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The Marauder was deafeningly silent, which was decidedly not normal. There was a strange tension in the air, and none of the Batch knew how to break it. They kept casting furtive glances at the ‘fresher, twitching at the slightest noise coming from within. Almost as if they were expecting it to explode.
Which was probably not too far from the truth.
I’d officially been in there for too long.
I heard the approaching footsteps, scowling at the door and daring whoever was on the other side to say something.
I bet it was Hunter.
“Mern? Are you gonna come out of there?” Yup, Hunter. My scowl darkened.
“No. Fuck off.” I heard his sigh.
“You do realise that I can override this door, right?”
“And you’ll lose something important to your gender.” There was a soft thunk from the door, and I realised that Hunter was probably resting his head against it. I felt a little bad for taking it out on the poor guy. It wasn’t his fault. But still, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit petulant.
“I am not coming out of this room, and you can’t make me!” I heard his soft chuckle.
“Oh sweetheart, you and I both know that I can. And I will. I’m gonna give you five seconds. If you’re not out of there, I’m sending Wrecker in.” I felt my cheeks pale at that.
“Hunter! Don’t you kriffing dare!”
“One…” Shit. He’s not kidding.
“Two…” shit shit shit!
“Three…”
“Hunter! I’m not coming out!”
“Four. Last chance, M.”
“Fuck. Off!”
“Five. Tech, get this door open. Wrecker, get in there and get her out.” Oh fuck! I scramble up off the floor as the lock is manually overridden. I pushed myself as far into the corner as possible, trying to make it as difficult as I could for Wrecker to pick me up. Because I knew that’s what he was going to do.
True to form, the hulking clone came in with a mischievous grin.
*
Outside the ‘fresher, the other clones could hear me protesting.
“Wrecker! Wrecker, no! No, don’t you dare!” They heard the slapping of bare hands against plastoid armour plating as I shrieked.
“Put me down! Wrecker, put me down right now! Get off me you great lummox!” He strolled out of the ‘fresher with a struggling, fighting, thrashing medic slung over his shoulder.
“Who ordered the special?” He called over my yelling. I slapped at his back and clawed at his armour, kicking my bare legs at anyone who dared get too close. He laughed and dumped me unceremoniously on the floor. I immediately scrambled to my feet and made to run back into the ‘fresher, only to be grabbed around the waist and deposited in a seat. I glowered at each of the clones in turn, folding my arms indignantly.
“What the Kriff are you jokers looking at? You got me out of there. Happy now?”
“Mern, I am not certain why you’re being so defensive.” I jumped to my feet, turning on the analyst. To his credit, he didn’t flinch at my sudden movement. A blink was the only outward sign of his shock.
“You don’t know why… look at me! I look… I look ridiculous! There is no way, no way that I can go out in public like this!” I gesture to the cause of my vitriol.
I was currently dressed in a grey silken blouse and a black skirt that sat high halfway up my thighs. And then the heels… Gods, how could anyone willingly wear these? They were instruments of kriffing torture!
Tech adjusted his lenses, actually studying me.
“Granted it is not your… usual attire, but the, ahem, appearance is quite effective.”
“Yeah, you look really pretty!” I folded my arms, willing away the flush at Wrecker’s admittedly sweet compliment.
“Downright sexy, actually. Maybe you should wear this more often, M.” I scowled at the leering sniper.
“Not on your fucking life.” Hunter interjected before I could get any more heated.
“Mern. It’s just for this mission. After that, you don’t have to wear it ever again. Promise.” I huffed, glaring holes into the control panel.
Stupid kriffing mission.
“I still don’t know why I have to wear this stupid get up.” Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose.
“M, we’ve been over this. We need someone to be on the inside, to get the information we need from that senator. This is a disguise. Pure and simple. Staff uniform, apparently.” I rolled my eyes.
“I know why I have to, Hunter! I just don’t know why I have to be the one to wear it! I’m a medic for crying out loud!” I threw my hands in the air, huffing explosively. “I did not sign up for this! Nowhere in my contract does it stipulate that I will have to dress in the shortest skirt imaginable and run the risk of being ogled by some sleazy, slimy senator as his staff!”
“Actually, this is not the shortest skirt, by any means. The shortest would be…”
“Not interested, Tech!” I sighed, slumping back into the chair in defeat. Hunter crouched next to me, taking my hands in his.
“Listen, Mern. It’s only for this mission. We’re all going to be there. We won’t let anything happen to you, alright? We just need to know if this guy really does have ties to the Separatists before we can slice into his files. Ok?” I sighed and, reluctantly, nodded.
Kriffing Cody. I’d bet anything that this was his idea of a joke.
“Besides, there’s really only you who can pull this off. We can’t exactly wear this.” I glowered at Crosshair, who was looking entirely too smug. My scowl morphed into a slightly evil grin as an image sprung up in my mind.
“Oh, now that I would pay top credit to see. You guys prancing around in this skirt and these heels? Yes please.” Crosshair simply grinned while the others looked decidedly uncomfortable.
He flipped his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. I stood shakily, almost toppling over in these ridiculous heels. He chuckled, amused.
