Despite his best efforts Tup can’t quite manage to tear his eyes away from where Fives is trying to eat Echo’s face. He wrinkles his nose. It wasn’t every day that your dead partner came back to life, but did they have to celebrate so loudly?
“I think this might be good for us,” he says.
“Really?” Dogma asks hopefully.
“Really?” Slick is less optimistic.
“Really.” Across the landing bay Fives gropes clumsily at Echo’s ass. Tup can hear them moaning from here. Is Five that loud with him? He hopes not. “I met Echo before he died—”
“Before he went missing,” Dogma interrupts.
“Before he went missing. And Fives talked about him all the time. He seems sensible.” They could use another level head around here.
Echo pulls at Fives’ hair with his remaining hand. Their mouths are open so wide they might as well be licking each other.
Slick hums in a way that makes people want to punch him. “By ‘met’ do you mean drooled at him working out in his ARC gear across the gym?”
“No! I mean I had a conversation with him.” He’d also drooled at him across the gym, but who hadn’t?
“Look, kid,” Slick says, as though Tup hadn’t ended up serving longer than he had, even if he’d been decanted first.
“Don’t call him kid,” Dogma says. He doesn’t look at Slick either, eyes locked on the two ARCs. He’d been drooling right next to Tup.
Slick rolls his eyes, but bows to Dogma’s wishes in a way he refuses to for anyone else. “I just think we should all keep in mind that Echo and Fives were already members of the 501st when I was arrested.”
A sort of dread that is usually reserved for when Fives and Slick really get into it pools in Tup’s gut. And maybe a little lower. It wasn’t going to happen, but that didn’t mean that Slick and Fives fighting wasn’t hot. What would adding Echo to the mix even—
Tup needs to get laid. He has two actual partners and a sort of partner in the form of Slick. How is it he never seems to manage more than jerking off in the tiny shared fresher?
“Did he know you?” Dogma asks. “If he…” he trails off, eyes widening in an expression that Tup is familiar with. Sure enough, Fives has shoved up Fives shirt, showing off his broad back.
The landing bay is empty except for them, but there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way. They’re supposed to be laying low. Fugitives of the Republic and all that.
How had Echo even found them? Tup files away the question for when Echo’s mouth isn’t occupied trying to deep throat Fives’ tongue.
Slick cocks his head at the display, but doesn’t lose focus. “Nah, I didn’t interact much with the 501st if I could help it. But I bet I got some of their little buddies killed.”
Fives wedges a leg between Echo’s and Echo’s civvies don’t hide enough to for Tup to even pretend that Echo isn’t humping it. Echo’s lost the built ARC that Tup jerked off to a couple of times before he died—it had felt morbid after—but he still holds himself with a straight-backed confidence that hits very nicely despite the circumstances.
So Echo won’t like Slick. Fine. What’s new?
“Yeah, but no one likes you, Slick,” Tup says.
“We do,” Dogma points out, which is only true on a technicality.
Slick lounges back against their ship looking so very pleased with himself. “Yeah, I’m sure he and Dogma will be the very best of friends.”
Dogma pales. “Fives and I have moved on,” he says very quickly.
“Sure you have, kid.” Slick says. “But you arranged for a firing squad to shoot Echo’s favourite lay. How do you think he’s going to feel about you? Even if said lay has decided to stop bringing it up.”
Dogma’s face makes it very clear he’s come to the exact same conclusion as Tup. So much for getting to fuck two ARCs at once he supposes.
“He’ll probably like you,” Dogma says to Tup, dejected misery having fully consumed any optimism.
“Yeah, trooper. You’re just everyone’s favourite.” At least Slick sounds happy.
They lapse into several seconds of blissful silence, interrupted only by the wet activities happening across from them.
Slick straightens up. “Huh. Those limbs are more dexterous than I’d have imagined.”
“Okay!” Tup slaps Dogma and Slick on the shoulder. “We’re waiting inside the ship!”
