A/n: Sorry for long gaps between updates but I'm afraid they may become a bit more common. Online school + permanent concussion side effects = electronics are my worst enemy. Might start writing these out long hand and then using a word to text software to transcribe in my free time. We'll see. Anyways here's more of my fave bois Fox & Wolffe!

[Group- Support Squad] Welcome, [CC-3636]

[CC-3636] "Wolffe": thire

"Wolffe": hey thire

[CC-6454] "Ponds": di'kut use private message, it's late

[CC-5052] "Bly": no wait I wanna see where this goes

"Wolffe": I wasn't talking to you ponds

"Wolffe": hey thire

[CC-4477] "Thire": what the kark do you want

"Wolffe": I'm kidnapping fox'ika

"Ponds": good he deserves it

"Wolffe": we'll be at 79s

"Wolffe": under no circumstances is fox to be commed until his shift starts.

"Thire": fine I'll just temporarily promote a lieutenant

[CC-2224] "Cody": again, I'm going to pretend I just never saw the contents of this chat

"Bly": too late, if I have to see this, I'm dragging you down with me

[CT-7657] "Rex": you can just temporarily promote men?

"Ponds": officially?

"Thire": no

"Thire": but who's checking

"Cody": the TWO MARSHAL COMMANDERS IN THIS CHAT, THIRE

"Cody": THAT'S WHO

"Bly": excuse you don't bring me into this

"Rex": it's a brilliant idea

"Rex": can you also temporarily demote men?

"Rex": cause if so, I'm doing that the next time general skywalker gets on my nerves

"Ponds": lmao just ask my general to do that for you, he'd probably be glad to put skywalker in timeout with kenobi

"Bly": :o

"Cody": not everyone sings endless praises about their general like you do, bly

"Wolffe": you're one to talk

"Rex": oh kriff

"Thire": this batch is a nightmare

"Ponds": at least you're here voluntarily

"Cody": tread very carefully, vod

"Cody": or I'll tell them the real reason behind your name

"Wolffe": you wouldn't

"Cody": I would

"Wolffe": and on that note

"Wolffe": I have information to pry out of an inebriated fox'ika

"Thire": please don't get too drunk I still need fox functional tomorrow

"Wolffe": no promises

[CC-3636 (offline)]

Fox was… not as much of a fan of 79's as many other clone troopers were. He knew the majority of the men took one glance at his armor and immediately grew wary of him due to his Marshal Commander rank, something that was only solidified by his inability to easily fraternize with his men like his front line counterparts did.

Wolffe knew this, though, and thus headed for the booths towards the very back of the main floor once they arrived. He was grateful that his brother wordlessly knew and accommodated to relieve his discomfort as much as possible.

The first drink they were brought by a server – "only the best for a pair of brave commanders!"– didn't do too much. Fox relished the burn as the alcohol slid down his throat– wow had Wolffe chosen a strong one– but it was just enough to get him to start to relax. The pair of them swapped stories: Wolffe divulging about his new men and how they'd fared on their relief missions while General Plo attended to several Jedi Council endeavors, and Fox complaining about the recent amount of osik he'd had to deal with from nat-borns in the Senate.

The second drink got them sitting a bit more comfortably in their seats, lounging back as much as they could in their armor. It was well known that one of the common languages of the GAR was gossip, and thus it was only natural for the most senior members to be fluent speakers.

"Has Bly confessed to Secura yet?" Fox groaned, tapping his glass against the table in thought. "Because I'm not sure how much longer I can deal with his after-midnight texts about her."

Wolffe snorted but shrugged as he shot his back. "Better you than me. My bet's on three more missions," he said, referencing the commander full pot they had going on in secret behind their batchmate's back. "He better hold out that long, or I'm gonna lose out to Bacara of all people."

The third drink brought both of their bravado and confidence levels up 200%.

"...and then I jumped off the speeder," Wolffe said with a smirk as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Fox rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, especially once he caught sight of a trio of giggling nat-born females glancing their way from the main dancefloor. "Vod, you're insane."

His chaotic twin snorted and pointed at him accusingly. "Don't act like that with me, di'kut. You did the same exact thing last month except there was an explosion behind you, too."

Fox's eyes narrowed dangerous, but then he shrugged it off sheepishly. "Touché." He couldn't really argue with that.

It was after the fourth drink that his mouth finally loosened and the ball started rolling.

"Y'know, she brought me sugar rolls," Fox sighed as he slumped back in his seat, tipping his head back to look at the colorful strobe lights.

"I heard," his brother drawled from across the table. Fox frowned momentarily as he fleetingly wondered who might've told Wolffe, but brushed it off. At least it meant he wouldn't have to explain the whole situation. "How were they?"

His lips twitched upwards at being encouraged to remember. "Reminded me of her," he sighed, but then his brow furrowed as he chased the memory of the pastries melting on his tongue. "They were so sweet, Wolf-ka."

"I think you forgot a vowel there, Fox'ika."

Fox wasn't fully listening to him anymore; rather, his mind was miles away. "And her eyes, they're actually…" He floundered as he was incapable of finding a word that perfectly described their beauty and depth, but then his wrist brushed against the tabletop and he had an idea. "They're like this!" Fox unclipped his left arm guard, dropping it unceremoniously on the table so he was free to roll up his sleeve and reveal the solid, glittering golden band that perfectly complimented his bronze skin.

"Oh, kriff." Wolffe's eyes widened as he half-rose from his seat, leaning across the table and reaching out to pull Fox's arm closer so he could better observe the ornament. "Is that…?"

"She gave it to me, Chuchi did, after I gave her my blaster." Fox turned his arm over in his brother's grip so he was gripping Wolffe's forearm as well. "Wolffe… she's, she's so bright," he breathed, his face flushed– whether from the alcohol, the hot room, or the foreign emotions he felt rising in his chest, Fox wasn't certain. "Like a star. Wish I could just… orbit around her forever."

Wolffe stared at him evenly for several heartbeats in complete silence, until Fox repeated his name worriedly and he seemed to come back to the present. "That's it. I'm cutting you off for the night."

"What? No, I like these."

"Fox, you sound like Bly."

Fox rolled his eyes. "The only one who sounds like Bly is Cody after his jetii drops his lightsaber again."

"Fine, yes," Wolffe relented with a smirk. "But you're coming in for a close third."

Fox tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. The flashing lights reminded him a bit of twinkling stars, and he sighed contentedly. "She's worth it."

Thire wasn't sure how the two chaos twin commanders had managed to get back to the barracks intact after he took one step into his and Fox's shared bunks and smelled the reek of alcohol on them. Oh, well. It was worth it all just for the holopic he was able to take of Fox and Wolffe smushed together in Fox's bunk, armor laying haphazardly on the floor, half-pushed under the bed.

It was clear from the relaxed way Wolffe and Fox's heads lay next to each other, their foreheads touching gently despite their tangled limbs, that this was something they'd done many times before. Thire knew it probably started on Kamino when they were young in their pods, before they even started truly training– he'd done the same thing with Rys (and a few times with Jek), often sneaking into his pod after long, hard days.

It'd been a while since he'd caught up with his batch brothers, so Thire decided it was best to leave Fox and Wolffe alone to sleep off the alcohol in their systems and would try bunking with Rys or Jek for the night.

But only after he took a bit more photographic evidence of two of the most fearsome commanders in the GAR drooling onto the same pillow. For blackmail purposes, of course.