Sweet And 🔥

Sweet and 🔥

Echo x Fem!Reader

Summary

When you accidentally overhear Hunter confronting Echo with his feelings for you, you take your chance and make the first step.

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 4116

Warnings: No warnings! Just enjoy sensual juicy Echo fluff! 🍓♥️

AO3

That karking flap broke.

You sit in a maintenance shaft inside the Marauder and press one part of the flap against the rogue one, rolling your eyes theatrically even though no one can see you, waiting for the spaceworthy superglue to finally do its job.

You can live with doing repairs, letting your hands do the magic but you absolutely hate having to be still, waiting five karking minutes for the glue to finally dry. Your restless mind tells your body to flounder but you try to keep it under control - you don't want to ruin the end result. Then you'd have to do it all over again. Another five minutes of absolute boredom.

“...and we should get two or three regulators as spare parts, the current ones seem to be at the end of their lifespan and become increasingly unreliable." Echo and Hunter enter the Marauder and approach the back where you are stuck in the maintenance shaft with a small mesh separating you from the corridor with the two men.

You don't want to eavesdrop and prepare yourself for the classic “ahem" to show them you're here when Hunter starts talking.

“Enough about the spare parts...let's talk about the mechanic."

O-o...did you do something wrong? Or right? Is it still a good idea to pretend to clear your throat?

“What about her?" Echo asks. He looks a bit annoyed. Maybe you did do something wrong.

The idea that Echo would be upset with you hurts - ever since the crew of the Marauder commissioned your boss's shop to do the repairs you had your eyes on him but never got anything in return. He was stiff, distant, uptight and all about work and his constantly gloomy, slightly grumpy mood didn't help establish a communication either. You had almost made your peace with the idea that for some reason he just didn’t like you. Almost…you couldn’t help yourself and still kept on trying to get close to him, start some smalltalk or catch his eye.

Maybe Hunter noticed that you tried to get his attention and wanted to check with Echo if it bothered him or affected your work...and get someone else if it did. And you genuinely thought you chose a subtle approach to show Echo you're interested. Obviously you didn't. It apparently upset Echo and got Hunter's attention. You weren’t subtle - just very unprofessional.

The embarrassment you feel is overwhelming. You got carried away when all you had to do was repair a spaceship while it made landfall. Maybe they'll even tell your boss about it. You feel so sheepish...the very idea that your boss will learn about it and confront you with your misbehavior makes you want to curl up and die.

“I've seen the way you look at her" Hunter answers and raises an eyebrow...as far as you can see through the mesh.

You stare at the scene with eyes wide open. Is this going in a different direction than you thought?

Echo purses his lips.

“And what way would that be?"

Hunter gives him a warm smile and touches his shoulder.

“Echo…just stop pretending. I know you have feelings for her."

Echo clenches his jaw and is visibly upset with Hunter's approach - he surely doesn‘t want him to address this topic so openly. He takes a step back to get away from his touch and is about to say something but Hunter is faster.

“Don't try to deny it. Enhanced senses, remember?”

Echo's cheeks are flushed red now. He furrows his brows and groans.

"Doesn't matter. I have different priorities."

Hunter raises an eyebrow at him again.

“We both know that's not the real reason. Why don't you give it a shot? I think she really likes you."

Echo angrily stares at Hunter for an awfully long time. It is pretty obvious that he feels that his sergeant overstepped.

“It's really none of your business“ he grunts. “Now if you don't have any more questions about the spare parts I ask to be dismissed."

Hunter scoffs. Since they've been on the run he's never been so formal that he would dismiss one of his crew. You'd be surprised if he'd played that game before Order 66 at all. This team didn't seem to follow the strict military rules anyway – probably with the exception of Echo.

Hunter gives Echo a nod and shortly looks in the direction of the mesh that's hiding you and the bits of the maintenance flap you glued together. Adrenaline flushes you and you hold your breath. Did he see you?

But then he quickly turns around and leaves the Marauder.

A few days later you find yourself in the Marauder alone with Echo, doing repairs while the others explore the planet. Of course the conversation between Hunter and Echo never left your mind and you don’t know how to feel about being alone with him.

Echo...he had feelings for you... something you wished so much but didn't dare to hope for. But ever since that moment in the maintenance shaft you felt even more flustered in his presence. Knowing about his feelings could have made you feel confident, but you are just nervous when he's in the room – and even more now, that you're alone. After all he clearly rejected the idea of taking it further, he had no intention of acting on his feelings. 'We both know that's not the real reason' Hunter said to Echo.

Whatever the reason is - maybe he just needed a little push?

You both work in the Marauder, silently, separately on different stations. Echo keeps the conversation on a professional level and keeps his distance. You sometimes peek over to him, try to catch his eye. Sometimes he looks back at you very shortly, but immediately looks away when your eyes meet. The whole morning is the very definition of awkward.

A quiet beeping informs you that it's time for the lunch break. In a way you've been looking forward to it, hoping it will give you the chance to talk to Echo, maybe exchange as smile or so. But now that it's time you're afraid it will be an embarrassing disaster of uncomfortable silence.

You go over to the tactical stations in the back of the Marauder - two identical working spaces on opposite sides of the fuselage. Both of you lean against the consoles and face each other. Echo gives you a forced smile and a formal nod, then he bites into the GAR standard ration, a brown cylindrical and very dry bar that tastes like cardboard. A loveless piece of food for clone troopers that contains all vitamins, proteins and other nutrients a hard-working soldier needs, carefully balanced to match the average calories a genetically standardized man requires when he performs his standard tasks in a standard environment. Not one bit about this bar is about taste, indulgence, enjoyment. It was made for assets that are supposed to spend the shortest time possible eating to be as productive as they can be.

The fact that it was Hunter who insisted on providing you with lunch today - and you’re sure it’s definitely not a bar like that - tells you that no one in this team has to eat those tasteless abominations of food anymore. Still that's what Echo has for lunch. And you get it. It's all he knows, all he's ever known and whatever kinds of food he got to know on his missions he still keeps on coming back to the standard bars. It is part of his routine, something that grounds him, something familiar.

You nod back and open your lunchbox. You are well aware that his formal behavior is just his way to deal with the awkwardness of the situation. Now that you know he has feelings for you it's easier to look behind his distant facade. He is just afraid of this moment as you are, being alone with each other, being expected to come up with some clever topics for small talk or having to face uncomfortable silence instead, with the sounds of your chewing and swallowing filling the room.

You open your lunch box, see the mouthwatering wholemeal sandwich with fresh salad and cheese Hunter got you - and laugh in surprise when you see the treat he put in the compartment for dessert.

Strawberries.

Of all the food you love, this is what you love most.

You never thought he'd get you strawberries!

And of course Hunter picked the perfect strawberries - you expected nothing less. His enhanced senses surely helped and you have no doubt that they will taste as good as they look - deep red, ripe and juicy, their sweet scent filling the air, watering your mouth. Perfect, just perfect!

A smile spreads all over your face. This is such a lovely gesture from the sergeant. A few days ago you mentioned that you grew them in your garden as a child, how much you always looked forward to the time of the year when they got ripe, how much you’d love to eat them again.

