Work Text:
The droids came around the corner—far too many for just the two of you to handle. Blaster fire echoed down the corridor, the sharp, repetitive bursts ringing in your ears.
“Dank Farrik,” Crosshair muttered, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a dark alcove just before the droids saw you.
You stumbled slightly as he pressed your back against the wall, positioning you behind him like a living shield. His body was taut with tension, his rifle held steady in one hand as his other reached out to steady you. The dark color of his armor blended seamlessly with the shadows, while your grey Jedi robes threatened to stand out like a beacon.
“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly through the modulator of his helmet.
You obeyed without question, your breath catching as he turned and used his body to shield yours. The alcove was tight, forcing you so close that you could feel the solid, unyielding weight of him pressed against you. His gloved hands braced against the wall on either side of your shoulders, caging you in. His helmet dipped lower, his head close to yours, his visor turned toward the corridor.
Focus. Breathe. Calm. You repeated the mantra in your mind, desperate to regain control over the erratic rhythm of your heart. But it wasn’t the droids making your pulse quicken—it was him. The warmth of his body, the way his scent—blaster residue and something faintly metallic—seeped through the narrow space between you, filling your senses.
The sound of the droids’ footsteps began to fade, the clatter of their servos growing fainter until there was silence. You felt him shift slightly, his hands tightening momentarily before easing away from the wall. He didn’t move far, though. Your faces were still inches apart.
“General?” His voice, though filtered through the helmet, was softer now, more questioning.
You snapped back to reality, your lips parting to speak, though your voice betrayed your composure. “Y-Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”
He didn’t move. He didn’t even acknowledge your words. Instead, he tilted his helmet slightly, studying you in a way that made your breath catch all over again. You wondered what his face was doing beneath that visor. Was he smirking? Frowning?
“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone laced with something that felt… heavier. Like he was asking about more than just the droids.
“I said I’m fine,” you replied quickly, too quickly. You wanted to sound decisive, authoritative, but your voice cracked slightly at the end. His closeness was unraveling you, and you hated that he could see it—or feel it.
Crosshair tilted his head again, as if weighing his next words carefully. Then, finally: “Your hands are shaking.”
You glanced down and cursed inwardly when you saw he was right. You hadn’t even noticed it, but your fingers were trembling slightly where they rested against your lightsaber hilt.
“It’s nothing,” you said, your voice a touch defensive as you quickly crossed your arms over your chest. “We’ve been under fire for hours. Anyone would be on edge.”
He didn’t respond immediately, and you swore you felt his gaze linger on your face for a second too long. “If you say so, General.”
Before you could respond, or overthink whatever his tone implied, he stepped back slightly, breaking the spell.
“Let’s go,” he said, scanning the corridor one last time. “We’re not out of this yet.”
The proximity was intoxicating, and you knew he could feel the way your chest rose and fell quicker than it should. The Force had always been a reliable guide, a constant presence to steady you in times of war, but right now, it felt distant, quiet—replaced by the pounding of your heart.
“General,” he said again, softer this time, as though testing your resolve. His voice carried that low, deliberate tone you’d come to recognize in him, like he always knew what to say without saying much at all.
You swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s… let’s move.”
But as you tried to shift past him, his hand shot out, gently but firmly pressing you back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his gloved fingers rested just above your elbow.
“Wait,” he murmured, tilting his helmet slightly as if listening for something. His visor turned toward the end of the corridor, scanning for any sign of movement. You should’ve been doing the same—listening, sensing through the Force—but you couldn’t focus. Not with him this close.
When he finally let you go, the absence of his touch felt colder than it should have. He stepped out of the alcove first, his rifle raised and ready. His movements were calculated, silent, and you watched the way his body moved with precision, his broad shoulders a silhouette against the dim lighting.
You took a deep breath to steady yourself, forcing the heat creeping up your neck to subside. You were a Jedi Master, trained to master not only the Force but your emotions. This was a war zone and distractions, no matter how dark and piercing his voice or how close he stood to you, were a liability.
“Clear,” he called back over his shoulder, his voice all business now.
