#but he got three sets of limbs so uh?? sir are you a bug??

[cloudsrust]

I know I talk a lot about Helob and Sozo but I’ll be damned if I don’t have thoughts about Ratau, Narinder and the Fox too-

Oh and Plimbo.. but honestly in his case I’m just rotating him in my brain trying to figure out what the hell he is.

[shadowmaat]

Cmdr. Fox Week Day 6: Caring

Look, Fox deserves all the fluff and I am here to provide it. @loving-fox-hours

The Care and Feeding of Commander Fox

Fox was on a routine and thankfully uneventful patrol of the halls of the Senate when he noticed someone coming towards him. They were short, bipedal, covered in marbled grey fur, and had six arms, two sets of which were currently crossed over their chest. They were also wearing a purple tooka romper, so he hazarded a guess that they were a juvenile.

He stopped as the presumed juvenile stomped up to him, thrust all six arms in the air, and made a buzzing clicky sound. Fox didn't need a translator to figure out that command.

"Are you lost?" He bent to pick up the young harch- for that's what they had to be, especially with the six red eyes- and settled them against his hip.

A derisive clicking and a firm shake of the head. So either they weren't lost or refused to admit it. He sent a message off to Sergeant Rattle, letting her know what he'd found. If a frantic parent or guardian called in looking for a missing youngling, Rattle could reassure them and let him know where to go.

"I'm Commander Fox," he said, in case the armor wasn't enough indication he was a Safe Grownup. "Do you want me to take you back to your guardian?" he asked, checking the hallway just in case this turned out to be a short exercise.

Another headshake and the harch mashed their face against his chestplate, making a keening sound that made his teeth hurt.

"Right, no guardian, then," he said. What the frip was a harchling doing running around the Senate, anyway? Last he'd heard Secundus Ando was still firmly Separatist, so they wouldn't have a senator here.

"How about something to eat?"

This, at least, got a pleased warble, although they kept their face pressed into his chest. The upper set of arms hooked around his neck, the middle set had tiny claws hooked around the edge of his armor plate, and the last set clung to the arm that was holding them.

"I'm afraid the Guard mess isn't very exciting," he said as he made a turn to head in that direction. "Our rations are geared for humans, but they should be safe for you as well."

He was pulling up everything he could about harch dietary habits, which seemed to go heavy on liquid proteins and meat rather than live bugs as he'd been half afraid would be the case.

A bubbling hiss as the harch shook their head and pointed one three-fingered hand in the other direction. Towards the visitors cafe. Fox snorted.

"Sorry, kid, but if you're with me, it's the Guard mess or nothing. We aren't allowed in the places real people go. Might offend them with our stench."

He said it like a joke, but it was true enough. Rich folk like the Senators and their guests hated being confronted by commoners, and by their reckoning clones were a step down from that. Or several.

The harchling made a show of sniffing him, still pointing the way to the cafe. When it was clear Fox wasn't going to obey their simple instruction, they started to wriggle.

Fox had done his share of creche-work back on Kamino and had even volunteered a time or two at the Jedi Temple, but none of it compared struggling with an eight-limbed mini-tyrant intent on getting what they wanted. They started an oscillating whine and were starting to draw unwanted attention.

He flipped on his internal comm. "Rattle, what in the Storms-cursed hells is taking so long?"

"Oh! Commander!" Rattle sounded surprised. "Uh, is everything alright? I mean, no one's reported any missing children yet, but you'll be the first to know, sir!"

Fox grunted as he took a well-placed foot, or possibly fist, to the stomach.

"But there is, uh, news!"

Rattle sounded odd, but Fox was too busy struggling to hold on to figure it out. He'd stopped walking and was seriously debating how much trouble he'd be in if he just dropped the kid.

"Turns out there's a celebrity visiting today! You know Bivi? Silken queen of the pop charts? She's here to be thanked for-"

"Why the frip weren't we told?" Fox snarled. He turned and started heading in the direction the harchling demanded. Hells, for all he knew, they were saying that's where their caretaker was.

"Funny thing about that," Rattle started.

"Never mind! Just- see if we can get some of the Guard in her detail. Shadow 'em if you have to, but I don't want any reports to say we snubbed some fancy-damned superstar." He didn't quite sneer the last word, but it was close.

"Yessir," Rattle said. "If I hear anything more, I'll let you know!"

There was that weird note in her voice again, but before he could ask her about it, the comm disconnected. He glanced down at the harchling, who'd gone docile again once they saw he was heading in the right direction.

"Fine, kid," he said, switching to his outer comm again. "We'll do it your way, but I hope you're okay with eating alone."

He wasn't honestly sure either of them would be allowed in since he couldn't provide a name or sponsor for the harchling, but if their guardian or caretaker was indeed in there at least it'd solve half his problems. Then he could concentrate on the nightmare of some ditzy singer running loose without a Guard presence.

Sure enough, as they approached the entrance to the cafe a silvery protocol droid stepped into the doorway.

"I beg your pardon, Sir and Mx," it said, "but the Freedom Cafe is off limits to non-members."

Disdain dripped from its tone. If it had more of a nose it definitely would have been looking down it at them.

"Do you see who you're looking for?" Fox asked.

The harchling turned a bit to face the droid and began to talk. It was full of whistles and clicks, and when they finally stopped, the lights in the droid's eyes actually blinked as it took a step back, bowing.

"My most profound apologies, Your Ladyship! Of course you and your Noble Guardian are most welcome!"

It bowed again, moving aside and gesturing for them to enter.

"If there's anything Your Ladyship requires, please, don't hesitate to ask!"

Fox looked down at the harchling, who gave him a squinty-eyed look in return. How something with six eyes, fur, and mandibles could radiate smugness like that was beyond him, but there was no doubt that's exactly what they- what she- was doing.

