#she's the kind that spends most of the days i'm babysitting in her study

[slashingdisneypasta]

Imagine your siblings child referring your F/O as their Uncle/Aunt because you two have been together so long !!

You've been together practically their whole lives, whether your F/O is good with/likes kids, they were always around when you babysat (Because you live together. Maybe they were helping you with your niece/nephew! Maybe they were just watching TV in the same room and got dinner ready so you could continue keeping an eye on the baby. Maybe they hid away in your shared bedroom the whole time but the child always knew they were there), they maybe even went to family gatherings with you!- they have just been a constant in your niece/nephews life. Just like you.

In this kids mind, you and your F/O are a package deal.

[69-toojay]

Back when I binged glee in covid I used to bother my then friend, now ex about all my glee opinions and stuff and we somehow made this running joke that sebastian was a brown boy because why else would someone have so little chill about a school extracurricular right?

It started as a joke, and it's little more than crack even now but the thought of a biracial seb (sebu as we called him) is still funny and it endeared him to me. Through him we'd go on to make fantastical stories about the universe in which he was half brown. I don't know if I need to mention I'm brown too but yeah

The lore went as follows Sebastian's father Arshad Smythe was a second generation south asian immigrant who studied law in France where he met Mrs. Smythe.

we made him the most run of the mill brown dad imaginable and we loved him so much because of it , he was obviously just based on our fathers and uncles and brothers. The people we loved, who loved us in return, the people whose dad jokes and overbearing old timer antics we rolled our eyes at.

Mr and Mrs Smythe alternated living between France and Ohio, where Mr. Smythes childhood home was. It was a dilapidated suburban duplex complete with ugly beige carpeting. But Mr. Smythe just couldn't bear to part with it so he never sold the house or moved out. He would buy his son the best cars and enroll him in the best schools. He'd spend on everything else but he just couldn't change anything about the house his mother had lived in.

Sebastian and his mother understood. She had been important to them too. Samantha Smythe remembered all the times she sat on the floor of this house so the older woman could rub coconut oil into her hair. Sebastian remembered the spicy pickles she cooked in her kitchen, how good they tasted. So they understood.

Burt Hummel was an old friend of Mr. Smythes. He'd babysit Sebastian every once in a while, Santana too. So Kurt, Sebastian and Santana were all friends that got upto fun shenanigans in this world.

Sebastian had a cat called Maribelle, who scratched and bit everyone except for their trio and Mr. Smythe, she was also a mafia boss and an interdimensional/ divine immortal being who had a life of crime on the weekends. He had found her as a stray and begged his dad to let him keep keep her. He did albeit begrudgingly as all dads do, and then quickly became best friends with her as all dads do. I drew cartoons of Kurt and Sebastian as preteens chilling on beach chairs with sunglasses on, in the front yard of Sebastian's grandma's house. Mr Smythe , a portly gentleman with a half bald head with borders of dark hair lining the sides, wearing thick framed glasses would yell at them about their homework to which they'd reply "It's Sunbathe Saturday, Dad!"

Mr Smythe would then grumble and pick up Maribelle who had been in the process of burying a man, unbeknownst to him.

We had so many really specific just brown people things jokes about Sebastian, like him putting 'manja', a type of liquid glass used in competitive kite racing in South Asia in the rock salt slushie. Just him in general being really excited about sharp drinks after his brown cousin back in his home country show him the ropes.

Him being the kind of typical annoying uncultured highschool boy, ' kamla', who hung around coffee shops all day.

Him challenging his father to a game of cards at age eleven by making Mr. Smythe promise if he won he would have to love him unconditionally. Just as he pulled out the last ace he yelled out 'I'm gay but you love unconditionally no take backs!" And ran up the stairs yelling "no take backs!" As santana and kurt blocked mr smythes entrance to the stairway by popping ill timed party poppers.

If Seb ever got into any scuffles with them during play time he'd fire off a flurry of mixed French and Bengali curse causing Kurtana to exchange confused glances like, did you get any of that ?

His early s3 backstory was literally Mr Smythe being a little bit of a tiger parent. But then when he breaks down because of the Dave thing his dad makes amends saying "I want you to be the best at everything seb, and that includes being a person."

