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“Really gentlemen?” came the amused voice from behind them. Sigma froze hard, hardwired instinct fighting against new normals, new knowledge that this was allowed, not forbidden, wouldn’t get them worse than dead, ripped away, ripped apart – and then the voice, the particular accent sunk in and – Sigma spluttered a laugh, pulling away from pressing kisses into Agar’s lips to press his face into his neck and just laugh and laugh, loud and helpless and shaking, absolutely disbelieving.
Agar stared wide-eyed past him at where his General stood, arms crossed over his chest, absolutely deceiving himself if he thought that beard of his hid the way his lips were twitching, or the wicked, mischievous glitter in his eyes.
Worse, worse, Marshall Commander Cody, and Commander-Captain Rex were standing at either of his shoulders, both of them looking just… so entertained by this entire situation that Agar was on the verge of spontaneously combusting as blood rushed to his face. Marshal Commander Cody smirked at him and – Agar was doing to die. This was going to be what killed him.
Slowly, carefully, he tipped his head back against the wall, not allowing it to thump the way he wanted to, just coming to rest gently, feeling the hard plasteel behind his head. He looked up at the ceiling. It was a very interesting ceiling. He didn’t spend nearly enough time looking up apparently. All those… bolts and stuff. Super interesting.
“I refuse to believe this is actually happening to me,” Agar declared to the ceiling, resisting the urge to shove the cackling nexu attached to his chest onto the floor on sheer principle. He didn’t add the honorifics. If he didn’t address his superior officers they weren’t actually there, right? Schrodinger’s officers.
Sigma had moved onto wheezing, which was at least quieter.
“This is not happening. This is a nightmare, like when we were shinies and we used to dream about ending up on the battlefield completely naked. I’m going to wake up from this any second now.”
He closed his eyes. Ignored the muffled snicker that could not have come from his superior officers because a) they were obviously too dignified and serious for that and b) they weren’t there.
He counted to ten. Cracked open his eyes, and peaked at the hallway.
“Oh Depths,” he whimpered, pathetic. General Kenobi was looking a bit more sympathetic, though obviously still amused. And still there.
“Gentlemen,” He said, and anyone who said the Jedi were merciful were obviously wrong. Mercy would have been ending Agar right there and then, if he didn’t have the decency to leave and let Agar continue to pretend this was a bad dream. Not, not stand there smirking at him. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to move this to somewhere a bit more suitable.”
“Like your bunks,” Captain Rex growled, and Agar whimpered again. Because he did not need to think about his commanders thinking about him in his bunk with Sigma. Or think about his commanders and his bunk in the same thought. His very, extremely, unfairly attractive commanders and his and Sigma’s bunk and–
“Yes sirs,” he squeaked, closing his eyes again but nope that did not help at all and popping them open again.
“Dismissed,” Commander Cody ordered, but Agar could see he was still laughing at them, deep in his eyes, as he grabbed Sigma and scuttled them around the corner.
The last thing he heard, before he made it out of earshot and began cursing Sigma out and swearing he’d never get to touch him anywhere other than after lights out in their bunks ever again was Commander Cody’s snort, seconded by General Kenobi’s bright burst of laughter.
“Well cyare? Shall we go set a good example of where that type of thing is appropriate – oof! Rex!”