Chapter Text
It was like any other evening in the Senate District. Fox had spent the past six standard hours dutifully following Supreme Chancellor Palpatine around the Senate building like a stray tooka, while the Chancellor held various meetings and conferences. It was hardly an effective use of his skills, but he tried to find pride in the Chancellor seeking him personally for his protection. He couldn’t help but yearn for the days of the Senate Guard overseeing this type of task, but they were few and far between now. A quick glance at the clock in the Chancellor’s office said it was 2100.
Thire returned to Coruscant today after a diplomatic escort mission.
Fox had the pleasure of promoting him to Commander earlier in the month, but they had not yet had the chance to celebrate as he’d been immediately dragged into one last escort mission by Senator Zinn Paulness. It was the fourth specific request Senator Paulness had made for Thire in the past six standard months.
If he were asked if he had promoted Thire to Commander simply to separate him from the diplomatic services branch, he would say no. He’d say Thire earned his promotion, which he had.
But Fox had seen how Senator Paulness watched Thire hungrily with his small, watery eyes, sharing more characteristics with a rodent on the lower levels than a human male, and fast-tracked his decision. Thire had never reported Senator Paulness for inappropriate behaviour, officially or unofficially, but Fox had determined that if something hadn’t already happened, it would soon. He tried not to think too much about the poor trooper who would replace him in the branch.
The four CCs, including himself, Stone, Thorn and now Thire, planned to celebrate the promotion tonight. It had taken weeks of schedule wrangling to accommodate all of them having a few hours off at the same time, but Thorn was excellent at spreadsheets and had meticulously planned the past few shifts to organise the evening. Unfortunately, it meant that Lieutenants Jek and Rys would be the highest ranked shock troopers on duty for a four-hour period. He had enjoyed putting the fear of the gods into the two idiots the night before, and was almost certain the city wouldn’t burn to the ground in his absence.
But weeks of planning meant nothing when the Chancellor had decided on a whim to piss away the evening by drinking with Mas Amedda, his Vice Chair.
The CCs available time together had dwindled down to three and a half hours.
Fox did not like Mas Amedda. He reeked of pretend political charisma and enjoyed demanding too much of the Coruscant Guard. Right now, he simply reeked of booze. At some point, Senator Clovis had been in the meeting room with them and a pretence of diplomacy had been present. But Senator Clovis had left an hour ago.
The clock ticked over to 2110. Fox did not check his comms. He did not fidget. He remained ramrod straight in the corner of the meeting room, an eye on all angles for possible threats. The Chancellor might not take him seriously, but Fox took his job seriously. The Chancellor and Amedda were leaned over matching glasses of Corellian whiskey, a half-empty bottle between them on the white meeting table.
“I say, I hope you haven’t been passing this on to Senator Orn Free Tar. I’m not sure I can stand him bothering me again about the bank’s support of Ryloth so soon.”
“Of course not, Chancellor. Perhaps another feast would keep him placated for now.”
“A great idea,” the Chancellor replied, his tone pleasant. There was an extended silence, and for the first time in an hour, the Chancellor looked up at him with a smile. Behind the deceivingly amiable stretch of aged skin, his eyes were black and cold. “Commander. I’m sorry, I forgot you were still here. Please forgive us.”
Fox did not believe that for a second. The Chancellor was as deliberate as he was intelligent, Fox was certain he’d never forgotten anything in his life. He didn’t know why he bothered with such a show when Fox had seen so much of him these past two years. For some reason, he had wanted Fox to witness their piss up.
The Chancellor continued, “I assume a member of the Coruscant Guard is situated outside the door?”
“Yes sir, shock trooper Stock is standing guard,” Fox replied formally.
“Then I relieve you of your duties Commander,” the Chancellor smiled warmly at him. It did not make Fox feel warm. “There are some private matters the Vice Chair and I need to discuss.”
He did not argue the safety of the circumstances. The Chancellor had waved his hand in dismissal, so he was dismissed. Stock should have been the trooper situated inside the room for the past hour anyway, but he’d been given no opportunity to take his leave. With a respectful nod to them both, Fox exited the room, the door sliding shut behind him. There was a shuffle beside him as Stock stood to attention immediately.
“At ease,” Fox muttered. Stock had been a shinie off Kamino barely a month ago, and Fox ignored the way the young trooper's hands still trembled around his blaster in the presence of a superior. “The Chancellor has requested a private meeting with the Vice Chair. He will notify you when it’s appropriate to re-enter.”
“Yes sir,” Stock said. He sounded so young. It was hard not to pity him, entering the snake pit with the war in full swing. Fox wondered how quickly Stock would wish to be deployed to the frontlines and be shot at by droids, if he hadn’t already.
He sighed, “I’m off duty now. Keep in communication with the boys in the building to keep the rotation up, I don’t want to hear you’ve been stuck with the Chancellor for twelve straight standard hours. Got it?”
“Yes sir,” Stock repeated, offering a salute as Fox moved away from the door. Fox returned the gesture and walked with purpose through the Senate building.
