For The Hurt/comfort Prompt, Would You Do 5."C'mere, Let Me Hold You-" With Fox And Wolffe, Or Fox And

For the hurt/comfort prompt, would you do 5."C'mere, let me hold you-" with Fox and Wolffe, or Fox and any of his sibling ? Only if you feel like it of course

I really enjoy your writing and your characterization of all the clone troopers, thank you for sharing it

(Content warning for alcohol mention plus a character being drunk.)

Fox stands in the doorway, swaying from side to side just the slightest, hands holding onto the wall on each side. He’s still wearing his full armor and Wolffe can smell the alcohol from where he’s standing.

“Hey, Fox,” he says casually. His fingers tap onto the cup he’s holding. “Can I help you?”

Fox stands straighter. Or, at least, tries to. “Didn’t know you’d be planet-side,” he says, and yeah, definitely drunk. Wolffe wonders if here’s here to pick a fight.

“Fox,” he says. “Listen. I don’t know how you got into this ship in your state, but I’m sure your vode miss you. They’re probably looking for you all over the place.”

He stands and moves to put away the cup of caf he’d emptied. When he looks back at the door, Fox is still standing there.

“Well, do you want something?” Wolffe asks.

“I,” Fox says. His voice breaks. “I wanted to see you.”

Wolffe sighs. “You’ve seen me now. Go to bed, Fox. You’re drunk as shit.”

Fox still isn’t moving. Wolffe turns back to his cup, makes a mental note to go get more caf from Sinker, later. He only turns his head when there’s a sudden sound that almost sounds like a suppressed sob.

Fox’s helmet is off. It’s hanging by his side as he’s wiping his face with his other hand, and—

“Are you crying?” Wolffe asks.

Fox flinches. His face twists. “M’sorry,” he blurts. “I don’t want to cry. You’re right. I’m drunk.” He hiccups, and the helmet drops to the floor. Fox leans down to grab it and topples over, coming up on the floor with a quiet oof.

“Fuck, Fox,” Wolffe says, forgetting about the caf and getting on his knees beside Fox. The door glides shut behind them. Fox groans.

“Are you going to puke?” Wolffe asks. “D’you need a bucket?”

“I—I feel dizzy.”

“Maker, how much moonshine did you have,” Wolffe mutters, taking Fox’s helmet and pushing it into his brother’s hands. “Put that back on. I’m bringing you back to your barracks.”

“I jus’ thought it’d make me feel less bad.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s not a good coping mechanism. You should know better.”

Fox swallows. He’s not looking at Wolffe but he hasn’t stopped crying. Tears glide down his cheeks.

Wolffe sighs. “Why are you crying, Fox?” he asks, almost helplessly.

Fox eyes glide over him, and then he shrugs, swallowing again. “I jus’ miss you. I know y’don’t love me anymore, but I still miss you,” he says.

Wolffe pauses and blinks. “What?” he asks.

Fox looks at him. “It’s okay,” he says, as if to comfort him. “I wouldn’t love me either. Jus’ hurts. Even though it’s my fault. And it’s also kinda—it’s not. But I didn’t wan’ you t’worry. Or do somethin’ stupid. But I miss you.”

He hiccups, and suddenly something in his eyes turns desperate. “I jus’ want out of ‘ere. Wolffe, I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s never enough. I’m not enough. Can you get us out? You’re—you do rescue missions. This one’s a lot bigger. But still the same thing, right?”

“Fox, what the fuck are you talking about,” Wolffe says.

“It’s not safe here. We’re not safe.”

“Coruscant is the safest place for you to be. It’s—“

“No,” Fox sobs, and Wolffe stops in his tracks, because he’s never heard Fox sob like that before. Something in his chest twists. “It’s not, Wolffe. We’re dying. I’m dying. And, and, the fucking Senators… And I can’t protect my family, even though I try. I’m just so tired, Wolffe. Please get us out.”

“You’re dying?” Wolffe asks. Fox doesn’t seem to hear him. He shakes his head, shrinking away.

“I’m sorry, Wolffe,” he whispers. “I’m asking for too much. I know I am. I just wish we had someone like—General Koon. I wish I could fucking do something. But I can’t. Wolffe, do you understand? I can’t do anything. I just can’t do anything.”

Fox is sobbing in earnest, now, babbling incoherently. Wolffe tries to process any of his words and fails miserably, hands hovering above his knees and fighting the urge to reach out. He hangs onto the part of Fox’s drunken ramblings that’s the most unbelievable.

“You think I don’t love you?”

Fox blinks at him through his tears, breathing heavily, and stops talking. He looks utterly confused.

“I know you don’t,” he mumbles.

And Wolffe wants to cry now, too. He stares at Fox face as he feels his body crumble into itself, feels his shoulders slump and his head sink. “Fox,” Wolffe whispers. “Of course I love you. You’re my batchmate.”

“But you’re always angry with me.”

Wolffe opens his mouth and closes it again, and Fox looks at him, with glassy eyes and wet cheeks, and Wolffe finds that there’s nothing he can say. His gut twists.

“Wolffe?” Fox asks.

“Fuck,” Wolffe says, and opens his arms. Fox blinks, frowning.

“Just—C’mere, Fox. Let me hold you, please,” Wolffe says because he doesn’t know what else to do, ignoring the way his cheek feels wet. Fox definitely notices. His face twists again.

When he finally falls forward he crumbles into Wolffe’s arms with a choked sob. Wolffe slings himself around him, holding tightly, and Fox buries his face in the nape of Wolffe’s neck as Wolffe rests his head on Fox’s shoulder, inhaling sharply.

“I’ve got’cha,” Wolffe mutters, stroking his fingers through Fox’s curls. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Slowly, the tension seeps out of Fox, until he’s lying in Wolffe’s arms, slumped over, apparently drained of all strength. His breathing slows.

Wolffe makes a decision.

“You’re staying with me tonight,” he says, and, fuck, yeah, he’s crying. His voice wavers. Fox continues crying softly, and though Wolffe isn’t sure if he can hear him, he keeps talking. “You’re going to stay with me, and in the morning we’ll talk, and I’ll do everything I can to help you. That sound okay?”

Fox nods. Wolffe feels it more than he sees it.

Only five minutes later Foz falls asleep like that, still hugging Wolffe. Wolffe hadn’t thought he’d be this exhausted, but then again, apparently there’s a lot of things he didn’t know.