But you never thought he'd surprise you with strawberries for your lunchbreak! You didn't even know it was possible to get them on this planet.

Your smile keeps on growing. One could say it’s just food but these are strawberries! They are never ’just fruit’. A little treat during rough times. And knowing that it is a kind gesture from Hunter makes them even better.

You look over to Echo who already takes the second bite of the tasteless bar and tries to look like someone who doesn't feel uncomfortable in your presence but in such a peculiar way that it is hard to miss how he really feels about the situation.

You look down at the strawberries. Their seductive scent must have reached him and his unsavory GAR ration by now. You look up to him and finally break the silence.

"Have you ever tried strawberries?“ you ask and hold one of the thick red fruit up.

Echo looks over, surprised about your attempt to start a conversation.

“Erm... no" he answers.

"Would you like to try one?“ you ask tentatively and hope he will take the bait.

"Sure, why not" Echo answers and tries to make it sound as casually as he can.

He doesn't know what he just started…at least not yet.

But soon he will.

You get up and with a pounding heart you slowly move the hand with the strawberry in his direction. He reaches for it but you ignore that. You have no intention of giving it to him...at least not this way. You lift your hand up to his face and place the strawberry in front of his mouth, tip forward.

Echo's eyes widen and you see panic in them. He swallows hard and you can feel his breath flowing over your fingers, his mouth still closed, his mind racing. This is not what he signed up for.

You keep your eyes on his even though he doesn't dare to look back into yours. Your pounding heart is the only proof that time isn’t standing still right now.

Echo blinks a few times, irritated, his body frozen. The tension is killing you. And him. You can see his mind working. He said he wanted to try one so he can't tell you he made up his mind just like that. It would be rude.

"The tip is the best part of it” you rasp to break the unbearable silence - and he finally opens his mouth. You feel his warm breath on your skin before he slowly bites off the tip.

You leave your eyes on his and slowly retreat the hand with the remaining half of the strawberry to stick it in your own mouth and eat it. He's still not returning your look while he chews slowly and finally swallows. He shows no reaction to its taste - his mind is probably somewhere else, dealing with your move, trying to process, trying to not give his feelings away, trying to get in control of the situation again.

"You want another one?“ you ask him.

Echo finally looks at you. The panic hasn't left his eyes. He doesn't answer. You see his chest heave quickly under his armor. Your little assault was probably a bit too much for him but you don't see a ‘no’ in his eyes either so you take another strawberry and offer it to him.

His lips are still parted, his breath warm against your fingers and this time it takes only a few breaths before he takes a bite. You eat the other half again and don't bother asking, you just take another strawberry and offer it to him.

He still takes his time before his lips enclose the tip of the fruit but he is not as hesitant as before. You give him a rushed and nervous smile and he gives you one back. Just for half a second, just really quickly, but a smile nonetheless, an unmistakable sign of his consent. Finally...

When you give him the next strawberry you allow your eyes to wander down to his delicious lips, slightly wet and juicy from the treats you’ve been feeding him. Irresistible. You watch their every move when he takes the next bite, watch them gently enclose the tip of the strawberry and suck lightly when he finally bites it off. You breath through your mouth, infatuated by the sight, flustered by the sensuality of his lips, captivated by a little drop of juice running down the corner of his mouth.

Before you can think about it your hand is already at his cheek. You run your thumb over his chin, gently wipe away the juice. You lock eyes - this time he doesn't look away - and you slowly retreat your hand to suckle the juice off of your thumb before you eat your half of the strawberry.

Even though your eyes are on his you see him swallow hard.

You take another strawberry and offer it to him. Everything's in slow motion now. Your hand, his lips, his breath flowing over your fingers...

Your eyes are still locked.

You can see that he’s nervous but so are you. Echo accepts your gift another time and you eat the rest.

You reach for the next strawberry when you realize that Echo already has one in his hand - looks like he finally put his unsavory bar down and wants to return the favor. He’s moving it slowly towards your mouth, his eyes firmly on yours. His hand is shaking - you have no idea how in the universe you managed to keep yours steady all the time. You slowly lift your hand and hold his, stabilize it in front of your lips. His ashen skin feels cold, almost as if it had been waiting for your warm touch. You both move the tip of the strawberry closer.

Your mouth is slightly open. This time it is you who lets him feel your breath on his skin. You take your time before you put your lips around the tip, even dare to stick out your tongue a bit to lick over the underside of the strawberry before you slowly take what's yours.

Echo knows what's supposed to come next - the other half is his. Your hand is still on his, gently guides it towards his mouth. But when he gets there you stop him.

He doesn't understand, you can see it in his eyes...you hold your position for a few breaths and then start moving - very slowly, very carefully. You don't want him to get too eager and eat it. Not yet. After all there is a reason why you bit off only a small part of the strawberry. The fruit is juicy and still very defined where you bit it off... it's perfect, it’s just the way you need it to be.

You slowly guide his hand closer to his mouth and run the juicy part of the remaining strawberry over his lips. First the lower lip, left to right, then the upper lip, his breath fast and hot on your fingers all the time. When both his lips are glistening with juice you finally let him eat the rest.

Your eyes are now firmly locked, tied together by an invisible force. Your hand searches for the next strawberry and finally finds it. You feed him the tip again and are just about to put the other half in your mouth when he softly runs his cold fingers over yours, still trembling lightly, but a lot less than before. And he guides your hand to run the remaining strawberry over your lips now.

It took you until this moment to notice that he bit off a lot less than before too - he is a fast learner.

You breath through your mouth, excited, aroused, drawn to this man, let him feel your hot breath on his cold skin, let him hear every breath you draw, let him hear the shuddering, let him see how close you are to losing your composure while he wets your lips with the sweet strawberry juice. The tension is almost unbearable…how you wish he'd let go of the strawberry and brush his lips over yours...

... but he's not there yet. He feeds you the remaining half and waits for your next move when he takes another strawberry and offers it to you.

Your patience has left for a hunger that can no longer be controlled. You suck the tip of the strawberry hard and suggestively, leaving no questions open, before you bite off the tip with so much passion that your desire is on full display. Then you take his hand with the remaining part, move it close to his mouth, a fierce, determined look in your eyes - and run it over his lips before you run it over the corner of his mouth and wet the skin on his cheek. You don't bother feeding him the rest and satisfy your own hunger by finally moving forward, your lips close to him, finally kissing the juice off of his cheeks and the corner of his mouth before you move on to his lips, gently lick the juice off, your hot breath mixing with his until you finally kiss, softly, sensually, hungrily tasting each other, your strawberry lips, your strawberry tongues, your strawberry saliva.

Echo pulls you closer and you lean your body against his, feel his armor, hard plastoid keeping a physical distance but also intriguing, reminding you of his hard physically demanding work. You reach for the blacks under his chest plate and grab them tightly, pull him closer too, let him feel your grip on his skin while you indulge more and more in each other's taste.

Your free hand still holds the rest of the strawberry and you move it up, run it over the sensitive spot at his cheek right under the place where his ear is covered by the head piece and you move it slowly down towards his neck, move it across his throat and further down from there, then break the kiss and follow the juicy trail with your lips. Echo moans softly and you feel the vibrations under your kisses. He tastes so good…it’s not just the strawberry, not even primarily the sweet fruit, it's him, his unique taste, manly and slightly salty, making the strawberry juice a faint refinement of an already perfect taste.