The corridors were dimly lit, reflecting the late hour, the sound of his footsteps muffled as he walked on the thick, lavish carpets. Some Senators were still in their offices, either catching up on paperwork or cheating on their significant others, but the only people Fox passed in the hallways were other brothers. He nodded to each of them and eventually reached the exit. The cool Coruscant air greeted him, filtering through his bucket as he walked to the transport zone. Thankfully, the CG speeders had not been tampered with this evening, and he hurried back to the barracks at speed.
It was 2130 when he stepped inside the barracks and removed his bucket, absolutely bone-tired. The plain communal area at the entrance was empty aside from two other shock troopers standing together.
Stone saw him first, “You’re earlier than expected.”
Fox ignored him and made his way to Thire, clicking their vambraces together. He liked Thire a lot, almost as much as he liked Thorn.
Thire smiled at him, the sincerity of the expression a welcome sight after spending hours with the Chancellor, “It’s not a joke sir, we were expecting you later. I can’t believe we all get to spend a whole three hours together.”
“Don’t be calling me sir, Commander,” Fox said with a quirk of his lips. “Where’s Thorn?”
“Drinking,” Stone replied. “Or sourcing drinks, I can’t remember.”
“Are we drinking on the rooftop again?” Fox asked, sitting down on a bench to rest his aching feet. It was hard to remember the last time he’d sat down on something comfortable. Or slept. Maybe thirty standard hours ago? Thire and Stone did not look much better than he felt, both still dressed in their armour aside from their buckets, their posture slightly sagged.
“No. Thire here wants to ruin our evening and go to 79’s.”
Fox stared at Thire, appalled, “You’re fucking joking.”
Thire just shrugged, “I like it there, I like seeing brothers from different Legions. My batchmate from the 501st will be there tonight.”
“The 501st are here? Fucking Torrent?” Stone groaned when Thire nodded happily. One thing Fox liked about Thire is he was immune to Stone’s moods, immune to his moods—there was not much that could shake him. “Who’s your batchmate, anyway?”
“Denal.”
“Never heard of him.”
“I don’t suppose he’s a Commander, then,” Fox said blandly, stretching out his legs. Stone laughed at that and Thire tried to not look pleased. “Invite him out with us, Thire. It doesn’t have to be at 79’s.”
“It’s not so bad there, sir.”
It very much was, actually. Aside from the Republic Central Detention Centre, there was not a place on Coruscant Fox hated more than 79’s. The Coruscant Guard were not respected by frontline troopers, and it seemed as every month of the war went by, the chasm grew larger. He had grown to accept it, but the unfriendly reminder reared its ugly head whenever there’d been a trip to 79’s.
The combination of booze and the abrupt adrenaline change of downtime made frontliners antsy and brave. Fox had started sending CorSec down to address disturbances at the bar after poor Livewire got glassed a few months ago during an attempted arrest of Comet, a member of the Wolfpack. That General Plo Koon had made an in person apology to the CG did not matter when Livewire had a deep scar down his left cheek. Fox had not spoken to Wolffe since. CorSec handled 79’s business now, and when the CG wanted to let off some steam, they went elsewhere.
But Thire was stubborn, “I’d really like to go there. It would mean a lot to me if you guys were—”
“Oh, shut up,” Stone snorted, but Fox could see Thire had won. “I want you to know I’m prejudiced against your batchmate already. Nothing personal, but I hate anyone from Torrent on principle.”
“Why?”
“Hate the colour blue. And that prick, Captain Rex.”
Rex had taken Stone to the cleaners in a game of sabacc nearly a year ago, but he did not know that Fox knew. Cody had told him about it in one of their dwindling catch ups a few months ago, he’d said that Rex was still spending the credits he’d won that night.
The barracks doors slid open and Thorn entered, a bag clinking in each hand. His face lit up when he spotted Fox.
“Fox! You’re back earlier than I’d thought, sorry to keep you all waiting. I have…” he fished around in the bags, holding up each bottle. “Jet juice, Corellian whiskey and regular old emerald wine.”
“I’ll take them to my office for next time, Thorn,” Fox sighed, rising from the bench. “The Commander has sentenced us to a trip to 79’s.”
Thorn gaped at him, “You’re joking.”
Thire looked very pleased, “Okay, it’s 2340, let’s get out of here.”
Fox took the bags from Thorn and stalked down the corridors in the direction of his office. As he entered his code and the door slid open, he couldn’t help but wince at the disarray. It was as if someone had set off a bomb right on his desk—flimsy were everywhere, old mugs of caf scattered around gathering dust, multiple datapads either strewn across the desk or the tiny couch. It had been a few days since he’d set foot in his office, and he’d forgotten how bad it had gotten. Thank fuck he hadn’t gotten Thorn to bring the drinks here himself, or he’d never have heard the end of it. The cleanest his office had ever been was 3 months ago when Thorn had refused to leave until he disinfected the entire place. Fox didn’t have the heart to tell him it was worse than ever. He hid the drinks in a drawer and placed his bucket on the desk, adding to the mess.
