Work Text:
Bode was waiting anxiously in the basement of Pyloon’s Saloon when the door hissed open, prompting him to stand as Cal stumbled in. Bode was just about to scold the younger man for being out so late when he registered the state the scrapper was in.
His shirt was in tatters, several bloodied wounds visible through the torn fabric. Bode thought he recognized the work of a vibro-blade and wondered how Cal, reckless yet vigilant, had managed to be caught off-guard by any of the Raiders that wandered the valley wielding those weapons.
“Scrapper…” Bode breathed, moving to assist the younger man when the sight of something metallic cradled in his arms stopped him.
BD was inactive, his scomp-link sparking where his leg had been bent and scorched. His larger optical lens was cracked and the top of his chassis had been scorched black by a blaster-bolt surely meant for the Jedi.
“Cal, what happened?” Bode questioned.
“We…got caught in the middle of a fight between Imps and Raiders.” Cal answered, his voice trembling with barely-suppressed emotion as he looked down at his crumpled companion, “I…wasn’t careful. BD got shot off my back by a stormtrooper because I was too busy holding off several commando droids and a super-battle droid. When I moved in to save him, they…almost got me.”
“The one day where it is most inconvenient for a stormtrooper to suddenly have good aim.” Bode growled.
“I…think I can fix him, though.” Cal said, “The damage just narrowly missed his vital circuits. If I can just---”
“He can wait,” Bode interrupted, stopping Cal with a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. “He’s not the one who could get an infection from open wounds, nor does he have the potential to bleed out. Let’s take care of you first.”
“But---”
“He’ll be fine, Scrapper.” Bode reassured him, “Besides, you don’t want him to see you like this. You know how he gets when you’re hurt.”
How I get when you’re hurt, Bode didn’t add, barely managing to tamp down the rearing wave of protectiveness he had only recently begun to feel for his mark.
Cal didn’t need to know of the blisters formed from hours of the mercenary’s anxious pacing as he waited for the redhead to return from missions and patrols. He didn’t need to know of the rusty taste of blood as Bode worried his lip and inner cheek with his teeth.
Bode couldn’t let himself go on every mission with Cal, lest he get attached and forget his mission.
“Fine,” Cal groaned. “Just…let me---”
“I’ll put him on the workbench.” Bode offered before he could finish, “Just take your shirt off and go lay down.”
“You sound so hot every time you say that.” Cal quipped.
“You’re delirious, Kestis.” Bode huffed in amusement, helping Cal over to his small bunk before taking BD from the scrapper’s arms and over to the workbench.
Collecting the small, unopened medkit from a shelf on the wall behind the workbench, Bode returned to Cal’s side, setting the kit down on the floor as he knelt beside the now-shirtless Jedi. Even bloodied and gashed, Bode found himself entranced by the contours of Cal’s chest and torso. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Bode retrieved the necessary bandages and disinfecting spray from the medkit.
“They got you good, Kestis.”
“Hey, we can’t all be perfect.” Cal joked, wincing as his weak chuckle aggravated his wounds.
“I thought you Jedi were the closest things to perfect?” Bode questioned, wincing internally at the way the obvious, infuriating truth screamed within him.
“We---I try.” Cal shrugged.
“Alright, alright, hold still.” Bode instructed.
Even with a warning, Cal still twitched sharply at the first pass of disinfected-soaked bandages over his inflamed skin.
“Man, BD’s stims are---ow---so much nicer than---ouch---this.” Cal whined.
“Sure, but they don’t exactly treat your wounds.” Bode pointed out, “They are only a temporary fix. Honestly, Kestis, have you ever at least opened a medkit?”
“Never…nngghh…thought to.” Cal groaned.
“That only proves my point further.” Bode sighed, “You need to take better care of yourself, Scrapper. This is how you keep getting all these scars.”
He gestured to the faded scars lining the redhead’s face.
“Um, actually, this is called art and I am starting a collection.” Cal retorted, stubborn as ever, “The most decorated fugitive in the galaxy.”
“Whatever you say, Kestis.” Bode chuckled, setting the disinfectant-soaked gauze aside, “A couple of these look pretty deep. I’m surprised you were still walking after them.”
“What can I say? The adrenaline of battle keeps me going.” Cal joked.
“I can see that.” Bode replied, reaching for the small sewing kit, “Still, we gotta stitch some of these up.”
Cal wriggled deeper into the mattress at that, a noise that sounded faintly like a whimper escaping him.
“Cal… Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a tiny needle when you nearly let yourself get impaled by an eight-inch vibro-blade.” Bode said, his focus on threading the needle the only thing helping him to suppress an amused chuckle.
“Hey, I’d still rather get impaled by your eigh---”
“Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.” Bode said, though he felt the corner of his lip twitch upward in amusement.
Even on the brink of death, Cal Kestis could be one horny bastard.
Noticing Cal’s nerves rising again as he moved in with the numbing spray to begin stitching the worst wounds, Bode spoke.
“See anything interesting out there tonight?”
“I thought you told me to shut up?” Cal teased, though his gaze flicked nervously down to the needle.
