Chapter Text
Anakin stares at the softness of Rex's sleeping face, pillowed on his flesh arm. He looks young. He is young. Rex is around eleven years old. He's also twenty-two.
The captain was younger than that—around Anakin's age—when they first met. But clones age twice as fast and the war has been going for nearly a solid year.
Anakin sighs, pulling himself closer to warp around Rex wishing he could feel his fingers graze the other's soft belly and tosses a leg over his thighs. Anakin squeezes him just a little. The captain remains fast asleep too used to sharing a small place with multiple people. Like all clones, Rex runs hot to the touch. There's no need for a blanket when you have a clone around. A whole pile of troopers is a living furnace ready to burn any non-clone to ash.
Anakin very much preferred the arrangement he currently has. (He already lived on Tatoonie long enough, thank you.)
Rex sleeping in his uncomfortable cot was the cause of a nightmare. It had become clear the young general wasn't getting much sleep. So Rex, ever the mother hen, asked. Anakin, tired and lonely without the calming presence of his master, spilled his wary heart out to his captain. He hadn't thought Rex would offer him a place amongst the troopers' cuddle pile, but he did. When Anakin politely declined stating it'd be a huge invasion of privacy to the men Rex once again shocked him by offering to stay the night just the two of them. Anakin tried to decline, really he did. But he was just so tired and afraid to be alone that he caved easily.
Anakin sleeps better when Rex is there.
Anakin becomes addicted to it. Sometimes he lies about having nightmares. He lied just now to have this night. It's horrible he knows, but he can't help it.
The blond stirs a bit in his arms, but settles back down soon enough. Anakin loosens his hold just the tiniest bit.
He's putting a lot at stake for this, but it's worth it.