"Your Ladyship, huh?" He moved past the droid, taking a quick look around the room as he made his way to the serving line. "Something you want to tell me?"

She chirped at him, her tone inquisitive, and all her eyes wide in an unconvincing display of innocence. He huffed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

For a species that was supposed to prefer a liquid diet, the harchling seemed happy enough to stock up on steak and shellfish. After some argument he convinced her to take some vegetables as well, then she returned the favor by insisting he pick food for himself.

There were a few visiting dignitaries sitting on the far side of the room as well as a gaggle of aides making a mess and swapping horror stories about their senators. Nothing he hadn't heard before. He'd set the harchling down so he could carry both their trays and she strutted along behind him as if she owned the place. Knowing his luck, she probably did.

He picked a quiet table shielded by plants with a nice view of the air traffic outside and set the trays down. Her Ladyship climbed into a chair on her own and stared at him until he sat.

It was a good thing that there was no one here to see him being ordered around by a toddler. He'd been in far more humiliating situations and unlike other times he wasn't afraid to tell her "no," but, well, sometimes it was easier to just go along with whatever was happening and younglings were one of his biggest weaknesses. At least the ones who weren't malicious demonspawn like their parents.

Fox pulled his helmet off and set it on the empty chair beside him. He still had his wrist comm if there was an emergency and Rattle kept "dropping" his calls as if it wasn't blatant she was doing it. The squad channel was full of the usual chatter, so while he was suspicious, he wasn't worried something was wrong.

He ate his burger and "truffle fries," savoring every bite and trying not to think about how much worse rations were going to taste after this. He also did his best to ignore the unpleasant crunching sounds from his companion. Apparently harch could eat shellfish whole.

He accepted what pieces she offered him and caught every attempt she made to hide her vegetables, making sure she ate all of it.

It was the best meal he'd had in his entire life, and he hoped that whoever she was- or whoever her parent might be- that they wouldn't find a way to reverse the charge to his account instead.

While he was brooding over how to get her back where she belonged, she gabbled at a passing serving droid, who sped off only to return with a couple of plates sporting enormous slices of chocolate cake.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he said.

The harchling pointed her fork at him and whistle-clicked at him, waiting. He could refuse; he'd been more than reasonably accommodating and even a clone had to draw a line somewhere, but... it was chocolate cake. With at least two inches of chocolate frosting and a dollop of what was undoubtedly real whipped cream slowly melting over it.

He picked up his fork and took a bite. Flavor exploded in his mouth and he closed his eyes to savor the moment. He heard a chirp and the clatter of a fork on china that meant his tiny abductor had joined him.

"What is the point of all this?" He asked between bites. "You're clearly more capable than you pretend and if you really needed help it sounds like the droids here can actually understand you."

The harchling tilted her head, making an inquiring chirp. There was frosting smeared around her mandibles.

Fox gave her a level look. "Just because I'm a clone doesn't mean I'm an idiot, miss." He sent a silent prayer to the Great Seas that he wasn't setting himself up for a reprimand by talking back.

The harchling put down her fork and reached across the table toward him, taking his free hand in both of her upper ones and stroking it. She crooned softly, which wasn't much of an answer but did feel like an apology.

One of her middle hands came up, clutching a small stuffed toy, and pushed it across the table. He put down his own fork to pick up the toy, which looked like a well-loved yellow harch.

"I don't understand," he said, checking to see if it had a name or ID on it.

The harchling brought her middle hands together and tilted her head against them, closing her eyes.

Fox's mind reeled. "You... want me to take a nap?" He couldn't quite believe it. He'd had a lot of strange days in the Guard, but this was borderline surreal.

The harchling opened her eyes and nodded, but before he could respond there was a commotion at the door.

He was up and shielding the harchling before he'd made a conscious choice to move. Cam droids hovered in the air and he recognized a couple of reporters backing into the room, peppering someone with questions.

Then the "someone" stepped in and he felt his stomach drop.

It was another harch. They had ghostly white fur that glittered under the flashbulbs and startling blue eyes. They were wearing a shimmering black dress and carefully-fitted matching boots.

The harchling behind him gave a piercing whistle and hopped to his shoulder and he struggled to secure her, heart hammering wildly as all attention focused on him.

Several camdroids buzzed over and Kilsa Rumano, whom he'd had the misfortune to encounter several times already, looked like she'd just been handed a leading headline. She probably had. He could imagine the headline: Clone Commander Kidnaps Child.

The white harch, however, tossed two sets of arms theatrically in the air. "Ferra, my niblet! There you are!"

The crowd around them parted as the harch glided across the room in their direction, trailing reporters, attendants, and- yes- two guardsmen in her wake. It must be Bivi, the singer Rattle had warned him about. He was completely fripped.

"I see you found a dashing Guard Captain to watch over you," Bivi continued. "Well done!"

"Not just any Commander, mum," Ferra said in perfect Basic. "This is Commander Fox!"

Fox's neck wrenched painfully as he twisted his head to stare down at her. She grinned up at him, mandibles wagging.

"You..." He couldn't form words. At least not ones that were safe to say in current company.

She reached up to pat his cheek, leaving little smears of frosting.

"Commander Fox." The clicks in Bivi's voice almost sounded like purring. "Just the man I wanted to see!"

The next bit of time passed in a blur of praise from Bivi, questions from the reporters, and commentary from Ferra, who was acting as if he'd saved her from certain death.

It turned out that Bivi was in the Senate to accept a special thank you from the Chancellor for some charity fund she'd apparently organized for the clones. That really must have stuck in his craw, Fox thought. She'd wanted to meet whatever troopers she could find- including the Guard- but had been told they were all "too busy." Hence sending Ferra out to find one.

Ferra was the equivalent of around seven, but very mature for her age, and knew how to use that to her advantage. She decided he seemed overworked and endeavored to treat him the best way that she could.