Once he returned, the four of them gathered in a speeder and headed in the direction of 79’s. The cool Coruscant air was soothing on his face, and he closed his eyes to let it wash over him and whip through his curly hair. A nudge to his shoulder brought him back.
“Will you still find me pretty if I get glassed tonight?” Thorn asked cheekily. Fox scoffed and looked away, watching the flurry of speeders and lights travel through the nighttime. “How was your shift?”
He shrugged, “As normal. You?”
“Much the same as well, dragged in like three Duros’ to the Detention Centre today. Not sure how that happened, maybe there was a family reunion or something. I’d only arrested one in the past month before today.”
Thorn seemed a bit more amped than usual, thrumming his fingers on his plastoid cuisses, and Fox peered closer at him, “You taken a stim today?”
Thorn winced, “Two.”
Fox sent him a hard look, opening his mouth to begin a lecture.
“I know,” Thorn interrupted. “But I haven’t slept in thirty eight hours, and I wasn’t going to miss tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.”
“You shouldn’t be drinking then,” Fox warned, but he knew it was falling on deaf ears. Thorn loved to drink.
Any argument was washed away by their arrival at 79’s and the introduction of a common enemy—frontliners. If the Coruscant Guard was not respected by frontliners, then as the face of the Coruscant Guard, Fox was despised. In the early days of the war he’d probably enjoyed throwing drunk troopers in the overnight holding cells or drunk-tank a little too much, and the reputation had stuck. He had told himself he did not care he was hated, that he had the respect of his CG brothers, and that was enough. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt that he was made to feel like he didn’t belong in a place created for brothers to feel welcome.
The four of them climbed out of the speeder and Fox straightened his shoulders and raised his chin, refusing to wilt at the reception they were certain to receive. From the outside looking in, the bar looked packed. Packed full of blue, too, many 501st troopers wearing their armour as they gathered around the bar or at booths. Not wanting to offend Thire, Fox hadn’t said aloud that he agreed with Stone—while it was a member of the Wolfpack who had glassed Livewire, the 501st troopers were the ones who always caused the most issues for the CG.
Fox blamed Rex and their lunatic General, but he would never tell Cody that.
“Look at all that fucking blue,” Stone muttered to them as they got closer to the entrance, the rattle of the music growing louder with every step. “Your Denal better be worth it, Thire.”
“He is,” Thire replied, looking unbothered.
Thorn pushed on the door, holding it open for them all to enter. The pulsating boom of the music was quite pleasant; it echoed in his head and chest and helped to release some of the tension that had been gathering in his shoulders during the speeder ride. The troopers by the door stared openly at the four of them, only looking away when Fox glared back, challenging them to say something. They didn’t.
“Lovely spot,” Thorn said mildly, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. It was dimly lit inside the bar, coloured lights from the dancefloor occasionally illuminating the four of them. “Alright, I’ll grab us some drinks, you lot find somewhere for us to sit down.”
“Do you even have any credits left?”
“Not all of us are shit at sabacc, Stone,” Thorn grinned and made his way to the bar, the crowd parting when they caught sight of his red armour.
Stone huffed, “Prick. I’ve just been unlucky lately.”
“Oh, there’s Denal!” Thire hurried in the direction of a booth. Fox and Stone shared a look, wordlessly following the new Commander. Thire stopped at a booth, and Fox couldn’t help raising his eyebrows in surprise. It seemed the unknown Denal was someone worth knowing, as he caught sight of multiple sets of double pauldrons and a familiar shock of short blond hair. A high ranking booth, but not quite as high as four Clone Commanders.
Rex caught his eye and mirrored his surprise.
“The fuck,” he heard Stone mutter behind him.
Thire leaned over the booth table and gripped the hand of a trooper cramped into the corner, who must have been Denal. Denal had short, cropped hair and no facial tattoos. With the distinguishing features and ranks of the troopers around him, he looked quite unremarkable. Fox and Stone moved to stand behind Thire as Denal squeaked out a ‘congratulations’, his eyes wide as he looked at the three of them. Rex nodded at him, and Fox respectfully returned the gesture.
“We’re out celebrating,” Thire explained loudly, easily ignoring the tension in the booth at their arrival. “Thorn managed to create a time when we’d all be off duty. He’s really organised like that.”
There was an awkward silence, and Denal swallowed, “We’re celebrating too. Jesse here has just made ARC trooper.”
Denal gestured towards the trooper with a decidedly too large tattoo of the Republic crest across his face, his navy double pauldrons looking clean and new.
Thire wasted no time, “Oh, congratulations Jesse. It’s nice to meet you, my name’s Thire. Or, Commander Thire now, I suppose.”
