#We all know that the second Anakin puts a foot in Obi-wan’s office
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SithSenator!Obi is a competent hardass and Anakin is sunshine and hugs but what about when Obi-wan can't rescue himself? Wrong place wrong time and he and some other senators are taken hostage and it's Something to feel your jedi work his way through a fortress, see him in full General of the 501st/Hero With No Fear mode, and watch as he dials down to the Anakin who's a bit of a dork and buys you fancy tea and falls asleep on your office couch.
Once again I didn’t expect to write that much about it, but I can’t resist Anakin being a competent Jedi in control, making Sith!Obi-Wan having disgustingly soft feelings he doesn’t know how to deal with the second Anakin is back to Soft Boy in front of him:
In theory, Obi-Wan knows that Anakin is a very good general. He only has to read official reports of various missions he's always assigned to and the battles he fought to remember it. Besides, Obi-Wan prides himself of being a pretty good undercover Sith, so he did his homework, thank you very much. He knows everything there is to know about Anakin's skills, fighting style and way of handling his battalion.
But after a few years around Anakin being so lovable and sweet with him, and even bratty and whiny (Obi-Wan should stop spoiling him so much because it really doesn't help, he knows that, it's just hard to resist his pouty face,) he tends to forget that Anakin is a warrior first, the type of man who thrives in actions and is more at ease in the middle of a chaotic battlefield than on a plush sofa drinking tea.
So watching– no, feeling Anakin in the Force while he's commanding clones and taking charge of the whole operation the moment he gets there, his easy confidence mixed with a relentless determination bordering on cockiness seeping from him in a more vibrant and vivid version of the warm aura he normally exudes, makes Obi-Wan a bit lightheaded for a reason he can't fathom.
When the whole hostage crisis is over, (Obi-Wan still can't believe that Anakin got away with Force-throwing the leader of the terrorist group through a window without a second thought, he would have laughed in delight if he wasn't supposed to look like a startled senator scared for his life) the rescue team takes the time to check the entire floor, making the politicians wait in the great hall while Anakin is busy chatting with the Chancellor and a few other Jedi.
There is a bizarre sensation pulling at Obi-Wan’s chest, something he doesn't know how to name that makes him lose focus of his direct surroundings in favour of stealing quick glances at Anakin and listening to his clear voice giving orders and reporting to Jedi masters. It's such a distinct sound to Obi-Wan's ears, so far from the low and soft cadence he's used to from the Jedi, almost demure. This is the voice of someone in control, someone you implicitly wants to trust to handle the hart parts that no one wants to face. It's the voice of someone you can trust.
And then it hits him right in the face: Obi-Wan is proud. Force, he's so proud of Anakin. So pleased to have the opportunity to witness him so frighteningly competent that he wants to laugh out loud again. His chest almost aches from the need to go to him right away, in the middle of so many people, to tell him how brilliant he is, how remarkable his work was and how glad he is to have him here, and why are people not telling him just that? Obi-Wan has never been effusive, but right now, he desperately wants to give the praises Anakin deserves.
And then he remembers that he can. Well, not right now, but later, in private, he can. That's actually what's expected of him, to stay in Anakin's good graces, to feed his ego and bring him closer to Obi-Wan. No, no, not to Obi-Wan, not really: closer to the dark side.
Closer to Sidious.
He doesn't have time to analyse why this thought –a fact, clear, simple, accepted since the beginning– brings such conflicting feelings in him –he wants him close to him, not anyone else, not any other Sith– because a hand is on his wrist and Obi-Wan can't think anymore.
"Give me a few more minutes," Anakin says, close enough that his breath on Obi-Wan's neck makes him shiver a little, and it’s a good thing they’re half-hidden by a pillar.
It still isn’t Anakin’s usual voice, but it's already softer. A bit more excited too, less in control.
Less Jedi.
"I'll be done soon, I can join you in your office right after. I just- I nee- I wanted to see you. I couldn't before, not during this whole thing, I couldn't bear to..." He stammers, shakes his head a little, and Obi-Wan turns fully toward him before sliding his hand in his, making sure to hide the gesture from anyone else. This is only for Anakin.
"It doesn't matter anymore," Anakin breathes, like a sigh of relief. The general has disappeared now, leaving only a smiling boy holding his hand. "Can I see you after?"
There are so many things Obi-Wan wants to tell him, so many words he thought he could never say to anyone but are now threatening to spill from his mouth without his consent in a mess of adorationdevotionendearment.
But now is not the time. There are Jedi and politicians around, and Sidious who’s making an excellent job at pretending to still be dazed by the event while Obi-Wan can feel him snooping around Anakin in the Force without anyone noticing. The sudden urge to drag Anakin far away from him is hard to repress, just like swallowing the incriminating words he truly wants to say.
He knows that in a few minutes, those unsaid words will be forgotten, washed away by his usual stoicism, buried under his usual rationality and repressed to make way for his need for control. He knows he will try to justify them as a moment of inattention, an uncomfortable confusion that keeps happening as a result of keeping up an act for so long for the sake of a mission.
Anakin will never get to hear them. Never fully have all the proofs he needs to grasp the extent of his sentiments.
But the feelings will stay.
For a Sith, feelings always stay.
So he closes his teeth on the words, forces his tongue to push them back and contents himself with squeezing Anakin's hand.
"Of course, dear one. I'll wait for you."
Anakin, the foolish boy, presses his forehead to his for a second, like he's trying to hide his bashful smile, like it’s already enough, before releasing his hand and walking back to the rescue team and the rest of the Jedi.
It's not enough, it will never be enough. Anakin is a greedy beast who wants to soak in his appreciation and bask in genuine praises whenever he can. But sometimes, just sometimes, Obi-Wan thinks that he understands that a few gentle words and a murmured half-promise cost Obi-Wan way more than he can imagine.
#We all know that the second Anakin puts a foot in Obi-wan’s office#he’s going to get properly extensively and thoroughly thanked#getting on his knees is suddenly completely acceptable if it’s in front of Anakin#sith senator kenobi au#obikin#asks#appleslakesandeuchre
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Caaaan we get a sneak peek at those Ferus Wips, pleaaasde~ ?
“Where are we going?” Leia protests, tugging at his hand, though she doesn’t stop moving. “My father is back there—”
“I know,” Ferus says desperately, and pulls her sideways, one sharp jerk as he practically throws them both behind the jut of a decorative half-wall. In the same moment, there's a thud of steps, loud in plain armor, and Ferus sees how Leia's eyes go wide, the way her mouth instantly snaps shut. He drags her in against his side, curling around her as he ducks beneath the delicate iron scrollwork, and Leia clutches at the rough cloth of his jacket, perfectly still and silent as the stormtroopers march past.
A child shouldn’t have to have any idea about stormtroopers, or how to hide from them, but Ferus is desperate enough that he doesn’t feel anything but grateful.
He gives it a long three minutes after the last one passes before he straightens up, loosening his death grip on Leia and trying to stop the pounding of his heart. “You okay?” he asks, and Leia looks at him, looks in the direction the stormtroopers disappeared in, and pauses.
“They're here because of me, aren’t they?” she asks, and the fact that her voice doesn’t even waver makes Ferus's chest ache.
“Because of what you can do,” Ferus corrects, because he’s lied to everyone for years but he isn't going to lie to Leia about this. Obi-Wan had said—
But then, Obi-Wan seems to forget that Anakin didn’t have one child, he had two. Leia is just as powerful as her brother, and Ferus isn't about to let her suffer for that.
Leia's grip on his sleeve goes tight, and her expression wavers just for a moment. “And—my dad—” she starts, and then stops short, biting into the inside of her lip. Trying not to show a reaction, Ferus thinks grimly, and—she’s only twelve, on a diplomatic trip with her father that was supposed to be easy. Ferus almost hadn’t shadowed them on this one, because there was so little risk at the outset, but—
Best that he didn’t, clearly, Ferus thinks grimly, and wraps an arm around Leia's back, hurrying her forward with him as they break from cover and bolt for the line of trees that edges the next sprawling mansion. At the end of the street, butted up against the deep forest, there’s a ruin of white stone and glass, and Ferus's quick research into this planet didn’t turn up much at all about what used to be here, but—it’s a hiding place, at the very least, and it looks unguarded, which is invitation enough.
“Just a little further,” he tells Leia, and doesn’t risk a glance back over his shoulder even if he wants to. The planet’s curfew starts soon; anyone who spots them will likely pass them off as father and daughter hurrying to get home, and not immediately comm the authorities, which is all Ferus needs. Just a chance and he can get them to the spaceport, get them off-world, and then—
Then something. Training Leia, maybe, but for that he’ll have to find a Force nexus that will hide them, because otherwise Vader and the Inquisitors will just follow their presence in the Force like a beacon. But that means supplies, and arrangements, and days of travel. More chances for Leia to slip, control worn down with stress and exhaustion, and lead the Empire right to them.
She threw three Imperial officers off a balcony. Most initiates can't manage that until they’ve been training for years, and knowing that, Ferus doesn’t have a lot of hope that her next accident won't be just as powerful and just as dangerous.
“I have to warn my dad,” Leia says, tugging at Ferus's sleeve again, though she doesn’t stop moving as he ducks beneath a barrier made of trees trained into a fence and pulls her towards the entrance to the ruin. “He doesn’t know—”
“He knows,” Ferus promises, and slows, checking for guards. He knows that at least one Inquisitor is nearby; he felt them land, knows precisely who would be called to drag a senator’s child away to be trained for the Empire. If the Inquisitor managed to sense them before Ferus got to Leia, if they know what to look for, Ferus has very little hope of making it out of this without a fight.
He’s fought Inquisitors before, and beaten them. But Anakin knows Ferus's presence, and a fight is too great a risk. If Ferus has to reveal himself as a former Jedi, he will, but the fallout will be catastrophic, particularly when Ferus is trying to escape with Leia.
“Do you even have a plan?” Leia demands, keeping her voice low. Ferus opens his mouth to reassure her, then promptly trips, practically falling down a steep ramp of white stone. Leia yelps, tumbling after him, and it’s all Ferus can do to grab her and leap, catching an overhang of stone before they can go spilling down and into the darkness.
“Getting you off the planet is my only plan,” Ferus says, and hitches her up, trying to keep his feet steady on the slick stone. “Can you—if you can get on my back—”
Leia makes a derisive sound, but she twists, scrambles up, gets a foot in the hand Ferus offers and lurches up, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. There's a precarious moment as Ferus feels his boots sliding, and he curses, takes half a second to check their surroundings, and then pushes off hard, launching them off the spur of stone and out over a long, narrow pool that glitters strangely. There's a walkway crossing the water, and he, tumbles over, lands lightly on it, and puts up a hand to steady Leia.
“All right?” he asks.