The "plight" of the clones was mentioned to the eagerly listening reporters, and Bivi had some harsh criticisms of the Senate- and Palpatine in particular- that Fox knew would come back to bite him in the ass, but he was a little overwhelmed at that point.

The shaking shoulders of the two guardsmen in the back of the room and the flowery apology from Rattle told him that Ferra wasn't the only one who'd set him up for this.

Bivi had piles of merchandise for him to distribute among the Guard and any other interested brothers. She also handed him a stack of tickets for her show later that evening, and as she handed them to him one of her clawed fingers tapped against an off-colored card mixed in with the tickets.

Ferra gave him a chocolaty kiss on the cheek and thanked him for his help, mumbling an apology for tricking him. Her mother kissed him as well, thanked him, and whispered in his ear that more help was always available as long as he knew where to look.

It took awhile to get everyone herded back out into the hall and for once Fox was grateful for the snobbishness of the cafe droids, who were not above mildly electrocuting reporters to get them out of the way.

Since Bivi and her entourage were on their way out Fox corralled the two guardsmen, Divot and Banger, into helping him carry their gifted haul back to the office.

"Breathe one word and you're both on Sewer Inspection for a month," he growled.

They saluted, but he could tell they were still laughing behind their helmets. Good help was hard to find. Between them and the traitorous Rattle, the sewers were going to be safer than ever.

Once safely locked in his office, he inspected the concert tickets. In among the front-row tickets was a slip of paper with a string of numbers and a four digit code.

Just in case the Chancellor forgets to pass this along.

- Bivi

It was the Support Our Troops account she'd been raising money for. Fox didn't dare take a look, not yet.

In among the t-shirts, bags, branded glowsticks, and other Bivi-related paraphernalia were some encrypted comms, datapads, and some top-of-the-line jammers. Fox breathed out slowly, wondering exactly what he was getting into with this. Maybe it was time to comm Cody. Chances were he was the intended recipient anyway. After all, why would a famous pop star care about him in particular? He never made the holonews like Cody did.

He reached up to touch the spot where she'd kissed him and his fingers came away Corrie Crimson. Kriff. He checked his reflection in a datapad and saw two odd marks on his cheeks; one larger crimson one and a smaller black one. Kriff kriff kriff. Maybe he'd wind up on the holonews after all. Or at least, most definitely, the tabloids.

Sewer Inspection duty wasn't severe enough. He'd need to think up something worse.

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 47

Radio Freedom reported that the Starlight Drive-In had suffered a recent spike in insect attacks and raider harassment. Volunteers were needed to help keep any potential dangers occupied while additional security measures were built. I saw this as the perfect chance to test my new bodyguard's capabilities, and compatibility. We headed northwest.

The trip was mostly silent, apart from Cait’s occasional humming. I was happy to share the occasional cigarette with her, reasoning it was better than the syringe of psycho in her pack. She was skilled at sneaking past raiders and super mutants, though she grumbled something about “itching for a fight.” It wasn’t until we made camp for the night that she finally asked what our purpose was.

“We’re going to the Starlight Drive-In settlement to assist in strengthening their defenses. They’ve had some trouble with raiders.”

“Raiders, eh? Bunch of nobs if you ask me.”

Little more was said on the subject. The only disturbance during the night was a pair of bloodbugs and a radroach, earning a "Damn bugs, disgusting," from Cait after she smashed them with a baseball bat. We continued our trip up early in the morning and reached the Starlight Drive-In near noon.

As the projection screen came into view, Cait said, "I knew a bloke who owned a movie projector. He only had this one movie about a talkin' dog. It was shite, but heck, beggars can't be choosers."

I smiled at the image of this violent woman sitting and watching a plotless comedy. I took the anecdote to be a sign that she was starting to relax. She'd held a tense energy since the trip started, and I suspected that not all of it was related to her chem use.

Before we left Diamond City, Cait had opted to spend the first night drinking Vadim's patrons under a bar until he himself put her in one of the Dugout's beds, half charge (a one-time discount because he liked her and she's a "friend" of mine). Yefim informed me she woke "like a frightened animal" but immediately calmed down when he reminded her where she was. She wandered Diamond City for the morning, and came back to the house only after Valentine had left. Codsworth said she was brusque and clearly bored, but she was surprisingly pleasant to Shaun before he went out to play with Nat. She is not fond of Dogmeat, and the feeling seems to be mutual. Eventually, she made her way to the Agency just as Valentine and I were leaving for the night. I confess, her suspicion toward him has colored my opinion of her, even though I know full well it's the same reaction almost everyone has upon first meeting him. I try to remain rational whenever he is concerned, but some days are more difficult than others. Ellie reported that Cait was civil, tried to flirt with her a few times, and slept fitfully.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by a rumbling beneath my feet just before a radscorpion burst from the earth.

"Radscorp!" Cait shouted, "Don't let it sting ya!"

"I'm well aware!"

As Cait tumbled out of reach of its claws, I reminded myself to find some adequate armor for her. A laser blast from afar announced the arrival of one of the Drive-In's guards. The creature's attention turned to me as I fired at it. Cait seemed to take this as a personal slight.

"Skitterin' little shite!" she shouted as she fired her shotgun, "Come here!"

By now the Minuteman guard had reached us, his laser musket a welcome addition to the fight. Between the three of us the radscorpion fell, and the former cage-fighter scoffed triumphantly. The Minuteman chuckled, "You two headed for Starlight?"

"Yes," I said, amused. I didn't recognize this soldier, and the sensation was apparently mutual, "I heard you've been having trouble with raiders?"

"Yeah, odd bunch came through. We've been waiting for The Castle to send someone to lend a hand, but we'll gladly take help if you're offering."

"Yes. Lead the way." We started walking, "Wouldn't you expect help to come from Sanctuary, as it's closer?"

He was surprised, "You know Sanctuary?"

"Quite well."