He held out his hand, a pleasant smile stretched across his face. Jesse blinked up at him, taken aback. Fox had to press his lips together to stop the twitch of his lips. Thire was very friendly by nature, but that’s not what this was. He’d spent far too long in the diplomatic services branch and being leered at by creepy Senators, he was starting to act like a politician. The polis would do the same thing, use words and gestures to get the upper hand. Thire was forcing Jesse to shake his hand and acknowledge his new rank, to acknowledge he was outranked.
And he did.
Jesse reached out and shook Thire’s hand with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Congratulations, Commander.”
“Thank you,” Thire replied simply, removing his hand.
Thorn appeared behind them with a tray of drinks. There was a wobble to the liquid inside the glasses, and Fox knew it was from the stims causing Thorn’s hands to shake.
“Hey, Rex,” Thorn said, unaware of the tension that was building. “Nice to see you.”
“Thorn,” Rex acknowledged.
“Which one of you is Denal?” Thorn asked, and poor Denal looked terribly nervous as he raised his hand. “You can come join us if you’d like, I’ve got a drink here for you.”
Fox wasn’t proud that he felt a sick sense of pleasure at the way Denal apprehensively looked between him, Stone and Thorn.
“Uh… maybe later.”
Thorn shrugged, “Suit yourself.” He continued his way to a spare booth, and Fox supposed that meant the fun was over. The decision to promote Thire had clearly been a masterstroke. As he turned to leave and make his way through the bustle of troopers, a voice from the booth called him back.
“Since you’re celebrating, do you promise you won’t arrest me again tonight, Commander?”
There were three CCs at the booth now, but Fox knew it was him who was being addressed. The scorn of the ‘Commander’ was evidence enough. He made eye contact with the offending trooper. An ARC. His eyes drifted to the tattoo of a ‘5’ on his temple. Fives. Fox had heard of him. Cody had told him bits and pieces about Umbara, that he was a hero. He didn’t remember arresting him, but that certainly didn’t mean he hadn’t done so.
Hero or not, there was nothing to be gained by engaging with a drunk ARC trooper. Not when they were here for Thire. He let his impassive stare linger for a moment longer before turning and walking after Thorn. Stone let out a huff of amusement as he joined him. Fox heard Thire say he’d come and join Denal’s booth later, and he couldn’t help but smile—they weren’t sharp enough to handle Thire.
Fox slid into the booth, Thire sitting down beside him and Stone opposite them beside Thorn. Stone was grinning from ear to ear.
“You know what, I wouldn’t mind coming here again if I’d get to watch Thire swing his huge cock at ARCs. That was quality work.”
Thire looked very pleased with himself, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I always miss the best shit,” Thorn despaired, ignoring the look Fox sent him as he downed his first shot. “Nervous little fella, your batchmate.”
There was a diverse array of drinks on the tray Thorn had placed in the middle of the table. Four, now three, shots of what Fox assumed to be jet juice, and other glasses of varying colours and sizes. Stone had a point, Thorn was spending a lot of credits on alcohol. Frontliners were provided credits when they had downtime on Corsuscant, but the CG were on Coruscant all the time and frequently needed credits for transport or work, and as such were paid something of an allowance. Thorn needed to be careful how he was spending it, they were only given very little and he’d have nothing left soon enough.
“Denal’s always been the nervous sort,” Thire said as he reached for a purple drink. “But he’s very brave. You guys would like him.”
“Not as much as we like you, I’m sure,” Stone said fondly.
Already the centre of attention, Fox turned to Thire, “How was your final diplomatic mission?”
There was a beat of silence as Thire did not respond. Fox felt a cold sense of dread settle on his shoulders, he should have gotten him out of there sooner. He grabbed a shot and downed it straight away, letting it coil and burn down his throat. Stone did the same.
“Do I have to say anything more than I’m glad it’s over?”
“Yes,” Fox replied selfishly at the same time Thorn said ‘No’.
Thire put his purple drink aside and reached for the last shot. “I’m okay,” he said and downed it, coughing into his hand as he placed the empty glass back on the tray. None of them laughed at him. “Can we not do this right now, I want to have fun with my brothers.”
“In a moment,” Fox said. He looked at Thorn, who looked back at him with sad eyes. “Do you need to see Split?”
“Already seen him,” Thire muttered, sinking lower in the booth. Thorn and Stone stayed silent.
Sorry Thire, just a bit longer, “Will you be making a report?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
And that was it. Senator Paulness would get away with it, and Fox would have to assign the next trooper to his next sham diplomatic escort mission. The cogs kept turning, the system kept running, and Fox, the most powerful clone on Coruscant, was powerless to stop it.
An eerie silence settled over their booth, a startling contrast to the loud thump of the music and yelling of brothers in the periphery. Fox and Thorn had been close since Kamino, they had been in the CC program together and knew each other almost too well. They both liked Stone, who liked them enough back. But they all loved Thire. If Fox hadn’t grown and trained with Thorn, he was certain Thire would be his favourite.
Thire took a breath, “Let’s talk about something else. Please.”
“Can we beat up that ARC that’s pissing me off?” Stone said after another beat of silence. “The one who insulted Fox?”