Echo takes the strawberry remains from you and runs them over your skin, starting under your ear, going on over your sensitive neck and moving closer to your neckline. You slowly pull the zipper of your jumpsuit down, brush the fabric over your shoulder to expose your skin and he gasps quietly and continues his trail on your collar bone. Then he gently kisses the juice off, adds little licks while he's on his way, flickers his tongue over your skin in such a skillful way it robs you of your senses when you realize the promise that lies within. You gasp quietly, feel his hot breath on your skin, hear his little moans, let out little gasps of pleasure and forget the world around you when he...

"Hey Echo, look what we got at the..." Omega's cheerful voice cuts through the air and you quickly let go of each other and stare into her curious face. Wrecker comes through the door, relaxed and in a good mood until he sees your surprised faces, your exposed shoulder, the reddish strawberry juice on your skin and both your red cheeks. He quickly covers Omega's eyes from behind but she loudly complains and squirms her way out of his grip. She is just about to say something when Hunter rushes in, quite obviously to stop them but already aware that he's too late. He could probably sense that the two of you were making out when he was still outside...

Your eyes shortly meet Hunter's and suddenly you realize...

... he must have known that you were in the maintenance bay when he asked Echo about his feelings for you. He couldn't have missed that, not with his enhanced senses. And it was not like this was an ongoing conversation when they entered the corridor.

He started that conversation.

He chose this topic.

He brought it up.

On purpose.

Knowing that you'd be there to listen to him.

Knowing that the chances that you'd make a first move would be a lot higher than Echo's.

And then the strawberries...the strawberries he found for you the very day when you and Echo would be alone on the Marauder. Which was probably something he scheduled on purpose too.

He had planned all this.

You are not sure if you should feel played or if you should be grateful because he gave you the chance to get closer to the man whose touch you craved so much. You would never have taken the chance if you hadn't learned that he has feelings for you.

Hunter looks over to Wrecker and Omega while Tech enters the Marauder.

"You know what? Why don't we explore the city a little more and go to the holo cinema tonight? No need to hang around at the ship, we have that everyday" the sergeant asks.

Wrecker is over the moon and pushes Hunter‘s shoulder a little too enthusiastically.

“Awesome!"

He looks over to Omega who peeks in Hunter's direction and smirks.

“What a shame that these two can't join us. I take it they have to continue with the repairs until late at night?" she says and winks.

Hunter blushes. He wasn't prepared for Omega to understand what he‘s up to. You look over to Echo - his cheeks are flushed red. He just begins to realize that Hunter played Cupid.

Tech adjusts his googles.

“In this case I will stay here too and support the remaining repairs. It is imperative that...”

“Nooooo Tech!” Wrecker interrupts him with his loud voice. “I don't think that's necessary!”

Tech gives him an irritated look – refusing his offer to support repairs is probably one of the most offensive things he knows in his world. Omega quickly picks up on his face and steps in.

“Yeah...you know there's only limited space where they have to work and you'd be in each others' way...”

“Besides...” Hunter adds and wraps his arm around Tech “I chose the movie specifically for you. It's called 'A beautiful mind'. You're gonna love it. It's about a mathematician who...” Hunter gently guides Tech outside and gives the two of you one last look with a grin.

Wrecker rubs his neck before he starts to talk loudly.

“Well...erm...you...you just go on with the repairs...and stuff...you know...erm...”

Omega giggles takes his hand and pulls him towards the door.

“Let's see if we can get Mantell mix on this planet. No movie without junk food!”

Wrecker gratefully accepts the pull-out and Omega gives you a last wink before they leave the two of you alone.

Echo and you look at each other and laugh nervously. And now that everyone has left you realize that someone - probably Hunter - left you something at the Marauder‘s door. It’s probably what Omega wanted to show Echo when she ran in on you.

It‘s a basket with a huge variety of fruit.

Very juicy ones.

Echo didn’t miss them either. He rubs his neck and gives you an apologetic look.

“Well that’s embarrassing…“

You give him a nervous smile.

“It is…“

But then you summon up all your courage and firmly look into his eyes.

“I don’t mind at all. Do you?“

Writer’s Notes:

This fic was inspired by two wonderful fics about Echo and strawberries: Lush Meadows by @the-rain-on-kamino and Strawberries by @arcsimper5.

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The Stardust Conspiracy (Part 1)

Rated: G | Words: 1,656 | Summary: The Batch gets a pet…chaos ensues.

Author’s Note: special thanks to @just-here-with-my-thoughts for their contribution to the chaos that will transpire…😂

The market is crowded and loud. Omega's eyes are wide and constantly moving, a small smile teasing the edges of her lips. She has attached herself to both Hunter and Wrecker, her hands tucked snugly in theirs. It links them in an awkward chain; however, Hunter would rather that than Omega getting lost or snatched up. And maybe he doesn’t mind the feel of her tiny fingers locked around his, an unspoken familiarity that has grown in the months since they’ve taken her in.

“There’s so much to look at!” Omega declares, skipping between her brothers without a care in the world.

Hunter smiles. “Definitely more to offer than Ord Mantell.”

“That’s not hard to do,” Echo comments from behind them, voice muffled behind the mask of his droid disguise.

“We should get food,” Wrecker declares. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Hunter says, shaking his head. They’d just had their rations not even a standard hour before.

“I’m hungry too,” Omega says, tugging on Hunter’s hand.

“See! Great minds think alike!” Wrecker laughs, giving Omega’s arm an enthusiastic swing, making her giggle.

Hunter glances back at Echo, but the cyborg just heaves one shoulder in a shrug. “We’ll see what we can find,” Hunter concedes, earning a cheer from Wrecker and Omega.

The morning had started out on a sour note, the four of them having been banished from the Marauder by Tech for the remainder of the day while he made repairs “by himself.” Really, Wrecker and Echo were to blame, while Hunter and Omega were guilty by simple association. Wrecker had, somehow, managed to drop Gonky on Tech’s favorite data pad, cracking the screen even through the screen protector. Echo then followed up by inadvertently deleting a file from the navigation system’s hard drive that he thought was clutter—but was actually a collection of mundane information that Tech had wanted to keep. Verbal apologies were not enough to smooth over the offenses, and the four clones were asked to leave.

Omega, never one to linger on hard feelings, brightened the mood almost immediately, pressing into the excitement of a new place to explore. She was especially delighted with the fact that they were in no hurry to return to the ship, nor did they have any specific task to accomplish, leaving them free to wander to her childish heart’s content.

Their search for food is interrupted when they walk past a specific shop window. Omega’s attention is immediately captured by the sight of tooka kittens peering out at her, mouths moving in soundless mews through the glass pane. “What is this place?” she asks.

“It’s a pet store,” Echo replies.

Omega turns wide eyes on their oldest brother. “Pet store? What’s a pet?”

Hunter starts to step away. “Nothing we need,” he says firmly. “C’mon.”

Omega resists, returning her gaze to the tookas. “Can we go inside and just look? Please!”

