Work Text:
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To say they had their work cut out for them would be an understatement.
The decommissioned battleship that Echo and Rex had managed to find to expand their operation has certainly seen its better days. Carbon scoring mars the exterior, and there’s a laundry list of tasks to complete before the engine is fit to fly. In reality, while all these repairs have been going on, the ship’s interior has been serving as a glorified barracks for Rex, Echo, and their transient contacts.
“The work I’ve done is inside,” Echo explained, rolling his eyes at Rex’s skeptical frown. “Come on.”
The two men travel up the gangplank and into the cargo hold of the ship, which is—thankfully—unoccupied, at the moment.
Crates of blasters and MREs lay half-empty around the room, but Echo walks straight past them—directly to where the crew’s absent mechanic has set up a small workshop.
Though calling it a “workshop,” even now, seems generous—a desk welded together from scraps of sheet metal bends in an awkward shape across the crate she uses as her stool when she tinkers away here. Tools of every shape and size hang haphazardly from ridges in the wall of the hull, and shoved into the corner as everything is, it’s a struggle for the eyes to pick up on any finer details. That, Echo has assumed, is why the mechanic is never seen here without her headlamp.
Echo halts his gait at last, gesturing to the new switch affixed to the wall beside the odd mess.
“Here,” he explains, giving the contraption a flick—and just like that, tubes of warm white light illuminate overhead, casting the workshop in a clear glow.
Rex stands back, arms folded as he nods in appreciation.
“Do you think she’ll… Wait, there’s one more—” Echo flips a second switch, and the color of the lighting fixture changes in an instant.
Rex chuckles. “You don’t think you went maybe a bit… Overboard? ”
Echo frowns, at this.
“You… Don’t think she’ll like it.”
Startled by his brother’s suddenly dour tone, Rex turns to analyze Echo’s dejected expression. The man’s dark eyes are downcast in pensive thought—and it’s then, perhaps, that some bit of understanding finally clicks into place for Rex at last.
He smiles, offering Echo a pat on the shoulder.
“I think she’ll love it.”
- - - - -
You look over both shoulders before hastily keying in the code to the garage door. You’ve had this gig for nearly a year, but time has not succeeded in making you lackadaisical about safety.
Rex made sure of it.
With your box of newly-acquired spare parts pressed against one hip, you use the other to nudge the door open into the dimly-lit hangar. It’s well into the night, and with a crew as small as yours, it’s not like you were expecting it to be bustling with activity anyway.
Even still—
“Hello?” You call out tentatively.
A few seconds of silence pass, and then:
“Uh… Hello. Ma’am.” From one of the ramshackle tables by the radio office, Echo rises to his feet to greet you with an awkward wave.
Your dear, sweet Echo.
Rex brought him back from Coruscant almost four months ago with little more than a brief comm heralding the new arrival. You can admit, now, that working with such a small and secretive crew had made you initially hesitant to warm up to the new recruit… But once you got to know Echo—his affinity for all things mechanical, his unwavering desire to do good—the two of you became fast friends.
In truth, the clone has squeezed his way past your own hard-as-durasteel exterior with somewhat-terrifying ease…
…And yet, he still insists on calling you “ma’am.” It’s strangely endearing in a way that makes that warm thing in your chest hum in satisfaction.
“Echo,” you smile back at last. “I thought everybody would’ve hit the hay by now. But not you, huh?”
He clears his throat, striking you as uncharacteristically nervous. You quirk an eyebrow as he responds.
“Well I was actually waiting. For, um. For you.”
“Oh, Echo,” you frown. “Scomp giving you trouble ag—?”
“No, no! Nothing… Nothing like that.” He laughs sheepishly, and some of your own tension dissipates. “I want to show you something. Come on.”
Undeniably intrigued, you set the box of spare parts down on the table as you move to join him. Echo flashes you a cryptic smile back over his shoulder before he heads to the gangplank of the ship.
“You know, if you wanted a moment alone together, you only had to ask,” you tease in your usual way, immensely pleased by the color that floods Echo’s cheeks at the implication.
“Do you always have to be so…” He scoffs, sentence trailing off as he begins leading you back to the cargo hold.
“Charming?” You venture.
He shakes his head; when he risks a sidelong glance at you, you flash him a wink.
“Here,” he stops at last at… Your workshop.
It’s a mess, yes, but you quite enjoy the term “organized chaos.” Out of habit, you flick on your headlamp to look down at the navigational computer chips that lie in quite a state upon the desk.
“No, look… Here .” Echo grabs your hand with his own, and the unexpected contact surprises a barely-audible gasp from you.
Gently, he guides your hand over to…
A pair of switches? When did those get there?
Your eyes follow the wiring where it disappears toward the ceiling as you flick the first one on…
And suddenly find your workspace bathed in clear light.
A laugh of delighted surprise bubbles up out of you.
“Echo!” You exclaim, grinning up at the new fixtures. “This is wonderful! You certainly didn’t have to—”
“And you should, um. Try the second one.” There’s something boyishly eager in his smile that makes your heart flutter; you readily oblige.
Switching the first light off, you turn on the second—and are greeted by a brilliant, cotton candy pink colored glow. It casts its ethereal glow off your hands, off Echo’s armor, in the reflection of his dark eyes. Together, you smile up at the light.
“But why…?” Your next laugh is a little breathless.
“Because I’ve seen the way you look at the lights of the city at night.” At Echo’s words, your gaze falls to him; you’re met by warm-caf eyes already searching your face for understanding. “I thought you might like some of that, uh… Color in here. When you’re just relaxing, or… You know. Just because.”
Your heart feels fit to burst from your chest… Echo, your Echo, sweet and observant and always working to help others.
A low chuckle escapes the man before you, and after leaning in a bit, he reaches up to shut off the headlamp you wear.
But his hand lingers, there… At your temple, just above your cheek.
You move to cover it with one of your own.
“Echo…” Your voice sounds weak, breathing shallow. He looks like a painting, like this, all bright colors and sharp lines and expressive eyes. “This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.”
“You’re an important member of the squad,” Echo explains, his voice gone a little rough at the edges. “And what you do is important.”
He can’t just keep saying things like that; it’s too much for you to bear. With a single step, you close what little distance remained between you. If you were to take a deep breath, your chest would lay flush against his.
It’s a risk you’re willing to take.
“And I’m important…” You swallow thickly. “To you? ”
Echo’s dark eyes go soft and pleading; his thumb traces the line of your cheekbone with aching reverence.
“You know that you are—”
It’s all you need to hear before you’re kissing him.
Seemingly startled by the sudden contact, Echo stumbles backward to sit on the crate beside your desk… Which is just as well, in the end: you move to straddle his lap, your hands caressing the sharp lines of his jaw as he sighs into you.
…But maybe this is reckless. You should’ve—
All thoughts along that line of thinking quickly flee your mind, however, when Echo seems to regain awareness of himself. He reaches behind you, using both hand and prosthetic to press against your lower back and bring you as flush to him as your bodies will allow. Taking yet another calculated risk, you part your lips, allowing him the opportunity to deepen the kiss—and he readily accepts. A low groan rumbles from his chest as you feel gloved fingers rise to lace through your hair.
When at last you part for air, you’re both drinking it in through ragged gasps, and your states of mutual dishevelment surprise laughter from you both.
“I’ve… Thought about doing that more than I’d care to admit,” he chuckles, low and dark.
“Well, I’m all yours now, Echo,” you murmur, smiling through the kiss you plant along his jaw. Your words tickle breath across his skin. “Like I said—you only ever had to ask.”