Chapter Text
She'd been avoiding him and glaring at him every time he forced his arm up against the pain to flip a switch in the cockpit. Her eyes were boring a hole straight through his thick stupid skull. It was only hours ago that the metal beam would have severed it clean off if not for the shoulder armor. The shuttle they’re on isn't that large, but she's doing a damn good job of making herself scarce. At one point she threw a roll of bandages at his head while glaring at him so hard he could physically feel it. Her own hands hurt too, but they were no way as bad as his shoulder. Luckily, Cara fixes him up when Koska won't even speak a word to him. Eventually, they reach their destination and it’s time to disembark. The others quickly leave the ship when they land and it's just them--the last ones down the ramp. Everyone else pretended like they didn't know what was going on, but it was public knowledge they were sleeping together—the worst kept secret—and the rest of them wanted no part in the tense atmosphere which would come to a head any minute now. There was clearly more going on between them than they admitted to, but no one dared say that out loud.
"How's your hand?" he asks finally when it's finally just them. They’re walking away from the ship, toward the city.
She turns her head slightly to glare at him straight-on; acknowledging him for the first time in hours. "Still alive, are you?" she asks dismissively. "Thought you bled out hours ago."
He huffed at her sunny disposition. "What's got you in such a great mood?"
"I'm perfectly fine," she states. "Couldn't be better." Her clenched teeth were very convincing just how 'fine' she really was.
Right.
She doesn't want to give in and speak to him, but she can't keep her opinion to herself any longer without exploding. "You shouldn't have run back inside that building!"
At least he finally knew what this was about--he already did--but now it was out in the open. He sighed loudly. "I had to. There was a kid in there."
"You could have died!" She yelled. "The roof collapsed, in case you didn't notice!"
"I did notice," he states. "Hard to miss, even with your powers of observation."
"You. Shouldn't. Have. Gone. In. There," she says much more slowly. More firmly too, as if she was trying to force the thought through his thick cranium with brute force.
"And you shouldn't have gone in after me!" he says, unable to not take the bait.
"You're lucky I did, or you'd be dead." She was baring her teeth at him now, her chest right up to his.
She wanted to spit and hiss like she knew she had a right to, but she remembers the second she saw the roof collapse and thought he was gone. She felt her stomach drop nauseatingly all over again just visualizing it. Now what she had left was a different emotion that was proving a pretty good stand-in. She’s practically blowing steam out her nostrils just looking at him with his helmet off and his shoulder clearly uneven. Anger. That's the emotion she's feeling. It's the only one that could make her feel like smashing his face in. It's just anger. She tells herself that again, so she'll maybe believe it.
"You're always so dramatic," he says, knowing it'll only serve to rile her up more.
She takes a step back in disbelief. "Dramatic? ME?" she asks in anger. "You're one to talk. Your attempt at losing your arm was dramatic. You need to rethink that sentence before I rethink it for you!"
She cocked her head to the side the way she always did before she lost her composure. He knew her tells pretty well by now and knew there were only seconds left to diffuse this bomb.
He makes a level gesture with his hand at her aggressive step forward. "And YOU need to calm down."
How could that not help? he thinks. The best way to calm a woman down was to tell her to calm down. Everyone knew that.
"Calm down?" she shrieks angrily, and shoves him instead. "You're telling ME to calm down? You're an even bigger idiot than I thought!"
"Me? You went in there too!" he reminds her, as he gets in her space, chest to chest. "Who's the bigger fool, the fool or the fool who follows him?"
"I went in after you!" she yells and shoves him again.
As much as he knows a good scuffle would clear up some of this tension, he doesn't let her provoke him. "Why are you still so worked up?"
"Because I love you, you idiot!" she screams at him. "You aren't allowed to die unless I kill you myself, and I just might after that stunt. How could you be that stupid?"
She punched him in the arm--the good one--but even though it hurt, he didn't show it. He was too busy staring at her, replaying what she'd just said in case he'd heard her incorrectly.
Koska sees the look of surprise on his face. Why was he looking at her like that? She had been yelling at him, but that wasn't new. She ran over what she just said....He'd asked her why she was so worked up..... and she sai.....
Fuck.
Her eyes got wide and her lips pursed into a thin line when the realization dawned on her like getting run over by a speeder. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed off in the opposite direction. It wasn't running scared though. It was anger, or so she told herself. Again.
Boba couldn't find her the rest of the day, but he wasn't surprised. If she didn't want to be found, there was no point wasting your energy looking for her. He goes about the rest of his day to give her time to cool off.
Hours later he finds her on a rock, sitting with her back to him. The sun is already going down. He has no clue how long she's been here but she made the conscious choice to make herself visible which was a sign he could approach her.
"Hey," he says loud enough for her to hear his approach in case she hadn't already.
"Fuck off," she replies without looking at him, but she doesn't get up to leave, so he figures that's progress. He puts his arm around her--it's a testament to her patience that it's still attached and her blaster isn't in his face. He took his helmet off and placed it on the ground. He owed her at least seeing his face if she was letting herself be exposed too. He's glad he knew her well enough by now to not be put off by her anger.
Anger was from fear. Worry was from caring. Standoffishness came from expecting rejection.
