected to give up its functioning while you recover from The Kiss). With a hand braced against your forehead and your heart about to beat out of your chest, you spare the nearest clone a look. “I thought I fucked up.”

Sterling nods in agreement, much to your horror. “It wasn’t ideal, but what’s done is done.” He considers the others, but doesn’t wait long for their approval to say whatever else it is that’s on his mind. Perhaps you’re simply the last to know. “We like you. All of us do, but we made a deal a long time ago not to do anythin’ about it. Wouldn’t be right.”

Trembling fingers drift until they press into the tingling ghost of Fox’s lips on yours, something that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Knowing that you feel the same changes things,” Vaughn sighs.

Is this really happening? Are you dreaming? Dead? Insane? “So, what are you saying?” The question is directed at all of them, but you levy most of your attention on Appo. The final call, you know, will be his and his alone.

He settles his elbows atop his knees, hands clasped together and perched beneath his chin as his eyes lance right through you. “Depends on what you want. We’re open to trying something, but only if that’s what you want.”

Trying something? Does he mean…? Your heart leaps into your throat and you nearly choke on it. “You mean, with all of you? Like, share?”

Tai’s the first one to laugh, and Maker, if it isn’t music to your ears. He’s been so quiet today, even more so once you came home, but now he’s smiling so hard that his cheeks are dimpling. You love him. You love all of them, simple as that.

“I won’t lie to you,” Appo continues, “it won’t be easy. You know what we’re like.”

Vaughn cackles and whacks Fox in the chest. “Yeah, we’ll have to keep you on a leash, mate.”

“Eat your own ass,” he retorts.

“Ne’johaa,” their commander snaps, and they quickly fall back in line. “We’ll have to communicate, share our time and our space. If anyone has problems, we have to voice them. I’m not letting this get volatile, am I understood?”

Vaughn, Sterling, Tai, and Fox mumble their agreement in a collective and less than chipper “yes sir” that pulls your first genuine smile of the day.

Appo quirks a brow at you. “And no favorites.”

Heat flashes across your chest – as if! “I’d never do that. And I’m kind of insulted that you think I would.”

“I don’t. But those are our terms – you split your time among us, don’t play favorites, tell us when something’s wrong. That’s all. And we’ll give you the same.”

You want to say yes. Hell, you already know you will, it’s just a matter of time, but there’s still several questions burning in the back of your mind that need answering, loathe though you are to admit it. You resettle yourself so you’re sitting upright.

“Is this like a serious relationship thing? Is it casual? I’d understand either way, but I don’t really know if I can do casual.” Eye contact becomes a bit difficult here as you drift toward the heart of your vulnerability. “The way I feel about you guys is about as far from that as you can get.”

“You really think any of us’d be able to be casual with you?” It’s Vaughn who posits this, mystified at the apparent stupidity of your question. “That’s why we decided none of us could make a move in the first place. You’re not casual to us.”

You’ve never wanted to devour someone more in your entire life. It’s not a purely physical need, but something ancient and wild from deep in your soul that yearns to make yourself one with him for saying exactly the words you needed to hear, for proving in this instance that your shared feelings are beyond the temporary. Still, it’s much too soon for anything of that magnitude. The topic’s just barely been broached, and there are still rules to determine, like –

“What about other stuff? Bedroom stuff?” And it takes all your effort not to burst into flames on the spot.

You half expect a litany of laughter at your expense because these are men, after all, and one of them is Fox. It wouldn’t surprise you in the least if they were chomping at the bit for a chance to be physical already. Yet that seems to be the exact opposite of the truth.

“We’ll follow your lead. If you need something from us, we won’t give it unless we have your consent.”

Quite honestly, it’s good you’re already sitting, or your legs may have given out on you. Never in your life have you heard such a direct declaration of respect for your consent, or for your own pleasure. Appo says it so succinctly and in so few words, but the meaning behind it is endless. Your needs will be put first, your comfort and your safety elevated above each of theirs, and you’ll be calling the shots in this regard.

