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Morning has long since dawned and passed on by. Afternoon has come and gone.
Cal doesn’t care that he’s essentially wasted the day in bed, legs tangled with Bode’s, the other man’s warmth lulling him into dozes that slip into full-on sleep, and then he’s waking up again with lips on his and a hand stroking his side, only for it to cycle all over again.
It’s the kind of lazy day he used to dream of back when all he knew were backbreaking shifts and Bracca’s cold rain, the burn of a blaster bolt searing his skin and dirt under his nails, propaganda reels echoing in his ears.
Cal rubs his cheek on Bode’s shoulder, scratching his stubble over warm skin, and listens to Bode huff a sleepy sound. He smiles unguardedly as he turns his head and kisses his shoulder, dragging his lips from beauty mark to beauty mark, pausing to linger on the puckered scorch mark of the blaster bolt that knocked Bode down. Cal laves his tongue over the textured scar even though he knows Bode doesn’t have much feeling there. The time between injury and bacta was too long, the burn too deep.
The hand in his hair shifts, the fingers curl and tighten around a fistful, tugging gently. Eyes flick up to watch Bode through his eyelashes. Watch his eyebrows scrunch, his nose twitch, his mouth curl into a half smile, and then his eyes open, sleepy and dark, meeting Cal’s unerringly.
Cal smirks as he scrapes his teeth gently around the edges of the blaster scar where ethe nerves are a little more alive. Bode shudders, arching up. The Force swells as the atmosphere goes from soft and lazy to something deeper, headier.
Not for the first time he feels relief, gratitude, that Bode is still here, is stroking the back of Cal’s neck, pressing down on knots of stress and hardship that have been plaguing him for days now.
He splays a hand on Bode’s stomach to brace himself as he shifts to lean over him, bypassing his nipple completely much to Bode’s displeasure, to give attention to the second shot. The one he took when Bode still wouldn’t stop. It’s a miracle he lived. A miracle they got to have this second chance.
Cal smooths his palms over his chest, cupping his pecs indulgently, pressing a thigh between his legs, and he kisses the second blaster scar tenderly, feels Bode’s breathing hitch under his lips.
“Cal,” Bode murmurs, voice thick, the Force pressing in.
He hums in acknowledgement as he lavishes Bode with attention. Bode squirms under him, letting out these little breathless noises that are somewhere in the vicinity of Cal’s name. Cal leans up to kiss his jaw, mouths at his throat where he can feel Bode swallow, and works his way back down, intending on slipping under the covers and lower, but he pauses one more time at second blaster shot, closing his eyes to savor Bode’s heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest and –
“Cal.”
And tastes blood.
His eyes fly open as he jerks back in surprise.
Bode stares back, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth, spraying when he opens his mouth in a frantic breath, chest heaving as his lungs fill with moremoremore blood. There’s a familiar sound, short and sharp, heat fizzing past his cheek. And then another, burning hot. Bode writhes as the scars on his chest and shoulder burst open and bleed freely, staining their bed red.
Cal folds his palms over the one on Bode’s chest, applying pressure that won’t work. “No,” he whimpers. “No. No. This isn’t – .” His hand is drenched in blood as he reaches to cup Bode’s cheek, thumbing over tear tracks. “Please. Please. Stop.”
The Force presses in unrelentingly as Bode whines a broken “scrapper,” his eyes wide and wild.
“Please, let me have this,” Cal sobs. Bode flails in death throes he didn’t get the first time. Fear and panic make him heave for oxygen that isn’t there. Fighting to stay with Cal as opposed to quiet resignation from before. Bode grips his wrist, nails digging into his pulse point. “Just – Just let me have this.”
The Force squeezes.
Bode chokes. Goes still. His grip loosens then falls away, head lolling with empty, empty eyes. Warm blood seeps between his fingers. Cal lifts his hand, sitting back on Bode’s thighs, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“You said you’d stay,” he says shakily. “That wasn’t supposed to be a lie.” He reaches down, cradling Bode’s face with both hands, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip. “Bode, please. Come back.” He kisses him and tastes only blood, Bode already growing cold. “Come back.”
“ – Cal.”
Cal jerks awake, tears on his cheeks. The bed is cold. He’s alone. He sits up, wiping his face, and squints through the dim light to see Merrin at the doorway. She stares at him, expression unreadable where it’s cast in shadow.
“Are you alright?” she asks softly.
He looks away. Looks at the empty spot next to him where the echo of Bode’s sleepy laughter has faded and grown cold. Cal touches the spot, just to hear it one more time no matter how faint it is, and covers his face with his free hand, shoulders shaking.
“Oh, Cal.”
She sits next to him, arm wrapped around his shoulders in comfort, as Cal mourns what could have been.