The scandals fix it in this universe was Maribelle scratching Blaines eyes out when she overhears about it from kurt and seb discussing it.

I figured later that Mr Smythe must have taken his wife's name because it's hardly a brown name even in Christian circles, to which my ex had replied you only realised now?

There's really no words in English to properly translate the jokes and their cultural significance to us. Parts of brown seb universe bled into my shitposts and fics but I could never part with him fully. Because the world wasn't ready for or interested in him. Since then I've graduated college, I've lost access to the Instagram account we used to text about this world in, and I've lost my ex and I've lost that time in my life, Brown Seb only exists in my memory now. So now maybe it's time to give him to the world so he exists outside of it too. Idk if there are Desi gleeks out there who get the jokes, but til then this post is just for me to remember

[darthmarrsgf]

i wanna just put my arms around you (like the circles going around the sun)

yes i already posted about this, yes i'm posting again bc i'm excited!! elara dorne ilu xoxo <3

read on ao3

* * *

“…seventy-two hours. You deserve it. Report to me when you’re back on board. Garza out.”

Sarena waited until the holo flickered out of view before turning to the rest of the squad with a grin. “You heard the General. I’ll see you all in seventy-two hours. Get the hell off my ship.”

The Captain laughed to herself as she passed Elara, clapping her on the shoulder while Elara’s stomach knotted. “Captain, I—" Elara hesitated, glancing away from Sarena. “I can stay with the ship, if you’d like.”

“It’s fine, Dorne. I’m not going to make you babysit. Forex can do it.” Sarena frowned, sharp eyes flickering over Elara’s drawn features as she turned back to face her. “Unless you— You want to stay?”

“I, ah— I don’t really have anywhere to stay planetside besides the barracks anyway, and—" Don’t make me say it, she thought. Even if I did, I don’t have any friends to see. She looked down at her hands, frustrated by her own visible uncertainty.

“Oh. Well—" Sarena shrugged. “If you’re set on staying here, I won’t stop you, but there aren’t many places better for a few days of leave than Coruscant. You spent much time here?”

“Hardly any, sir. I suppose I could—" Elara faltered. The city shouldn’t be any more intimidating than Dromund Kaas, she reasoned, but so little of her life in the Republic had been spent outside the strict regimen of her life in the military.

Sarena rested a hand on Elara’s shoulder. “Like I said, Sergeant, I don’t mind if you want to stay here, but I don’t want you bored out of your mind. Or trapped and listening to Forex rant,” she added with a grimace.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Elara muttered mostly to herself, though she was pleased that the comment elicited a laugh from the Captain.

“Look, there’s a place I usually stay when we get time off here. Quiet, but close enough to the action. I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you wanted.” She arched an eyebrow for emphasis, studying Elara with an expression she couldn’t quite parse.

“I— Alright.” Elara nodded decisively before she could give herself a chance to reconsider. “That would be… very kind of you.”

Sarena rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me sound like a martyr, Dorne. I like spending time with you.”

Thankfully, she turned away before Elara’s expression transformed into what she could only imagine was absolute shock. She couldn’t remember anyone saying that to her in twenty seven years, and the fact that it was Sarena—

“Five minutes, Sergeant. Get your stuff, and we’ll get out of here.”

* * *

“Bags, then beer,” Sarena had declared when they stepped out of the airlock, seemingly confident that no other explanation was required. Though Elara preferred to maintain a detailed itinerary when traveling, she had simply nodded and followed behind Sarena as she led them out of the spaceport and onto a taxi bound for their hotel. As their taxi sped toward the city center, Elara flexed her calf to stop her leg from bouncing. It wasn’t being alone with the other woman that stoked her nerves—if anything, she realized, that was the one thing that gave her any sense of certainty. Coruscant was enormous, dizzyingly so, but Elara decided she had absolute faith in whatever Sarena decided the weekend would hold.

The room Sarena ultimately led her to was more upscale than Elara expected—the Captain had always struck her as unflaggingly practical and unpretentious, often sacrificing her own comfort for the sake of the rest of the squad in ways that Elara was sure she didn’t even notice. But the sleek surfaces and plush linens of their weekend lodging just edged on indulgence, and the small insight into the Captain’s taste gave Elara an inexplicable thrill.

