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The shadows are starting to grow long over Pau City when Boil leads his platoon back to the base of command. The Utapau capital is finally secure after a long couple days of fighting, and Boil is still trying to adjust to the fact that General Grievous is dead after so many hard-fought battles.
It feels like a turning point. He can hear it in Cody’s voice when Boil reports in to him - his commander is as steady and focused as ever, but there’s something else there, a quiet chord of hope that Boil hasn’t heard in his voice before. Boil leaves with orders to get his men resupplied and rested. He spots General Kenobi on his way back out to his platoon - he’s dusty and bruised, but gives Boil a reassuring smile as he heads into the command tent.
Boil’s men are milling around nearby, a few of them sitting on some unpacked crates. His platoon has thankfully come through the battle with only a couple of injuries, and even though they’ve been going nonstop for the last couple of days, no one seems completely drained yet. Boil’s not sure if that’s just because they’ve seen much worse in the past, or if it’s because everyone can feel the electric charge in the air, like something has changed.
He automatically searches for Waxer amongst the groups of brothers outside, though it makes sense that his platoon would’ve received the same orders and headed off to resupply and rest. And he does know that Waxer’s okay, he heard Waxer’s platoon check in with only a few non-fatal casualties over the command comms, but… he needs to see him.
Boil leads his men out past the command tents and towards one of the many hangars that they’ve been using as impromptu storage. The hangars look as if they’re built out of the bones of some kind of giant aquatic creature, and they make Boil feel a little uneasy, as if he’s about to be swallowed by something. There are brothers everywhere, headed this way and that with crates and hoversleds full of tibanna cartridges and medical supplies. Many are 212th brothers, probably assigned to help with restocking and medtent set-up now that the hostilities have mostly ceased and the city is secure.
Strafe spots Waxer’s platoon first, gathered around next to one of the hangars. He rushes over to meet his batchmate Stance. A couple of the newer brothers in Boil’s platoon tilt their heads at each other, but Boil just gestures ahead. A lot of the brothers between Waxer and Boil’s platoons are good friends, and they eagerly go ahead of Boil to greet them.
At first Boil doesn’t spot Waxer in the crowd of white and gold, and a slight thrill of alarm goes down his spine, but he finally spots a familiar helmet inside the hangar next to a supply vehicle. Waxer’s turned away from them, talking with a newer member of his platoon who Boil can’t quite recognize at this angle, but Boil would know Waxer anywhere. Something tight eases in Boil’s chest once he finally has eyes on Waxer, a familiar sense of relief that shudders through him almost violently.
Not today. Not yet.
Waxer turns at the sound of chatter from Boil’s platoon, and Boil can tell when Waxer sees him at a distance. He straightens, and Boil can see the slight eager lean of his body as if he’s trying to resist walking towards Boil, the way he tilts his bucket at Boil in silent question. Boil nods back - he’s okay.
Waxer’s platoon has already located the resupply of rations and are handing out some to Boil’s men as they chat. Boil hears some snippets of conversation as he passes by, including one brother who supposedly heard the first-hand account of another brother who saw part of General Kenobi’s fight with Grievous. And Boil does want to hear that story at some point, but he signs a quick ‘take five’ to his SIC Rev and heads past them into the hangar.
As he gets closer, he hears Waxer’s shiny (Boil thinks his name is Dar) give a relieved-sounding “Yes sir!” and turn to head towards the men outside. He stops short and straightens to attention when he sees Boil, who quickly waves an ‘at ease’ sign and lets him get back to his squad. Once Dar is out of earshot, Boil tilts his head at Waxer in question.
“Just showing him how to fix a cartridge jam,” Waxer tells him with a one-armed shrug.
Boil pauses for a beat, then asks “Kid had a rough day?”
Waxer’s talent ever since he got promoted to a command position has been to spot brothers who are struggling and approach them in an innocent way by helping them with something unrelated, and then coax them into talking about what’s bothering them. He’s impressively good at it.
Waxer sighs. “Spry took a blaster bolt to the shoulder. He’s alive, but we’re not sure what the extent of the damage is. He’s Dar’s only squadmate left after Umbara, so… it shook Dar pretty badly.”
Boil knows the feeling more intimately than he’d care to admit. He takes a few more steps forward and circles his hand around Waxer’s wrist. Waxer grasps his wrist in return, squeezing hard. They’ve both gotten good at hiding it, but it hasn’t gotten easier to see brothers get hurt or killed under their command.
“But we were pretty lucky otherwise,” Waxer goes on after a moment. He tilts his bucket at Boil expectantly.
Boil nods back. “We were, too - Tack and Stub got knocked into a wall by a mortar blast but they weren’t very close, just some bruised ribs.”
He can see Waxer’s shoulders relax - they look after each other’s platoons as if they were their own, so it’s relieving to hear that injuries are so few. All things considered, they both had a good couple of days.
