Of Honeysuckle and Haiku [Tech x Fem!Reader]
Warnings and Information: This is my submission for an event hosted by the wonderful @cloneficgiftexchange, written for @apocalyp-tech-a. I hope you enjoy my first Tech x Reader!
2nd Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader who works as an analyst/researcher for the GAR. Minor AU changes (no missing and/or dead Clones here (but Echo is still part of CF99)!). Prompt sentence/s will be orange to keep in line with the color scheme of the graphics. Tech has a âsecretâ crush on Reader that she knows about. Flirting is stored in the info-dumping/poetry. Star Wars and real-world swearing is as naughty as it gets. Some Mandoâa. Brief references and allusions to injury and other canon-typical violence, and a small flashback where Readerâs senior colleagues are (implied to be) behaving like jerks to Tech, but nothing explicit. Use of stylistic and narrative italics. Fictional flowers.Â
Prompt: Can't we ever go to a nice place? | Oh, that's what that button does.
Word-count: 8,270
Another Primeday, another pile of notes in your locker.Â
That's how the weeks always started.Â
You worked closely with the Grand Army of the Republic as something of an analyst and unofficial bookkeeper, going on for two years now. Colleagues and work-friends would slip scraps of flimsiplast in the ventilation grooves of your locker as a way of non-electronic communication.
The old fashioned way, older department heads joked.Â
The flimsi stacks contained a mishmash of written comms. Inside jokes. Recipe trades. Reminders to get CT-6922âs helmet serviced for the video feed you needed for Jais in the Reverse-Engineering Department if they're ever going to find out how that new Separatist spider droid worked.Â
And a poem, written in spidery Aurebesh lettering from your âsecret admirerâ. Always the top of the pile that collected at the bottom of your locker.Â
You knew full well who it was after a while, piecing together all the clues he'd strung along for you. Game recognizes game, as they say. It took cracking a complicated cipher in order to-Â
Nah, who are you kidding?Â
You got impatient and asked Jais in R.E.D. to help you with scrubbing the security footage for the last person to stop by your locker one morning, finding a haiku waiting for you. A haiku regarding subject matter you had just been discussing with a colleague the other day who had a grueling day of carefully dissecting a Flame Beetle from Kashyyyk ahead of them, and you were slated to assist them.Â
The shimmering shellÂ
That conceals a beetleâs wing
Is called elytraÂ
- I wish I was a beetleÂ
Mild alarm that someone was messing with you turned to curiosity soon after; it had been Tech of Clone Force 99 who dropped the poem into your locker some weeks ago.Â
He'd been helping the analysts while he got his leg in working order, having broken both the tibia and fibula of his left leg in a skirmish. (That's about as much as you knew at the time.) Tech would be returning to fieldwork sooner than later; between check-ups and some physical therapy work, the genius and navigator of CF99 kept himself busy here, so he would still feel useful to the GAR while recovering.Â
Of all the analysts Tech assisted, you seemed to be his favorite given that you actually liked letting him help you, and didn't saddle him with a dull day of deskwork like some of the senior analysts who wanted him out of their hair.Â
You felt it was incredibly unfair to Tech, but there was nothing you could say to change their minds. You'd tried.Â
Instead of reading this week's new stack of flimsi notes from your weekend off at your locker, you decide you'll read them at your desk for a change. The smell of Techâs typical caf blend is particularly inviting this morning. Itâs been raining since last week, this morning the hardest yet. Thank the Maker you had a rain repeller in proper working order for the walk to the research center from the speeder cabs.Â
âGood morning, Tech.âÂ
Sitting down, from around the other side of the desk, you can see he's in a walking boot now. An improvement from when you last saw him just two short days ago.Â
âHey, that's a good sign! Think you'll be back with the rest of the Bad Batch soon?âÂ
You take no offense when his eyes do not lift from the screen of his datapad. âGood morning. I suppose, yesâŠâ He doesn't sound entirely enthusiastic like one might've expected, but you have enough of a grasp on his mannerisms by now to know that Tech is eager to return to his brothers in due time.Â
You've met the rest of his squad on a handful of occasions as they've come to check on him, making sure he's not missing all the action by keeping him up to speed on their exploits.Â
Smiling, you slide a cup of caf you believe to be Techâs closer to him as you leaf through the notes from your locker.Â
âDon't let your caf get cold.âÂ
The datapad drops away. âThat is for you,â he explains, âif you desire to try it, that is. I recalled you expressing interest in the last blend of caf I brought in, saying that it smelled good last Taungsday.âÂ
You blink, surprised he remembered those details. Well, not that surprised; you understood Tech had a remarkable memory that allowed him to recall obscure details. Itâs saved you from a few headaches, like that same Taungsday when a visiting representative from Glee Anslem insisted upon having the innocuous bouquet of Nabooian Honeysuckles sent off for allergen testing. Whatever it was that provoked the Nautolanâs (thankfully minor) allergic reaction, it was not the flowers, though they were refused return.Â
Shame⊠the delicate white, orange and cream blossoms were such a thoughtful gift from Senator Amidala to the visiting representative and now they look so out of place on your desk, still in the elaborate ceramic vase they came in. Youâre going to need to find a way to return it to Ms. Amidala once the flowers have shriveled and lost all their silky petals.Â
Thanking Tech for the thoughtfulness behind brewing you a cup of caf, you give it a careful taste and find the flavor far more robust than the instant mix the breakroom keeps on hand while you read the first of the notes. (Looked to be a heads-up that a commando had some grisly footage to be analyzed because Trandoshan pirates were involved and the credits were on Delta Squad being responsible.)