You stepped out behind him, igniting your lightsaber to cast a faint glow on the durasteel walls. “We need to make it to the rendezvous point before—”
“Before we’re overrun, I know.” He smirked beneath his helmet, his tone dry but tinged with that confidence he carried so effortlessly.
You rolled your eyes, even as your lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “And here I thought your sharp tongue was reserved for battle droids.”
“Droids don’t blush.”
Your step faltered for half a second, but you recovered quickly, silently cursing him—and yourself.
“Eyes forward, trooper,” you said, falling into step beside him.
“Yes, General,” he replied, the smirk in his voice unmistakable.
And as the two of you moved deeper into enemy territory, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were fighting the wrong war.
The tension inside the Bad Batch’s ship was a palpable reminder of what they’d just survived. Hunter sat in the cockpit, quietly navigating them back to base, while Wrecker’s booming laugh filled the air as he recounted their mission highlights. Echo nodded along, though his tone was far more reserved as he tinkered with his arm. Tech was already hunched over a datapad, muttering about efficiency rates.
Crosshair sat at the far end of the room, leaned back in his seat with his rifle resting against the wall beside him. To anyone else, he appeared calm—aloof, even. But inside, his thoughts were anything but still.
That alcove.
He replayed the moment over and over in his mind—the way her breath had hitched when he pressed her against the wall, the way her lips had parted ever so slightly when she stammered her response. He hadn’t meant to linger so close, hadn’t meant to focus on the soft curve of her mouth or wonder what it would feel like against his own. But it had been impossible not to.
He gritted his teeth, scowling at the memory. This was dangerous. Reckless. They were already risking their lives for a galaxy that cared little for clones or Jedi. Adding this , whatever it was, to the mix was asking for trouble.
And yet… he couldn’t stop himself. She was strong, sharp, and fearless in battle. But in that moment, pressed so close he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, she’d been human . Vulnerable in a way that made him ache to protect her from everything, including himself.
Crosshair’s fingers tapped restlessly against his knee. He should say something, clear the air. But what could he possibly say? Sorry, General, for getting too close? Sorry for wanting to kiss you in the middle of a battlefield? No. He’d keep his distance. It was better that way. Safer.
Across the room, you sat in silence, meditating on the floor in the back of the Marauder. Your hands resting in your lap as tried to take slow deep breaths, though your mind was far from still.
That alcove.
The heat of his body against yours had been seared into your memory. You could still feel the strength in the way he’d caged you in, his hands on either side of your shoulders, his presence overwhelming yet grounding. And his voice—soft, questioning, laced with something unspoken.
You squeezed your hands into fists, trying to suppress the flutter in your chest. Jedi weren’t supposed to feel this way. Attachments led to weakness, vulnerability. You’d been taught that from the beginning. But the Force had a funny way of testing you; of pulling you toward things or people you weren’t supposed to have.
You risked a glance toward him. He was leaned back, his posture relaxed but his jaw tight. His helmet rested beside him, and the sharp features of his face were unreadable. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you, and that stung more than it should have.
You closed your eyes again, inhaling deeply. Focus. Control. But the memory of his closeness wouldn’t leave you. For years, you’d trusted the Force to guide you, but right now, it felt like it was pushing you straight toward him.
You have to stop this, you told yourself. It’s a distraction. You’re a Jedi. A General. He’s one of your men.
But the truth was undeniable: you wanted him. Needed him, even. You’d felt it in the way your heart had raced when his hand brushed your arm, in the way your mind had whispered his name in quiet moments. You could feel eyes on you and risked opening your own.
Across the room, Crosshair shifted, his sharp eyes flicking toward you for the briefest of moments. When your gazes met, your breath caught. It wasn’t long, barely a second, but it felt like an eternity.
He looked away just as quickly, his expression neutral. But you didn’t miss the way his hand tightened around the strap of his rifle, his knuckles white against the black leather.
In the cockpit, Hunter glanced over his shoulder, his sharp senses picking up on the tension hanging thick in the air. He frowned slightly but said nothing, his instincts telling him this wasn’t the time to interfere.