Elara stepped over to the other side of the room, peering out the window that took up most of the far wall. “Well, this is certainly a step up from the barracks.”

“Can’t say I miss those days.” Sarena snorted and unzipped her bag, which Elara took as her cue to start changing her clothes.

After she pulled on her jacket, Elara shook her hair free, rearranging it into a looser ponytail. Giving her reflection a final once-over in the mirror hanging across from the beds, she noticed Sarena’s eyes on her from where she leaned against the doorway.

“Seemed a bit severe. I never wear it like this. I should just cut it all off, but… It’s really just vanity, I suppose.”

“It looks nice,” Sarena said with a smirk, the compliment sending a jolt of something racing down Elara’s spine. She was determined not to read too much into such an innocuous comment, but she still couldn’t stop her lips from quirking into a small smile as they left the room.

It felt undeniably strange to be walking next to Sarena at such a leisurely pace, but Elara still felt her earlier apprehension begin to fade. For the next three days, they could just be themselves, without the physical and mental burden of the armor that was usually between them. She wants to spend time with you, Elara reminded herself, letting the thought bolster her confidence as they wound through the busy streets.

“Doesn’t look like much, because it isn’t, but it’s nice to just be left alone sometimes,” Sarena explained with a shrug while they descended the flight of stairs leading to the cantina’s entrance.

“Fair enough.” Elara couldn’t help but wonder what it meant that she was apparently an exception to that desire.

Sarena was right—the bartender was friendly and seemed to remember her from her earlier visits, but otherwise, no one even turned a head as the two women passed their tables. Elara hadn’t expected to feel so at ease in a poorly lit bar with questionably sticky floors, but she supposed it was just further proof positive of Sarena’s instincts.

“Cheers,” Sarena offered after they had both settled into a booth.

“And what are we toasting to?” Elara gamely raised her glass, careful not to spill any of the drink Sarena had paid for on the table.

Sarena grinned. “To a weekend without Garza’s orders or Aric’s snoring.”

As their glasses clinked, Elara suppressed a snort.

“Where did Jorgan go?” She frowned, running the afternoon back through her mind. “I don’t even remember seeing him after you ended the call.”

“He did that last time, too. Felt like an interrogation, but I finally got him to admit that he’s got a friend. The kind of friend you spend all your free time with when you’re not getting blasted around the galaxy.”

Elara laughed. “Good for him, then.”

“What about you, Dorne? Got a boyfriend?” As Sarena tipped her head back and took a pull of her beer, Elara did her best to avoid locking her gaze on the long line of the woman’s neck.

Elara sipped her drink. “No, sir.”

“Girlfriend?”

Elara hoped the heat that flooded her face wasn’t visible in the low light. “No— no girlfriend, either, at ah—not at the moment. I haven’t— Well. Most of my colleagues on Taris weren’t particularly interested in spending time with me.” Sarena frowned, prompting Elara to move on in hopes of avoiding any more probing questions. “You?”

The Captain shook her head and picked at the label on her bottle. “No girlfriend. No anybody. Not in a long time.”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “What about Agent Balker?”

Sarena laughed. “Jonas? No. He’s fun to mess around with, but we never— it’s not serious for either of us. I don’t really do ‘serious’ with men.” Her tone was casual, almost conspicuously so—Elara was certain she was searching for something, and she wanted to make sure the impression she gave was authentic.

“I don’t—I don’t think I do either.” Elara grimaced inadvertently at the thought as she ran down the list, short though it was, of former entanglements. She knew she’d never been in love, not yet, but when she tried to imagine it, it was never a man who she envisioned as her ideal partner—it was a woman, and recently, it had become a tall, muscular woman with black hair and teasing brown eyes.

“Good to know.”

Elara’s heart raced at the captain’s small, approving smirk. It is? She wanted to ask, but stopped herself just before the words tripped over her tongue. This, whatever this was— she didn’t think she was imagining it, but she didn’t want to ruin it, either. Instead, she just smiled into her glass.

After a moment of quiet consideration stretched between them, Sarena met Elara’s eyes.