“Yeah, Hunter, just for a few minutes,” Wrecker says. “I’ve never gotten to see a tooka kitten before. Maybe we can hold one!”

Omega gasps. “We could hold one?”

Two sets of eyes turn on Hunter with a level of pleading the sergeant isn’t ready to contend with. He sighs. “Fine. We can go inside for a few minutes.”

A small bell rings cheerfully when they push open the door, and an elderly woman eyes them from behind the counter. “Welcome,” she says, “is there anything specific I can help you find today?”

“We’re just looking,” Hunter says.

“Can we hold a tooka kitten?” Omega pipes up.

“Of course, you can, little one,” the woman croons. “You can hold any one you’d like.”

Omega and Wrecker go to the window, looking down into the glass pen where the tooka kittens have toddled over on wobbly, baby legs, their beady eyes blinking up under huge ears. Omega carefully lifts out a brown and black striped kitten then holds it close to her chest, stroking it between its ears.

“It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my whole life,” she whispers, “and it’s so tiny! Look at its little paws, Hunter! It’s so cute!”

Hunter’s heart melts a little.

Wrecker hesitates, but after looking at the woman and receiving a nod, he also picks up a kitten, the little creature practically disappearing in his cupped hand. “Imagine if Lula were this small,” Wrecker rumbles, his attempt at a whisper.

“She’d be so cute!” Omega cries quietly.

“Lula isn’t real,” Echo feels the need to clarify to the storekeeper. “It’s a toy.”

The woman gives Echo a funny look, and Hunter realizes it’s because of his droid disguise.

The woman turns her attention to Hunter. “The kittens are just old enough to leave their mother this week. We have everything you’d need to adopt one today.”

“Oh, no,” Hunter assures her a little too quickly, “We don’t want a kitten. We are just looking.”

The woman raises an eyebrow and pointedly glances at Omega. “Pets are very good for children. Teaches responsibility”

Omega is snuggling the tooka up to her face, her nose pressed into its round, fuzzy body. “It’s making a funny sound,” Omega says.

“It’s purring,” the woman explains, “that means it likes you.”

“It does? Awww! Can you hear it purring, Hunter?” Omega giggles when the kitten lets out a tiny, rasping mew.

“This one’s purring too!” Wrecker says, gruff soldier voice sounding absolutely delighted.

Hunter tries to ignore the sticky sweet emotion that stirs somewhere deep in the muscle thumping in his chest. They cannot get a tooka. Don’t even entertain the idea! “Alright,” he says, stamping down the joy daring to bloom in the light of his siblings’ utter happiness, “a few minutes is up. Let’s go.”

“Hunter, wait! There are more animals, and I want to see them all!” Omega cries, turning on him with those galaxy filled eyes. It doesn’t help that she has the tooka kitten nuzzled under her chin, peering up at him, daring him to break a little girl’s heart.

Hunter looks at Echo for backup, but the man looks about as helpful as Gonky at the moment. He is staring down at Omega, and even with the mask hiding his expression, it looks like he’s about to let Omega adopt the whole litter of tookas on the spot.

Maker, help me.

“Alright, well, you better start looking. We’re gonna have to head out soon,” Hunter says in his best command voice. Unfortunately, Omega and Wrecker are practically immune to it. They gently put down their tooka kittens, and begin meandering around the store, looking into glass cages housing all sorts of creatures from over the galaxy.

“What are these called?” Omega asks, leaning down to look into a cage containing what look to be tiny puffs of fur, smaller than the palm of her hand.

“Those are called cricetos,” the woman says, “They make wonderful first pets. Would you like to hold one?”

“Yes, please!” Omega chirps.

The woman reaches in and plucks a golden ball of fluff from the cage. She sets it in Omega’s hand. The creature is tiny, and stares up at Omega with large, round eyes. “I can’t even feel it in my hand, it’s so light,” Omega breathes.

“Would you like to give it a treat?” the woman asks.

Omega nods eagerly, and the woman gives her a small handful of seeds. Omega holds out a single seed to the criceto, and the animal reaches out and snatches the seed in its minuscule fingers. After an experimental sniff, the criceto licks the seed once before shoving the whole thing in its mouth, tucking it in its cheek. Omega offers it another and another and another, each seed carefully stowed away.

“That,” Echo says, “is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

And that’s the moment Hunter knows they’re doomed.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The storekeeper is more than accommodating in providing the squad with everything they need to take care of a rodent aboard a spacecraft, even supplying discounts when Hunter tries to make the excuse that they really don’t have the credits to make such a purchase right now. Echo and Wrecker are absolutely no help, and the look on Omega’s face seals the deal. Tech is going to kill me in my sleep.

Omega is practically beside herself with excitement, words tumbling out of her in an endless stream as she plots, strategizes, and anticipates what having a pet will mean for their lives now. “Do you think Tech is going to love Stardust as much as we do?” Omega asks, holding up the small crate to peek at the rodent stashed inside.

Hunter suppresses a sigh. “Maybe we should wait to tell Tech until...” never. We should never, ever tell Tech.

“Until he isn’t mad at Wrecker and Echo anymore?” Omega supplies sweetly.

Echo and Wrecker make noises of protest; however, Hunter cuts them off with a sharp look. After all, it’s their fault they had to meander into the market at all. Their fault Stardust – as Omega quickly named the animal now in their care – is on a journey back to their ship. Their fault they hadn’t backed Hunter up when he tried to talk his way out of the situation.

“Maybe,” Omega says thoughtfully, oblivious to Hunter’s inner turmoil, “we can let Tech find Stardust on his own. We can put her cage by the nav computer, there’s a perfect spot for it! He’ll see how cute she is, and he won’t mind at all.”

It isn’t the worst idea, and at least it’s an idea. Tech might be miffed at first; however, he will come around. He might try to appear otherwise, but he is just as indulgent to Omega’s whims as the rest of them. The moment he sees how much their sister adores her new ward, he won’t be able to say anything against it. And besides, how much damage could a little rodent do?

TBC

Next Part >>

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41 notes View Post

heidnspeak

8 months ago

Holy Kark! That is so hot! 🔥 @art-soop always brings the heat.

hunter in a dad sweater that is all ✨

885 notes View Post

heidnspeak

4 months ago

Echo’s first hugs with his Bad Batch bros. I can’t even….!

#sweet and touching and awkward and smirky #echo my love

A Quick Cuddle - Part 1 - Wrecker

Hi all! Since I really needed some comfort (and it seems like many others need it right now too) this will be my first post for Echo-vember. I've decided to post one Echo-focused fic each week of November revolving around the first time Echo hugs each of the batch. If you want to be tagged when I post these fics let me know <3

Thank you @renton6echo for coming up with the concept of Echo-vember. I'm excited for it <3

Ao3 Link

Part 2 - Tech - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 3 - Hunter - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 4 - Crosshair - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Summary: The first time Echo hugs Wrecker

Word Count: 1,021

Their mission had gone off without a hitch. It was the first of many, Echo hoped, as they boarded the Marauder to embark on whatever was next for the group. He could barely keep up with how fast everything was moving. One mission after another, no planet longer than a few days, so much to learn he was racing just not to fall behind. Rest days were far and few between. He slept even less with Clones Force 99 than he did when he was a 501st ARC. Even when he did it was always surrounded by people just as he liked it, constantly listening to the sounds of snores and chatter and even breathing. That was okay with Echo. He didn’t have too much time to think in between rushing into battle and his new squad was about as chaotic as he expected. They were nearly yelling over each other in the excited rush that followed their mission. It was swift, simple, but they’d run into the need for an explosion and that got all of their blood pumping. Who would’ve thought, the squad of excitable commandos liked when things went boom. He was busy smiling at them, ignoring the need to make a plan, set a path, move on, while they pushed each other around and chattered.

