Chapter Text
Thorn woke up slowly, his ribs stinging and his hands numb. He was cold and wet and tried to open heavy eyes. He snorted as the stench of trash and smog invaded his senses without his bucket to protect him. His various soon to be identified injuries began to flare up as he turned onto his back.
Fuck.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins as instinct took over, He sat up and immediately fought back a scream as he felt something pinch into something else. Thorn tried to grasp some railing, bloody hand trying to maintain some level of balance as he hauled himself up.
He leaned onto a wall that had clearly seen better days, deep gouges and graffiti decorating durasteel. It was a nice touch, really added to the whole decor of the place.
His armor was missing, at least his upper armor was. His kama was torn and his boots were scuffed to hell.
There was blood drying on his blacks, causing them to become stiff and stick to his skin. It was itchy and miserable and it smells awful. He didn’t know the origin of this blood, but it felt like his...he hoped that it was his.
It was usually bad when it wasn’t.
Limping aimlessly in hopes of seeing something semi familiar to find his way through the damn maze known as this planet.
He took a moment to stop and throw up his lunch and some blood. Slumping on a board he took a moment to gather his bearings.
The world was spinning and he found himself sitting on his ass. He silently thanked the force that he wasn’t in the core of the Coruscanti underworld. Not that it made his situation any less dangerous, but it relieved him that it would be less of a journey and less of a risk of being mauled to death by the local populace.
There was a vibration in his utility belt. He fumbled around and slowly got the pouch open and tried to open the emergency comm that Fox had given out to all of command.
It was for situations like this, and Thorn once again thanked Fox’s forward thinking skills.
“Commander Thorn.” Short, clipped. Fox was so worried and Thorn was so dead.
“This is Thorn,” he replied cheekily.
“Oh thank Fett.” Fox’s voice went staticy as there was a small thunk that was most likely Fox’s head hitting his desk.
“You alright?” Thorn asked the other trooper softly and Fox’s slight laugher came through the comm.
“I should be asking you that,”
“I’m fine Fox’ika,” Thorn assured him, “just need a ride and some bacta.”
“You got your tracker on?” Fox asked.
Thorn fumbled around with his armor, trackers A, B, and C were gone with his upper armor. As were the trackers that were strategically placed on his remaining armor were also missing. He felt a spike of worry before he remembered a crucial piece of information.
“You have me lowjacked don’t you?”
There wasn’t a verbal response for a moment; instead, there was scrambling around as Fox was moving things to the side and opening and closing cabinets in an attempt to look for his encrypted datapads that had their trackers on it. Fox rarely took them out in fear of someone finding them.
There was a bit of stumbling and Thorn remembered that Fox had received a concussion during another Anti-War protest which in reality was just a “fuck the clones protest”
“I’ll be down in thirty...twenty minutes,”
“Thiry-twenty?” Thorn sniggered and Fox groaned and he could see his cyare rolling his eyes.
“Shut the fuck up and don’t move,”
“Sir yes sir,” Thorn smirked.
“Thorn…” Fox’s voice edged with annoyance and Thorn tried to laugh through the agony in his ribs.
“You know you love it,”
“I swear to Fett’s headless corpse,”
“Sure thing Commander .” He licked his lips and could imagine Fox’s brows ticking as that one vein that was always associated with Thorn and his so called “shenanigans” appeared
The comm shut off at that and Thorn chuckled to himself. Oh how he loved getting on his partner’s nerves. It was a gift.
He leaned back, his arm throbbing as he lifted it to slick back his sweaty hair, cringing at the feeling of sticky tar and the gods know what else caused him to drop his hand to the floor.
It was going to take a long time to wash and re-dye his hair. And he didn’t have the time and that caused his head to hurt. Another thing he’d have to find a way to squeeze in his forever cramped schedule.
His hand flopped to the floor and he slumped to the side, curling around his sore ribs.
Something moved.
Osik something moved.
Thorn’s hands reacted before his mind caught up and he held up a small switchblade he kept underneath his kama.
The fact that there weren’t pocket sized Z-6’s should be criminal. The damage he could do with that would be tremondus and glorious.
But alas, he was stuck with a knife. Oh how Prime is rolling in his shallow grave.
Don’t bring a knife to a gun fight, run the other way or march on, he says.
Well then di’kut, what if you can’t run, check and mate.