“How difficult is it to walk in those things, really?”
“You wanna find out?” His eyebrow has raised in silent challenge. “Alright, Beanpole, how about we make this interesting? I make it through the mission without stumbling and you have to wear this get up. For a day.”
“Fine. But, you stumble more than once, and you wear something that we choose. For the day.” I reach out my hand.
“Deal.” We shook on it, his grin predatory. Hunter stepped between us as Tech and Wrecker shared a look.
“Alright, enough. Let’s just get this over with, huh?” I nod, staring pointedly at the sniper.
The sooner this was over, the better.
*
I pulled at my skirt for what felt like the hundredth time while carrying the silver platter of canapés. I was so sure that it was riding up, giving everyone a view of my underwear. I didn’t dare to bend over, convinced that I would flash someone.
I really hated short skirts.
It didn’t help that every male there was trying to cop a feel while taking a serving from the platter. I had to restrain myself really hard so that I didn’t break anyone’s wrist.
“Stop fidgeting. You’ll give yourself away.” The silken voice hissed through my earpiece. I brushed an imaginary hair behind my ear, speaking softly into the hidden microphone.
“I hate short skirts. I feel like I’m showing everyone… everything !”
“You’re not. Just relax.”
“Easy for you to say, Cross. You’re not the one wearing it. Or dealing with it.” I politely sidestep yet another groping hand. “I swear I’m going to break the next hand that tries to touch me.”
“Focus, both of you. We have a mission to complete.” We fell silent for a short while. I slowly made my way around the convention, playing the part of hostess while unobtrusively eavesdropping on conversations. The heel of my shoe snagged on the carpet and I stumbled a little.
I righted myself immediately, huffing a curse in Huttese, immensely grateful that the platter stayed in my hand. Crosshair’s chuckle whispered in my ear.
“Something funny, Toothpick?”
“Very. Can’t wait to see you in the little number I’ve picked out.”
“Keep dreaming, mate.”
“Oh I will.” I’m about to respond when something else catches my attention. The senator is leaving.
With a known Separatist agent.
“Boys, we are go.”
*
The mission was successfully completed.
Tech easily hacked into the senator’s files and found what we had been looking for.
I even got to take my frustration out on a guard who, eventually, worked out that I wasn’t a member of staff and tried to pull a blaster on me.
Who knew that silver platters were such effective weapons?
We handed the information over to Cody, who then passed it onto… well… to be honest, I wasn’t really interested at this point. I was just glad to be back in my usual attire.
I sighed and lounged on one of the racks, wallowing in relief and comfort once again. I cracked an eye open as I heard something crash into the ‘fresher door.
“ Dank farrik !” I sniggered, sitting up and looking at the door.
“Everything ok in there, Cross?”
“Fuck off!” I grinned at the venomous snarl, enjoying my revenge immensely.
I got up and sauntered towards the door.
“You coming out of there? Or do I have to send Wrecker in?”
“I said. Fuck. Off!”
“Aww, don’t be like that!” He growled at me. Actually growled at me.
I darted back as the door hissed open. Crosshair stumbled out of the ‘fresher, his face contorted into a mask of thunderous rage.
And I swallowed.
Little Gods. He looked… really kriffing good.
The grey silk blouse I’d been wearing hugged tight to his lithe frame and set off his silver hair, the skirt resting high on his toned thighs. And those legs… Maker but they went on forever!
“Holy shit…” He scowled at me.
“Well? Let’s hear it!” He folded his arms and glared at me. The silk of the blouse accentuated his lean muscles.
“Crosshair… you look… wow… didn’t think it would backfire on me so spectacularly.” His scowl melted into a grin.
“Oh really?” I nodded, looking down at his legs. Damn, but the man had some nice legs. It was unfair how nice his legs were. Shapely, toned, slender… My cheeks were on fire.
He stumbled while trying to saunter towards me, slim hips swinging with every step, skirt clinging to his shapely backside. He towered over me usually, but in those heels, he practically loomed. He reached out to stroke my cheek, leaning down towards me. I felt myself heat at the fire in his eyes. We lost time as he got closer, his lips almost brushing mine.
The sound of an image capture and a wolf whistle tore us out of the moment. He swung around, almost toppling as he overbalanced in his heels and crashed against the wall.
“Woo! Crosshair! Looking good, Doll!” Wrecker catcalled. Cross gritted his teeth, eyes murderous as he glared at the other three. He pushed himself upright and stalked unsteadily towards the three clones.
“Hey, take it easy Sweet Cheeks,” Hunter placated, holding his hands up. Crosshair’s eye twitched. Tech, smartly, kept his mouth shut. He did, however, snap another image on his datapad. That, apparently, was the last straw as Crosshair kicked off the heels and lunged at the three with a snarl. They immediately scarpered, laughing as they escaped the rampaging sniper.
“Get back here you karking idiots!” I blinked and leaned back against the wall, willing my heart to stop pounding out of my chest. Something crashed from further in the ship, a yelp following it. I sighed and shook my head, heading to my bunk and pulling out my supplies.
From the sounds of it, I was going to need them.