"Huh. You one of the settlers up there?"

"I used to live there," I said, which was not a lie.

He nodded, "Haven't been there myself. They send the recruits that finish training to The Castle for assignments. Sort of a right of passage. I don't really understand why we need special training anyway, what we had before was always enough, but I guess our new General is fond of it."

"You haven't met him?"

"No, I got here just after he last passed through, just my luck. But one of the ladies at Starlight is Sanctuary-trained, and she's a hell of a shot and eager to please. Ronnie back at the Castle seems to like General Holmes, weird as he is."

"Weird?"

"Doesn't do much you'd expect from a General. Hardly ever wears the uniform, trusts Ronnie and that Garvey fella to run his army for him while he works as a detective?"

I chuckled, "It is unorthodox but, in my defense, the General uniform is horrifically impractical."

He blinked. Cait's timing was superb, "Oi, Holmes! Any chance a girl could get a drink in this place? Killin' giant crawlies always gets me thirst up."

"Assuming the rooftop bar is still in business," I grinned at our host's shock. "I do make a point of regularly visiting settlements, but I'm afraid I haven't stayed in Starlight recently. The last time I was here, Strong was still a resident."

The Minuteman remembered how to speak, "I heard about him! Everyone's been saying they're glad he's gone, but at least they didn't have to worry about raiders when he was here."

"I believe that." I held out a hand, "Apologies, we were never properly introduced."

"Name's Harrison," he shook my hand a moment before awkwardly realizing he should be saluting, "and I know who you are, sir. Uh, now."

I turned to introduce Cait, but she was already halfway to the concession stand, the fenced roof of which held a bar. So instead I asked, "What measures have been taken against the raiders, and what further assistance do you need?"

With a distinct professionalism, Harrison explained the security currently in place and outlined his ideas for improving it. He hoped to build two more guard posts and a number of traps around the perimeter, plus two more machine turrets. Construction on the guard posts was already underway, and the Sanctuary-trained Minuteman he'd mentioned earlier (a woman by the name of Carter) was overseeing the traps and turrets. I wondered if Sturges had been an influence on her field of interest.

I immediately set to work helping wherever I could, from construction to electronics to filling in guard shifts. Cait could at least be coaxed to help stand guard for short bursts through the day, but wanted nothing to do with manual labor. This ended up being to our benefit, because as the sun was just starting to set we heard her shout, "Good, I was hopin' to get in some target practice!"

Harrison had called the raiders who had last attacked the settlement an "odd bunch." Carter had provided further detail, describing them as "raiders with a robot fetish." I now understood what she meant.

Every raider attacking wore armor that looked like it had been stripped from a robot. Helmets made from eyebots, chest plates of a sentry bot, and limbs covered in an assortment of melded metals. Yet, they were still raiders, and charged the defenses with typical lack of organization.

I realized the Minutemen were waiting for my orders, and so I did my best impressions of Preston and Danse as I shouted instructions to soldier and settler alike. I had at least learned enough from my friends to hold back some raiders, even if they were more heavily armored than usual, and the settlement was successful with several injuries but no casualties.

Cait strode up to me with an aggressive confidence as the dust settled, beaming, "Nothing makes me happier than stompin' a bunch of Raiders."

"I'm glad to hear it," I said. "Your help was certainly appreciated." Carter was already seeing to the wounded and Harrison seeing to repairs of the defenses, so I turned my efforts to repairing houses. Cait, needing an outlet for her energy, tried to help.

"Only ever used these things to bash someone's head in," she said as she lifted a hammer.

"If you want to swing something destructive, you could use that axe and split that fallen tree over there," I suggested. "It won't be much use in construction, but it'll be cold tonight and the settlement is low on firewood."

"Prefer hittin' things that bleed, but sure," she said, and set to her task.

The repairs as well as finishing the defenses took the rest of the day. I decided we should stay the night and begin the trip back to Diamond City at first light. There was a single spare bed, which I told Cait she was welcome to as I was satisfied with a sleeping bag. She glared at me suspiciously, but didn't argue.

I settled into place and lit a cigarette. I silently offered her one as she perched on the edge of the bed. She took it, and after a moment said, "You know, after Tommy stuck me with you, I was expectin' to hate your guts."

I tried not to smirk, "I can only imagine."

"I keep waitin' for you to order me around like hired help. But you haven't. Hell, you've been damn near nice to me. Now I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but your kindness is startin' to make me wonder. If there's anythin' I learned at the Combat Zone, it was that nobody does things for other people without expectin' somethin' in return."

I watched her closely, quietly alarmed. "What exactly do you think I'm expecting in return?"

"Who knows?" She shrugged, irritated, "Doin' your laundry, takin' a bullet for you, haulin' your gear... what's the difference?" She sighed, "I don't think I'm getting' through to you. Let me explain what I mean, and then maybe you'll understand where I'm comin' from."

She told me of the three years she spent living in the Combat Zone before the raiders arrived. After they moved in, buying friends was essential to avoiding violence, or worse. She was waiting for me to hand her the bill, as it were.

I wish I could say I was surprised. "You don't owe me a thing."

"Now I'm havin' a real hard time believin' that."

"I don't doubt it. However, believe me or not, it remains true."

She thought for a moment. "I'll tell you what. Give me some time, and I'll think of somethin' I can do to repay you. I'm not a rich girl, but I'm sure we can agree on somethin'."

I smiled, "If you insist."

She shrugged again and lay down to sleep. "What are friends for?"

[singer-saboteur-soldier-spy]

The commander of the 9th unit balanced precariously on a tree limb, his wide, pointed audio panels slowly rotating back and forth as they strained for every sound that could reach them.

