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purgetrooperfox · 1 year

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28 for the babygirls of your choice <3 -Lo

softer world prompt list

I miss doing nothing with you (I miss not having to pretend to like your family)

+ Nocte & Saleese (@babygirl-leon-kennedy) || Western AU

Cradled between Nocte’s hands, a mug of stale coffee goes cool despite the heat hanging heavy and oppressive in the air. Every summer, he hopes the ungodly temperatures of years past won’t return, and every summer, his hopes are dashed. The only mercy is that the sun has long since set and the cover of darkness promises a brief reprieve.

More oppressive than even the heat is the silence.

He volunteered for the night watch so he and Saleese could talk without her crew lingering uncomfortably close, but it’s proving difficult. Their split was on bad terms, all flaring tempers and hurt feelings. They both said things they didn’t mean, lashing out, and then life just carried on. The longer they went without talking or writing, the harder it got to break the quiet.

It’s more than a need to mend bridges, now. For Saleese to swallow her pride and contact him, not to catch up or reconnect but to ask for help… her situation would have to be bad. Life-threatening bad.

From his limited exposure to the gang she’s saddled herself with, he can’t say he’s surprised. Greed has a fire lit under them for the time being, but that won’t last, and when it dies, they’ll turn inward. Nocte would bet his life’s savings on it. Meager as those may be.

The pressure doesn’t make it any easier to say what’s needed. He needs to apologize. He needs to explain why he couldn’t, back then. He needs to offer and ask for forgiveness. He needs to make it clear that he’ll burn this entire camp to the ground if they hurt her.

But it all dies in his throat and turns to ash in his mouth.

Saleese’s focus is presumably on the block of wood she’s slowly whittling into a stake, likely more for the comfort of repetitive motion than any real need. She isn’t quite ignoring him, but she isn’t paying him any mind, either. It’s all a hair’s breadth from familiar.

“D’you remember when we were kids,” Nocte starts before he can think himself out of it, “and Old Man Abernathy’s hound got loose?”

Across the fire, Saleese snorts something that lands between a surprised exclamation and a laugh. “Which time?”

“The time he sent us looking for him and we got lost overnight."

"Oh, hell, and we spent an hour trying to start a fire with wet tinder?"

A smile pulls at Nocte's lips, despite everything. "You were convinced we'd never find our way back. I don't think I ever got all the sand and dirt washed out of my clothes."

They slept huddled together on the ground, tucked in behind a cropping of rocks and bushes. It wasn't late enough in the year for the night to be too cold, but they slept hungry and woke in foul moods. His brother used to spout nonsense phrases about being hungry enough to eat a horse and chase the jockey – Nocte found out what that meant, that morning.

All they had the energy to do was walk and bicker.

It's a small wonder they managed to make it back to town at all. Needless to say, their families were worried sick. He can't speak for Saleese, but once Nocte's brothers got over the shock, they firmly vowed never to let him live it down. They also taught him how to start a proper fire before letting him do so much as shower.

The cherry on top of the whole shit sundae was that it turned out, the damn dog was waiting at Abernathy's front door for breakfast first thing in the morning.

It was beyond ridiculous, start to finish. Abernathy was a mean old man with no fondness for children, probably looking more to get the pair of them out of the streets than to find his dog.

It was uncomfortable and disconcerting at best, to feel so lost in the dark.

And it was a bonding experience. He and Saleese don't talk about the fear or the way they clung to each other in their sleep, but it brought them closer. They were friends before, but there was trust afterward, and they only got closer over the years.

Until it fell apart.

Shaking his head, Nocte finally looks back up and sees the same wistful nostalgia he's feeling reflected on Saleese's face. The grief tangled in it doesn't make sense. So he doesn't dwell on it.

"I'm glad you got ahold of me," comes out before he can think twice. Honesty at its most raw bleeds into his voice, and he hears it, and he does nothing to cover it. "Not to say it outright, but I've, ah– well. I missed you."

To call Saleese soft in any capacity would firstly, piss her off, and secondly, be a gross misrepresentation. She's a great many things – and really, Nocte loves her like no other for it – but soft is not one of them. So, she doesn't soften for him, but she warms. It's in the smile that crinkles more around her eyes than her mouth and the way her posture relaxes.