“Fine,” Leia says, muffled, and a moment later she shoves enough of her hair out of the way to see and demands, “You’re like me? I thought you were just another one of Dad’s assistants!”
Ferus smiles wryly at the outrage in her voice. “Yes, I'm like you,” he allows. “I used to be a Jedi.”
Leia's breath hitches, her arms tightening. “Like—a real Jedi?” she asks, and in the vast, echoing space around them her voice is thin. “Like the peacekeeper Jedi?”
There's too much Ferus could say, and not enough words. He swallows, one hand twitching towards his lightsaber, and hesitates for a long moment before he answers. “I never finished my training, so I'm not sure you should call me a real Jedi.”
“Well, you're more of a Jedi than anyone I've ever met,” Leia says tartly, and Ferus can't help the strangled half-laugh that slips out, a little rueful.
“That’s not saying a lot,” he counters, and hears Leia's unimpressed snort. Hooking an arm under her thighs to hold her steady, he casts a look around them, half of his attention trained on the entrance. “We should—if there’s a back entrance, we should try to hide near it, just in case.”
Leia pushes up with he knees, leaning over his shoulder, and points ahead of them to a tall doorway. “This was a Kwa Star Temple,” she says, like Ferus is an idiot for not knowing that. “Dad and I toured it this morning. Whuffa worms used to guard it, so there are tunnels underneath that run out into the forest.”
Something flickers in Ferus's chest, almost like hope, and he pauses, half-turns as he looks around them. Not what he expected, but—this would have been on the very edge of the Kwa Holdings, one of the last remnants in this part of space after their conflict with the Gree Enclave escalated. “A Star Temple?” he asks. “You're sure?”
“Of course I am,” Leia says, withering. “I read.”
Ferus huffs in amusement, but instead of heading in the direction Leia pointed to, he takes a flight of stairs up, double-time and moving quickly. “If it’s a Star Temple, the Infinity Gate will be at the top.”
There's a moment of startled silence, and then Leia asks, a note of something like excitement in her voice, “You know how to work an Infinity Gate?”
“So do you, technically,” Ferus tells her. “They're powered by the Force. If we can get it running, and use it, it can get us off the planet before the Inquisitor finds us.”
“Inquisitors,” Leia corrects tightly, and a moment later she wriggles down from Ferus's back, grabbing his hand instead as she matches him up the steps. “There were three of them when my father answered the comm.”
Kriff. Something cold pools in Ferus's stomach, even though he tries not to show it. One Inquisitor he might be able to handle, but—three will overpower him instantly. He was always good, and Palpatine’s training and years fighting left him better, but there's no way he can face down three of Sidious’s enforcers and walk away alive. Even getting to the spaceport just got a lot less possible.
“You look like you're about to curse,” Leia says, eyeing him. “Or cry.”
“I only have one lightsaber,” Ferus manages. “That makes three on one a little difficult.”
Leia pulls a face, tugging Ferus left around a trio of tall pillars. “I thought Jedi were supposed to be the best warriors in the galaxy,” she says pointedly.
Ferus gives her a wry smile. “I told you, I didn’t finish training. And besides, the Inquisitors were all Jedi once, too.”
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Major Buir (Plo Koon x reader)
{masterlist}
Words: 3.7k
Warnings: Unedited, Plo Koon trying to flirt but not quite understanding how to make the swoon, Wolffe being the embarrassed son, potential second hand embarrassment for the reader because I think that Plo is very sweet but is not well versed in the art of flirting. Clones being dumb and cute. Angry Wolffe, potential fluff overload-I got a little carried away.
Notes: Yeeee it’s my first time writing for Plo-would it be wrong to tag?...I’m gonna do it. @a-dorin , I would like to thank you for inspiring me to write this. I find myself steadily becoming a Plo simp and your fics have only accelerated my downward spiral.
Also, this was only supposed to be about 1.5k words...woops
……………………………………
“From this, we can conclude that the remnants of the Ehterium cluster supernova would provide a suitable route around this Separatist controlled rat’s nest.” You sniffed carefully and lowered the pointer to tap against the ground but it landed on your foot. Swiftly, you moved it again so it actually tapped against the durasteel floor of the briefing room. A few chuckles slipped from the gathered cloned men and Jedi generals currently scanning over your notes on the holomap that had witnessed the little slip-up. “Though I can understand the hesitance-which is why I have also taken the liberty of charting a different course around the cluster entirely. It would take much longer though and would put you in more danger in the long run as you’d be exposed and out of range for too...long.” You trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of the overuse of the word ‘long’. Even though you’d worked for the GAR since the start of the clone wars (and technically before that if you counted all the academy training) you’d never gotten the hang of the ‘intimidating analytics and tactician officer’ schtick despite trying. You were often compared to a little mouse in the academy-even when you were wielding a blaster. But that hardly mattered when you were one of the top tacticians in the army and the Jedi were very kind to you. Especially General Plo Koon. He was incredibly patient with you as you adjusted to life with the 104th after being transferred from the 205th and he gave off this very warm and loving vibe.
And thankfully your new general was among the Jedi present-calmly looking at you with hands clasped behind his back, respectfully silent as the other masters muttered over the maps you’d provided. You met his eyes uncertainly. While it wasn’t like this was your first time pitching a new tactic to a general it was the first time you’d ever pitched an idea to so many people (eight, to be exact) that were so high ranking. The room was currently occupied by yourself, Depa Billaba, Obi Wan Kenobi, Cody, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Commander Wolffe, and Plo Koon and while none of them were ever rude to you it was hard to not be intimidated. You weren’t the one that had to go through with this plan-they did. They were the ones in danger. Sure, you could lose your job but they could lose their lives. So, you looked to Plo Koon as he would be sure to tell you what he thought.
Perhaps he was so open with you because he could read you better than anyone else? He always knew what you were thinking and knew exactly what to say to help you. If you were honest, it was no wonder why you two were fast friends. And it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that certain feelings had crept up on you. Although you had resigned yourself to never act on them for both of your sakes there was no helping the admiration that prompted you to value the Kel Dor’s opinion over anyone else’s. And just like so many times before, it seemed like Plo knew this for he offered a single nod to you when your eyes met. The tension fled from your shoulders instantly as a silent sigh of relief slipped from you. Plo Koon approved. You had done good. He knew how hard you had worked on the new plans and could cite several instances where he had stumbled upon you slumped over your desk as the testimony to your dedication. Each time the Kel Dor quietly lifted you to your feet and encouraged you to leave the work for the next day as he escorted you back to your quarters. Once the two of you got there, he’d always, always place a secure hand on your shoulder with a squeeze that just barely made his talons dig into your greys as he bid you goodnight before sweeping away with one last order to get some sleep tossed over his shoulder. It was similar small gestures like those that gave you hope that were your situations different-he being a normal citizen like you and not a Jedi with no trace of war-that maybe something could happen. But alas…
“I must say, Major, I do believe you’ve outdone yourself.” Kenobi was the first among the Jedi to speak with one hand clasping his chin and the other clasping his elbow in typical Obi Wan fashion as he scanned over the details once more.
You dipped your head with a carefully practiced, “thank you, General” as your immediate reply though deep inside, your pride swelled. This was possibly your most ambitious plan yet and one that had presented significant challenges. While you were a good tactician, your strong suits lie in terrestrial combat and not space. It felt great to be validated.
“Yes but…” Depa Billaba began with her arms dutifully crossed over her chest as she scrutinized further, “what are we to do about this asteroid field that cuts through our path?” The Jedi asked calmly and you brightened at the mention of it because you had banged your head against it every which way. The asteroid field was the one thing you couldn’t accurately account for as the data you had received on it initially had been outdated. And you explained as much to her.
“However, I am happy to tell you that I may have found a way to...acount for this hazard.” You cleared your throat and leaned over the console to zoom in on the area in question. “This asteroid field is large, messy, and problematic, and had you asked me how to avoid it earlier I wouldn’t have had an answer. But, I think that the best course of action is to separate-to make it look as though the three of you-” you pointed to the generals you were specifying, “are escorting Depa Billaba till she comes in range with the nearby medical station. That way if any Separatists follow you, you can still maintain the element of surprise because I know that if we can make General Billaba’s starship appear vulnerable that they will go for it. Worst case scenario, you dust off the guns a little preemptively. Best case-” again, you clicked another button that revealed a dotted red path through the holo projection, “you can use the asteroids as extra cover while you navigate through this path.” You paused a moment, eyes shifting to gauge the reactions of everyone. From across the table, your eyes met with Commander Wolffe’s who raised an eyebrow at you. “Clone intelligence has informed me that this path might be outdated as well but we will be active on the comms to offer guidance through the field as you go.” Commander Wolffe gave a firm nod and, again, the Jedi and clones retreated inwards to try and think of any situations that they would need to be prepared for. In the weighted silence that followed, you were keenly aware of Plo Koon drawing closer to you as he methodically circled the console before you. His hands remained clasped behind his back the entire time and you couldn’t help but watch him as he approached.
He came to a stop right next to you-close enough for your arms to brush and for his warmth to seep through the fabric of your greys. Plo Koon remained quiet for a little longer, leaving you more time to fight the instinct that told you to lean closer to him before he moved his arms. His taloned hand brushed the back of your own and his vambrace bumped your forearm as he brought his arms up to cross over his torso. You couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling of even that minuscule contact which almost caused you to miss the compliment he paid your way.
“Uh...th-thank you, General.” You coughed into your fist in a not so subtle way to correct your stutter. “But really, my plan is only good because my data was good. You should really thank your men that got me the information.”
The Kel Dor made a huffing sound that would have sounded like a laugh if not for the heavy overlay from his mask. “Believe me, Major, I will but you do deserve some of the credit.” He stressed, even going so far as to grasp your shoulder very briefly. You could still feel the imprint of his touch when he moved his hand away.
“Anakin, you’re being unusually quiet.” Obi Wan saved you from further implosion as he addressed his former padawan. You and Plo Koon both turned your attention back to the other occupants in the room and you were unsettled to find General Skywalker’s eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny as he glanced between you and the Jedi Master. Perhaps more alarming though was Wolffe’s face. He was staring at Plo Koon with what you could only describe as a bug-eyed look.
“Just thinking, master.” Skywalker eventually answered. Your jaw tensed in uncertainty though the younger man said nothing more regarding the visual dissection of your interaction.
The meeting continued for a few more minutes with you working to finalize the more minute details and to take measures to establish backup plans that would most likely be abandoned by the Jedi at the first sign of conflict and the Jedi began to disperse with their own CO’s. Eventually, that left just you, Wolffe, and Plo Koon. At the first sign that the meeting was adjourned, you began to pack your things up and to log off the computers but instead of leaving you to your own devices like you thought he would, Plo Koon remained with you. He casually waited at the console you had left him at with his hands clasped before his diaphragm, a common gesture for him you’d noticed, while Wolffe awkwardly hovered near the door.
