For once, it wasn’t Fox’s fault. It’s not like he reopened his vibroknife wound on purpose, although Hedge was just as angry about it. He must have garnered some pity, though, maybe from the way the fever’s made him look half-dead, because Hedge did at least let him sleep in his own room.
And with his own room came his own Jedi - Quinlan curled around Fox’s too-hot form, whispering reassurances and dirty jokes - anything to distract Fox from the pain in his side and the fire in his veins. It’s not a half-bad way to pass the time, if he’s being honest; Quinlan with him and a holofilm on his datapad. Could be much worse.
Fox should be sleeping. He knows he should be sleeping, but even with Quinlan serving as a steady bulwark against his back, the nightmares won’t leave him alone, so he’s awake when the comm comes in. Unlucky, just like always.
It’s not Fox’s comm, though; the chime comes from Quinlan’s wrist, that annoying piping chime he’d set as Obi-Wan’s ringtone. Quinlan props himself up on one elbow, dislodging Fox in the process.
“Hey, watch it,” Fox grumbles. “I’m injured, you jerk.”
“Yeah, yeah, be careful with the damsel in distress, I know.”
“I’ll show you damsel, fuckin’ watch me,” Fox mumbles, but all he does is squirm backwards into the solid wall of Quinlan’s chest.
“Mm, yeah, you do that. I’ll be waiting.” Quinlan picks up the call. “This better be important, Kenobi.”
–This may be the most important night of my life, Vos, and I need your help.- Kenobi sounds breathless, uncharacteristically.
“Oh? Did Anakin finally confess to what’s-her-face?”
-What? No. No, I’m sure that’s already happened- it doesn’t matter! What matters is that Cody has invited me out. For drinks. With all his brothers. And I need your help, Quin, I need a wingman-
Fox perks up. All Cody’s brothers? Did he get a comm? He checks his datapad, but there’s nothing.
Huh. That’s - that’s kind of odd. Sure, Cody hasn’t called him in a while, but… But it’s probably nothing. Fox is overthinking it. It’s hard to get anything straight with his head pounding like it is.
He’ll just- he’ll just text Cody real fast, while Vos and Kenobi sort out their strategy.
Me: hhey. Heard y ou guysare going out tonight?
His hands feel hot, and heavy as the rest of him, but it’s fine. Time slips away, just a bit, and the datapad slips from Fox’s sweaty fingers. When he comes back to himself, it’s to Quinlan reaching over him to put it on the floor.
“You going out?” Fox murmurs.
“Nah. Obi can handle himself. I’ve got a feverish Commander to look after tonight.”
Fox hums in contentment. There’s something he’s forgetting, though, something— “Wait, am I going out?”
Quin’s rich voice is suffused with confusion. “I don’t think so?” he says into Fox’s sweaty hair.
Fox mulls that over. “But… Cody?”
Quinlan is silent behind him. Large calloused hands pull Fox closer, and Quin buries his nose into the join between Fox’s neck and shoulder. “I don’t think you should be going out tonight, sweetheart. You’re sick.”
Right. Fox is sick. But Fox is also-
He’s also-
He’s something.
He’s Cody’s brother! That’s right. He’s Cody’s brother, and all Cody’s brothers are going out tonight, which means Fox is going out tonight. He tells Quinlan as much.
Quinlan doesn’t say anything, which isn’t like him. Concerned, Fox twists all the way around to see Quinlan’s face, pinched with worry and chewing on his lip like he does when he’s trying to solve a problem. He takes a deep breath, considering something, before repeating, “I don’t think so. You’re too sick.”
“But…”
“No, baby. Just stay here with me, okay?”
No, Fox is supposed to be going out. He’s sure now. He grabs his datapad to text Cody that he’s on his way.
Cody: where’d you hear that?
Me: General Kenobi? Youre ay 79s right??
Cody: how do you even do this.
That’s not - that’s not what Cody is supposed to say.
