#kixagen

[blackkatmagic]

Hi Kat, thanks for doing prompts!

Agen takes the hit on Geonosis that was meant for Tan. Zabraks may be sturdier than humans but its looking bad. Tan does his best to protect his master but they only survive thanks to the intervention of the clones.

There are hundred of reasons why Tan should turn around and keep fighting right now but he can't bring himself to leave his Master.

“You're okay,” he says desperately, clutching familiar dark hands even though he knows the words are wrong, a lie. “You're going to be fine, Master, it’s okay, Master Allie will be here soon, okay?”

Agen's fingers close tight around his, even as he takes another bubbling breath, and Tan can't remember ever being so scared in his life. He leans over Agen, eyes burning from something other than the dust, the echo of Jedi dying that ripples through the Force. He should get up and go and help fight, because one more lightsaber and one more body might save someone, but—

The person Tan wants most to save is right in front of him.

Agen turns his head, fingers loosening just a little, and the flicker of emotion Tan gets from him is a warning, sharp and alert. Instantly, Tan throws himself to his feet, spins with his lightsaber already lit, and blocks a shot from the advancing ranks of droids. There are other Jedi behind them, Master Windu and Master Secura fighting back to back, but they're not close enough. All the Jedi are being pushed back, surrounded, and Tan managed to drag Agen out of the worst of the fighting but now that means they're alone.

Jango Fett is above them, on the balcony with Dooku's body, and he’s watching like this is fun. Tan’s never hated anyone before, but—he thinks this might be able to make him.

With a cry, he ducks a blaster bolt, lunges. Cuts through the first droid, then the second, but the third one almost hits him, and there’s one passing him. Agen could stop them, even with just a lightsaber, all on his own, but Tan has only been a padawan for two years, isn't nearly as good a swordsman. He only just deflects a flurry of shots, staggers at the impact, and his heel is right against Agen's side. There's nowhere to retreat to, and he can't—

A transport drops from the sky, right between the circle of the remaining Jedi and the droids advancing on Tan, and bodies in white and blue armor spill out. There's a cry, blaster-fire, and the droids turn to face the new enemy, abandoning Tan and Agen in a rush to regroup.

Tan staggers, feels the stinging in his arm where a bolt grazed him, but doesn’t pause. Throws himself down, grabbing for Agen again, but he’s still, he’s terrifyingly still, and Tan’s breath catches. He fumbles for Agen's wrist, searching desperately for a pulse, and for a horrifying moment he can't find one.

“Master,” he says, choked, not able to breathe. Agen took that bolt for him, and Tan knows how sturdy Zabraks are, knows that something that left Agen this hurt would have killed him outright, but if Agen dies for him, if Agen dies and he doesn’t—

“Sir!” a voice cries, unfamiliar, and a soldier, this one in blue and white with a white pack on his back and red medic symbols on his armor, throws himself against the last rank of droids, blasts one, drops low and slams his shoulder into another. Tan sees the droid behind him raising its blaster and throws a hand up, gets a hold of the droid and jerks, and it tears into pieces. The soldier doesn’t even glance back; he covers the remaining distance between them at a dead run, hits the ground on his knees with his pack already halfway off.

“Are you hurt?” he demands, even as he grabs for a hypo, for a dermal mender. Tan’s breath shudders out of him with relief, and he nods quickly, rising to his feet again and stepping forward to guard the medic. There's no need, though; the soldiers are pushing the droids back, overwhelming them, and the space around them has opened up. The Jedi are pushing forward, and the soldiers are advancing to meet them, and the constant, steady press of death in the Force is pausing as the Jedi stop dying.

“No,” he manages, and hates how it still shakes. Someday he’ll be as steady under pressure as Agen, but—not today. Not when his Master almost died for him. “Master Kolar took the shot because he was protecting me.”

The trooper raises his head for just an instant, then refocuses. “Can you help me?” he asks. “Over here, hold this.”