Where minutes ago you had been apprehensive about the concept of physical intimacy with five men in their sexual prime, now you’re doing everything you can to keep from climbing over the furniture and kissing each of them senseless. By putting you in a place of honor in this potential relationship, these men have just guaranteed your undying loyalty, and have finally captured whatever part of your heart there was that had yet to fall in love.

“You’re serious, then? I’m not dreaming, or something?”

“D’you wanna be?” asks Sterling.

“No. And if I am, I hope I never wake up.”

Fox chortles and claps his hand on your thigh as if you’ve just said the funniest thing in the galaxy. “That’s our mesh’la!”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He’s touching you. It was different before when everything was platonic and flirty and, yes, casual, but now it means something. Now there’s no draping the intention of his touch behind friendship and niceties. If Fox is touching you, it’s because he wants to and because he can, because you’ve said yes to pursuing a greater something with him. This means that, unlike the past two years, when his hand shoots electric attraction straight up your spinal cord, you’re not forced to hide the fact that it makes your entire brain short out.

“Oh,” you say, as if it’s the only word you know. In this instance, it probably is.

No matter how big or small your body is, it will always be tiny compared to Fox. Being the strongest, broadest, and most active of his brothers has led to the natural consequence of his entire existence being mindbogglingly large. His hand can cover at least half your thigh, if not more, and it’s rocketing your consciousness into another realm where clothes don’t exist and the only thing that matters is if he’s touching you or not.

“You good, babe?”

Alarm bells start chiming in your ears. He’s calling you ‘babe’ now? It’s unlikely you will survive the experience. Unfortunate, really, but a wonderful way to go.

“Lay off the charm, Zero, you already had your shot,” says one of the boys, potentially Vaughn. You’re still too entranced by the shape of Fox’s hand as it squeezes your leg to tell.

“Kriff, don’t call me that. That’s shiny shit.”

“Then stop workin’ your charm like a shiny, mate.”

“Can’t be that bad if she’s already flustered.”

The banter quickly devolves into bickering which, while annoying, pulls Fox’s focus onto something else and finally gives you the opportunity to think straight for a minute. Sterling eventually joins the conversation.

This is real; really, really, real. You woke up this morning thinking that you’d lost the five most important people in your life. They’re each your taonga, in a way. Things wouldn’t be the same without any of them, even when they’re like this, acting more like younglings than the seasoned veterans they truly are. It would have broken you to watch them walk out and know that it had been your own fault. It would have left you more alone than you’ve ever been in your life, and that fear has been haunting you all day only to prove itself false by the end.

The sudden sense of knowing tells you that you’re being watched, so you follow its trail until it leads you to Tai. There it is, that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile that’s enraptured your heart, the smile that warms your soul on the bleakest of days. Not even his brothers smile quite the same.

You look then to the eldest of the batch, their commander, and find yourself melting all over again. His smile is in his eyes, but he plays with the idea of it, lets his lips twitch into some almost-shape for a moment or two before ducking his head and sighing. It’s a good sigh, you think, content and unguarded.

Through, rather than over, the din of Fox, Vaughn, and Sterling’s argument, you find yourself asking of Appo, “You really mean it?”

His attention never wavers. “Yes.”

“You’re sure?” The background noise begins to die down now, so you strengthen the timbre of your voice a bit. “You don’t have to do this, y’know. I don’t want any of you to feel obligated.”

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that.”

“Promise?”

Fox’s hand finds your thigh again, accompanied with the blazing heat of his body as he moves into your space again. “Need someone to prove it t’you, huh?” Fuck, he’s so sexy when he looks at you like that.

“You’ve already had your turn,” says Appo, as if he were remarking on a round of sabacc or a bet at the pod races, and not you. That shouldn’t make you squirm as much as it does. “It’s a team effort.” Oddly enough, that’s somehow even hotter.

“That’s fine by me. I don’t mind watchin’.”

Kriffing sith’s hells and stars above, this man is going to kill you.

“Fuck, Fox,” you gasp with a hand pressed hard into your chest. No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to get enough air into your lungs because his suggestion’s knocked it all out of you. “You can’t just say that and, and expect me to be fucking normal about it.”