“I want to hear about it.” Bode said, tapping Cal’s chin with a finger to prompt him to look up, “Eyes on me, Scrapper.”
“I didn’t see anything out-of-the-ordinary.” Cal admitted, wincing slightly as Bode began the delicate work of stitching the first gash on his torso, “Watched a mogu smash a battle droid into scrap, though. That was pretty cool. Oh, and a distracted stormtrooper got crushed by a bilemaw rolling in its sleep.”
“Those Imps managed not to wake it up?” Bode questioned, impressed.
“Apparently not.” Cal chuckled, “Oh, and BD and I found---well, fell into this pretty little cove just off the path from that Raider camp near the top of the valley. Apparently it’s a popular watering-hole amongst the wildlife, particularly the apex predators.”
“So, not the best place for a picnic date, then.” Bode teased.
“I mean, unless you’re into danger.” Cal replied, smirking.
“I certainly wouldn’t object to it.”
“You mean it?” Cal questioned, looking up to Bode with wide, hopeful eyes.
Kriff, Bode really needed to be more careful about how he connected with his mark.
“That’s one done.” he said instead of answering, finishing stitching the first of two gashes.
“You’ve always been good with your hands.” Cal mused.
“If that’s another euphemism, I swear…”
“Fine, fine, shutting up.” Cal chuckled.
“You’re a menace.” Bode smiled fondly down at the Jedi.
“Takes one to know one.” Cal teased.
“Okay, well that’s just mean.”
Bode finished stitching up the second wound within moments, dressing it and the rest of Cal’s wounds with bacta-soaked bandages.
“That should do it.” he said, standing to admire his handiwork, “You should get some sleep now, it’s late.”
“But BD…” Cal began.
“I’ll get started on him.” Bode promised, “You need sleep after your little adventure.”
“You sure you know what to do?” Cal questioned.
“He’s not ancient like the Abyss compasses are.” Bode shrugged, “I’m sure I can handle it.”
“Okay.” Cal said, wriggling out of his torn cargo pants and under his covers, “Goodnight, Bode.”
“Goodnight, Scrapper.” Bode responded, a faint smile forming on his face.
Cal’s breathing evened out not long after Bode began work on BD’s damaged ambulatory strut. Brow creased in concentration, he carefully removed the broken scomp-link, giving the device a once-over before welding the snapped casing back together.
Kata would enjoy this, he thought, his heart aching for his daughter, alone in their quarters back on Nova Garon.
Setting the fixed scomp-link aside, Bode examined BD’s leg, quickly diagnosing the problem and beginning the necessary repairs.
He tried not to think about how repairing Cal’s droid would make the Jedi trust the spy more.
He was up for what felt like hours, the only sounds in the basement being the sound of Cal’s even breaths and quiet snores, and the light humming of the multitool as Bode worked. Finally, BD’s leg was repaired and Bode moved on to the droid’s cracked optical lens. Carefully removing the damaged part, Bode looked through the jumbled assortment of parts that Cal had collected in his excursions and then left in a pile on the workbench. Chuckling to himself at the disorganized state of the scrapper’s belongings, Bode quickly found a new lens.
Finally finished with the repairs, Bode moved to activate his mark’s droid, before pausing momentarily.
BD had been with Cal for almost a decade. The amount of valuable data he could have collected on the Jedi’s habits and strategies could be vital to Bode’s mission, to the ISB.
The thought made him sick, so he quickly pushed it down, praying he wouldn’t regret it.
BD perked up the second Bode reactivated him, beeping frantically as he paced around the workbench.
Bode was glad this wouldn’t require lying in order to keep his mercenary persona. Anyone, even a mercenary not fluent in Binary, could figure out what the droid was freaking out about.
“Whoa, hey, hey, you’re alright, BD. You were only out for a few minutes. You and Cal just got back. He’s resting, look.”
Bode gestured to the sleeping Jedi in the bunk. BD settled, but not before Cal stirred in his sleep. With bated breath, Bode waited for the scrapper to wake. When he didn’t, he breathed a sigh of relief, turning back to BD, who beeped sadly at the sight of his friend’s heavily-bandaged chest.
“He’ll be alright.” Bode reassured him, “He told me what you two went through out there. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”
He hated that he meant it. Cal should never have been so high on Bode’s priority list. Kata always came first. All of this was to keep his daughter safe.
Bode was jolted from his thoughts as BD let out a questioning beep.
“I’m okay, just…tired.” he answered, thankful he didn’t have to fake the yawn when it came, “You gonna be alright down here?”
BD beeped an affirmative.
“I’ll head to my room, then.” Bode said, gently patting the droid’s still-scorched head, “See you two in the morning.”
With that, he turned to exit the basement, moving silently up through the cantina, which was dark and empty at this late hour. When he reached the storage closet on the second floor that he used as his bedroom, he collapsed onto the small cot, his breath leaving him in a frustrated huff.
Get it together, Akuna, he thought, raking his fingers through his hair, his grip tight enough to hurt, the physical tug barely helping to pull him from his thoughts.
Sucking in a deep breath, he sat up long enough to remove his holsters and boots, before climbing properly into bed.
It took him what felt like hours before he fell into an uneasy, restless sleep.