“That was awesome!” Wrecker whooped as he whipped his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor. A wide smile stretched across his face, skin flushed with excitement. He shoved Echo’s shoulder. “Who knew you could do something like that?!” Right. Echo tried to bite back the grin but he was fighting a losing battle. He’d been on top of a walker, helping plant explosives while the rest of them distracted enemies for him and the big guy. Apparently using his grappling hook to swing off the side of it, wrapping its legs together, and tucking into a roll as he dismounted wasn’t just a common method everyone used. When he’d knocked the walker over he yelled at Wrecker to run, close enough that their backs heated while the explosion went off behind them. Echo wasn’t sure why it was particularly exciting but it may have been the domino effect of explosions that detonated throughout the battlefield that made them all so giddy.

Something about fire. It just really made all of them bouncier.

Echo shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “Had to learn something from all of that ARC training.” It was the first time he’d truly felt confident with the batch. They’d only known each other for a few weeks, spent even less time in the field, and he’d fumbled a few plays - understandable - but he’d let it hurt his ego a bit too much. All those racing thoughts and unease had wriggled its way into his mind. A win was nice. It reminded him who he was. A time when they thought he fit in was even better. The batch was so tight he started to think infiltrating their ranks was impossible.

Maybe he just hadn’t given them enough time.

Wrecker laughed - bright and jovial - nudging Echo again, this time hard enough that he bumped into Hunter who steadied him with a grin. “You can say that again! We make a great team.” In a move that almost knocked all the air out of his lungs Wrecker swept his arms around Echo’s waist, lifting him up into the air. The shock came first along with a surprised noise from the back of his throat - not a squeak, thank you very much - as the big guy hugged him. His feet dangled in the air while Wrecker swayed him back and forth.

This was the first time any of them had hugged him. For a brief moment it was like being doused in freezing cold water but the warmth radiating off of Wrecker made every bone in his body relax. Hugs certainly hadn’t been at the top of his list of priorities - he hadn’t really thought about it - but he found himself smiling regardless. Wrecker was a tactile guy, mostly shoving and throwing his arm around the others, but hugs weren’t out of the question. Echo just hadn’t realized that Wrecker would ever want to hug him with his metal and attitude and newness to the squad so he’d not yet attempted to get physically closer to any of them yet. At least Wrecker was the easiest to befriend, so quick to invite Echo to join him in their down time and offer him space. It felt nice to be treated like a part of things. He couldn’t really hug him back, not with his arms pinned to the side as they were, but he did chuckle, awkwardly patting Wrecker’s side.

“Any time, big guy. Maybe next time we can make it a few more yards away from the explosion before it goes off.” The light scold was taken lightheartedly with a laugh. Wrecker squeezed him tight one last time then put him down, holding onto his shoulder to keep him steady while he regained his footing. The smile stuck to his face so bad he almost had to hide it behind his hand. Something as simple as a hug and he was taken down, reduced to silence, watching dutifully as the rest of them kept getting under each other's skin. Lucky was a word he would use, he supposed. It may seem simple but the worry that his new squad wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to be tactile with him was slowly ebbing away, flickering to the back of his mind even for the moment. His hand itched to do the same things the rest of them seemed so comfortable with - shoving, ruffling hair, hugs - but he wasn’t quite there yet. Wasn’t ready to be the initiator for tactile forms of affection. Wrecker had opened the door, allowed in some form of familiarity he hadn’t quite realized he missed so much. There was still learning, sure, but hope bloomed in his chest at the thought that this could be more than a squad, more than a team, but something closer to his heart altogether.

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heidnspeak

7 months ago

Another chapter of The Only Exception by @starqueensthings I love this story so much! Please check it out. ❤️

PREV | NEXT | FOREWORD | MASTER | AO3

Summary: June joins Howzer on a mission for caffeine. She learns a little about his role, his men, his outlook— and he, unknowingly, helps her navigate her struggle as a teacher. For a fleeting moment, June forgets to uphold that self indoctrinated distaste… that long-upheld aversion. For a moment, his companionship feels like nothing she’s ever felt before… nothing that she’d ever permitted herself to entertain… enjoy. But a moment is just a moment. Enjoy the roller coaster of this chapter— please remember certain aspects of a character (snippets of dialogue, facial expressions, etc) are all specifically placed so the audience can witness growth. We all about growth up in this house!

Rating/WC: all chapters are rated 16+ unless stated otherwise | 4475 words.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The jubilant breeze tumbling throughout the confines of the courtyard perched just opposite those glass doors instantly brandished her hair from her shoulders, beaming rays pouring mercilessly from overhead instantly capitalizing on the opportunity to remind her enraged skin of its power, and she near-winced upon feeling her neck prickle neath its unwelcome intensity.

“You okay?” Howzer asked as they trod down the half dozen stairs toward the locked gate, seemingly noting the sudden cringe atop her features.

“Yeah, fine,” June answered casually. “Spent too much time by the pool with my friend the other day and I’m still paying for it.”

“I saw that,” he chuckled, offering a sympathetic little grimace. “I’d offer some advice but I honestly can’t say I’ve ever had too bad of a sunburn.”

“Yeah, well… Quit braggin’,” June demanded with a smile. “I say this to my best friend all the time: not all of us are gloriously melanous.”

A tingle unrelated to that overhead radiance rolled down her back as his head tipped backward amidst a genuine laugh, and attempting to veil the flush rising rapidly back to her cheeks, she quickly reached to fiddle with the cuff of her sleeve… only to remember she was not wearing long sleeves, instead awkwardly shoving a dawdling finger neath the strap of her watch and giving it an pointless twist around her wrist.

As it turned out, the Combat Base’s close proximity to their chosen cafe perfectly elucidated why Hutchie’s was an establishment of which she’d never heard. Though for how distant it was from the central, senatorial sector of which June was largely familiar, only mere steps atop the pathway leading toward the jovial tinkle of its distant doorbell exposed how just how favoured of a spot it was for the denizens.

Yet even more astonishing than the steady flow of travel cup-laden patrons, stolling past with their steaming flimsi containers of delightful aromatic caf, was truly how simple it was to converse with the man next to her. Despite the butterflies in her stomach continuing their silent attempts at internal homicide, chatting with Howzer felt as intuitive as simply placing one foot in front of the other atop that bustling pathway.

Though their first encounter had far superseded the second in terms of duration, the plaguing ailment and the gentle coaxing he’d required before consenting to treatment had, unfortunately, dominated most of their conversation. Their only encounter since had been tragically too-short to engage in anything more than the hopelessly giddy “hi, I have to run but I really hope I’ll see you soon!” sentiments before the pair parted ways with dopey smiles atop their lips.

