#and cough cough codywan cough cough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkformyblood · 2 months

Text

speak truth into reality (Codywan Week24)

Day 01 Truth Serum/Spell - Obi-Wan doesn’t lie @codywanweek

Canon Compliant, optional Post-O66 section at end. Heavy pining with a palm kiss~

“Smells weird,” one of the newer cadets remarks — newer than Cody himself which isn’t by much all things factored in — and Cody gives him the good grace of ignoring him. Second thing he’d learnt in the Command track, compartmentalisation, and he’s gunning for gold, full marks, maybe even prizing a good job out of Alpha-17’s grasp on his way past.

Won’t make up for the fact he’s failing at step one.

“We ran into a spot of trouble on our last mission,” Kenobi answers, a smile as wide as a sunrise plastered on his face and just as fake as a politician’s promise. It’s for the benefit of the camera crew reluctantly tucked into one corner, the expression beginning to twitch into something closer to bared teeth, something violent, before Kenobi composes himself and continues. “Due to the rapid escalation of the war, quick repairs were necessary, hence the smell. I find the cheaper material does tend to linger.”

He turns his gaze towards the camera operator, and the camera by benefit of association. Cody tracks the movement, his bucket firmly in place, the perfect picture of professionalism at Kenobi’s side, and he dips into the holonet with a blink. There is a dizzying moment of confusion, the reverberation that the person dressed in his armour standing at Kenobi’s side isn’t him, couldn’t be him, carving a fresh bloody swathe through Cody’s thoughts, and it passes before it can squirm, weak-limbed and wet from the tube, into something more. He can see what the camera sees, what the holonet is bearing witness to right at this exact moment, and he knows the universe is twisting itself into a fresh shape because of it. It has to be. He can’t look at Kenobi as he is now and not come away changed.

Cody knows his General is beautiful. He’d been warned about it, in fact, three stacks of flimsiwork to sign in confirmation of receipt even before Alpha-17 attempted to scrub it into his head, the disjointed flat of his knuckles grinding against Cody’s skull as he repeated the first rule of Command again and again and again. He must have had an inkling, some latent Force-sensitive DNA spasming into life for that moment and that moment only, because he knew that Kenobi would be the ruin of Cody.

He loves him. With everything he has and everything he is and everything that he will be.

Kenobi smiles, his eyes flat and his teeth bared just within the confines of manners. “I just find it to be such a shame that the Senate doesn’t seem to prioritise the men fighting to keep them safe. That is why this was agreed on.”

The host looks to be barely out of her vat with how fragile she seems, her cheeks blooming a deeper shade of blue as she stares at Kenobi. Her throat bobs silently for a moment, the sharp pale edge of her teeth visible behind the swell of her lower lip. It is only when Kenobi straightens, his grin smoothing into something gentler, that she relaxes, her shoulders rising and falling noticeably as she composes herself. It’s a good show, enough to compel a few of the troopers into sharp professionalism as their fingers dance over the controls of the ships without looking down, conducting the engines into a low thrum of promised violence that would propel them into atmo with barely a ripple in the General’s tea. Beautiful in it’s own way and tragically unappreciated.

Behind the camera, the young man coughs once, a pale violet blush lying heavily over the soft swell of his nose and the host steps forward just enough to break the camera’s view of Cody. He doesn’t relax, not with a noose he’s tied himself around his neck, his choice to love Obi-Wan and to continue to do so, his choice to mark his understanding on Alpha-17’s piles of flimsiwork and proceed forward with his decision all the same. The camera is a regrettable necessary evil, a way of carving some understanding into the holonet’s collective conscious and they have chosen as their instrument of destruction, General Kenobi, his robe long since discarded on the back of a chair when the discussion of life on a ship had first been brought up, and his teeth safely tucked away as the conversation teeters on a knife edge once more.

“Yes, General Kenobi,” the host begins once more. Her voice is musical, pleasant enough to listen to, although Cody thinks it would begin to crack under a barrage, not enough pieces to be glued back together when there’s blood in the lines of her palms. “Thank you for mentioning that point as it brings us rather neatly into our next talking point. In the Senate, and the holonet at large, there is a rather interesting rumour circulating about you.”

Obi-Wan’s smile turns brittle and Cody’s hand doesn’t twitch towards his blaster. He has too much self-control to do anything quite as obvious and he is a Clone Commander. There’s several troopers with their hands on their blasters under his command, his authority, and at least one trooper with a wickedly sharp knife that Cody officially knows nothing about, no flimiswork filed and no denials holstered.

He’ll take just as much glory from this host’s death from another’s hand as he will his own. If it’s necessary. If it is needed.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan reaches back for his tea and Cody is already holding it out for him to take. The heat from the mug bleeds through his gloves, worn thin and stitched back together twice with thread whose colour didn’t matter. It would darken with ash and grime quickly enough and they didn’t have the resources available to be selective. Obi-Wan takes the mug, the tips of his fingers skimming against Cody’s in a gesture that would bleed professionalism if it could and yet meant so much more than that. He takes a sip, his next breath fogging in the air before he speaks. “Do enlighten me as to what that could be.”

Another blink for the holonet and Cody skims over the most recent comments, careful to keep his gaze averted from the devastation of Obi-Wan’s grin, the fragile porcelain of his countenance. His own name appears more times than he had expected, a handful of little pictures of fire and water droplets in some sort of code that had respondents queuing up in agreement, but that isn’t important. There are more commenters on Obi-Wan’s side than against from his brief surveillance, but the majority are locked onto what the rumour could be.

The minority insisting that they are about to get confirmation on the theory that Obi-Wan is dating Senator Amidala from Naboo are being resoundly shot down. Cody snaps a picture and flicks it through the coms channels to Fox before the host clears her throat once more.

Cody knows the thought flickering across Obi-Wan’s mind before it has even breached the surface, lining up the orders to make sure it would be a precision strike if needed.

“Yes, we and our viewers on the holonet would love to know—” She leans forward like she is sharing some conspiracy, her face tilted towards the camera to wink one glittering eye before she continues. “—is it true that you don’t lie?”

“That?” Obi-Wan sips at his tea once more, another puff of visible breath rolling across the surface before it vanishes. The faintest hint of florals works through the filters in Cody’s helmet, cut with enough sugar to send a shiny to medical. Apparently, it was a necessity for that blend. Obi-Wan places the cup back onto the table, his mouth drawn into a thin line in the brief moment of respite from his starving watchers, and he smiles as he turns back around. Tucking his hands into his sleeves, he straightens up to his full height, tipping his head to one side. “I wouldn’t have thought it would be a hotly discussed topic in the Senate of all places.”

One of the troopers dissolves into a coughing fit that sounds suspiciously like the clone’s bastardised Mando’a words for ‘because it is a rarity there’. Obi-Wan glances over, worry etched into the crease of his brow, the downturned corners of his mouth, and Cody leans back the inch or so he needs to get an eyeline on the coughing trooper.

It is a truly miraculous recovery.

“Your name is mentioned more often than you would think, General!” This is safer ground for the host, her shoulders relaxing by noticeable degrees, her stance widening as she tips into her hip.

One of the troopers misses his seat, a fine example of several thousand credits worth of training, not to mention the millions that went into the exact sequencing of his DNA, and he catches himself on the edge of the console before making a second attempt. His batchmate standing next to him helps, his shoulders held tight to contain his laughter. Cody is going to murder them both and mount their helmets on the wall.

The host doesn’t even notice. She continues, her hands splayed wide, open, inviting. “So, could you confirm for us?”

She bats her eyes, long lashes dark against the paler hue of her cheek, the smudge of colour on her lids. Cody wasn’t decanted yesterday, he sat through every module he needed to and the again for the supplemental material tacked onto the end after a handful of cycles with the Jedi. He’s not unfamiliar with people flirting with General Kenobi, already bloodied in that particular conflict in the moments after meeting the man, but this tastes different, feels different.

It’s almost a reflex, the final death throes of an insect after it threw itself into the candle flame. A dance that she has moved through the positions enough times that her body moves on instinct, sending her step by step closer to an abyss she doesn’t wish to stare into. This particular outreach team had been assigned to them, the orders skidding across Cody’s desk and marked with Fox’s heavy-handed subtlety, and he’s plotting something. Always is.

Never forgiven Cody for being lifted out of their tube three minutes before him.

Cody doesn’t jolt back into the present moment, he is simply there, like he always is. At Obi-Wan’s side.

“I don’t lie, my dear.” Obi-Wan croons the endearment like he wields his saber, all flash with one hand to hide the blade he holds in the other. He slips his hands from his sleeves once more, a few scattered marks across his fingers from the leather bands he wears, and inclines his head towards the door. “I believe, along with this full expose, you were promised a tour of the ship. I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t uphold my side of things.”

