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Shark almost didn’t stop. A nattie brawl wasn’t something she wanted to get herself involved in, and she had been shuffled over to maintenance when she got transferred to the Guard for a reason, but then she caught the flash of Corrie red in the middle of the group.
Shark snarled, baring its teeth in the almost smile that gave it its name. Some of the natties turned at the noise, and when they saw her, decanted almost as big as an Alpha and just as angry, some of them had the good sense to vanish.
Most of them did not.
The fight was dirty and brutal and Shark was glad for its armour because against natties the armour turned it from a brutal war machine to an unstoppable one.
She cleared the alley in moments, slamming natties aside and chucking them into the street without care, more and more of them fleeing as she went, to find the vod curled up on their side on the ground. Clearly they had dropped at some point after Shark had arrived and hadn’t been able to get back up.
Very few Corries had identifying marks on their armour, it was safer that way, so it put the scan up on its HUD, and did a life signs and ID check.
The ID check came back first as Shark dropped to her knees beside the vod. It was Whiplash, and its heart climbed into its throat.
Whiplash was a gentle vod. Sure, they had a hard name and played hard drums and had a fondness for punching clankers, as Shark had learnt from their batch mates, but they also pet stray tookas and played with the Guard Mastiffs, and for some reason the stars only knew had latched on to Shark and her friends hard.
Even though Shark didn’t understand it, Whiplash had become one of its chosen vode too, and Shark wasn’t going to let them go without a fight.
So she let the scan finish its check, they were badly injured, but their spine was fine and there was nothing Shark could do anything about even if she had the tools, so she scooped them up and took off at a run. Medics were the only thing that was going to make it better.
Whiplash woke up. They felt air on their face and immediately their eyes flew open. If someone had taken off their bucket…but they weren’t in the alley or somewhere else on a lower level, left to die by an unforgiving crowd.
They stared up at a deckhead, a ceiling that could only be somewhere in the Corrie barracks.
“You’re safe.” Clemency, the CMO, leaned over Whiplash. “You’ve got a couple of broken ribs and some serious bruises. You’re probably going to have to spend a cycle or two off duty if we can make it happen, and light duty for a week at least. But you’ll be okay.”
“How?” Whiplash rasped. Everything tasted like blood and they felt like they had swallowed a mouthful of sand.
“Shark brought you in.” Clemency nodded towards the end of the bed and Whiplash followed the indication to see Shark’s head resting against the cot. It was asleep, sat upright on the floor. “She hasn’t left since.”
Whiplash blinked dumbly up at Clemency. They knew that Shark liked them, but they had weaselled their way into its friend group and its band and surely that didn’t result in this kind of response. Kindness among the Corries was common but small. Carrying a vod to medbay was one thing, waiting for them to wake up was another, reserved only for the closest of vode.
“Get some rest.” Clemency patted their hand. “I’ll be back in a little bit to get some more fluids into you.”
Whiplash blinked an acknowledgment and Clemency wandered off.
They turned their gaze back to Shark. Bruises danced along her temples where she, like Whiplash, must have been struck in the fight. The visor was a common target for blows because eyes were, but the visor took enough abuse before it shattered to deter most.
Whiplash traced the shape of its brow with their eyes. They had no trouble admitting to finding Shark beautiful, though they were still keeping their crush close to their chest.
Shark suddenly jolted forward and then looked up, the same momentary panic Whiplash had felt in her eyes.
“Hey.” It whispered, scooting forward towards Whiplash. “How’re you feeling?”
Whiplash thought about that for a second. They ached all over, and they had some broken bones that they would have to heal the good old fashioned way, bacta supplies being what they were, but they had had worse. And they weren’t dead.
“Okay.” They whispered back. “Y’okay?”
Shark smiled a little bit at that, though Whiplash wasn’t sure why.
“I’m okay. Promise. You put up enough of a fight that even the ones who stayed weren’t much of a challenge.”
Whiplash snorted. They hadn’t done a good job, still shiny enough as a Corrie to get overwhelmed by them. But they knew how to throw a punch and they still had their reinforced gloves from their last battalion, and that had to count for something.
She reached up and cupped Whiplash’s jaw and something in their brain short-circuited. Its hand was warm and rough and it stroked a thumb along Whiplash’s cheekbone.
“Don’t talk shit about yourself vod.” She said. “It’s not an easy switch.”
Whiplash nodded, blinking away tears. They had left their batchers behind on Kamino and with the 37th Scouts and some of them marched on and they didn’t know if Shark had any batchers left, but this was batcher kindness. Or maybe squadmate kindness. Not just barracks kindness.
“Why’re you still here?” They hadn’t meant to the words to slip out, plaintive and lost, but they had, and they hung in the air between the two of them. Shark looked like it had just caught a stunner to the chest.
“You’re one of mine.” She said shortly, as though it should have been obvious. “I wouldn’t leave Lemon or Lime to face medbay alone either.”
“Oh.”
Shark frowned at Whiplash. They hadn’t known. It thought they had.
“You’re mine.” She repeated. “I love you Whip.”
“Oh.” They whispered again. “I love you too.”