Summary: "He wonders how Hunter's not sending his own senses into overdrive, how Wrecker's still trying to sleep, how Crosshair hasn't turned his back on the sergeant yet." Peace is a rare thing when it comes to Clone Force 99, even among themselves- especially in the early days. One-shot.
Tired Of Fighting
Hunter and Crosshair are arguing.
It's no surprise- it never is. Both Wrecker and Hunter have been at odds with Crosshair since the silver-haired sharpshooter was thrown into their squad.
Tech tries to avoid them when they're like this.
But this time, no matter how much attention he diverts into his datapad, it's no use.
Hunter's shouts and Crosshair's venomous hisses refuse to be drowned out, burrowing themselves into him until his head pounds. He wonders how Hunter's not sending his own senses into overdrive, how Wrecker's still trying to sleep, how Crosshair hasn't turned his back on the sergeant yet.
"-You can't blame that on me. I was following your orders!" Crosshair hisses.
"You could have been more careful executing them!" Hunter suggests angrily.
"Maybe you should have been more careful explaining them!"
Wrecker helplessly glances at Tech from across their dorm.
He can see the familiar tensing of Hunter's muscles, the warning that he's about to punch something- and in this case, it's probably going to be Crosshair.
Inwardly sighing, Tech sets aside his datapad and rises to his feet- they're supposed to be sleeping, not fighting and possibly sending one of their own to the medical bay; especially not at this hour. The Kaminoans would be most displeased.
He's not sure why he does it.
Why he steps between Hunter and Crosshair, at the very moment that the sergeant's closed fist flies forward.
He staggers back, collapsing at Crosshair's feet with a loosely suppressed groan. There's the sound of shattering glass as one of his lenses cracks under the force of the hit, the rings of the eyewear pressing hard into the skin of his face. He barely registers the pain.
He hears a dramatic gasp from Wrecker.
Hunter stumbles back in brief horror, but is quick to regain himself. "Tech, you kriffing idiot- what were you thinking?"
"Of how tired I am of you three fighting." He bites out, irritatedly swatting Crosshair's hand aside as the sniper offers to help him up. He heaves himself to his feet, glaring between the three of his brothers with an exhaustion completely and utterly their fault. "You argue with each other like you do with the regs. I am getting tired of it. I hear enough of it at lunch."
Crosshair's eyes have widened a fraction, Hunter's eyebrows have raised for a brief moment before creasing, and Wrecker's staring with his mouth open. None of them seem to be able to respond to his outburst.
"I am going to bed." Tech finishes tightly, wincing as he lifts his goggles from his face, and sits back down on his bunk. He rubs at his watering eye and lays on his side, facing away from the rest of the room.
His words are followed by silence.
No one comments on the crack in the lense of his goggles or on the purplish-black ring around his eye the following morning.
All three of them make a point of apologizing to him- and the arguments, though they remain, become less frequent.