“I know—" She sighed, brows furrowing. “There’s… Look. I know this hasn’t been easy. I’ve seen the way people talk to you because of where you’re… from. What they think your past was like. You never complain about it. Maybe I’m just projecting. But I just wanted you to know—I don’t like it. And I won’t tolerate it. You’re an amazing soldier, and you’re a good person. And I just—I hope you know you have a place here. With us. We’re— I’m lucky to have you.”

The silence returned for a breath as Elara blinked, doing her best to dispel the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “Captain, I—"

“Sorry,” Sarena interjected with a grimace, quickly breaking eye contact. “If I’m not careful, I turn into a sap. Ask anybody in my old squad. But I— I mean it. Just know that.”

“No, I— Thank you. Truly. You have no idea how much…” Elara sighed, taking a final swallow of her drink while she tried to compose her thoughts. “When you offered me a spot with you on Taris, I almost—I could have collapsed with relief. I was good at my job, I know I was, and there were a few people who didn’t treat me with outright derision. But over a year of that, constantly— It was wearing on me. I’d like to think I was good at hiding it, but… It hurt. Badly. And knowing that now I can just… do my job, and support you, and that’s enough, is— It’s been even more liberating than I could have imagined.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Dorne. Really. And I promise I won’t spring any more heartfelt conversations on you tonight.”

Elara laughed. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, and to feel… appreciated.”

“Of course I appreciate you,” Sarena said with a huff. “Most of us would be down a limb if it weren’t for you.”

“I do try to keep you all in one piece, despite how difficult you make it.”

Sarena gestured to Elara’s empty glass. “Another round?”

Elara almost reflexively declined—she liked to think of herself, in general, as restrained, but— Well. The Captain was offering, and it was the only guaranteed free time she’d have until Maker knew when.

“Yes, thank you.”

After Sarena waved their server over and placed their order, Elara tilted her head in consideration.

“So… aside from drinking, what all do you do here?”

Sarena’s dark eyes glittered as she leaned forward. “You ever been to a swoop race?”

* * *

Elara, as it turned out, had not been to a swoop race, and Sarena was privately relishing the opportunity to show her the exact kind of controlled chaos they embodied.

After a quick detour at a nearby market for food, which Elara insisted on paying for, the pair headed off on foot. The weather was surprisingly pleasant—clear, cool, and just breezy enough to make the city air feel less stagnant than it usually did. Not for the first time, Sarena noted how much smaller Elara seemed without her armor. She was undeniably strong, and Sarena knew she kept herself in excellent physical condition, but there was something about her that looked far more graceful than Sarena ever felt.

As they approached the track, the captain couldn’t help but feel endeared to the way Elara’s blue eyes widened. “Is it always this… busy?”

Sarena assessed the throngs of fans streaming into the stands. “A night like tonight, at the end of the week? Sure.” She glanced back at Elara. “If it’s too much, just let me know. We can step out and get some air.”

Elara nodded resolutely. Damn, she’s cute. Sarena forced herself to fix her gaze in front of her as they stepped inside.

“And don’t get lost,” she cautioned. She resisted the urge to grab Elara’s hand—though, to her surprise, she felt the barest brush of the woman’s fingers on her elbow.

“Then don’t lose me,” Elara countered. “Although you seem to have forgotten you’re still half a head taller than most people. I don’t think it’d be hard to find you.”

“Are you teasing me, Dorne?”

“I suppose it depends, Captain.” Sarena didn’t miss the satisfied smirk that played at the edges of Elara’s lips.

“On what?”

Elara shrugged. “On whether or not you like being teased.”

Sarena swore she felt her heart stutter—there was no way the other woman wasn’t flirting, she reasoned, trying to ignore the way the thought sent a jolt through her body.

“Guess that’s a yes, then.” She tried to keep her voice as level as she could, aiming for the offhand tone she had maintained earlier that evening when probing the status of Elara’s personal life.

“I guess it is.”

Another zap of electricity surged through Sarena as she felt Elara’s hand close firmly over her elbow. At this rate, it was going to be a miracle if she made it back to the hotel without saying—or certainly imagining—something wholly inappropriate.

When they reached the portion of the stands Sarena preferred—close enough to follow the action, but a few sections away from the diehard fans and enthusiastic gamblers—Sarena turned to her companion. “You want something to drink? On me.”