He could pick out a good many footsteps picking their way through the overgrowth below, but all of them were too light to be the Reploid they’d been sent to hunt. That Reploid had been designed to navigate this artificial environment. They would not be hindered by hanging vines and ‘fallen’ logs, or-

A shrill scream suddenly filled the open comm channel, followed swiftly by a horrible cacophony of shrieking and crunching metal. Shade Fox flinched visibly, and clamped one hand to the comm unit set into his helmet. Dimly, he heard several other voices cursing beneath the din. The disastrous sounds stopped a few moments later, leaving his audios ringing in the silence.

“What was that?!” Shade Fox demanded into the channel. “What happened? Team, sound off!”

[Ume here. Wasn’t me.] One

[Bark reporting. It was not me, either, sir.] Two.

[Issimo here….ow.] Three. Poor ‘loid must’ve had his audio sensitivity turned up.

[A-Azazel, here…] Four...oh no.

[Rubble here.] Five, and a pause. [Uh...sorry, everybody, that was me. Got spooked by this gigANTic bug thing - popped out of the ground and tried to turn Az into a midday snack.] Shade Fox bit back a growl. Azazel hadn’t been fully prepared for a mission of this caliber, but they were short-handed, and had needed all members available to case the jungle. It would have been….unfortunate, for his first major mission to be his last.

“Is he alright?” The commander asked, shoving any concern he may have felt to the back of his mind. He didn’t have room for frivolous emotions, today. This mission required only the most logical of thinking. “Azazel, do you require medical aid?”

[I-I’m fine, sir.] Azazel replied, this time. Shade Fox refused to believe that what he felt was relief. [It’s all just, ah…superficial damage.]

[He’ll live, but he ain’t in fighting condition.] Rubble corrected. [Those pincers crunched his buster good. It won’t shoot.]

“Keep him with you, then.” Shade Fox ordered, cautiously shifting his position on the branch, and scanning the area to be sure he hadn’t missed some movement or change for the distraction. “We don’t have time to send you both back to HQ, and I don’t want Azazel on his own - not with Neon Tiger running loose. Rubble, keep him safe, and keep an eye out for that….’bug thing’.”

[Ah, no worries, boss.] Rubble acknowledged. [I socked that thing hard right in the kisser. It won’t be coming back, if it knows what’s good for it.] Shade Fox simply hummed, and let the comm channel fall silent again. The aggressor did not, most likely, know what was good for it...but now that Rubble knew what to keep watch for, he would not be caught off guard again.

Shade Fox had trained him too well for that.

“Resume radio silence,” The Reploid ordered, adjusting his stance on the tree branch and bracing himself with one hand. “But keep your channels open. Any sound, any movement, any encounters get reported immediately, is that clear?” Shade Fox leapt from the branch - sailing through the air much like his animal inspiration - to land on another some distance away, close enough to the trunk that his weight wouldn’t shake the limb too noticeably. From there, he swung around the trunk, and started sliding down to the ground - his feet carefully braced to keep his claws from cutting clean through the artificial bark of the tree.

“Neon Tiger is a very skilled Reploid, and a dangerous foe.” Shade Fox landed in a crouch, and straightened up. He hadn’t been able to detect anything unusual from the higher vantage point, so perhaps he would have more luck along the ground. “He used to roam this preserve, and protect the wildlife here from poachers. His career was...unmarred by failure. Do not engage him until you have back-up. Issimo.”

[I have never disobeyed that order on purpose.] The spy retorted, brave enough to sound just the slightest bit offended. [But yes, sir. We read you loud and clear. We will not engage Neon Tiger without backup, sir.]

[xyriath]

Hung Up on You

Ship: Roy/Ed

Rating: PG-13 for pottymouth Ed

Summary: Colonel Edward Elric is pleased to have snapped up the latest alchemical genius to join the military, but for reasons more than his abilities.  And though Roy Mustang may be a looker, he's got an adorable awkwardness to him that Ed just wants to...

Well, eat up.

Notes: VERY VERY VERY VERY BELATED BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR MY DARLING @gettibucket THAT TOOK FOR GODDAMN EVER TO FINISH BUT I HOPE U LIKE BB!!!!!

—

“Boss?”

Ed chewed on the end of the pen, the words vaguely penetrating his concentration as he stared at the capelet obnoxiously obscuring his vision.  His eyes narrowed slightly, and he wondered, if he asked to borrow it…

“Boss.”

Ed finally tore his eyes away from that regrettably covered ass, removing the pen from his mouth and dragging his gaze over to Havoc, grimacing.

“What?”

Havoc glanced in the direction that Ed had just been ogling, raising an eyebrow and lowering his voice.  “Could you be any more obvious?”

“Probably,” Ed deadpanned back, utterly unrepentant.  “Have you seen him when he talks to me?  I haven’t seen someone trip over their own two feet so much since Elicia was learning to walk.”

Havoc rolled his eyes, and Ed muttered, “Insubordination!”  This didn’t save him from the file slapping down onto his desk, and with a sigh, Ed opened it.

“Time to get a different view of him, then.  Also, your own damn secretary.  I’m tired of delivering papers for you.”

“It’s just ‘cause you look so good when you walk in,” Ed shot back without much force, skimming the papers.  Idly, he wondered if it were his skill with alchemy or the laid-back nature of his team that had kept him from getting nailed with fraternization accusations in the past few years. Probably both.  He clicked his tongue, then looked back up.

“Hey, Mustang!”

The newest member of his team straightened from where he had been searching through the bookshelf, turning to face Ed, eyes wide at the force of the statement.

“Colonel?”  Mustang even saluted.  Adorable.

Ed beckoned him over with two crooked fingers, raising an eyebrow.  For someone eight years Ed’s senior, the man had a remarkably difficult time making eye contact with him.  And only him: Havoc, Fuery, Breda, Falman, Ross; Mustang seemed to be fine with them, but the moment he came within a few feet of Ed…

Like Ed had said.  Not very subtle.