Oh how he enjoyed these little talks. If only Prime was alive to argue these points. Granted, if Prime was alive Thorn would’ve been in a long line to talk with him starting with the Alphas and ending with the newest batch of CT’s.
He felt a light slap on the back of his head as he heard another bang. Something fell to his left and he flinched and curled in on himself.
Please be Fox, please be Fox, please be Fo-
A large shadow blotted out the scratches and stains on the walls. There was a slight scratching that got closer and closer as the shadow got smaller.
A russet blur appeared in Thorn’s field of vision.
No karking way.
A small tooka made eye-contact with Thorn and jumped onto a crate. It hissed loudly, red and white fur fluffing up as its tail lashed.
Thorn lowered his blade, releasing tension that built up painfully in his already sore muscles. He put his hands down, rubbing against the thick leather of his kama.
“It’s okay little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,”
The tooka bared its teeth, tail fluffing up and hissing got louder. Thorn winced as he moved back slightly and moved his hands so his palms were turned up.
Slowly, very slowly, the tooka slunk towards him. As it padded into the dim light, Thorn was able to see dappled pale cream spots and dark streaks on dark red fur.
“You look like a little fox,” the tooka nosed between his bloody fingers and Thorn smiled, “you act like him as well.”
The tooka hopped into his lap, purring lightly as Thorn’s fingers chased coarse fur. Small claws tapped his armor as the small tooka attempted to make itself comfortable on no doubt uncomfortable plastoid.
Thorn smiled and shifted his legs so the tooka had a flatter surface to rest on. It thanked him via flicking its tail in his face, causing him to sneeze. Thus leading to his ribs and insides reminding him that they were very much injured at the moment.
The tooka looked concerned, nosing at his ribs and pawing at his blacks, giving him a look when Thorn moved again as if to say stop moving.
“Oh you definitely act like Fox,” Thorn chuckled to himself.
Could tookas roll their eyes, because it sure felt like this one was at him. There was only one man who could look that exasperated with no words and Thorn decided to honor that.
He hummed and scratched its ear before remarking, “what if I call you...Fox?”
“What if you didn’t.”
Thorn looked up and the familiar “look at me I gargled marbles for an hour and now sound like I’ve been smoking for 60 years longer than I’ve been alive” rasp that made Fox’s voice that much sexier in Thorn’s opinion.
“Too late I’ve named it and Fox loves it.” Thorn said, smiling, “ no take-backsies!”
“Yes take-backsies,” Fox argued.
“No, we’re keeping him forever,”
“Thorn…”
“Fox,” he said seriously, and both the Commander and the tooka looked at him, “see, he already responds to it, this is a sign from Fett beyond the grave that he is your replacement, sent to us by the force to teach you the power of a decent sleeping schedule and responsible stim intake.”
Fox rolled his eyes so hard Thorn was concerned he ascended into an alternate dimension for a second.
The tooka also seemed to express similar concern, flattening its ears and giving a small mew.
Fox finally sighed and kneeled next to Thorn, taking out a few bacta patches and grabbing Thorn’s chin.
“You need to shave,”
“You’ve informed me,”
“And yet you still haven’t done it,”
“I think you’re just jealous of my amazing facial hair,”
“General Kenobi is writhing I’m sure,”
“Better call Cody,”
“I’m sure he’d love that conversation,”
The tooka seemed to take offence at the lack of attention, jumping up to Thorn’s shoulder.
Fox seemed to relent, gloved hands going to scratch the tooka’s ears as it purred, he huffed and remarked, “This is very illegal I hope you know that Thorn.”
“What happened to ‘fuck everything and everyone, let’s get funky’?”
“I was drunk and therefore it doesn’t count,”
Thorn gave a sarcastic hum as Fox moved to his other side and pulled up his shirt.
“Woah there, not in public Fox’ika.” Thorn pushed him away jokingly as Fox slapped his thigh.
“Since when has being in public stopped us.” he murmured and Thorn never regretted laughter more.
Fox put a hand on his shoulder as he coughed weakly, helping him move to the side in case he threw up again. Fox grabbed a binding and pulled off his shirt, wrapping his ribs up tight.
“If you die I’m giving the tooka to Hound,”
“ No ,” Thorn instantly tried to perk up and not wince, “I’m fine, no need to give Fox to Hound please.”