That smug grin of his does little more than make your current state of breathlessness even worse. He rests some of his weight on your leg where his hand still sits, and it triggers a violent shiver that starts between your thighs and cracks all the way into your brain. Fuck, you’re about 3 milliseconds away from jumping his bones if he doesn’t kriffing stop looking at you like that!

Thankfully, though, Appo is the one to come to your rescue, ever the voice of reason. He shuts Fox down with a couple of short Mando’a commands, which results in your leg becoming yours again. A tragedy in two parts. But the suggestion to resume dinner and attempt a bit of normalcy is a welcome one.

The rest of the night passes with no small amount of awkwardness, but it’s always countered with a tender smile, a fleeting touch, a shake or a nod of your head to express your comfort level. Sterling kisses your hand during the exchanging of cutlery. Vaughn makes a shaky attempt at putting his arm about your waist when you’re in the kitchen. Appo ends up having to chase Fox off when you’re not looking, and you can’t tell if he’s tickled by it or genuinely pissed off, but he never strays far from you and that, despite his apparent reservation to actually touch you so far, means as much to you as a kiss ever could.

Tai is the one you’re worried about, though, because he’s been so alarmingly reserved today. You hate to think it’s because of you, because you said yes, but what if it is? Dwelling on what might be running through his head won’t get you anywhere and you know that, yet it’s impossible not to wonder. Is he upset? Jealous? Could it be that he was never interested in you the way his brothers are, and he’s resigned himself to his inclusion? That that smile you treasure was nothing more than an attempt to placate you amidst his own discomfort.

“You okay?”

It’s Sterling. You’d been so withdrawn into your own psyche that you had failed to notice his approach.

You nod rather quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You done?”

He eyes his empty plate, then you, then frowns. “You seem… off,” he notes as he bypasses your open and waiting hand to place his dishes in the sink himself. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing-“

His fingers are cool as they wrap around yours. Sterling halts the instant he moves, searching your face for any sign of discomfort, but you have nothing to give. Intimacy is new with him, with all of them, and you welcome it eagerly.

“We’re in this together now, cyar’ika. Whatever it is, you can share it. I want to hear.”

You’re too tightly wound to politely pass on his offer. “Are you sure that all of you want this? Because I don’t want anyone feeling like they have to join in out of necessity. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

Sterling hums thoughtfully for a moment or two, his eyes flickering between yours as he mulls the question over. “Are you asking for us, or for yourself?”

“I want this,” you answer quickly. “I really want this. I’m just worried that some of you don’t.”

“Who?”

A quick glance past Sterling’s shoulder reveals Tai engaged in conversation with the others. He seems a touch more animated with them than he has all day, but he’s still off. Something’s bothering him, and that bothers you.

“Is Tai angry with me?”

You think at first that Sterling will refuse to answer. He turns so his lower back is pressed into the lip of the counter, tucked into the space between you and the sink. His arm is offered to you then, hovering above the spot where his thigh brushes yours and placed so perfectly that you need only lower your own arm to reach his hand. It’s warm, soft, a comfort you could easily find yourself lost in.

“We all have our demons,” he finally responds. “I think his are givin’ him a good kick in the shebs tonight. It’s not you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Darling, if there’s one thing we all agree on, it’s you. Okay?”

You nod. “Okay.” While it’s not the reassurance you would have wanted and prompts you to fret over Tai in an entirely new way, you get the feeling that it’s a subject that needs brokering another time. Instead, you allow yourself to be drawn into Sterling’s orbit, resting your cheek on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m glad.”

A kiss is pressed to your temple, like the one he bestowed when he first came home. “So am I.”

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#tai x reader #commander appo x reader #captain vaughn x reader #sergeant fox x reader #clone trooper sterling x reader #clone trooper tai #clone trooper sterling #captain vaughn #sergeant fox #ct-0000 #commander appo #x reader #star wars #tcw #clone trooper x reader #whew! this one wasn't exactly hard to write but i did need to be extra intentional #i think i did pretty good! i hope you all enjoy [insert heart emojis here]#labyrinth of my mind

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