Chapter Text
Boil wakes up to the hum of a hyperdrive and Waxer’s breath on his neck. It’s always harder to keep track of cycles in space, but he thinks it’s still early, and makes no move to get up. He lays there in the dark and listens to Waxer’s breaths, slow and steady in sleep. Waxer’s pressed up against him, with Boil’s arms around him and their legs tangled together. It’s so utterly familiar that it could be the same as a hundred other mornings - but as soon as Boil wakes he knows that isn’t true. Everything about this is familiar, but it feels like everything has changed.
He’s still instinctively looking for evidence that this isn’t actually happening, that this is a dream he’ll wake up from at any moment. As he lays there and stares at Waxer, asleep against his shoulder with his mouth slightly open, it… feels real, at least. They’re both still naked under the covers, and Boil can partially see Waxer’s shirt where it hit the floor across from the bunk last night. His lips still tingle slightly - he’s never kissed, or been kissed, in his life as much as he has in the last rotation.
Waxer stirs a little in his sleep, but doesn’t come any closer to waking. Boil tightens his arm around Waxer just a little, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the line of Waxer’s shoulder blade. Maybe this is a dream somehow, some kind of feverish fantasy that will end as soon as they reach Ryloth and it’s no longer just the two of them. Even with all the physical evidence to the contrary, there’s still something inside Boil that’s waiting for the moment when he wakes up and everything goes back to normal.
Boil focuses on the feel of his thumb moving back and forth over Waxer’s skin. He’d wanted this for so long, but he never thought he’d actually have it. He’d been… prepared to never have it. And that would’ve been ok. As long as he could be with Waxer, whatever shape that took, it was enough. Being Waxer’s best friend was more than enough, more than Boil had ever hoped to dream of in those early days of the war. He’d buried his other desires, his greed for more, because he already had so much more than he deserved. Waxer had never wanted him that way, and that was alright as long as Waxer would let him stay by his side.
And then in less than a day, Waxer had tilted Boil’s entire world on its axis. He’s happy, of course - happy doesn’t feel like remotely a strong enough word for the sparks of elation he felt over and over again yesterday - but he also feels like he’s spinning wildly through space with no lifeline.
It’s not… frightening, not really. Well, maybe a little. It’s startling, at the very least, to suddenly feel all of this with no real distractions, because… Well, he wasn’t pining hopelessly in a corner for the entire war. There was no time for that, and even when they did have free time, all of their other friends in the 212th were there, Obi-Wan and his meditation sessions were there, and Waxer of course. With all of them Boil could feel like he was safe, like he belonged. And that was enough. These other wants only bubbled up occasionally to the point where he had difficulty tamping them back down - the majority of the time, they were just in the background, barely noticeable.
Now, when the war is done, it’s just the two of them, and Waxer looks at him with those dark eyes and just kisses him again and again… there’s nothing to prevent those desires from overflowing. And he doesn’t want to prevent it, not really, but it’s what he’s done for so long, and finally feeling the full extent of what he’s tamped down for years suddenly flaring brightly with Waxer’s lips on his… it frightens him, just a little.
What if Boil screws this up? Waxer hasn’t even been with anyone else before, and Boil’s a mess with his feelings even at the best of times. He’s kept all of these wants contained for so long, and finally letting them out a little yesterday was incredible, but also so overwhelming that he could barely process it. He kept having to remind himself to keep his touch light and gentle - he doesn’t want to scare Waxer, or worse, hurt him, just because he can’t keep a handle on himself.
Waxer stirs again in his sleep and mumbles indistinctly. He’ll probably be waking up soon. Boil notices that his own heart rate has increased as he’s been mulling over the previous day in his head. He lets out a slow sigh, trying to relax, and to be logical and reasonable instead of letting his anxieties run wild.
Waxer loves him, he reminds himself. Waxer can make his own decisions about what he wants, and he certainly seemed to enjoy what they did together. Waxer even told him out loud yesterday that he doesn’t want things to go back to the way they were. The memory of his smile as he pulled Boil in for more and more last night is reassuring, and the way he breathlessly moaned Boil’s name is something Boil will carry inside him for the rest of his life.
Waxer shifts next to him, sighs, and cracks an eye open. He immediately smiles when he sees Boil looking at him.
“Hey,” he says, stretching a little and then curling against Boil.
“Hey,” Boil says softly. Waxer’s smile quirks a little as he looks back at him, as if he’s remembering something fond, and then he leans in closer. He does it rather slowly, giving Boil enough time to move away. Boil doesn’t move, just parts his lips slightly as Waxer’s lips meet his. Boil lets his eyes fall closed.
Force, he hopes this isn’t a dream.
They kiss lazily, and Waxer trails a hand up from Boil’s hip to his shoulder as he leans in closer. There’s no heat behind it, just Waxer’s lips gently meeting his and lulling Boil into a pleasant, sleepy trance.
Getting up takes them longer than it probably should - Waxer keeps finding his lips again, and Boil is nowhere near strong enough to resist that kind of temptation. Finally, Boil manages to mumble something about the daily engine checks that they’re supposed to do soon. Waxer makes a sleepy, annoyed sound that Boil’s heard before when trying to drag Waxer out of their sleeping bag on a cold morning.
Eventually they both stumble out of bed to get dressed. Boil manages to locate his shirt from the night before, and has to do a bit of searching before locating his pants, which somehow landed near the foot of the opposite bunk. Waxer, rubbing his eyes, vaguely kicks his clothes towards the laundry bin on his way to the closet. Boil rolls his eyes and gathers Waxer’s clothes up, also. When he turns to the closet, Waxer is rifling through his shirts and wearing a pair of purple tooka-print undershorts.
Boil snorts and can’t hold back a chuckle. Waxer looks at him questioningly, apparently not quite awake enough to realize what he’s wearing.
“I forgot about those,” he says, gesturing vaguely at Waxer. Waxer looks down and laughs.
“Oh yeah…” He flashes a grin at Boil. “Should’ve gotten a pair for you, too.”
Boil barely holds back another eye roll as he presses into Waxer’s space to start getting dressed. While they have once or twice mistakenly put on the other’s pants or shirts, Boil’s never mistaken his underwear for Waxer’s, which is filled with an assortment of brightly colored patterns. Boil’s are also patterned since that’s what the shop had, but less colorful.
“I’ll pass,” he replies, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he starts gathering his own outfit for the day. “I don’t know why you even got those.”
Waxer huffs in mock offense. “Well, first of all, I got them because they’re amazing.” His grin goes a bit soft as he gives Boil a sidelong glance. “And, you know, because they made you laugh, and I always like hearing you laugh.”
That makes Boil pause, because Force, Waxer just comes out and says stuff like this. Just casually saying, out loud, that Waxer loves him and wants to be with him.
Boil just stares at Waxer for a moment, standing there grinning at him and wearing nothing but that silly tooka print underwear, holding a shirt that Boil knows he picked out because it would feel soft against his skin. It’s odd because after all the anxious thoughts flying through Boil’s head as he lay there just a few minutes ago, all of this still feels so utterly normal, and easy. It’s always been easier with Waxer.
Boil must stare for a little too long, because Waxer frowns a little. He moves into Boil’s space, bumping their shoulders together.
“You ok?”
Boil takes in a slow breath, and lets it out. He’s so much more than ok - he’s the luckiest person in the galaxy.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, I’m ok.”