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You hated Crosshair.
His stupid tinsel-colored hair, his stupid tattoo, the stupid way he always criticized you.
He was just stupid. No wonder he was seen as defective. Must be cause he's defectively an a*shole.
Ever since you joined the Bad Batch, he always looked at you with disdain, like you were the gunk he had to clean out of his rifle. The snarls he would send your way and just the downright rudeness he exhibited towards you was plaguing your every thought. You had tried to befriend him in the beginning, tried to crack his stubborn shell, but he ended up breaking yours instead, snapping at you more times than you could count. This time, though, really took the cake.
The mission you all were sent on had some inaccuracies from Cid. The empty base you were tasked on infiltrating actually wasn't empty, and you had to retreat out of the base with stormtroopers hot on your heels. For whatever reason, you got separated with only Crosshair when escaping and you two scrapped by with a few minor injuries.
Oh, but his broken Firepuncher? Supposedly your fault.
"What the kriff is your deal?!" Crosshair hissed, swiping his helmet off so quick you thought his head would detach with it. He moved towards you with unbridled rage, cornering you by the co-pilot's chair in the cockpit of the Marauder.
You scoffed, fury of your own apparent on your face. "My deal? What the kriff is your deal?" Your finger hovered inches from his pinched face as you enunciated.
He swatted it away and leaned in closer, light brown eyes trained on yours. "Out there, you were a liability," Crosshair spat, voice dangerously low and sending hot air flushing over your face. "Seems like you always have been and always will be."
You couldn't help but widen your eyes slightly, and even though you tried to recover quickly, you knew Crosshair saw it. Apparently he saw everything besides his flaming ego.
You knew you weren't a liability. You were a grand asset to the Bad Batch, but of course, doubts always seeped in. You were a soldier, bred for combat, and when that purpose was questioned, you questioned your whole life.
You straightened, steeling your spine and ready to logically end his rant. "Weapons get dinged up every now and then. It's expected." Your mouth twitched as your stepped a little closer to Crosshair, purposefully trying to make him overwhelmed in his space. "As a soldier, you should know this by now. I am not here to be your personal punching bag over an event called to be inevitable in this line of work."
Your tone was professional, but d*mn you were itching to punch him. Show him what else is to be expected in this line of work.
Crosshair's hands curled into fists as he physically shook, jaw tense and veins popping out of his forehead. "This line of work calls for superior soldiers, and it is obvious you do not belong here in it."
F*ck him. F*ck him and his Firepuncher.
You heard other voices, but they were muffled as your ears started ringing. Red was all you saw.
He wanted a superior soldier? Next thing he can grade is the color of his face when it is dotted with purple.
You lunged for Crosshair, sending a swift attack to his face, your fist colliding with his cheek. You tried winding your arm back again to continue your assault, but strong arms wrapped around you.
"That's enough!" Hunter barked, his Sergeant voice echoing off the cockpit's walls. You wiggled against Wrecker who only held you tighter as Hunter whirled his gaze on Crosshair and then you again. "You two, barracks. Now."
You stopped struggling as dread crept into your stomach. Looking around, you saw Tech's wide eyes behind his goggles, Echo's tense posture, and Hunter's pulse jumping out of his neck. You didn't want to cause problems for the batch, and you really tried not to. You hated that Crosshair got under your skin as much as he did, and you felt so guilty for causing Hunter and the others more stress than they needed.
You didn't want to admit it, but it was times like these after a heated argument subsided that you wondered if Crosshair was right.
Maybe you didn't belong with the batch. Maybe their lives would be more peaceful without you and Crosshair clawing at each other's throats constantly.
You took in a shaky breath, visibly deflating. Wrecker let you go shortly afterwards, noticing your change in demeanor. You couldn't look at anyone as you followed a reluctant Crosshair and an exhausted Hunter out of the cockpit and towards the back of the ship.
You glared at Crosshair as you entered the short barracks room in the ship, but as you turned around to face Hunter-
The door slammed shut.
"What the kriff?" Crosshair's voice growled behind you, footsteps moving towards the shut door. He tried quite obnoxiously to get the door back open, but lo- behold, the buttons weren't working.
"Stop struggling. You're stuck in there for a reason." Hunter's voice boomed behind the durasteel. You could've swore you could see his smirk.
"Care to enlighten us?" Crosshair spat, hissing the word us like it would burn him. You just scoffed, shaking your head and folding your arms across your chest.
"You two are going to either fix your problems, or not come out."
Your head snapped to the closed door, hoping Hunter could feel the surprise mixed with anger etched across your face.
"I'd rather get impaled by a bantha." You murmured, knowing Hunter could hear you and that his resolve would not change regardless.
He did sigh though. "Stop acting like feral tookas and figure it out."
"You have to get into this room at some point," Crosshair countered, voice low and unimpressed. "You can't keep us in here forever."
"Then don't make me." Hunter said before his footsteps retreated away.
You let out an exasperated breath. Great. Just how you wanted to spend your time after a mission.
With him.
You turned to find him already glaring at you.
"What're you looking at?" You glowered, nails digging into your biceps.
He didn't say anything in response, just plopped down onto his bunk with a growl and turned away from you.
"Great chat." You replied, deciding that if he didn't want to talk, you certainly weren't going to force him. In fact, you preferred silence right about now. Your blood was still itching for a fight, and having Crosshair trapped in a room with you screamed a rematch.