Me: were you going t o tell me?
Cody: just - do you want me to say it?
Cody: no. you’re not invited.
Cody: I need this to go perfectly, ok, and last time
Cody: last time you burst into tears after two shots, Fox
Fox blinks, and tears somehow hotter than the rest of him slip down his face. Ah. He’s already crying. Right.
Me: oh
Me: okau
It’s not like Cody is wrong. The last time they’d all gone out together had ended with Fox sobbing into the sticky tabletop, but-
He’d had good reason. Even if he’d been too hysterical to coherently tell his brothers why. He usually does have good reason to cry, even if he’s having a bit of trouble reasoning right now. His life is sort of full of horrible things. Hence the current tears.
Maybe - maybe he was being selfish. Dramatic. Fuck, Wolffe had lost his whole battalion, and here Fox was crying over the loss of just a few squads. And if he’s crying already, he’d certainly end up crying more later. He tries to put himself in Cody’s shoes, consider how he would feel if he was trying to make a good impression on Quinlan and Cody was there crying.
He thinks he would go to Cody.
He abandons that train of thought.
It’s not relevant. Fox is Fox and Cody is Cody and the space between them has never felt so massive, even though they’re on the same planet.
Quinlan’s hands wrap around his, gently pulling the datapad away. “Baby…”
“Why are you still here?”
Quinlan puts the datapad back on the ground, further away this time. Then, he pulls Fox close and presses their foreheads together. “Fox, baby, I’m staying with you tonight. I’m not going anywhere.”
But that’s just Fox, being selfish again. He really can’t help himself, even as he curls into Quinlan’s chest. “No. Y’ should, you should go. Your brother asked for your help.”
Quinlan throws his leg over Fox’s thighs and starts rubbing wide circles into his back. “Fuck them. They can go have their fun. We’re gonna keep watching holos, alright?”
His throat’s too tight to speak. Fox shakes his head, pressing into Quinlan like he could disappear inside his ribcage. The worst part is he’s so stupidly, selfishly glad for Quinlan’s presence that he doesn’t think he could argue for him to leave even if he could get a sound out past the sobs. He wants him to stay. He knows he should let him go.
Stupid, selfish Fox. This is exactly what Cody was talking about. Can’t control himself, can never stop crying once he starts. Would Cody have invited him even if Obi-Wan wouldn’t be there?
Vaguely, he’s aware of Quinlan moving, hands on his back and words in his hair and something else Quinlan’s doing behind his back. He can’t bring himself to care. He tucks his face into Quinlan’s shoulder and just cries.
It’s honestly pathetic. Fox is already so fucking exhausted that his stupid little crying fit tips him over into sleep, curled tightly against Quinlan and probably getting his shirt soaking wet. He drifts, half-caught in a nightmare, for who knows how long. Long enough for dream-Palpatine to kick him around some more. Long enough for Quinlan to talk to someone on his comms. Long enough to sweat through his blacks and dream of Cody’s disappointment.
The vibroknife wound in his side aches. There’s broken ribs underneath, too, where the Chancellor had kicked him, breaking bones and ripping open Hedge’s careful stitches. Fox suddenly can’t stand the heat of his bodyglove; it’s cooking him from the inside out, starting with the gash in his side.
“Fox, love. Why are you stripping?”
“Huh?”
Gentle hands meet his own; someone helps the black fabric up and over Fox’s head, and he sighs with relief. Quinlan.
Quinlan’s still here.
“There you go. That better?”
“Than’s.” Fox flops back down and rolls over into Quinlan again. He’s warm, too, but. Better warm. Different warm.
It’s nice. Fox snuggles back under one strong arm. “You’re still here?”
Quinlan threads his fingers into Fox’s hair. “Of course. Not going anywhere.”
You should, Fox thinks. You should get away from me before I ruin you, too.
