Chapter Text
"Tech, what's a group of events?"
"A sequence, probably."
"Oh, good."
Scribble, scribble.
Tech looked over at his brother, who sat there quietly, dressed in a frayed old band shirt that was clean for once. He had an old thesaurus laid out beside him.
"Are you doing your Basic homework, Wrecker?"
"Ew, kriff off. 'Romar and Jesli' is the worst effing thing I ever tried to read."
"I hope you didn't hurt yourself," Tech muttered.
Wrecker made a face. "Oh, har-dee-har. That play is proof that love at first sight is a stupid stereotype."
"Trope," Tech answered, blithely.
"Whatever."
More scribbles. He was really making a go at whatever he was creating. Tech looked over at the thin, grubby, bent out of shape exercise book he insisted on writing his journal in.
The hardcover diary the boys had given him for his birthday lay somewhere in the din of his and Crosshair's room. It was probably under his bed. The treats they'd given him were long gone, though true to form he'd insisted on sharing some.
They'd bought the journal from a junk shop for a few credits, but Wrecker had thought it was very pretty. The glittery gold cover caught his eye, but he wanted to buy new clothes. Mainstream department stores didn't sell many flattering things in his size and to his taste.
Wrecker didn't have a great sense of style, but that was beside the point. Tech pushed his glasses up, surveying the likelihood of Wrecker cracking open his gift.
The odds were not good, as he didn't want to 'ruin' the pages with his scrawl. Tech thought it was a shame, since he was a fairly good, if slightly unorthodox, writer. Better than Tech, at any rate.
'Perhaps he gets it from his mother?'
Tech pushed the thought away. It was silly and irrational, and clearly influenced by his family.
Though he and his brothers didn't like to say her name, four of six boys living with Ninety-Nine were direct products of Nala Se and Jango Fett.
Wrecker's surrogate mother hadn't adopted him following their bid for freedom. She had simply... Given birth to him. And then she left him. Once with Nala Se, then for the second time, with Ninety-Nine. How that didn't dent Wrecker's happy nature was anyone's guess.
Tech sniffed, trying to get his bearings on a technically rhetorical question for his brother. Ninety-Nine's outdated kitchen smelled like dust, lemon scented disinfectant and waterlogged counter tops. Quite the opposite of Nala Se's cold, tiled and metallic layout.
"Wrecker, Ninety-Nine told me to ask you what you want for dessert tomorrow. Jin Lime Pie or Koa'Ghoba? Cross and I think we should have-"
"Koa'Ghoba," Wrecker smiled. He wasn't asking, the sheb.
"But I don't want tha-"
"With caf spices."
Tech huffed, out of sorts, "That's too spicy. It's dessert, Wrecker!"
"Well you asked," Wrecker's big hand treated his pencil with care, even if that didn't always translate to his body movements.
Tech would have found it endearing, if his brother hadn't added the addendum, "four square."
Of course he had to laugh at his little joke. It wasn't even his own joke, it was Crosshair's.
Tech huffed. "That's it..."
It was clearly time for their morning tussle.
If it wasn't Wrecker and Crosshair scrapping around the house, it was Cross and Tech, or sometimes Wrecker and Tech. Like today. Despite their size differences, the boys didn't get hurt too much. It was less of a fight and more of a loosing of frustration. The trio often needed it, especially before and after school.
Just as Tech slid his chair back to stand at his full -for now- height, the front door slammed open, and a voice called out.
Tech shrunk back like a cat, eyes darting as he tried to hear what that sound meant. He'd accidentally knocked his hip into the table, but he hardly felt it.
A strong, loud voice called out to the ancestors of the house, and Tech relaxed. It was just his aunt. He looked over at Wrecker who was now trying to tamp down a shy, flushed grin, as Jarin ba'vodu went to find Ninety-Nine in the den.
Her steps were careless and heavy, and given her strong shape and size, she could probably shake the house off its foundations. Jarin'ba's voice became light, and she sang to the walls of their humble abode, which she always remarked, were too bare to be part of a proper home.
Sensing the opportunity to find a stronger ally, Tech slipped out of the kitchen to quietly approach his aunt and their guardian.
He followed Jarin ba'vodu though the hallway, not bothering to hide himself, since she seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, anyway. She swung her head back a little to grin at the boy.
On his way to the den, Tech passed the bathroom. The door opened at just the right moment, and he found himself in the splatter range of Hunter and his bantha hair.
"Eugh, Hunter!"
Tech turned back, wiping an uncomfortable amount of water spray off the back of his head as he did so.
"Hm?"
Hunter shook his hair out again and sprayed his brother. That one was done on purpose. Luckily Tech was able to shuck off his thin hoodie and throw it into the later pile on the bathroom floor.
"What was all that noise?"
