Chapter Text
I
Slowly and as quietly as you can, you push open the refresher door, popping your head out to look outside.
As you expected, Stone is spread out in his cot, with no shame or worries, while he scrolled down through his datapad.
Some pieces of his armor were in a corner while others were still on, his helmet was over his desk beside your lightsaber, and you could see bandages going all over his arm and wrist and some bacta patches in his tights.
He looked way too relaxed, considering past events.
“Psssst”.
“Hmm”, he answers, sounding way too much like a damn old man. Well, stress and his current job were making him look older than he already (and actually) was. Not as much as Fox, for example, but close enough.
“Are you too busy?”
“For you? Yes”, he answers, and you roll your eyes, making a face. His chuckle, next, confirms his terrible way of teasing you.
He then turns his head from the datapad to look at you.
“I’m joking”, he then sits down on the cot, putting the datapad beside him in the bed, “What does my General need?”
You roll your eyes again and open fully the refresher door to expose yourself.
You’re not wearing your usual Jedi robes, instead, you’re wearing simple trousers and a shirt older than the entire GAR but the clothes are inconsequently when all the attention goes to your bandages.
You know because Stone frowns and becomes utterly serious suddenly.
“You said it was just a scratch in your arm”, he accuses, staying sat but obviously about to check the bandages himself.
You sigh, exasperated.
“We ran out of bacta patches, so I had to use the good old bandages”, you explain, and Stone narrows his eyes at you accusingly. “I’m going to be fine, stop being such a grumpy old man”.
“I’m not Fox”.
“Then stop acting like him”, Stone groans, and looks away for a second with a face that would have been funny if you weren’t trying to convince him you were okay. “Anyway, I need your help with my hair?”
That gets him to look at you again, this time with wide eyes.
“I’m not a hairstylist”.
“I know, I just want you to comb it”, you explain, and then his eyes suddenly notice the comb in your hand.
He stares at it for a second or two and then at you.
“I can’t lift my arm enough to do it myself”, you explain again, trying to demonstrate that, effectively, you can’t lift your arm without pain happening, mainly because there is a nasty bruise on your shoulder.
You two had a nasty day on a diplomatic mission and the whole thing was something you don’t actually want to remember, at least not while the bruises and cuts were still fresh.
“Please”, you add, seeing that Stone is really contemplating the whole situation like it was a big decision to make.
He sighs at the end, moving to a sit on the edge of the cot before rolling his eyes.
“Alright, I guess”.
You smile and before he can regret the whole thing, you’re sitting on the floor, with your back to him while he holds the comb and stares at your hair like it’s a nasty Hutt.
He sighs again before you feel his fingers brush with your curly hair. It's damp and recently washed so you’ll hate to leave it a kriffing mess.
“Can I start?”, he asks, and you chuckle.
“Been waiting for ages”.
You feel him rolling his eyes before you feel the comb getting in your hair.
He is gentle with the detangling, which takes you aback.
Stone is a soldier, his hands are calloused and rough, full of scars. He got his name for his stony attitude and seriousness in and outside of the job. You know that he likes to tease and tone down the seriousness from time to time, but it was only with his vode and the shinies.
Outside of the people he considered family, he was just a kriffing clone commander with a stick through his ass that won’t even bend a rule for the kriffing Chancellor.
The fact that he gently detangles every knot in your hair makes you remember the childhood you didn’t have, the home you didn’t remember, and the family you never truly met.
It reminds you of all those times you could be in this same position with your mother, in front of a warm fire on what you know it’s your home planet.
The nostalgia for something that has never happened, makes you close your eyes and enjoy the gentleness he is offering, even when you know he deserves it more than you.
Your bruised body then relaxes, and you sigh, imagining this was an everyday thing, even when, deep in your heart, you knew it was all a lie. You were a Jedi, he was a clone commander, and blah, blah, blah. Yet that didn’t mean you couldn’t imagine it, that you couldn’t have a kind of big ass crush on Stone.
That didn’t mean you couldn’t be friends.
Your body relaxes too much, and your fantasies take you too deep, but you don’t realize it until you’re falling to the side because you fell asleep.
Strong calloused hands stop you and you open your eyes to the sound of a very familiar chuckle.
“Someone is falling asleep”, he mocks while you blink several times to stabilize yourself.
“Shut up”, you say, trying to go back to sitting up and acting like nothing ever happened.
Stone chuckles again, brushing his thumb on your shoulder for a moment or two before he returned to your head.
“I’m almost finished”, he announces, while he starts combing your hair again. “You can go back to sleeping if you want”.
And he has a mocking tone to it, but you let it pass with a simple hum.
You fight to keep your eyes open, but it’s a battle you lose in the end.
When you open your eyes again, you’re in a soft place and something is snoring beside you.
It’s a familiar snore and you know exactly who it belongs to.
“Nuhoy, Bandages”, he murmurs, and you chuckle.
He snuggles close and you sigh.
Yeah, you could still be friends.
Very good friends.
A couple of good friends.