“I think,” Quinlan starts, in that voice that always means he’s done something he thinks is clever. “The party might be coming to you.”
“Oh no,” Fox groans. “Does that just mean Hedge with another set of shots?”
“No,” Quinlan laughs, “but that’s probably going to happen at some point soon. It means I think your batch is on their way with card games and apologies.”
Fox freezes in the circle of Quinlan’s arms. “What.”
Quinlan laughs like he thinks it’s funny, like he didn’t just invite Fox’s batch into the Guard’s headquarters while Fox is out of commission. Fuck.
“Why- what- why would you do that? Why would they want to? ”
It just doesn’t make any sense. Cody didn’t want to see him. Did Quinlan-
No. Quinlan wouldn’t threaten them. He’s not like that. Which means that somehow, for some reason, Quinlan got them to come here, for Fox.
Quinlan swears under his breath. “Hey, deep breaths, Fox. I’m sorry, I should have said that differently. Cody and the rest of your batch are coming here to see you. I told them you were sick, and they decided, of their own accord, to come over.”
Fox squints at his Jedi suspiciously. “Of their own accord, huh?” That sounds like a load of bantha shit.
“Shocking, I know. The Emotional Incompetence Squad may have gotten their shit together just this once.” Quinlan kisses Fox’s forehead. “It’ll be okay, I promise. If they stress you out, I’ll make them leave.”
Fox is still squinting as he accepts the kiss, but his overheated mind can’t quite grasp what’s going on. First Cody didn’t want to see Fox at all, and now he’s derailed his whole night to come see Fox?
“You did something,” he accuses.
“Who, me?” Quinlan gasps. “What Obi-Wan does and where he goes is his own business. If Cody follows him like a lost puppy, that’s not on me.”
Huh. So that’s the play. “Sneaky,” Fox says, and playfully swats at Quinlan with a sweaty, shaking hand.
“I know, almost like it’s my job,” Quinlan laughs, then sobers. “But I think he would have come regardless. And the others certainly didn’t have to follow Cody. They care about you, Fox, even when they don’t show it well.”
Fox would give almost anything for that to be true. But it’s not, and he doesn’t want to wipe the hope off Quinlan’s expression, so he stays quiet and folds himself closer.
Manipulated or not, they’re coming, and Fox wants to be a bit more composed when they do. This is a salvageable situation, he tells himself like he tells the shinies on their first missions. He can do this, he just needs a bit more time hidden in Quinlan’s shirt. He’ll be fine. If Coruscant has taught Fox anything, it’s how to just keep going, even when everyone around him hates his guts.
Quinlan must feel his apprehension, because he pulls the blankets up higher and whispers, “I love you,” into Fox’s hair as he drifts off again.
As soon as he processes what’s happened, how badly he’s fucked up, Cody rounds the rest of the batch up and tells them they’re headed to the Corrie barracks. He’d felt immediate regret after texting Fox; it’s worse now that he knows his brother is sick and hurting and Cody has managed to make it worse. He can manage battlefields, whole planets of war and politics, but somehow, talking to his own brother is beyond him.
Fox didn’t even tell Cody he was sick. No, he had to hear that from Obi-Wan - apparently Vos is there, with Fox (and Cody isn’t ), and he told Obi-Wan.
“Hey.” Bly interrupts him with a quiet word and a hand on his shoulder. “Stop that. I can see you eating yourself alive in there.”
Cody just shakes his head; Wolffe throws a sharp look over his shoulder from the driver’s seat of the speeder. “We. I. No, we screwed this one up, Bly. Not just what I said, we’ve been being assholes to him for a while now.”
“And he’s usually an asshole back. Or, well, he used to be,” Bly says thoughtfully. “Something’s changed.”
“Yeah,” Wolffe scoffs. “Now he ignores us half the time.”
“That, and he doesn’t respond to half my texts, and the crying… but we should’ve pushed to find out what was going on, not written him off.” Cody can’t even really admit to himself why he’d told Fox not to come.
