Summary: Tech tries to finish some final adjustments to his helmet before he rests, but Crosshair decides to push his buttons. Hunter's most definitely not amused. One-shot.

A/N: I wanted to get something else out tonight, and decided that this idea was shorter than the other two I have at the moment. So, yeah, have some slightly younger Bad Batch boys. (The next piece is a bit darker than this one, so enjoy the mischief while it lasts).

Joy In Completion

The hour's late.

Tech's tired, they have training tomorrow, the others are settling down to sleep, but he doesn't care. He wants to finish one last adjustment to the visor of his helmet, so he can test out the function of his latest addition when they're on the training grounds.

He's yawning, his eyelids are drooping, his fingers fumble with the tools, but he doesn't mind- he knows that it won't be more than half of an hour, and he's already stayed up a couple of hours too late. He figures another half of one won't hurt.

He knows that the others disagree- they always do. But he keeps working anyway.

"Are you even going to be able to get up tomorrow?" Their latest addition of six months, Crosshair, asks in a near-sneer. His tone of voice doesn't bother Tech, he's gotten used to his brother's personality. "You do know that we have training in the morning, right?"

"Yes, yes, I know." Tech assures him, putting his focus into reattaching the wires of his helmet's communications system. "I won't be up for much longer, I am nearly finis- Oh, come on!"

The sharpshooter's come up behind him and snatched his goggles from right off his face, leaving him in a world of near-blindness.

He gets up from the table in the middle of their room, whips around to face him.

"Crosshair." Hunter warns. "Give them back."

"Whas'happening?" Wrecker mumbles sleepily, already on his bunk and tucked in.

Tech grits his teeth, frustrated, but keeps his tone as level as he can when he addresses the giant. "Go to sleep, Wrecker."

"M'kay, if you say so." From the moving blur that he can see, his older brother rolls over.

"That's hypocritical." Crosshair quips, and Tech thinks he can just make out a frown as the trooper studies him, chewing on a toothpick.

"I was almost done!" He huffs, scowling.

"Settle down, Tech." Hunter intervenes. "Crosshair, give him his goggles back."

"He'll just go back to working."

"Then let him. It's him who'll be tired in the morning, not you."

"His lack of coordination will affect our results." Crosshair argues.

"This isn't an assessment, Crosshair, it'll be fine." Hunters tells him. Grumbling, he adds,"Just give him his goggles back, or else we'll all be as tired as he'll be in the morning."

The sharpshooter sighs, holds out the goggles as he keeps his gaze averted from Tech's.

Tech takes his goggles, relaxing the instant his sight returns. His voice is tight. "Thank you, Crosshair."

Crosshair scowls, muttering something unintelligible as he turns and goes to his own bunk.

Hunter watches, a stern eldest-child look on his tattooed face. "Try not to stay up too late, Tech."

"I won't." He promises, settling back down in his seat as he turns his attention back to his work.

Though the extra time spent working on his helmet proves to have been worth it, he ends up wishing he gave in to Crosshair.

He needs a cup of caf in the morning.