Leaning back against the supply vehicle, Waxer removes his helmet. He gives Boil a little smile, and for a moment Boil’s quite certain that he won’t be able to resist ripping his own bucket off and leaning in for a kiss, even though they generally keep that to when they’re off-duty. Instead, they both glance to the side as they hear a ripple of laughter from their men nearby. Boil can see the one who claimed to have the full tale of Grievous’ defeat in the center. The others are relaxing on the ground or leaning against hoversleds to listen, their body language ranging from enraptured to skeptical.
Boil turns to lean on the supply vehicle next to Waxer, removing his helmet as well. Waxer looks over at him and smiles again at the sight of Boil’s face, which never fails to make something flutter in Boil’s chest - anxiety and excitement and feelings Boil hasn’t wanted to name aloud.
“You heard anything more about what happened with Grievous?” Waxer asks him.
Boil shakes his head. “Just what went over the comms.” He nods at their mingled platoons, the storyteller’s excited voice still drifting over to them indistinctly. “Maybe we should ask, he seems to have the details.”
Waxer chuckles. “Bryer heard some scuttlebutt while I was reporting to command and he’s been spreading it around ever since. It gets longer and more dramatic every time he tells it.” Waxer pauses for a long moment.
“It… it feels different, doesn’t it? Like… this is going to change things?”
Waxer’s voice is soft with tentative hope and something Boil can’t quite pin down. When Boil glances at him, Waxer’s looking down at his bucket, but when Boil doesn’t reply right away Waxer looks up at him.
“Yeah,” Boil finally says. “Yeah, I mean… that’s a whole pillar of the Seppie leadership gone, not to mention Utapau is out of their hands again. It’s good progress.”
And good riddance, too. They’ve lost far too many brothers to Grievous over the course of the war. Boil feels a little spark of satisfaction that the general finally made Grievous pay for it.
Waxer just nods beside him. Rather than picking up their conversation, Waxer leans to the side a little to press their spaulders together. He’s not usually this quiet, even after a couple of long days of fighting - and especially after such a big victory.
Boil can see that Waxer’s gone back to staring down at his bucket in his hands. Boil follows Waxer’s gaze and realizes that he’s looking at the little painted picture of Numa. Waxer runs his thumb over the scuffed paint - it’s been a little while since they’ve had time to re-touch their armor. He remembers the day they finally managed to get a hold of some green paint - he suspects General Kenobi had something to do with it - and how excited Waxer had been to finally put Numa’s face on their buckets like they’d talked about. And Boil had been excited too, but not in the same way Waxer was. Even though Waxer’s never really said it out loud, painting Numa’s face seemed more like a symbol of hope to him - that maybe, someday, there was a possibility they could see her again. To Boil, Numa’s little face on his bucket was more of a memorial, a remembrance of the little girl they luckily got to meet but would more than likely never see again.
But now… now, they’ve never been so close. And they both know it.
As much as Boil has scoffed at Waxer in the past over ideas of what they might do after the war, or even the idea that they would make it through the war at all, Boil’s realized over these last few hard months that he’s relied more on Waxer’s optimism than he’d previously wanted to admit. Because now that it’s close enough to feel like a possibility rather than a spice dream, Boil’s terrified.
After everything they’ve been through, to finally feel like victory might be on the horizon… it’s more than Boil’s usually dared to hope for, because he never really believed that both of them would even make it this far in the first place. They’ve both had a long, incredible streak of luck, and today, they’d been lucky again - but will that luck hold until the war is truly over? Despite the palpable excitement in the air today, despite the fact that they’re closer than they’ve ever been to seeing the end of this, it’s tough for Boil to get his hopes up. There’s a small, dark voice inside him that always whispers that as soon as he does, that’s when something will happen to him - or worse, to Waxer.
Taking everything one day at a time has always been easier than trying to hope for a future they likely wouldn’t see, but little by little over the years, Waxer’s cheerful enthusiasm has pulled Boil in. Some days, it’s so tempting to imagine what it could be like after. They could go where they want to go, maybe visit some of the beautiful places they’ve marveled at in holos. They could go back to Ryloth and see Numa again, and to see her town when it’s not torn by war. They could do what they want - Waxer was the first one to even suggest to Boil that they could learn how to do something other than being soldiers, if they wanted. And… it heats Boil’s face every time he thinks about it, but he’s always secretly wondered what it would be like to get a private room somewhere, shut the rest of the galaxy out, and just spend the entire day in bed with Waxer.
And even if that kind of freedom isn’t in the stars for them, Boil would settle for a future where they don’t have to watch their brothers die anymore, where Boil wouldn’t always have to worry that each day could be the last day he gets to see Waxer.