“Okay, okay,” Ponds interrupts from the passenger’s side. “We’re all assholes, everyone fucked up, we get it. There’s nothing we can do about it now. The real question is what are we gonna do when we get there?”
“If I may,” Obi-Wan says delicately, “I have a bit of experience in dealing with, ah, difficult brothers.”
Wolffe snorts and mutters something about “fucking Skywalker” under his breath.
“Quite,” continues Obi-Wan. “A heartfelt apology is always a good place to start.”
Cody’s a bit skeptical about the always part. He’d never thought he’d treat Fox like this, but absolutes haven’t been working out well for him lately. “Right, and I think he mostly feels left out.”
Obi-Wan nods at him. “That, too. Although you’ve said most of the time he’s unable to make your meetings; why the Coruscant Guard is run so ragged is somewhat concerning. I don’t have the full picture, but from speaking with Quinlan…” Obi-Wan trails off and for a moment, all five of them are silent.
“Vos spends a lot of time around the Guard, then?” asks Wolffe abruptly.
Obi-Wan laughs so suddenly he almost snorts. “Yes, you could say that.”
Wolffe’s too busy landing the speeder to really respond, but Bly’s caught a scent, and he narrows his eyes in speculation. “Vos, huh? I can see it.”
“He’s Fox’s type,” Ponds remarks.
Cody frowns. “Does Fox even have a type? Has he ever dated before?”
“Don’t think so. Too busy,” Bly answers. “But Vos is tall and dark and a bit dangerous, and I can see Fox going for that.”
“Yeah,” Wolffe agrees, “but he’s also an asshole, and I thought it was opposites that attracted.” He gets a smack on the shoulder from Cody for that one, even though it’s true.
“We’re being nice to Fox, remember?” Cody steps out into the barracks’ speeder bay. It’s dark and ever so slightly grimy, just like the rest of the planet. Gods, he misses the Outer Rim.
“Right, yeah. Nice. Don’t want to get yelled at by what’s-his-face again. Thire.” Wolffe’s gaze darts to the corners of the bay, as if the young Commander was going to pop out and start lecturing again. That had been an entertaining visit to the drunk tank. Cody has video.
“Well, you’re only tipsy tonight, not puking your guts out, so I think he’ll be a bit more lenient with you,” Ponds laughs. “Unless you’re planning on getting plastered in Fox’s quarters, that is.”
Wolffe looks considering. “Well, it’s shore leave, and I know Fox’s boys make a good brew…I’ll just sit right next to Fox and he can shield me from his vicious little commander.”
“Fox is sick,” Cody reminds them firmly, pushing the button to call the lift. “No one is getting drunk, and everyone is going to be nice.”
“Oh, right. Yes, Marshal Commander Cody, sir!”
Cody slaps the back of Wolffe’s head as the lift rattles down to their level and the doors pry themselves open. Ponds and Bly give the thing a skeptical look, but Cody strides right in and tries to set a good example. Judging the state of the barracks won’t help matters.
The lift heaves to a stop and they all pile out. Ponds looks almost green. “I don’t believe that’s up to code. I might go so far as to call it a death trap,” Obi-Wan remarks.
“Yeah,” Cody answers absently. He’s too busy examining the rest of the floor to pay much attention to what the others are saying. The place is a wreck. A well-maintained wreck, like someone’s put quite a bit of effort into keeping it clean and presentable, but still a wreck. “What’s the room number again?”
Bly rattles it off, and they all troop through the unfamiliar hallways. The Corrie barracks are a bit of a maze - the building looks like it’s been stitched together from the ruins of many other buildings, and the effect is somewhat disorienting. When they reach Fox’s quarters, Cody raises his hand to knock and then hesitates. He’s… nervous? Guilty? He’s never had this sort of trouble talking to his own batch before.