Fox gave an amused hum as he helped Thorn back into his shirt and Thorn leaned into him. The tooka made a sound that sounded like an annoyed sigh and nudged his cheek, tail flicking across his nose and jumping onto his trooper counterpart’s shoulder, staring Thorn down with a cocked head.
Fox’s arm hooked underneath his, wrapping around his still tender ribs and hoisting him up.
“Shitshitshit.” Thorn groaned, waves of pain causing him to stumble into Fox, only experience of carrying injured troopers up rooftops caused him to remain standing firm, not even the tooka was jostled from its perch.
Thorn laughed weakly and limped next to Fox, who’s hand slipped lower and lower until he found himself being hooked by the underside of his thighs, moved to a bridal position in Fox’s arms.
“That was hot,” he finally panted, trying to recover from his jilted ribs.
Fox’s bucket tilted down, but otherwise didn’t say anything. The tooka gave him the most disappointed, annoyed glare that caused Thorn to cringe.
Definitely deserves the namesake of his glare-predecessor.
Fox seemed to see the tooka’s righteous glare, or sense it. Thorn sure felt the scorching intensity of it, and he didn’t doubt that Fox couldn’t feel it as well.
Fox maneuvered Thorn to be on the inner part of the lift. The tooka hopped off and stood on the control panel, watching attentively as Fox pressed a few of the buttons.
Thorn loved the way that they sounded. Very clicky.
He grabbed Fox’s hand, squeezing it slightly and felt the sweat through the thick fabric of their blacks. Supposed to be insulating, which would’ve been fine if this planet didn’t feel like an urban version of mustafar.
He smiled softly and his eyes met the blank visor of Fox’s bucket.
“Jate?”
“I should be asking you that,” Fox repeated his earlier words, but his slightly slumped shoulders as he moved to sit by Thorn said it all.
“Fine, I am,” he joked softly and smiled as Fox’s posture loosened.
Thorn’s hands went to the clasps of Fox’s bucket, trying to get them open before Fox’s hands batted his away. He removed his bucket, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead.
“That’s disgusting,” Thorn wrinkled his nose and the tooka seemed to agree.
“You can hardly talk right now,” Fox argued, expression not changing, “what is that in your hair, dirt or shit?”
“I’m choosing option C of: I’m not going to think about that,”
“Understandable,”
There was a calm silence as the three sat in wait. Thorn leaned on the other. He squeezed Fox’s hand again and Fox squeezed back harder, assuring himself that Thorn was in fact, sitting next to him and not lost somewhere where Fox couldn't get to him.
The tooka, seemingly already knowing what to do with the two of them, slid off Fox's face and into Thorn's lap. Thorn's lips pressed into Fox's, and Thorn snorted into Fox's mouth. Both were petting the tooka as they separated and leaned into a Keldabe Kiss.
“I suppose we'll keep him,” Fox signed, scratching the tooka’s ears as it purred, "you both need a bath though."
Thorn groaned, relieved at the thought of showering and silently grieving at the thought of bathing a feral tooka.
“Oh shit,”
“You think ,” Fox growled.
They looked down at the chancellor’s body. His skin was chalky and translucent while the skin near bloodshot eyes was red and swollen, matching the skin around his nose and lips, making them look puffy and irritated.
Crisp robes were pristine as Palpatine’s office, his desk of shiny obsidian that reflected their faces when they looked into it. Dim white lights always worsened the atmosphere, causing their hair to stand on end.
Thorn’s breathing was so loud he was surprised it didn’t summon the Coruscant Security Force.
“I suppose this is the part where we turn around and walk away?” Thorn asked, considering the window. Because holy kark they are going to kriffing die and Thire and Stone are going to deal with those bastard Senators on their own and gods, they're going to decommission Fox because of him-
“Yes,” Fox answered, breaking Thorn from his thoughts, putting a hand on his shoulder. Thorn moved into the hand, appreciating the rare contact that Fox initiated, and not the other way around, "how do you feel about a defacto mission to Tatooine that we were assigned on yesterday?"
And with that, they turned and hurried out, the Tooka following them. Both silently agreeing they were never here, Fox calling in some favors from a few shadier contacts to scrub the footage, change the records, and a ship to Tatooine.
How were they supposed to know the Chancellor had a Tooka allergy?