And in the void of pain or urgency, it was difficult not to marvel at just how casually that Captain carried himself. Imbued an insouciant energy of which June was sure she’d never be able to embody as effortlessly as Howzer did, breezy probes at conversation spilled from his lips as if he were intrinsically aware of all the topics she could chitter about for hours (though the way that mildly crooked smile wrapped its way around each word had her increasingly confident she would have been perfectly content to just listen to the music of that accented tone). Meanwhile, those large, boot-clad feet moved unhurried toward their destination as if the pathway itself had wordlessly offered to glide below at whatever speed he’d prefer; thankfully he’d defaulted to a cadence more comfortable for her much shorter legs.

As they wove through the ambling crowd, Howzer gushed about his Company; the 742nd was, admittedly, an anomaly of sorts. Not only did their authority ladder end with a Clone Commander and not the Jedi General that typically apexed large sectors of soldiers, but a period of extensive training in its earliest days of formation had seen those boys in teal thrust into an unusual hybrid role. Though classified as a “reconnaissance collection company subfractured from the 91st”, the 742nd was often deployed, instead, as an “assault and secure force”, meaning they were just as frequently tasked with infiltrating an enemy base and securing its perimeter until such a time that reinforcements could arrive and claim the location as their own. Yet, he spoke of his career with the same admirable informality as he would speak of the weather, reminiscing of battles as if recalling the events of a party he’d recently attended, and though she was sure it had rendered her expression to something near a slack-jawed grouper fish, that unforeseen disposition had captured June’s attention and simply refused to free it.

His perspective of war seemed …well, different to anything she’d overheard from soldiers amidst her duties at work. Often those armoured troopers spoke of their duty with an unignorable severity; of the responsibility they carried to both loyally serve and immutably protect the Republic to which they served; of their allegiance to their CO’s, their brethren, and the legion they’d been assigned; of the demand for stoic, unvarying courage in the face of enemies they’d never seen before. Howzer spoke of governing his men as if they were nothing but a bizarrely oversized and appropriately dysfunctional family— ‘vod, he kept calling them before quickly explaining this was a common Mando’a word for brother. He spoke of their battle experiences as if those teal painted men had collectively experienced several disjointed parts of a larger, harrowing adventure; those that were sadly killed on the way were celebrated to a higher degree than those that survived, as the lost had simply moved on to a more exhilarating life of which none of them knew just yet. He spoke of the unremitting desire and obligation to keep his men grounded— to ensure they felt nothing but relative ease and confidence as they marched into the relative unknown…

“Just in here.”

June wrenched her gaze from that enamoring square jaw as he slowed his pace and veered slightly toward a glass door on the right, instead redirecting her eyes upward toward the sign overhead. Hung from the soffit by two oversized copper chains, that deep emerald placard and the loopy gold cursive laying bare the name of that little cafe was immediately familiar, June’s mind quickly extracting the image of the tiny green card she'd opened and cherished some days previous.

“Oh, thank you,” she muttered upon realizing Howzer had pulled the door ajar and was waiting for her to enter ahead of him.

But hardly a step through the door and into that foreign space had thrust an inherently wholesome fragrance into her nose; unseen steaming loaves of delicious crusty sourdough bread, carafes of fresh caf gurgling just out of sight, crystallized and caramelized sugars mixed with an enticing blend of aromatic spices… vanilla, cardamom, cinnamon, clove… and something earthy and deeply familiar.

Though her olfactory system seemed instantly content enough to simply stand atop that threshold and breathe in those potent whiffs of sheer delight, the opportunity was usurped by just how visually overwhelming the interior of that tiny shop was.

“Wow,” June whispered, gaze dancing fervently from corner to corner, item to item, person to person, whilst her feet took her thoughtlessly in Howzer’s wake toward the treat laden display cases on the left.

Like her companion, Hutchie’s was nothing short of …different. Utterly void of that sterile rigidity of which Coruscant remained notorious, three steps into that creaky, rustic cafe had June feeling as if she’d been unknowingly transported to a little bistro on a distant planet. High ceilings and limewashed walls worked in tandem to ensure that relatively cramped square footage was suffused with an indescribable, natural comfort. Taking up the majority of the cafe’s interior real estate was a sitting area along the right side; dozens of time-worn wooden chairs housing patrons of all shapes, colours, and sizes, an equi-diverse array of baked treats perched atop tables anchoring those esoteric conversations.

“Ouuu, Alocasia Zebrina!” June suddenly uttered aloud, excitement surging through her veins as her eyes affixed themselves upon a very familiar-looking striped plant perched in the center of those scrubbed pine tops.

“Say again?” Howzer asked, the din of chatter echoing around those four corners forcing him to lower his ear to only inches from her lips.

“Um, Alocasia Zebrina,” she repeated somewhat meekly, the subtle addition of his aftershave in her nose quickly overpowering that fleeting glee. “The plant on all the tables. I have one at home too. They’re notoriously hard to keep alive.”

Though not robbed of its clarity by the merciless cacophony still ringing around those walls, his chuckling response went wholly unheard, a sharp gasp escaping June’s lips as a searing pain erupted in her knee.

“Ow!” she exclaimed, left hand absently reaching to steady herself with the nearest pillar of solidity, while the other darted downward to appease her now throbbing leg.

“Sorry,” a passerby grunted. “Busy place. Watch where you’re stepping.”

“You okay?”

Again, Howzer went ignored, June’s narrowed gaze affixed on the back of the retreating Zabraki man who had nearly knocked her off her feet as he pushed his way through the throng.

“What happened?” Howzer tried again, this time successfully stealing her attention.

“Nothing,” June dismissed, cheeks flushing upon the realization the support she’d mindlessly sought amidst that unexpected jostle was the crook of that Captain’s elbow. “Guy just knocked into me on his way by. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, this place is always a madhouse,” Howzer answered, resuming normal posture and offering her an apologetic nod. “Stay close.”

Whether the shift was intentional or not, June soon found the back of her hand near-clamped between Howzer’s torso and elbow, the gentle pinch he’d applied to seemingly keep her grasp exactly where it had landed instantly took her mind off the bruise forming earnestly just below her kneecap.

As they lumbered forward in that lagging queue, mahogany floorboards creaking with every step, June’s focus shifted from the drape of her cold fingers around that scuffed plastoid to the display cases passing on her left side— floor to ceiling shelves presented some of the most immaculately prepared pastries she’d ever laid her eyes on; glazed donuts gleaming like edible orbs neath those overhead lights, richly decadent brownies blanketed in a crust of finely chopped nuts, strudels happily leaking their jellied innards onto the emerald green doilies they laid upon whilst waiting to be ingested. On the other side of that scrumptious exhibit, and only visible through gaps between that prolific array of decadence, scurried a dozen green-aproned staff members. Multicoloured hands of all shapes and sizes appeared routinely behind those delicacies, a sheet of protective wax flimsi draped atop palms preparing to extract the confection that some lucky patron up ahead had just claimed as their own. And though her mouth watered uncontrollably at first sight of a delectable looking meiloorun muffin, June’s thoughts had wandered near urgently toward the egregiously overdue caf her very cells continued to demand with each passing, uncaffeinated moment.