She wasn’t anticipating the way Elara’s face blanched. “Oh, I, ah—I can just go with you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Elara. I don’t mind paying for—" She paused, registering the way Elara’s grip on her elbow had tightened. “Are you okay?”

Elara glanced down, quickly releasing Sarena’s arm as she blinked in surprise. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “But if I’m alone, and someone tries to talk to me—" As if on cue, a man brushed past her with a thoroughly unnecessary ‘‘Scuse me, sweetheart.’

“My accent,” she hissed.

“Oh. I— You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. C’mon, I’ll show you where the bar’s at.”

As they wove through the crowd, Sarena couldn’t stop replaying Elara’s comment in her mind. “You know,” she said, clearing a path between two onlookers with a determined shoulder, “If someone gives you a hard time, I’ll deal with them.”

Elara rolled her eyes. “Yes, Captain, that’s very noble of you. But I’d prefer to just avoid any altercations, especially if it meant I’d have to spend my evening stitching you up.”

“What, you don’t like spending time together? Besides, I’d like to think the other guy would be the one needing stitches.” Sarena gestured at the bartender, who immediately jutted his chin in acknowledgement and walked over to take her order.

“You’re not exactly a model patient, Captain,” Elara mused, accepting the bottle Sarena passed her with a nod.

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me Captain. You know my name. You can use it.”

Elara looked poised to argue, brows already angled, but she seemed to lose her train of thought as soon as she took a sip of the drink Sarena had handed her.

“Stars, what is this?” Elara’s delicate features twisted into a grimace as she swallowed.

“It’s cheap,” Sarena said with a shrug, taking a swig and hoping Elara didn’t notice her eyes water. Every time she did this, she somehow forgot that it usually took at least two drinks to get used to the taste.

“Let me buy the next round. I think we’ve earned a middle-shelf selection, if nothing else.”

“Tell you what—you a betting woman, Dorne?”

“Gambling, Captain? I’m sure you can imagine that every dutiful Imperial citizen, which I was until very recently, has far better discretion than to—" Elara stopped herself with a sharp laugh as Sarena rolled her eyes, tilting her bottle up to her mouth in an attempt to hide her smile.

Thankfully, it was a poor attempt, and Sarena took another sip of her drink to pull her attention away from the curve of Elara’s lips.

“You’ve got five minutes to read up and tell me who you think will be ahead at the end of the first stage. Loser buys the next round.”

“It’s a deal, Captain. Though I’d warn you against underestimating me.”

Sarena nudged Elara’s elbow with her own. “I never do, Dorne. I never do.”

* * *

Several hours and ill-fated wagers later, Sarena offered a final credit chip to Elara with a sigh. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Keep it. You can buy dinner tomorrow night. Besides,” Elara added, grinning up at Sarena as they exited the arena, “It does feel a bit like gloating, at this point.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Sergeant. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

Elara laughed. “Thank you.” Her uninhibited smile filled Sarena’s chest with a painful mix of attraction and bittersweet joy as she glanced down. “For bringing me. I had— I had fun. I can’t remember the last time I did something like that.”

“I’m glad you had a good time.” Sarena averted her eyes, focusing on the ground for a moment before continuing. “I’m glad you didn’t stay on the ship.”

“Me too,” Elara agreed softly, moving just close enough to Sarena that their arms pressed together. Even through the layers of fabric separating them, the feeling of Elara’s body fitted next to hers made Sarena flush.

“Coruscant really is impressive.” Elara nodded toward the skyline, buildings glittering with neon lights.

“It is, especially when you compare it to—” Sarena paused, considering the worlds they’d visited so far. “Well. I guess… most of the Republic. But don’t repeat that.”

Elara laughed. “My point of comparison is Dromund Kaas, so I’ll admit my standards are a bit low. I’ve been surprised by how little I miss it, to be honest.”

“Really?” Sarena glanced at Elara, eyebrows raised.

“There are people I miss, certain foods or shops, sometimes, but the city itself— I don’t think I realized it until I’d been gone for almost half a year, but there’s an energy about it that feels… unnatural. The weather— I’m sure you’ve heard about the lightning and the storms. It’s constant. They say the Sith caused it.”

