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It takes Kix slightly longer than it probably should to convince himself not to murder his superior officer.
‘Slightly longer than it should’ meaning he shouldn’t be considering it at all. But the overwhelming amount of absolute smugness that the assholes around him were radiating had temporarily overridden his good senses and made the murder of a CO seem very attractive.
And really, Kix thinks grimly, eyeing the scalpel resting within easy reach, it still seems like the best solution.
Hardcase follows his gaze and locks eyes with him, blinking up at him with an innocence that’s a complete lie as he moves the weapon out of Kix’s reach.
Bastard.
Hardcase is actually a good patient most of the time, as long as he has something to hold his attention.
This means that Kix hasn’t used the ‘rare and only slightly useful vaccinations against diseases we might never run into’ threat against him.
Yet.
Rex is still standing in front of him, unrepentant.
Kix narrows his eyes.
Hardcase snickers, looking between them with unrestrained glee.
Captain Rex has his bucket on and it does absolutely nothing to hide how much the shithead is enjoying this.
You can lie to a natborn when you have a bucket on, but it’s far harder to hide behind a bucket from a brother.
Especially when you aren’t even trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.
Kix is going to make both of their next physicals painful.
(Kix does not like hurting his brothers, and he never wants to, he is a medic, he will help them and heal them as best as he can and beyond that.
That does not mean that he won’t seek fraternal retribution in the form of dragging hypo shots out as long as possible and putting them both down as being allergic to caf so he can pull medical rank and watch them suffer.
He has it down to a science at this point.)
Kix breathes in once, “Sorry sir, I must have misheard you, could you repeat that?”
One chance, Kix is a merciful man, he will give his absolute karking bastard of a Captain one chance to escape his fate of decaf and painfully cold hypo shots.
The Captain does not take his one chance, if anything, he seems to grow more amused by it than anything else.
“I just said that I’m glad you’ve been getting along so well with General Kolar.”
Kix, in case anyone was wondering, can not wait for tomorrow morning, he’s already pulling up the Captain’s medical file, staring dead-eyed into the visor of the Captain’s bucket as he adds the allergy information and the necessary restrictions.
The Captain doesn't back down, because he's a stubborn di'kut, but Kix feels vindicated knowing how much the next few mornings are going to suck for him.
He sets the datapad down and keeps his voice steady as he answers, “I’m a medic sir, and until he returns to his company it’s my duty to ensure he’s keeping himself well and to take care of any injuries.”
Hardcase smirks, “You mean you’re the only medic he’s let near him, and you’ve been fussing over him.”
Kix is going to postpone the murder of his SO and substitute it with just plain murder. Hardcase is going to be sitting in the medbay for hours getting hypos.
The thought of it actually makes Kix feel a little better.
The Captain tilts his head towards Hardcase, agreeing. Which is just rude, Kix does not fuss.
He does, however, have to worry about an entire company of idiots who do stupid things and get injured far too often for his liking.
They’ve worked with General Kolar a few times before, and it might be true that during those few times the Jedi would refuse to let his injuries be seen to by anybody. Because somehow not a single Jedi Kix has ever worked with has had a shred of self-care or common sense in their bodies.
But Kix had fixed that by the third time the General had worked with them.
The solution had worked, but the day that someone other than Kix or the Zabrak General finds out is the day that the Seps decide to lay down their weapons, the Senate acknowledges that the vode are sentient beings, and General Skywalker thinks things through before he does something stupidly reckless.
This means never, and Kix is willing to make sure it stays that way.
(It had included a room, a locked door, a lot of threats, and maybe a little bit of Kix making a fool of himself. The General had mostly looked amused. After Kix had finally managed to get the General to agree to treatment, he’d felt a little offended, a little embarrassed, and maybe a little bit infatuated. General Kolar was unfairly pretty and extremely competent. Kix is not entirely sure he managed to escape the disaster gene the Prime had passed onto all of the vode.)
But no matter what anyone else says Kix is not a fusser. He just gets exasperated by idiots who won’t be more careful and, yes, he tends to worry how said idiots ever made it off Kamino, but he does not fuss.
And besides, General Kolar had both the worst habits of the Jedi and the recklessness that comes from being a Zabrak and knowing that you’re harder to kill. And to top it all off the General seemed determined to push himself well past his limits.
It’s infuriating and Kix is allowed to worry a little.
He breathes in slowly and does not grind his teeth, “You, Hardcase, are going to be quiet and let the people who didn’t break a leg kicking a droid do the talking.”
Hardcase yelps in offense and falls back on the bed as he whines, “Commander Cody does it all the time!”
Kix doesn’t dignify that with an answer, the good Marshal Commander had infected the entirety of the 212th with the “Let’s brawl with droids” mentality and Kix was doing his damndest to keep that away from the 501st, it wasn’t working out too well.
