#jacen syndulla week 2023

[kanerallels]

Finally, I have a fic worth posting for @jacensyndullaweek! (although I do have one thing that I'm gonna end up posting late that I want to share)

Prompt: Culture/Heritage

Rating: G

Read here on AO3!!

1. Sabine

“Are you sure Ezra’s gonna be okay with this?” Jacen frowned at Sabine as they headed into the cockpit of the New Dawn.

“Rule number one of art as a Mandalorian,” Sabine said. “Never ask. Just do. Unless it’s Hera’s room. Then you ask. Besides, the Dawn needs a little brightening up. No ship should be entirely gray.”

The boy wavered for another second, then grinned. “Okay, cool! Where are we starting?”

“That’s more like it.” Sabine paused, turning in a circle. “That wall,” she said, pointing. “You start there, and I’ll start on the other side.”

“What should I paint?” Jacen asked as she passed him the box full of small finger paint cans she’d bought just for this— it was a good place to start for a beginner.

Pulling out her paint guns, Sabine said, “Whatever you want. If you don’t know, start with a feeling. Or something you know. Just don’t hesitate. When you’re doing graffiti, you need to be confident. Got it?”

Jacen nodded, his eight-year-old face screwed up into a serious expression as he pulled out green and blue paint. “I got it.”

“Good. Let’s get started.”

2. Zeb

“Okay,” Hera said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Zeb recognized this expression— she’d worn it about a thousand times while lecturing him and Ezra back in the day. “Run it past me one more time. How in the name of the Force did you break your arm, Jacen?”

Wincing, Zeb said, “It was an accident, I swear.”

“It was!” Jacen agreed earnestly, struggling to push himself upright in the hospital bed and wincing slightly. Hera pressed her lips into a straight line— never a good sign.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Kanan offered from next to Hera. His expression was serene, and he brushed a gentle palm against Hera’s arm, which seemed to calm her a little bit.

“Right,” Zeb said. “So, I was talking to the kid about some of the old sports they had back on Lasan.”

“And there was this one where the greatest warriors would jump from rock spire to rock spire, show off their climbing skills,” Jacen said, his eyes gleaming. “So I asked Uncle Zeb to show me—”

“—and he asked to try it out—”

“—and I fell,” Jacen concluded.

Throwing her hands in the air, Hera said, “And you didn’t even think about the fact that Jacen could get hurt doing that?”

“Well, Lasat cubs usually didn’t,” Zeb offered. “I guess I forgot that humans have more fragile bones. No offense.”

Kanan let out a choking noise that Zeb immediately knew was a snort of laughter, and hastily disguised it as a cough. Hera shot him a sideways glare, but her expression softened a few seconds later as she sighed.

“Thank you for trying to teach Jacen, but you do need to be careful. Next time, maybe start with something a little easier? Or make sure Kanan or Ezra are there to catch him?”

“Absolutely,” Zeb agreed. 

As Hera turned to talk to the approaching doctor, Jacen leaned towards Zeb. “Can we try it again when my arm gets better?” he whispered.

“Only if you get better at not falling,” Zeb whispered back. “I don’t want your parents to skin me alive.”

“Deal!”

3. Kanan

“Hey, Dad?”

Kanan lifted his head, pulled out of his meditation trance by his son’s voice. Tracking him to the doorway to his and Hera’s room, he waved for him to come in as he said, “What’s going on, kiddo?”

He heard Jacen move into the room and drop down into a similar posture in front of him. “I’m doing this school project— we’re doing family trees,” he explained. “And I need your help.”

Kanan chuckled. “With this family, I’m not surprised. Where’d you get tripped up? Miss an aunt or uncle?”

“Nah,” Jacen said, his matching grin clear in his voice. “Grandparents, actually. I got Grandpa Cham and Grandma Eleni on Mom’s side, but I don’t really know any on your side.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Kanan said, “Well, you and I are in the same boat there, actually. I never knew my biological parents.”

“Okay— so should I just leave it blank?”

Kanan frowned, stroking his beard. “You could,” he said slowly, turning the question over in his mind. It might have been easier just to leave it that way. But the point of these family trees— he assumed— were that the kids didn’t forget where and who they’d come from. The people who’d shaped their lives before those lives had even really begun. “Let me show you something,” he told Jacen, getting to his feet.