âMmm⊠Thatâs nice. Thank you again, Tech.âÂ
âYou are welcome.â he replies, half-ducking his head back down into the datapad, though his eyes remain on you.Â
Framed by the yellow lenses of the black-strapped goggles he wears, there is an observative nature to those brown eyes. The phenotypic eye color for all Clones is brown, he explained to you once. Though yes, there were a few aberrations in physical traits among his brothers in the GAR, just not quite to the same scale as the experimental squadron that Echo from the 501st Legion (once thought to be dead) joined not long ago. Echo still keeps in contact with the 501st, Captain Rex and a brother named Fives the closest of all. You figure what he must have been reading off his tablet before he came in this morning were more messages from his brothers.Â
Setting aside notes as you read them, youâre careful to keep the scrap of poetry for last as always. Wonder what itâll be today. A sonnet? Free-verse? Acrostic or maybe a limerick? Another haiku? Tech seemed to love leaving you haikus most of all.Â
Still finding his eyes upon you, you lay aside the last note about keeping an eye out for a missing label-maker and delicately clear your throat. âYes, Tech?â Youâre careful to offer him a friendly smile, a quiet measure of assurance that youâre not annoyed or disturbed by his watchfulness.Â
âSenator Amidala sent a letter of apology to the center regarding the honeysuckles and vase,â he begins, explaining the letter was forwarded to everyone who worked in the analysis department, âand since she feels terrible about the situation inadvertently caused for both her guest and the center, she suggested someone is welcome to keep both, if they wish.âÂ
âWell thatâs very kind of the senator.â you reply, giving the flowers on your desk a look of consideration, one that prompts a strange expression out of the genius you generously share your desk with.Â
You ask what the matter is with another swig of caf.Â
âI hope you donât mind too terribly that I⊠accepted on your behalf.â Tech confesses, aware heâs more than likely crossed a line by doing so. You and Tech do not know each other all that well, but heâs strung together enough clues to have some idea of what you like. Heâs noticed what you give the most attention to, and you had secretly been admiring the Nabooian bouquet for some time on TaungsdayâŠÂ
Cautiously, Tech adds, âYou could always give them to a friend.âÂ
Casting a third glance over the tri-colored flowers, Tech is assured that wonât be necessary, and heâd been correct in his assessment all along. âI donât mind at all; thanks for saving me the trouble. I was secretly hoping to take these home, Iâve been obsessed with Naboo for a while nowâŠâ you admit, dropping your voice into a near-conspiratorial whisper.Â
There was an often sunny windowsill back home with plenty of space for the vase and flowers that would make for the perfect spot to show both off. Maybe itâd inspire you to finally take that trip to Naboo you always wanted. Naboo sounded like a nice place, nestled in the Chrommell system of the Outer Rim Territories.Â
Idyllic, picturesque, it was often described.Â
All this analyst-work had you in a position to see the glorious, the gory, and everything in-between in the adventures of the Grand Army day in and day out. Compiling reports near and far was beginning to instill a sense of longing for adventure in you; nothing grand was necessary, just something different. Something beyond the walls of the GAR research center here among the Core Worlds.Â
Iâll be satisfied with a taste of adventure. Just one bite. Just one, I promise.Â
The yellow-lensed goggles are adjusted. âWhat fascinates you so much about Naboo?â Tech asks, curiosity burning at him.Â
âOh⊠I dunno,â you say with a shrug, smiling, âitâs hard to put it all into words.â And you wouldnât exactly have the time, either, with your shift due to start soon. While youâve still got the time, you should finish as much of the caf as you can before it grows cold, and finally get around to this new poem Techâs left for you. Maybe he can already guess that you know these are from him, but a part of you finds it fun in some way to pretend you donât.Â
Fixing an errant strand of hair back in place, you unfold the note and read. Another haiku, today, lamenting the dreary weather.Â
To simpler splendorsÂ
Like summer's gentle breezes
and honey most sweet
- When will the rain stop?
You find it curious and strange - this possible complaint - given you know Clones come from the storm-cloaked world of Kamino. Surely this weather feels just like home for him; familiar, maybe even comforting. But maybe itâs not his complaint, it could have been your own off-handed remark from some time ago that heâs echoing back to you now.Â
Techâs level of observation was truly incredible, sometimes. You already felt yourself missing his knowledgeable presence once he was healed up and returned to the Bad Batch. That wouldnât happen until he was rid of the walking boot and cleared for active duty, which was mildly comforting to you, selfishly speaking. Logically you know this arrangement is temporary, and you will not always have your willing assistant.Â
A willing assistant who has given his attention to closing off communications with Wrecker, from the sound of things as CF99âs genius reads the messages under his breath. Tech is trying very hard to appear like heâs not taken notice that youâve read his latest haiku.Â
You set the poetry aside along with the other locker notes, and pick up your clipboard full of the dayâs tasks. âTake your time, Tech.â you promise, chuckling warmly as he flashes the famous pointer finger in your direction, requesting just an extra moment. âI know Wrecker misses having his big brother around.â
Tech says nothing in response to your teasing quip, only offering an appreciative if distracted smile before heâs ready to help you with your tasks for the day.Â
On Primedays, the first item of business on the list is often the most nerve-wracking of all your assignments, today no exception.