Instead, he refocuses on Rex (and his unnecessary and unwelcome observation,) and raises an eyebrow, “Is there a reason you chose to bring up the working relationship of General Kolar and I, sir?”
“So you admit there’s a relationship!” Hardcase crows.
Kix pointedly does not look at him.
Rex reaches for Kix—as if the captain isn't well aware that Kix both knows every bone in his body and how to break them—and clasps his shoulder.
If the good captain's bucket was off right now, Kix would be able to see the smirk that he knows the bastard is wearing.
"Oh nothing vod," the Captain's voice is perfectly, deceivingly even and Kix is already resigning himself to his fate, "just heard that General Kolar was injured is all, figured you would want to hear about it.”
Kix’s brain immediately jumps to worse case scenarios, if the General had been dying then he probably would’ve already been brought in, but the Jedi are also horrifically stubborn. He scowls, he doesn’t want to let Rex win but Rex isn’t a good liar and Kix is a medic before anything else.
He sighs and rubs at his temple, accepting defeat for now, “You're free to go Hardcase. But don’t do anything stupid, if you end up back here in less than five hours everyone knows to keep you overnight.”
Hardcase just laughs, “Sir, yes, sir.”
Rex has already made himself scarce and Kix bites back a curse. The bastard is going to be on decaf for at least 2 months for this, Kix isn’t even the slightest bit sorry.
Kix runs a hand over his face, and, after giving himself a second to despair, sets off to find General Kolar.
It doesn’t actually take him that long to find General Kolar.
After Kix leaves the medbay, it’s simply a matter of heading towards the guest room they normally have visiting Generals stay when they're aboard the ship.
When the General answers the door Kix immediately scans him for any visible injuries. He relaxes fractionally when the General doesn’t look like he’s going to bleed out on him immediately, but just because Kix can’t see anything yet doesn’t mean that the Jedi isn’t injured.
The Jedi bows his head in greeting and his dark hair falls gently over one shoulder, if Kix were less worried, he would give the thought of brushing that hair out more thought—for all that he preferred his close shave, he had always enjoyed brushing out other vod’s hair, it was soothing— as it is he’s far more focused on making sure the General is okay and not avoiding treatment.
“Hello Kix, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Kix blinks, “General, I heard—”
“Agen, please.” The General—Agen—interrupts and Kix’s brain short circuits for half a second before refocusing.
“Right, Agen, I was told that you were injured?” It sounds more like a question than Kix likes and Kolar has that amused look on his face that makes Kix feel ridiculous and warm.
The Jedi tilts his head and stares for a few more seconds before shrugging and moving out of the doorway, “Nothing life-threatening just a few cuts and bruises.”
Kix frowns, “Still, your health is important General.”
The Jedi hums, “Agen.”
The gentle correction leaves Kix feeling slightly off-kilter and he shifts, “Of course, sorry sir.”
Agen sighs and leads Kix to the table and sits down, “I’m aware how important my health is Kix, especially to you, but I wanted to ensure that those more injured than I were seen to first, I’ve suffered nothing I can not handle or treat myself.”
Kix freezes, his medkit already set down on the table, “Ah, I see, sorry sir. It was not my intention to insult your abilities I’ll just—”
There’s a gentle hand placed on Kix’s arm and the Jedi looks at him softly, “I never said I was against you treating me Kix. There was no insult to be found and nothing to forgive.”
Kix swallows, unfreezing and opening the medkit, “You’ll make Suture jealous sir, he keeps telling me about how often he tries to get you into med.”
Agen shrugs, “I see Suture plenty, I do not see nearly enough of you.”
Kix’s face feels warm, he tries to think of something to say to that and finds that he can’t. He focuses on the task at hand instead.
“Right, um, then If I could see your injuries now sir?”
Agen tips his head in acknowledgment and removes his robe with deft hands. The General’s torso is a mess of bruises and Kix can’t help but frown at the sight. The General hadn’t mentioned anything being broken but now that he’s looking Kix would feel better if he double-checked the ribs.
There’s a laceration on the shoulder and it isn’t deep or obviously bleeding, and Agen at some point must have changed because Kix hadn’t seen any sign of it in the robes.
There’s another, deeper, one along his side and Kix tsks as he brushes gentle fingers along the outside of the wound. It’s not serious but Kix has never liked seeing people he cares for hurt.
It’s quiet as Kix works, gently cleaning the lacerations and checking that the ribs aren’t broken, fractured, or bruised. Agen’s eyes follow him as he goes and Kix feels his face warm, it shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does. But it’s warm and soft in a way so few things in war are and Kix can’t help the way it soothes something in his chest.
He places the final bacta patch and shifts back slowly.
“All clear sir. Nothing broken but try not to get hit in the torso anymore if you can help it.”