“You deal with them much?” Sarena asked. For all the trouble the Jedi tended to cause the Republic military, it had always seemed like the Sith were even more prone to meddling, with a particularly bloodthirsty bent.

“Never on my own, thankfully. The Sith are… strange. From what I’ve heard of their training and initiation, it takes a particularly ruthless kind of individual to succeed.” Elara frowned. “I can’t imagine how my life would have proceeded had I been Force-sensitive. I’d either be dead, or someone completely different.”

Sarena leaned in enough to jostle Elara’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re alive. And you.”

Elara smiled and ducked her head. “I am, too.”

As they continued their walk back toward the center of the city, Sarena turned to her companion. “What do you think, Dorne? You got enough in you for one more stop?”

“I believe I do, Captain.”

For the second time that evening, Sarena resisted the urge to take Elara’s hand. It should have never even crossed her mind, let alone seem like it would be so easy—but it did, and Sarena felt helpless in the wake of her own yearning.

She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket instead, determined not to overstep any boundaries despite her lingering optimism. “Just a couple more blocks.”

When they reached the arboretum, Sarena allowed herself to indulge in a private moment of triumph as Elara gasped.

“Oh, this is— I had no idea there were places like this in the city,” she said, craning her neck to take in the trees that stretched overhead.

Sarena grinned and nodded toward the western edge of the park. “C’mon. There’s a spot I want to show you.” Elara trailed behind her, pausing occasionally to study some of the flowers blooming around them.

Though it was several hours past sundown, they passed a few couples ambling along the paths in the moonlight, heads tipped close and fingers intertwined. It was quiet, peaceful—starkly unlike most of the places she and Elara spent their time. Sarena forced back another wave of longing. Did the others assume she and Elara were together, too? Or was the restraint Sarena forced into her body language too obvious, too awkward for the pair to appear as anything but friends?

When they reached the overlook, Sarena turned back to her companion, who was gesturing excitedly at a bush they had just passed.

“Did you know that before the discovery of kolto, the sap from these was used as an anticoagulant during— Oh.” Elara paused when she arrived at Sarena’s side, eyes widening as she took in the view before them. “It’s beautiful, Captain.”

“Sarena,” she corrected. “Got turned around one time and ended up here. Sometimes I still come back.” By myself, she wanted to add. I’ve never brought anyone else here. I’ve never wanted to.

Much like it had Elara, the corner of the park overlooking the sprawling city had stopped Sarena in her tracks during that first accidental visit. She had ended up staying for nearly an hour, lost in her own thoughts as she watched the vibrant yellows and oranges of the sunset crescendo and fade. Even though it was well past nightfall this time, the view of the city was just as impressive.

“I can see why,” Elara said. “Can we— Let’s just sit, for a moment.”

As they settled next to each other, Sarena allowed herself a quick glance at the other woman, pleased by her easy smile.

Elara shifted until she was half-facing Sarena. “Captain…”

“Sarena.”

“Sarena. Why do you like spending time with me?”

“What?” Sarena’s stomach fluttered at the sound of her name, but the twinge of pleasure was overshadowed by her confusion.

“You said you… You said you like spending time with me. No one’s ever said that to me before. At least, not since I joined the military. And I know why. I’m uptight, and I’m—strict, too strict, but—"

“Stop. Don’t say that.”

Elara waved her off. “I’ve heard it all. Inflexible. Cold. Killjoy. All of those, combined with ‘bitch.’” She laughed, the sound joyless as it passed her lips. “You can’t protect me from it. I’ve already heard it.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try. I’m not going to let you repeat that shit like it’s true. You’re—okay. Yeah. You’re a little uptight. But that’s not always a bad thing. What we do is serious. If we fuck up, people die. You don’t take that responsibility lightly. I’ve seen it.” Sarena hesitated before shifting her hips, moving close enough to Elara that their thighs nearly touched.

“But that’s just— It’s part of who you are,” she continued. “Like the way Aric insists on inspecting all our weapons when he doesn’t really need to. I could stop him, you know. But I choose not to. It’s how you take care of your people. Gives you peace of mind. And I admire that as much as I admire all the other weird shit everyone else does to keep us all in one piece.” She glanced down at Elara, who was pretending to be occupied studying her own hands.