âDammit, I grabbed the wrong screwdriver⊠Would you mind handing me the⊠the, uhâŠ?â Tech takes the incorrect screwdriver from your fingers and replaces it with what you need while you struggle to think of the name for the correct type, much to your relief. âOh, thank you Tech. Will you need this back when Iâm done?âÂ
Tech nods, a silent promise it was no trouble. âI will not. Iâm finished with what I needed it for. Feel free to use it as long as you need.â He does not need to remind you to go slowly.Â
Your first research assignment of the morning involves dismantled bombs, and the additional Clone tucked in one corner of the room clad in the bright orange of ordnance specialists serves as an eye-catching distraction rather than a precautionary measure. Nicknamed Reddy, this Clone trooper is only doing his job, of course; heâs supposed to be here as part of the protocol. This facility has gone one thousand and twenty-seven days without an explosive incident, which is a comforting number, but there is no room for complacency. In the unlikely event a bomb somehow reactivates, Red Wire is here to snuff it out for good.Â
(Or tell everyone to evacuate and seek shelter if he somehow canât.)
Helmet clipped to his utility belt, Reddy is reading the printed report, bobbing his head in time to some jaunty tune heâs got stuck in his head. âDisarmed and partially dismantled by⊠CT-9903. Thatâs your squadmate Wrecker, right?âÂ
âCorrect.â Tech replies tersely, hoping not to prove himself distracting to you. Heâs only standing as close as he is to give or take tools as you need them.Â
Reddy nods his head in approval of the work scattered over the examination table. âHe did a good job. Definitely has the gentle touch needed for bomb disposal.â Yes⊠Wrecker certainly had steadier nerves than yourself right now. You would prefer not to have shaking hands, no matter how incapable this bomb is⊠should be⊠of going off.Â
âReddyâŠâ
He catches the warning. âSorry, maâam.âÂ
You just need to pull off a particular durasteel plate, and take detailed pictures of a unique section of wiring to enter it into the GAR database of known bomb constructs and find close or exact matches. Then Reddy has the pleasure of disposing of the remnants for you. Fewer distractions while you remove notoriously fiddly screws, the better.Â
So why are your hands still shaking now that you should be able to focus again?Â
â... dammitâŠâ Youâve worked yourself up about the unsteady nature of your hands now. Stress will only worsen it, prolonging the tremble. Setting the screwdriver aside is the best course of action until you can find your nerve.Â
Rational thoughts, you remind yourself, everyone has had this happen to them at one time or another.Â
âMay I?â Tech offers, voice softer than you ever remember it being before now.Â
He is careful in offering to help without immediately trying to take over your work. Tech recognizes you are capable in all the various aspects of your job, and he does not wish to undermine or blow off your expertise. He understands from experience how that can be frustrating, even disrespectful.
And Tech aims to be very respectful of you. He's been very careful in how he's hinted his interest in you thus far. (Maybe too careful.) The haikus in your locker had been because he heard you liked poetry, and he proactively accepted the honeysuckles Senator Amidala offered for the trouble because he thought you might like them. Sharing his favorite blend of caf was a decision more premeditated than the other two.
You step to the side, accepting the offer.Â
âThank you, Tech...â you say, gesturing to the tools in an unspoken measure of please, by all means. Tech takes position where you previously stood, and begins to work on the dismantled explosive. Long, dexterous fingers make the process of loosening and extracting the remaining screws look deceptively easy.Â
âYouâll want your datapad soon,â Tech suggests helpfully, soon down to just two more corner screws to remove.Â
âOh, yesâŠ!âÂ
Scooping the tablet off of the examination table, you habitually skip your fingers across the reactive transparisteel and pull up the camera function, priming everything to capture the colorful chaos of wiring and circuitry inside once Tech has removed the panel. Once it is lifted out of the way, Tech side-steps to allow you in front of the bomb once more so that you can capture records for the GAR database.Â
However, the camera will not focus.