Agen hums, “I’ll try my best, thank you for that Kix, I appreciate it.”
“Of course sir.”
Kix makes a half-aborted movement to stand, feeling a little foolish.
Agen just gives him an even look and tilts his head.
“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?
And if Kix indulging himself a little was enough to put a smile on the General’s face, well nothing too bad would happen if he left the other medics on their own for a little while.
He smiles, “Sure thing sir, I have faith that those di’kut’s can survive without me for a little while.”
The Jedi huffs, “Yes, I heard about Private Hardcase’s fun with the droids.”
Kix rubs at his face and groans, “Please don’t remind me sir, the 212th is corrupting them all and not even the multiple broken bones I’ve had to treat is enough to get it through their heads that their blasters are there for a reason.”
Agen laughs—a soft little thing that feels like it’s melting Kix’s heart and makes him feel like a romantic sap.
The Jedi smiles, “Yes I do imagine that would grow frustrating. I’ll admit, before working with the 212th and 501st it was not a strategy I had ever seen implemented.”
Kix snorts, “That is because they stick all the ones who are insane enough to do it with us, and to make things even worse both of the Generals are horrible enablers. It’s driving all us on MedStaff crazy, I think Helix was about this close to strapping the Marshal Commander down to a cot and leaving him there the last time he came in with a broken hand.”
“At least I am not the only one driving the medics insane.” Agen’s voice is dry and Kix’s cheeks feel warm. He curses every single being of power he can think of even as he prays that there isn’t a noticeable flush on his face.
He clears his throat, and tries to summon some of the dry wit he is usually capable of producing, at least when not faced with the very pretty Jedi he keeps making a fool of himself around.
“Right, uh, yes, you are very not alone in that endeavor. Though you at least cause less stress and headaches than certain Generals.”
The Jedi’s mouth ticks upwards and Kix knows that even though the Jedi’s voice is completely even, he is most definitely amused.
“Yes, It’s well known that Obi-Wan has never been a very good patient and, from what I understand, it is one of the many habits he’s passed down to his Padawan.”
Kix snorts, leaning back against the chair, “Oh trust me, I know. I’m honestly surprised they’ve survived this long.”
General Kolar leans forward and rests his chin on his interlocked hands, “It’s good they have you to help them. You are very good at your job.”
Kix swallows past the sudden knot in his throat, “Thank you sir, I do my best.”
Agen smiles softly, “I never doubted that Kix. You have far too big a heart for me to ever think you don’t do all you can for those in your care.”
The thing about General Kolar—about Agen—is that, when he has his full attention on you, you know. His attention is always warm and heavy, always faintly intrigued. It's a quiet thing, but it's there and warm and it always feels safe.
Or at least, that’s the way it’s always been whenever Kix has worked with the man.
Sometimes Kix sees something so warm in the General’s eyes as the Jedi watches him, that he lets himself hope for something more than what he has.
He looks away from the Jedi, and starts packing away his med kit just to have something useful to do with his hands.
When he speaks, his voice is soft and strained, “Thank you, Agen.”
He doesn’t know if the Jedi understands how much that means to him.
There is something bursting through his chest, warm and gentle. And if Kix were a better man he would have already left by now. Just because most vod, at least those who were interested in romance, crushed on at least one of the Jedi didn’t mean that they could act on those feelings.
Crushes were harmless. Other things, the messy things, like love and gentle adoration, were not.
Still, Kix is vode. And even if Mandalore will never recognize them as Mando’ade, they still have manda in their blood.
He doesn’t run from messy things.
But, he thinks to himself, as Agen stands and walks toward the kitchen, maybe a tactical retreat would be best.
“Tea?” Agen asks quietly.
Kix nods, fidgets with his hands before catching himself and folding them together.
Agen looks back at him, the side of his mouth ticking upwards, “I’m afraid I’m not as much of a connoisseur as Master Kenobi is. And the last Master to stay here seemed to prefer caf to tea, so we’ll have to make do with some Ola.”
Kix smiles, “That’s just fine sir. I’m not as picky as General Kenobi is about it.”
Agen snorts. “Good. If the rumours are true, he once was so insulted by how bad someone's taste in tea was during his padawan years that he tore them to metaphorical pieces."
Kix blinks once and then snorts. The mental image that brings is hilarious and so strange Kix almost dismisses it on principle.
He tries to picture a slightly shorter and younger version of the 212th’s General verbally flaying someone for their poor tea choices. But Kix can’t manage to picture him without his signature beard and it makes him choke. It’s so out of character with the image the General reflects now that he can’t keep the image in his head for more than a few seconds.
"No offense meant sir, but I just can't see it."
Agen grins as he gets everything for the tea out, "Honestly I'm not quite sure how true it is but it's a highly entertaining image." He snorts and meets Kix's eyes with amusement shining bright, "Though, between you and me, if the way Obi-Wan reacts every time someone tells him they think caf is better than tea is any indication, I think it might hold just the slightest bit of weight."
