“He’ll be alright,” General Kenobi assures him, voice staticky with the connection and soft with concern. “He’s just pushed himself a little too hard. Again.”
“Hey,” Quinlan murmurs against Fox’s neck. “‘M very sensible ‘n… careful. Yeah.”
Vos is technically in the copilot’s seat, but over the course of the call, he’s oozed his way into Fox’s space. At this point, he’s not even trying to pretend he’s not cuddling, arms around Fox’s waist and face buried in the crook of his neck. He’s cold.
“Of course, Quinlan,” Kenobi laughs. “How could I forget?”
“Mmm-hmm,” comes the sleepy answer.
“Force exhaustion isn’t terribly uncommon,” Kenobi says to Fox. “He’ll need a few hours to sleep it off, food, water, heat. Nothing too complicated. Honestly, it’s no different than typical exhaustion.”
Fox nods. “Thank you, General.”
Kenobi smiles and it’s soft even through the holo. “No, Commander. Thank you. Quinlan, try not to die while I’m gone.”
Quinlan makes a noise that’s vaguely affirmative. Against Fox’s skin, he mouths something that might be, “Love you.” Fox is pretty sure General Kenobi gets the idea.
“Goodbye, Commander.”
“Goodbye, sir.” Fox switches off the holoprojector and gets an arm under Quinlan’s shoulders. “Come on, cyare. Can’t sleep here.”
Quinlan looks up at him with bleary eyes. There’s a crease on his cheek where it’d pressed against the collar of Fox’s shirt. “Hmm?”
Fox laughs, dropping a kiss on his forehead. He’s still too cold, but better than before. Better than when he was sprawled still and limp on the ramp of the ship, too exhausted to take another step. Better than when Fox had to take off by himself before the next wave of droids could come for them, better than taking off over the wreckage of scores of B2s and setting the ship to autopilot as quick as possible so he could run back and make sure Quinlan wasn’t fucking dead.
“Bedtime, Vos,” he says, scooping Quinlan up bridal style and carrying him through the cockpit to the tiny sleeping quarters. He sets him on the bottom bunk and steps back to tug his shoes and jacket off. The civvies he’s wearing are soft and comfortable, so he doesn’t bother changing back into his blacks before settling down next to Quinlan, tugging the blankets over the both of them.
Quinlan plasters himself to Fox’s side, tucking his face back into the crook of his neck and tangling their legs together. He’s shivering, or maybe shaking, though Fox isn’t sure there’s much of a difference considering the state he’s in. Either way, Fox pulls him closer and settles his chin on top of Quinlan’s head. He slips his hand under Quinlan’s shirt and starts petting long, slow stripes up and down his back.
Quinlan hums, content. “Love you, Foxy.” He yawns and presses a kiss to Fox’s jaw.
“I love you, too. Now, go to sleep.”
“Yessir.”
Fox pokes a finger into the ticklish spot on Quinlan’s ribs. Quinlan bites him. “Hush,” Fox says. “Sleep time.”
“‘Night.”
“Goodnight.”