He knew the layout of the room well by this time, and it was a matter of ease to step over to the shelf nearby and pull down one of the holodisks stacked there. Turning it on, he let it rest in his palm and held it out to Jacen. “What do you see?”

“Um, two people— a man and a woman. Looks like they’re posing for a picture,” Jacen said. “The woman has braids, and she’s laughing. The guy’s more serious, but he’s smiling a little. He’s taller and bald, looks like he has darker skin than the woman.” He paused, then said, “They’re both wearing Jedi robes. Are these—”

“The woman is my master, Depa Billaba,” Kanan said, turning off the holodisk. “And the man is her master, Mace Windu. A friend recovered this holo for me a year or two ago. It’s the only thing I have left of them.” Reaching out, he pressed it into Jacen’s hand. “They are as close to family as I ever had.”

Jacen was silent for a moment, and Kanan waited, knowing his son was thinking. “Thanks for showing me, Dad,” he finally said.

“Any time, kiddo.”

4. Ezra

“Why are we going here again?”

Ezra glanced at Jacen, who was bouncing on his heels with impatience. “I thought you said we were going to do Jedi stuff,” the fifteen year old pointed out.

“We are going to,” Ezra said truthfully. “We’re just making a stop first.” Looking both ways, he started across the street, keeping one eye on Jacen as he followed him. The kid had finally outgrown his habit of forgetting to look before he leapt— mostly. At the very least, he looked both ways before he crossed the street now.

He was still willing to throw himself headfirst into situations, though, not unlike both of his parents. That included Jedi training, and Ezra knew that he should be just as excited as Jacen was for this.

And he was, really. He was just also pretty sure Kanan had chosen wrong, and that his old master should be training Jacen himself. 

But that wasn’t the point. Right now wasn’t actually about that. Right now was about visiting somewhere he hadn’t been since he’d gotten back from the Unknown Regions, and showing Jacen a new piece of Lothal.

Turning a corner, he spotted the old warehouse. Even just the outside looked different than it had in the years during the war— no guards, and the door was wide open.

He looked at Jacen. “Did your mom and dad ever tell you about this place?” When the boy shook his head, Ezra explained, “During the war, this was where the main black market congregated, particularly around Life Day. I used to come here all the time— mainly when I was by myself, but I came with Kanan and the others a couple times.”

Starting towards the entrance, he continued, “But Lothal doesn’t really need a black market any more— so now it’s just a regular one. One of Lothal’s hidden treasures. I thought you should see it.”

They stopped at the entrance together, and Ezra took in the familiar sights. He recognized some faces— the elderly owner of the stall selling woven blankets, the Gotal who pretended not to notice when he’d stolen a few kebabs every now and then— and noticed others missing. 

The war had changed everything, but they were putting it back together, slowly but surely.

He looked at Jacen, who was taking in the place with wide eyes. “So. Lunch, then training?”

“Sounds good,” the boy said with a grin.

5. Hera

“And you’re sure you’re ready for this?” Hera checked as she, Kanan, and Jacen headed towards the small building awaiting them.

Her son gave her a grin. “Mom, we’ve talked about this like twenty times now. I’m seventeen— I’m ready. You got your tattoos way younger than this.”

Wincing at the memory of the needle’s sting, Hera said, “I know. That’s why I’m checking. I don’t want you to do it just because someone said you couldn’t, like I did. It was terrifying—”

“And you were like eight,” Jacen pointed out. “Of course that would be terrifying. But trust me— I want to do this. I already got Dad’s looks, and I want to honor your side, too.”

Kanan, who’d been silent thus far, spoke up. “He’s right, Hera. Besides, he’s almost eighteen. Even if you put your foot down, he’d only be delaying it for a couple months.”

Letting out a sigh, Hera said, “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“Nope!” Jacen said cheerfully. “Besides, you let Dad get the tattoos.”

“Your father is a full grown man,” Hera said. “And incredibly stubborn, I might add.”

Kanan let out a snort. “I think we all know who the stubborn one is in this relationship, Captain Hera.”

Grabbing the door handle, Jacen said, “Yeah, I know better than to get involved in this argument. Come on— Ivri’s already inside!”

Hera followed his nod to where Jacen’s friend, the half-Mirialan boy with a perpetual smile, was waiting for them next to the Twi’leki tattoo artist. “Alright,” she said reluctantly.