There’s a twittering of pleasantries Cody doesn’t bother to remember, letting the noise wash over him, waiting for his orders. He picks up Obi-Wan’s tea, one hand flat beneath the base, the other cupping the side, and follows them. He’s a few steps behind, just outside of the gaze of the camera, so there is a moment of respite.

He doesn’t take it.

It wouldn’t be fair, wouldn’t be right, for Cody to be off duty when Obi-Wan is still having to play the part made for him. When the Kaminoans threaded his DNA together, some pieces must have been lost, drifting off into the filters of his tube or burrowing into Fox next to him, because Cody cannot stop. He just is, fiercely and entirely.

“The ship is a self-contained living and combat space.” Obi-Wan speaks easily, each word clearly defined and Cody is reminded of the mechanical voices on the training modules. “Comfortably, we can house nearly one thousand two hundred men on board. Currently, we are housing two thousand.”

The host’s steps slow, not enough that she would crash into the waiting eye of the camera held just behind her, but, in comparison to Obi-Wan’s easy stride, her shock is a scream. Cody doesn’t pause with her, maintaining his distance from Obi-Wan, and he draws level with her. Through the film of his visor, Cody can make out the tight press of her mouth, the sheen of her eyes as they dart up his helmet and then lower to the cup Cody still holds carefully tucked into his chest. Her expression shifts into something Cody can’t name but is wary of all the same, a blade pressing against the line of his ribs and he isn’t sure if it’s meant as a boon or a threat.

Cody looks to Obi-Wan.

A single nod and Cody settles back into familiar lines, head raised, back straight.

“Does that not prove a problem for resources?” The host asks. She colours a pale shade of blue, straying from her given list of questions, and Cody knows why Fox chose her to match with Obi-Wan and himself. Curiosity is a drug that devours itself, driving them onwards ever further, and he sees the bite of it layered over her shoulders.

Obi-Wan inclines his head to one side in acknowledgement. “Somewhat. We try to mitigate it as best we can but some situations are unavoidable. If you would follow me down here?”

The corridor isn’t one of the better ones on the ship, it noticeably buckles on one side, forcing them into single file about halfway down. It hadn’t been a secret Separtist weapon like the scrolling feed in the corner of Cody’s vision speculates, or the scar from some space battle, just flimsy materials buckling beneath a little bit of wear and tear. It’s a chilling thought, one Cody doesn’t care to linger on for longer than absolutely necessary, the idea that the ship he is forced to entrust his existence to, the lives of his men to, could come apart in an instant for no other reason than to make a politician’s bottom line fatter.

They wouldn’t be saved if that happened.

No. Cody adjusts the thought in the same instant. Obi-Wan would save them, no orders needed. He would hold together the decaying carcass of their supposed salvation for as long as he could for the sake of just one more life saved.

Cody falls back behind the camera on Obi-Wan’s silent instructions, letting the pair move ahead behind his General. Like this, he can see through the camera’s lens, the General’s back clear above the slighter frame of the host, their shadows stretching out ahead them, stark in the artificial light. There is a slight haze around Obi-Wan, not dissimilar to the way the horizon trembles beneath heat, a window into the impulses of the universe for a moment, and Cody’s breath catches in his throat, faintly floral with the tang of ozone.

“If you could pause a moment?” Obi-Wan asks in a tone that expects to be obeyed instantly, still mild and pleasant but steel running beneath it. Cody halts instantly, the sudden absence of his bootsteps echoing loudly, and he can make out the hurried sounds of movement in the room beyond through the vent above his head before Obi-Wan knocks on the door.

It opens to a trooper still in his blacks like Cody had instructed him to be. There should be two others behind him, similarly deliberately dressed down, a couple hands on cards scattered on the table in front of them. It might just be set dressing, a scream through gritted teeth for the humanity the leash is slowly choking from them, but it could be an opening. Obi-Wan may have played this game longer than Cody has, but he’s got a few tricks up his sleeve at least.

“Ah, Remy. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

“Not at all, General.”

There’s another volley of comments filtering through Cody’s bucket, some of them entirely little pictures of fire. He doesn’t know what that means.

“I was hoping to show our guests around a standard bunk-room,” Obi-Wan continues. His hands are folded in front of him, his thumbs resting against the delicate network of veins in his wrist and Cody knows, from furiously guarded experience, that his heartbeat will be as even as his voice, each pulse measured and exact, working towards the same goal.

Remy nods once, burnished professionalism instead of the deep-rooted network woven through Cody’s veins, but it’s a start. He’d polish up to be a fine trooper, not quite Command track but Squad Leader maybe. If he survives long enough. “Of course, sir.”

“If you’d follow me?” Obi-Wan sweeps into the room without waiting for an answer and the pair, boxed in unknowingly by a Jedi and his Commander, do as he instructs.

The camera swings wide first, devouring the regulation unpainted walls in the same grey shade as the rest of the ship, nothing to distinguish this as a room intended for sleeping except the rows of bunks spaced out from one wall to another, repeating across the room. Two of the bunks are occupied, the troopers doing a passable job of faking sleep. Their eyes gleam from behind mostly closed lids, a matched set of predators observing prey scurrying by. One trooper has even stripped to the waist, the blanket bunched around his hip, and his chest rises and falls in a mimicry of the rolling breath of dreams. Another volley of flames springs across Cody’s vision, but it isn’t enough to distract him from the slight tint to Obi-Wan’s cheeks as he turns to face them once more.

In the centre of the room, two of the bunks had been removed, shoved into the aisles instead to allow space for a couple of storage crates fastened together and then bolted to the floor. Remy has returned to his careful perch on the floor, resting high on his knees as he surveys the hand of discarded cards on the table, picking them back up one by one. Stacked neatly, two other hands sit waiting at his left, and the surface is cluttered with coordinated sets of a sabbac game in full-throttle, spent blaster refills serving the place of chips.

“If I may,” the host begins, glancing first at Obi-Wan who inclines his head towards the trooper. “What is this you’re doing?”

“Playing sabbac, ma’am.”

Cody, unseen by the camera, raises his hand to his bucket, first and second finger splayed wide and the rest curled into his palm. He taps his fingers against his temple before moving them outwards, the same battle sign they would use for an advance. It might not be the battlefield he’s used to but he trusts his men. He trusts Obi-Wan.

“I’m playing three hands at a time, using the blaster refills for tokens, and trying to refine my play style.” Remy grins up at her, wide enough that the ring pierced through his tongue could be seen for an instant as he continues. “Got to stop my batch mates gloating somehow.”

The host nods. She clasps her hands in front of her chest for an instant, squeezing tight enough that her skin discolours before she drops her hold, returning to the selfsame splay of her palms. It feels like a warning, something in the base of Cody’s skull twitching in alarm, a snake rattling its tail just to display there’s no mace involved, failing to declare the fangs it carries. Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan’s grin sharpens to a fine point, the blue of his eyes shining in the glow of the lights overhead.

Remy’s gaze darts to Cody, then to Obi-Wan.

He doesn’t drop the grin. The ring in his tongue taps against his teeth, not loud enough for anyone who isn’t a clone to hear but the sound echoes in Cody’s bucket like bootsteps, refill, reload, aim.

Lying another set down, Remy plucks a blaster refill from one pile, adding it to his current selection.

“Why not use credits?” The host asks. Her thumb runs along the edge of the opposing nail, the habit of a lifetime banked but not yet extinguished. She orbits the camera’s gaze as she steps closer to the table, tipping her head to peer down at the cards laid before her, but she never crosses the unknowable line that would put her between the trooper and Obi-Wan.

Remy shrugs. “We don’t make any that we can get. Get a stipend from the Temple—”

“We try to give as much as we can,” Obi-Wan murmurs, loud enough to be picked up the camera but gentle enough that the host doesn’t startle too overtly when he speaks.

“Better spent on the refugees, sir.” Remy selects his next hand, fanning the cards out with a snap. “Our ‘wages’ are tied up in the renewal fund held by the Senate for our benefit. So, we make do with what we’ve got for things like this.”

There is a moment, Cody knows, when an audience is gathered in front of the altar of an empty space and a covering when everything stops as the covering is drawn back. He is used to the empty space being a patch of barren earth and the covering being a salvaged piece of cloth held up instead of what he is witnessing now; the slowly dawning expression of the host, curiosity with its teeth bared. Obi-Wan catches Cody’s gaze above it all, the revelation of his plan, the culmination of everything he had worked for over the past few weeks, and he looks to Cody first.

It’s humbling, feeling like the universe has knelt at his feet, palms upturned for something Cody cannot name. He holds Obi-Wan’s gaze as best as he can, his breath catching on every broken spur in his chest.

The host has a datapad in her hands when Cody takes stock of her once more; angled away from the gaze of the camera, a stylus scrawling across the surface of it. Her tongue is caught between her blunt teeth, her thumb jutting out to press against the broken edge of her nail. Focus has settled over her features like an exoskeleton, everything else blunted in its passage.

