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The soft tinkling of raindrops echoed throughout your small Coruscant apartment as the weather raged on, adding to the ambience as you sipped your tea and scrolled social media on the holo-net. It had been raining most of the day, and you had planned on going out, but this was the perfect excuse to stay in and do absolutely nothing. A blanket rested loosely over your legs while you sat length-wise on the couch, and you doubt that you’ve ever been this comfortable, at least on your own.
That thought sends a pang of melancholy into your heart. You certainly had been more comfortable, wrapped up in the arms of your lanky lover, clone trooper Tech.
He’d been off on a mission for weeks, but you had no idea where. Of course, details like those were never ones he could share with you beforehand, since you were a civilian. You also had no idea when he was coming back. The Bad Batch were sent off on the most difficult missions due to their enhancements and skills, so their appearances on Coruscant were sporadic and far between. Despite the significant lack of time you got to spend with him, you stayed loyal to him, and he was loyal to you.
When he could, he would send you holo-messages saying hello and how much he missed you, and sometimes Wrecker would pop in and greet you as well. Tech would even go so far as to recite poetry he found in his dives into the holo-net every once in a blue moon, and those were your favorites. You could listen to him forever. You would never understand how Crosshair could complain about Tech talking too much.
A firm knock on your front door ripped you out of your trance, and with a holler of ‘just a minute!’, you tossed the blanket off your legs and walked the distance from your couch to the door. Pressing the release switch, the metal opens with a woosh, and before you, fully kitted with his helmet resting under one arm and a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers you’ve ever seen in his other hand, stands Tech. He’s soaking wet except for his head, dripping in the entryway, and he looks nervous behind his yellow-tinted goggles. “I hope this is not a bad time.”
Your eyes widen in shock as you take him in. It takes a moment to register that he’s even real and that he’s spoken to you. You can feel tears well in your eyes as a grin big enough it could crack your face graces your lips. “Not at all!”
You jump and fling your arms around his shoulders, pulling the man into the tightest embrace you can manage. In the jolt of the movement he drops his helmet, but after a moment of surprise he returns the embrace, wrapping those long arms of his around your middle. His face presses into the crook of your neck, and you can feel his warm, shaky breath against your skin as you hug him. The rain soaking his cuirass wets your shirt and chills your skin, but you couldn’t care less. Tech was here .
You stand there in the entryway and hug him for what feels like the happiest lifetime until he gently pulls you from him to gaze at your face. His eyes are gentle and full of emotion behind his goggles, and you cup his cheek in your warm hand. He tilts his head subtly into the contact, his own gloved hand coming up to cradle yours. His fingertips are cold even through the glove. You realize he must be freezing and you step back. A frown crosses his face at the loss of contact, but you stoop down to scoop his plastoid helmet up. “Come inside. I’ll get you a change of clothes.”
At the prospect of getting warm, he eagerly steps aside and you finally take the flowers from him. “These are beautiful, Tech. Where did you get them?”
“They come from the planet we just returned from. It was quite the ordeal to transport them here safely and keep them alive due to their finicky requirements, but with my diligence they made it in one piece.” He sounds proud of himself. You smile.
He starts explaining to you how to take care of them and their cultural meaning to the sentient beings on the planet, seeming to forget the mission he’s supposed to be on, which is removing his armor. You set his helmet on your coffee table and step up to him as his rambling transitions to facts about the other flora of the planet. He watches you in interest as your hands slip up his chest and unclip his pauldrons, and he allows you to pull the armor away from him. You gently set it down on the floor and continue onto his cuirass, as he starts explaining to you the various lifespans of the trees that were surrounding the area of their encampment. The only sounds currently occupying your apartment are the rain beating away at the transparisteel window, the soft clicking of plastic on plastic as you unbuckle the clasps of Tech’s chest armor, and the clone’s voice.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Up,” you gently instruct, tapping Tech’s forearm, interrupting him. He continues to babble on, even as he raises his arms above his head, allowing you to pull the heavier-than-it-looks armor over his head. You set it down with reverence next to his pauldrons, mimicking the way you’ve watched him remove it. This does not go unnoticed by Tech, and you can see a smile on his face as he observes you. You care about the integrity of the armor just as much as he and his vod do, and that makes his heart soar in his chest.
It continues on like this until the clone is stripped down to his cold, wet blacks, his armor stacked neatly just how he likes to the side. You gently take his hand and lead him back to the bedroom you share with him when he’s home, and turn to the dresser against the wall next to the door. He’s quiet now, just watching you as you open the drawer you’ve designated for him. There isn’t much in it, just a small collection of civvie clothes, a spare set of blacks that you’re not sure how he smuggled from the barracks, a single pair of grey sweatpants, and some underwear and socks. You pick up the sweatpants and a pair of boxers, holding them out to him as if they were a gift.
To Tech, they were. The reassurance that he had someone to look forward to coming home to (at least his home away from Kamino), that you cared for him enough to allow him to take up space in your apartment, even the way you just let him ramble on and on, was the greatest gift the galaxy had bestowed upon him. Your sweet smile was enough to cause his chest to tighten, and he could swear he felt the dopamine and serotonin flood his body, relaxing him almost immediately.
He takes the clothing from you with a smile of his own, and you take his wet clothes as he changes. You depart briefly to put the blacks in the wash, adding some scent beads so that he has something to remember you by when he leaves. By the time you come back, he’s already clambered into your full-size bed, tucked under your comforter. The corner on your side is lifted invitingly, and you slide in with him, tangling your legs with his and resting your head on his shoulder. He rests the arm you’re laying on around your shoulders, the other coming to lay loosely around your waist. His skin is still cold, so you run your hands gently over his chest to warm him. He shivers at the motion, closing his eyes, relaxing further under your gentle ministrations. After a few moments of this, you gently run your hands up his neck to his face and grasp his goggles, sliding them off of his head and setting them on your bedside table. When you turn back to him, he has his eyes open, and you stare at his eyes. They truly were beautiful, deep honey-brown and so full of life and incomprehensible intelligence. You can’t help the tears that well in your own eyes as you gaze at him, your hand coming to cup his cheek, fingertips whispering against the indents in his skin from the goggles. He frowns. “Why are you crying, ad’ika ?”
“I’m just happy you’re here,” you manage through the tightness of your throat, and his cheeks flush. “You’re happy enough to trigger tears just from that?” He sounds disbelieving, like his mere presence shouldn’t cause such a reaction. You nod. You know it isn’t the logical response, but where Tech was full of knowledge, you were full of emotion.
That’s why you two worked so well together.
He wipes the tears from your eyes with his calloused thumb, then tugs you closer to his chest. You bury your face there, clinging to him like a lifeline. And that’s where you sleep, as the rain continues to patter against your window.