These are thoughts that Boil only lets float into his mind occasionally, and he rarely speaks them out loud. ‘After the war’ is something most brothers don’t talk about - some claim it’s bad luck. Even Waxer, for all his bright optimism, doesn’t bring it up lightly, but that never stopped him from looking ahead. Boil never quite understood how Waxer could see everything going on around them, happening to them, and still see reason to hope for better. He doesn’t understand how Waxer could go through the same things Boil had and still be so willing to still look forward, to be so… unafraid. And yet, as much as Waxer sometimes mystified him, Boil’s fairly certain that he couldn’t have gotten this far without Waxer’s ability to hope beyond all reason.
Looking at Waxer’s pensive gaze down at his bucket, Boil wonders suddenly if… deep down, Waxer’s just as afraid as he is. Especially now when they’ve come so far, but still aren’t out of the Seppie’s line of fire yet.
Reaching out, Boil puts his hand over Waxer’s where it’s resting against his bucket. Waxer looks up at him curiously, but lets Boil takes his hand and interlace their fingers. Boil squeezes Waxer’s hand, and Waxer squeezes back. Shifting his bucket under his arm, Waxer tilts his head against Boil’s, pressing their temples together.
“Yeah, this… this is going to change things.” he says softly, though whether it’s in agreement with Boil or an attempt at reassuring himself, Boil’s not completely sure.
Boil nods a little against him. Sometimes it almost feels like it’s been written into their DNA, to the point that even Waxer’s optimism can’t always escape it - the instinct against hoping for things they’re not supposed to have. But that hasn’t stopped the cautious, tremulous hope that Boil’s felt from his brothers all day, the hope that he knows they’re all feeling but hardly dare to speak aloud - the kind of hope that Waxer’s steadily given him almost since the day they met.
“Sometimes I didn’t think we’d…” Waxer starts, and then stops. He’s holding on to Boil’s hand very tightly. Boil’s heart squeezes at the uncertainty and outright fear in Waxer’s voice.
Waxer has spoken hope into him before, even at times when neither of them should’ve had any reason to hope for anything better. Even in the aftermath of Umbara, when Waxer himself barely escaped being a casualty of his own brothers’ blasters, Waxer had held Boil close and whispered reassurances to him, as if it was him and not Waxer whose life had nearly been taken that day. It seems to come so easily to Waxer that even Boil sometimes forgets how hard it can be to keep up hope like that, day after day, and how easy it still is to slip into despair over all the things that could still go wrong. Even though Boil still feels like he can’t be sure of anything, he aches to reassure Waxer.
Pushing away from the hull of the supply vehicle, Boil lets his bucket drop to the ground and turns so he’s standing in front of Waxer.
Waxer looks up at him, eyes wide and searching, his face lit up in the beams of the afternoon light slanting through the hangar’s strange pillars. Meeting Waxer’s gaze, affection swells up inside Boil until it feels like his chest is going to burst. Boil reaches up to gently cup his hands along Waxer’s jaw and leans in to kiss him. Waxer lets out a soft, pleased hum, reaching a hand up to rest along the side of Boil’s neck. Boil slides his tongue into Waxer's mouth, and Waxer’s bucket slips from under his arm to the ground with a dull clatter. Their boots scuff against each other as they press closer. Waxer hooks the fingers of his other hand around Boil’s spaulder, holding tight.
They pull back, Waxer letting out a soft gasp that ghosts over Boil’s lips. Boil lets his hands drop to Waxer’s hips, meeting Waxer’s eyes. He doesn’t always have the words for things like this, but for Waxer, who never gave up on him, he’ll always try.
“We made it through today,” Boil tells him softly. “We’ll make it through tomorrow, too.”
Boil watches Waxer’s expression shift from surprise to affection to determination, and Waxer gives him a watery smile.
“Y-yeah,” he says, hand sliding down from Boil’s spaulder to his rerebrace, pressing fingers into the space between Boil’s armor plates. “We’ll make it through tomorrow, too,” he repeats, smiling even as his eyes shine in the afternoon light.
Lips quirking up in an answering smile, Boil leans in again, and Waxer lifts his head to meet him. They’ve only been kissing for another few moments when Boil notices that their platoons have gone suspiciously quiet. Opening an eye and glancing to the side, Boil catches at least a couple of brothers’ heads whipping back around.
Boil shakes his head, and Waxer laughs against his lips, pulling Boil in for another kiss before he pushes off the supply vehicle and leans down to retrieve his bucket. Boil does the same, trying to steer his mind away from stray thoughts of slowly stripping off the rest of Waxer’s armor so that he can focus again.
Their buckets retrieved, Boil’s about to turn back towards their men when Waxer takes his hand. Giving it a gentle squeeze, Waxer gives him a grateful smile. Feeling warmth spread through him, Boil just nods in return before they both put their buckets back on. Turning with Waxer beside him, Boil feels reassured - even with more challenges ahead of them, they’ll see tomorrow together.