âStrangeâŠâ You tap the center of the screen, hoping perhaps the datapad will behave like your modern comlink and auto-focus, but it does not give you the result you hoped for. You chuckle somewhat bashfully. âSorry, itâs⊠been a while since Iâve used this old datapad for taking pictures.âÂ
âPress the red, center button on the top row twice.âÂ
Taking the advice of the bespectacled Clone beside you, the image on the screen comes into crisp focus, not a detail lost. âOh, thatâs what that button does.â This tablet is an older generation, but the facility keeps it because it's sturdy and reliable. No sense in replacing perfectly good technology so long as it continues to work.Â
âBeen using these tablets for ages and I never knew that. How'd you know that?â Reddy asks from the corner, safely voicing his curiosity now that the hard part is behind you. âJust real tech-savvy, I take it. That how you get your name?âÂ
Tech smiles knowingly. âLearning the ins and outs of each machine I use is crucial to my effectiveness in service of the Republic. Much in the same way you're here to assist the researchers, analysts and reverse engineers in bomb identification, in some cases.â The second question goes unanswered, you notice, but Reddy seems to let it go.Â
âHah, can't argue with that comparison!â he says agreeably, his smile sunny. Youâve always liked that about this particular member of the bomb squad; Red Wire has an optimistic disposition and general attitude despite the nerve-rattling nature of his job. Heâs not terribly jaded or gruff like some of the other Clones on rotation at this facility.Â
Once you've collected all your necessary pictures, you are promised that he'll take it from here. âGood work as ever ma'am. I'll clean up while you get started on the search.âÂ
âThank you, I appreciate the help as always from both you and Tech.â you say, patting him on the shoulder before you follow after Tech, whoâs already making his way back to your desk, neck craned over his datapad. Stepping past the blast doors to catch up to Tech, you breathe a sigh of relief while Red Wire begins the disposal process, the hardest task of the morning behind you.Â
âGlad thatâs over,â you say, finally feeling your quickened pulse slowing at last, âThank you for the help once again, Tech.â Youâre certain he heard the first thank you, but extra gratitude never killed anyone.Â
Techâs deliberate stride slows to match with yours. âIt was no trouble. I thought you might want the help.â A polite smile breaks the veneer of the usual expression of thoughtfulness and concentration youâve become accustomed to in the time Techâs been here.Â
Youâre very familiar with how he appears when heâs concentrated: the furrowed brow, his shoulders rolled forward, the subconscious setting and unsetting of his jaw as he mulls over a million thoughts. Wowing your colleagues with how he could extrapolate info from separate, complex datasets within multiple windows on the screen of his datapad without error.Â
The way his brown eyes, deep and dark, looked like honey when framed behind his gogglesâŠ
Sitting down at your desk where you fire up the database youâll be working with, already you see the slight furrow of his brow as Tech takes his seat on the other side, trading messages with his squadmates while he elevates his leg to alleviate the pressure of the walking boot. Tech misses being out there in the field more and more with every passing day.Â
âTell âem I said hi.â you request with a soft chuckle before allowing him to concentrate on keeping himself in the loop. You just have to hope his handsome face painted in deep concentration doesnât prove too distracting for you as you cross-reference your wire samples. The squad leader of the Bad Batch, Sergeant Hunter, had teased Tech once a few weeks ago, when he dropped by with Echo, on the depths of Techâs concentration. Thatâs when youâd truly taken notice of it for the first time.
Tech, utterly embroiled in some âlittleâ project heâd created for himself here at the research center, was staying long after your scheduled hours, repeatedly promising that you really donât have to stay here.Â
You turn another page in your holomag. âIâll be fine staying here a little longer. I want to make sure none of the senior analysts bother you. Again.â It was a slow Zhellday afternoon you had no other plans for, and a couple of people a little further up the chain of command really had a bug up their ass about Techâs presence here today in particular, continually complaining about an incident with his crutches.
Someone hadnât been looking where they were going and bumped into the mobility aids propped against a wall, knocking them over this morning. Unfortunately, there had been a tray of glass instruments set aside nearby that did not survive the crutchesâ sudden descent. The senior analysts, most of them much older than you, wanted him thrown out of the facility and have the agreement with the GAR that Tech would be here until his broken leg healed nullified.Â
âHeâs got a broken leg! Is he supposed to just hobble around the lab without his crutches? It was an accident, but Iâm starting to suspect youâre looking for excuses to get rid of him because youâre feeling threatened by his intellect!â
Clone Force 99âs second-in-command hums shortly in delayed response, a frown marring his otherwise concentrated expression. Tech adjusts his goggles as he pours over some reference. The man with partial skull iconography inked across his similarly tanned face next to Tech carefully nudges him with his elbow.Â
âTech, this is when youâre supposed to tell the nice lady thank you.â Hunter warns him, teasingly of course. Heâs gotten back from a long deployment, and rather than going to the nearest mess hall with Wrecker and Crosshair, heâs come to check up on Tech, finding that heâs still at the GAR research center. Heâs too tired to give any kind of reprimand just for the sake of appearances.Â
âEspecially after this morning⊠Donât make me do the nat-born thing, vod.â
Tech sort of scoffs, the threat of referring to him by his CT number, like a misbehaving natural-born child hearing the use of their middle name, by his brother having little effect.Â
âNo thanks necessary, honestly.â You turn the page to your holomag, skimming the article to see if itâs worth an in-depth read, then meet Hunterâs eye. âIt was honestly a bit cathartic to have a go at those jerks.â Decrying them as jerks to the squad leader of the Bad Batch was putting it real mildly given your true thoughts of them right about now.Â
Echo gives you a knowing nod. The sergeant smirks, and this is what gets Tech to break his silence.Â
âDonât, Hunter.â
âGlad you made a friend, Tech.â Hunter says it with complete sincerity, so far as you can tell. Leaning back in the borrowed lab chair, Hunter kicks his feet up for a moment on a corner of the desk to adjust some parts of his armor. âWrecker might get jealous.â
âI think we all would.â Echo says with a kind chuckle.