Tan hurries around to Agen's other side, takes the dermal mender that the man passes him. “Who are you?” he asks, because there are hundredsof soldiers landing, filling the arena.

The man reaches up, pulls off his helmet and sets it aside, and casts Tan a smile. It’s Jango Fett's face, but—different. Tan’s never seen him smile before, and this man has his hair clipped short, lightning bolts shaved into the sides. “We’re clones,” he says, and then leans forward, putting a hand on Agen's chest as he jerks. “Sorry, sir. I'm sorry. Just a minute, I’ve almost got your lung back in one piece.”

Agen's hand gropes, finds Tan’s knee, grips hard, and his dark eyes slide open. “Tan,” he manages, and the clone makes a soothing noise in his throat.

“I'm here, Master,” Tan says, though he doesn’t move. “And so is—”

“Kix,” the man finishes for him, after a brief hesitation.

“Kix,” Tan repeats, and leans forward a little, watching Agen's gaze flicker to him. He smiles as best he can, and says, “Kix is helping you, Master. You're really going to be okay.”

“You are,” Kix agrees, and there's something soft in his voice. After another minute, he sets his device aside, then takes the mender Tan is holding. “Can you get me some bacta patches? He’s going to need some time in a tank, but this should hold until he can get there.”

Tan hurries to get the patches, pulling out two of them. Jango, he notices, is gone from the balcony, though Dooku's body is still there.

“Thank you,” he says, and kneels down next to Kix, offering the patches. “I thought—”

Kix grips his shoulder for just a moment, then presses the patches down and seals them to Agen's skin. “There you are, sir,” he says, sitting back, and Agen raises a hand, touches the patches, then reaches out. Instantly, Tan grabs him, lets himself be pulled down, and all but collapses on Agen's chest, clutching at him desperately. Feels the relief, the regret, the love, and has to close his eyes so that he doesn’t cry.

“You're well, Tan,” Agen murmurs against his hair, a little rough, a little ragged, but there. “You're well. Thank you. You’ve been brave.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Tan demands, though he already knows it won't matter. Nothing can change Agen's mind when he decides to do something, and Tan already knows just how much Agen loves him. Enough to die for him, if he thinks it’s necessary, and Tan hopes it never is again. He’ll make sure it never is again.

Agen huffs softly, then tips his head, offering Kix a nod. “Thank you as well,” he says, and reaches out.

Kix hesitates for a fraction of a second, then catches Agen's hand. His face looks a little flushed, but he smiles. “My pleasure, sir. You're—I'm glad I could help.”

Agen closes his eyes again, clearly exhausted, clearly still in pain, but he tips his head. “Find me,” he says, quiet. “Later. After. So I can thank you properly.”

Tan smiles, pressing his face into the pale, blood-stained cloth of Agen's robes. He’ll make sure Kix does. It seems like the least he can do.

[On AO3]

[sloaners]

some star wars for @blackkatmagic

[rose-blooms-red]

“You’re free to stay, if you wish. I enjoy your company and if you aren’t needed elsewhere—” Agen shrugs, long, dark hair slipping over his shoulder.

Kix blinks, gives himself a second to think, he wants to stay but his duties—.

When Kix thinks about it though, the medbay is almost completely cleared of injuries and everyone on shift at the moment is more than capable of taking care of whatever idiots happen to injure themselves right now. He could spare a couple of hours, right?

or, Kix gets something nice out of needing to patch someone up for once and I blame @blackkatmagic for plopping this rarepair in my lap and then making me want more content for them

[blackkatmagic]

kix/agen with kix as a starfleet medical officer and agen as a klingon warrior (whether enemy, ally, or fellow starfleet officer)?

This mission, Kix thinks with resignation, isn't going his way at all.