Ponds bumps their shoulders together and Obi-Wan gives him a nod. Cody takes in a sharp breath and knocks, his knuckles rapping smartly on the door.
Fox is the one to answer. “Come in,” he calls, and his voice is hoarse and strained. “It’s unlocked.”
So it is.
The door slides open and they all push into the room; Cody’s gaze immediately goes to his brother, looking sweaty and flushed next to the tall form of Quinlan Vos. He’s sitting up at attention, looking as stiff and unsure as Cody feels. Vos’s face is a thundercloud. Cody almost loses his nerve. He’s never seen the man look anything other than cheerful and uncaring.
They lock eyes for a heavy moment, until Obi-Wan steps out from behind Cody and Quinlan’s gaze moves. His whole face brightens, and the two Jedi beam at each other. Meanwhile, Cody watches Fox fight the urge not to stand and salute. In the year since the war’s began, Cody’s lost some of the edge he had on Kamino, dulled the urge to treat every natborn he meets as a superior. Fox, clearly, has not.
“General Kenobi,” he says, inclining his head.
Obi-Wan bows in response. “Commander Fox. There is no need for titles here. You can call me Obi-Wan.”
Fox’s face doesn’t change, but Cody knows his brothers’ tells, and he knows Fox is supremely uncomfortable. He just won’t show it here. “Yessir.” Then, to the group at large, “You can… sit down wherever.”
It’s only then that Cody looks at the rest of the room. It’s not a single suite like he’d assumed, and he realizes with a start that they’re not alone.
Another Corrie is tucked into a ball on one of the top bunks, seemingly asleep.
“Sorry,” Cody whispers. “Didn’t mean to be loud.”
Fox follows his gaze. “Oh, don’t worry about Thire. He can sleep through anything. Slept through his alarm three times in the last week.” His eyes dart to Obi-Wan. “Not that he was late for his shift, I mean.”
Obi-Wan’s curious head tilt goes unnoticed by Fox as Wolffe charges forward, situating himself as far as possible from the lump that is Thire. He ends up next to Fox on the bed and elbows him gently. “Heard you’re sick?”
Fox shifts uncomfortably. “Nothing too bad.”
“You sound bad,” says Ponds. “But I guess you’re not in the medbay.”
Cody goes to sit on one of the open bunks, then reconsiders. A heartfelt apology, Obi-Wan had said, and he doesn’t feel very capable of that with Vos staring him down like a prey animal. “Fox? Wanna come get some water with me?” He holds up his water bottle.
“Uh. Sure,” says Fox, and shoves to his feet with some effort. Vos stares after them, and Cody’s almost glad when the door closes and they’re out of sight.
“Uh,” Cody begins eloquently. “We brought cards. For later.”
“Right,” Fox says. “Do you even need to fill your water bottle?”
Cody waggles his water bottle again. “Hydration is crucial,” he lectures, in his best Alpha-17 voice.
“Uh-huh.” Fox points down the hall. “Water fountain’s that way.”
It’s maybe 50 feet away. Cody opens his mouth to tease Fox, but closes it immediately. Fox is leaning up against the wall, skin glistening with sweat, and every line of his body exudes weariness. “I’ll just, uh, yeah. I’ll go fill it.”
Fox follows him slowly, and the water bottle’s half full by the time he catches up. “What do you want, Cody?” he asks as sharply as he can.
Now’s the moment. Cody’s skin itches, almost like it’s too tight, but he squares his shoulders and looks at Fox.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said those things, and I shouldn’t have excluded you. There’s - there’s no excuse for it. I’ve-”
He breaks off. This is harder to admit than he’d thought. “I’ve been a shitty brother.”
Fox blinks, clearly taken aback. “Cody, I…”
Cody barrels on. “We’ve all been shitty to you, and you’re clearly going through something and you haven’t been the easiest to get along with, but that’s no excuse.” He caps the bottle and turns to face Fox head-on. “I’m sorry, Fox.”
