Work Text:
Echo takes the last of Fox’s armour off, careful and precise, and pushes him backwards with gentle-firm hands until he finds himself pressed up against Fives.
Fives wraps warm arms around him and somehow Echo’s gentle-firm hands have found their way up to cradle his face and it’s — it’s a lot, and Fox’s eyes slip shut of their own accord.
He’s pressed between them and his skin is buzzing and he feels like crawling out of it or tearing it away and he doesn’t know what to do, but there’s a burning in his chest that makes him want to gnash teeth and spit venomous anger. It’s too much, but it’s not enough and these fucking troopers are being so sithdamn gentle and he—
He breathes in as deep as he can manage and it shakes in a way that makes him burn with shame.
“I have to work,” he rasps, and it sounds far less angry than he was aiming for, sounds something closer to lost even to his own ears.
Echo frowns, hands still pressing against Fox’s skin gentle, and the arms around his middle squeeze tight as Fives huffs behind him.
“You need to rest,” he murmurs, and his breath is warm against the back of Fox’s neck.
Fox’s skin is a mess of tingling sensations and he wants to sink into it all and cram himself back into his armour all at the same time. Can’t decide whether to pull away or not even as his heart beats half out of his chest and his breath shakes on every exhale.
“I have a shift in two hours, dipshit, I need to work.” he says, sharp, and he’s trying to be firm even as he trembles.
Fives hums, tightens his grip like he can keep Fox here and away from work.
Bold, Fox thinks, ballsy di’kuts.
Echo runs a thumb across his cheek and Fox shivers, can’t help the way he presses into it, hates himself a little for it.
Their hands are gentle around him and pressing against him and it’s too much and not enough and more than he needs but not near as much as he wants and—
“Let me try something,” Echo had asked him, face set and stubborn with Fives standing beside him, determined.
He outranks them, could order them to stop, to stand down, to get out. Knows he doesn’t have to, knows they’ll stop if he asks them too, will step away and leave him alone and either sit around doing something else or leave completely if that's what he wants.
It hasn’t happened often before, but it has happened.
He could tell them to stop, could make them leave and go back to his work, could get rid of the buzzing on his skin and the itching crawling feeling in his chest.
He doesn’t.
What he does instead is swallow harshly at the press of lips to his neck, to his cheeks, to his eyes and his forehead and his collarbone.
He feels like he’ll shake apart like this, and it’s infuriating.
“Not made of transparisteel Ey’ika,” he drawls and Fives laughs behind him.
“No,” he agrees, and he manages to only sound a little condescending, “but consider, sleep and rest and food, all those magical things that keep you moving and from, I don’t know, collapsing.”
Fox rolls his eyes, “I do manage to do all of that,” he tells them, dry and unamused.
Echo hums, presses into keldabe with a quiet, “Whatever you say, Sir.”
Fox huffs, eyes slipping closed once again, shoulders dropping without his permission.
Whoever thought Echo wasn’t precisely as much of a shithead as Fives was karked in the head, Echo was just quieter about it.
“You’re both menaces,” he grumbles, and Echo hums amusement as Fives giggles into Fox’s shoulder.
Across the room on his desk, there’s days worth of paperwork still to get through and the shaking hasn’t stopped and the buzzing hasn’t died down yet, still leaves Fox feeling like he’s run 30 klicks in full kit in the pouring rain and heavy wind but—
He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t ask them to stop, doesn’t order them away.
He huffs, knocks elbows and heads with the two di’kut’s holding him steady between them.
Fives lets out a squawk and a curse and Echo laughs, gives back as good as he got. Light touches, firm and grounding and skittering all across his skin.
Pains in my fucking side, he thinks, breathes out shakily and is almost comically horrified to find it’s thought only with fondness.
The tingling all across his skin is slowly sparking less, and the buzzing in his head grows a little calmer and he can’t decide whether to press into Echo’s touch or lean back into Fives’.
“Trouble?” Fives asks, and Fox can feel the lines of his smirk pressed into his skin.
Ballsy, he thinks again, scoffs and flicks at Fives in annoyance, keeps the sound of Echo’s giggling wheeze close.
These two, these two fucking idiots.
“Getting a little big for your blacks there, trooper,” he mutters and Fives laughs, deep and rumbling, runs fingers up Fox’s side and Fox feels a little like he did when he was four and Vau had thought it would be funny to spar with some of the cadets. Vau had known what he was doing, always, know how to land a punch in just the right way to steal all the breath from your lungs and leave you aching for days.
This feeling, it’s a little like that, no air in his lungs and aching somewhere vulnerable in his chest.
He tips his head back, and the knock of it against Fives rattles the ache out a bit, the press of Echo at his front lends shaky stability to the ground under his feet.
“You know,” Echo says, all casual observation, “Laying down on the couch for a bit seems like a good idea.”
Fox huffs, sees the ploy for what it is and he could say no, could untangle himself from warm arms and warm breath and something that might be love, could go back to work but—
Fives is a warm weight at his back, and Echo presses close, eyes soft and patient, and Fox doesn’t really want to move himself from between them, doesn’t want to lose this.
“You just want an excuse to cuddle,” he says with mock disgust, instead of something stupid or sappy.
Echo hums, shrugs, smiles, “Perhaps, no proof though.”
Fox snorts, “Sure there’s not,” he snips and he can feel the way Fives titters against his skin.
“Let me try something,” Echo had pleaded, and Fox hadn’t expected it to be like this. Just touching, no meaning to it, no demands. Hadn’t expected cuddling and tooth-rotting displays of intimacy for Force sake.
He huffs, says, “Fine,” like he isn’t half-melted into the weight of their hands on him, like he hasn’t been trembling for the past ten minutes, like he isn’t leaning into their touch every time it looks like they may pull away.
Echo’s smile is radiant, and Fives presses kiss after kiss against his neck until Fox’s throat closes up.
His work lays abandoned on his desk, and Fox’s chest aches fiercely, pressed between warmth and laughter and something he’s terrified to find resembles something like love.