“This has been most enlightening, General Kenobi. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Obi-Wan bows, slighter lower than regulations required. His hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back into place with one hand.

There’s another burst of comments across the scrolling feed in Cody’s bucket, numerous enough that one barely flashes onto his visor before it’s replaced by another. Water droplets, this time.

“We’ll do an establishing shot of the entire ship as we leave and I have your comm code, yes?”

“That is correct. I may not reply straight away, but I will answer in whatever capacity I can.” Obi-Wan tips his head towards Cody, a signal to begin leading them out paired with a grin that is smaller than the previous, but no less beautiful because of it.

The host nods. Momentarily outside of the gaze of the camera, the operator turning to point the watchful gaze of half the universe at Remy once more, she flexes her fingers, the jut of her knuckles pale as claws move beneath the stretched skin. The corner of her mouth twitches, the expression gone before it could be fully registered, but Cody knows rage when he sees it, bone deep fury that, finally, blessedly, had some weight behind it. The camera returns to her and she is gentle perfection personified, dainty as porcelain once more. Begrudgingly, Cody considers the possibility that Fox may have been right and dismisses it in the same instance. Fox would never let him live it down if he did.

The rest of the walk back towards the ramp is carried out in near-silence, the feed cut for a handful of moments of privacy. Obi-Wan doesn’t lower his guard. Cody can sense the tension in him, the pressure behind his eyes like an oncoming storm brewing on the horizon. It doesn’t abate until the camera operator and host have stepped off the end of the ramp, allowing Obi-Wan to press his thumb and forefinger into his eyes with a groan. He turns away from the entrance, orbiting Cody without needing to look and speaks without removing the blunt press of his hand. “This singularity of mine is often more trouble than it’s worth, but it seems to have helped in this occasion. People don’t expect a man who doesn’t lie to be dishonest.”

“No, sir. Do you think it will work?”

“I hope so. It’ll be worth it even if all that happens is a handful of seconds on a newsreel and some dedicated fans in the archives. It’ll be something more than what we — what you — had. And I want you to have everything, Cody.”

Cody swallows, the sound loud in the sudden silence of his thoughts. “Everything, sir?”

“Everything.” Obi-Wan drops his hand, his gaze landing fully on Cody, unobstructed by interlopers on their ship, and Cody tracks the movement of his eyes. First, to his helmet, catching the exact placement of his eyes beneath his visor, then lower, to his hands. Obi-Wan’s mouth parts in surprise, his cheeks flushing a rich shade, a near enough match to the red of his hair, and it shouldn’t be as beautiful as it is. “Cody?”

“Sir?”

“Oh, you wonderful man.” Obi-Wan steps closer, already reaching for the mug Cody offers him once more. He scoops up the mug with one hand, replacing the weight of it with his other hand, curling his fingers around Cody’s as best as he could.

“It won’t be warm, not now, but I can—“

“It’s perfect, Cody. Thank you.” Obi-Wan squeezes Cody’s hands tight, the leather indenting with the motion, and Cody is used the the bluntness his gloves bring, but he feels Obi-Wan’s touch clearly. Warm skin against warm skin. He curls his own fingers around Obi-Wan’s as best as he can, clumsy from inexperience but steady as he had been trained to be.

Obi-Wan sips at his tea, his gaze drifting to the wandering motions of the departing pair. “They should be out there for a moment longer and then we will be on our way once more.”

Cody’s heart clenches, an old familiar bitterness coating the back of his teeth. They should have been able to exist longer in this in-between moment, the breath taken before leaping to the next objective, the next battle, the place where they could be something other than a General and his Commander.

But, that isn’t meant for them. For others, maybe, but not them. Not yet.

Obi-Wan’s thumb presses against the seam at Cody’s wrist, the rough callus scratching along his skin.

“I would like to kiss you, Cody,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his words undeniably true and Cody wouldn’t think to question them regardless. He is no closer than was before but Cody burns with the rush of heat from his skin, the only point of contact Cody’s outstretched hands, the press of Obi-Wan’s thumb against bare skin. “But if you’re agreeable, I have an idea of what will do for now.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan. Please.”

Cody couldn’t guess at what Obi-Wan is going to do, but he’ll follow where the other man leads gladly. He loves him too much, too fiercely, not to.

Obi-Wan squeezes his hands once more, and kneels in front of him, one leg braced high while the other extends behind him. It puts him on level with Cody’s hands and he leans forward to kiss the space his hand was occupying. His hair falls across the spread of Cody’s wrists, his beard rasping against the tips of Cody’s fingers, and Cody senses the grin better than he can see or feel it through his gloves.

It’s there all the same. He knows it.

Obi-Wan kisses his palms, soft, delicate, once more before he rises. “Shall we return, my dear?”

Cody nods and Obi-Wan walks towards the bridge, Cody a few steps behind. His palms are burning, an ache he hopes will stay as solid. as the memory will.

⁂

There is a holoclip encoded into the receiver at his wrist, transferred into his new bucket so seamlessly that CC-2224 doesn’t think to question it. He doesn’t question orders.

He doesn’t recognise the figure in the forefront, a blueskinned woman baring her teeth in a grin at the camera, but he recognises the set behind her, in the distance. The traitor Kenobi kneels in front of a trooper before pressing his face into the outspread clutch of the trooper’s palms, kissing them.

CC-2224’s palms burn as he watches the clip. He doesn’t remember why.

#star wars #codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x cody #my writing #codywan week 2024 #cww24 #codywan week #fanfic

138 notes · View notes

crowleying · 2 months

Text

Mhi Ba'juri Verde (We Will Raise Warriors) by crowleying

Words: 10.292 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody, CT-7567 | Rex, CC-1010 | Fox, Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Boil (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, CC-6454 | Ponds, Quinlan Vos, Jedi Children (Star Wars), Jedi Characters (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Order 66 Didn't Happen (Star Wars), Crèche Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Professor CC-2224 | Cody, Mandalorian Clone Troopers (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture & Customs (Star Wars), Clone Troopers Speak Mando'a (Star Wars), Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Getting Together, Clone Trooper & Jedi Relationships (Star Wars), Clone Troopers are Little Shits, CC-2224 | Cody is a Good Bro, CT-7567 | Rex is a Good Bro, CT-7567 | Rex is a Little Shit, Minor CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker, Minor CC-1010 | Fox/Quinlan Vos, Not Beta Read, We die like Cody's dignity Series: Part 2 of Codywan Week Summary: “Are you Master Obi's boyfriend?” she asked and Cody was very grateful he had had a lot of practice in keeping a blank face during meetings and negotiations while serving. A peek at Obi-Wan let him know that his experience wasn’t proving as helpful for him on this particular occasion. His pale cheeks were sporting an endearing blush. Next to him, Waxer and Boil did a poor job of hiding their snickering behind fake coughing. It earned them a glare from Cody. @codywanweek Day 6 - Crèchemaster Obi-Wan

#codywan week 2024 #cww2024 #Day 6 - Crèchemaster Obi-Wan #codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #obi wan x cody #clones #the clone wars #clone troopers #mandalorian culture #codywan week #star wars #my writing #crowleying writes #usercrowleying

67 notes · View notes

betelgo0ze · 2 months

Text

I’ve officially lost my will to live so here is an in-depth analysis on Star Wars sexuality’s and by “in-depth” I mean this is longer than I originally expected.

To be clear, most of these(minus a few) are headcanons. I’d love to hear your own headcanons in a CALM and RESPECTFUL manner lol. Headcanons are personal opinions and these are mine but again, I’d love to hear yours. I’m open to updating this list.

Obi-Wan: Obi actually is a semi-confirmed queer character. His bisexuality was briefly hinted towards and at the end of the day it very easily could be written off but it’s definitely more confirmation than anyone expected. Again, headcanons are just that. HEADcanons. They are personal ideas therefore are not canon though with his queerness being hinted towards it’s easy to simply accept it but it’s also easy to write it off. Most ppl choose for it to be 100% canon since again, it’s open to interpretation. I am one of these ppl lol. He’s also mentioned to possibly be asexual and I’m semi on board with this. Asexuality is a spectrum but in my head Obi-Wan is either all in or all out(that’s what she said) and as an asexual person I’m going to try and separate myself from him as best as I can. I’m bi, enby and ace but my asexuality is something I don’t talk about often so I won’t go in depth on it but note that my views are way different than other aces but they also could be the same. Huge spectrum. So here are some ideas, not really married to any:

-He’s just. A wh0re. Completely

-Slut in theory but not in practice

-Gives off wh0re energy but is just ace

Idk he canonically flirts with all his enemies which could be seen as slut in theory but idk I can’t imagine him being completely ace at the very least. Positively demisexual? But VERY much so, probably has only been w Satine *cough*Cody*cough* but that’s it. Idk this one I don’t rlly have a set idea on