"You mean the walls screaming, 'no, Hunter, we don't want to get all mouldy, again. Wrap it up!' That noise?"
Hunter stood there, scrunching his hair dry with a, hopefully clean, shirt, "Oh, shush. You know wrapping my hair in a towel stresses out my scalp."
"You are just inefficient, vod."
Tech moved to continue, but Hunter followed anyway, smiling.
"Is that Jarin'ba' cackling back there?"
"Who else would it be? We don't exactly get visitors."
"Hmph. Well, it's about time she showed up," Hunter muttered. "She's weeks late. Again."
Tech could not agree more, so he didn't bother answering.
"I hope someone tells Crosshair she's here," his brother continued.
"Someone will."
"Someone?"
Two sets of dark eyes, alike in colour, depth and sheen, glared at each other, waiting to see who'd be considerate and warn the sour one holed up in his room.
Despite the boys' misgivings about Jarin ba'vodu, having two Wrecker's in the house for a time was very appealing for most of them. As indicated by the silent war the two brothers were engaged in.
"Rock, Paper, Scissors?" Hunter tried.
Instead of being fair, Tech hip checked Hunter into the wall and ran. Not minding the twinge in his hip and how narrow the space was, Tech had to make deft movements to avoid his brother's grasp.
"Try again, bantha head!"
Tech skipped away to the den, and was content to see Ninety-Nine sitting in his chair, chatting away happily in Mando'a. The old man didn't often get to do that, since he'd chewed out his aliit for allowing Jango to spread DNA all over Kamino without a word against that behaviour.
He did so in his gentle, kind way, but the message left no small mark of shame against the clan. They claimed they never knew, but how could they not?
"Oh, there you are, Tech."
Ninety-Nine still wore his soft pyjamas. His chosen place lay splat in the middle of the den, which was filled with instruments and an assortment of hobbyist paraphernalia. Including Ninety-Nine's adjustable puzzle table, which was placed atop an old desk.
Jarin'ba' sat next to Ninety-Nine, and called out, "Ori'Tech!"
Her bright gaze and beaming face made Tech a feel self conscious. Her face was inexplicably similar to Wrecker's. Round where his was round, and just as suited to making the receiver of its light feel so very warm.
"Jarin ba'vodu. Me- me'vāra... ti gara?" Tech asked in dialect.
The adults smiled proudly, glancing at each other.
"Nās'ika, ad. Same old, same old," Jarin'ba' shrugged, looking a little too much like his brother.
At that, Ninety-Nine carefully lifted himself off his chair and gestured to their guest.
"Come, Jar'ika. Wrecker should be in the kitchen."
Both Ninety-Nine and Tech were much smaller than Jarin'ba', but that didn't stop her from trying to meet their heights.
As she followed slowly behind Tech, allowing Ninety-Nine to lead from the rear, Jarin'ba' threw a question into the air. "Where are the Kar'ike? Do you have any up yet?"
Tech replied, "They reside in Ninety-Nine's room."
"Oh, jat'ane."
The group shuffled into the kitchen where Wrecker had begun chomping away at his food. Echo and Fives sat with their cereal, staring at Wrecker, who'd recently taken to Mandalorian style savoury pancakes and sausage for his breakfast.
The former was store bought, savoury with a touch of sweet and spice. It was disgusting. The latter was simply reheated leftovers.
"Hey, Wreck! Guess who?"
"Buir!"
After which a single word rang out in a duet of, "Aunty!"
"Hi, the boys!"
She waved at the twins and went over to give Wrecker a small hug from behind. The twins tried to smother some dark eyed, envious looks, and Wrecker was quickly saved when Jarin'ba' pulled away to start making caf.
She looked over at Ninety-Nine, who gestured from the doorway that he'd return after he got ready for the day.
Tech chose this moment to sidle up to her. Jarin'ba' smiled, deciding not to cut Tech a sly look.
"Jarin ba'vodu," Tech began as she worked the spiced caf bag into the caf press.
"Which dessert should we have when Wrecker returns home tomorrow; Jin Lime Pie or Koa'Ghoba?"
She snickered, long hair coming loose from its bun as her hair shook. "Why is there any debate? The answer is both, obviously."
Tech blinked. Crestfallen. "Of course. Why did I think any different?"
"Sorry, adi," she grinned, unapologetic.
A body shuffled up to the kitchen doorway.
"Jarin... ba'vodu..."
Well, that was unexpected. A pale blonde figure slunk into the now packed kitchen.
"Oh... Crosshair... you've gotten big, ba'ad."
"You're still taller," the thin boy groused.
That was true. Tech could hear his twin's stomach rumbling as he walked by, which explained his presence.
"Heh. And I always will be, kid. Blame Ruusan'bu'"
"That is not how surrogacy works, Jarin ba'vodu."
"I disagree. Just look at Wrecker!"
