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It was getting close to sunset as you put the finishing touches on the meal you’d been preparing for Omega and the boys. They’d be back from their “family beach day” soon.
You checked the roast in the oven, deciding it needed just a little more time, then you go to the cupboard to get dishes out to set the table.
You’d just finished placing the plates on the table when the door opened. You smiled.
“Hey honey,” you called as you started over to greet your love.
“ Mesh’la ,” his smoky voice answered, though you noticed a little strain.
“Everything okay?” you asked, but as you turned the corner towards the doorway, your question was answered for you.
He looked miserable, stiff, and from head to toe his usual sunkissed, golden skin was notably darker, and a little red. “I need bacta,” he groaned.
You stifled a chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart. Did you fall asleep out there again?”
He looked at you with those tooka eyes he broke out any time he was sick then nodded a little as he started to shuffle towards you.
The timer on the oven started beeping again. You gave him a pitying smile. “Get the bacta from the cabinet,” you instructed softly. “I’ll be right there.”
He grunted out a soft noise of agreement and you went back to the kitchen.
You could hear him digging around in the cabinet, grumbling mixes of basic and mando’a curses as you pulled dinner from the oven and set it to rest.
By the time you’d finished, he’d made it to the bedroom, his sandy clothes dropped near the laundry basket, and a jar of bacta gel was sitting next to where he collapsed–naked–onto the comforter.
“How you doing, honey?” you chuckled, noting the obvious tan lines at his hips and knees and the comparably lighter space between where his shorts had protected him from the sun.
“I feel like shit,” he said, the bedding beneath his face muffling his words.
You hummed in agreement, gently touching his arm to assess the damage. “Are you sure you want bacta right now? You’re gonna need quite a bit and you know it makes you sleepy.”
“Yes” he nearly whimpered.
“The boys aren’t going to go easy on you,” you warned, smirking.
Hunter groaned. “They’ve been mocking me all afternoon,” he whined. “Please, mesh’la ?”
“Alright, alright,” you laughed, picking up the bacta. “Hold still.”