“Whatcha gettin’?” Howzer asked as they neared the front counter, her nose flooded with that intoxicating yet unfamiliar, delicate musk as he lowered his lips to a mere breath from her ear.

“Ummmm,” June hesitated, brows furrowing as her eyes danced fervently around the exorbitant list of foreign-beaned caf’s scrawled upon a chalkboard on the wall opposite. “Whatever it was that you sent to my office last week?”

“That was the Apple Java,” he advised her, pointing toward the center of the list. “Large?”

“Extra-large…”

The sudden exposure of that chronic caf addiction, and the way those dark brows raised at her seemingly mechanical, knee-jerk response, would have had her near-cringing neath the weight of self-consciousness had it not been for the smile quickly peeling across those dark lips, twinkly eyes softening as they danced warmly atop her features.

“Extra-large it is,” he repeated with the subtlest of snorts.

“I’ll buy though,” she hastily added, reaching to extract her wallet from the depths of her bag as he turned to greet the humanoid waiting behind the cash register.

“What?” he demanded. “No way! I’m ordering for like sixteen people.”

“So?”

“So! That’s going to cost you a fortune.”

“You fed the entire surgical floor with all those treats last week,” June argued with a shrug, removing her hand from the security of his elbow to unzip her wallet. “I can repay the favour.”

“That was differen—”

“Trust me when I say: I’m more stubborn than you are, and you will not win this.”

She watched his once-smiling lips purse ahead of unsaid protests, gaze narrowing slightly as it bore into hers, seemingly resolute in witnessing the first twitch of muscle that might lay bare any hesitation on her part… but she met that surveying leer with a stern, unwavering one of her own, blue piercing brown as if daring him to object further.

“Fine,” he consented atop the ghost of chuckle. “But put that hand back.”

She repressed a smile as he turned and began to order (twelve regular caf, four decaf, and one extra-large Apple Java), every subsequent breath escaping past her lips struggling to ignore the flutter that had erupted in her gut as he'd assertively collected her cold fingers and directed them back to their previous wreath around his elbow.

“Here’s the Apple Java, and the decaf,” the cashier announced hardly a minute later, passing a familiar looking flimsi cup across that mahogany counter to June’s outstretched palm, and a cardboard carrying tray of four others to Howzer. “We’re just brewing a fresh pot of regular caf. Give us a few minutes, and we’ll call you over when it’s ready.”

June followed in the Captain’s wake a half dozen paces toward one of the smaller tables anchored against the wall, the soul-warming aroma of apple and peekaboo vanilla wafting upward from the container in her hands near-banishing those irksome butterflies. With a small squeal of released anticipation and excitement she popped open the tab on that duraplas lid and took a sip of that scalding delight.

Snickering at the undeniable joy atop her features, Howzer pulled the nearest chair out from its perch beneath that scrubbed pine tabletop and gestured for her to sit, before placing both that laden travel tray and his helmet atop the table between them and taking a seat of his own.

“So you’re a full caffeine kinda guy,” June gleaned with a smirk, noting instantly that Howzer had failed to collect a cup from the collection on the table whilst she cradled hers with both hands.

“Oh absolutely,” Howzer answered, casting the decaffeinated collection of cups in front of him a near-revolted look. “What’s the point of drinking a caf if it’s not to wake you up?”

“Warmth?” June suggested with a small shrug. “Flavour? Even with reduced caffeine levels, it’s a fantastic analeptic. Some like to keep their cortisol levels low. Not to mention it keeps the bowels moving…”

June hurried to hide the flush rising earnestly to her cheeks behind that flimsi container as Howzer’s head tipped back amidst a full chested laugh that promised to dismantle her composure, nose scrunching neath his amusement and raising the little hairs on her arms.

“I guess those are all pretty valid reasons,” he spoke, draping an arm casually atop the backrest of his seat and peering across the table at her with that characteristic twinkle behind his eyes.

She shirked his gaze as discreetly as she could, pretending to pluck a nonexistent piece of fluff from the rim of her drink as she fought to restrain the newly invigorated flapabout in her gut.

“Tell me about class,” he continued as she hurried to pacify the lingering capriciousness by bringing her caf to her lips again. “What happened that made your boss so happy?”

June paused only long enough to force that still blistering liquid down her throat before offering him an evasive, one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know,” she mused, licking the remnants of the last gulp from her top lip and sitting up straight in her chair. “The guys in class have always seemed so …uninterested? It's been really hard to get them to engage with any of the content we’ve been trying to teach them, despite doing everything we can to make the lectures interesting.”

“They’re just not paying attention?” Howzer probed.

“Right… or paying attention to the wrong thing, or being disruptive. Some of them would just spend all three lecture hours sleeping… Some of them would stare at me like it was some stupid game and it drove me up the kriffing wall… Others at least tried to make it look like they were paying attention, but it’s not hard to spot someone that’s napping with their eyes open…

“Today they were actually responsive… even borderline excited about what they were learning. I know, for a soldier, it’s probably not super exhilarating stuff that we’re teaching but… I don’t know. I think it’s all pretty cool once you understand the importance of the material? Maybe I’m just a giant dork, but…”

“Well…” Howzer started as her thoughts trailed away. “You said it, not me...”

“Oh ha ha ha,” June feigned with a roll of her eyes, though a smirk peeled across her lips.

The feeling of his amber-eyed, surveying gaze back atop her features forced her eyes back to the lid on her cup, bringing a cold finger to trail thoughtlessly around the rim of that white duraplas.

“I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to take it too personally,” Howzer continued after a moment’s pause. “That’s a bit of a weird age for troopers, to be honest. This is their first time off Kamino. They’re used to being barked at round the clock by ARC Troopers who wouldn’t recognize ‘consideration’ if it bit them on the ass. All these guys know is having their critical thinking tested every minute of every day, learning respect, and camaraderie, and strategy… all that kind of stuff. Now they’re sitting in a quiet classroom on a foreign planet, separated from everyone they grew up with, being taught combat medicine by civilians. It’s no excuse for, well… staring, but it’ll all be pretty foreign to those guys for a while.”

Gnawing mindlessly on her left thumbnail, June let his words wash over her, a peculiar sensation lurching deep in her gut that felt something-near …guilt.

“Hmm,” she hummed, pulling her finger from its clamp between her lips atop the cold realization that maybe… after all these weeks… she hadn’t been the only person uncomfortable in that classroom. “So it probably feels as awkward for them as it does for me?”

Howzer nodded, that infamously warm gaze thankfully lacking any semblance of judgment or critique as it landed back upon her. “Probably more so, considering almost all of them have probably never talked to a girl before. I know the ‘hot teacher’ comment bothered you but… they’re still learning.”

“Who said it bothered me?” June retorted, though the indignance of her demand diminished instantly upon seeing the deeply skeptical look he cast from across the table. Pursing her lips to repress a culpable grin, she hid behind her coffee cup and asked, “I was that obvious, eh?”

“June, your face speaks louder than your words ever could,” he snickered. “Those eyes could light someone on fire if they glared hard enough.”