âPlenty of me to go around,â you promised the three of them, âI love making friends with the GAR.â
A few hours later, now four items deep into your checklist for the day with the wire cross-referencing behind you, you lean back in your chair and stretch your arms above your head, feeling something pop with great satisfaction. âMmm! That felt good. Hey, Tech?â He nods to show he hears you, at which point you continue. âIâm thinking of running home real quick during lunch to take the honeysuckles home so Iâm not wrestling with those on top of everything else Iâll have to take with me tonight. You gonna be okay on your own for a bit?âÂ
âI will be fine.â he assures you, sliding the clipboard from âyourâ side of the desk over to his. âI may need the password to your desk-mounted computer terminal, however.â
âItâs ânaboofieldsâ. All one word, no capitals, special characters or letters.âÂ
You root around your desk for one of the seemingly innumerable sticky-flim pads you possess, scribbling down the password - just in case - as neatly as you can before removing the top flimsi-note and hand it over to him. Honeyed eyes blink once in mild surprise after he inspects your handwriting.Â
âNot very secure, I know.â you laugh bashfully, straightening a few sheafs of flimsiplast before gathering up the stack of locker notes to tuck them in your pocket. Busywork to avoid any kind of lecturing look. But when you meet his eyes for the moment before wondering how best to pick up the ceramic vase full of beautiful tri-colored honeysuckle, you find no disappointment. Only more curiosity.Â
âHave you ever been to Naboo?â Tech asks. Heâs noticed this particular topic has been cropping up a lot between the idle doodles on flimsi scraps of the bulbous Shaak grazing through lush emerald fields and little reminders youâve written to yourself scattered across your desk lately. Ticket prices. Best time of year to go. Popular festivals. Fashion. You were weaving a curious pattern. Â
Tech doesnât do this very often, but he hazards a guess. Could you perhaps be⊠homesick?
âWere you born there?â
You shake your head. âI wasnât born there, and Iâve never visited before. Nabooâs just some⊠silly dream of mine lately.âÂ
âWhy do you say âsillyâ?â The question is earnest and sincere, and Tech sits forward off the backrest of the lab chair, posture straightening out. âHas someone said something unkind about your desire to see Naboo?â He couldnât imagine why someone would disparage this; many galactic citizens express some level of desire to visit this planet in the Chrommell sector at least once in their lifespan.Â
Heâs assured thereâs no one being unkind to you when you wave him off, sliding the vase across your desk carefully. âNo one other than me, I guess. I dunno when Iâd ever have a chance to go visit between the work I do for the GAR, plus being in the middle of the Clone Wars for starsâ sakeâŠâ Youâre considering if it would be worth telling him about your developing case of wanderlust, your craving for a taste of adventure. (Just a taste⊠just a taste!)
What Tech was supposed to do with that revelation, you werenât sure. Did you want his help planning this whimsical trip? Or did you just need to confide in him with this harmless little secret?Â
âWould it be impolite to presume you donât have many vacation days accrued in order to enjoy a short holiday?â Tech assumes youâre well aware of labor laws the GAR has to comply with for civilian staffing, like yourself, but he has no means of knowing how much PTO you have stored up without rooting into the system.
âKarabast, I- I hadnât even thought ofâŠâ Your thoughts trail off as you look out one of the rain-spattered panes of transparisteel and determine you need to stop by your locker to gather your weather wear and rain repeller. When was the last time you had some extended leave from work that wasnât a sick day, anyways? âI have some PTO Iâm owed, but I try to be smart and save it for emergencies⊠I, uh, think I have more than two weekâs worth.â Truthfully itâs been some time you looked at the amount of PTO youâve accrued. It very well could be less than you remember, or more than you imagine.Â
Tech makes a quiet murmur of agreement that saving the time off for emergencies is rather smart, shrugging after a stretch of clearly contemplative silence. âI was merely curious.â The statement makes it tempting to tease him in return, say something like arenât you always? but he has something more to say before you work up the nerve, gesturing to the clipboard. âMay I watch the helmet footage for you while you take the Nabooian Honeysuckles home?â
âI was warned it was grisly.â you caution him out of kindness, thinking back to one of the locker notes. âSo, as long as you donât mind or wonât be bothered, I suppose you can look at the footage for me⊠Credits are on it being sent from Delta Squad.âÂ
Scrutinizing the datadisc, Tech finds RC-1207 etched into it. Commando Sev, he tells you, went missing on Kashyyyk for a month early in the war⊠(Thank the Maker, his pod brothers had been fortunate in finding him.) Sev has never spoken of the experience.Â
âThis should prove to be fascinating, in some regard.â Tech speculates, slotting the disc into an external inspection device to set everything up to complete this in your absence. Goggles are adjusted every so slightly, changing the way they are seated on his face. âIâll leave the notes for you on your desk by the time you return.â he promises.Â
You make sure youâve gathered the last of your things, saying that you better get going now that everythingâs agreed upon. Carefully cradling the vase in the crook of your arm, you arrange the bouquet slightly with your free hand to avoid bruising any of the velveteen petals as you carry it.Â
Turning on your heel, you head for your locker to collect your rain repeller. âAppreciate it, Tech, thank you. Iâll catch you later.âÂ
âWatch out for the deeper puddles, donât slip.â Tech calls after you.Â
Heâs overheard many of your colleagues using this phrase the last couple of days to warn one another; the longer the rainâs gone on, the deeper the areas of rain retention have become since the water table is oversaturated. There has been no break in the weather, but the end is in sight.Â
âWhen will the rain stop?â Soon. Maybe even tomorrow.
