Summary: "Both Crosshair and Hunter shoot him concerned expressions, and he's very glad they weren't there to watch his clumsiness in the hangar." Tech has overworked himself. Again. His brothers always scold him for it, but they show their care in other ways. One-shot.
Down & Out
Tech is tired.
He doesn't mind, doesn't care. It's more of a bother anyway.
He doesn't care that he hasn't slept in four Kamino rotations.
It bothers the others.
Reasonable, supplies his logical half.
But he hasn't lagged behind too much in training, so it's little a setback.
He's spent the past few rotations repairing the Havoc Marauder following their most recent mission- the ship's engines need to be completely rebuilt- they had to call for an extraction- and he's decided to do it all on his own, to the reg mechanics' disbelief. But it's his ship, and he'll rebuild the engine to his wishes.
Wrecker's probably not wrong in how he keeps calling him crazy.
As Hunter isn't wrong in his concern. "Tech, this isn't healthy- you're going to work till you drop, and that's not good for anyone."
As Crosshair isn't wrong with each exasperated roll of his eyes.
Even the regs are giving him more odd looks than usual, for he's in the hangar whenever they enter. He ignores them, however- they're easy to ignore after so many years of enduring their taunts and brutality.
Tech trails behind the others on the way to the cafeteria, his last cup of caf wearing off and leaving him struggling to keep his eyes open. His usually-hyperactive mind is silent, his lively fingers sore at every knuckle. His legs move forward on their own accord, and he only makes the right turns out of habit.
He catches Hunter looking at him over his shoulder every now and then, his instinctive eldest-brother nature kicking in.
"You still with us, Tech?" He asks.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Tech shoots back, as he shakes his head to clear it. Are the bags under my eyes really that dark?
"You look tired." Hunter tells him.
"I am fine." He brightens a little, raising his hand half-way to lift a finger. "I think I have nearly finished with the repairs, actually, though I may still need another rotation- perhaps two- in order to make some final adjustments and perform some tests."
"Will you still be alive in two rotations?" Crosshair wonders dryly, glancing back at them.
"I am not going to drop dead from four rotations without sleep." He huffs, rolling his eyes- but he knows full well that the symptom's he's struggling with are warning of such a thing. He would never nearly stab through one of the lenses of his goggles with a screwdriver under normal circumstances- which he had nearly done several times over the past few hours.
Tech doesn't really pay much attention to what he scoops onto his lunch tray, not until he sits down and takes his first bite of it. Joppa stew? Really?
Wrecker laughs at his expression, having clearly noticed his poor choice of food previously and having chosen not to comment on it.
Both Crosshair and Hunter shoot him concerned expressions, and he's very glad they weren't there to watch his clumsiness in the hangar.
Well, I suppose it happens to be a little late to change my mind now.
Hunter, ever the older brother, swaps their food almost before Tech can notice it. He's too tired to argue the point, so he settles on eating what he's been given. He tells himself to thank the sergeant later.
He finishes eating while Wrecker's away to grab thirds- which shouldn't be allowed, but none of the regs have the courage to confront him about it. He engages in light conversation with Crosshair and Hunter, who've also finished eating.
Crosshair seems, oddly, in a rather charitable mood for once, his expression a little less guarded than usual. He's too exhausted to wonder about it now, though he later concludes it's because his brother's worried about him for his choice of time management and sleep neglectance.
Tech doesn't notice he's nodding off until the his name reaches his lips, having slipped from the sniper's mouth. He shakes himself and straightens up. "Hmm?"
"What's left on the repairs?" Hunter asks, undoubtedly repeating something that Crosshair himself had tried to ask.
"Theā¦the hyperdrive. And the- no, that is all." He tells them, uncertain. "Why?"
The pair exchange glances.
"No reason." Crosshair assures him.
Tech's too weary to recognize an obvious lie. "Oh."
At some point, he ends up leaning against Hunter, though he doesn't notice it. Nor does he notice as his eyes slip shut and his senses seem to dull as sleep begins to claim him.
He does notice when Crosshair reaches across the table and carefully pushes his goggles up from his eyes. He's too tired to open those eyes to look at him, and it's a faint smile that he gives his brother instead.
Strong arms- Wrecker's arms- lift him up, but he's too far gone to really let it jostle him.
When Tech wakes up, he's surprised to learn that it's been two whole rotations- and that Crosshair's finished repairing the Marauder for him.