“Thank you,” Elara murmured. “It’s— It’s nice to feel like someone understands. I’ve always been particular, even before I came to the Republic, but my goal isn’t to be pedantic. I saw what happened when good men let the Sith use them like mercenaries. I saw how quickly things could unravel when we ignored protocol. I just—" She sighed, raising her gaze to stare into the distance. “It’s my responsibility to keep myself and the situation under control. To know exactly where it could go wrong, and how I would fix it. If a mission failed, if you were injured because of an oversight I could have prevented, I— I don’t know how I’d forgive myself.”

You. The specificity didn’t escape Sarena’s notice. “That’s a lot to put on yourself.”

Elara shrugged. “You’re the one who said it—what we do is dangerous. Mistakes are deadly.”

“I know, but it goes the other way, too. You can’t control everything. You don’t deserve that pressure. No matter how much you feel like you have to make up for—you don’t have anything to prove to me, Elara.”

Elara huffed, a sound that Sarena thought was supposed to be a laugh but was undermined by the kind of sharp inhale that usually accompanied tears. “I thought you said there wouldn’t be any more heartfelt conversations tonight.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Sarena countered. “And I didn’t answer your question—”

“You don’t have to—” Elara waved her hand in dismissal.

“—I want to. I like spending time with you because you’re— you’re you. You’re smart, you’re funny, you care. You’re a good soldier, but you’re compassionate. I think those are harder to balance than some people realize, but you’re— you’re good at it. It helps. Sometimes, I—” Sarena tilted her head, weighing the best way to capture a thought she had never dared share aloud. “I wonder if we can ever win. Sometimes, it's just… It doesn’t feel like what we do makes any difference when the Jedi and Sith keep trying to tear each other apart, and we’ll never live in a galaxy where there’s actually peace. But you— You make me feel like it’s possible. Even if it’s not tomorrow. If we’re not even alive to see it.”

She picked at a loose thread on the cuff of her jacket. “Everything you had to do, had to leave behind—I don’t know if I could have done it. If my conviction alone would have been enough to start all over like you did. I’ve never known anyone with that kind of willpower. And I hope you realize how special it is. So… that’s why.” Sarena shrugged and looked pointedly away from Elara.

“I don’t—” Elara’s words were quiet when they finally came. “I had decided that everything you said earlier this evening were the nicest things anyone had ever said to me, but I think you’ve outdone yourself.”

There was a distinct wobble to the last word, and Sarena was unsure if she should acknowledge it or not. Before she had a chance to decide, Elara turned to her with a wry smile.

“I promise I’m not always this critical of myself. I know my own motivations, and that’s all that should matter. But—it’s nice to finally have someone in my corner, so to speak.”

“I don’t take that for granted, Elara. I’ll always back you up.” Sarena shrugged. “And the corner can be literal, if you want. I boxed a few rounds here and there for some cash before I joined up.”

Elara laughed, a musical burst that broke the tension. “Boxed. I’ve spent far too much time talking about myself tonight, and I’ve a feeling your stories are much more interesting. If you don’t mind sharing, of course,” she said, adding the last part in a rush.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be sick of hearing me talk by the time leave is up.” The irrepressible fluttering in Sarena’s stomach had returned, encouraged by Elara’s candor. She shivered, the breeze skating across the back of her neck distracting her from her thoughts. “I’m cold, so I’m guessing you’re probably freezing. Ready to head back?”

“I would argue, but you’re right.”

Sarena grinned, offering Elara a hand as she stood. Sarena tried not to dwell on the sensation of their palms pressed together—tried, and mostly failed, but she told herself it was the effort that mattered.

By the time they arrived back at the room, Sarena was aching to remove the clothing that kept them apart and learn what every part of Elara’s body would feel like under her hands. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t make her feel pressured. It was the last thing Elara needed. If she wanted this, Sarena was more than ready—but it had to be her choice.