“Go ahead, Jacen,” Kanan told him, catching hold of Hera's arm. “Your mom and I will catch up with you in a minute. Don’t choose anything obscene or too embarrassing while we’re gone, okay?”

Grinning, Jacen said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As he ducked inside, the door swinging shut behind him, Kanan lifted an eyebrow at Hera. “What are the odds of him listening to that?”

“Well he has your genes, so about fifty-fifty.”

“Harsh.” Kanan paused, then said, “You okay about this?”

Unable to hold back a wry smile, Hera said, “You know me well, love. But… yeah, I am. Mostly. It’s just…” she looked through the window where Jacen and his friend were chatting with the Twi’lek. “Our little boy is growing up,” she said with a sigh. “It’s strange.”

“You’re telling me,” Kanan said with a sigh. “At least he’s less likely to shoot himself into the Unknown Regions than the last one is.”

Hera snorted with amusement. “He’d better be, or we’ll be having words.”

“I believe it.” Offering her his arm, Kanan said, “Shall we?”

Taking a deep breath, Hera looped her arm around his. “Okay. Let’s do this.” She let him lead her into the tattoo parlor, trying not to think about just how much her son was growing up.

We’re proud of him, though, she thought with a twinge. And he’s still our son. 

+1. Trill

(set a few weeks before the last chapter of Disproving The Love At First Sight Theory)

Jacen sensed it as soon as Trill woke up. Generally speaking, he wasn’t terribly skilled at sensing living beings— not the way his dad or sister were, and definitely not the way Ezra was. His master was one with the living Force in a way Jacen never had been.

But this didn’t seem to be true for Trill, for whatever reason. Jacen could always sense it when she woke up, and could track her pretty easily throughout the ship. It was like he was attuned to her, more than he was to anyone else.

Sometimes he wondered why that was, but since he was currently living in close quarters with not only her, but also the galaxy’s nosiest Kalleran, he decided not to spend too much time on it.

It was about ten minutes after she woke up that she made her way into the New Dawn’s kitchen. Stifling a yawn, she said, “Morning— what’s that smell?”

“Good morning,” Jacen said cheerfully. “Remember that mysterious package I… picked up on Cantonica yesterday?”

Trill arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean the one that you stole from the hotel and smuggled out under your poncho?”

“That’s the one,” Jacen said. “But the people there are corrupt and tried to kill us like four times, so it doesn’t count. Anyways— behold! Our new waffle maker!”

He flourished a hand at the maker, which stood on the counter, emanating the delicious smell of cooking waffles. Trill frowned at it, then directed the expression at Jacen. “You stole a waffle maker?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing here,” Jacen told her. “Remember, they tried to kill us. But also, yeah. Now we can have waffles for breakfast!”

Settling at the table, Trill swept her loose hair out of her eyes, and Jacen tried to pretend like his gaze hadn’t followed the movement, and lingered for just a moment. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s so important about waffles?”

The iron beeped, and Jacen turned towards it. Rolling up his sleeves, he flipped it open and started to remove the waffle with a fork, responding to Trill’s question as he did.

“It’s a family tradition. My dad makes the best waffles in the galaxy— Uncle Zeb makes the second best, tied with me. We always used to eat them whenever my mom would get back from a dangerous mission, or before Ezra and I would leave, or any special occasion like that.” Maneuvering the waffle onto a plate, he slid it towards Trill. “And I guess… I wanted to share that with you. If you’re interested.”

She looked surprised, in that way she always did whenever Jacen said something like this. It was the kind of surprise that made him think maybe, just maybe… she’d stick around. 

For a minute, Trill held his gaze, then offered him a smile. “I— I am. Thank you.”

Don’t read into it, Jacen ordered himself, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at her smile. Aloud, he said, “Good. Cause I have a feeling Kasmir’s gonna be here soon, and he’ll be hungry. So you’d better get started on that waffle.”

“Will do,” Trill said, hopping up to grab a fork. Turning back to his work, Jacen felt himself grinning. Starting out a day with waffles and Trill? It really couldn’t get much better than that.

[jacensyndullaweek]

Behold, the complete prompt list for Jacen Syndulla Week 2023!

Feel free to combine the prompt pair or only use one prompt! And be sure to tag @jacensyndullaweek so we can reblog your posts - art, fics, gifs, or anything else you can dream up. :)

[incorrectpizza]

Updates: The dates for Jacen Syndulla Week 2023 have been set!

Mark your calendars for June 18th-24th!

