Fox has the next two days off. Completely free of scheduled events. Ostensibly, it’s time for him to unwind, to rest and relax and reconnect with friends. Really, it’s two days in which he’s expected to work out, take care of his armor, catch up on old work, etc., etc., etc.
It’s a self-care break, except Fox is a weapon, so the care he gives himself is to keep himself operating at maximum capacity.
He has so much paperwork to do.
He has no friends with whom to reconnect.
He finishes another form and sends it out. He finishes another form and sends it out. He finishes another form and sends it out. He finishes another form and sends it out.
He blinks back a wave of exhaustion, one of the slow ones that builds at the base of his neck and comes crashing over his eyes.
He finishes another form and sends it out. He finishes another form and sends it out. He finishes another form and sends it out.
Logically, he knows there’s nothing in his eyes, and that grit the magnitude of what he’s feeling would be a lot more painful, but it really feels like his eyes are full of sand. Big sand. Stubborn sand. He rubs them and the sand becomes enraged.
He really needs a fucking nap.
He can’t. He doesn’t have time.
Knockknock knock. Knock.
Cody.
“‘S unlocked,” Fox manages, shoving himself upright with no small amount of pain. He considers putting his bucket back on, then throws that idea back out. It’s too far away and, if he stands, he might pass out.
He runs a hand through his hair. He’s just come from a session at the gym, no, wait, was that? Three hours ago? Four? His hair is vaguely sweaty, that’s the point. It’s sweaty enough to stay where he puts it.
He shoves some mugs around and, as the door swishes open, places his hands flat on his desk, palm-down. Here comes Cody, Fox. Time to get your shit together.
“Fox?”
“How can I help you, Commander?”
Cody looks confused. Fox is also confused.
“...Thire said you’d be in here. Aren’t you supposed to be on leave?”
“Ha. That’s funny, vod. Why are you here?”
“To come and see you,” Cody says, cocking his head. “I know we’ve been kind of… distant, lately, and I want to fix that.”
Fox blinks.
“It’s not fair to you, vod,” Cody continues. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just following orders.” Here, he’s stilted, following some sort of script. “It’s not fair to blame you instead of the system.”
Fox blinks again. He’s too tired for this bullshit. “And?”
“And you should come back to my room with me. I’ve got a private one, you know. Even just for leave.” Cody’s smile has always been lopsided. Fox doesn’t need to remove his helmet to see it.
Fox wants. Fox rarely gets what he wants.
“Come on, vod.”
If he was tired before, he’s incoherent by the time they reach Cody’s room. He’s not very helpful when it comes to getting his armor off, but Cody doesn’t seem to mind. He prods Fox into having water and something spicy and sweet and crunchy and then water again, and says, “Lay down, Fox’ika. You’re exhausted.”
Fox doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know why Cody’s being so nice to him, but he does know how to follow orders.
“No, under the covers, genius.”
Cody pulls blankets over Fox.
He is so tired and he hurts so much and this bed is so soft and warm.
“Sleep, vod’ika. I’ve got you.”
Fox is out cold, arms around Cody’s waist and forehead pressed to Cody’s thigh, legs tangled with his and stomach warm on Cody’s knee like he’s trying to soak up as much skin contact as possible.
Which, Cody realizes, he probably is.
Three hours into their impromptu little cuddlefest, Fox has yet to move, save to press closer to Cody or lean back into the hand carding through his hair. He needs sleep badly, like his body’s crying for it, and he needs kind contact just as much.
He’s been suffering so much and Cody has just been making it worse and fuck, Cody knew the situation on Coruscant was bad, worse than they were allowed to know, and Cody had just left him to that, condemned a brother for being stuck between a rock and a hard place and—
It’s no use. Kenobi’s advice is always to focus on the present, so Cody redoubles his efforts on Fox’s hair, determined to get him to melt into the mattress. Fox has always liked having his hair played with.
Fox hums a little and nuzzles Cody’s thigh, heaving a sigh as he settles into a more relaxed position.
“There you go, kih’vod,” Cody praises. “There you go.”
Fox sighs again as Cody scratches his scalp. Then, Cody backs off, ready to let him settle back into the sleep he so desperately needs.
Of course Rex would choose now to come barging in.
“Cody, you’re not gonna fucking believe—”
Cody’s drawing his hand up in a stop gesture before the door can finish closing.
For a moment, Rex is silent in the doorway, standing stock-still, mouth agape.
“If this is going to be a problem,” Cody warns, “you have to leave.”
Rex is still staring, eyes tracing the exhausted lines of Fox’s face, the too-prominent ridges of his ribs. “Cody, he looks…”
“I know, vod,” Cody sighs, putting his hand back on Fox’s head, shielding his face from view. “I know.”
“I didn’t… How are they…?”
“I know.”
Rex stands in the doorway for interminable minutes, watching Fox’s chest rise and fall, watching Cody play with his hair. Then, slowly, quietly, he sits down at the table and pulls his ‘pad out. He goes back to work.