“I’ve got some questions from the higher-ups about the history you provided. Sounds to me like you’ve been everywhere.”  He flicked through the folder.  “I think they wanna know if you’ve got connections or something.  Know people there.  East City in particular, apparently.   Looks like you might be in the running for a special mission.  Who the fuck knows?”

Mustang shifted in his seat, then glanced down at his knees, hands twisting in his lap.  “I don’t think I can be of much help there, sir.  I’ve been to most places across Amestris, yes, but that was with my father.  I grew up traveling with him, and we never stayed anywhere long.  I would mostly stay in the hotel rooms we rented, and certainly never got a chance to speak with anyone.”

Ed glanced back down at the file, twirling a bang around an automail finger.  That certainly explained plenty.  No wonder he could barely hold a conversation.  Or flirt properly.  He toyed briefly with the idea of reining it in.  He’d keep an eye out for any signs to back off, but when Ed glanced back up, Mustang’s eyes had fixed on the hand.  As soon as he realized Ed had spotted him, however, he flushed and turned away.

…So maybe not.  Ed smirked slightly.

“Well, you’ll get plenty of opportunity to travel in more favorable conditions if you want.”  Ed snapped the file shut with an air of finality.  “So, onto other matters.  You’ve heard about Lieutenant Ross’s promotion?”

Mustang nodded, turning back to Ed, seeming to relax now that he wasn’t the topic of conversation.  Well, he should enjoy it for the couple seconds it lasted.  “To First Lieutenant, yes?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”  Ed leaned back in his chair, his expression innocent.  So innocent, in fact, that any of the rest of his team could have spotted trouble a mile away.  “I’m taking the team out to drinks tonight to celebrate.  All on me.  You should join us.”

“Join—me?”  Mustang drew back, looking a little alarmed.  “You shouldn’t go through the trouble—”

Ed waved his hand.  “Nonsense.  You’re part of the team, aren’t you?   Everyone else is coming.  Nice chance to socialize a little more.”

He grinned, and he could see Mustang hesitate.  “You mean that?” he asked, and the combination of wariness and hope in his voice startled Ed, prompting a small jumping sensation in his chest that he hadn’t expected.  But then again, he shouldn’t be surprised: going from a life of isolation like Mustang had described straight into a team that he had been built on camaraderie had to be a jarring shift.

“Of course,” he said firmly, grinning, and this time he could feel the sincerity shining through instead of the smirk.  “I know we’d all like to see you here.  Me especially.”

At that, Mustang went an adorable shade of pink, glancing away and trying to look unaffected.

Ed’s smirk returned.

—

Though Ed ended up working late, too late to go back home to change, he always kept a few spare sets of clothes in his office.  More importantly, he always kept a spare set of absolutely, completely work inappropriate clothes alongside them.

When he stepped into the bar, he knew he turned heads.  It might be the golden hair, freshly brushed and tied in a high ponytail, bangs framing a dark face with matching golden eyes.  It might be the hint of eyeliner, smudged underneath those eyes, or the sleeveless red shirt that showed off his arms, one tanned and muscled, the other silver and gleaming in the low light.

Or, it might be the tight black leather pants.  Who knew?

Ross, Havoc, Breda, and even Fuery had dressed to similar effects, knowing the bar and its unofficial dress code, though Ed probably pushed the boundaries a bit more than them.  Falman had gone for safe.  Mustang had opted for a suit, but…

Well, he certainly didn’t wear it the way Ed expected.

Instead of neatly pressed and buttoned, it hung open, the white collared shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to leave you curious about what would happen if you popped it open one more.  He had shoved the dark sleeves up to reveal a really, really nice set of forearms, by virtue of belonging to Roy fucking Mustang.  His hair, messy as ever, fell into eyes that the dim light of the bar seemed to make even darker.

It all culminated in a rumpled effect that, somehow, unbelievably, managed to convey ‘effortless sex on legs.’

Formerly smug and confident in his own appearance, the sight quickly sent Ed into a tailspin of no fucking fair!

“Colonel!”

Despite the look, Mustang didn’t seem to be much different.  He straightened, eyes wide, and tried to salute.  Noticing the drink in his hand, Ed’s left hand darted out to clasp around his wrist, stopping him from lifting it before he spilled.

“Calm down, soldier,” he teased, offering a careless grin in Roy’s direction.  “No need for formality here.  Hell, you can even call me Ed.  The rest of them do.  Mostly.”

Roy swallowed, nodding as he lowered his drink, glancing at Ed’s hand on his with mild alarm.  Ed admired the flush that crept up his cheeks for a few moments before releasing it.

“Then I suppose,” he murmured, voice soft, but the glance he shot Ed as he looked up was anything but, “you should call me Roy?  While we’re off-duty, of course.”

Ed grinned brightly over at him, and something tiny in Roy seemed to relax at having read the situation correctly.  He lifted his drink to take another sip, and Ed didn’t miss the slight lack of coordination in the movement.

“How many have you had?” Ed asked, trying to restrain his face back into something that wasn’t a smirk.  Roy glanced up from over the rim of the glass, then lowered it.

“This is my first one.”

Ed snorted softly, then leaned over to the bar, watching Roy out of the corner of his eye as he ordered a drink for himself.  Roy didn’t miss the opportunity to glance at the assets displayed in the leather pants. Good.  He needed a confidence booster.

“Better watch it, then.” He took the drink offered, a real Risembool Moonshine—one of the many reasons he chooses this place to frequent—and turned back to Roy, who looked faintly indignant.

“I’m not drunk!” he protested.

“No, but you look like you might be soon.”  Ed took a sip, grinning at the apple pie aftertaste that chased the burning.  Perfect.  “Y’know, for someone way bigger than me and all your limbs, I have a feeling I’m gonna end up outdrinking you.”

Roy scoffed, but of course Ed’s words prompted jeering from Breda and Havoc, demanding a drinking contest.  Ross put a halt to that, insisting that they could get smashed once she’d had a chance to squeeze several more drinks out of Ed.