In a sense, she was not exactly wrong.
The pair were similar in looks, with faces more round, and their height, heft and strong limbs. Not the same by any means, but not out of the realm of possibility they could be blood relatives.
However, Jarin'ba' was a darker shade of brown-and-gold. She had long, thick, straight hair where Wrecker's curled softly but surely as it grew out. Her eyes were also slightly angular and a lighter shade of brown. So light, they were almost as golden as her skin. Her mouth differed as well, as her lips were somewhat thicker.
The nose, though, that was on point. So to speak.
Tech leaned on the bench as his brothers traded witticisms with their aunt while the jug boiled. Crosshair didn't participate, but he allowed the room to settle into a polite air space while he nibbled at cereal.
With everyone packed in, it was a little awkward for Wrecker to move about. He rinsed his plate and utensils and placed them into the dishwasher. Then he slipped out the door while Jarin'ba' was busy heating pancakes.
Ever curious, Tech retrieved Wrecker's forgotten books, soon following his bigger brother out into the hall and up the stairs.
"Tech, what's up?"
Hunter blinked at him with a slight air of confusion.
"I believe Wrecker is preparing for his sleepover. I was going to help him."
"Oh, good. Where's Ninety-Nine?"
Tech answered to his knowledge, "In the shower."
"Oh, nice. See you down there."
Hunter hurried down the stairs, and Tech ambled into Cross and Wrecker's room, where he found the latter hunkered down on his bed.
Wrecker simply lay there on his side next to Lula, a little despondent.
"I think you forgot this." Tech angled a perfect frisbee throw, and the book landed light as a feather near Wrecker's midsection.
Wrecker beamed, all sunlight now. "Aw, you found it!"
The smaller boy couldn't help but snort."You just left it on the kitchen table."
"Oh, right."
As the pages ruffled, Tech shifted from side to side in front of the bed. He took a moment, and decided to sit on the floor, near Wrecker's head. Wrecker laid his diary on the pillow and began rummaging around in his musty school bag for a pen.
"Are you... Alright?" Tech broached, kicking himself mentally for trying to do this. Served him right for being nosy.
"Yeah, it's nothing. It's all good, y'know, just uh... Nervous."
After scoring a pen, Wrecker threw his backpack into a far space he'd call 'away', and started doodling.
"You are nervous..." murmured Tech.
Wrecker hummed an affirmative. "S'been a while. Haven't... Seen her in a while."
"That is putting it lightly."
"Yeah, but I'm sure Jarin'bu' is busy, and stuff."
Tech just sat there and let his brother ramble.
"Like, she could call or send letters and stuff, but she doesn't. Cross said she shouldn't come around at all, because she's so 'flaky', but we dunno what her life's like."
"No, we do not."
It was better to agree, and allow Wrecker to sort his own thoughts out.
"I mean... She had a hard life, right? She was a refugee. She crossed on her own. That's hard... Right?"
"I have heard it is, yes."
"Yeah, so... I don't think he's wrong or anything-"
"You don't?"
"It would be better if she was more like..."
"Like the other one?"
"Yeah..."
Tech heard the moment Wrecker started digging his pen hard, scraping into the pages.
"Why? Jarin'ba' seems very... Nice."
"I know. Why did she have to be nice?"
To his credit, Wrecker's voice didn't break. He was simply confused, which confused Tech. People generally started crying at this point, didn't they?
Wrecker muttered, "she's such a weirdo, man."
"Huh?"
"Like, who leaves a kid behind twice, but... They're nice? And friendly and charming, and... Why do the mean ones get to keep the kids?"
"It's really an individual's decision."
"Yeah, I know. But she could've individually decided to keep me."
"But what would we do without you?"
There was a long, long pause. A silent one. And Tech was sure he'd said something wrong.
"Heh. Could be that..." Wrecker chuckled lightly, which ended up in a cough. His throat must've clenched and he was trying to hide it.
Strange.
"Hey, Tech, you're smart. Can ya help me with something?"
"What is it?"
"I'm writing a thing and I need your help."
"Very well."
"I'll read the first bit, then you can go get your datapad from the kitchen."
Huh. When had Tech forgotten that? The day was becoming more off-kilter by the second.
"Okay, so it goes..."
There is an unknown sequence
Series of events
Choices hidden
Decisions made
For and against
But not for, not because
But ??
Tears, swallowed
Fears ??
"What is it about?"
"Brothers."
"It doesn't sound like it."
"That's cause it's not written yet. I need your help."
Tech found he had nothing to say. Or to add, rather. But Wrecker still seemed, upset? He needed something, but Tech wasn't sure what.
"Hang on to that thought, I need my datapad."
Which he had forgotten. Forgotten. In the kitchen. What a strange day... All thanks to Jarin ba'vodu.