Habitually, you call back that youâll be careful and another farewell, flashing him a sunny smile as you head out the door for the speeder cabs, the honeysuckles in one hand, repeller in the other. You donât expect to be gone long.
Taking the vase full of honeysuckle home is your highest priority, right along with making sure the flimsiplast scraps in your pocket remain dry. Flimsi, while conveniently reusable, was hair-thin, had a slight transparency to it, and dissolved in water. (Why some disposable gowns for med centers were made out of the acrylic material when it was kriffing semi-transparent you had yet to figure out.) If you were careful of the shifting winds before you got to a speeder cab, Techâs poems would stay safe and dry in your pockets, joining the others in a box of precious keepsakes at home.Â
Maybe you could put them all in a scrapbook one day, able to read and admire them all at leisure, or whenever you miss having new haikus show up in your locker once Techâs broken leg is fully healed and he rejoins his brothers. Techâs been careful not to voice how much heâs come to miss his brothers - else he risks sounding ungrateful for the research center agreeing to let him assist there after much back and forth - but you know heâs getting somewhat impatient.Â
âIf I had known a second BX droid was around the boulder, I wouldnât have tried to kick the first over the precipiceâŠâ
âThatâs how you broke your leg?â
âHad it broken for me when the commando droid grabbed me, more accurately. Better me than EchoâŠâÂ
Heâd return to his brothers in time with the whole of hyperspace at his fingertips. Hunter would get his second-in-command back. The Havoc Marauder will have both of her pilots and it wonât be Echo spending time alone in the cockpit. Wrecker and Crosshair will once again have their brother to parse through factitious scenarios and the complicated mathematics necessary to pull it off relating to their enhancements to help one another in staving off hyperspace hypnosis.Â
And youâd go back to dreading Primedays and dreaming of clover covered plains on Naboo between every string of data you analyze for the GAR once Tech left. Youâd miss the extra pair of capable hands and his talented, dare you say exceptional, mind. Youâd miss the presence of yellow-lensed goggles and the steady, red light of the cylindrical camera attached to them that sometimes followed you around the analyst lab, that were as much a part of Techâs face as the rest of his features.Â
Youâd miss him and the harmless little crush Jais teases you over since helping you find out who your secret admirer was.Â
âSwing by your locker lately?â
âYou have better eyesight than a Mynock but all the subtlety of a Reek, Jais. Yes I saw he left me another haiku.â
âWhat do they say?â
So much by using so little.Â
Tech has just seventeen syllables to work with, but boy does he make them work.Â
They will last far longer than any tender blossom, tucked carefully on the windowsill and lovingly arranged to fill in the gaps in the bouquet during transport. Home only for a short time, you settle for tucking the new haikus and other notes on the low table in the living room to sort through later tonight while eating dinner.Â
Come to think of it, maybe you should invite Tech over for dinner sometime, while heâs still here. (While thereâs still time to leave things behind in order to remember him by.) Heâs been staying in temporary accommodations in the unofficial research district since the nearest GAR barracks are an hour away, and the district isnât too far from your place. Youâre not sure what the protocol on this is (or if thereâs any), and heâs more than welcome to turn you down, but-
This harmless crush has gone beyond only going one way.Â
Youâre going to miss Tech when he leaves, not just because it means you'll lose an eager assistant who shares what he learns while you work. You've grown to like him in ways you haven't devoted proper time to exploring why with the nature of your work, but you like Tech too. And you donât want just a vase full of honeysuckle that will one day wither and a smattering of haikus to remember him by.Â
You want something more. Something meaningful before he goes back to making mayhem for the Separatists.Â
And maybe it can start today, if you're clever enough.Â
It's time to stop daydreaming.