JUST REALIZED I WENT OFF OH OBES LMAO SO UHHH SPEEDRUN

Ashoka: baby gay. Anakin has one of those “I’m proud of my lesbian sister” shirts. Currently trying to find a “I’m disappointed that my brother can’t hide his forbidden romance plot line” shirt(also getting one for Obi)

Anakin: straight but with Padmé he takes it up the as-

Also he’s been with exactly no one else BUT Padmé I’m sorry he’s a simp

Padmé: zero evidence but she’s bi (bi wife energy plays in the background)also unrelated but a total girl failure every girl failure needs her boy failure

Maul: unlike Padmé I’ve got SO much evidence but also not rlly. In headcanon town I like to think he’s got a thing for Obi but in a canon mindset that’s impossible. Unfortunately my man would kill Obi if he got the chance which he has and just failed but fanfiction exists for a reason❤️❤️❤️

Luke: not a prequel character but I just had to add him bros a TWINK

Cody: Also out of nowhere but I mentioned my love for Codywan up there so ummmmmmmmmm gay

39 notes · View notes

catboydogma · 2 months

Text

another afterglow/another place we know

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

@codywanweek 2024 day 7 prompts, sol edition: modern au: teacher/uni/academia, courting

notes: title from boyfriend by teenage dads (a delightful band). for clarification: cody is a childhood/early teens language acquisition researcher (field research, language games, interacting a lot w kids, teaches reading and writing to struggling teens) and obi-wan is a pedagogy and polisci researcher (diplomatic relations, public addresses, legal/historical jargon; how these are both weaponized and used to defend/keep peace)

wc: 2,122

cross-posted to ao3

The ignominy of it all, really, was that as soon as someone else stepped up to futz with the damn thing, it started working again. Obi-Wan nearly threw his hands up in exasperation, but that would have meant tossing all his notes into the air and his dignity with them. He glanced down at the sheaf of battered papers in his hands, then back up—which was a mistake. He hadn’t taken much notice of the man who had come up to get the projector running, too busy trying to run through his talking points in his head, and then too busy being outraged that the projector had just been working not two seconds ago—

But, well. A man could hardly be blamed for discreetly checking out the… assets… of the department he was visiting. Especially when the helpful man—Obi-Wan took a moment to fervently hope he was a professor, and not a particularly tall graduate student—was, well, bent over the desk right in front of Obi-Wan, clicking into the program and pulling up Obi-Wan’s presentation from his thumb drive. My, but those slacks were certainly well-fitted.

“That should do it,” the man said, glancing over his shoulder at Obi-Wan and giving him a restrained yet friendly smile.

“Ah, thank you,” Obi-Wan said belatedly, holding his notes in front of him like a shield. And, good lord, the top button of that dress shirt really was straining to keep things together. He combed a hand through his hair, almost certainly mussing it out of its carefully-pomaded swoop, and stuck his hand out for a shake. “I’m quite indebted to you…?”

“Cody,” the man said. His handshake was firm. Professional. He had the callouses of a boxer across the backs of his knuckles, and his gaze flicked down to the matching callouses on Obi-Wan’s knuckles. Interesting. “I’m looking forward to your talk, Dr. Kenobi. You build a compelling thesis on the semantics of dogwhistles and the purposes of language used in public address.”

“Obi-Wan, if you please.” Now that Obi-Wan had a name, he could match it to a face—Cody Fett, field researcher in early language acquisition. Whoever had done this man’s headshot for the department page should be shot. It did him no justice.

“Should we give you the room…?” asked a statuesque woman with a ruddily dark complexion and vitiligo marking her face and bared arms. Her grin was sharp, but not cruel.

“Shaak,” Cody hissed, dropping Obi-Wan’s hand as if it had burned him. “Really.”

Shaak Ti—another early language acquisition linguist, but she specialized in very early childhood, coming from a neurology background—inclined her head toward Obi-Wan and winked. “I am simply admiring your spirit of welcome and camaraderie to our visiting professor.”

“Yes, welcome, Dr. Kenobi.” The head of the department, whom Obi-Wan was already familiar with, grimaced artfully at Professor Ti. “I believe this makes it a record for most on time colloquium we’ve had this semester.”

Obi-Wan glanced at the clock, which told him it was five minutes past the scheduled starting time. Beside him, Cody turned his head to “cough” into his shoulder.

“It’s my pleasure to welcome Dr. Kenobi all the way from England… he’s certainly come a long way from the Master’s student who accidentally brought a stack of ‘get well soon’ cards in place of his notes when he came in for orals, right on the heels of recovering from a broken collarbone.”

Ah, he’d known it would be a mistake to ask Mace to give the opening remarks. Obi-Wan suffered through the somewhat embarrassing—but still fond—personal anecdotes with as much stoicism as he could, and was duly proud of himself when he only teared up a little as Mace finished with his recent accomplishments and how proud he was of Obi-Wan; not only as a friend and colleague, but also as a preeminent academic and professor.

“Yes, thank you, Mace,” Obi-Wan said, letting himself be pulled into a brief hug and getting the breath crushed out of his lungs for his moment of weakness. Mace was a demonstrative man; almost despite himself, Obi-Wan found that he’d missed Mace’s particular brand of affection and closeness. “That is very kind of you, I truly appreciate you taking the time to do the opening remarks for me… I look forward to catching up to you after.”

The lecture went quickly, to Obi-Wan’s surprise. This was his first public presentation of his paper, other than a “practice” run at his home university, but an attentive audience made all the difference. It helped that Obi-Wan was particularly enthusiastic about the subject matter. There was a good turnout, too—quite a few professors and adjunct lecturers, a handful of graduate students who were either diligently taking notes or half-asleep on their desks, and a staggering amount of undergraduates, for some unfathomable reason. The attendees laughed in all the right places, were seemingly appreciative of the time and effort Obi-Wan had put into making his PowerPoint presentable—aha—and by the end of it, Obi-Wan found that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

At the end, they still had the planned ten minutes for Obi-Wan to take questions. He made himself comfortable, sitting back on the top of the table at the front of the room and trying not to overanalyze the way Cody’s eyes tracked his movement.

“The note you make about existing beliefs and implicature was particularly interesting.” Cody leaned forward and—good God—rested his elbows on his knees. That top button had to be reinforced with something, Obi-Wan thought dazedly. His dress shirt practically strained across his shoulders. “Would you mind elaborating on the schematic you provide for the inferentialist view?”

“Yes, certainly, thank you,” Obi-Wan managed. That was his favorite bit of the paper, actually, and he’d had to cut a bit of it for length reasons—but this presented the perfect opportunity…

Some sort of activity was going on at the front table. Nefarious, if Obi-Wan had to guess; Mace was having a discreet conversation with Shaak Ti and kept giving Obi-Wan looks that were alarmingly calculating. Obi-Wan soldiered through regardless, answering a handful of solid questions coming from other professors and the note-taking graduates, one very strange question from a half-asleep graduate that had clearly been spurred on by promise of extra credit from one of their professors, and a few of the more entertaining undergraduate questions.

He ended up going well past time, but no one complained—students and a few faculty members quietly slipped out in ones and twos, with Mace and Shaak Ti conspiring all the while. Actually, Obi-Wan was starting to get somewhat alarmed about that. Mace had a bit of a… theatrical streak.

“…but I think I’ll cut it short for now,” Obi-Wan said as he gathered up his notes and ejected his thumb drive. His throat felt rather sore and he grimaced as he took a sip of water. “But I believe the department has kindly organized a spreadsheet for those who might want to sign up for lunch after, if anyone still has questions—was it that brunch place you were recommending just down the way, Mace?”

“No,” Mace said. He didn’t look up from his laptop screen. He didn’t elaborate, either.

Right. Okay. Yes. Sure.

What the hell was happening here?

“I don’t know if we decided on a location,” Cody said. He was eyeing Mace strangely, too, but stood up all the same to assist Obi-Wan in turning off the desktop and projector. “I’ve got some recommendations, if you come up empty.”

“Yes, do that, you have the most wonderful taste,” Shaak Ti said, beaming.

“Hey, Professor Ti?” said a young undergraduate with artfully-dyed blue and white cornrows, “I think there’s a problem with the spreadsheet, it won’t let—”

“Ah, let’s see about that.” Shaak Ti guided the student a few steps away and they bent their heads together to look at her phone screen and whisper about… something.

“I’ll get the door,” Cody said, guiding Obi-Wan out of the room with a hand on his back. His hands were… distractingly broad. “Not sure what Mace and Shaak are on about. We had a location decided practically a week ago—Mace loves that bistro. Something must have come up.” Cody brought out his own phone and started going through his emails, brow furrowed. Ah, it was times like these that Obi-Wan regretted his decision to leave the world of smartphones behind and stick to his trusty flip phone. But, well, he was tired of being made to scan bloody QR codes for access to everything, and he had only been partially motivated by spiting his University in the decision.

