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how to be a heartbreaker

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“You lost your lightsaber,” Fox repeats, bland.

“And two 434 Deathhammers,” Ferus say, polite but mildly desperate. Fox is judging him for it, but—Fox is also the one who left him sitting in the waiting area outside his office for almost four hours, so maybe he’s judging a little less than he could. Repeatedly making eye contact with him through the window whenever he stood up to get some caf was probably uncalled for.

Fox makes a show of checking his pad, though they only have five suspicious weapons in their “seized and held” locker right now, and at this point Fox can pick Ferus's weapons out of a lineup. They're usually more well-cared-for than the average smuggler’s kit. “Any relation to the two 434 Deathhammers someone took of Cad Bane last month?” he asks, maybe just a little pointed. Cad Bane is a pain in the ass. Cad Bane tearing through the undercity looking for whoever stole his weapons and left him hanging after an apparent seduction, however, is funny as hell.

Ferus looks more or less unrepentant, which—if he seduced Bane into meeting him in a sleezy hotel, stole all of his sensitive information, his clothes, and his blaster, and bailed before things could get heavy, it’s an expression Fox will admit he earned. If it didn’t make Fox want to punch Bane in the face so much, he might even give Ferus a standing ovation.

“They might,” he says evenly, “have a passing resemblance, yes.”

“Did you know,” Fox says conversationally, “that vigilantism is illegal, even for Jedi?”

Former Jedi,” Ferus corrects, like he isn't the most Jedi bastard Fox has ever met, right down to the fact that he’s unreasonably pretty and inclined to give Fox a migraine. “And I'm quite sure I don’t know what you mean, Commander Fox.”

Fox narrows his eyes at Ferus. This is the fourth time in six weeks that he’s had to come fetch his lost weapons after a Guard raid managed to scoop them up. Fox is beginning to suspect a conspiracy, though he can't quite tell what the point is. Figuring out the layout of the Guard office, maybe, though—well. If someone wants to steal all of his paperwork, Fox won't exactly put up a fight.

He pretends very, very hard that he’s not distracted by every perfectly-pressed line of Ferus, or by the desperate need to rumple him just a little. It’s unbecoming. It’s unproductive. Fox is probably going to have to toss him in a holding cell at some point, and having slept with him will make that unbearably messy.

“If you keep losing your weapons, I'm going to start charging you rent,” he warns, and turns the pad around for Ferus to sign. Ferus grimaces, faintly rueful, and leans in—

Above his head, Fox locks eyes with Thorn, who’s staring. Who’s watching, and his face is Fox’s face; Fox knows exactly what dastardly plotting looks like, and that’s it. That’s it exactly, and Thorn is watching Ferus like he’s about to drag him into something ridiculous.

Fox doesn’t feel protective. He doesn’t. Thorn breaks hearts from ten paces, has a list of past lovers longer than Fox is tall, and all of them have broken hearts and would throw themselves down naked in front of Thorn the moment he crooked a finger at them. The thought of Ferus becoming the next name on that list makes Fox see red, just a little, and it’s not the red of Thorn’s helmet impacting Thorn’s kriffing face.

Never before has Fox wanted the ability to move things without touching them, but if he could tip Thorn’s insouciantly tilted chair all the way over without moving away from Ferus, he’d die a happy bastard.

Normally, this is the point where Fox would hand Ferus off to Thorn or Stone or one of the other clones kicking around the office, but in light of recent developments, he gives Thorn a look that could kill a lesser man and pulls his pad back, then deliberately plants a hand on Ferus's back.

“Come on,” he says. “You can tell me how you forced Cad Bane to run twelve levels in a pillowcase on our way to the locker.”

Ferus flushes faintly, but he doesn’t even attempt to protest. “I don’t know what you're talking about,” he says with dignity, but when Fox slants him a narrow look he relents with a wince and says, “However, if I did, I would assume that he was drunk and told me all about a plan to kidnap Force-sensitive children, and he had it coming.”

Fox is going to like this story, he can already tell.