Carefully, gingerly, he shifts on the bare floor of the cell, trying not to pull too hard at the cuffs wrapping all the way up to his elbows. Klingons are thorough, apparently. At least when they’re locking someone up. Kix wishes they’d been a little less so; he’s starting to lose all feeling in his hands, and his hands are valuable.

Not that the Klingons will listen if he complains, likely. Kix is a prisoner of war, and is probably headed for either execution or use as a bargaining chip in a prisoner exchange.

Outside the brig, there's a rumble of voices, the guttural sound of Klingon spoken quickly. A moment later, heavy steps retreat, and there's a pause.

Then, quiet, the door slides open.

Heartbeat rabbiting, Kix freezes, resisting the urge to shove himself back into the corner to hide as a Klingon warrior enters. He’s slenderer than some Kix has seen so far, but heavily armed, and his dark eyes slide right to Kix as he keys the door closed again behind him. For a long moment, there's complete silence as he stares, and Kix stares back, edging towards terrified but trying to hide it.

“You're scared of me,” the Klingon finally says, his Federation Standard accented but clear. He takes two steps closer to the bars of Kix's cell, looming there, and Kix swallows hard.

“I'm a prisoner,” he says evenly. “Of course I'm scared.”

The Klingon considers this for a long moment, gaze still unwavering. “Fear is best faced and conquered,” he says.

“I have no control over my own life right now,” Kix retorts. “I can't conquer anything when you could decide to kill me at any moment.”

The Klingon snorts quietly. “You Humans view fear very differently,” he says, and touches the keypad outside the cell. The door clicks open, and Kix scrambles to his feet as best he can, facing the Klingon as he enters. There's no way Kix is going to be able to defeat a Klingon warrior with his hands cuffed behind him, but he’s not about to take any abuse lying down, either.

“What do you want with me?” Kix challenges, lifting his chin.

“My name is Agen Kolar,” the Klingon says, and circles Kix with quiet steps. “You are a Starfleet medical officer, yes?”

Kix breathes in, breathes out. “Chief Medical Officer of the starship Resolute,” he says grimly. “Kix.”

Agen comes to a halt in front of him, tilting his head as he looks Kix over again. “That is a high rank.”

“I earned it,” Kix shoots back. “I'm a good doctor, and my crew needs me—”

“Then we had best return you to them,” Agen says simply, and steps forward, right into Kix.

Kix's brain shorts out, and he stares blankly at the curtain of long black hair that’s filling his vision as Agen leans around him, and—

With a click, his cuffs give way, tumbling off his arms to clang against the floor, and Agen carefully pulls them forward, rubbing his fingers up and down the sore muscle. Kix hisses at the rush of pins and needles, wanting to twitch back but knowing he needs to encourage blood flow, and grits his teeth at the ache.

“I apologize,” Agen says quietly. “I had to wait until the change of the guard to come for you.”

“Why?” Kix asks, bewildered. “Aren’t you—are you releasing me? why?”

“Rescuing you,” Agen confirms, and there's just a hint of a smirk at the edge of his mouth. “There is a shuttle waiting for us, and your ship will be within hailing range in a few hours.”

A shuttle waiting for us, Kix thinks, and swallows. “You're coming with me?” he asks, and something knots in his stomach. “But—if you get taken by the Federation you’ll just be in the same position—”

There's a moment of silence, and then Agen touches Kix's cheek. It’s just a light brush of knuckles, but it washes heat right down to Kix's bones.

“That’s fine,” Agen says evenly. “I refuse to fight this war when my people take medical officers prisoner, and slate them for execution. The Federation is not blameless, but it is more lenient. I will take my chances.”

Kix can't help it. He grabs Agen's hands, opens his mouth—

Agen kisses him, once, soft, and then straightens. “A last request,” he says, and then grips Kix's arm gently and pulls him out of the cell. Kix doesn’t have time to even come up with a response before he’s being marched through the halls of the Klingon ship, but—

Fleet Admiral Windu owes Kix a favor. Admiral Kenobi does too. If Kix goes to them, if he begs for them to help Agen, if he puts all of his influence behind it, maybe.