Kix pauses, tries to fit that into what he knows of the 212th’s General and hits an error screen. It doesn’t fit the man Kix knows at all.
He does make a mental note to let Helix know about it, any blackmail on patients is to be freely shared between CMO’s, so as to increase their chances of being able to treat idiots who think that medical treatment is optional.
“That is not something I would expect from General Kenobi.” Is the response he finally settles on.
Agen laughs, “That might be Obi-Wan’s greatest trick. He’s made everyone think he’s respectable and sane when he’s just as much of a disaster as his padawan is.”
That actually makes everything about both of the Generals make so much more sense.
Kix blinks, “So,” he begins, pauses as he processes just what all of this means and blanches, “What you’re telling me, is that I got the disaster General, who was raised by another disaster General, and the two of them are both contributing to the raising of Commander Tano.”
Agen pauses, blinks, sets the mugs he’s holding down, and when he speaks next his voice is perfectly even, “Oh dear.”
Kix lets his head fall into his hands and does not moan in despair, though it’s a close thing.
“This explains so much.” He whimpers into his hands and hears Agen’s sympathetic hum.
“If it’s any consolation,” Agen says, all the sympathy and amusement of someone who doesn’t have to deal with either General Skywalker or Kenobi on a daily basis, “Padawan Tano still seems to have some sense of sanity.”
Kix looks up, and meets Agen’s eyes, expression purposefully blank, “And every day she trains under them it whittles away to nothing. How did I get stuck with the lineage of insane karking maniacs.”
Agen smiles in the same beatific way Kenobi does before he blames everything on the Force, it's also the smile that, if Helix is to be believed, causes Commander Cody to develop a twitch every time he sees it.
“The will of the Force, Kix, the will of the Force.”
Kix suddenly develops an intense sympathy for the Marshal Commander. If Kix had to put up with that all the time he’d snap.
He raises an eyebrow but Agen’s neutral expression doesn’t break, even as he sets the tea down in front of Kix.
Kix twitches, and Agen smiles the same beatific smile.
He groans and rubs a hand over his face, “You know,” he grumbles, “the more I hear that, the more I suspect that you Jedi are just using the Force as a scapegoat for why you do whatever you want.”
Agen shrugs, “It’s a multi-purpose phrase, it works wonderfully as an explanation and,” he grimaces, “as a way for Masters to tease padawans.”
Kix grins, “Speaking from experience there?”
Agen sighs, “Unfortunately.”
It still feels strange being this informal with a superior and it sets Kix a little on edge, but Agen doesn’t seem to mind it—and has actually taken multiple opportunities to let Kix know he prefers it whenever they interact—and it’s nice.
It’s nice, this sort of calm discussion. None of the stress or tense worry of battle, none of the grief that can come from the medbay.
It’s relaxing, and Kix is exhausted, and Agen’s calming presence is enough that he can’t quite fight off the yawn that comes.
Agen hums, takes a sip of his tea and gives Kix a soft look, “You should probably be getting some sleep.”
Kix shrugs, “It’s fine sir, besides,” he hesitates, takes a sip of the tea to hide it, and shrugs again, “I enjoy spending time with you, Agen.”
The smile Agen gives him is wide and gorgeous and makes Kix want to kiss him just a little.
He ducks his head, feels his face warm and hopes that everything he’s heard about Jedi reading emotions is a myth.
They sit like that, quiet, calm, and easy until they finish their tea and as Kix stands to leave, Agen steps around the table and into Kix’s space.
The Jedi tips his head down—just the slightest bit taller than the vode—and cups the back of Kix’s neck, presses gently into Keldabe, careful of his horns and their potential for harm.
“Is this okay?”
Kix’s breath catches in his throat and he breathes out a “Yes.”
Agen smiles and leans back, presses a kiss against Kix’s temple.
“I’m glad. Now, go sleep little spitfire.”
Kix laughs, leans against the Zabrak and grumbles good-naturedly, “I’m not little, we’re almost the same height.”
Agen hums, and Kix can feel the soothing rumble of his voice as he speaks, “Almost is still not the same height, little spitfire.”
Kix rolls his eyes and leans up for a kiss but Agen pulls back with a smile, “You really should be going to sleep you know.”
Kix huffs, “Tease.” he accuses even as he grabs his medkit.
Agen shrugs, nonchalant as he turns, “I never said you had to leave to go sleep.”
Kix freezes, and splutters, “W-What?” to Agen’s back, the Jedi laughs and it only takes a second more for Kix to follow.
(Agen is still a tease, because all he does when they get into bed is wrap warm arms around Kix and lull him to sleep with quiet words and reassurances.
It’s the best Kix has slept in a long time.)