Fox rolled his eyes, thankful for the distraction, “He hardly insulted me, Stone.”
“Did I miss this too?” Thorn said, keeping his tone light. But his eyes were still sad as he gulped down more of his drink.
“It was in the tone, Fox. You heard it. They can’t talk to you like that, especially after Thire reminded them how small their cocks are. And that Jesse with aiwha shit smeared across his face, looks like they’re making anyone ARC troopers these days.”
“You mean the Republic crest?” Fox said flatly, and Thire laughed.
Stone brightened at the response from their friend and continued playing along, “Poorly drawn, he should take it up with their tattooist. See if it can be fixed. I think it reflects badly on Rex that his team is a bunch of dickheads,” he paused. “Except Denal, who seems nice.”
Thire laughed again, and the unease in the booth dissipated.
Thorn finished his drink and placed the glass next to his empty shot glass, “Who’s getting the next round?”
“Fucking calm down, will you,” Stone said. “Some of us have duty after this.”
“I don’t,” Thorn smiled.
Unhappy with his smugness, Fox turned to Thire, “He’s taken two stims.”
“Thorn.”
Thire hated stims, disagreed with their common use in the CG and believed they encouraged them to work too often beyond their limits. He was right, of course. Fox took them every now and then when he’d been on an extra-long duty and was required to be at his absolute best for a short burst at the end. Thorn always took longer duties and as a result, took more stims. But two in thirty eight hours was a lot, even for him.
“You’ll shit yourself if you drink too much tonight,” Stone said with glee, finishing his own glass.
Thorn looked at Fox in betrayal, “Maybe I might go sit over there with the ARCs, bet they know how to have a good time.”
Fox shrugged, “Be my guest. I’ll get the next round,” he looked at Stone. “You want another shot? Or just the wine.”
Stone looked at the time on his comm, “Yeah I can do one more shot I reckon, then I’ll just stick to the wines.”
Rising from the booth, Fox downed the rest of his drink and placed the empty glass with others as he lifted the tray. The waiting droids would normally pick up the empty glasses, but the place was packed and it was unlikely they'd get to their table before Fox returned with a new tray. No one pushed Thire to finish the rest of his drink, and Fox slipped past him and out the booth.
He could feel the eyes from Rex's booth watching him as he passed, but he did not spare them a glance.
With the placement of the dancefloor so close to the bar, the music almost reached an unbearable level by the time he got to the counter. Thankfully, no one wanted to be in his way, so his time in line was shorter than most.
There were females of different species gathered near the bar or dancing with troopers. Fox knew they were the sort to approach if eye contact was made, and were intuitive enough to stay back if ignored. A Company newly on downtime was their best opportunity for some action, and he wondered how many were expecting credits in exchange for sex. But he wasn't on duty, so he didn't look too closely.
As he handed the credits to the droid at the bar, he swept his fingers back through his curls, pulling them through a stubborn knot that had gathered at the ends.
Fox had always been jealous of Thire’s hair. It was a similar length to his own, a couple inches over regulation, but not nearly so thick and unruly. There were times when he felt like his hair was an apt reflection of his life and work in the GAR, much like his office was. A complete mess that only seemed to get worse the more he tried to control it. It was only stubbornness that kept him from shaving his hair to the scalp like Stone.
The bartending droid returned with his tray of drinks. There was another shot for each of them, plus a wine for Stone and a glass of star vine for himself and the others.
As he made his way back to the others, carefully balancing the tray as he weaved through the crowd, he saw the two ARCs from Rex's booth were watching him. Jesse was a bit more discreet, but Fives looked openly looking at him, eyebrows mockingly raised. Gods, he fucking hated ARCs. Their heads inflated the moment those pauldrons were nailed to their armour.
“Commander,” Fives murmured, as he passed the booth, only just audible over the loud music.
Fox ignored him. With his excellent hearing, he heard Rex say ‘stop antagonising them’ as he rounded on the CG booth. Thorn’s eyes lit up when he saw him.
He reached for the shot glass before Fox could place the tray on the table, “We were just saying it's not such a bad crowd tonight. I think this is the longest I've been here without some idiot picking a fight.”
“It's because their CO is here,” Fox replied, shuffling past Thire. “Watch how they change when Rex leaves.”
Thorn downed his shot, “Yeah true, better make sure we leave before he does then.”
“I'm not leaving until I get my full three hours with you guys,” Thire huffed, still halfway through his first glass.
“Only…” Stone checked his comm. “Two hours left now. But don't worry Thire, I'll leave you in the scintillating company of the two most fun brothers in the CG.”
“I'm fun,” Thorn said, offended by the sarcasm.
Stone snorted, “You'll be comatose any minute, the come down from those stims will hit you like a fucking hovertrain and you’ll make it everyone else’s problem. Not fun.”
Thorn grumbled into his glass and looked at Fox, “You’re not even gonna bother defending yourself?”
