The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Eleven - Lookin' Good Captain

Note: Um, hello there. Sorry for taking absolutely forever to update. This chapter was honestly just my elaborate excuse to write a shirtless Rex. 

4 Hours Later, Republic Secured Separatist Base, Uyter

Ahsoka was beginning to panic. Just a small, gnawing – absolutely raging, unrestrainable wildfire – edge on the peripheral of her conscious. Anakin was on his way and her tattoo was very, very visible.

Kix was going to get it. She hadn't determined how just yet, but that vain peacock of a medic was going to wake up to a bare, lightning-bolt free scalp.

In the larty that was send down with their overnight sleeping pads and rudimentary holotables, Ahsoka knew there was a crate of extra blacksuits stored. It was placed under the medics' control to replace wounded soldiers' suits that had sustained damage.

What Ahsoka had realized was that the top of the blacksuit would be more than long enough to cover her tattoo thereby solving the problem that was her reality.

So, like any reasonable sentient, she had begged Kix to spare her half of a blacksuit.

And what did that chakaar say?

"Sorry, sir, these are only for clone personnel," he replied, tone studiously blank before his eyes dropped back down to his datapad.

"But Kix, I'm the Commander, and, besides, I heard that General Kenobi used to wear the full kit at the very beginning of the war," she whinged, carefully propping a hand on her hip.

He shrugged, gaze flicking down to her bandaged wound. "Perhaps, once that has healed, we could work on getting a full kit for you, but, right now, you need to let that nick heal."

Ahsoka was already shaking her head. "No, I never said I wanted the full kit – I'd never be able to move. I just need the top of the blacksuit. That's it. I can even give it back to you later. I just can't have Anakin seeing my tattoo."

Something in his expression flickered for just a moment that almost had Ahsoka questioning him, but the man determinedly turned his full attention back to the datapad. "No can do, sir. If you had come to me to begin with, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. Now, unless you'd like to help, I have requisition forms I need to fill out."

Ahsoka groaned, fixing him with a glare and debated for half a second to order him to get her a top, but dismissed it quickly. As much as she needed a long shirt, Ahsoka had sworn to herself she wouldn't order the men about unless she was needed explicitly in her role as their Commander.

Requiring something to cover her illicit tattoo didn't exactly check the criteria.

"Fine," she bit out, stomping away to commiserate with Rex.

Which left her slouched on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest as she leaned against Rex's armored leg, the cool material sturdy against her lek.

"Rex," she groaned.

His helmet tilted down to look at her and she could practically see his amused half smile. "Yes, little 'un?"

Ahsoka glowered at him for his pet-name. "What am I going to do? My Master is heading toward us as we speak and, yeah, he can be rather oblivious at times, but it's not like anyone can really miss my tattoo."

With only a moment's hesitation, Rex removed and tucked a glove into his belt before gently resting a hand on the cone of her montral, hoping it might provide some comfort to her unnecessary stress.