“Was there anything else you needed, General?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at the Kel Dor. He stood up straight and approached with light footsteps.
“Not particularly, Major, but I would like to congratulate you once again on another excellently thought out plan.” Plo Koon’s voice was as calm as it ever was but there was something there-a slight lilt you weren’t familiar with or maybe it was better described as a squeak? Slowly spinning on your heel, you turned to face him.
“Well,...thank you, General. It...It’s my job.” A part of you swore at your inability to take a compliment properly while the other parts were all focused on Plo Koon. Sure, he’d complimented you on your plans before (he did during the meeting) but he had always reserved the more serious praise for after the missions and the debriefings. He’d never stayed after the preliminary meetings.
“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you called me Plo Koon-it feels far too impersonal to be addressed as ‘general’ outside of meetings.” The Kel Dor explained with a raised hand to stop you from saying anything else till he had said his piece.
You blinked. Once. Twice. Before eventually sliding your gaze over to Wolffe who had a hand clasped over his eyes. That gesture only added kindling to the confused fire as you returned to the man in front of you. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss-his mask looked in place and to your knowledge, he hadn’t been in the medbay recently. “As...whatever you wish...Plo.” You swallowed, his name-something you’d said in your head thousands of times before-felt foreign on your tongue. “You can of course call me ‘Y/n’...then.” You offered uncertainly.
“Of course,” he echoed with a nod. “I’ve always thought your name fitting.”
“Thank you…?” You asked uncertainly.
“I just mean that it is a strong name and you bear it well.”
“...” Again, you couldn’t help but look over at Wolffe who had taken his face in his hands in what could only be described as a picture of absolute mortification. His helmet was awkwardly squished into his chest as he shook his head from side to side, lips moving as he formed words you couldn’t hear from where you stood. “I...uh...I like your name too, Plo. It’s gentle…?” You tried as you returned your attention to the Kel Dor and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.
He brightened, back straightening up as he continued to regard you. “Thank you, I’m rather fond of it myself.” A silence fell over the two of you-horribly tense and laced with an awkward air you had no way of dissipating anytime soon. Averting your eyes from the Jedi, you rolled your lips in and bit them as you fished for something else to say.
“Is...are you sure there wasn’t anything you needed, General?” You finally asked after shifting on your feet for the third time.
Plo Koon shook his head, less in a form of denial and more like he was trying to shake himself out of a stupor before answering. “I’m positive but while we’re on the subject of names I feel it is important for me to inform you of the new one circulating amongst my men.”
You raised your eyebrow at the Jedi, not missing the way Wolffe froze entirely. “A new name for me or…?”
“For you.” Plo nodded. “It seems as though they’ve taken a liking to calling you ‘Major Buir’.” There was something in his voice that told you he was smiling (or the Kel Dor equivalent of smiling) beneath his anti-ox mask.
“Buir?” You questioned as your mind raced to dig up a definition for the Mando’a word you’d heard assigned to the Jedi on multiple occasions. “As in what the Wolfpack calls you?”
“Indeed. Are you familiar with Mando’a?”
“After fighting alongside the clones?-of course, but I’m afraid most of the terms I know relate to fighting, tactics, or swearing.” You explained promptly with a glance to Wolffe at the mention of his language-the clone in question looked frozen in his spot and it seemed like he was no longer alone as you could swear you saw the familiar red hair of Boost and the silver of Sinker ducking behind the doorway.
Plo Koon suddenly leaned forward, getting closer to your height as his voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Buir is Mando’a for ‘parent’, Y/n.” Immediately, it felt as though someone had locked you in carbonite-your heart was still warm as it surged with affection for the men of the 104th yet at the same time your body felt the familiar frozen tingle that so often accompanied the sensation of treading through uncharted territory. You were keenly aware of Plo Koon’s proximity and the way your heart sped as a result. In an attempt to combat this you took a deep breath to steady yourself and regain control over your vocal chords. But that was a mistake as Plo’s natural scent infiltrated your senses. He smelled of leather and fresh air, of tea tree and some other piquant scent you couldn’t name that you knew was the remnant of one of the contraband candles he had hidden aboard the ship. It was so him-something the standard issue GAR soap couldn’t hide-that it overwhelmed you in an instant and you found yourself leaning closer. He, a flame, and you, a moth.
Your lips parted slightly as your face relaxed and you swore that you’d never felt calmer. It felt like someone was wrapping you in a hug; you felt safe, wanted, and adored. “But...if they call you that and are now calling me that…” you began through the sudden dwam your mind floated in. The pieces were starting to fall into place. “Then...General Plo Koon,” your voice suddenly became firm as you forced yourself to step back, “Are you trying to flirt with me?”
Plo Koon straightened up, his hands finding their usual resting place crossed in front of his stomach. “I am. Was it not obvious?” He asked, his held tilting to the left just slightly.
You briefly thought back to the somewhat strange string of compliments he’d paid you that lead up to this. “Uh...no, not really.” You explained quickly, eyes now flickering around the room in an attempt to come up with a reply to this revelation.
“Hmm.” Plo Koon hummed. “My apologies then. Boost encouraged me to be forward-perhaps it was not enough?” You blinked up at him, gaping like a fish-if that was Plo being forward then you wouldn’t have stood a chance if he had taken a subtle route.
Before you could say anything though, Wolffe’s explosive voice cut through the briefing room as he rounded on Boost. “You told him to do what?!” The commander barked at his red-headed brother who had long since abandoned hiding behind the doorway and was now standing tall with his chest slightly puffed.
“Oh come on, Vod, we both know the General likes ‘em! And Major Buir wasn’t going to pick up on it anytime soon. I was just trying to help!” He huffed back, practically getting in Wolffe’s face.
“Meddling isn’t helping, Boost!”
“I dunno-seemed pretty effective, Commander.” Sinker chimed in.
Wolffe wheeled on him next. “Don’t tell me you were in on this too!” The one-eyed clone seethed. “If you weren’t my brother I’d-”
“Boys!” You snapped, having heard enough. The three brothers stopped immediately and turned to you; each one bore a similarly sheepish grin. With a shake of your head, you turned back to Plo who had watched on in amusement. “Plo, I’m flattered but...what about your code? I know attachments are dangerous and I wouldn’t want to be the reason you-”
The Jedi master raised a hand. “My dear, attachments aren’t dangerous. It is how they can be used against a Jedi that is.”
“I don’t follow.” You tried only for Plo to shake his head.
“Yes, you do.” The Kel Dor dropped to your height again. “Y/n, if attachments themselves were dangerous Jedi would also be forbidden from being compassionate.” You were stricken silent, painfully aware of the three pairs of eyes currently fixated on the two of you. “But even if they were, I’d still find you worth the risk.” Your heart melted, a soft ‘Plo’ slipping past your lips that made the Kel Dor incline his head. “I know you care for me too, Y/n, so...are you willing to be with me?”
You bit your lip in thought, a smile creeping across your face as you looked up at the Jedi. “I’m guessing there’s no talking you out of this?”
“You may try but my feelings will persist.” Plo countered immediately-a lightness to his voice you hadn’t heard before.
You chuckled briefly and let your gaze slide over to the three clones now curiously peering at the two of you. You took in their identical faces and the imploring looks each one was giving you. When had the Wolfpack wormed their way into your heart? Probably around the same time their general did. You turned back to Plo Koon. “I say...of course,” You smiled and slipped onto your toes to wrap your arms around the Kel Dor’s neck. He returned the embrace with a low hum, his arms slipping around your waist, “ner Jetti.” You could hear whooping and hollering from the entrance to the briefing room.
……………………………………………………..
The barracks were dark and crowded later that night-many of the men from the 104th had all crammed into one room to watch the holofilm you’d smuggled onto the starship. It had been about three weeks since the fateful meeting that led to the union of you and General Plo Koon and each day had brought a new development in your aliit as word of your relationship spread. For the most part, none of the men were surprised-some even commenting on how Plo Koon was apparently unable to tear his eyes off of you during meetings, holocalls, or your brief but frequent trips to the base on Coruscant. But there were a few who weren’t expecting it at all.
But everyone you’d told had been supportive. And now as you sat curled into Plo Koon’s side with clones draped all around you as most dozed off in the peaceful barracks you could safely say that you’d found where you belong.
A tug on your arm pulled you away from the nearly impossible to hear holofilm (the few soldiers that were still awake had turned the volume down so they could let their brothers sleep) and to the clone currently barely awake with his head on your lap. “What is it, Boost?” You asked in a whisper, keenly aware of the sleeping Sinker and Wolffe on Plo’s other side. Still, your voice managed to catch the Jedi’s attention as he turned his head towards the two you.
The red head stared up at you blearily, a yawn interrupting him before he began speaking. “I just wanted to say that I’m happy you and general buir are together now. And that I’m glad I could help.”
A breathy laugh escaped you that Plo helped quiet with a hand over your mouth. He dipped his head to gesture at Wolffe who grumbled and curled closer to Sinker in his sleep. In retaliation, you batted his hand away and rolled your eyes at the Kel Dor before looking back at the sleepy man. “I am too, Boost. Thank you.” You answered fondly, letting your head fall against Plo’s shoulder.
“Like I said-” he cut off to yawn, “happy to help...major...buir.” Boost trailed off as his eyes closed and he wormed his way closer to you.
You smiled. “Thank you, ner ad’ika.” As Boost officially fell victim to dream land you turned towards Plo who had watched the exchange carefully. The same feeling of being hugged, of being safe, wanted, and loved infiltrated your senses but you now recognized it as Plo’s signature. Still bearing that soft painted smile, you pressed your forehead to his. A final whisper of thank you slipped from you as you resigned yourself to stay in that moment forever.
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Can we see Obi-wan getting the hugs he deserves? (preferably gen)
[Rating: T] || [tw: slavery mention]
For once in his life, Obi-Wan Kenobi is eager to get to a medbay. As Ahsoka breaks off to speak with the Togrutan Governor, he splits off with Plo and Anakin's group, following them as his former padawan and his fellow council member discuss the reconstruction and relief efforts the Republic will be making.
He keeps a smile on his face, his shoulders up, back straight, and barely listens. He gives his input where it's asked for, nods approvingly at what they say, and then at the first break in conversation, he begs off. "Ah- you two certainly have things handled from here. I think Helix might kill me if I don't have have my shoulder looked at, so if it's all the same, I'll leave you to it."
He gives them both a quick nod and farewell, then follows the steady stream of clone troopers and (former) Togrutan slaves towards the medbay on Plo Koon's flagship. As he walks, he recognises several refugees who were direct victims of his attempts to 'help'. He averts his eyes after that, unable to bear the weight of the guilt he feels for their suffering.