Maybe he can save Agen, too.

[On AO3]

[blackkatmagic]

Oooo, kix/agen and kix running himself ragged taking care of others and getting taken care of by agen?

Kix isn't asleep at his desk. Technically. He just has his head down despairing over Torrent’s most recent mission report, potentially with his eyes closed. Given the mission report, it’s a perfectly reasonable reaction that anyone with sense would have. And if he’s maybe not as alert as he should be, well, Anakin ended up in the medbay again, barely hanging on after getting bitten by something, and Kix was up late making sure he didn’t flatline again. There’s only so much caf can do for a body.

He doesn’t hear the door open. He doesn’t hear the quiet steps that cross the room, or see the shadow that falls over him. But he definitely feels the way he’s suddenly scooped up off his stool and hauled up into the air.

With a yelp, Kix comes awake, automatically grabbing for the closest solid object. His hands hit hard muscle, then something soft, and fist. There’s a hissed breath, but the arms holding him up don’t drop him, just wrap around him more tightly, and a low, careful voice says, “Peace. I was just moving you.”

Over the pounding of his heart, Kix registers the fact that he has one hand knotted in long black hair, his face mashed into a dark-skinned throat. He sucks in a breath, breathes out, and manages, “General Kolar?”

Agen tilts his head, that long hair tugging at Kix's fist. Hastily, he opens his hand, and Agen makes a sound of thanks, though he doesn’t put Kix down. Instead, he carries him right out of the medbay, and Kix squawks. He jerks in Agen's hold, reaching back towards the doors as they shut, but Agen's grip doesn’t even move.

This is probably a bad time to remember just how strong Zabraks are compared to Humans, and all the vague thoughts Kix may have entertained about how far that strength extends.

Shoving those images down, Kix makes a concerted effort to wiggle out of Agen's hold. “General Kolar, what are you doing? I'm on shift—”

“Your shift ended six hours ago,” Agen says calmly, and steps into the lift at the end of the hall. “Lieutenant Cub told me. He’s taking over the end of your shift, and he and the ship’s medical personnel will split the next one as well.”

“What?” Kix says, bewildered, and then, as he realizes he’s still being cradled in Agen's arms, “Put me down!”

“No,” Agen says, and that’s calm too. “Captain Rex warned me about your inability to rest after a mission, and with Knight Skywalker still unconscious, it falls to me to take care of his men.”

Kix is going to have a hypo full of rare and unnecessary vaccines ready the next time Rex so much as pokes his nose into the medbay, he decides. With a huff, he sinks into Agen's hold, making himself as heavy as possible, and refuses to admire the fact that Agen's hands don’t even shift. “I was just fine—”

“You were asleep at your desk,” Agen says, not un-gently, and as the lift comes to a halt he passes through the doors and down a darkened hallway. “As you’ve told me more than once, beds are far superior for sleeping.”

“You were asleep standing up, that doesn’t count—”

“Kix,” Agen interrupts, and shifts him into one arm to dial in a door code. “You need rest. Torrent’s mission and the aftermath were more than any one person should be expected to deal with.”

“There's still paperwork, though,” Kix says, even though he knows it’s futile. He twists a little to avoid banging his head on the doorway as they enter the room, and catches a hint of Agen's smile as Agen lowers him down onto a neatly-made bed.

“Yes,” Agen agrees gravely, like Kix can't see the flicker of humor in his dark eyes. “There's always more paperwork. It will still be there when you’ve rested, though, and most of the important parts are already filed.”

“I guess,” Kix says with bad grace, and then squawks when Agen drops to his knees and starts unbuckling his boots. “General!”

“Call me Agen. Master Kolar, if you insist on being formal.” Agen glances up at him, horns and dotted tattoos catching the light, and smiles faintly. “Let me take care of you, Kix.”