And, of course, stay tuned for prompts and further details.

[leiasleftbun]

Ok so I only completed one thing for this week but A for effort. This was made from polymer clay so I could say that I made Clay-nan Jarrus.

[opalknight]

[accidental-spice]

For Jacen Syndulla week day three: Movie/OC friends

Jacen and Trill on a date, stargazing!!

(For anyone who doesn't know who Trill is, I highly recommend checking out @kanerallels fic, Disproving The Love At First Sight Theory. It's amazing)

[jacensyndullaweek]

In the meantime, write some Jacen fic or do some fanart!

It would be cool to see him again.

[galactic-pirates]

Jacen Syndulla, Resistance Fighter

Painted for @jacensyndullaweek 2023. I think this could fall under Day Two - Jedi/Pilot, Day Four - Droids (as I designed him his own), possibly Day Five - Heritage (the legacy angle, and the Kalikori painted on the ship) but no matter what I can call it Day Seven - Free Choice :)

[jacensyndullaweek]

We’ve got just one week left until the start of Jacen Syndulla Week 2023!! You can check out the complete prompts list here. We’re so excited to see what you create!

[jacensyndullaweek]

The Day Two prompt for Jacen Syndulla Week 2023 is Jedi/Pilot!

[jacensyndullaweek]

The Day One prompt for Jacen Syndulla Week 2023 is Family/Father! Stay tuned for a prompt reveal every day this week

[jacensyndullaweek]

The Day Four prompt for Jacen Syndulla Week 2023 is Scene You Wish Was Canon/Alternate Universe!

[jacensyndullaweek]

Jacen Syndulla Week is almost here, and with it, a link to our collection on AO3!! Feel free to add your works here if you're interested! The collection is open and unmoderated, so there's no risk of your works being cut off from other users

[jacensyndullaweek]

The Day Five prompt for Jacen Syndulla Week 2023 is Droids/Pets!

[incorrectpizza]

@jacensyndullaweek is pretty much over - thank you so much to ALL the creators and commenters who made the week fun!

I didn't write as much as I would've liked but I have added quite a few entries to "First" and am calling it complete - for now. If anyone has any ideas for more entries, I'd love to continue it someday.

Fic under the cut for anyone who prefers to read here on Tumblr.

"Dada"

Hera drops the dish she’s washing the first time she hears Jacen say “Dada!”

The plate, made of child-proof plastoid, doesn’t shatter.

Her heart does.

Jacen’s sitting at the table when he says it, playing with the Tooka cat Sabine had made him out of one of Kanan’s old shirts.

Hera stares, watching every movement of Jacen’s tiny fingers. As she analyzes her son’s burbling noise, she wonders if she had heard him correctly.

Then Jacen points at the cat and exclaims “Dada!” again.

It’s all she can do to stay standing.

She inches along the wall from the kitchen to the common room, bracing herself with one hand.Sinking down onto the bench next to Jacen, she rubs the back of his hand and strokes the tooka’s ears with her fingertips.

After over a minute of excruciating silence, she tries to make sense of Jacen’s new word.

“Your tooka is made out of Dada’s shirt.” The raw truth. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Did Sabine tell you that?”

In response to her rhetorical question, Jacen nods while burbling and babbling “Dada” and “Mama” both several more times.

Using the Force

The first time Hera sees Jacen use the Force, she breaks.

She's suspected it for a few weeks - how else could Jacen have retrieved the plushie he tossed from his crib? - but she hoped, prayed she would be wrong. Having a normal child would be easier. Safer.

She wouldn't have to worry about him getting delusions of grandeur and going off to fight a war single-handedly, or dying on some backwater world protecting a few innocents. But watching his favorite green Tooka flying across the room, she can picture a lightsaber hurtling to his hand someday, in some stupid, noble act.

She snatches it away from him, and holds it tight, but he wails and pulls at it again, harder. She can feel the toy pulsing, and it’s one of the strangest sensations she’s ever felt. She loosens her grip and the Tooka returns to Jacen, who immediately returns to giggling.

Seeing his smile only makes it worse. She can’t breathe, can’t stay. Stumbling into Kanan’s old cabin, she clutches one of his shirts and sobs into it. Praying and ranting to her Ryl gods and the Force itself, she pleads for her son and mourns her dream of a peaceful life for him. 

Flying the Ghost

“Mom, mom, can I fly?” 