* * *

Elara gripped the edge of the sink, toothbrush moving in slow circles as she tracked Sarena’s movement in the reflection before her. She felt certain she wasn’t imagining the tension that continued to build even in the companionable silence. The way Sarena had leaned into Elara’s touch and occupied her space all evening; the way she paid for her drinks; the private jokes and comments she had whispered just for Elara to hear… It pushed just past the boundaries of the propriety she had always seen Sarena maintain when they were on duty. It must mean something.

Her heart galloped in her chest as Sarena stepped next to her at the double sink, stripped down to her bra and a pair of exercise shorts that hugged the impressive muscles of her thighs. As she drank in the sight of Sarena’s bare skin, Elara’s mind flashed back to their conversation from weeks ago. You can ask, you know.

Before she could lose the nerve, Elara reached out and gently brushed her fingertips over the elaborate geometric design that covered Sarena’s arm from her shoulder to her elbow. “Your tattoos—do the designs have a special meaning?” Elara inquired softly, carefully cataloging the way Sarena stilled under her touch but made no move to break the contact.

“That one does,” she said, meeting Elara’s gaze in the mirror. “So does this one.” She moved her arm and, with her free hand, guided Elara’s fingers to the skin on the side of her rib cage. Slowly, deliberately, Elara traced over the refracted pattern with a firm touch. She studied Sarena’s reflection, heart racing as she watched the other woman’s eyelids drift shut.

“And what are they?” she asked, willing her voice to stay steady. Keeping her hand grounded on Sarena’s skin, she turned to face her.

Sarena mirrored her movement, stepping far enough into Elara’s personal space that Elara had to tilt her chin up to meet Sarena’s eyes.

“Where my mother is from, women are tattooed to honor important events. I got the one on my arm when I joined the military, and the one on my side when I received my first commendation.” Sarena’s eyes skated over Elara’s face, and she refused to back down from her gaze.

“What about this one?” Elara reached up to Sarena’s brow, shivering with satisfaction as Sarena leaned into the touch Elara trailed over her tattooed cheekbone.

“That was my first one. I was fifteen, and I finished the initiation that marks you as a warrior. A woman.”

Elara smiled softly, brushing her thumb over the soft skin of Sarena’s jaw. “They’re beautiful.” Her heart stuttered in her chest, but she refused to succumb to her nerves. “Just like the woman who wears them.”

“Elara…” Sarena’s voice was low, warning, as she swayed even closer.

“Sarena,” she murmured in response, suppressing an exclamation of delight as she felt a warm hand settle over the small of her back.

“I need— You have to tell me. I need you to tell me you want this.”

“I want this. I want you.” As Elara brought her other hand to cup Sarena’s jaw, her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Kiss me.”

With her assent, Sarena surged forward, pressing their bodies together as her lips found Elara’s. Elara moaned softly into Sarena’s mouth, heart racing as she deepened the kiss and their tongues met.

Elara whimpered in protest when Sarena pulled away, but the woman continued to hold her tightly, gently worrying Elara’s bottom lip between her teeth before pausing. “I’m— is this—" Sarena frowned and forced an exhale through her nose. “Is this okay?”

“This is perfect,” Elara said, tilting her chin to recapture Sarena’s mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss.

That seemed to be enough reassurance for Sarena, whose fingertips dug into Elara’s back and hip just enough to stoke the heat building between her legs. She kissed like no one Elara had ever kissed before—eager, tactile, and overwhelming in the most pleasurable way she could imagine. The warmth of her hands danced over Elara’s arms and back, leaving her skin flushed and tingling in their wake.

When they paused so both women could take a breath, Elara ran an experimental hand down Sarena’s side.

“What?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you smiling about, Dorne?” Sarena punctuated her question with a quick kiss to Elara’s temple.

“Oh, I was just thinking—I’m quite glad we were able to establish the situation we’re in now, while we still have the majority of the weekend available to… enjoy one another’s company. By my count, we still have approximately sixty two hours before we’re due to report back.”

“Sixty two hours, huh? Not as much to work with as I’d like, but I’ll do my best to show you a good time.”

Elara brushed her fingers over Sarena’s cheek, tracing the other woman’s jaw with gentle fingertips. “Tonight was lovely, and I’m certainly looking forward to whatever you come up with next.”

Sarena’s eyes narrowed as she studied Elara’s face with a grin.

“When’s the last time you went dancing?”