Rex / Andy / Poe Freelance Heroes AU

[flightforfreedom]

 

TIMELINE
* indicates NSFW

Andy and Poe meet *
Andy and Poe's first gig *
Rex Meet Cute
Poe makes Andy the Copilot *
Poe and Rex have a Pleasant Evening *
Poe gets Andy off talking about how hot Rex is when he makes an O face *
Poe confesses his feelings for Andy, she storms off
Poe tells Rex about Andy storming off and accidentally confesses feelings for him too
Finally getting the stupid woman back on the ship 
Andy and Rex "spar"
Poe getting to say "I love you" to Andy during sex and not getting punched *
Poe and Andy get snacks for Rex, or try to anyway
Poe gets himself hurt
Poe wakes up and gets lectured at by Andy
Then by Rex
Poe Tells Andy he wants to marry them at the worst possible moment *
Andy and Poe propose to Rex

 UNSURE TIMELINE:
Bounty Posters
 

Comments

[killtime]

[ Andy's never been particularly good with words herself — or maybe, somewhere in the blur of centuries, she stopped caring what she sounds like. Words are only that — words — no matter how sincerely they're uttered. And even if she'd promised to keep Poe safe and meant it, such promises are beyond her power. Rex understands. That's more reassuring than an empty oath. And his simple gestures are more comfort to her than anything that could be said out loud — just the press of his kiss to her shoulder, that familiar scratch of stubble, and the steady rhythm of his hands working their way through all her long hair.

She turns her head slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye when she glances back through the spray of water. ]

Like you aren't just as bad as we are. Don't think that just because you're at my back I haven't seen you. [ It's wry, but quietly fond too. ] Sometimes I swear the two of you forget you're only human.

[ Though today's been a harsh reminder. ]

[ct_7567]

That's where you're wrong. I'm not only human. I was made for plenty more.

[ There are downsides from being a clone, certainly, but they were born and bred for battle in a way no other baseline human is. He's gotten to where he is now through plenty of hard work but the other half of the equation was done for him; except for underneath truly exceptional circumstances, he's always going to be better at that sort of thing than any other human.

Poe's the exceptional case here. He combs his fingers through her hair, rough enough now for it to be painful, but it's the only way he's going to get the tangles out. ]

I just happen to have chosen to put my lot in with you two crazy di'kuts.

[killtime]

[ She doesn't mind the discomfort — it's definitely not as bad as a lot of things she's endured. Once you've been shot through a few times, a little necessary hair-pulling is a small inconvenience by comparison. If anything, the sharp sensation keeps her grounded — keeps her thoughts from drifting too far. What brief pain there is still isn't as hard as watching Poe lay unconscious in the medbay. ]

So it's not your durability I should be worried about. [ Dry as ever: ] Just your poor taste in company.

[ Her mockery, dry though it is, comes more gently than it might have on a different day, and she lets a moment or two of quiet settle in once she's spoken. Her eyes close as she focuses on the feeling of his fingers working through the mess of her hair. A few long beats pass before she finally turns again, more fully this time — stalling his hands as she catches each one by the wrist. It's more somber now, when she speaks. ]

I love you. And I'm — [ She struggles. ] I'm sorry. That I don't say it enough.

[ct_7567]

[ Rex's hands still when Andy grabs onto his wrists and for a short, horrible moment, he's forced to simply be still. He doesn't want to be. As long as he keeps moving, keeps on being useful, he can convince himself everything is going to be okay. He doesn't want to have these talks. They sound too much like certainty of the worst case scenario, regrets of things unspoken, fears for the future. He wants nothing to do with it. The second they go down that hole, they'll never re-emerge.

But he can't reject her, and he can't reject this. ] I know, [ he says roughly. ] You don't - you have nothing to be sorry about. I don't say it enough either. And I love you too, you know I do.

And he knows too, you know he -- [ His breath catches in his throat, and he presses his forehead against the back of her head, hiding his face. ]

Ah, hell.

[ Did she really have to go down that road? Sometimes, he thinks, Andy's right. Some things are better left unsaid. ]

[killtime]

[ They'll be fine, in a minute. They'll soldier on, because that's what Andy and Rex do. It's just — she needs a moment, to let the cracks show. Behind a closed door. Where nobody except Rex ever has to know. The sound of running water drowns out her unsteady exhale at Rex's stalled reassurance, and the wet curtain of her hair is enough to hide her expression — as if either of those things is as telling as her words were. ]

I'll tell him. When he wakes up.

[ There's that low, rough edge to her voice when she's too emotional and she knows it. ]

We can both tell him.

[ Her grip on his wrists loosens. ]

Right, Rex?

[ct_7567]

[ It's funny. Andy's been alive for longer, but Rex is usually better at handling his emotions, even after everything they've been through. Not today, though, and not after this - he's so used to being able to ball them down until he can let them out alone, but he's not alone right now. He's with someone else who's hurting just as much, and he can feel the dread and the fear and the regret tearing away at his insides in a way that he hasn't for such a long time. There is no shame in this small place but for a long horrible moment, he feels that shame keenly, stabbing in his gut, the awareness that he needs to keep it together warring with the fact that things have gone wrong, they've gone wrong and he needs to fix it instead of dwelling here, where Andy's not only sharing in his emotion, but encouraging him to share it. And that's - that's not right, something old and bred into him long ago tells him. Dwelling is useless. He should be doing something useful, which he was as long as he was getting her clean, but now it's... ]

Right, [ he says, stifled, choked. ] I - I'm clean enough, I should go, I should check up on him, I shouldn't have left him alone with BB-8 --

[ He'll flee if she lets him. It is, quite frankly, the only way he knows how to deal with this sort of thing. ]

[killtime]

Don't.

