#rift? drodi?

[calamity-aims]

Hi Cal mwah, 30 for Drift please? Thank you <3

(MWAH MWAH MWAH also this is the first appearance of Rodi in a fic! Momentous!)

“Whatcha thinking about?” Rodi asks. Bright blue Zeltron eyes flash towards Drift curiously; his thigh presses up against Drift’s armor plating. The clink of his lightsaber against the plastoid is lost amid the constant sounds of traffic.

Drift takes a breath.

It’s hard to feel doubt or fear at the current moment. They’re up on the roof of the Jedi temple, sitting with their lags dangling above the dizzying web of Coruscant. This is Rodi’s favorite place, and Drift’s too: a long-forgotten alcove nested in the temple walls. Maybe it had been a sleeping porch, once, or just an outside access, but now it was filled with greenery and soft pillows, bits of art and Rodi’s books that he largely ignores. The overall effect is chaotically calming, much like Rodi himself.

It’s Drift’s favorite place in the galaxy, with his favorite person in the galaxy, and yet-

“What if,” he starts, then cuts off. It’s stupid. It’s a stupid thought that he shouldn’t burden Rodi with, not when there’s more important things going on, not when their time together is as rare and precious as Corusca gems.

Long red fingers brush over his cheek, tracing the lines of his tattoos. “Tell me,” Rodi says.

Drift could never refuse him anything. He leans into the touch, presses a kiss to his Jedi’s palm. Rodi waits, cupping Drifts face, until finally he says, “What if there’s no happy ending for us? What if - what if you die, or I die, or-”

Rodi laughs - not cruelly, never cruelly - and says with easy confidence, “Is that it? Aw, Drift, that’s not going to happen.”

“How can you know?” Drift asks. His voice almost breaks on the last word. How can Rodi be so assured, when Drift second-guesses every action? How can Rodi be so confident in the future when Drift can’t even remember parts of the past? 

The gaps in his memory are getting more and more frequent, and the Corrie medics don’t have an answer. Drift put it down to brain damage, from the spice and the circuit boosters and everything else he used to do, but Remedy said it wasn’t.

Remedy wouldn’t lie to him. Not even to spare Drift’s feelings. He’s not that kind of medic.

“I know because I’ve seen it,” Rodi’s saying. He taps the side of his head knowingly. “Visions, remember?”

Drift remembers. Rodi doesn’t talk about his visions much. Drift knows they’re hard on him, yet still he presses. “But do you ever get bad ones? Ones where we lose, or we die, or-”

“Sure I do,” Rodi says, easy. Casual. “But those are not going to happen.”

“But-”

“They’re not, Drift.” Rodi’s voice has gone sharp. Blue eyes blaze into Drift’s own. “They’re not. I won’t let them, ok?”

“Ok,” Drift whispers, and lets Rodi kiss him, fierce and desperate.