Hera has absolutely no recollection of the first time Jacen asked her, begged her , to let him take the pilot’s chair. He was no more than three, and in subsequent months and years, the question seems to echo throughout the Ghost every day, whether they’re together or apart.

She does, however, always treasure and remember the first day she finally relents to his pleas. He’s five years old and inquisitive as ever.  They’re taking a joyride after the victory at Endor, a rare reprieve from the fight. Hera has seen enough to know it’s not over - and might not be in her lifetime. But the joyous atmosphere has permeated her so thoroughly she lets herself imagine, for one night, that it is.

When Jacen asks once again, “Can I have a turn, mom?”, she tells him,  “Yes, but you have to be careful, love.” She lets him clamber up on her lap, and he shrieks and giggles. After he’s over his little fit of joy, she lets him “fly” - gently placing his hands above her own.

She loosens her grip, letting him steer the ship. He circles and spins and she gulps down bile for as long as she can before gently retaking control of the Ghost.

"Does this mean I'm a pilot now?" 

She rustles his green hair and places a light kiss on top. "You still have a long way to go, love." 

Date

Jacen goes on his first date when he’s sixteen. Hera gives him a ride to Ryloth to spend a quiet evening with a girl he’s been friends with since the first summer he spent with Cham. 

Hera doesn’t know her well, but she’s heard all about her from Jacen. 

Her name is Melyni, but her friends call her Mel, and she’s seventeen, with purple-pink skin, a few light freckles and a bubbly laugh. She just graduated from high school, early, and she’s leaving Ryloth soon for university. 

Hera walks with Jacen as far as Central Square. From a nearby shop, she watches as he knocks and waits and shakes Mel’s father’s hand. They walk hand-in-hand down to a traditional Twi’leki restaurant, then disappear. She buys a few meilooruns and walks a few blocks to Cham’s little cottage on the outskirts of town. They spend the evening reminiscing of their own young loves.

When Hera makes it back to the Ghost , Jacen’s still not there. She and Chopper wait up until dangerously close to curfew. Jacen comes back with a glint in his eyes she remembers from Kanan’s youth - and a smudge of red on his lip.

She offers him a napkin and he stares at it for several seconds before blushing a brilliant green.

Steps

Jacen’s first steps are not from mother to father, but mother to droid. He’s been testing his legs for weeks, hands gripping onto ledges and chairs. Hera gives him her hands and he wraps his fist tight around two fingers.

And then he takes his first wobbly, independent steps.

Chopper’s on the other side of the Ghost ’s common room, waving his manipulators and beeping some concerns about the ship. Jacen glances over at the droid and wriggles free of Hera’s grasp. He toddles precariously a meter or so, then leans up against Chopper, hands on his dome, and looks back at her, grinning. 

Hera swears she feels a presence beside her, light and joyful, and looks over, half expecting to see Kanan standing there. There’s nothing, of course, but, somehow, she knows he’s watching. Turning back around, she watches as Chopper waves his manipulators, and Jacen claps and shrieks. Jacen’s excitement causes him to grow unsteady again, and he falls flat onto his bottom.

Hera scoops him up, tickles him, and praises him. And for once, she doesn’t cry, doesn’t mourn, just laughs and enjoys her son.

Meeting Ezra

Hera’s sons meet for the first time when they’re six and twenty-four. Ezra returns home with little fanfare, just a hastily-thrown together family dinner. He’s shocked to discover Jacen, but delighted. No longer the baby of their ragtag family, he scoops Jacen up in his arms as Hera tells him that yes, he’s Kanan’s son - a last gift to them from lover and father and friend. 

After the initial surprise wears off, Ezra swiftly steps into his new big brother shoes.

The years have made him more confident. He walks with a bit of humble swagger - not the childish attempt he’d done at fourteen, but real charm. He and Sabine laugh and joke and Jacen begs to see his new lightsaber, which Ezra wisely locks in a cabinet on the Ghost after briefly showing the boy how it lights up. They spend the rest of the day playing games, sparring with practice sticks and meditating.

At the end of the night, they all gather around the common room in Ezra’s tower, Ezra telling story after story from the last six years. Jacen sits scrunched between Hera and Zeb, neck craning over to watch Ezra until his head finally flops onto Hera’s lap. Sabine grabs a tie-dyed blanket and stretches it over him before returning to her seat at Ezra’s side.