“Glad to know you guys keep me around for a reason,” he retorted, swigging the moonshine when she grinned innocently over at him.

In the end, it didn’t even take a drinking contest.  Just three drinks with… slight strength.

“Y-you see, it’s not about the fire!” Roy chattered, hands waving animatedly as Havoc and Ed stared at him intently.  “It’s the—the damn oxygen!  You just gotta… y’know.”  He waved his hand again, this time dismissively. “You gotta control that.  And when you… uh…”

He frowned in concentration, and Ed lifted two fingers, placing them against his lips with a grin.

“Now, now, don’t go around sharin’ your secrets.  It’s bad form, and y’never know when someone’ll try to grab ‘em and usurp you.  Or use ‘em for evil.  Whichever bugs you the most.”

Roy’s eyes went wide, and he froze.  “My god, you’re right.  There could be spies anywhere!  Drachman spies!”

His lips moved against Ed’s fingers, and Ed couldn’t help but laugh.  He reached over instead to pat Roy’s shoulder.  “Somethin’ like that, yeah.  Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Roy nodded solemnly, hilariously so, then lifted his hands to take Ed’s, the one on his shoulder, and held it to his chest, staring down at Ed with an intensity that left even his heart almost stuttering.

“This… this is why ‘m so glad I got you,” he murmured, eyes burning.  “’Cause you know this shit.  You’re… you’re damn brilliant, and so good, even when you were younger—shit, I can’t believe I was this lucky.  And my god, you’re gorgeous, too, and I just…”  He shook his head, stepping closer with a wobble.  “Could I kiss you?  God, I wanna kiss you.  But…”  He let Ed’s hand fall, looking suddenly heartbroken.  “But that would be seducing a superior officer, wouldn’ it?  Shit,” he groaned.

Ed stared at him, jaw dropping, trying to suddenly come to terms with the fact that, yes, he had just heard those words leaving Roy’s mouth.

Havoc seemed to have made himself scarce.

“Well, I mean, if you’re concerned about that sort of thing,” Ed said carefully, refraining from mentioning that he had never given a terrible amount of fucks about fraternization.  Though he would eagerly say yes to this in a heartbeat, he hadn’t expected it to come across as a drunk confession, and that made navigating the already tricky waters of consent even harder.   He hadn’t made the first movement for a reason, after all.  No need to put pressure on Roy.  He wasn’t interested in this unless Roy wanted it, too.

“And do you?”

Ed leaned back, tilting his head, and this time, Roy wasn’t even subtle with the way his eyes dragged up the dark skin of his neck.

“Tell you what, Roy.  You still feel the same way tomorrow, sober, ask me then.”  Ed smirked.  “Alone, preferably.”

Roy’s eyes went wide, and Ed didn’t know what mental image he had conjured up, but it seemed to be a very nice one indeed.  He held this expression for a moment, then looked crestfallen again, and Ed winced, feeling as if he had kicked a puppy.

“So I can’t kiss you now?”

Despite the very, very tempting mournful look from those beautiful dark eyes, Ed took a step back, smiling wryly.

“No, Roy.  Not yet.”

—

Havoc insisted, nursing a hangover with a book spread open over his eyes, that one day, Ed was going to be too old to drink that much moonshine before coming into work the next morning.  Ed, bright-eyed and chipper, flipped him off with a loud “Fuck you, Lieutenant!” at a pitch and volume that left Havoc wincing.

Ross seemed to be faring a little better, while Breda seemed as untouched as Ed.  Roy… well, Ed couldn’t exactly tell how Roy was feeling, not with how his face was buried in an atlas.

“Taking me up on that chance to travel, Mustang?” Ed called, shuffling through his paperwork and then organizing it in chronological order (where it had previously been in alphabetical) to make it look like he was doing something.

Mustang only made a quiet noise, not looking up, and Breda snorted.

“Told him he shouldn’t bother, but he’s apparently doing that one assignment you got from General Hawkeye.  You know, mapping out those latest alchemical incidents, which you were supposed to do to see if there was a pattern?  The one she wanted last week?”

Ed went still.  Oh, yeah, that had been a thing, but honestly, he had things due that were way later than a week.  He’d face her wrath later.

“Any luck?”

“Some, sir,” Mustang murmured, still not looking up, reaching out to take another pin and place it in a spot that seemed to be southwest of Central.  “Nothing concrete yet, though.”

“That’s not what he said a half hour ago,” Ross murmured, placing the open folder of her weapons certification on his desk.  “Sounded like he was close to cracking it.”

“Mmm.”  Ed signed with a flourish.  “Y’don’t say.”  He lifted his voice. “Havoc, go get some coffee, and do some actual work for a change.  And take a babysitter if you’re not sure you won’t get distracted.”

“Guess that means me,” Breda broke in, stepping over and scooping his arm through Havoc’s.  “C’mon.”

“But boss!” Havoc whined, letting himself be led away.  “This is the only place I can sleep without getting yelled at!”

“I’ll start yelling if you don’t leave me alone.”  He handed the folder back to Ross.  “High-pitched.  Singing, even, and you’ve heard me sing.”

Havoc made a terrified noise.  “Oh, god.  Get me outta here, Heymans.”

“Go find a supply closet to sleep in like the rest of us!” Ed called after them.

Ross let out a soft snort, tucking the folder under her arm.  “Is that what you use supply closets for, sir?” she muttered.

Ed turned, eyebrows raised, expression innocent, and said archly, “Not anymore I don’t.  Not with my office.”

Ross wrinkled her nose.  “And with that, I am leaving.  I’ll see you later, Colonel.  And by later I mean, as far away from this moment as I can justify.”

The door clicked behind her, and Ed lifted his head. His team had their flaws, sure, but they at least knew when to exit a room.