At least no more will suffer for his attempts to make things better. But that isn't true, is it? The great and terrible General Kenobi, bringing peace to world after world by force. He goes where the war does... or perhaps war follows hot on his heels.
No. Focus. Mind clear, eyes ahead.
His posture goes rigid, eyes fixating forward and catching on the nearest Togrutan victim. She's limping, clearly struggling to walk...
She needs help. He could go up to her, offer her his good shoulder to lean on--
The ghostly buzzing of an elecrowhip stings his ears, and he flinches irrationally.
He has to duck into an empty hallway for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning against a wall. The cold durasteel against his forehead helps, mostly.
He must get ahold of himself.
Why can't he move past these feelings? Why won't the Force accept his guilt, let him release it. Why is it so different from last time?
He's been a slave before... he remembers it, if only vaguely. A month spent on bandomeer, an explosive collar 'round the slight neck of his 13 year old self.
It hadn't hurt so much, then.
What makes this encounter so different? What-- no, don't think about it, don't think don't thinkdon'tthink---
Obi-Wan stays there for a moment, frozen as he's torn between trying not to think and trying to force himself to move past this moment. He still needs to get to the medbay.
It takes longer than he would like to admit to collect himself. Once he has, Obi-Wan leaves the hallway, rejoining the procession to the medbay. Meditation and rest, that's what he needs. He'll be fine once he has that.
Meditation and rest, that's all. Right foot, left foot. Keep going, down the hall.
He almost doesn't notice when he reaches his destination, eyes downcast. He's just become part of the flow of people around him, head down, feet dragging as exhaustion creeps in on him.
The only tell that he's entered the medbay is the sight of the threshold as he crosses it, and the sound of gruff clone voices guiding people where they need to be.
Finally, his head lifts, and he takes in the sights around him.
Dozens of Togruta are scattered around the room in varying degrees of distress. He feels tears begin to sting his eyes as he sees a man laid face down, still as death while a medic cleans the electrolash wounds on his back and lekku. The wounds must hurt terribly to be touched, but the elderly Togrutan simply doesn't have the energy to flinch as each lashing is sterilized and then covered with a bacta strip.
His eyes fixate on that one man, frozen to the spot. He doesn't move, not until he feels a hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch from the suddenness of it.
The clone who touched him immediately lets go, seeming shocked by his reaction. "General Kenobi, sir," the man says, and Obi-Wan belatedly recognizes him as Wolffe, Plo's Commander. "Are you here for medical assistance?"
It takes Obi-Wan's brain a second to catch up to the present. "I- er. Yes. My shoulder--" he cuts off, which he knows is unlike him. Glancing around the room, he hedges slightly. "It can wait. You have more pressing injuries to tend to."
"Nonsense, sir." Wolffe says, jerking his head to indicate that Obi-Wan should follow him before he walks along the medbay. "We have plenty of beds and hands to go 'round. I'll get you settled and a medic will take a look at your shoulder. Anyways, I know Helix would have my head if I let you sneak away the one time you voluntarily come to a medbay, sir."
The point makes a tense smile crack across his face. Clearly, his medical officer has a reputation even outside of the 212th and 501st. "Commander, don't tell me you're scared of Helix," he manages to tease.
"Scared?" Wolffe asks, the brow of his blinded eye arching judgementally. "That maniac took down half a dozen droids with just his medkit once. I'm terrified, and frankly, sir, you'd be wise to fear him too."
Obi-Wan remembers that. The infirmary tent was ambushed, and by the time Obi-Wan got back to assist, those in the tent had it handled already. Between Helix and those troopers who were still conscious and able to shoot, the ambush was soundly reduced to scrap metal.
Hm. Perhaps he should be more wary of igniting his medic's ire.
"... point taken, Commander Wolffe." Obi-Wan responds, letting himself be led to an empty bed.
There are still plenty more open, so as Wolffe said, his worries of taking up someone else's space are unfounded. Obi-Wan winces as he pulls himself onto the bed, making his shoulder light up with pain. He brushes off any offer of help however, his heartbeat jumping irrationally at the prospect.
Once he's settled on his bed, Wolffe calls over a free medic, and then bids him farewell, moving on to the next person in need of help.
His wounds (far more extensive than just the shoulder, but nothing critical) are quickly cataloged by the junior medic, then he is given some water and told to relax.
He doesn't, not quite.
It's downright impossible for him to really calm his mind, but he is exhausted. After several stretches of time spent staring listlessly at the ceiling and not thinking, Obi-Wan manages to fall into a restless sleep. (... With the aid of the water and a couple pills left as an option to him.)
°|●*.•
When he wakes again, there is a hand on his back, shaking him.
Obi-Wan jolts, involuntarily shuddering at the touch before he forces himself to be more awake. He's still in the medbay, the smell of bacta and sterilizer gives that away. His face is wet, though. Did they need to put bacta on--
Oh, no, those are his tears.
"Obi-Wan," a voice he recognizes as Anakin's cuts through the fog of his sleep-addled mind.
He manages a grunt, then rolls on his back and props himself up using his good shoulder. His other still hasn't been tended to, so he can't have been here that long.
"Anakin?" He greets, quickly wiping the tears from his face. He must have been crying in his sleep-- nothing new, at least in recent times. He's not sure exactly what it was for, but it isn't hard to imagine. There are plenty of tearworthy tragedies in this room alone.
There's a little bit of awkwardness as Anakin appears to have difficulty finding something to say, so Obi-Wan helps. "I thought you'd be busy still. I know there's still so much to do... I apologize for slacking."
Anakin shakes his head quickly, looking like he wants to reach out before thinking better of it, given how Obi-Wan flinched as he woke. "There's not much, really. Our part is pretty much over, we're just supposed to rest and recover." He pauses, unsure. "Are you okay? You were crying."
The older Jedi's shoulder begins to ache, so he pulls himself up to sit properly and lean against the headboard. He hasn't had a chance to change-- his clothing is still torn, and smells of the filthy mineshaft, and smoke.
"I'll be fine," he promises, eyes downcast as he prays it will be true. "There is so much pain in the force, I can't quite help a few tears." That is far from the true reason, but he hopes it is enough to satisfy Anakin's curiosity.
“A few tears,” Anakin repeats, voice oddly flat. His shoulder twitches in another aborted attempt to reach out. “Obi-Wan... you were sobbing.” The elder Jedi’s gut drops as he listens. “You wouldn’t wake up, they called me here to see if I could help.”
It’s only then that Obi-Wan notices the pair of medics hovering nearby. He feels a sudden flush of embarrassment. Stupid. How could he be so idiotic as to sleep in such a public place, knowing he would have nightmares?
He should have gone back to his quarters first...
Only, the 212th is still several hours away, and he was so exhausted...
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, fighting the ridiculous urge to hug himself. He is a Jedi Master, a Council member.
Anakin is shaking his head. “What? Why? Obi-Wan, are you sure you’re okay?”
He isn’t. “You shouldn't have needed to cone down here to wake me up. I... I'm alright. It was just a nightmare."
"Master," Anakin starts firmly, and moves a little closer, feeling bold. "First of all, I was gonna come see you anyways, so you didn't... inconvenience me, or whatever ridiculous thing you're thinking. Second, if you're hurting, I don't care what work I have, I'm gonna come to help you."
Obi-Wan's knee-jerk reaction is to think about how very against the code that is. Worryingly so. But that thought is quickly overridden by the warmth he feels upon Anakin's declaration of loyalty, of unconditional friendship.
What did he ever do to deserve a padawan with such a gentle heart?
Obi-Wan relaxes a bit, for the first time in days. "... thank you, Anakin." He finally responds, letting out a breath he feels he's been holding for weeks.
"I mean it," Anakin insists. "No thanks needed." He pauses, and Obi-Wan thinks he can sense a faint buzzing from Anakin's mind.
He can tell his former Padawan is trying to send him reassuring, comforting feelings through the force... he's radiating protective warmth like an emotional space heater. If Obi-Wan felt ready to share the state of his own mind, he would be basking in it.
As it is, he keeps his mind and force signature firmly closed off.
No need to show Anakin the horrors within.
As Obi-Wan struggles to think of something to say, Anakin appears to grow impatient. He clearly has questions, and he's never quite been the type to hold off on them, regardless of timing.
"Master... I don't..." he stops, having difficulty phrasing his question. "I mean. You don't cry... ever. What happened? What was your nightmare about? If... if you're okay with talking about it."
Obi-Wan almost laughs, but the sound sticks in his throat, becoming a choked noise.
What was he crying about? Look around, Anakin. The answer should be obvious, he wants to say.
He doesn't, though. He knows they've been in similar situations before, rescuing the citizens of Ryloth, for one. He didn't cry then, so why would now be any different?
Anakin's last concession sticks in his mind, though. Is he ready to talk about it? Can he bring himself to?
No.
Force, no. He can't even think about it.
His hand flutters awkardly as he struggles to find a place for it, resisting his urge to hug himself. "I... not right now, Anakin."
It's not a never, though. Obi-Wan knows... intellectually he knows that Anakin would understand. That, of everyone he knows, Anakin, a former slave and fellow Jedi, would understand the damage done to him. He may even have suggestions for how to help.
"Okay," Anakin hides his disappointment to the best of his ability. Obi-Wan appreciates the attempt, even if he sees through it. "... when you're ready, Obi-Wan. I'll be here, whenever you need me to listen."
The assurance brings a wan smile to Obi-Wan's face. "... I'll find you when I am, dear one."
No one can make Obi-Wan feel quite as safe and at ease as Anakin does.
The younger Jedi beams at the promise, moving a little closer. "Since you're not in a talking mood, want me to tell you how my part of the mission went, Master?"
The change of subject is a releif. Obi-Wan nods readily, happy to listen to Anakin's impromptu and likely dramaticized mission report.
He listens with rapt attention as Anakin goes through all of what he considers were 'the fun parts', making jokes and blowing quite a few details out of proportion.
It takes Obi-Wan's mind off his own experience, and he finds himself smiling along as Anakin finishes his story. By the end of it, Anakin is sitting on the edge of his bed, his thigh pressed along Obi-Wan's through the sterile sheets.
"Hey, Master?"
The epithet draws Obi-Wan's attention, and he nods to indicate Anakin shoukd go on.
Anakin is... a little hesitant. "Is it okay if I touch you? I wanna give you a hug, but not if it'll make you uncomfortable."
The question makes Obi-Wan's heart swell, and he finds himself nodding even before he consciously decides. "Anakin... yes, of course. I think we both could use one, after this mission."
Once again, Anakin beams, his force signature liked a supernova of happiness as he surges forward, wrapping his arms tight around Obi-Wan. "Yeah. And good, because I'm not letting go anytime soon, old man."