June offered only a repressed snort, unable to offer him the titter he deserved whilst her insides churned amidst a simmering remorse that she hadn’t expected to feel for that century of once-disrespectful soldiers. “Kriff, now I feel like an asshole,” she mumbled.

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Howzer replied with an appeasing smile. “They’re tough. And if they’re not yet, they will be soon. But—” Abruptly plagued by an unprecedented wash of what appeared to be diffidence, he paused to clear his throat and redirect his gaze to a blemish on the crown of his helmet. “—If you want them to stop staring, I’d maybe ditch the glasses.”

“What?” June asked, upper lip cocking in confusion. “Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he started, eyes following his fingers as they began to absently drum atop that worn wooden table. “They’re nice. Um, really nice. Almost distracting… I guess?”

The profound reddening of his ears nowhere matched that of her cheeks. Skin prickling as uncomfortably as if the beaming sun beyond that tinkling doorbell had managed to scorch both her shoulders and every inch of her face, she instantly lifted her hand again to subconsciously hide behind that emerald green cup.

“Caf’s up!”

That stentorian call thankfully spared June the need to respond, and they stood from those rickety wooden chairs as if the seats had suddenly burned white hot below their butts. As Howzer scooped his helmet from the table and tucked it neatly neath his arm, June collected the travel tray and followed him back toward the counter.

The twelve regular cups of caf had been smartly divided into trays of four like their decaffeinated counterparts, but with one of June’s hands occupied by her own cup, and Howzer’s helmet plaguing the mobility of his right arm, it quickly became little more than a game of tetris attempting to figure out exactly how the only two remaining limbs were going to successfully cargo sixteen steaming cups of caf for the four-block journey back to Base.

After several precarious and time-consuming attempts at stacking them on top of each other, and much to the mixed amused annoyance of the still bustling queue behind them, June heaved a sigh. “Can you just put that damn helmet on,” she bossed at Howzer atop an exasperated chuckle. “We need your second arm.”

“No,” Howzer refuted instantly. “I won’t be able to see you properly. And I don’t like having it on if I don’t have to...”

“You don’t need to see me, you just need to see where you’re walki—”

“But I want t—”

“‘Kay fine,” she interjected, rolling her eyes and putting her cup of caf down on the counter. “If you balance them on my arm, I can take two trays in one hand and my cup in the other.” Though he cocked an eyebrow at her in a motion of unadulterated doubt, she dismissed his silent concern with an impatient shake of the head. “It’s okay, I used to be a server.”

Atop the rapidly growing pressure of agitation behind them, June insisted. “I’ll be fine, just do it before someone tries to take out my other kneecap.”

Looking as though he thoroughly disagreed with this seemingly impulsive plan, Howzer carefully lowered one tray on top of the other on June’s awaiting right wrist, hands lingering only inches from that teetering tower, poised to resume the weight should she let slip even a whimper of discomfort.

Though it prickled against her sunburnt chest, letting those heavy trays tip backward against her skin diminished some of their burden, and she quickly offered him a nod of approval before collecting her own cup and stepping back from the counter. Once Howzer had balanced his own allotted pair of travel trays, they carefully made for the door.

“You were going to send a cadet to do this?” June snorted as they traversed that sunlit path back to Base, heart seizing for the fourth time in as many minutes as her dribbling freight gave a perilous wobble in her arms and threatened to douse her lower half in scalding hot caf.

“Absolutely,” he laughed. “It’s a great character building exercise.”

“Character building?!” she repeated, utterly aghast. “Pffffft! Seems kinda mean if you ask me, but if that’s what lets you sleep at night.”

“Says the girl who slept in this morning,” he snarked back at her, turning to give her a smirk so dazzling, the discomfort of that hot and heavy cargo momentarily vanished.

“You know what,” June argued neath a chuckle, “I think I deserve a little credit for not sleeping in every kriffing morning. Not only do my shifts never end on time, but my bed is soft, and big, and warm, and a challenge to get out of on any given day…”

“Sounds like a place I’d like to be,” Howzer chortled, turning to grant a fellow trooper in a suit of white and orange a casual nod as they passed each other along that path.

Howzer clearly thought nothing of it, continuing toward their destination unaffected by that off-the-cuff remark, and wholly unaware of the way June’s shoulders had slumped near-theatrically in its wake. Yet, June’s stomach fell with speed thrice that of which they walked, disappointment wiping the lingering remnants of that diminishing amusement from her lips whilst the darkest corner of her mind eagerly raised a red flag and flapped it earnestly across her awareness.

‘So that’s what he wants,’ she concluded, the hubris of her distaste for men instantly usurping the unfamiliar giddiness that had seen her near-intoxicated by his presence for days… weeks. ‘To visit to my bed.’

And the sudden and complete banishment of that teased sense of adventure— that fleeting feeling of ‘maybe I was wrong’ or ‘maybe there are men I can tolerate…’ — had that once gloriously enriching Apple Java cascading down the back of her tongue like spoiled vinegar.

“Sorry—” she muttered after a contemptuous snort, dropping her gaze to her toes and watching that gum-embedded pathway lead them back to Base. “By formal invitation only.”

An impossibly urgent sense of relief surged through her veins as the first signs of that construction-laden building came into view across the road, the gargantuan glass doors they’d left through some time earlier glimmering in the oppressive midday sun as they approached that barbed gate, stopping only so Howzer could scan his wrist comm below the sensor and permit them access.

“June?”

It was only then she realized he’d been talking. Too lost in her own welling disappointment and simmering sense of regret, she’d thoughtlessly tuned out everything around her.

“Sorry, yeah?” she answered, squinting amidst the effort of finding that olive face.

“You still okay there?” Howzer repeated, gesturing with a nod to the cargo she’d, once again, entirely forgotten she was carrying.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, knowing if she divulged the small river of scalding hot caf trickling from her wrist to her elbow, it would only further delay the end of this interaction.

“Okay. Gimme one quick sec,” Howzer requested of her, stopping as the gate closed behind them and shifting his own freight enough to bring his forearm to his mouth. “Spades… come in.”

“‘Sup, cap?” chirped a nearly identical voice through the static of that hidden communication system.

“Status on barracks?” Howzer asked.

“Barracks?” that voice repeated neath an incredulous laugh. “Uhhh… well, nine battalions have landed since last night so it’s safe to say ‘crowded’ is an appropriate word.”

“Duty or dismissed?”

“Unless uniform policy has changed and we’re allowed to loaft around in our underwear on duty, I’m going to guess dismissed. Why? Aren’t you supposed to be in the briefing anyway?”

“Meeting doesn’t start for a few minutes,” Howzer clarified, and I’ve, er… got some company. Thanks for the intel.”

June watched him glance somewhat apologetically in her direction before ending that somewhat cryptic conversation, eyes hardening slightly, as if her labeling her as such was mildly offensive.

‘Company?’ she scowled. ‘Barracks?’

“You trying to show off your bed, now?” June queried with a cocked brow, watching that sharp jaw tense whilst he chewed his lip, brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he silently deciphered some mental puzzle she wasn’t yet privy to

“No,” Howzer chuckled, a lop-sided smile returning quickly to those lips. “Trust me, it’s nothing to bat an eye at. Come on, we’ll go through the hangar.”

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