“And then, Thrawn said-”

Hera feels herself slowly drifting off to sleep as Ezra’s words blur together. Zeb’s arm creeps around her and he offers Hera a sympathetic grin, inviting her to rest her head on his shoulder. She surrenders, unwilling to disturb Jacen - or leave her family, just this once.

In her last moments of wakefulness, Hera hears a distant wolf howl.

[kanerallels]

For day seven of @jacensyndullaweek!

Prompt: Free day

Rating: G

Read on AO3!!

“Remind me,” Trill said, “why am I the one helping you with this?”

Jacen looked up from his tool box, grinning at her disapproving frown. “Cause you’re nice. And you don’t want either of us to plummet to our doom next time we fly the New Dawn.”

“Fair enough,” Trill said reluctantly as he grabbed a pry bar and wedged it underneath a panel. “But shouldn’t you be asking one of your more mechanically inclined friends to help you with this? I don’t know much about ships. And I’m not nice,” she added.

With a loud clang, the panel popped off, and Jacen pushed it to the side. “You are a different kind of nice,” he informed her, examining the contents. “Pass me the spanner and the wire cutters, please.”

Grabbing the two tools, Trill handed them to him one at a time. As Jacen accepted them, he continued, “Besides, my usual assistants are busy. Poe is off being the poster boy for the Resistance with General Organa, and Ezra and Rex are still off planet.”

“What about Ivri?” Trill asked, wincing as there was a loud zapping sound from inside the panel. Jacen bit back a curse.

“Ow. Okay, so the problem’s not there.” Setting aside the tools, he grabbed the panel as he told Trill, “I don’t trust Ivri around the New Dawn, and I say that with love and respect. His methods of repairs on ships are a little insane.”

“Right,” Trill said, staring as he banged the panel back into place. “Nothing like yours at all.”

Shooting her a wounded look, Jacen said, “He uses the Force on all of it. He’s not hands on at all, and you need to be if you want your ship to run properly. He keeps his A-wing going, but we agreed a long time ago that he’d never work on the Dawn.”

“Fair enough,” Trill said reluctantly. She had to admit, Jacen’s half-Mirialan, half-Chiss friend was peculiar. She hadn’t known what to think when she’d first met him, other than she wasn’t surprised he was Jacen’s best friend.

After getting to know him a little better, she stood by that statement.

“Fine, I’ll help,” she told him, watching as he slid under the ship, popping open another panel and examining the contents. She paused, her gaze lingering for just a minute.

Jacen’s hair was bundled up behind his head, keeping it out of his face as he worked. He was dressed simply in gray pants and a tank top that showed off his tattoos. Trill’s gaze stayed there for a heartbeat longer.

She’d seen his tattoos before— back when they’d been in the prison camp together, when Ren had been stitching him up after the beating. She hadn’t taken much notice back then. She’d been too angry at him and too worried about what would happen next.

But now, she found herself curious. She’d found herself curious about a lot of things about Jacen lately. Which wasn’t normal for her, exactly— but she wanted to know him. To hear even the tiniest details about his life.

It was definitely silly, and she refused to think about why it was. But she indulged herself every now and then.

So, as Jacen hummed a tune to himself, examining the insides of the ship, Trill raised her voice. “Can I ask you something?” she said.

“You just did,” Jacen said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “But I’ll give you another one— pass me that wrench first, please? The one with the tape around the handle.”

Trill sifted through the tools, and located the wrench wrapped in fraying blue tape. Passing it to him, she said, “I’m curious about your tattoos. Is it okay if I ask about them?”

“Hang on,” Jacen grunted, his voice tight with strain. “Almost— KARK!” His final word was accompanied with a loud clang, and a second later, he popped out from under the Dawn. The front of his shirt was sprayed with grease, and there was a matching smear across his forehead.

Looking satisfied, he said, “Clogged valve. We’ll have that fixed in a couple minutes. You want to know about my tattoos?”

“If you don’t mind sharing,” Trill said, feeling a little uncharacteristically hesitant. Are you nervous? Over talking to Jacen, of all people? She thought. He told a First Order admiral that General Fithyhoop was a person, for sky’s sake. Pull yourself together. 

“I don’t mind at all,” Jacen said, grinning easily. Kneeling in front of his tool box, he replaced the wrench and started pulling out a couple more tools. “It’s a good question— they all have a story about them. How much do you know about Twi’leki tattoo culture?”