When you return to the research center, you first put your rain repeller away in your locker and collect the few notes that appeared while you were out. No new poems, only warnings that one of the senior analysts had a bug up their ass the size of a mynock (scratch that, a bantha) again over something minor, and it's best to stay out of their way until they cooled off.Â
âHey, Tech, I'm back.â You announce your return from the lockers to avoid potentially startling him, finding him fiddling with a part of his vambrace. âGot some cryptic notes in my locker. Feel like I missed some excitement while I was away.âÂ
âYes⊠You certainly did.â One of the analysts lost their temper with the ânewfangledâ caf-pot in the break room, Tech explains. Nothing newfangled about it in truth, it just wasn't working because it had been unplugged for cleaning and someone just forgot to leave a note.Â
âSpeaking of notes,â he says as an aside, procuring a printed message from Lieutenant Waxer of Ghost Company in the 212th, âThis came in just before you arrived while I was at the copier.âÂ
Giving the lieutenantâs request a once-over, you find a general greeting after the Grand Army of the Republicâs letterhead, asking if someone would mind helping him locate the origin of a particular word in the language of the Twiâleks. Printed requests are deemed non-urgent, but itâs simple enough that you donât mind adding his query to the bottom of your daily checklist, on which you find only the helmet footage crossed off.Â
âThought youâd have gotten more done than this.â you say, chuckling as you take a seat at your desk.Â
Tech adjusts his goggles and meets your eye. âFelt it would be impolite to take your work from you when we had an agreement for just the footage.â He returns to fiddling around with his vambrace and his datapad, perhaps trying to sync something up.Â
His concern of taking further work from you without asking is very kind, and rather touching. You feel warmth in your face disproportionate to the heating system warming the labs on this rainy day. âOh. Well, I wouldnât have minded too much, but thank you. Whatâd you do instead until I got back?â You figure it didnât take all too long to study the commandoâs footage, finding the notes Techâs took for you pinned underneath the datadisc the feed was stored on. Lifting the high-tech paperweight, you give the notes a glance.Â
Itâs the same thin lettering as the haikus.Â
Tech tuts in thought while snapping a part of his vambrace back where it belongs. âGeneral research. Nothing important.â He does not immediately elaborate on what he had researched, thinking you may want to take a moment to mentally prep yourself for returning to work and start on the next task at hand.Â
They were not concerns he (often) had to keep in mind with Hunter, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair because he knew them so well compared to other people, compared to you. They spent the most time together and could give him a playful ribbing for overstepping boundaries, or starting detailed explanations when it wasnât the best time. No one cares! was often said in-the-moment, and apologized for in ways that did not involve the words Iâm sorry - and that was normal with his brothers.Â
So when you break into a big, friendly smile and draw out the word âLiiiikeâŠ?â while you continue to settle in, Tech knows itâs okay to elaborate. That you seem interested in what he has to say.Â
âIt was the origin of halliksets. I became distracted when I learned they were quite popular on Naboo, and spent some time looking into that instead.â As he expected, you perk up with the mention of Naboo, interest piqued. âTheyâre made with seven strings, and the ore commonly used to make them comes from Kreeling, a mining planet also within the Chrommell sector.â The ore seems to be used to decorate the rounded body of the instrument, from what he had been reading. Ornamentation rather than function.Â
âHuh,â you say politely with a smile to match, âI had no idea. Thatâs really neat.âÂ
You thank him for sharing before agreeing that perhaps you should get started on some of your work when he warns you that he can hear someone from another department coming, and it may be wise to appear busy.Â
For the next fifteen or so minutes, you and Tech are careful to appear focused on tasks from the clipboard. Something about figuring out why a standard caustic compound utilized by the GAR didnât work. Tech casts a subtle glance over his shoulder while you muse over the specs, wondering just like you why someone from another department is taking their sweet time to leaf through all the disposable pipettes in the storage cabinet of all things. Trying to eavesdrop? Just really particular about their lab supplies? Who karking knows.Â
While looking into the humidity record on Felucia the day of the recorded equipment failure, you take a moment to open the system you submit your time-off requests to and look at the amount of paid time off accrued. Two and a half weeks. Thatâs not bad.Â
âGood to knowâŠ.â
âWhat is it?â Tech asks.
âOh, just poking into weather records,â you hum, hiding the portal, âSeems the caustic compound failed because of higher than average humidity that day. It was under six months old, so I donât think it was a product age failure.â From the flashpoint of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, much of the equipment utilized barely sits on a shelf any longer than six standard months after its production and purchase for the Grand Army.Â
Clones were clever. Well trained. They knew how to account for things like planetary climate, weather conditions and equipment age out in the field, but youâll always have the occasional fluke. Things beyond your control, beyond what you trained for. (Some things you could never train for.) But the Grand Army of the Republic could be trusted to give it their all, no matter the occasion, no matter the challenge.Â
You trusted men like Red Wire with your life here in the labs when you had to work with disarmed bombs, never doubting his ordnance training for a second. The same goes for the man sitting on the other side of your desk from you now, the injured leg in the walking boot propped up in a spare chair. You trust Tech too.Â
When the personnel from another department finally leaves, theyâre grumbling something venomously about the missing label-maker under their breath, the word âdiâkut!â loudest of all.Â
You recognize the Mandoâa. Pronunciation DEE-koot. Multiple meanings. Idiot. Useless. Waste of space. (More accurately a waste of their time⊠Pretty sure someone already said the label-maker wasnât in there.) You wonder where they know the word from.Â
Speaking for yourself, youâve picked up a smidgen of the language from working as a researcher and analyst, and youâve added a few more words to your repertoire from Techâs uninterrupted correspondence with the Bad Batch that heâs allowed you to see some of.Â
And speaking of them⊠Now that you and Tech are alone, this might be a good time to try putting your plan in motion knowing how much PTO you have to work with now. You want to go to Naboo, and you want to see if thereâs any way you can convince Tech to go with you. Maybe even meet you there with the rest of Clone Force 99. Make bumping into them look like a coincidence.Â
âHey Tech, when you return to your brothers, any plans or ideas on where youâll go first?âÂ
A pad of sticky flimsi-notes is pulled from one of the many drawers of your desk, and you root around for a working pen while you wait on an answer. Calling upon courage from the very heart of the cosmos, you hope you can pull this off.Â
Tech answers the break in relative silence with a quirk of his eyebrow. âNone that Iâm aware of, but I suspect weâll be going wherever we are needed.â There is a long contemplative pause, eyes flicking to his trusty tablet more than once as a few new messages from Wrecker come in.Â
âIs there some reason youâre asking?â He pushes the datapad aside now, giving you more of his attention, which is appreciated.Â
Shoulders bounce. âWhat if I said I was just curious?â You donât expect him to buy that, heâs too clever. But you need a moment of quiet contemplation on his part to count out the syllables without messing up. Once youâre certain you have five, then seven syllables, you flash him an easygoing smile. âBeing curious isnât a crime, is it?â
âOn some planets it is. Some rather⊠ridgid, often self-isolated cultures across the galaxy view curiosity as a sign of an idle mind and fear it will inspire mischief. Free thinking. Rebellion.âÂ
The question had been rhetorical, and you donât mind that he answered, but you find the fact quite sad. You also donât want to begin to imagine how that sort of âcrimeâ is punished. Curiosity is a natural part of life to all, to criminalize it is⊠frankly ridiculous.
