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Sometimes, the nastier part of Niner’s mind - the part that he tried to reserve for seppies and clankers only - thought it would be awfully nice to just let go and light into one of his shabla squadmates.
He’d never do it, of course. He’d tear a strip off them from time to time, even if it did make him feel a bit guilty later on, especially when he thought of his old squadmates and how many things he’d left unsaid between them. But he’d never physically take out his frustration on any of the members of his current squad, no matter how tempting some of them made it. Instead, he found the nearest punching bag - or the equivalent thereof - and pummeled it until his vision blurred.
Which was what he was doing when you found him. You’d been warned by a couple troopers to stay away from this particular training room. Crazy commando in here, they’d told you. In a foul mood and ready to take a swing at anyone who didn’t tread carefully. Niner heard the whole conversation; he wasn’t so far gone as to miss what was being said in a hallway less than fifty meters from him and through an open doorway, no less. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to focus on the bag he was abusing instead.
“Niner?”
He whirled around, fists raised, only to freeze awkwardly when he saw it was you. After what the troopers had said to you, he hadn’t expected you to come in.
“Are you okay?”
Your tone was hesitant and you were twisting your skirt in your hands. Belatedly, Niner realized he was still in fighting stance. He dropped his arms and tried to relax.
“I’m fine.”
“It doesn’t look like you’re fine.”
“Just getting a workout in.”
You set your jaw and stepped further into the room, pressing the control pad to the door.
“We’re not supposed to close the door in here,” Niner said, hesitancy creeping into his own voice. He hated the sound of it. “You shouldn’t even be in this part of the barracks.”
“You disappeared,” you said. “No one could tell me where you were, not even Skirata.”
Oh, Niner had no doubt Kal’buir knew exactly where he’d gone. “If you really think he couldn’t tell you, you don’t know him very well. Or me.”
“Ah.”
You moved forward again, taking cautious steps. Niner found his gaze drawn to where your teeth were worrying your lip. He was suddenly very aware of how his pulse, which had started to slow when he stopped moving, was beginning to pick up again.
“I want to know you,” you said quietly. “And honestly, I think I know you pretty well, considering I figured out where you were. What happened?”
“What d’you mean?”
You huffed and Niner’s focus shifted from your mouth to how your chest moved with the harsh exhale.
“I mean that you’ve been in here wearing yourself out for the better part of an hour, at least, while your squad is enjoying themselves. Something happened to make you this upset and I want to know what.”
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I am enjoying myself?”
Taking one last step forward, you stopped inches away from Niner’s chest. For a split second, he was confused to find he could feel your breath against his skin, but then he remembered that he’d discarded the top half of his blacks earlier on. While clones weren’t exactly concerned with modesty around each other, a woman was a different matter entirely. Heat crept into his cheeks as he watched your eyes drift over his torso before you snapped them back up to meet his.
“I don’t have to be a Jedi to know you’re lying. You’re furious, Niner. It’s pretty obvious. I know we haven’t seen each other in a few weeks, but - “ You broke off and bit your lip again. “Can you not tell me what happened? If so, I won’t keep asking.”
Something about your tone finally registered with Niner and he looked at your face carefully, drawing on his interrogation training to try and read your expression. He couldn’t find pity, nor impatience, nor anything like it. All he saw was concern and something else he couldn’t quite put a name to, though he’d seen it on Kal’buir’s face often, and more recently, on the face of the Jedi they’d worked with on Quiilura. She’d watched Darman with that something in her expression and Niner had found himself feeling a little envious. Now that he saw the same expression on your face, Niner’s resolve started to waver.
“It’s not a secret, it’s just Atin. He and Sev have been at each other’s throats since Delta pulled us out of - well, since they met each other, and Atin’s been out for blood with his old training sergeant, too. I should have put a stop to it right off, but I didn’t, and Skirata had to get involved today.”
Your forehead creased in confusion and Niner realized you probably hadn’t met any of Delta yet, nor would you have heard about the mission on the Separatist freighter, not unless someone had leaked classified info. He sighed and wiped the back of his hand across where sweat was starting to dry on his face.
“It’s hard to explain.”
“I think I know what you’re saying,” you said quickly. “But Atin’s problems aren’t yours.”
“I’m his sergeant, though, so they kind of are.”
Thankfully, you didn’t try to argue with that. “So you’re angry with yourself for not being having better control of your team?”
“Now you’ve got it.”
“And you’re going to keep hitting that punching bag until you feel better?”
Niner shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Um.” You glanced past Niner at the bag. “Does that actually make you feel better? Or do you want to do something else?”
Something else? Niner blinked at you in surprise. Maybe if he was still fresh off Kamino he wouldn’t have been able to guess what you meant, but he’d seen a little more of the galaxy since then. Still, you seemed too sweet to possibly mean that.
“Sorry?”
You shifted nervously, glancing up at him through your lashes. “You could…kiss me or something?” You looked away and pulled a face. “Sorry, that doesn’t sound great, and I don’t know if it would really help, and you probably don’t even - “
Kriff it. Niner threw every bit of caution he had to the wind and grabbed you, pulling you into him and mashing his mouth against yours. He knew he was being rough, but before he could figure out how to make this work, he felt you stiffen beneath his hands. He drew back, shame evaporating his excitement.
“No, wait,” you said, reaching up to put your hands on his face. “Don’t stop, just - relax a little?”
Your hands were cool and wonderfully soft, and Niner had to force himself not to nuzzle against them like a tooka.
“I don’t know how,” he admitted gruffly.
He swallowed and closed his eyes as you followed the line of his cheekbone with your thumb. When was the last time someone had touched his face? He couldn’t remember.
“Don’t know how to relax, or don’t know how to kiss me?” you teased gently. “You’re doing fine with the kissing, I promise, just go a little slower. We’ve got lots of time and - and I’ve wanted to do this since I met you; please, Niner, kiss me again?”
Niner took a deep breath. “Okay.”
This time, he held himself back, kept his movements slow and his hands loose. He still didn’t know what to do besides press his mouth against yours, but you helped him along this time, brushing your lips against his until he felt the tension drain from his body. When you finally pulled away from him to breathe, Niner had to bite his tongue to keep from whining in protest.
“Can we do that again?” he asked. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
You smiled and now that he knew how soft they were, Niner couldn’t tear his eyes away from your lips.
“I think so, too,” you said. “And I’ve got about an hour until my next shift, so - yes, we can do this some more.”
“An hour? Good.” Niner grinned. “I’m going to kiss you until then, provided you don’t mind.”
You laughed and nodded, and as Niner tipped your head back so he could chase your mouth with his again, he decided you were right. Between wearing out a punching bag and kissing you, he definitely preferred the kissing.