“Yes, it’s not like Mace to change his mind quite so last minute,” Obi-Wan said as he squared his notes and flash drive away in his computer bag. He dropped a few pages at some point while juggling his keys and bag, and bent down nearly at the same moment Cody did to retrieve them. They didn’t quite bang their heads together, but it was a near thing, and Obi-Wan found himself having to nervously laugh it off as he accepted the papers from Cody and did not think about their fingers brushing.

“Heck,” Cody said, staring down at his phone screen. The spreadsheet, Obi-Wan presumed, even as he found himself utterly charmed by Cody’s—very deliberate—speech patterns.

“What, don’t tell me it won’t let you edit it, either…?” Obi-Wan came around to peer over Cody’s shoulder, momentarily distracted by the way Cody’s hair curled just under his ear. “… ah.”

“Yeah.” Cody’s phone did show the right spreadsheet, or at least Obi-Wan assumed it was the right spreadsheet—but it looked quite different from the version Obi-Wan had looked at just this morning. Instead of every slot filled out with names of faculty and a couple dutiful graduate students, the only name on there was… Cody Fett. The time remained the same, and so did the title of the spreadsheet—LUNCH WITH DR. KENOBI FROM CORUSCANT U. The location had been replaced by a single red rose and a winking face. Last save… two minutes ago.

“Well, it seems I have you all to myself.” Obi-Wan had the distinct pleasure of watching a tide of gooseflesh rise up the side of Cody’s neck as he spoke over his shoulder and into his ear, still poised to look at Cody’s phone screen from behind.

“Guess so,” Cody said, sounding somewhat dazed. “You know—there’s this nice place just a couple minutes’ walk from here. You like Māori food?”

“I’ve never had the pleasure of trying it,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ve got a good palette and a high spice tolerance, though, so I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. Especially with good company.”

Cody gave him a flat look, but there was a spark of humor in the crinkling of his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re this good-looking, Dr. Kenobi. That kind of flirting shouldn’t work as well as it does.”

“Ah, so it is working!” Obi-Wan said with a sly grin. “But—this is somewhat unrelated, but it’s been bothering me somewhat for a while—how the hell did your department get so many undergraduates to turn out for a colloquium? We’re lucky to get four or five, and that’s on a good day…”

Cody barked out a laugh and lead Obi-Wan to the nearest staircase, holding the door for him and resting a hand on his back again as they went down the stairs. Wholly unnecessary, to be sure, but very much… appreciated. “That’s a good one. Mace had the foresight to attach your headshot and a link to one of your video lectures. I liked seeing you at work—you make public speaking look enjoyable. But some students were fixated on other aspects of your presentation. So to speak.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, flattered, and then—“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Cody said with a knowing look and another one of his small, private smiles. “Might just be a good thing after all that Mace cleared out your schedule for lunch. I swear undergrads are only getting bolder.”

“It is most certainly a good thing,” Obi-Wan protested. He bumped his shoulder into Cody’s and then leaned into the contact, letting it linger for just a little longer than was, strictly speaking, appropriate. “I’m certainly happy with how things have turned out.”

Cody flushed; Obi-Wan wouldn’t have been able to tell, but for how close he was to Cody now. Yes, maybe Qui-Gon had been right about getting a change of scenery. There were certainly lots of very good reasons to move back to the States, and not just because the food was much better…

45 notes · View notes

fionajames · 9 months

Text

Tunnels

A/N: @transmascanakin this is for you, since I know you miss them so much! A tiny bit of Codywan! Please send requests people, I'm desperate!

Anakin shuffled closer to his former Master’s side as the tunnel ahead seemed to swallow them whole. The pair stood at the gaping entrance to a cave system that supposedly led right under the Separatists' base. Both the 501st and 212th’s troops were collected behind them, Cody and Rex murmuring worries to each other softly.

“Well, this looks cheery,” Anakin chirped, grimacing lightly as he moved his lightsaber in an attempt to illuminate the tunnel more.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan shot back, and somehow his sarcasm seemed even stronger than Anakin’s. The brunette looked instinctively to his other side for his Padawan. Usually she was by his side, or by Rex’s. Now, he remembered she was back at the Temple catching up on her studies.

“Let’s get going,” Anakin decided bitterly, signalling to the troops to follow him as he headed into the dark. Obi-Wan followed by his side, glancing around.

“This seems too simple,” Obi-Wan worried and Anakin rolled his eyes subtly. “Surely the Separatists know of a tunnel system right below them. It’s quite hard to miss.”

“The data we have suggests these tunnels are unstable and abandoned,” Anakin reminded him. “They removed them from newer maps as a precaution.”

“Still,” Obi-Wan continued, but didn’t speak any more. Instead, the men travelled underground in the dim area, time escaping them.

Anakin chewed on his lip as he turned another corner. He shivered as his body reminded him of the cold air they were surrounded with. Then, abruptly, specks of dust fell from above in clouds. Anakin coughed, waving at the cloud blindly.

“Retreat!” He yelled, realisation engulfing him. “Out! Get out!”

But he was too late, as the boulder in the roof above them collapsed inwards, separating both him and Obi-Wan from their troops.

Both men spluttered and coughed, brushing dust and dirt off of their faces. “Anakin?!” Obi-Wan called, blinking furiously as his eyes watered painfully.

“Right here, Obi-Wan,” Anakin managed weakly. He was collapsed by the tunnel wall, cradling his leg with a pained grimace on his face. Obi-Wan fell to his knees and scrambled to his brother, eyes widening as he saw the blood pooling around the brunette. “Leg got knocked.”

Obi-Wan cursed, activating his comm. “Cody? Commander, are you there?” He pleaded with the comm, glancing up for a moment in quick, silent prayer. Obi-Wan wasn’t much of a prayer, but now, in this war, they needed all the help they could get.

“Right here, General.” Even through his pained gaze, Anakin could hear the underlying fondness Cody spoke with, only to Obi-Wan. Anakin could hear the same tone when Obi-Wan spoke to his Commander. “Are you alright?”

“Anakin’s injured,” Obi-Wan hurried, glancing at the unnatural way his brother’s leg was bent. “We need a medic, fast.”

From the other side, Anakin and Obi-Wan could hear faint, muffled coughs and the sound of scraping. Cody’s voice came through the comm once again. “The boulder won’t move.”

Obi-Wan grit his teeth, stepping back. He outstretched both hands, calling the Force to his aid. The invisible energy wrapped around him like a gust of wind, and pushed the boulder with it. The boulder didn’t even budge, even as Anakin joined in.

It wasn’t moving, now or any time soon.

“We’re not keen to use rocket launchers with the unstableness of everything,” Cody explained further, and he too sounded anxious. “Have you got your lightsaber, perhaps you could cut through it?”

Obi-Wan grinned, muttering something before glancing around for his weapon. His briefly hopeful expression fell when he couldn’t spot it. He ignored Anakin’s scoffs as he grabbed the brunette’s lightsaber instead.

Activating it, a small part of Obi-Wan’s unease melted away, soothed by the comforting blue glow. He basked in it for just a moment, closing his eyes for merely a second to breathe. He plunged the blade into the rock, grunting as he pushed it further in. But the rock was solid and strong, and he couldn’t even get the whole blade in without too much strain.

“See anything on your side?” Obi-Wan huffed into the comm.

“Nothing, sir,” Cody replied and Obi-Wan groaned in frustration.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan decided after a moment. “We’ll wait here, set up camp perhaps. I’ll scout the tunnel ahead, see if I can see any light.” He paused, before remembering. “Is my lightsaber there?”

Cody didn’t respond immediately, the sound of faint voices echoing through the comm. “Yes, sir.” Cody replied, slightly exasperated. “We’ll try to move the boulder, you rest.”

Obi-Wan didn’t protest any more, knowing Anakin needed his attention. He turned to the brunette, who was biting back tears, almost literally. The ginger settled next to him, examining the injury, although he refrained from touching it. “Looks broken,” he murmured, concern lacing his words like silk. Anakin grunted. “Really?!” He snapped. “I thought it was just a scratch.” Obi-Wan raised a brow and Anakin sighed. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” Obi-Wan whispered, reaching up and running a hand through his brother’s hair once, scratching his scalp soothingly before standing up. “It’s not bleeding too bad.” It was true, the wound had stopped bleeding. “I’m going to go look at the tunnel ahead.”

Anakin sat up abruptly, blue eyes wide. “No, please!” The older turned to him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “Stay.”

Obi-Wan was about to protest when he locked eyes with the younger. Pain and frustration swam blue in Anakin’s eyes, but not just those. There was a sense of loneliness and desperation too.

“Alright,” he murmured, settling down beside him. “Just for a few minutes.”

Anakin leaned against him, head dropping to rest on Obi-Wan's shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut contently, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Neither moved, warm sleep capturing the brunette. Obi-Wan smiled, wrapping an arm around his brother.

They would be alright.

Requests, please!

Love y'all!