“I’m not as sensitive as you,” Fox shrugged, reaching for a glass. Stone and Thire laughed. And there was no point defending something that was true, he had certainly never been accused of being fun.
“Any word where I’ll be stationed first, sir?” Thire asked him.
“Give him right outside Senator Amidala’s office,” Stone grinned as Thire groaned. “For no reason, of course. I can’t be the only one of us that will ever cop that shift.”
A long time ago now, in the early days of Stone’s promotion to Commander, Fox had assigned him as diplomatic escort for Senator Amidala on a dangerous mission to Mandalore. General Skywalker had kindly volunteered as the jedi protector, and Stone had been excited as he’d heard high praise for the General in battle. It had taken a very long time for Stone to forgive him for that shift. They had all heard their fair share of dalliances between Senators and whoever they invited into their office that day, but Stone had said it had been constant. And it would no doubt continue now with General Skywalker being planetside.
Fox couldn’t help but smile, “I would never do that to Thire.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Stone rolled his eyes.
“You’ll be on the lower levels tomorrow, Thire,” Fox continued, drinking from his glass. He’d finish it first before going for another shot. “I want you to keep CorSec in line. But make sure you wear your leathers under your armour.”
Thire huffed, Fox knew he hated wearing the leathers. It stuck to their skin like glue and smelt like death at the end of a shift. But if he didn’t want some spice rinsed cretin slicing through the gaps between his armour, he’d have to suffer it. Fox would trade a riot control shift in the Senate District for the lower levels any day—the only thing worse than a poor spice addict was a rich one.
Thire rose from the booth a moment later, declaring a trip to the ‘fresher, his glass still half full on the table. They watched him make his way through the crowd and as soon as he was out of earshot, Thorn turned on him.
“Gods, Fox. You need to take a lesson on fucking tact.”
Fox levelled him with a glare, “And what would you have done, Commander?”
“Let him enjoy his blasted evening, for one. You couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to badger him with questions? Like he wants to think about that slimeball right now.”
“It had to be done.”
“It did not.”
There was a beat of silence as Fox leaned forward closer to Thorn, resting his elbows on the table, “It did. I’m responsible for Thire’s safety. Which I failed, clearly. But I’m not going to let hours go by before checking if he's been to see Split.” Not when that’s something I can control.
Thorn sighed and dragged his hands down his face, looking exhausted.
They had all been touched and grabbed by leering Senators or drunk civilians, the regs and their lack of rights preventing them from backhanding the offender across the face, but this was different. This was Thire. And for it to require a visit to the medbay, Fox hated to think of the extent of the assault. The alcohol sloshed around in his stomach like the rolling waves on Kamino, and he felt ill.
Stone had remained silent as they argued. He didn’t tend to get between the two of them, he knew it was not his place, but he had a sharp look in his eye now.
“It’s surely not hard to kill a Senator,” he said. “No one outside the Chancellor has their food and drink checked, I know that for a fact. And that fucking prick is hardly that important for anyone to miss.”
This was what Fox had been trying to avoid, “That’s enough, Stone.”
Stone looked away, Thorn looked down at the empty glasses gathered in front of him, and Fox felt like the worst brother in the galaxy. But he was more than just a brother, he was the lead Commander of the Coruscant Guard. His love for his brothers was secondary to his duty to the Republic.
The three of them settled into an uncomfortable silence as they waited for Thire to return. In the meantime, Fox polished off the rest of his drink and downed the shot. If he couldn’t feel happy tonight, he’d at least like to feel drunk. Thorn smiled with what Fox recognised as false cheer when Thire returned to the booth.
“I think you lot really scared Denal,” Thire said to them as he sat back down. “He just flat out refused to come over here.”
Stone scoffed, “We barely said anything. You’re the one who got their cock out.” Fox watched as Stone’s face froze for a millisecond, immediately regretting the jape with the context of the earlier revelation. But Thire didn’t seem to notice. Or, more likely, chose to ignore it.
“Nah, it’s Fox he’s afraid of,” Thire grinned at him as he rolled his eyes. “You’re fairly intimidating, sir.”
Fox opened his mouth to brush it off, but Thorn cut in, “They’d be less intimidated if they saw the state of his office.”
“No one cares what an office looks like,” Fox argued, but it was a lie. He had seen Cody’s office at the 212th barracks, the flimsy stacked with crisp lines and every folder on the datapads sorted in alphabetical order, and knew his idiot brother cared far too much about how his office appeared.
They settled into a discussion about the worst offenders of mess and disorder at the barracks, and Stone volunteered to get the next round. Fox watched Thire in his peripheral vision, searching for any sign he was less than okay. Other than the slow pace of his drinking, Thire looked relaxed and at ease. Certainly more at ease than the rest of them. All that was apparent was a determination to enjoy himself, and Fox decided that was good enough for now.
