otp; doc

Imagine Your OTP 1

A: “doc, i was busy protecting a server from a particularly violent middle aged woman when she smacked me on the face with her purse and that’s how i got my broken nose”

B: “…” *judgemental eyebrow raise*

A: “…you’re right i’m sorry for lying, this is actually from my phone falling on my face while i was lying on my bed”

hoiist  asked:

DOC/JK “Promise me you’ll stay.”

The Jedi had gone to bed hours ago, claiming a headache as her reason for retiring early. After making sure that she wasn’t more seriously ill, Archiban had let her rest. He hadn’t told her that he was going to check on her during the night. She was a patient of his, sure, but the last thing he wanted was people to think that he cared more than that.

Because he didn’t.

The ship was silent as he studied the datapad in his hands. Every test he had run said that there was nothing physically wrong with Jocasta. But there was something.

The months she’d been under the Emperor’s control had been difficult on all of them, but the Jedi refused to talk about what had happened. He wished that she would just talk to someone.

Sighing, the medic placed the datapad on the couch beside him, unable to concentrate on anything. For a brief moment, he listened to the sounds around him. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be bothered, Doc picked up his scanner and climbed the steps to the main deck of the spaceship. All was still. Glancing into the room where the rest of their companions slept, he noticed Kira and Rusk were both sleeping in their bunks, dead to the world. He didn’t see Scourge, but then again, he didn’t expect that the Sith slept much.

As quietly as his feet could carry him, Doc made his way towards the Jedi’s room, knowing that her door would be open. She once mentioned that she liked hearing the sounds of galaxy map. It made her feel safe, secure. He was nearly to the doorway when he saw the pilot’s seat was occupied. At first, he thought it was Scourge, but the outline wasn’t the imposing shape that was the Sith.

No, it was the woman he was about to check in on.

Jocasta was sitting with her feet propped up in front of her. She was gazing out of the enormous window, thousands of stars twinkling as far as the eye could see. It was a beautiful sight, but Doc was distracted. Jocasta’s chestnut hair was no longer secured in her usual ponytail. It tumbled over her shoulders in soft waves. The lights from the galaxy map made deeper tones of auburn more obvious. Her eyes were closed as if she was sleeping, but from the dark circles beneath them, Doc knew that she hadn’t been sleeping at all.

He intended to turn around and return to the medbay, to leave her to her thoughts when a soft voice broke the silence.


The medic glanced back at where she sat, her eyes almost onyx in the dim light. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to give her his trademark smirk but found that he couldn’t muster it. “Hey. I came to check on you. Are you feeling alright?”

Jocasta hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the question. He immediately regretted asking and was prepared to hide in the medbay for the next few weeks until it all blew over. Then she spoke. “I’m not, Doc. I… can’t talk about it. Not yet.”

He nodded, preparing to back away and leave her.

“Can you-” Jocasta paused, shocked by whatever it was she was about to say.

Concerned, he approached her, his scanner ready if need be. “What is it?”

The Jedi dropped her gaze to the floor. She looked embarrassed. “Can you stay? Please? I don’t think I can be alone.”

Doc nodded. Unable to stop himself even if he tried, he slid onto the pilot’s seat beside her. She nestled her head onto his shoulder, his arm cradling her against him. They didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. They just sat together, watching the stars glimmer in the dark expanse of space.