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The look on Fox’s face when the men pull out a box of slightly dusty bottles from behind the utilitarian couch is nothing short of thunderous.
“This is a safehouse ,” he growls, having barely just shut the blast-proof doors and coded in to headquarters to assure them that, no, they didn’t die en route.
“And we’re celebrating having safely escorted Senator Chuchi here?” Rys tries, cringing as Fox’s bucket swings towards him. Riyo muffles a laugh behind her hand and after a moment takes pity, nimbly stepping between two of the Guard and fishing into the box.
“I think it’s a nice touch,” she says, examining the label on the bottle she pulls out. Not a brand she recognises, but that’s hardly surprising. She’s not versed in anything much beyond Pantoran fare or whatever is served in the Senate refectory. It’s perhaps a more embarrassing fact about herself that she’s never been very adventurous.
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”
“ Senator,” Fox looks at her and Rys retreats gratefully, huddling back into the group of four other troopers. “We can’t protect you if -“
When she realises why he’s worried, she can’t quite muffle the giggle. “If you’re spaced on sugar? It’s just juice, Commander.”
Fox’s bucket swings back to Rys. “You could have led with that.”
Rys’ whole body jolts. “You think we’d drink on the job? Sir.”
He sounds so heartbroken by the implication that Riyo has to stifle another giggle.
Fox lifts off his bucket and rolls his eyes. His grey-streaked hair is plastered to his skull with sweat, and as Riyo watches it starts to perk up into tight curls. Her fingers itch with the need to touch, so she goes back to picking at the bottle label instead.
“Do all the lucky senators that have to hide here get such special treatment?” She asks, bypassing the brown couch with its even darker, mysterious stains to sink down against the wall. She feels better with something at her back, better when she’s facing the door. Better still now that Fox is here. She can feel his eyes on her, the warmth of his gaze like armour plates on her skin.
“Only our favourites!” Carbine says with a wink, then jolts. “Hey!”
There’s a scuffle as he presumably kicks somebody back. Fox sighs and looks towards her, expression softening as he takes in the smile on her face.
“Alright,” he says, holding out his free hand. “Give me one of those. Just…please don’t tell me where you got them.”
It takes five hours, but eventually they wind up playing a drinking game.
Riyo has her knees drawn up under a blanket someone found in one of the cupboards, her hairpieces discarded beside her. Some of the guard have removed paltry pieces of armour or heavy weapons, but most of it remains in place. She hopes they aren’t suffering too much - she’s seen how much the armour chafes.
“- if she was a princess then I’m Jango Fett,” Jeeves snaps, pointing at Cricket across their little circle. “Drink, you cheat.”
“Hey, she said I made her feel like a -“
A piece of ration bar bounces off his forehead.
“Keep it in your bucket, vod.” Rys hisses. “Think about the company.”
“And my ears,” Carbine adds, sniggering when Cricket flushes.
Fox has remained rigid and almost silent during the whole game, alternating between taking tiny sips and staring at the door. Riyo can see his fingers twitching against his thigh plate - he does it at night sometimes when he thinks she’s asleep, his fingertips drumming a staccato rhythm against her spine.
“How about you, Sir?” Jeeves asks, young and bold and unafraid. The other four flinch.
“What?” Fox asks tonelessly. If she didn’t know him well Riyo would have flinched too. Jeeves doesn’t even blink - she’s not sure whether that’s brave or stupid.
“You haven’t gone a round.”
Fox raises a slow eyebrow, the barest hint of amusement playing round his mouth. “Good try trooper, but I don’t think so.”
And it’s reckless, so reckless and stupid, one rumour could be the end of them but -
“Go on Commander, live a little,” she says, almost shrivelling under the sudden weight of everyone’s eyes and then - his brown eyes flash whiskey-bright in the lamplight.
It hits her low in her stomach. It makes her brave.
“One round won’t hurt you. Or are you that afraid for your reputation?”
There’s a sudden, delighted hush around the circle. Fox’s other eyebrow joins its pair in a slow rise.
“Rather the opposite, actually.” He says, dry. “I have nothing to hide.”
“Then why not?” She goads just a little more, and sees the moment he breaks, his tongue swiping over his chapped bottom lip.
It takes him a while to come up with his options, and for a moment she almost feels remorseful, worrying she’s truly made him uncomfortable.
But then he looks up at them all and folds his arms.
“Well?” she asks.
“First, I pretended to be Commander Cody for three days when we were cadets,” he says, and Rys actually yelps with glee. “Second, the first bone I ever broke was my ankle. Third...my favourite colour is blue.”
He’s looking directly at her when he says it. She’s breathless, and she knows that his second one’s a lie, that the first bone he ever broke was his nose on his fourth week of active duty, but she doesn’t know what the others pick because all she can do is focus on remembering how to be the person she has to be when they aren't alone together.
He raises the bottle to his lips and swallows, Riyo unashamedly watching the way his throat flexes as she thumbs the label on her drink. As he puts it down he catches her eye, expression flashing with warmth for just a second, and instantly she’s transported to sunlight filtering through the blinds in her office, the smell of caf curling through her hair, the soft press of her lips on his. Stolen seconds sweet in the early morning, the way the light turns his tired eyes molten, expression lazy and open in a way it so rarely is.
She sighs, shaky, and takes a fortifying sip of her own as Fox’s brothers mutter and elbow each other.
“Come on, Senator, now you give us one,” Ostar grins, flipping a bottlecap and catching it lazily with the same hand. He’s always fiddling with something; like Fox, he’s never still.
She jerks back out of her daydream with a sharp breath.
Out of the corner of her eye she sees Fox stiffen and try to rise, but she subtly tilts her head the negative and he settles back, but doesn’t relax. She wonders if his men notice, and what they make of it if they do.
The night ends with her protection detail dozing on the floor. Only she and Fox are still awake, sitting either side of the kitchen table. He looks dreadful under the flickering strip lights. She suspects she does too.
“The sun will be coming up soon,” she mumbles, breathing in gratefully over the caf he’s made her. She doesn’t know what power he possesses, but he always makes even the worst instant pods taste good.
“You should have slept,” Fox says, his voice roughed by the long hours.
“Too late for that,” she says. “Any word on how Reem’s doing? And Senator Amidala?”
Fox shakes his head. “Amidala’s unharmed. Addressing the Senate this afternoon about this attempt on her Committee, apparently. Last I heard Reem had gone into surgery.”
He doesn’t offer any platitudes. She’s always loved that about him.
“Padme isn’t in a safe house?” Riyo squawks, only remembering to lower her voice at the last moment.
“Believe me, we tried to arrange one. She wouldn’t go,” Fox says, then very obviously rolls his eyes. “Besides, Skywalker’s on planet. No point.”
Riyo grins, and feels the expression grow as he sighs again and throws his head back, thoughtlessly exposing the column of his throat to her. She takes it for the privilege it is, tucking the image of him so gently undone into her heart.
“Regretting coming with me, Commander?”
Fox tilts his head lazily and smiles, reaching across the table to catch her hand, just long enough that the warmth of him soaks through the glove that separates them.
He looks straight at her, so many unsaids teeming in simple words.
“Not at all, Senator.”