Obi-Wan ignores the pain in his shoulder. It's nothing compared to the warmth and security he feels right now in Anakin's embrace. He feels... cared for, loved, appreciated. All of the things that slave camp stripped from him.
It's gonna be okay, he realizes. This will pass, because he has Anakin here to help him make things right. When they're together, no challenge is too great, no problem is unsolvable.
Just as he's relaxing into the hug, getting comfortable for the duration, he hears quick footsteps and a gasp.
"Masters!" Ahsoka greets them cheerfully. "I just came to see how you're doing-- I didn't know it was hug Master Obi-Wan day! Can I have one too?"
"Get in here, snips," Anakin says, lifting an arm to make space for her.
"Always room for one more," Obi-Wan agrees more mildly, also making space to accommodate their padawan.
Ahsoka doesn't need to be told a third time; she squishes herself tight into the embrace, hugging both her teachers with all the strength in her limbs.
"We should hug more often," she says decisively.
"Definitely," Anakin agrees.
And well, Obi-Wan woukd say he's outnumbered, but he would agree either way. "We should," he responds softly, hugging them both a bit tighter.
They're a family, and he couldn't ask for a better one.
#obi wan kenobi#anakin skywalker#kadavo arc#obi wan gets a hug#obi wan needs a hug#ahsoka tano#commander wolffe#hugs#team hugs#the trio#clone wars gang#clone wars#zyggeria fix it#prompt#coalmine301
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I just saw your post asking for prompts, so if you're interested: Obi-Wan/Cody, nr 15 Getting together at Palpatine's funeral. I have never seen that idea before, so I'm very curious! Stay safe and healthy, and thank you!
CodyWan getting together under the cut!
Obi-Wan’s teeth were gritting so hard it was a miracle they weren’t falling down under such pressure. The cowl of his Jedi’s cape hide enough of his face than most people would only see what he wanted them too: a Jedi Master, solemn and grave, as they buried the Chancellor of the Republic. A Jedi Master as many other, a pillar of strength hidden in brown and beige, someone who carried the orders of the Senate, someone who protected, someone who was a vessel more than a person.
Cody, standing next to him, as every Commander stood next to their General, knew better. He could see the movements of his jaw, the flex of his brow. He could feel the tension, the anger…
In all the years of the war they had shared, he had never seen Obi-Wan so angry. He had seen Obi-Wan after the mother of all battles, he had seen Obi-Wan hurt almost to death, he had seen him choking on his grief, he had seen him drunk and sad and joyful, he had seen him playful and wise, he had seen bored and he had seen him peaceful. Nevertheless he had never understood the depth of the anger which could sweep that gentle soul until the moment the two of them had entered the Chancellor’s office and found three dead Jedi Masters and an Anakin on the verge of falling who had just cut one of Master Windu’s hand.
Until Obi-Wan had seen a Sith Lord trying to make his Padawan, his child, Fall.
Almost one week after, that anger had not abated.
Cody was honestly a little surprised by how much Angry a Jedi Master could go without getting all murderous and yellow-eyed. Master Windu had explained to him at length the difference between Righteous Anger and Murderous Rage and Cody had honestly lost his footing in the discourse much sooner than he would like to confess. It probably hadn’t helped that Master Windu had been on so, so much medication at the time and insisted to cite obscure Jedi philosophe dead for centuries every two sentences.
Anakin and Obi-Wan had still not spoken to each other and Anakin was the only adult Jedi on Coruscant not present to the funeral, with Master Windu still in bed rest.
Officially, it was because of the injuries the two of them were supposed to have received in defending, unsuccessfully, the Chancellor from the Sith Lord. Unofficially Master Windu was effectively drugged to his gills, but Anakin was hiding into Senator Amidala’s apartment to be sure he wouldn’t see Obi-Wan.
The former Master Padawan pair had yelled at each other a few times via holocommunication and the only results Cody had observed was Obi-Wan’s blood pressure skyrocketing. Not that he needed it: everything seemed to put Obi-Wan in a terrible mood since Palpatine’s death, and Cody had started to play interference to be sure his Jedi wouldn’t burn all his bridges.
And now, here they were. Standing at the burial, pretending very hard the dead Chancellor hadn’t been an enemy of all life, all in the name of politics. It had been decided the truth would only worsen the situation, including the coming-soon peace talks. Obi-Wan hadn’t liked one bit to be forced to pretend like that. For the man who had tried to take his child! Master Gallia and Obi-Wan had had the Jedi equivalent of a row, all polite words, subtle metaphors and gleaming smiles, and Cody, who hadn’t left the side of Obi-Wan since Sidious’ death, would have sworn it had been more vicious than some battles against Grievious. In fact, Obi-Wan had been vicious all week, not only with Anakin and Master Gallia and Cody, if he hadn’t adored the man so much, would have throttled him a half-dozen times. It felt like Obi-Wan was bracing himself for something even more terrible and all his energy went to that bracing, leaving nothing to act like a civilized being.
“Oh, I can’t take it anymore,” Obi-Wan finally admitted at the beginning of the fourth speech, some Selkath ambassador whose name Cody didn’t take the time to remember, “let’s go find a drink or I will do something stupid.”
“Everybody will see if we leave,” Cody remarked sotto voce and Obi-Wan grunted something rude and turned on his heels.
Cody followed, because he wasn’t sure Obi-Wan wouldn’t try to burn down the Senate in this state of mind. And sadly, today Cody was his adult supervision. Not that he sometimes didn’t have the urge himself, but it would derail the plans for clones’ rights that Senator Organa was pushing at the Senate.
They ended in a cantina in some area of Coruscant the Commander didn’t know. A careful examination of the décor persuaded Cody it sometimes doubled as a brothel but he wasn’t a prude. Also, the brandy was good and reasonably priced and the dim lights and out of the way table afforded them some privacy.
“You weren’t forced to follow me,” Obi-Wan said to him at the end of the second drink, “I’m pretty sure I’m not your General anymore.”
“My General isn’t in the habits to drink instead of doing his job,” Cody bit back, “so, yeah, I’m aware.” And he wasn’t even sorry when he saw Obi-Wan’s grimace.
“I asked Knight Bant,” Cody started, “and she talked to me about some retreat…”
“Are you…is this an intervention?”
“Are you gonna get angrier and impossible to control if I say yes?”
Obi-Wan gesticulated for a third drink.
“Enough,” Cody ordered, exasperated and Obi-Wan’s eyes went round. Cody had sometimes pleaded, quipped and sidestepped orders, but it was the first time he used this tone with his General. He leaned down on the Jedi across the small table:
“If you act like a brat, I’m not above putting you on my knees for a good spanking,” he hissed, at the end of his rope, “Yes, your almost son was manipulated, but it doesn’t give you the right to act like you’re the only one hurt. We will go at the meditation retreat recommended by Knight Bant, you’ll meditate or centre yourself or whatever you need, and I will listen to boring to death Jedi poets, and then we’ll come back and built a better world, including healthy communications with Anakin Skywalker.”
Obi-Wan’s mouth opened a few times, like a fish on dry soil.
“You’ll come with me?” He said finally and Cody had a sudden flash of understanding.
“You big lummox!” He exclaimed, his voice rasping, forgetting in an explosion all about his usual calm and control, “How can you be so smart and so… Have you been a pain in the ass all week because you thought I would abandon you? And you didn’t think to ask?”
Obi-Wan immediately went beet red and Cody’s heart filled with exasperated fondness. Jedi and feelings….He regretted Qui-Gon Jinn wasn’t alive for a discussion: he was sure half of Obi-Wan’s problems with expressing healthy feelings were his faults. He took Obi-Wan’s hand across the table.
“A feral Sith Lord couldn’t take me from you,” he reminded him. Obi-Wan had a small, grateful smile. Cody put a kiss across his knuckles and Obi-Wan went even redder, something which had seemed impossible.
“You’ll come with me?” He asked again.
“I will come with you,” Cody confirmed, “to the end of the world or beyond. Even a week of Jedi’s meditations couldn’t scare me away.” And for the first time in a week, he saw Obi-Wan’ smile, so he couldn’t resist adding:
“And when we are back, I’m taking you on a date.”
The smile turned flirtatious, something like a spark, which had been absent for days, lightening in the blue eyes.
“There you are, Negotiator,” Cody smiled in turn.
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Death of Mandalore
Chapter 14
AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14
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Summary: After murdering Chancellor Palpatine of the Galactic Republic, Vanya Doyvesky joined leagues with both Death Watch and Darth Maul, hoping to reclaim her Mandalorian warrior heritage. But with broken promises and betrayal against Death Watch and Maul’s crime syndicate, the former Mandalorian Jedi had to choose the right path not only for her but for Clan Doyvesky as well.
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Jumping from hyperspace, Obi-Wan flew into the Mandalorian atmosphere, which was barren with no trees or bushes, except for smoke rising from cabins, where people lived away from the city of Sundari. Despite that, however, they weren’t free from their new ruler, who monitored their citizen’s livelihood.
The port on Mandalore, however, was quite the contrary. With ships landing and departing from their respective platforms at the same time, workers on the docks were preoccupied with unloading supplies from outside. There were security guarding the docks, making sure that nothing suspicious happened under their prying eyes.
As the Twilight was about to land on an empty spot, a Mandalorian guard watched as the fins folded upwards, with Obi-Wan controlling the ship from the stuffy cockpit he was forced to endure. Surrounded by smokes and shaky controllers, he braced himself as she landed on the ground smoothly.
He sighed in relief as the lights were cut off, when one of the controllers beside him burst into a small flame, making him jump. “Anakin, that's the last time I borrow a ship from you,” he grumbled as he got off his seat and grabbed his helmet that was worn during his last mission to save the Chancellor.
Walking out with his Rako Hardeen disguise, the ship’s platform opened halfway, causing Obi-Wan to stomp on his foot to force it open. He inspected the condition of the ship, with the oil spilling from the engine and more smoke blowing from the exhaust port. Sometimes I wondered how Anakin took care of his own ship in the first place.
“You better get your ship looked at,” one of the guards came up to him, silently judging.
“Oh, it's my friend's ship,” Obi-Wan answered smoothly as he rested his hands on the handle, only for the platform to drop suddenly, making him stumble. Parts of the ship were peeled off as the nuts and bolts were loosened from its grip, further embarrassing the Jedi Master. “He told me it was perfectly fine. Terribly sorry about that.”
“Do you have a landing permit?” the guard asked, ignoring the crash sound from the Twilight.
“Um, I think I left it in the ship,” he pretended to check on his pockets, before gesturing to him. “Come with me, and I'll get it.”
The guard followed him all the way towards the ship’s common area, only to be knocked out in just one punch. The Moogan traders were startled by the faint sound, before continuing with their business. Obi-Wan emerged with a full set of Mandalorian armour, along with a jetpack and a brand-new helmet. After putting them on, he looked around and headed towards the airspeeder that was parked in front of his ship.