You shifted uncomfortably on the floor, your mind racing. You couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d pressed close, the way his voice had softened, the way he’d made you feel. It wasn’t just physical. It was deeper, a connection you couldn’t explain, couldn’t sever.
And judging by the way his shoulders were set, the tension radiating from him like heat, he felt it too.
The ship hummed quietly around you as you stood in the dimly lit hull. The others were with the Kaminoans getting their routine check ups for the next hour or more. You were taking this time to take stock of inventory and write your logs. It had been about 20 minutes of silence before the ships door opened. In walked the one person you had been trying to stay away from. Crosshair. You had been avoiding this moment, avoiding him, but Crosshair wasn’t one to let things linger.
You made to move out of his way and walk out of the ship but h e stepped into your path, his tall, lean frame blocking your escape. His helmet was off, revealing his sharp features. His expression was unreadable, but his golden-brown eyes burned with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. You took a few steps back into the ship and watched with a racing heart as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.
The two of you completely alone.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low, firm.
You sighed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if it would somehow protect you from what you knew was coming. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, his tone cutting through your defenses. “Not after what happened back there.”
Your chest tightened, the memory of the alcove rushing back in vivid detail. “Crosshair—”
“Don’t.” He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t push me away. Not this time.”
You felt the walls closing in, your heart pounding in your ears. You tried to summon the calm, steady focus that had always been your strength as a Jedi, but it wouldn’t come.
“Jedi aren’t supposed to form attachments,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Attachments?” His lips curled into a faint, bitter smirk. “Is that what you call it?”
“Yes,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s dangerous. For both of us. If the Council found out, I could be expelled from the Order. And the Kaminoans—” You swallowed hard. “I don’t even want to think about what they’d do to you.”
Crosshair’s expression darkened. “Do you think I give a damn about any of that?”
“Cross—”
“No.” He stepped even closer, and before you could look away, his hand was under your chin, tilting your face toward his. His touch was surprisingly gentle, belying the storm in his eyes. “Look at me.”
Your breath hitched, and you hesitated, but the weight of his gaze pulled you in.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t do feel it,” he said, his voice rough, raw, as though the words had been torn from his very soul.
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. The truth was a heavy, unyielding presence between you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to deny it.
“I… I can’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The tension crackled in the air like a live wire, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat echoing in your own chest.
“Then stop running,” he said, his tone softening but losing none of its urgency. “Stop pretending this doesn’t exist, because you and I both know it does.”
Tears stung your eyes, and you shook your head weakly. “Crosshair, I—this isn’t just about us. It’s about the war, the people we’re trying to protect. If I let this happen…if I let myself fall. How can I lead? How can I keep you safe?”
“You don’t have to protect me,” he said firmly, his hand still cradling your chin. “I’ve spent my whole life fighting battles I didn’t choose. But this? This is my choice. And I choose you.”
The words shattered something inside you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the weight of them. The depth of his devotion, his unwavering belief in what the two of you could be, even in the face of everything.
“Do you know what you’re asking of me?” you said, your voice trembling.
“I’m asking you to let yourself feel,” he replied. “To stop hiding behind rules and orders and admit what’s real.”
He took a step closer to you before softly saying “Don’t push me away.”
His thumb brushed lightly against your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. You felt the Force hum faintly around you, not as a warning but as something almost… encouraging.
“I’m scared,” you admitted, the words barely audible.
“I know,” he said softly. “But I’m not.” His hands moved to either side of your face as he brought you in for a desperate kiss. Your back hit the wall with a groan that was covered by his mouth. One of his hands went to your waist while the other moved to tangle in your hair.
Warmth spread all over your body as he pressed himself closer to you.
A low noise escaping Crosshair’s throat as you gripped his chest plate and pulled him even closer. This was something you had only dreamed about but never let yourself hope you could have.. have him.
The kiss was intense but wonderful all at the same time. And for the first time you could feel the walls you’d so carefully built begin to crumble.
And in that moment, you knew you couldn’t deny it anymore. Whatever this was, this impossible, forbidden connection, it was as undeniable as the Force itself.