"I couldn't have just left that kid in there," he says.
"I know," she admits begrudgingly. She's had plenty of time to deflate and think more rationally. She would have done the same thing.
"You're still angry?"
"I hate this," she says after a long pause. He expects her to sound pissed off, but she just sounds miserable instead.
"This?" he asks, feeling out what she was really talking about. What, them?
"Giving a shit," she explains. "It sucks."
"I give a shit too," he states to make her feel less defensive, but also for him to admit the obvious. It's true. Giving a shit does suck sometimes, but others not so much. It would be worse going back to not having anyone to give a shit about.
She lets out a heavy sigh. "I know you do."
That split second had been so horrible. It still made her sick when her eyes closed and she saw the roof collapse with him still inside.....seeing him laying under that beam......not knowing if he was even alive. She felt so powerless and she never felt powerless. Not since she joined the Mandalorians almost twenty years ago.
They sit there in companionable silence for a while. It was easy by now. They practically lived together whenever they found themselves and their circles overlapping; something that was happening more and more, only because they wanted it to happen, not because of work.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she grumbles out. She hoped he knew it took everything she had to manage that.
He laughs at how put out she sounds having to apologize. "No, you're not."
Her nose wrinkles at the truth there. "The message needed some refining.....but I didn't have to scream at you."
"I thought the message was more than clear," he admits. "If it makes you feel less guilty, I would have yelled at you too if you pulled something stupid like that." He thought about if this morning had been reversed--if he stood by and watched her die—how he’d react. He'd seen his father killed right in front of him, but he hadn't allowed himself to get close enough to anyone else since then to even think about caring whether they lived or died. He'd learned caring made you weak at a young age. No, he thought, but it gave you a weak spot, that much was true. He cared about this woman in front of him. It was impossible not to--not once you knew the real person beneath the no-nonsense beautiful face and fierce attitude. The thought of watching her lose her life and her blinding fire right in front of him, especially when it could have been prevented, filled him with rage and something else. He knew everything she had lost too over the years and he felt guilty making her almost face it again today. She might mask it under anger and impassioned screeching, but he saw it for what it was. She wasn't nearly as complicated as she believed she was.
"I'll probably do something equally stupid at some point," she admits, extending an olive branch.
"Of course you will," he tells her proudly, "and I'll be there to call your stubborn ass out on it."
She nods in acceptance as she takes in his words.
He'd be there...
She was an expert at extracting little meaningful phrases out of his sentences by now. There was always extra stuff on either side of it, but the important messages were clear there if you knew how to spot them.
"It's only fair I get to be pissed this time then," she reasons.
"Seems fair."
He places his other hand over hers. Her knuckles and cuticles were bloody and torn where she dug him out from under the cement and steel debris mere hours ago. It was only her stubbornness and lack of care about the battered state of her hands that he got out from under that beam and didn't burn alive in the resulting fire.
He'll see to cleaning her up later when she's more pliable and not likely to take his other arm off if he fusses over her.
He pulls her close instead. She closes her eyes and breathes out heavily. He doesn't mention the two-ton bantha in the room--what she'd yelled right in his face earlier. She must be mortified and angry at herself for letting it slip so he doesn't want to remind her of it. He knows next time it'll be his turn to say words like she managed to throw at him in anger today. The fact that they just came tumbling out on accident didn't make them any less real or meaningful--even more so in the moment of honest passion. It wasn't the moment of passion he would have picked, but it was a big deal either way. There was no way she could think it wasn't reciprocated, but still....he needed to say something--not right this very moment though. She was fragile right now, if that word could ever be attributed to her in any way. He almost snorted at the adjective his brain had provided to describe her, but she didn’t look amused enough for him to bring it up. She was clearly on edge waiting for him to make her face her words. She was precariously balancing on the edge of something anyway. He'd find a way to show her until he could tell her.
When she realizes he's not going to draw attention to her slip up earlier, she relaxes and her whole body almost goes limp. "I'm still pissed at you, you know."
He was glad the thought of losing him affected her. "I know you are. You're a lavacat when you're angry. It's a sight to behold."
"Shut up."
He called her that once and she didn't get the likeness until she saw one of the ornery fuzzy creatures for herself--standoffish, territorial, hissing and teeth bared. They would challenge anyone at any time for their place. They were quick to fight, but also quick to seek out attention and pets. What a ridiculous comparison. She was nothing like that.
"You know that's a horrible pet name," she complains half-heartedly for the twentieth time at least.
"And YOU know I never listen. You like 'little one' better? I'll go back to that."
She punches him hard, but doesn’t move out of his hold.
"Maybe it’s not the worst," she begrudgingly admits, "but you're the only one dumb enough to call me that so I have no frame of reference."
"I was an idiot today," he admits, "you happy now?"
She thinks about where they are now. She was happy now, that was the problem. Being unhappy was easy. Having something to lose sucked. She hadn't been reminded of that for a long time until today. Still, these moments weren't promised and they both lived dangerous lives. She'd enjoy every today they got until they ran out--she was glad that day wasn't today. The honest fear she felt earlier might have been the kick in the ass to be more honest about other things too.
"Yeah. I am."