Unbeknownst to him, he was being watched by Bo-Katan Kryze and her renegade soldiers. With a smirk painted on her face, one of her soldiers pulled out their blaster, only to be stopped with her head shaking. Activating the vehicle with a press of a button, Obi-Wan drove into Sundari, without any knowledge of what he was about to walk into.
Meanwhile in the Royal Prison, Satine’s eyes were closed as she pushed herself to focus on peaceful thoughts. Remembering the techniques to calm herself down whenever she was locked inside a cramped space, she breathed in while squishing her thumbs to sedate herself from her fear.
Obi-Wan noticed specks of her shoulder-length blonde hair as he glanced at her from behind, before unlocking her cell. Assuming the disguised guard as either Vanya or Maria, she didn’t bother to turn around. “Here to do more of your master's bidding?”
He took off his helmet and gave a warm smile, announcing his presence. “I do my own bidding.”
“Obi-Wan,” she beamed as she sprung up and wrapped her arms around him, much to his pleasure. Feeling each other’s warmth for a moment, Satine broke off their hug as she searched for both his apprentices behind him. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, the remaining Jedi Council and Republic officers will be no help to us here,” he told her, as he took a peek at the corridors, which were seemingly empty. Taking her hands, he dragged her towards the lift, waiting for the next one to arrive.
“I trust you have an escape plan then?” Satine raised her doubts, as Obi-Wan put on his helmet.
“As always, my dear,” he winked as the lift door slid opened, only to stumble upon Maria Doyvesky, who was waiting for them to enter. Playing along with his part, he shoved the Duchess inside the lift as it closed, heading towards the prison exit.
Peering at Satine and Obi-Wan, she wondered if she ever said anything about transferring prisoners from one block to another, before realising she didn’t. “There's no record of a prisoner transfer here,” she pointed out, not breaking eye contact with the both of them. “Care to explain yourself, soldier?”
“The orders came from upstairs,” he hesitated, looking away from the Chief of Security.
Now why would I give an order from one of my men upstairs on prison transfer? Maria blinked, until she recalled what Katrina told her earlier on in the hallways. “Hey, could I talk to you for a moment?”
“Oh, umm…”
Before she could begin her sentence, Obi-Wan knocked her as the lift opened, leaving her lying on the ground. Blood oozed from her nose as she watched them escape towards their speeder, making her scream in fury. “Get your ass back here, you son of a bitch!” Maria raged as she got up, chasing after them.
Obi-Wan and Satine drove away as the commando guards tailed them all the way to the docks. The others who were patrolling the area saw them heading towards the ship, asking for reinforcement. “It's the duchess,” one of them shouted. “She's getting away.”
Buckling up inside the cockpit, Obi-Wan lifted the ship in the air as Death Watch opened fire towards them. “We have to contact my sister for help,” Satine suggested, holding his hand. “She'll send reinforcements.”
“Who's your sister?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Before he could leave, however, the engines took the worst hit, causing the ship to blow up. “Brace yourself!”
As it twirled in the air, Obi-Wan stood up and rushed out of the cockpit with Satine beside him. “Let's get out of here.”
Within a second, the front part of the Twilight was pulled apart, causing Satine to grip her hands tighter as she found herself hanging for her dear life. “Obi-Wan,” she cried.
With an ear-piercing crash and a huge explosion, Obi-Wan's grasps loosened as they crashed to the ground. The debris of the ship crushed Satine who was underneath it, prompting the Jedi to lift it away with the Force. Her eyes were closed as he tried to reach her, only to hear a familiar footstep.
He took a peek and saw his best friend walking towards him, giving her hands. “It's okay, Obi-Wan,” Vanya reassured him, caressing his cheeks in a gentle manner. “You're safe now.”
Sighing with bliss, he took her hands and gazed at his childhood best friend, with whom he shared a close bond. From sharing a piece of candy with each other to training their Padawans together, Vanya was the only friend he could rely on when it came to his deepest, darkest secret. For a while, her disappearance after the Battle of Coruscant made him stay up all night, wondering whether she was still out here, until today.
“Thank goodness you're here,” he smiled as he rubbed behind his head. “I thought something bad happened to you.”
“I'm alive and well, burc'ya,” Vanya smiled back genuinely. “I was worried about you too. I heard that Dooku really took over Coruscant and destroyed the Jedi Temple.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, sadly. “And he took Eva and Lira too.”
“I know, Obi-Wan,” she pulled him into a hug, frowning. “I miss them too. They were like daughters to me.”
“They were,” the Jedi Master let out a sniffle. “I still have their toys with me. You know, the cowgirl doll, their tooka doll, and a raggedy doll that Padmé gave them.”
“And the hummingbird droid that Lira built from scraps.”
“That too,” he bobbed his head when he saw his lover on the floor, making his jittery. “Goodness me, I almost forgot about the Duchess. We need to get her out of here.”
Vanya sealed her lips together as she watched him carry her in his arms, leaving her beaming for the couple. She remembered him telling all about her, and how they used to kiss before Obi-Wan had to separate from her. She finds their story romantic and yet sad, as she was aware of what's going to happen next.
I hope Maul spared both of them, she thought, as Obi-Wan glanced at her. “Do you happen to have a spare ship around or something? We need to get Satine to safety before Death Watch gets to her.”
“Oh, yeah, we do, actually,” she lied, as she led them to the same speeder they took. “I could lead you to my family’s ship, if you want to.”
He took a seat behind, holding Satine with him. “Thank you, Vanya,” he showed his appreciation. “I knew I could always count on you.”
She could only fake a smile as she felt remorseful for her actions that she is about to undertake against them.
#star wars#star wars ocs#star wars original characters#star wars fics#star wars fanfics#star wars fanfictions#darth maul#pre vizsla#bo katan kryze#obi-wan kenobi#satine#duchess satine#duchess satine kryze#jedi#jedi knight#jedi master#mandalorian#mandalorian jedi#mandalorian ocs#vanya doyvesky#obitine#obi wan x satine#palps is dead
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Enkindled
It began with a pillow. Anakin remembers being in awe of the simple cushion perched at the head of his cot, yes. it was spare and unadorned in a fashion Anakin would come to recognize and associate with the jedi order as he continued his training but slaves didn’t have pillows, pillows were a luxury, slaves weren’t permitted such luxurious indulgences. It had been enough of a shock when informed him that he was to have his own room as they moved through a tour of temple, he had had to fight the urge to tell the wizened Jedi matron Sella Hamne in soft looking cream colored robes that flowed around her stooped form that the need not waste a whole room on a being as insignificant s him She must be very old indeed for she moved so slowly but each of her steps was sure and purposeful, hardly leaning on the cane she grasped in her right hand. On Tatooine a slave such as Anakin would’ve been compelled to offer his arm and support this wise woman on her journey to wherever she was going in Mos Eisley. This upbringing and Anakin’s own earnest desire to be helpful, to make himself useful, almost made him reach out for her shoulder but he thought better of it at the last moment. Her weathered yet kind face spoke of quiet pride and he thought that assuming that she even needed his assistance would insult her. A new, stronger, more confident voice inside that had been growing louder and clearer since he left Tatooine behind him in the sleek vessel that had started his journey to a new, better, life overruled his instinct to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. Things were different now, he was no longer a slave, he would be a jedi!
The room was tiny, barely enough space to house the single cot, footlocker, glow-lamp, small holo-terminal and accompanying chair, that it contained. It was small and plain to the point of being bare but it was his. When the matron’s keen eyes noticed how his own swam with emotion , how overwhelmed he seemed to be she reached out and placed a tender hand on his shoulder, Anakin cowered hunting down to better absorb a blow that would never come. A moment later when he opened his eyes and faced her his face was red and with shame, of course she wouldn’t strike him, he was so stupid! Her face told the tale of gentle understanding married with seemingly infinite sadness. She spoke in a reedy voice infused with warmth and reassurance, “You’ve been through much young Skywalker, I know it will be difficult to adapt, but trust that you are safe here. You are home. The order frowns on attachments but even though we may only be permitted to show it distantly, we care for you.” Anakin’s eyes filled with tears that he was terrified to shed, “Why?” He asked in a small, plaintive voice. She smiled, a great, benevolent smile that reminded him of his mother, “Because…” she said as she leaned down toward him as she was imparting a piece of great wisdom “…compassion is central to a Jedi’s life, we care for each other and for those that we protect, your training will be complete when you are ready to pass compassion onto others.” Anakin blinked, unsure of what to say following such a deep statement. “Now, I hope you will join the others and I for afternoon tea later .” She pulled away slowly and began her laborious return to her office. Murmured that she would leave him to get acquainted with the space. As soon as the door shut behind her Anakin collapsed on to the bed and sobbed, flooding from his eyes to the soft linen as it muffled his sobs. Not only had the jedi given a nobody slave from Tatooine an opportunity to become one of them, but they spared a single thought toward trying to make him comfortable, no one on Tatooine save his mother had ever cared whether he was comfortable and even an amenity as basic as this would have been beyond her ability to provide. It took Anakin what felt like hours being wracked by heartbroken sobs, but was probably only a few minutes to realize that he wasn’t crying from sadness or a loss. He was crying because he know how else to react to such kindness, he had gained something of his very own, a home.
Anakin did not fit in at the temple. He was too different from everyone else his own age, none of them could remember much of life beyond the temple, none of them carried the baggage of a lifetime lived in slavery, they did not flinch away from simple touches, or devour their food as though it might be snatched away from them without warning at any moment, they did not startle at loud noises, they were not constantly in fear of making too much noise or running too quickly, their eyes did not swim with tears in the face of even the most gentle reprimand. They were not consumed with an obsequious need to please, nor a yearning for approval, they didn’t feel driven to excel, to be perfect, merely to prove themselves worth of the opportunity to be here. No, Anakin was not like them, he was…far too much his damaged, desperate self for that.
Anakin missed his mother and struggled to make friends so he would hug the pillow to his small frame in the middle of the night as he wept from loneliness, occasionally he would think out loud to it as if it were 3PO. When he arrived at the temple that pillow was his only source of comfort, of reassurance to assuage his unvoiced but ever present doubts as to whether he truly belonged at the temple, an anchor he could reach for when he was cast adrift wondering whether he had even a fraction of the potential the other younglings did. Occasionally, he would think of the pillow like 3PO and think out loud to it. It was a silent witness to moments of weakness that he dare not display in front of anyone else, least of all Obi-Wan. The pillow become his closest confidant, it was not until years later that it became the sole sentinel of secrets of much more salacious variety.