It occurs to Kix, suddenly, that he can't remember ever seeing Agen smile before. And he’s been looking.

It’s hard not to, with a man like Agen Kolar.

“Agen?” he asks, caught off guard, not sure how to do otherwise, and hears Agen's quiet hum of thanks as gentle hands pull his boots off, set them aside. Agen sits back, watching Kix for a moment, and then gracefully rises to his feet, stepping over to a tiny table with a small pot and two cups on top of it.

“This will help you sleep,” he says, pouring out enough for both of them and then turning to offer Kix one of the cups. When Kix eyes it warily, Agen snorts, settling beside him on the bed and crossing his legs beneath himself. “It’s only herbs. My Master taught me to make it, to help with bad missions.”

Carefully, Kix wraps both hands around the cup, then takes a breath of the steam. It doesn’t smell unpleasantly herbal, the way he feared; instead, all he can smell are flowers, and the scent alone is enough to unspool some of the tension that’s been coiled around his spine for days now.

“Thank you,” he says, quiet, almost ragged.

Agen inclines his head. “It’s my pleasure to help you relax in any way I can,” he says, and Kix has to close his eyes against far too many inappropriate images that rise. He’s…probably too tired to do any of them justice, anyway. Instead, he just takes a sip of the tea, then breathes out, and wonders why it feels like he hasn’t breathed at all since Torrent started taking fire three days ago.

“It’s good,” he says softly.

There's a touch on his shoulder, and then Agen slides back, bracing his back against the wall. He reaches out, and Kix stares at his pretty hand for a long moment, only seeing those long, clever, callused fingers for several seconds until the meaning behind the gesture strikes him. Then, startled, he jerks his head up, staring at Agen.

“Touch is a comfort among Zabraks, too,” Agen says, watching him. “I can take you back to your barracks if you’d prefer, but if touch would help right now, and you would like to keep your weariness private, I want to help you.”

Kix's throat closes, to the point that it’s hard to swallow. He’d—wanted. Wanted to go back to the bunkroom and curl up with Jesse or Fives or Echo, but—

If they’d known how scared he was, they would have known how precarious the general’s state was, and Kix can't do that to them. General Skywalker is what keeps them going. They can't know he was in so much danger that Kix was barely able to keep him stable.

With a low, rough sound that’s half relief and half gratitude, Kix grabs Agen's hand, lets himself be pulled close. He curls against Agen's chest, burying his face in that long black hair, and just…clings. Lets himself need, and lets himself take, and feels Agen gently wrap an arm around him, steadying is cup with a free hand.

“Peace,” Agen says again, and those long, strong fingers curl around the back of Kix's skull, cradling. “Everything will be all right.”

Kix closes his eyes, presses in tight, and lets himself believe it.

[On AO3]

[blackkatmagic]

...Agen with flower braids!!! There's so much hair to put them into and he would look so beautiful!!! I mean, he's always beautiful but flower-hair??? After learning how much Agen loves flowers Kix started to look into ways to present them better and stumbled over flower-braids? Kix took a whole course on it. During the morning he does Agens hair and then his students get to enjoy their "serious" professor in an adorable look.

This is such a cute idea I physically could not resist.

but flies an eagle’s flight, bold and forth on

[blackkatmagic]

So, uh, are they going to invite Agen to watch them? Is Kix going to get his mind blown with realized feelings? Just imagine Agen telling Kix offhandedly beforehand what he's going to do and Kix being like have fun! But five seconds later he's regretting everything. And then he storms into the nice sex scene because no, seriously, we gotta talk.

This is angstier than the usual for this ‘verse, because pining, but. Wow that got longer than I intended. 

true hope is swift, and flies with swallow’s wings

[rose-blooms-red]

Agen’s face is soft in sleep, peaceful and lovely, and Kix couldn’t keep himself from tracing soft hands over his skin even if he tried.

[Happy Birthday @blackkatmagic!]