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Wolffe leans his back against the boxing ring and fiddles with the lacing on his right glove. He got in last night and thought an early morning session might be the right thing to get him back on Coruscant time. The gym at HQ is always busy to a certain degree but a lot of troopers tend to use the early morning hours to sleep in when they can.
Not today, though. Wolffe scoffs and shakes his head at the howling laughter wafting over from the gym mats. The 501st and the 212th touched down just two hours ago and, of course, they’re all too hyped up to go the fuck to bed. So, a group of about ten troopers has descended upon the gym and Wolffe’s nerves. He was surprised to see Cody and Rex among them. He nodded good morning and went about his training routine - until the high kicks and the twirls started.
He got distracted by the cheering and clapping (and the occasional booing) and decided to see if he can wait them out. Now he’s sitting on the edge of the boxing ring, watching a bunch of troopers do acrobatics that are usually reserved for Jedi. Only, clones can’t rely on the Force to propel them several meters into the air - they have to work hard for it.
Wolffe doesn’t claim to understand the appeal. He’s more a fan of the basics: two guys, two pairs of gloves, and straight-forward hits. Not this… gymnastics shit. There is too much flourish, too much extra spins, and definitely too much ego for Wolffe’s taste. And they’re not even sparring. They’re just taking turns doing insane spins in mid-air, and high kicks coming out of a series of full body flips. They’re just one-upping each other with ever more sophisticated moves. But Wolffe will admit, it does look cool.
The group erupts in a flurry of excitement when Cody takes the floor, where he bows theatrically. Wolffe rests his hands on the glove in his lap and watches. This should be good. He’s never seen Cody do any of these fake fighting acrobatics before. He’s seen Cody do actual acrobatics on the battlefield, but never anything just for fun.
He does a few backflips, presumably to warm up. The crowd seems somewhat displeased, judging by the raspberries blown in Cody’s direction. Cody makes a placating motion and confidently walks to the corner of the mat. Wolffe refuses to admit that it is fascinating to see Cody jump into a spin that takes him at least three meters into the air from a standing position. Wolffe’s eye waters as he tries to count the number of spins Cody manages to get in before he touches back down on the mat. He could let his cybernetic eye slow it down but that feels like cheating. It’s much more fun to guess. Four? Five? Who cares when Cody doesn’t even spend a fraction of a second on solid ground and immediately pushes himself off into a series of spin kicks that could take out a whole troop of clankers if applied in earnest.
Cody’s entourage hollers in appreciation. He laughs and gives Waxer a high-five. Wolffe snorts at the way Rex slaps Cody’s ass in passing as they trade positions on the mat. This is probably the only place and circumstance where something like this is allowed. Personally, Wolffe would order him into the ring for that, to see if he can back up that bravado up some muscle but Cody is a bit more lenient. He always is with Rex. So, Cody merely rubs his butt and makes an ’I’m watching you’ gesture towards Rex.
Rex, for his part, laughs loud enough for the whole gym to hear. He is in good spirits when he starts to shuffle his bare feet. Wolffe is pretty sure he has seen this in some non-sentient species. It’s a mocking dance and it’s going to blow up in Rex’s face if he’s not careful. His fellow troopers from the 501st hype him up with a chorus of whoops and friendly banter aimed at their brothers from the 212th.
Cody makes a dismissive gesture but that only spurs Rex on. He crosses the entire breadth of the mat in a series of backflips that make it look like he doesn’t even touch the ground once. Somewhere in the middle he spins twice in mid-air. He lands perfectly on his feet like a freaking tooka.
Rex takes a deep bow in the face of frenetic applause from his men. Meanwhile, Cody steps up to the mat on the opposite side and does the exact same sequence - only he actually walks upside down during his middle flip. He is positively suspended in the air for what feels like multiple seconds before he comes back down, landing right by Rex’s side.
Wolffe sits up. Despite himself, he finds himself interested in what’s going to happen next. Rex starts with a series of spin kicks that speak of a blatant disregard for gravity. For a few moments, it seems as if time just stops for him and he can take all the time he needs to arrange his limbs as needed. But it’s a trick. His movements are so precise he might as well cut the air with his bare feet. That gives him an extra second or so to get some even more ridiculous moves in.
But he’s not alone; Cody joins him with barely a moment’s delay, matching his movements beat for beat like a shadow detached from its owner. They laugh, loud and carefree, once Cody lands beside him. Their audience claps wildly.
And then they do it in tandem. Any onlookers of non-clone persuasion might ask if they have practiced this before or have agreed on a certain sequence of spin-kick-flips, but Wolffe knows that’s just how they are. They can feel the other by their side and know instinctively which way to turn, either to mirror or to mimic. It’s annoying; and also impressive.
They both land at the exact same time, except they somehow managed to turn the synchronized performance mid-flip into a mirror dance, which sent them in opposite directions. They walk back towards each other, meeting in the middle of the mat, where Cody flings his arm around Rex’s sweaty shoulders and plants a kiss on his head.
Wolffe can’t help but smile. Softies. But it’s good to see them having fun.
There is a great deal of murmuring amongst the group and Wolffe notices some of them are packing up. He is almost disappointed that the show is over. Cody jogs up to him, sweat dripping from the tips of his hair. He’s barefoot, his training shoes dangling from his hand.
“Sorry for the commotion,” he apologizes. “I know you like your quiet.”
Wolffe shrugs while he redoes the lacing. “If this war ever ends you’ll have a future in the circus, that’s something.”
Cody smacks him with a terribly icky sock. “Shut up, I saw you watching.”
“I never said I wouldn’t buy a ticket.”