56 notes · View notes

ferretrade · 5 months

Text

Last Line Challenge

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as you feel like).

@anxiousotters and @merlyn-bane both tagged me around the same time so let's do two fics :)

from the w/w codywan ft quinlan baby au

“You're our tuāhine.” “Brushing up on your Māori, eh? Ka pai.”

(this is still in prog: see lack of dialogue tags. but this au will be the first of mine that is really set in our world and I'm excited to explore Cody's heritage and Māori being her first language but not that of some of her cousins who grew up elsewhere (cough Rex cough). my life is coming up with silly aus and then making them deep explorations of identity that no one asked for lolz)

from the what if cody...? au

“Commander, I—oh.” Thorn stops where he stands, barely a step into the door that he barged through after a cursory knock. “Sorry to interrupt. I didn't know you were here, General.”

idk who has been tagged already bc I'm lazy and not looking back, so throwing out some random ones! @lttrsfrmlnrrgby @foreverchangingfandomsao3 @goddammitjim @frostbitebakery @anaclastic-azurite

#ferretalk!#codywan #like technically. there is no real shippiness in any of the content here #quin x cody #again tagging on a technicality that fic 1 contains that #abp fic

20 notes · View notes

fandom-friday · 9 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/brainrotrants/738619055735537664/the-commander-swap-chapter-1-brainrotstories

i don’t read bodyswap fics often (actually i can’t remember if i ever have 💀) but i love this one where cody and fox wake up in each other’s places and it’s exactly as punchy and crunchy as you’d imagine

i had multiple “oh shit” moments just from the dialogue alone and little hints and nods *cough cough* “his side wasn’t warm”

it’s got codywan and protective thorn and i’m so excited to see where it goes 💛💛

ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT SO. I saw the tags and was like "oh, this is gonna be HILARIOUS," in my head, thinking "Fox is gonna give Cody SO MUCH SHIT". SHENANIGANS MAY BE HAD.

BUT THEN. BUT THEN. The ANGST. Fox's guilt. Thorn being protective. MY FEELS. I'm right there with you in that I don't normally read body swap fics, but boy howdy @brainrotrants punched me in the throat with this one (in a good way). Thanks for sending this one in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #commander cody #commander fox #obi-wan kenobi #commander thorn #cody x obi-wan #codywan #angst

41 notes · View notes

geodax · 1 year

Text

Codywan Reverse Bang

It’s that time of year! Here’s my contribution to the @codywanreversebang. It’s an enemies to maybe lovers story in an alternate universe where Cody and the clones were raised to serve the Empire and fight the Jedi. Read the fic below or on AO3.

Check out the amazing art by @cmarani linked here. And thanks to the mods for the extra time!

Pain.

It radiated out from his abdomen, burning shards of agony shredding through his stomach and liver, splitting open his rib cage, and leaving his heart only just beating. The pain was far too familiar and no less agonizing than before. It was almost unfair that the agony of plasma cutting through skin and organs never seemed to lessen no matter how many times he endured it.

Cody was fairly certain he was screaming, or at the very least, yelling for a medic, but there were no medics here, no surgical wings equipped specifically to treat clones, no specialists standing at the ready to ensure the army lost none of its leadership.

He had long expected to die in battle. Not like this certainly, but it was a fact he had accepted a long time ago. Still, it was a shame. He had rather hoped that after dealing with the band of raiders, he would have enough credits to take a few months off and settle somewhere quiet, away from the roiling political shitstorm of the Core.

Blurry faces appeared in his vision. More pain lanced through his side - someone was touching him, trying to staunch the flow of blood where the blackened skin had broken open.

Cody tried to push them away. He’d rather die quickly, without the added pain of treatment, but his arms were caught and pulled aside.

Jumbled voices filled his ears, trying to calm him, but nothing could soothe him the way his brothers could. Their voices always meant help was coming, help was here, even if help was impossible, at least he would die in someone’s arms.

He thrashed violently when they moved him, nearly escaping their grasp, before they pinned him firmly to a stretcher.

More jumbled words, more soothing voices filtered through the pain. Something about healing, something about debt. No, he did not like the sound of that at all.

“Stop--” his voice slurred, then failed him entirely as he hacked at the blood suddenly filling his throat. The sickly sweet scent of bacta flooded his nostrils before it poured into his sinuses.

In the Core or in a medical bay, he would have inhaled deeply, allowing the mist to reach his lungs and staunch the bleeding until surgery could be completed.

But out here, bacta was worth more than the few thousand credits in his bank account. Certainly more than these people had paid him for this job.

How much would they demand in return?

How many years of service would they deem an acceptable exchange for saving his life?

This would never end, would it? He barely escaped the clutches of the Empire before they snatched back what little freedom they had offered the clones as thanks for fighting the war. And even then, he had to fight tooth and nail just to keep what bare semblance of choice he had.

“Breath,” the healer repeated again, this time just as someone else pressed on his wound. He screamed again, wheezed in another breath, and felt the bacta soothe the burning tissues even as he tried to cough it back up.

It was already too late, but he couldn’t give up.

He couldn’t--

The sunlight vanished and he found himself indoors, somehow. They were still hours away from the village, he had been certain of that. It’s why he had laid his trap here, where no one was supposed to get hurt.

They were gentle as they placed him back on the floor, but it did little to stop the blinding pain.

And then the chanting began.

Cody would have sighed if he had breath to spare. He knew this village was a little off - most groups isolated for long enough tended to diverge from the galactic norm at least slightly - but he hadn’t thought a cult was flourishing here. And it certainly was, judging by the sudden appearance of glittering white and gold robes swirling throughout the room.

Well, at least whenever their supposed god failed to save his life, Cody would die free. There wasn’t much more he could ask for at this point.

Metal clanked and then hands were on him. They lay upon his side and moved outwards, the pain numbing with each pass of their hands over the torn skin.

Cody wondered idly what painkiller they were using. There were more than a few on the market that acted so quickly, but they were extraordinarily expensive. Perhaps some crop had those properties. He had seen stranger things in the galaxy.

Still, it didn’t matter. No painkiller would save his life, just ease his passing. That had been an unheard of luxury to the clones; it had never made sense to waste resources on the dying. But lying here, on the receiving end, he thought it would have been justified to spare even a half dose to his brothers clutching their spilled guts in their hands.

Cody squinted upwards and caught a glimpse of brilliant blue eyes before his vision blurred again, too accosted by agony to focus on anything.

Some memory tickled at the back of his mind. Something important. Something--

He screamed through another wave of pain, even as the painkillers fought to soothe it. It wasn’t enough.

“Breath,” the man said. Now, there was a soothing - familiar? - voice. Yes, it had the same Coruscanti lilt of the Empire’s senators and bootlickers that had spent a lifetime trying to keep Cody enslaved, but this voice reminded him of the rare specialists that had visited medical frigates to conduct more complex surgeries than the clones were trained for.

It was one of those specialists that had stitched his brain back together after his skull had been cracked open. She hadn’t said much, but she had allowed Rex in during his recovery to ease his back awake from the anesthesia.

He hadn’t realized such an act was normal to so much of the galaxy, that this was only a hint of the kindness natborns showed each other on a day to day basis that was so often denied to the clones.

There were a lot of things he hadn’t realized back then.

Cody closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax as the pain continued to fade. Really, there was no harm in falling asleep. In all likelihood, he wouldn’t wake up again, but that was okay.

Maybe he’d finally get to see Rex again.

Pain was there when he woke up, but it was the light glaring into his eyes that drew him to wakefulness. Cody groaned and covered his eyes, too tired to consider moving out of the sunbeam. His whole body ached, but some of the supposed god’s painkiller must still be in his bloodstream because he didn’t feel the need to scream through the agony.

He was almost comfortable. The floor beneath him was plushily carpeted and a pillow was tucked under his head. Someone had wiped the blood off his face and hands and removed his armor to make room for the bandages wrapped around his torso.

He felt much better than he should, considering.

A blaster bolt to the chest was a death sentence, more often than not. In triage scenarios, it was too time intensive a surgery to be performed when so many others were in just as much danger. Even outside the chaos of a mass casualty event, it was a risky procedure on the best of days since surgeons were permanently in short supply.

Really, the only option was a Jedi healer.

But they were all long dead. Cody had made sure of that - had even once reveled in destroying the Empire’s enemies and facing a cunning opponent. He would have laughed at the irony of it all if the ghosts did not weigh so heavily on him.

The light in his eyes abruptly dimmed with the rustle of a curtain. Footsteps approached, accompanied by the soft clink of - a chain?

Carefully, Cody squinted into the dim light to find the supposed god haloed by what light still filtered in through the curtains.

“Hello again, Commander,” the god said and what little warmth Cody had felt in his bones turned to ice.