A reception to vulnerability, maybe. More likely, a recognition of herself. It’s something they never really talk about – their history and those similarities. She's Nocte's closest friend, closer than family sometimes, and they don't talk about that either.

"I missed you, too," she says, despite it all. "It used to be so easy to just do nothing."

Nocte narrowly suppresses a scoff. "Back when our families played nice and we could just run wild."

"They were different times." The reflection of flame bounces off the depths of Saleese's eyes.

"They don’t have to be all that different," Nocte tries. Gods does he try, through the weight of decades past, conflicts deep, and old promises of forever. "I'll stay as long as you need me."

She hesitates, but Nocte can hardly blame her. He'd do the same. They're opposite sides of the same coin, after all.

"Alright," Saleese concedes, faster than she would for anyone else. "Stay, until you need to go."

Stay, because I need someone in my corner.

Stay, because I don't trust my inner circle.

Stay, because I miss you too and I know you'll do right by me.

Those words go unspoken, but Nocte hears them all the same.

This new gang of Saleese’s is a powder keg of ulterior motives and lies and deceit, liable to blow at any shadow of a spark. It looks on the surface like she’s wilfully overstaying her welcome when she should just cut and run – but then, few things as simple as that. He’ll stay until she’s safe, and they both know it.

That’s the promise they made as kids and it’s the one they’ll die before breaking.

#leo.writes #leocs #clone medic nocte #others' ocs #saleese jeekkunass #western au go BRRRR #there's something about taking nocte out of star wars but making him someone who goes so exclusively by a nickname #that almost no one knows his government name #asks answered #atama 'nocte' te rangi

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purgetrooperfox · 2 years

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“I think I messed up this time.” and saleese and nocte

[ prompt list ]

prompt: “I think I messed up this time.”

characters: Saleese Jeekkunass (@milf-plokoon) & Clone Medic Nocte

tags: emotional hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, politics

ao3

Blinking up at the ceiling of her living room, it occurs to Saleese that she may be drunk.

That was, of course, the goal of drinking a bottle of wine by herself, but it surprises her, in a way. Alcohol scrambles her thoughts and pulls them away from the day she's had. She doesn't want to think about it. That was the entire point.

The surprise is that she's capable of thinking about anything else. When she arrived home, she wasn't sure it was possible. It just goes to show that anything can be accomplished with enough wine.

The carpet under her back is soft and the lamps around the room cast a warm glow over her. The low chattering of newscasters drones from her sound system. If she tilts her head, she'd be able to watch the story unfold on-screen.

She opts not to.

The ceiling might need to be repainted. Maybe she should stop letting her guests smoke indoors. There's a perfectly good balcony overlooking the Financial District just down the hall, after all.

Blinking up at the very slightly discolored ceiling, it occurs to her that the rhythmic banging at the edge of her attention may be someone at her door.

Her brain feels foggy. She wouldn't put it past herself to order dinner to be delivered, since she's clearly in no state to be driving. With a monumental effort, she peels herself off the floor and shuffles to the front door of her condo. As the banging gets louder with her approach, her confidence and irritation rise in unison.

"Okay, alright!" she raises her voice to be heard as she fumbles with the lock.

Frustration peaks when the door slides open, then dies in her chest when she sees who was knocking so insistently. Nocte's standing with his hands shoved in his pockets and sheepish guilt etched into his face. He actually changed into street clothes this time. An oversized hoodie works wonders for hiding the blasters he surely has strapped to himself underneath it. It's strange to see him in it, rather than his usual combination of armor and medical scrubs.

He almost looks younger, despite the grey threaded through his hair.

"Shaefa said you left early," he says carefully, interrupting her thoughts. Straight to the point, as usual. It's not an accusation but it is a question.

The days Saleese cuts short are few and far between.

"Only by an hour or so." She shifts and waves him inside. "We had that vote this afternoon."

Bile stings the back of her throat, but she swallows and walks back to the kitchen with her head high.

"I heard." Of course he heard. It would be foolish to think he hadn't.

No empty consolation follows.