You plopped down heavily on the bunk across the room, stripping yourself of your shoes before reclining back into your own bunk. Your body screamed with soreness, and you knew you should take this time to rest your eyes, but you didn't know if Crosshair would attempt to kill you in your sleep.
Groaning, you turned on your datapad, willing your eyes to focus on the pages of a book you were reading. Might as well catch up on all that you missed.
Minutes turned into hours, and you don't think Crosshair moved. You thought he was asleep, and you almost scoffed at his obvious attempts at reconciling. Surprisingly, none of the other batch members interrupted you both.
You decided early on to ignore him as best you could, but it became harder when the scene you were reading was both main characters arguing with each other. Angry words were spewed in a fiery inferno of emotions, and it reminded you too much of your own scene that unfolded earlier that day. Something gripped your chest when the male main character pinned the female characters wrists to her side, huffing low confessions that made your thoughts even more focused into the book.
Pink
A piece of small, thin wood soared by your legs, hitting your outward leg's shin. You didn't notice it at first, too enraptured to care.
Pink
Another piece landed on your thigh, sharp enough to prick through your blacks. You drew a long, deep breath.
Now, just as you were close to forgetting he was even there, he makes himself known?
Pink
A toothpick stabbed your cheek with practiced efficiency.
You slammed your book shut, grabbed said toothpick, and rose from your bunk so fast you saw stars. "What is your issue?!"
He didn't say anything, just smirked as he leaned back some more. His blacks stretched along his torso, and one arm propped behind his head portraying the perfect picture of arrogance.
"Answer me you d*ck." You spat, gripping the toothpick so hard in your hands you thought it would snap.
"And if I don't?" His snake-like voice sent shivers down your spine. "What are you gonna do about it?"
"Do you seriously want me to continue what I wanted to do to you before we got sent in here?"
His smirk only grew, but he turned his head away from you slightly.
"No, you don't get to shut me out," You demanded, voice as cold as ice yet as impatient as the fire burning in your veins. "Tell me why you got so upset. I know it's not over that rifle."
You saw his whole demeanor change then, jaw tightening, fingers flexing, and eyes closing. Alas, he still didn't answer you.
"Crosshair I swear if you don't answer me this minute-" You started, flicking the still-intact toothpick at his face.
And with a jolt, he stood up and started pacing away from you. "Lay off. Now." He hissed, low and authoritative.
Ha. Take an order from Crosshair? Never.
"And if I don't?" You cocked your head to the side, slightly amused with yourself at your play on words. "What are you gonna do about it?"
Crosshair went from stone faced to angry all over again, and within a few strides he was in your face.
"You think you're so f*cking funny, don't you?" He breathed, irritation evident in his tone. "A little smarta*s, huh?"
"Obviously wasn't so little taking you down, now was I?" You countered back, smiling at his fury. Knowing you got under his skin send a rush through you that you had to continue. "Do you need a rematch to know just exactly how little you are?"
His nostrils flared, and he gripped your wrists firmly. "Don't f*ck with me." He growled, voice octaves lower than you have ever heard him before. His eyes bounced between yours, hoping you would catch on and just stop.
But would you?
Oh h*ll no.
"How come it's so fun to?"
And that was the tipping point for Crosshair. He moved his hands and gripped your jaw, silencing you. "You wanna know why I'm pissed?"
He didn't give you a chance to retort. "Because you almost died, that's why. Had I not stepped into the shot and taken it with my rifle, you would have died."
The humor faded out of you fast, eyes furrowing. Confusion etched into your features, and Crosshair could see it all.
"When have you ever cared about me like that?" You huffed between his fingers, itching for answers.
His eyes became so intense it startled you, and he leaned in closer, noses almost touching. "The only person who gets to target you is me." His gaze flicked to your lips. "Only me."
You took in a shaky breath, hatred melting into a heat that screamed for touch, care, affection.
Only now did you realize it just might be his touch, care, and affection you burned for.
"I'm not yours, Crosshair." You murmured, stuck between confusion and desire. His jaw twitched at that, and you noticed a certain softness in his eyes which directly contrasted the words previously spoken. You noticed how he lightened his hold, and how he inwardly flinched at your words. You noticed his handsome features, his gentle touch on your skin, the desperation his body outwardly portrayed.
He wanted this.
He wanted you.
And he fought to tell you. Fought for your life, fought for his feelings. Crosshair, the snarky, irritating sniper, fought for you.
And you would be d*mned if you stopped this without fighting back.
"Not until you make me yours."
Crosshair groaned as his lips collided with yours, dominance pouring from his mouth. You met his intensity, biting his lower lip which only made him push you on your bunk and assault your neck.
"Crosshair-" You moaned, clawing at his back.
He hummed in satisfaction. "Do I have you begging now?"
You pulled him closer to you, earning a smug smirk from him...
Before you flipped him around and sunk to your knees.
Voice sultry and seductive, you gripped his thighs. "I'll have you begging soon."
You didn't end up marking his face with purple, but his neck and lower half.
And of course, he had to give you similar markings. He was never one to be out beat.
You would be pleased to announce to Hunter and the rest of the squad that you and Crosshair did sort things out.
They just don't need to know what, exactly, got sorted.
Or rearranged.