Obi-Wan Kenobi. Jedi master. The last knight of Alderaan, the savior of Christophsis, the guiding light of the Hyperion Cluster. The reaper, as his brothers called him. The man had a thousand names to accompany his own, dozens of titles to commemorate his victories against the Empire before Cody had finally outmaneuvered him.

The Empire had heralded the day as a great victory.

But too many brothers had lain dead at his feet.

Because Cody had to win, damn the consequences.

“You’re--” Cody choked on the rest of his sentence. Of course, Kenobi was alive. Of course, he was here, of all places, pretending to be a god, when Cody had no blaster at his side, no army at his back. Cody doubted he could even land a punch if Kenobi were to so helpfully place himself within range.

Kenobi would take his revenge.

And Cody wouldn’t be able to lift a finger to stop him.

He was free - from the Empire, from the smugglers that had gotten him off Coruscant in exchange for five years of his life, from the bounty hunters the Empire had sent after their most famous deserter. No more army, no more regulations, no more collars wrapped tight around his neck.

Cody deserved to die for what he did. His heart knew that even as he ran from it, too terrified still to dare recall that day.

He just wanted a little more time.

Just--

Kenobi smiled at him, but it wasn’t the blazing, flirtatious smile Cody had gotten to know over the battlefield. There was something too knowing in those eyes, too aware of everything Cody had done, every corpse he had left in his wake. And yet there was no hate in his gaze.

Cody looked away.

“I didn’t know the Empire allowed for armor paint,” Kenobi said.

The gold stripes painted on his armor were certainly not regulation. Neither was the hair curling over the tops of his ears or the dusting of stubble across his cheeks that he hadn’t bothered to shave. The blaster he usually carried wasn’t standard issue nor were the few hesitant strokes of polish on his nails and the single piercing he had gotten during a drunken evening on the streets of Nar Shadda.

Each small deviation had felt unforgivable. For days, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder, certain he would be caught and reprimanded - or worse. Not even deserting had cranked his paranoia so high.

But no one had said anything. His brothers hadn’t been waiting behind every corner to arrest him. Local security hadn’t even given him a second glance for so obviously flaunting the rules that the clones had never lived a day without.

“They don’t,” Cody said.

The silence stretched on.

“I don’t serve the Empire anymore.”

The words felt like an apology.

They weren’t.

“I see,” Kenobi said. The Jedi certainly did not - could not - see what Cody meant. But Cody wasn’t in the mood to clarify. Not to him.

Again, the Jedi’s gaze fell on him, searching for something, though Cody could not guess what. Too often he had borne the brunt of Kenobi’s piercing gaze and the too-knowing look in his eye that usually meant he was a dozen steps ahead of Cody and would be walking away from their confrontation without even igniting his saber.

It was strange now to realize how little stood between them. No armies, no politics, no strategies. It was just the two of them.

And all the bodies they left in their wake.

The Jedi remained still, far from Cody’s side and his twitchy trigger finger. His blaster was probably out in the field where he fell or maybe Kenobi had finally had the good sense to disarm his opponents before trying to sweet talk them.

He had tried to shoot the Jedi in the face on more than one occasion. It never landed, but it had always been satisfying to startle Kenobi out of whatever tangent he had travelled down and allow Cody to make a break for it before the Jedi’s word could sink too deeply in his mind.

“I need to change your bandages,” Kenobi said. He had the good sense not to approach, but Cody wasn’t sure how long that would last. If he was intent on saving Cody’s life, he would do it, one way or another. Because alone, Cody was no match for a Jedi. Especially a Jedi like Kenobi.

“Would you rather change them yourself?” Kenobi asked, a single eyebrow twitching almost into his characteristic smirk before it disappeared.

Cody scowled, but there was no way to change the bandages himself. He was almost willing to try anyway if he wasn’t guaranteed to rip back open what the bacta and Kenobi’s Force had begun to heal.

“Go ahead,” Cody said, trying not to feel as if he were surrendering. The battle was already over. He lost. Now, he could only hope for the mercy Cody had not once shown to Kenobi’s people.

Kenobi’s hands were quick and sure. He removed the soiled bandages and bacta patches before replacing them with fresh gauze and a new layer of bacta. Cody idly wondered at the cost of it all, before realizing it was probably beyond his ability to repay at this point. Besides, his life was in Kenobi’s hands now. His financial woes were the least of his concerns.

“You should be healed enough to leave in a few days,” Kenobi said as he finished. “The organs still need time to heal and you’re still at risk for infection, but you’re out of the woods. You’ve got your remarkable healing abilities to thank for that.”

Kenobi had already started talking about something else before the words finally caught up to Cody.

“You’d let me leave?” Cody asked. It felt like a trap to ask, but Cody had always thought it best to spring the trap rather than let it close when he least expected.

Kenobi shrugged. “I have no quarrel with you Commander, unless you feel inclined to dig up old grudges.”

The sentiment was so obviously a lie it was almost laughable. Kenobi was clearly trying to lull him into some false sense of security. Cody would not fall for it.

“And the town?” Cody asked.

“I don’t believe they have taken issue with you.”

Cody scowled, then looked away. Of course, the Jedi wouldn’t even have a proper answer. He had lived too long assured that his needs would be met, that medicial supplies would not be withheld as bartering chips or punishment. He wouldn’t even know what Cody was asking.

“Commander,” Kenobi said. There was a touch of steel in his voice, the hint of the general Cody remembered bleeding through. “I’m afraid I am not particularly involved in local politics. I cannot answer your question without the relevant information.

“I can’t--” Cody steeled himself. “I can’t afford the bacta treatments.”

The bacta treatments should have been his right after the war ended. He was supposed to have his citizenship, backpay, and medical care to cover the plethora of injuries he had sustained over the war. Even as a soldier, bacta was readily available. It was cheaper than fulltime surgeons. And once the Empire established a monopoly, they had as much as they needed while the civilian market struggled.

But even as he lamented the loss, he realized too late what he had revealed.

“You deserted,” Kenobi said.

“No!” Cody snapped, but the truth rang too loud to be ignored. His cheeks burned with shame, still just as fresh as it was ten years ago.

“There are people out there that can help you build a life away from the Empire, Commander. Help you get your feet on the ground, maybe--”

“I don’t want your help, Jedi. I just want to be left alone.”

“It’s a little late for that,” Kenobi said.

“I know.”

The silence between them stretched on. It was not the silence Cody had grown to know in the moments before battle nor the silence of the barracks when most had already gone to bed. It was not the sort of silence that begged to be broken, nor the kind that must not be. It was simply the space between breaths, stretched out a moment too long.

“Do you know why the Jedi fought in the war?” Kenobi asked, apparently oblivious to Cody’s own desire to never discuss the war or the Empire, but he supposed it was a fairly neutral question. Better than Kenobi asking after him.

They both knew the answer the propaganda fed them - greed, power, madness. Even the Alliance had gradually begun to turn their back on the Jedi; for all great feats the Jedi accomplished, the lives they saved, their abilities only served to alienate them from the general public.

Cody didn’t provide an answer, though he had a guess or two. One couldn’t learn to predict their enemies’ moves without knowing their motivations.

“We can feel the galaxy’s suffering. Not just the feelings of the people near us, but the actual weight of every sentient life that has ever lived or will ever live. Their feelings leave an imprint on the Force that echoes through time,” Obi-Wan said. “Every day, we wake up to a billion voices begging for help. By night, there are just as many, no matter how many lives we save. But we can’t stop trying.”

It was certainly not the official answer - that they were honor bound to restore the peace, to restore freedom and justice to a galaxy rapidly destabilizing under the ever expanding grip of the Empire - but it rang true in the way Kenobi’s words rarely did.

And yet it made no sense.

“Isn’t that an exercise in futility?” Cody asked.

“Perhaps,” Kenobi said. He paused to look down at his shaking hands. Cody wondered vaguely when that had developed. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what happened, Commander. You and your brothers deserved more than to fight a war that was not your own. And if you don’t mind me asking, I would very much like to know why you fought at all. Because you are certainly not mindless, obedient droids, no matter what your Senate claims.”

Cody could easily give him the official answer - citizenship, honor, duty, training. The list went on for miles, all of it dedicated to lofty ideals that the Empire claimed to uphold. But they all knew that was crap from the beginning.

Honor hadn’t kept him on Coruscant when the Empire declared war again mere days after they had finally defeated the Alliance. Duty hadn’t freed him of what he had done, of the ghosts that haunted his steps.

But love did.

At least, it used to. Before the death reports trickled in, before the numbers tallied up faster than Cody could track. Before his brothers stopped looking him in the eye, stopped trusting him to watch their back.

Before he had sacrificed hundreds of his brothers to win a war none of them cared about.

Before he had killed Rex.

It had been the right choice, tactically speaking. A few hundred brothers fed into the meat grinder, so that the rest of them could finally have the freedom to live, to breathe, to take whatever life they wanted and make it their own.

It had been love that drove his hand.