Anakin eventually grew more secure, more sure of his place in the temple as he grew older simply because he surpassed all the other learners in his age group at every task he was given. Students with many more years of experience struggled to lift three small stones, Anakin caused a dozen rise into the air. His classmates and struggle to use their training sabers to block blaster fire while blinded, Anakin had dueled a quartet of his classmates unable to see, they were unimpeded…he won. By the time he was 18 it was universally acknowledged by all but his most ardent detractors that Anakin was a prodigy. He was allowed to join an advanced course on saber combat taught by slightly older students with a similar level of talent to Anakin. That was where the trouble began. Anakin hurried to one of the smaller training rooms careful to arrive at least a few minutes early but not too many as he was worried about seeming overeager.
A strong voice that emanated from behind him commanded him to strip his underclothes. Anakin froze but only momentarily before methodically removing the tunic and leggings of his standard Jedi garb. Leena Dara was the advanced light saber combat instructor. She had an amused look on her face, as without waiting for an introduction she tossed Anakin a training saber. He had been so distracted by her beauty that he’d nearly fumbled the catch. She was tall, with a lithe muscular build. She had dark skin, eyes nearly as dark and luxurious looking hair pulled into a tight knot atop her head. Her attire made it even more difficult to focus as she wore only a sports bra and training shorts ritual tattoos crisscrossed her belly and ran the length of both her arms and legs. She said nothing, ignited her azure blade and sprang at him. Anakin barely had time to raise his own weapon before he was being pushed back across the training mats by a flurry of blows he could barely follow with his eyes, let alone counter. Anakin instinctively retreated waiting for a pause in her assault so that he could counter attack but none came, she continued advancing, or blade only stopping for the briefest of moments each time it connected with his own before she drew it back and began to batter his defenses from another angle. Since he arrived at the temple Anakin had always been of the mind that the best defense was a good offense, after enduring several irritating bouts of strikes, Anakin lashed out, aiming his training saber at her left side. She… flowed around his attack like water executing a flawless pirouette, Atticus attack connected only with empty air, he’d expected resistance not a dodge the force he put behind the blow left him overbalanced and before he could regain his footing Leena came out of her spin only to deliver a sharp kick to his midsection that sent him sprawling, Anakin’s instinct was to immediately roll to his feet and some in his blade with the force but in the pair seconds it took him to formulate that plan Leena darted forward and held her blade poised at his throat. Anakin was burning with shame and humiliation, their contest had lasted barely longer than a minute, Leena would report this to the Masters and they would see that he was no prodigy, he would be put back in his age group running through mindless practice drills that he’d mastered years ago and he deserve it for his failure. She smiled, white teeth gleaming, “You did well Anakin. All of the other basic students I fought lasted half as long as you did. I think I have an idea of where we will begin, but that was all for today. You are dismissed, get dressed.” With that she deactivated her blade and strode from the room without looking back.
Anakin lay on the floor for a moment attempting to process what just happened to him when he felt a strange twinge in his body. It was as though he was beginning to overheat, electricity seem to dance on his skin and there was a stirring in his groin. Embarrassed all over again ,Anakin shot to his feet, dressed quickly, and hurried to his quarters. Experiencing physical arousal was not completely foreign to young Jedi but such feelings were a path to the dark side, well before puberty learners were taught meditation techniques to separate themselves from these base instincts of their bodies. Many never seemed to feel even the slightest twinge of arousal, Anakin thought that maybe it had something to do with rituals that were performed when they were brought to the temple as babies, another facet of temple life that he had missed out on and one that would’ve taken care of his present situation. Anakin sat crossed legged on the floor his back against his sleeping cot, focusing on taking deep, meaningful breaths pushing away emotion in favor of peace, the chaos of his body in favor of serenity. Only his mind was far from serene. His breathing patterns were interrupted every few seconds as he flashed back to his duel with Leena. How she had looked, the ferocity of her attacks, and the quiet complement that had dulled the keen edges of the shame of his defeat. His resistance shattered and he was immediately overcome by heat.
He rieses on shaky legs stripped with detached ease and threw himself back on the bed. He felt as though he was running the most intense fever as if Tatooine’s twin suns were burning him from the inside out. Anakin made a dizzy attempt to reach for the blanket, to cover his indecent, rebellious, naked form, to simply sleep off whatever insidious infection had a hold of him. As he reached down the pads of his fingers brushed along the fine hair of his legs and he let out an involuntary whimper. For just a moment the heat had receded. Anakin knew what masturbation was of course, the archives contained treatise on the physiology of every species the order had encountered throughout its millennia long history and included was information on reproductive cycles. There were anthropological studies documenting cultures which worshiped sexual pleasure, yes Anakin had a theoretical knowledge of what he had started to do but no practical experience. Driven solely by instinct, as with every challenge he’d ever met Anakin eagerly rushed forward. He started low, rubbing the sole of one foot against another while one hand ran lazily up his leg, he runs his hand through his pubic hair enjoying the prickle of sensation that came with it. He struggled to swallow a moan. He lays the lightest of touches against his cock which was already leaking pre-cum onto his abs, forming a small pool in his navel. He gives a few lazy strokes of his shaft, the heat reaches the boiling point As the pads of his fingers run just under the head of his cock his body tenses and he comes with a small shout cum flowing from his twitching cock, Anakin struggles to catch his breath and watches mesmerized as his muscles clench and release, clench and release and for one beautiful moment he’s free of the fire.
It returns with a vengeance before you can even begin to contemplate the shame of what he’s done and how he’s going to clean this mess he feels himself harden again, never having gone completely soft. Anakin’s eyelashes flutter as hand reaches down of its own accord and begins to toy with his balls, he has no conscious idea of what he’s doing, no strategy, but his body seems to know itself. He elicits whimpers from his own mouth as he pinches and pulls at the sensitive skin there stroking the shaft in time with his movements. Each gentle tug at the sensitive skin sends of ripple of pleasure up his body in his room is filled with the sounds of low quiet groans. He starts flicking his wrist at each pull up his shaft, the change in feel has him chattering and gasping. With one particularly strong pull at his balls Anakin is coming again, much more intensely than the first time. His breathing is overtaken in a series of gasps and groans. Still the flame does not abate, his belly is covered with his own seed and still is bodies unsatisfied.
He runs an unsteady hand from his cock up to his chest luxuriating in the feel of his come against his sensitive fingers. He reaches his right nipple and nearly cries with pleasure. He forces his mouth shut and grits teeth as he begins twisting and pulling at both nipples, it feels as though he’s being electrocuted from the inside, he feels the ghosts of the sensations in his nipples floated his caulk his legs crossed and uncrossed themselves his thighs clench and release his abdomen tightens and relaxes in time with his ministrations. He pulls and pinches in his nipples feeling as though he’s been drugged by some heady aphrodisiac, he teases the sensitive knobs of flesh with his fingers until they’re both rock hard, he has a sudden idea and pinches and twists both of them in unison. Lightning strikes his body as he is dragged through another orgasm teeth clenched and pleasure bordering on pain as his caulk produces yet more come, this time completely untouched. Anakin has but a moment of peace before the fire is scorching at him again. He’s confused, from what he knows of this process one orgasm should have been more than enough to relieve him, two excessive, three absolute overkill.
Yet as he glances down at himself he sees his cock still standing straight up, covered in a tantalizing mixture of pre-come and cum. He reached down and began stroking himself again, but it was though the fire were telling him that it would not be satisfied with more of the same. He swipes his fingers down his shaft and as if in a trance brings them to his mouth, tasting himself. The feel makes Anakin’s hips buck of their own accord and he sucks greedily at his own fingers. He goes down for another helping, exchanging spit and cum with himself. He latches onto his fingers as he rubs his cock with the palm of his hand, resting in between a few of his fingers squeezing lightly. His own taste and the new sensation of pressure on his cock forces a moan out of him that becomes a whimper when he remembers where he is and bites his tongue harshly enough that he tastes blood mixed with his seed. The taste makes him come.
Anakin is barely conscious for a moment but the fire is taken on new strength as if demanding one final tribute before it will release him from its infernal hold. Anakin is a loss, he doesn’t do what more he can do to appease the flame inside of him. He’s burning though, the desire to come again has become painful he whimpers and tears trickled from his eyes, in desperation he reaches back and his trembling hands find his pillow. In a flash he knows what he has to do, he flips over places the pillow underneath him and begins to rub himself against it. The novel texture makes him shudder as goosebumps breakout up and down his body, the only sounds he can make are stuttering gasps as he works the pillow against him luxuriating in the friction. This gentle, exploratory pace will not satisfy the flame. He thrust his hips hard against the pillow, nearly screaming at the feel of it as it gives way and sinks to surround his cock with each thrust. Anakin is dizzy now his hips moving at a frantic pace as he chases the final high, all throughout his body’s muscles tighten he feels it in his chest, his legs, his feet, his ass. His skin feels as though it has a life of its own, like tiny pinpricks of lightning dancing on his nerve endings, a chorus warming up to sing a final triumphant falsetto note. Sweat pours from him and the feel of it running down his back is divine. With a scream he reaches his final climax as his hips pound the pillow. Objects all over his room crash to the floor as he lets out an involuntary wave of force power. Tears stream down his face. He loses control of his body, muscles seizing and he can’t hold himself up. Euphoria floods his system, at first coming from everywhere and then intensifying at the epicenter of his caulk as it pours wave after wave of cum onto the pillow, he twitches, and writhes and pants. Desperation making him chase the hi little bit longer. He looks down at the pillow as his cock continues to drench it in a deluge of cum, he looks down at the wrong moment however as with one final shot his cock shoots his cum onto his face, his brows, his cheeks, his lips, his neck, his chest, and finally down forming a great pool in the valley of his stomach. Anakin finally has something to chase the noise out of his head: pleasure.
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As The World Caves In part 4
Cody; It’s been and honor... Sir...
The alcohol stung the back of Cody's raw throat. From screaming his pain away. Screaming at you because you didn't understand how much Rex had meant to him. He sat there, drinking, smoking, doing anything other than thinking about his dead batcher, and failing. Smoke rolled off his lips like the thunder that threatened rain off in the distance of his office. Of course, he was destroyed over Rex's death. He and Rex had practically adopted you when they met you. Not taking your hurt into account he selfishly, drunkenly, took his out on you like some abusive father. But never laying a hand on you. He fumbled with the medallion you'd gifted him after his promotion to Commander.
"What's that Ad'ika?" The commander said, scooping you up from where you stood. Only a little girl at the time. Maybe Ahsoka's age. Maybe younger. Giggling and squirming in his arms you tried to hide the present.
"Nothing Kote. Just uuuh, a thing." You lied wonderfully. Cody smiled brightly as Rex jogged up the hill to where they stood. His riduur looking like he'd just run the mile four times.