By some miracle, Saleese manages to extricate another wine bottle from the cabinet without breaking it. After popping the cork, she sidles back to the living room and sits on the floor with her back to the couch. The room seems hazy in front of her unfocused eyes.

She finds that wine tastes like shame and drinks it anyway.

The cushions at her back dip when Nocte sits down, tucking his knees up against her shoulders. He doesn't talk, doesn't push, and Saleese wants to scream that it's more consideration than she deserves. She wants to rage and tear and sob until her body gives out on her. Instead, she pulls a long drink straight from the bottle then passes it back to Nocte.

When it's half empty, he sits forward and starts carefully pulling pins and ties from the tangled mess of her hair. Once, she was surprised by his dexterity, a comment she voiced and was bluntly reminded of his training background. Now, she thinks about a childhood spent between military drills and a medical curriculum. She wonders how hard it is to commit one's existence to healing and destruction, simultaneously. It's a thought she will not be voicing.

His fingers thread carefully through her hair until it's free of all fasteners, then gently detangle the knots that came from hours on end at work followed by sprawling on the carpet. She doesn't realize that she'd nodded off until he puts the empty wine bottle on the coffee table, a faint clatter of glass on wood.

"Sorry," he murmurs, unfairly quick to notice her waking.

"What could you possibly have to apologize for?" she asks before she can stop herself.

"Waking you up when you clearly aren't feeling well?"

Part of her resents him for his empathy. Misguided irritation rears its head again.

"Well, don't," she snaps - or tries to snap; it comes out too tired to have any bite.

Nocte sighs softly behind her, barely audible. "Are you okay, Saleese?"

"I'm fine."

His silence could be skepticism, or it could be him deciding not to argue when she's certainly not fine.

"I'm fine," she repeats.

"Okay."

"I am."

"Okay," his voice goes hard. He rarely raises his voice around her, she noticed it ages ago, but tone goes a long way. This tone is on the verge of a warning to drop it if she won't tell the truth. "I'm here if you want to talk about it, but I won't force you to."

If she's honest with herself, she doesn't know how she would even begin to talk about it, even if she wanted to. Tears burn her eyes against her will.

Only when she's absolutely certain that her voice will be steady does she admit, "I think I messed up this time."

There's no way around it. She fucked up. She fucked up and the final vote count came through and now a new production order is going to Kamino. Another generation of clones will be bred and raised to die for the safety of a Republic that doesn't care about them. They can rationalize it as part of the greater good all day long, but…

But Saleese has heard the way Nocte and Fox talk about their youngest siblings – the shinies fresh out of training. She's held both of them when they snap. When kids die because of their orders, or because they couldn't save them, or because they couldn't be in two places at once. She's heard them both spiral out about being treated like canon fodder.

A quarter million new shinies will be born. How many of them will survive?

"Hey," Nocte says and slides off the couch behind her, pulling her back into his chest. "It'll be okay. Maybe not for a while, but eventually. You're doing everything you can."

Everything she can.

She wants to jerk away from him, but she can't even do that. She doesn't want to turn around and cry into his shoulder, but she can't seem to help it. She doesn't want him to wrap his arms around her in that way that feels like safety, but he does it anyway and she doesn't stop him.

"You wouldn't," she chokes out, "if you–"

"Saleese," he stops her, "I don't care. It doesn't matter. We're here now, right? The only way out is through, so we'll go through and we'll beat this thing and then we can talk about ifs or buts all day long. But we have to get through, first."

It sounds hollow, but she's too tired to fight him on it. She wants it to be true. She wants to believe it. She wants Nocte to believe it.

Neither of them do, but it's enough. Until they get through.

writing tags and taglist form, dm to be removed

@willowworkswithwords @saradika @catboy-kenobi @dikut @voidika @mandoposting @certified-anakinfucker @milf-plokoon @secretlyatimelady @spaceydragons @tayylie @moonstrider9904 @thelove-ablepenguin @maulpunk @frietiemeloen @spacerocksarethebestrocks @zinzinina @quinnqueens @thefact0rygirl @misogirl828 @amyroswell

#leocs #others' ocs #clone medic nocte #saleese jeekkunass #leo.writes #asks answered #angst #hurt/comfort #prompt fill #did saleese vote in favor? idk it's ambiguous on purpose

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