And love was why his brothers hated him - because they would have rather kept fighting than see their brothers slaughtered.

Because at war, they were together. United. Purposeful.

Without it…

“We were made for it,” Cody said.

It felt like a lie.

It had to be.

Kenobi collected the soiled bandages and disappeared from Cody’s eyeline. His instincts made a half-hearted attempt at panicking, but Cody was too tired to consider the danger. Kenobi was right; he would never have the quiet life he desired, never be at peace while his brothers were still enslaved by the Empire.

And yet none of them would ever desert - they were too loyal to each other to even consider it. And the promise of citizenship, of being acknowledged as a sentient, free people had been motivation enough to prevent their more scheming minds from finding them some way out.

But it was a lie. Just like every damn thing Cody had ever believed. Over and over he found himself living with the consequences of the lies the Empire told - that they were bringing peace to the galaxy, that they were doing something good, that the clones would be rewarded for their work, that they would all be free someday.

Only a few years alone had revealed the truth to him.

And with the truth, came the horror of what he had done - the blood he and his brothers had left in their wake. But much stronger than guilt, was frustration.

It had all been pointless. All the brothers that died for a better life, all the lives he had sacrificed: they were never going to be given their freedom.

He heard the clank of a chain again as Kenobi returned. He looked almost as bad as Cody was feeling: his face was gaunt, his skin almost gray, his eyes red. More than that, he looked exhausted.

“What are you doing here?” Cody asked. Kenobi was in hiding, certainly. All the Jedi (what remained of them) were. Cody had been quite efficient at wiping out their network of support. But Jedi didn’t go into hiding as gods - rumors traveled too quickly of such things. Even out here, far from most hyperspace lanes, on a planet that disdained outsiders, rumors should have spread eventually. And yet he was; alive and untouched by the hunters that had burned their way through the galaxy for years now.

Kenobi had always been the exception to the rule - too clever, too manipulative, too proud. It was what made him a great general, how he inspired devotion in his troops, how he could convince them to trust even his most ridiculous plans.

It’s why he had been the Empire’s greatest enemy, why Cody had been tasked with slaughtering his battalion, his allies, down to the last member. He had succeeded when no one else had, but never managed to track down the Jedi’s starfighter after they shot it out of the sky.

“The whole galaxy thinks you’re dead,” Cody said.

“I almost was,” Kenobi said. “I was caught in the hyperspace slipstream of a cruiser before I was spat out here, no comms, no support, not even a general idea of where I might be. I walked for days to find civilization, and when I did, it was under attack. I revealed myself as a Jedi to defend the town, but I was shot twice in the process and brought here to heal.”

The Jedi came to Cody’s side with a tray of biscuits and a glass of infused water that shimmered almost blue in the dim light.

“You should eat,” Kenobi said.

“It’s been ten years,” Cody said.

Kenobi didn’t answer. There was something terribly close to guilt in his eyes, but more than that, Cody finally glimpsed his freezing anger.

Good. It was about time they stopped this pointless, slow dance around each other.

“Kenobi--”

“What do you think happened, Commander?” Kenobi asked. “No matter how many times we offered you and your brothers a way out of slavery, you spit in our face. You destroyed our Temple, you developed the protocols for the killing squads, you ensured we had nowhere to run. And then when we were practically beaten, you gave the order to hunt and execute us. As if we were nothing but animals.”

“So you set yourself up as a god to these people? Using and manipulating them in the same way that the Empire does to us? Because if that’s the kind of people the Jedi really were, then I’m glad we never followed you. Because you deserved what we did to you.”

Kenobi looked away, his fringe falling over his eyes. And then pulled his robes aside to reveal a heavy chain around his ankle.

“I didn’t choose this,” he said. “No Jedi would.”

Kenobi ran his fingers through his hair and sighed at Cody’s skeptical expression.

“While I was healing, they trapped me here. They thought they could use my abilities to keep their crops growing, their children healthy, so they tried bribing me – giving me gifts and food, anything they could imagine. And when I couldn’t help them, they turned to punishments and coercion.”

Kenobi’s fingers ghosted over a nearly invisible scar cutting across his cheek.

“They had never heard of the Jedi. All they had were stories of fickle gods that wandered the stars that could destroy planets on a whim or bring great riches to those that won their favor. They thought they were doing the right thing. Eventually, I taught myself to heal. That was the one gift I could actually give them.”

“You healed them?” Cody growled. The very idea set him on edge. He certainly wouldn’t lift a finger to help the shitty natborns that denied him and his brothers their citizenship. “Why?”

“I couldn’t leave them to suffer.”

“But they hurt you, they—”

Cody stopped. Because Kenobi had been telling him why since he opened his mouth. Because it was only a chain – ten years was more than enough time to wiggle his way free one way or another, Cody had seen him escape for more secure prisons.

“It’s because you’re a Jedi, isn’t it?”

Kenobi nodded. “It is not such a bad life,” he said. “I can still help people without bringing the Empire down on my head. I can meditate freely, still practice my beliefs. I can sleep without worrying what tomorrow will bring or what harm I will have to cause. I can simply serve these people as best I can – and here, that means healing.”

“Then you already know why so many of my brothers cannot leave.”

Kenobi smiled sadly. “You love each other and each other only.”

“Yes.”

The truth was simple. It did not make the loss of their love any less agonizing.

“They hate me,” Cody said when it felt like the silence had stretched on for long enough. “That’s why I left. After what I did—” He shook his head. “We only ever had each other. And I—”

Cody couldn’t continue, but he didn’t need to. He had seen the shock on Kenobi’s face when he realized that Cody was going to walk his brothers into a trap just to distract the other Jedi generals and their army long enough to bring in the bombers and the surrounded them.

The annihilation had been complete.

Not a single survivor walked away.

Not even Rex.

The Alliance had tried to retreat under Kenobi’s quick direction, but Cody hadn’t let them go, hadn’t allowed for surrender, for decency.

He won the war.

And lost everything else.

“Then go back for them,” Kenobi said, as if it were that simple.

It wasn’t. There was no way to pull everyone off Coruscant and the outposts at once. Too many things could go wrong, too many brothers would be left behind to face the wrath of the Empire. Cody had spent years agonizing over the problem, turning it over and over, accounting for thousands of variables and possibilities without luck.

“It’s impossible.”

“Then let me help.”

Epilogue

The chain broke with the snap of Obi-Wan’s fingers. He had not bothered with fanfare or comment, simply done what he had spent ten long years avoiding. But Cody saw the way his shoulders uncurled, how the permanent tension seemed to bleed out of his body. This was a relief too long in the making.

Cody’s armor slipped back on easily now that his wound was healed. Kenobi had certainly become a master healer in the intervening years. With the help of bacta, there was not even a scar to remember it by nor any lingering tightness in his lungs. He was fairly sure the Jedi had managed to soften some of the scar tissue in his lungs and gut that had been his constant companion since the day he woke up with his skull stapled back together.

Obi-Wan packed them both a bag, woven together by the rich sheets the town’s residents had gifted him. In it went what necessities Obi-Wan could scrounge up, though there wasn’t much besides the simple robes he wore, a few hygiene items, and some medical supplies. He left the gifts and offerings behind, not budging even when Cody revealed his sorry financial situation. He was certain the Force would provide. It was a faith Cody allowed himself to hesitantly share.

He stretched his stiff muscles as they readjusted to the comforting weight of his armor. It felt much the same as always, but the persistent itch between his shoulders blades was gone.

“My ship’s only a few kliks south of here,” Cody said as Obi-Wan tidied up the cottage. There wasn’t much to do – the place was kept almost spotless – but he folded away the nest of blankets and set the pillow back on the bed. The meditation corner he set up for himself was quickly dismantled. In minutes, it was as if no one lived here.

“Clean slate,” Obi-Wan said as he pulled the curtains open, letting the light flood into the room. He hesitated briefly before the last, before flinging it open like the others, letting in a mess of colors and lights like Cody had never seen.

Cody tucked his helmet under his arm as he stepped forward, a hand outstretched to touch what was certainly the results of hundreds of hours of work. Hundreds of glass pieces had been cut and soldered together to depict Obi-Wan in the moments after a battle, the sun at his back, his lightsaber extinguished, his eyes closed as he centered himself, a perfectly serene expression on his face. The artist had added a pair of colorful wings to Obi-Wan’s back that glimmered as the sun passed through the glass before it pooled on the floor in a mesh of hues.

“They loved you,” Cody said.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. His own hand reached out to trace the soldered lines, a labor of love by an artist who must have spent decades practicing their trade before they brought their work here. “Too much, perhaps.”

“They’ll be alright.”

“I know.”

Obi-Wan turned away from the window, the fire finally returning to his eyes. “Well, there’s no time to waste, my dear. Shall we?”

Cody put on his helmet and hefted his bag.

His brothers had been waiting long enough.

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #Star Wars #fanfic #codywanreversebang

60 notes · View notes