It was 0030. Stone had left half an hour earlier to re-establish the order to the CG that had almost certainly diminished under the charge of Jek and Rys. Thire had a gathering of four full glasses around him, taking his time to slowly make his way through them. Thorn was still conscious somehow, but his jaw was slack as he leaned his cheek onto his palm, staring blankly into nothing. In an act of self-described kindness, he had taken a couple of Thire’s drinks off his hands, the combination of the come down from the stims and the lethargic effect of the alcohol turning his brain to mush. Fox thought he was almost dumb enough to make Torrent Company.
Fox was just drunk enough for it to be pleasant. His head and shoulders felt heavy, but not to the extent he needed to hold his face up like Thorn, and he enjoyed the way his skin buzzed beneath his blacks. Each trip to the ‘fresher did have the walls spinning worse than the last, however, so he’d decided to cut himself off before he made a fool of himself.
There were slightly less troopers in the bar now, suspiciously aligned with the reduced number of women. For a moment, Fox watched a trooper dance like an idiot with a twi’lek female and considered letting himself indulge. It had been a while since he’d had sex, and even longer since he’d had sex with a woman. He liked the feeling of their soft skin well enough. There were no other options available, but he decided it was not worth ruining his reputation to pick up a prostitute at 79’s. He was not that desperate.
“Don’t let him die, please,” Fox said to Thire as he rose from the booth for another trip to the ‘fresher, gesturing towards Thorn.
“Yes sir,” Thire replied, sending him a cheeky salute.
Fox made his way towards the ‘fresher, weaving through the crowd and managing not to stumble. As the night went on, crowds no longer parted when they saw his red armour or recognised him as the lead Commander, and he knew it was not due to his presence now being accepted. Rex had left not long before Stone, and the remaining troopers grew rowdier in his absence. They needed to leave soon before one of them got brave enough to do something stupid. And with Thorn out of action, they were a man down.
The ‘fresher was thankfully empty as Fox pushed open the door. He flinched at the brightness of the lights and the way they seemed to swirl across his vision. It had been the right call to cut off the drinks ten minutes earlier, one more shot and the swirls would have made him vomit.
By wearing his armour, he was forced to use a stall to piss rather than the urinal to avoid removing his belt and codpiece around vindictive 501st troopers. Just as he unclipped his belt and leaned it over the dispenser in a stall, he heard a quiet whimper. Fox went still, straining his hearing.
Another whimper. Louder this time.
It took Fox too long to realise it was simply a brother getting his cock wet. He rolled his eyes and finished his business, clipping his belt and codpiece back on as the whimpers were replaced by gasps. It was randy and dirty, but Fox supposed a stall at 79’s was as much privacy as the frontliners would get without going back to a civilian’s home—which was discouraged due to safety reasons but mostly ignored. And civilians were prohibited from the barracks.
Fox opened his stall just as he heard a soft thunk and a broken moan. He reached the sink and turned on the tap, rinsing his hands and glaring at his unruly hair in the mirror. For some stupid reason, he let his eyes drift to the offending stall in the reflection. All stalls had a ten inch gap below the door. It was enough space to see two sets of blue and white boots, one of them rising from their knees.
He blinked in shock.
The frontliners were a strange lot, all the CG knew that. They spent months at a time cramped together with fifty to a bunkroom on cruisers or in tiny tents on campaigns, no civilians in sight and no other options. There was a pent up adrenaline that came with regularly facing death, and it was natural to seek a release from that tension. Sex between clones was against the regs, of course, it had been drilled into them on Kamino and anyone who engaged in it was reconditioned. But they weren’t on Kamino anymore. The Kaminoans had no control over their sexual activity, and the jedi acting as Generals either turned the other way or were simply too far up their own asses to notice.
He had heard rumours of a hand or mouth in the showers after a tough campaign, but that was when the only options were brothers or jedi. The 501st were on Coruscant. It was why Fox had never needed to indulge, Coruscant had infinite options.
There was an expression of revulsion across his face as he caught a look at his reflection. Just as he reached for a disposable towel, the stall door swung open.
It was Fives.
And another trooper from Rex’s booth, who had long wavy hair tied loosely to the back of his head. Fox didn’t care much about him, couldn’t even enjoy the way the unknown trooper's face drained of all colour as he looked at Fox in the reflection with abject horror.
Any shadow of surprise that flickered across Fives’ face was quickly replaced by barely restrained glee. He deliberately wiped a hand across his mouth. Fox’s glare sharpened and he clenched his teeth.
It was clear Fives was testing him. Testing his threshold for embarrassment.
The unknown trooper did not want to be involved, scurrying from the ‘fresher like a lower level rodent. There was a loud blare of music as the door opened and closed behind him.
Fox dried his hands with a disposable towel as Fives leaned against the wall of the stall, crossing his arms as he deliberately looked Fox up and down. An uncomfortable buzz clawed under Fox's skin—the mocking lewdness of Fives’ gaze disgusted him, but he refused to be the first one to look away.
Fives licked his lips, “I could go again, sir.”