[ She doesn't mean for the one word to come out so forcefully — so... Desperately. She doesn't mean to tighten her grip on him again so hard. It isn't like her, is it? To be like this. But all that matters to her in the galaxy is two souls, that's all, and one of them...

Stars, she must make a sad picture, standing there with her wet hair clinging to her, bare as the day she was born, grasping his arm as if it's the only thing standing between her and falling to pieces. ]

Don't leave me, Rex.

[ct_7567]

[ Rex wants nothing more than to leave so that he can lick at his wounds in private, damn the fact that he's part of a team now, but there's nothing in the galaxy that could get him to leave when Andy's looking at him like that - no danger, no reward, and certainly no amount of shame. Her and Poe always seem to circumvent that. ]

Andy, I - I can't --

[ This whole brutal, bloody affair makes him feel like weeping, and he hasn't done that in front of another person since he was a child. Even then, he rarely indulged. The Kaminoans were no great fan of tears. ]

This is worse. Than before.

[ He can only trust that Andy knows what he means. She's been fighting long before him. He's seen many fall before, has sat in the medbay more times than he could count, but this is worse and as his adrenaline fades, as distance is put between him and everything that had to be done to stabilize Poe, it gets worse with every minute that passes. All that talk to Andy about facing it together, brushing aside her concerns of what will happen when she would eventually lose them, and he didn't prepare himself for seeing either of them this way. Maybe he always figured it'd be him in the medbay, not them.

He'd sure as hell prefer it. ]

[killtime]

[ But this is what happens when you love someone, and the terrible truth is that Andy's never loved anyone half-way. She knows this pain. This fear. And she'd taken such care to make sure her memory of it became distant and faded — closing herself off to everyone, building those walls as high as they could go. Swearing off those feelings forever. But none of that had mattered when she met Poe. One night became two became a week — then somehow, she found herself living on this damn ship, and then they collided with Rex, and now...

Now she's here. In love enough for it to hurt, just like she knew it would. And it's only bearable because Rex is here with her, even though the rare unsteadiness of his voice feels like a knife in her gut and the look on his face cuts her deep. It still matters that she isn't alone. That he lingered when she needed him to. ]

I know. [ Her voice is rough, strained and faint. ] I know.

[ She moves towards him, even though it means stepping out from the full spray of the water. The cool air raises goosebumps on her skin, making her shiver a little as she reaches out to put her arms around him, drawing him in to her smaller frame with one hand pressed to the back of his head. She just wants to feel him close to her. Needs to. Just to help her steady herself. ]

[ct_7567]

[ He leans down, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, allowing himself to be held for this moment. He can't say whether or not he cries even briefly - not now, and certainly not later. He's not sure if it's because he's so unused to it that he wouldn't recognize it when he does it, or if he was too overwhelmed in the moment to even make a note of it.

Whatever it is, it's over quickly. He lets her hold him and he trembles, enough so that it could pass off as the chill of the ship's air upon their damp skin. And then, all at once, he stops, lets her hand upon his head steady him, her nearness a balm and a reminder all at once.

It is cruel of him, to be so glad that she cannot leave him like Poe can. But he's glad. His voice is quiet, muttered. ] Sorry.

[killtime]

[ Whatever she sees or hears or feels, she doesn't call attention to it. She's just quiet for a long moment, holding him there with his forehead against her shoulder, her thumb absently brushing back and forth against the short hair at the nape of his neck. Sorry, he says, and even though she doesn't really know what the sorry is for, it still makes her heart squeeze tight under her ribs.

Her voice, when it comes, is a low murmur to match his — as if her feelings can only be spoken for him alone to hear. ]

No. No apologies. This is what we signed up for. You asked me if I would stay, and I said yes. I promised you I'd try, so I'm going to fucking try. [ Her hands move to find his face, urging him to lift his head and look her in the eye. There's something fierce in the words when she whispers roughly: ] I love you so much. And I'll drag both your asses through this to the other side.

[ct_7567]

[ It's always been one of Rex's oddities. For a man as certain as he is, as convinced of his own righteousness in most situations, he has a tendency to apologize, whether it's over small, senseless things, little more than an inconvenience here and there, or over the audacity of having emotions and daring to voice them. It will take more than a few years on the run to drum that out of him. But though it's something he feels he ought to do, they've never faulted him for it before. He should have known better than to think she would now, of all times.

Funny, isn't it? He's the one who'd told her to try, and here she is, the one who has to remind him of the fact that they'd made a pact. They stick together, even through the bumpy bits. He lets her maneuver him, finally meeting her eyes, hoping he doesn't look half as lost as he feels. ]

Yeah, [ he says, voice rough, closing his eyes again and bumping his forehead against hers. ] You will. I love you too - I did long before someone had to tell me that.

[ He should have known. A part of him wishes he'd known sooner, that they could have started off like this from the very beginning. She'll drag them through to the other side. Poe will survive. But still, he wishes they had more time, the way that they are now.

He inhales deeply, sliding his hands along her shoulders, skin still damp from the 'fresher. ]

You knew, didn't you? How this would be.

[ He's not dense enough to think that they're her first loves, not in the way they're Rex's firsts, in every definition of the word. This is what she was running away from. Not him, not Poe. This. ]