It took Roy several minutes to realize that they were alone.

He lifted his head, glancing around, eyes going wide as they took in the empty room.  Slowly, so very slowly, they slid over to Ed, then quickly looked away.

Ed sighed, standing, then walked over in Roy’s direction.  “I don’t bite, you know.”  He paused, considering, then tilted his head.  “Unless you want me to.”

Roy let out a panicked choke, shoving suddenly away from the atlas, then turning to cough frantically into his arm.  When he finished, he turned back to Ed, looking up at him with a mournful, almost panicked expression.

“I… last night, I was absolutely… I shouldn’t have…  I’m so sorry—”

Ed winced.  He didn’t usually feel guilty about this sort of thing, but most parties were usually both on the same page about what they wanted, too.  He reached out, gently taking Roy’s shoulders, trying to smile reassuringly.

“Hey, hey.  Look, it’s okay.  I’m not upset.  How much d’you remember?  All of it?”

Looking away again, Roy nodded once.

“Then hey, that’s somethin’.  I’m not upset.  Hell, couldn’t be further from it.  You don’t gotta be embarrassed.  I meant what I said, too.  If you actually still want anything, you just gotta tell me.  But if not, you say so, right now, and we’ll both forget this ever happened.”  Ed’s smile crooked up on one side.  “Deal?”

At that, Roy seemed to remember how to breathe, and he nodded slowly.  Ed didn’t miss the relief flooding his face, and he dropped his hands from his shoulders, congratulating himself on a crisis averted.

…Maybe.  As a blush crept back up Roy’s face, Ed wondered what it was this time.

Roy cleared his throat, head turning further away, the same way he did when Ed flirted a little too blatantly.

“What’s up?” Ed asked, eyebrow raising.

Roy shifted in his seat for a few more moments, but Ed let him think.  His patience rewarded him with a shy but hopeful glance upwards.

“…So, when you say you meant what you said, you mean…”

“I mean,” Ed finished for him as it became clear that the trailing off wasn’t likely to start back up again, “that if you wanna kiss, I’d be happy to, but if you don’t, we can forget about it.”

“No!”  Roy sat bolt upright, dark eyes widening again, and this time they met Ed’s.  “No, that’s not what I…”  He cleared his throat, then swallowed. Though his blush deepened, he didn’t look away this time.  “That’s not what I want.”

Ed tilted his head, trying not to let the grin inside him split too quickly over his face, scare Roy off.  “So what’s the problem?”

“I… well, fraternization, for one.  Well, for all. That’s the main problem.  I know we’re not supposed to, and since you’re my commanding officer…”

Ed nodded.  “Yeah, I can get how that might be concerning, and that’s why I’m sayin’ you can step away now, if you want.  Or whenever.  You could—well, you could say yes today and tell me to fuck off tomorrow and I’d get it.  No pressure.”

“But the rules?”

Ed snorted.  “Yeah, there are those.  And we’d be breakin’ them.  If that’s a problem, again, you can tell me to fuck off.”

“N-no!”  Roy sat up at that, eyes gleaming with… was that excitement?

Ed finally let himself grin.

“You like that?” he murmured, leaning in, eyes beginning to gleam as well, he knew.  “The idea of it bein’ a secret?  Never struck me much as a rulebreaker, Major Mustang.”

“I’m not!” Roy gasped, but the expression on his face of suppressed excitement said otherwise.

“Can’t fool me,” Ed murmured, leaning in so close that their noses almost touched.  “Now, I just have one last question—”

Roy, of course, ruined his smooth delivery of, ‘Can I kiss you now?’ by leaning in with a gasp and pressing his mouth against Ed’s.

It wasn’t even a particularly skilled kiss, a little harsh, a little clumsy, but something about the eagerness, the earnestness, that sent a thrill deeper into his bones than anything from a more experienced partner could have.  He lifted his left hand to gently take Roy’s jaw, tilting it up and slightly to the side, correcting the angle.  Once Roy seemed to have the hang of that, he slid the hand around to the back of Roy’s neck, sliding his fingers up through that dark hair, softer even than he’d fantasized about.

Roy’s lips parted slightly underneath his, and he took the opportunity to flick a tongue out, just a tiny bit, to tease at pressing inside.

With a gasp, Roy jumped back, eyes wider than Ed had ever seen them, blush an attractive crimson color.

“Sorry,” Ed murmured, but his smirk dampened the apology.  “Should I not have done that?”

“No!” Roy gasped.  “I mean, yes, that was—you should have.  Should.  Do.   Still.”  He cleared his throat, reaching his hand up to straighten his hair.

“Noted.”  Ed said the word easily, then turned on his heel, walking briskly towards the door.  With one quick motion, he locked it.

When he turned back, Roy had stood, watching him, a combination of eagerness and nervousness that forced Ed to bite his lip to keep from fucking losing it.

“S-sir—”

“Roy,” Ed breathed, striding over in a few long steps, reaching up to straighten his hands down his chest.   “When we’re like this, call me Ed.”

Roy’s hands lifted to lightly grip Ed’s waist, and Ed grinned, sharklike.  This was going to be fun.

“All right.”  Roy swallowed, and Ed admired the bob of his throat as he did.  “Ed.”

“Perfect,” Ed breathed, and with an experienced twist, he pushed Roy back towards his desk.  Roy followed, a little alarmed and very surprised, until the backs of his thighs hit the wood.  He paused, clearly thinking Ed would stop there, and then let out an alarmed yelp as an automail hand pressed into his chest, tipping him back onto the desk.

Ed leaned over him, bracing that hand next to his head, grinning as their noses actually touched this time.

“Ed, what are you…”

“Please, Roy,” Ed drawled, pressing his left finger to Roy’s lips, then leaning in to kiss him, long and slow.  “Please.  I can tell you’ve got a lot to learn, and it’s about time we get started.”