âWell good thing weâre not in one of those isolated cultures.â you say, now thinking how youâll finish penning this poem. Should you add your reasoning for why you wrote this at the bottom? (Would you even have room?) Maybe you should just tell him after heâs read your poem instead.Â
âAgreed.â Another message comes in from Echo this time, but Tech ignores it, continuing to hold eye contact with you; almost like heâs performing an inspection. âSo I hope it does not feel like an accusation when I say I donât believe you are âjust curiousâ.âÂ
âI did have an ideaâŠâ you admit, fiddling with the pen in your hand for the moment, âSince I heard Clone Force 99 isnât keen on following every little orderâŠâ This is when you choose to slide the haiku you were working on over to âhisâ side of the desk, waiting in nervous silence as brown eyes scrutinize every Aurebesh letter laid bare before them.Â
Can't we ever goÂ
to a nice place, verdant fieldsÂ
of spring eternal?
- Feel like breaking a few rules?
Techâs eyes lift from the flimsiplast note, looking surprised. He didnât take you for the sort of person whoâd encourage breaking certain GAR protocols, let alone⊠Your name falls from his lips, asking what this is about in the same tender tone.Â
âI thought about what you asked regarding how much time off I have, and I found out I have two and a half weeksâŠâ You explain, fiddling with the pen some more to occupy your nervous hands while he continues to monitor you. âI thought⊠Maybe once your leg heals up, and youâre cleared to return to active duty, you could find an excuse to spend some time on Naboo. Get to know each other better, perhaps?â He clearly has some kind of feelings for you that are in the earlier stages of reciprocation, and if youâre away from the lab, and he finds the time or the excuse to nip down to the Chrommell sector and meet up with you on Naboo, then neither one of you have to worry about behaving quite so professionally.Â
Looking down at the haiku once again, Tech takes in your explanation, your invitation, and offers a mild chuckle at long last.
âYou know what my brothers will say if I tell them about this?â
You swallow nervously. âW-what?â
âThat it almost sounds like youâre asking me on a date.âÂ
You do what you can to keep your jaw from dropping, but thereâs little to be done about the fiery feeling building in the apple of your cheeks that suggests there may be color blooming there. If youâre blushing, Tech certainly does a splendid job of politely pretending he sees no such thing while he gives your poem another look.Â
You do the same in kind when additional color builds in his own face and crawls up his neck from under the top of the body suit. âI take it you figured out who was secretly leaving you the haikus.â His smile is timid, but not quite as nervous as your own.Â
âI did. A while ago, actually.â you confess, confirming his suspicions. âI had help checking the cameras to see where the first one came from. I didnât see a reason to say anything, or stop you.â You add that youâve kept every single one, too, to some surprise of the computer and weapons specialist sitting across from you.Â
He sits forward now, carefully easing the walking boot to the floor. âYou really want to spend time with me on Naboo?â Your earnest nod surprises him further. You do. Out of millions of Clones in the galaxy, youâre asking Tech (and his brothers by proxy) to join you in visiting the idyllic planet.Â
You carefully carve out a little portion of your PTO and submit the request as the very first step in the planning process, and while you await approval you and Tech will continue to work together as normal. You still have to behave professionally in the meantime.Â
Well, as professionally as possible when Tech decides he can now confess he has a backlog of haikus for you, enough so you could have one waiting for you in your locker every day until heâs cleared to return to fieldwork in a few weeks, in theory.Â
âPoetry every Primeday, honeysuckles today, and now youâre offering daily haikus? Maybe I will be asking you out on a date if you continue to spoil me like that.â you warn him, chuckling. Of course now you get the feeling Tech will make sure the weeks leading up to your time-off would consist of honeysuckle and haiku to ensure that you would.Â
And those were going to become some of your best weeks working as a researcher and analyst for the GAR, whether you got that time off or not, because it would be spent making precious memories with Tech.Â
That was what mattered most.
First time I've ever participated in one of these events, and I don't think I did too badly, considering I completely restarted this at one point! (Apologies for how long this ended up being, too, haha.) I hope you liked it, Tech-a! đ©·
Fic taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit
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