“Pretty much nothing,” Trill admitted

“I didn’t know much, either,” Jacen said. “But it’s tradition for certain provinces to get tattoos on their leks at a certain age. My gramps got them when he was… fifteen, I think? But plenty of the time it’s even younger. My mom was eight.” Lifting his arm, he ran a finger over the green, curving lines decorating his forearm. “That’s what these are, since I don’t have lekku.”

“They’re beautiful,” Trill told him sincerely.

“Thanks. They’re the only traditional ones I have, but I’ve always thought I might like to get more,” he said. “The Twi’leki people only get them for very important life events, though, so it’ll have to wait. My mom and dad got them at their wedding— Dad has Mom’s lekku patterns, and Mom has his jaig eyes.”

Twisting a little, he tapped the tattoo high on his shoulder— a patch of curving dots and lines, meshing around the shape of a wolf’s head. “This one, Ivri and I both have. Except his has a convor. And then we have this one.”

Jacen hooked a finger in his shirt’s neckline, pulling it down just enough to reveal a small orange shape. “Starbird,” he said with a grin. “Sabine designed it. It’s a Mandalorian style tattoo, so it’s almost more of a brand, not just ink. Here—” reaching out, he caught hold of her hand, lifting it up to press her fingers against his skin. “See? You can feel the difference.”

Caught off guard, Trill was interested in spite of herself as her fingers brushed the raised mark. “That checks out for Mandalorians,” she murmured. “Must have hurt.”

“Says the Mandalorian,” Jacen said. “But yeah, it wasn’t fun.” Trill started to respond as she glanced up— and met his blue-green gaze, startlingly near to her own.

Don’t blush, Trill ordered herself, even as she felt a wave of heat sweeping her face. Do. Not. Blush. But it was hard, standing this close to Jacen, so close she could feel him breathing. She could also see him turning slightly red himself.

Hastily, she stepped back, her hand slipping free from his. “Thank you,” she said, brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “For telling me.”

“Any time,” he said, his voice sounding a little… breathless, almost. Maybe there are some things we need to talk about, Trill thought. Eventually.

But when Jacen spoke again, his tone sounded normal. “Hand me the screwdriver?”

“Sure,” Trill said, pushing the thought out of her mind. It wasn’t time for that conversation, not yet.

So she handed him tools as he worked, and they fell into an easy, comfortable rhythm— Jacen talking intermittently to either her or the ship, Trill shooting back sarcastic comments. It was easy to be around him, even when she wasn’t completely sure where they stood.

She thought their tattoo conversation was over, and had long since moved on to other subjects when Jacen asked, “Do you think you’d ever get a tattoo?”

“Hmm?” Trill glanced at where he was wiping his hands on a cloth, having finished his repairs to the New Dawn. “Oh— I’ve never really thought about it.”

“You should,” he said easily, dropping the cloth back into the toolbox. “I bet it would be a good look for you. We could even get matching ones or something— I’ve been thinking about getting a new tattoo.”

“Didn’t you say your parents had matching tattoos?” Trill asked, before she could think better of it.

He flushed a little before saying, “They had complimentary tattoos, not matching ones. Matching ones is a friendship thing, complimentary is romance.”

“Uh-huh. And don’t Ivri and his girlfriend have matching tattoos?”

“That is hardly the point,” Jacen said, turning a little redder. “I’m trying to ask you a legitimate question here, you know.”

Relenting, Trill said, “Alright, fair enough. I’ll think about it— I don’t even know what I’d get.”

“Well that’s easy,” Jacen said. “Just ask Sabine’s advice. Speaking of whom— I’m gonna check in with Mom and Dad, see if I can’t make them some dinner, and invite Sabine and the kids. Do you want to come?”

“Sure,” Trill said, heading after him as they made their way back to the main part of the Ajan Kloss base. 

For just a moment, her mind lingered on the moment they’d had earlier— a moment which wasn’t unique. There had been more than a few of them lately, and there was a part of Trill that wanted to push farther, to figure out exactly what it meant.

But now wasn’t a good time, what with their battle against the First Order, and Jacen’s sister going missing. Now, she would focus on the next task ahead of her, nothing more.

Apparently, that task was dinner with Jacen’s family. And knowing the extended Syndulla-Jarrus-Wren-Bridger family as she did, Trill had a feeling it would be nothing if not chaotic.

She was already looking forward to it.