Fox exhaled through his nose, his jaw set. He should whack him across the face until his fucking teeth fell out. It was certainly tempting. But Fox was not at his best, and while he was sure he was stronger than an ARC trooper, he wasn't sure Fives was as drunk as he was.
“Or you could give me a hand, bet you've got as good a mouth as your new Commander.”
It was a reference to Thire's silver tongue and disarming tone—Fives couldn't have known about Senator Paulness. But Fox stilled and the spell was broken.
With a hateful glare, he threw the disposable towel into the bin and stalked towards the exit. Fives moved towards him, to do what, he didn't know, and Fox reached out and jabbed a sharp open palm to his throat, catching Fives by surprise.
“Fuck off,” he said as Fives wheezed. He caught a glimpse of Fives' pleased expression, a hand rubbing his throat, before the door closed behind him. The loud thump of the music was less pleasant now, the back of his neck prickling with unease. Fives had succeeded—Fox was embarrassed and uncomfortable.
He walked swiftly in the direction of the booth. Bleary-eyed troopers watched him openly now, their courage bolstered by an unseemly amount of alcohol.
Thire had managed to drag Denal to their booth in his absence, making the correct call not to leave Thorn on his own. No longer upright, Thorn was resting his head on the table, drooling onto the lacquered wood. Denal jumped when he saw Fox, and for Thire's sake, Fox managed to not roll his eyes.
“I'm taking Thorn back to the barracks now,” he said, leaning over the table to jostle Thorn's shoulder. He didn't budge. “A bomb’s about to go off here.”
“You reckon?” Thire frowned, looking around the bar. He didn't know if Thire could see it, but Fox knew he trusted his judgement. And it was far more likely the bomb would be thrown at him, not Thire.
“You can stay if you'd like.”
But Thire was already shaking his head, “Nah, I'll help you with this lump.”
Together, they hauled Thorn out of the booth, hands supporting him underneath each armpit in an attempt to get him to put some weight on his feet. Thorn was not completely unconscious, but was very close to it. If he humiliated them any further by vomiting on the floor at 79’s in front of fucking Torrent, Fox wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive him. To his credit, Thorn tried to walk, but his feet dragged and tripped along the ground, and he was doing more harm than good. Fox made eye contact with Thire and they took on more Thorn’s weight, close to completely lifting him off the ground. They only had to make it to the speeder terminal outside, but Thorn was heavy.
To his frustration, Fives had returned to the booth with the long-haired trooper and Jesse. Unlike the long-haired trooper who stared down at the table as they passed, his ears red, the two ARCs were delighted with their predicament.
“Will you throw him in the overnight drunk-tank?” Jesse smirked. “Or do the same regs not apply to Corries?”
The drunk-tank was for troopers who damaged property or started fights while inebriated on Coruscant, for which Thorn had done neither. But he was starting to sweat under Thorn’s weight, so he said nothing.
“Don’t be silly, Jesse,” Thire smiled pleasantly at the ARC, his tone even despite the heavy burden. “They were full an hour after Torrent landed.”
Fox huffed to hide his smile. He was expecting another snide comment from Fives, but nothing came. As they were nearly clear of the booth, Fox could not help shooting the ARC a quick glance, curiosity getting the better of him. He regretted it immediately. A grin split across Fives’ face at the acknowledgement and he winked at him. Fox looked away and winced.
They hauled Thorn’s dead weight out of 79’s and into a speeder. Other troopers jeered at them as they passed, but Fox didn’t mind so long as they didn’t glass them.
The barracks represented a haven for the CG. A place where only they were permitted to enter and free from the constant drama from Senators and civilians. Aside from the roof of a nearby abandoned construction sight, it was Fox’s favourite place on Coruscant. But even a return to the barracks after a night out served as a constant reminder of their duty, as one hundred paces away was the Republic Centre for Military Operations. He and Thire blearily watched CG shock troopers drag suspects towards the detention facility. Most prisoners were rioters who had been labelled as terrorists or traitors to the state and were to be interrogated, but occasionally a brother was pulled in for a night in the drunk-tank. There was still a pang of guilt that came with bringing brothers into the same building as criminals.
His limbs felt like lead as he and Thire trudged through the barracks towards the bunkroom Thorn and Fox shared. Thorn was definitely unconscious now as they pulled him onto his bunk, his armour knocking against the metal frame.
Thire looked concerned, “Should we comm Split?”
“He’ll be fine,” Fox reassured him. Thorn had done this before. “I’ll handle it from here, you go enjoy your new bunkroom.”
Thire perked up, “All to myself tonight, too. But who knows, I might miss the sound of ten other Lieutenants snoring.”
“Unlikely,” Fox replied, and smiled at him. A real smile—the ones it seemed only Thire could drag out of him these days. “Congratulations again, Commander. Enjoy your new rank, I’ve never been more confident in another trooper’s suitability for a promotion. You’ll do the CG proud.”
Thire beamed at him. The sincerity of the expression made Fox’s heart squeeze and ache. He remembered approving that one last diplomatic escort mission, and hated himself with a burn that scorched his insides.