His brother scrubs a hand over his face. “Cody, you don’t have to - you didn’t have to come all the way here for that. It’s okay, I’ll get over it. And you were right, I did cry all night last time, so. I get it.”
Cody cringes. “Yeah, well, crying is a really shitty thing to get mad at someone for. And hey, we didn’t come all the way just for that. We also brought cards. It’s been a while since we’ve played anything as a batch.”
“Right, but…didn’t you want to go out? Impress Kenobi, and all that? Not hang around with a sick Corrie.”
“You’re more important.”
Fox freezes, and his eyes fill with tears. “I… Cody, I…”
Cody’s there in an instant, his hands reaching out for Fox’s shoulders instinctually. It’s a movement Cody has done for his brothers since decanting; Cody will reach out, and a brother will reach back. Fox falls into him, tucking his fever-warm face into the crook of Cody’s neck, and Cody does them both the favor of pretending he can’t feel the tears begin to fall. “I’ve got you,” Cody says. “I’ve got you, Fox.”
Fox shakes his head into Cody’s chest. “You don’t have to.” The words come out in little hiccuping sobs. “I’m just - I wish it was different.”
“I know I don’t have to,” Cody murmurs. “But I want to, because you’re my brother and I love you.” Fox cries more at that, still shaking his head in a silent no. Cody just holds on and wonders what the hell had happened, to push them so far apart? To break Fox down like this - Fox, who had stopped crying at age four, and who was now a shuddering mess in Cody’s arms.
Cody’s not sure how long they stand there. Four, five minutes, maybe? Fox cries and Cody holds him, sweeping a hand up and down his back and murmuring comforting nonsense until Fox’s tears taper off and he pulls away, wiping his face and straightening like he wants to forget the whole thing. Some things never change. “You,” Fox begins, and his voice breaks. “You said something about cards?”
They wind up on the floor, just to have enough room for seven grown men to play Sabacc. Fox leans up against Vos, and Cody’s very aware of Obi-Wan sitting beside him. Wolffe is still strategically positioned farthest away from Thire, who is still somehow dead asleep.
Around the twenty minute mark, Fox starts nodding off between turns. By thirty minutes, Vos is playing half his turns, but Fox keeps insisting that they keep going.
“Maybe we should start betting on how much longer you’ll stay awake,” Bly teases, and Fox flips him off from where he’s laying back against Vos’ chest. His base layer has slid up with the movement, revealing neat white bandages covering his torso. Cody and Wolffe share a glance, but say nothing. Whatever’s going on with Fox, with the Corries, is better dealt with when all parties are awake and sober.
“They’re good for each other,” Obi-Wan murmurs to him as Quinlan gently extricates the cards from Fox’s limp hands and plays another round.
“Yeah.” Cody’s voice is rough and low - he wants that easy affection, to a dangerous degree. He can feel Obi-Wan next to him like a bonfire, charging the careful space between them with everything they’ve left unsaid.
“It’s nice,” Obi-Wan says, voice dropping even lower. Then, he puts his arm up on the bed behind them, positioned just so that if Cody leaned in… Obi-Wan’s arm drops down onto his shoulders and he does his best not to make any embarrassing noises.
Cody loses the round, too distracted by the warm weight of Obi-Wan’s arm and the frankly concerning way Fox is starting to jerk awake with his hand halfway to a salute. Fox loses, too. Or, rather, Quinlan loses for Fox, and when Wolffe’s done gloating about coming close to beating Obi-Wan, Quinlan gathers Fox up in his arms and stands.
“I think we’re going to call it a night,” he says, setting Fox gently back on his bed. Fox doesn’t so much as twitch as he’s tucked in.
“Same time tomorrow?” Cody offers, and gets his first real smile out of Quinlan Vos.
“Yeah,” Quinlan says, brushing a strand of hair off Fox’s forehead. “Same time tomorrow.”