"Force you're a fast little shit, you know that right?" Rex panted as you buried your face into Cody's chest plate, smiling like the it was Life day and you just got the best present. "FYI they'll leave you in their dust Codes." Cody laughed, throaty, deep, and beautiful. It always made you feel better hearing that man's laugh. Rex moved forward resting his hand on your shoulder as he kissed Cody's cheek. "How's my Marshal Commander?" The captain cooed lightly. Cody smiled brightly.
"I'm better than I'll ever be with you two." Gods wasn't that the truth~
The height wasn't too far up from where he stood. Maybe 50 meters up. The whiskey burned sliding down his throat again. Thinking of you. Thinking of everything you gave him and Rex. It hurt to do this to you, but he couldn't take living with his husband. Afterall the war was ending and now clones would be needed after the fact. It was entirely selfish to believe that he might save you from more hurt by jumping now, when Obi-wan his best friend and your master was to be coming around tomorrow morning with reports. He'd most likely have you with him. Another chug of the whiskey made his groan. If it wasn't jumping that'd kill him, it'd be the alcohol poisoning.
"Cody? Do you like being a clone?" You asked one evening while nestled between an exhausted Rex and Cody. The latter being fast asleep while he held you close to him. Cody looked away from his datapad with a thoughtful look.
"What do you mean by that Ad?" He asked, combing his hand through your hair. You leaned into his touch looking down slightly, away from his eyes. "Do I like being a clone, as in do I enjoy being a soldier?" You nod slowly. "Well of course I like being a clone. Hell if I wasn't I would have you or Rex or Obi-wan. Yes I hate watching my Vod leave me, but it's a natural thing, and we we're all born to die. Clone or not." He admitted, leaning his cheek on your head. "How could I not love being a clone when I have everything and more right now."
You smile feeling him kiss your forehead. Your eyes growing heavy with each passing second. "I love you dad." You slurred already half asleep, unaware of what you just said to him. Cody blinked for a moment before answering.
"I love you more than anything Ad'ika."
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart."
His com chirped with another message from you. Surely you were petrified thinking this was all your fault. It hurt Cody to think about it. But you are a strong kid, you'll move on. Eventually at least. He was afraid of hurting you any further. He was afraid of you hating him for what he was deciding to pull. Rex would kick his ass into next week if he caught him doing this. Even as a kriffing ghost he might shove his foot up his ass. The thought drew out a small laugh from Cody thinking about how funny Rex was.
They were pinned down by droids. All sides as you sat there trying to come up with a plan. Anakin sitting with you spewing out idea with Ahsoka. When Rex spoke up. "Hey, Let's do get help." He grinned at Cody.
"What?"
"Get help." Rex repeated smiling more. Cody frowned.
"No~" Cody breathed, thinking about what happened when they did it last time.
"Come on you love it." Rex chuckled. Cody looked at the ground trying not to meet anyone's gaze. Because Get help was not something you did in front of your general's.
"I hate it."
"It's great, It works every time."
"it's humiliating."
"Do you have a better idea?" Rex asked, knowing fully that he'd won. Cody sighed in defeat.
"No." He admitted. Rex smiles.
"We're doing it." The captain smiled.
"We are not doing Get help." Cody affirmed one last time. At least trying to sound like he wasn't going to anyway.
~
The doors hiss open as Cody hung onto Rex's shoulder. Rex acting panicked he held onto Cody's arm. "GET HELP! PLEASE! MY BROTHER IS DYING!" Cody rolled his eyes internally as he played dead. Stumbling along with Rex's steps. The battle droids all confused by what was going on. "Get Help! Help Him!!" Rex yelled as he threw Cody at the line of droids. Bowling them over as Rex pulling out his twin DCS add mowed down the rest around Cody who laid on top of the pile of droids he was just thrown at. You and the rest of the men enter the room. You ran over to Cody asking if he was okay frantically. Rex chuckles putting his blasters away. "Oh he's just pouting because I threw him like a bowling bowl." Cody grumbles a death threat as he gets up. Rex laughs. "Oh hush, you could never kill me. I'll kill you first Cyar'ika."
Cody choked on a broken sob as the last of the memory echoed in his mind, "I'll kill you first Cyar'ika." the whiskey tasted like veno on his tongue. his com chirping with panicked messages from you now. Maybe others. He could hear Obi-wan's ring playing along with yours. He must be worried now. All he wanted was to lay down and die in peace, but he couldn't do that with you panicking and worrying about him. It sounded horrible, but what world is there to live in when he's lost what he loves must. Along with hurting you.
"Go Away!" He yelled throwing his empty whiskey bottle at the com. Instead of shutting it up, it hit the call button. Great, just what he needs right now. Human interaction.
"Commander?" A familiar voice said over the com. They sounded half asleep whoever they were. "Commander are you alright?" He said sounding an awful lot like Kix. Oh not good. Kix was a kriffing bloodhound when sniffing out hurt vod. Especially emotionally hurt one. "Cody, you there vod? Are you ok?" Sounding fully awake now the clone could be heard moving around, with another asking what was going on in the background, possibly being woken up by the movement and talking. "Cody?" Cody wasn't there, physically maybe but not mentally or emotionally. He didn't want to ask for help, though he knew he deeply needed it. He wasn't that kind of person to ask another for comfort. He'd always had Rex to just give it to him when he noticed the signs. He could tell Kix was getting worried now. "Cody are you there, is everything okay? Are you hurt?" Hurt is metaphorical. Pain is rhetorical. and self loathing is literal. So which was it?
"Can you tell them I'm sorry... I didn't mean to take it out on them. They never deserved my anger. Please tell them I'm sorry." Kix knew what was going on now. Quickly he could be heard jumped out of his bunk and his feet hitting the floor hard.
"Cody stay on the line. Just keep talking to me." Kix spoke in his medic voice, sweet like sugar followed with a great sabbac face. He knew Kix was panicking now. He didn't have far to run, they were all in the same barracks. But the offices where high over them. "Cody you there Vod?"
"Kix, it's okay I'm fine." He lied, looking over the railing of the small balcony that every office had. Officers offices also had a living quarters if they hose to stay there, which Cody had since he and Rex wanted a private place for themselves.
"Where are you right now." Kix breathed hard, he must be running. "Cody keep talking to me, tell me whats going on."
"I miss him... So much..."
"I know, I know you miss him. But It's going to be okay listen to me. I promise it's going to be okay." Kix was in the lift now, he could hear the doors closing. But the pocket knife was already in his hand. He didn't want to be saved. But he also didn't want to hurt anymore.
"Kix tell them that they mean the world to me. And that I'm sorry." Cody choked out at the blade touched his underarm. The thin layer of skin protecting his veins and artery being pressed in. He could feel Kix's panic now. He knew he was scaring the poor medic, but this needed to be said. "I don't want them to know what I did so I want you to tell them I went in my sleep." The blood started to bead up now, pressing harder the blade cut deeper into his wrist. It didn't hurt much since he wasn't sober or in his right mind at all.
"Cody listen to yourself vod, do you hear what your saying?" But Cody didn't care what he heard. He knew Kix well, and also knew he wouldn't stop trying to save a goner until they died in his embrace. A small whimper escaped Cody. "Cody I'm in your corridor. You better be there when I bust down your door."
"Or what." He dare challenge the medic now. Blood dripping continuously from his wrist, deep slices bleeding heavily. he'd felt the pinch when he cut to deep, he knew he wasn't going to survive this. "Are you going to decommission me?"
"I sure your trying to decommission yourself as we speak, but no, I'm going to help you." The lock on his door unlocked as Kix keyed in his code. "It's going to be alright Cody."
"Nothing's going to anything sooner or later Kix."
"Don't give up on me."
"I give up a long time ago, I just had my husband to keep me from offing myself." He growled through welling tears, he hated crying. It pissed him off. But only when he was one doing it.
"Is that it, was that all Rex was to you?" Kix yelled now as the door hissed open. He then saw the mess the office was, holes in the walls from punching them, empty bottles of liquor everywhere, and Cody sitting on the balcony stabbing his arms as his mask cracked entirely. Kix ran towards him, realising his med kit wouldn't help this at all. "Cody no, stop, now!" He shouted grabbed the Commander by his untouched wrist and twisting in sharply to make him drop the pocket knife. A broken sob exited the commander's mouth as the knife fell to the ground. Landing in the messy pool of Cody's blood. "No, You di'kut!" Cody felt very light headed. Dizzy too.
"I told you I'm sorry. Please don't be mad with me." He sobbed, Kix cupped his cheeks holding him up when his legs gave out.
"No vod, no I'm not mad at you. You okay, your going to be okay." He chanted as he dead gifted Cody off the ground. He'd never seen Cody this broken before. It hurt him.
All of Cody's words became gibberish soon after that, just holding onto Kix as he carried him to the med bay. He felt so pathetic as brothers from his battalion and the 501st stared in shock. Watching the as his blood left a trail on the white permacrete. They knew a goner when they saw one.
Cody watched the brothers as he passed by, his eyes becoming very heavy suddenly as Kix chanted stay with me closer to his ear. He could only imagine it being Rex's voice. Maybe that'd help to stay. Why did he want to say though? Why was he listening again?
He could see the white walls of the medbay now. Sick brothers watching as the commander is carried by their medic, his blood staining the white tile as they passed by. Kix's talking became hard to hear the closer they got to where ever they were going. All Cody thought about was You and Rex.
Rex laid with you in his arms, you slept peacefully as both of them watched the night shift in morning. Dreaming about the stars and what they meant.
Cody was laying on a cot now, and you were next to him. Why were you there? When did you get there? Words seemed to jumble up inside his head. Breathing became harder as he heard you say his name.
"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound. The save a wretch like me." They sang as the shots fired for him. He watched as they folded his flag. The Coruscant emblem with the GAR emblem in the right corner. Cody held you close as you sang. Rex had always loved it when you sang. He must love it now, Cody thought as a sneaky tear rolled sown his cheek. Gods he must be laughing right now, watching grown men cry over him. Hell he must be having a blast. It made Cody smile thinking about it.
He smiled as a tear dripped down his cheek. Holding your hand in his good one the words suddenly starting to make sense. "I'm so sorry for what I did, I didn't meant to make you mad. Please Cody don't you leave me too. I'm afraid of being alone." You sobbed holding his hand.
"But you're not alone, yeah I may be leaving you. But my caring will always stay for you, as will so many others. I should yelled at you. It wasn't your fault, never had been. I was just so mad. I'm sure you could understand." He whispers to you. "Be to honest, I'm scared to be alone too."
"Then why leave me?" You sob.
“When someone leaves your life, those exits are not made equal. Some are beautiful and poetic and satisfying. Others are abrupt and unfair. But most are just unremarkable, unintentional, clumsy.” He breathes out, feeling his eyes grow heavy. "But as long as you remember them, you'll never be alone." His smile was bright as he cupped your cheek softly. You leaned into his touch. "I was an honor... Sir..." He slurred as he finally let go.
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