#so shame upon shame upon shame for obi-wan here

[aspentreewrites]

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 3

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (for current arc) slow burn, fake dating, only one bed, general angst and pining, realising feelings, Cody is having a breakdown, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Link to read on AO3 here!

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

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A/N: Oh, Cody, we're really in it now. Happy holidays! It's been a tough end to the year, but everyone who's been so kind and left such lovely comments on here and on my AO3 have really been keeping me going :') thank you so much for reading so far!

As always, thank you so much to @whenyourfavouritedies (their AO3 link here) for beta reading!

Wordcount: 8.9k

Prev chapters: 1, 2

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The General and the Commander get a good deal of work done together that evening.

Their first order of business is checking in with Gregor about the state of the files they’d sent across - it seems they’re encoded, which isn’t much of a surprise, and will take a little while to fully decipher. A few select members of the 212th who can be trusted to keep quiet are already on it, and expect to have it cracked within the week.

Next comes the important affair of discussing the follow-up steps of the mission, particularly how they’re going to proceed with information gathering after facing Barrek directly, in a… less than subtle encounter. They aren’t able to come to a definite conclusion this evening.

Finally, they once more go over their guesses on what the deal they’re here to disrupt is actually likely to be. Knowing that it’ll be weapons related helps narrow it down, but not by much.

They trade dry comments about the state of things, about how much they’re already looking forward to getting back to normality once this is over. Obi-Wan makes a few comments about the state of the room’s provided caf machine - though he’s quick to mention that it’s still above the standard of some of the GAR-supplied requisitions.

The one thing they don’t speak of, is the kiss. 

A few times throughout the night the odd, thick tension rears its head. Cody catches the Jedi’s eyes lingering on him with a strange expression more than once, always glancing away when their gazes meet. 

Each time, it makes Cody wince. White, hot shame crawls across his skin before he has the time to shove it down, prickling beneath his collar. Cody knows - Force, how he knows - that Obi-Wan sensed more than he should have, earlier. To call it ‘mortifying’ would be an understatement.

It’ll pass, he tells himself. A lapse of judgement and concentration that he can make up for by performing professionally and exceptionally in the field, as often as he can from this point onwards. 

With any luck, his General will have pity on him and forget about the whole thing.

Rather robotically, Cody finds himself getting ready for bed that night. He goes through the motions of getting changed, all the while trying very, very hard to not think back to the feeling of Obi-Wan’s mouth on his. 

Stars above, he’s never been kissed so carefully, so gently. 

Because it wasn’t real, the voice in his head reminds him, sounding particularly bitter. Because it was a strictly professional necessity.

The thought makes his stomach twist, his heart aching with a longing that he knows, intrinsically, will be incredibly tricky to sate. It’s one thing to have feelings for someone, knowing they can never be acted upon… it’s another thing entirely to experience a taste of what could be, if only everything were different.

If not for the fact that Cody is certain that it’s unrequited, if not for the war…

Cody can’t help but let out a heavy sigh. If not for the war, he wouldn’t exist at all. The reminder is a lead weight upon his soul, albeit an old and familiar one. 

He’s a man whose hands were engineered to be bloody, he’s come to be at peace with that.

Despite it all, sometimes he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be nat-born. To exist for the sole purpose of living, not for taking life.

To be someone that could be allowed to love, and be loved in return.

Perhaps that version of Cody, unburdened by the war and the weight of expectation, would have the courage to go after the things he wants.

To tell Obi-Wan how he feels…

Cody wrinkles his nose. He’s being far too sentimental and dramatic over something that doesn’t need to be such a big deal. They’re just… feelings. He can live with that.

The two men settle in to attempt sleep that night, firmly keeping to their opposite sides of the bed. An unspoken rift of tension has opened up between them, and Cody doesn’t quite know where to start in broaching it. 

Perhaps the morning will bring clarity. It usually does.

With a deep exhale, the Commander closes his eyes, willing himself to shut off his mind and rest. 

The moons have risen high enough in the sky by now that their light permeates gently through the thin curtains of the hotel room, creating a uniquely soothing atmosphere. 

Cody, like most of the vode, is far more used to the artificial darkness of a sleeping pod than natural moonlight. Some of his brothers struggle to relax under the light of the real stars, finding it far too bright, but never him. In his mind, no fluorescent recreation is ever a substitute for the real thing.

He focuses on that light, on the repetitious sound of waves lapping at the shore outside, and allows himself to let go, as much as he is able.

When the morning comes, Cody isn’t afforded the luxury of a gentle awakening.

Rather, the sound of a scream startles him into consciousness. His hand moves without deliberate input, closing around the blaster on his nightstand even before his eyes have fully opened. When they do, his gaze is sharp, deadly - a trained killer, alert and hunting for the enemy. 

… The enemy that appears to be a distressed child outside who’d dropped their ice cream. 

With a slow exhale, Cody’s grip on the pistol loosens, setting it back down as his shoulders slump, just a little. 

He glances around the room as his heart rate calms, his eyes settling on the source of the sound - the open balcony door, much wider than they’d left it last night. That’s odd.

His gaze automatically shifts to Obi-Wan in concern - or, rather, where Obi-Wan should be. Instead, he finds himself staring at an empty side of the bed. 

The Jedi being up before him explains the balcony being open at least, though Cody can’t deny that the smallest flicker of disappointment that wells up within him at the sight. 

He tamps it down swiftly.

Cody has kicked himself into his normal alertness, showered and dressed for the day by the time the Obi-Wan returns. The other man is as calm and steady as he always seems to be, balancing two bowls in the crook of one arm and two mugs of caf in another as he steps through the threshold of their room. 

For the briefest of moments, Cody stills, quietly remembering that he doesn’t quite know how to approach today. 

And then Obi-Wan turns to face the door behind him with a scrunched brow, and any hesitation in Cody is immediately overridden by the sight of his general in need of rescue.

“Had a trip to find breakfast?��� he finds the words to ask, heading over to offer aid for the precarious crockery situation. Obi-Wan hums appreciatively in response, gratefully allowing the other man to take a bowl and both mugs from him, slipping the door closed with his now-free hand.

“Thank you. Yes, I bought some fruit from the kitchens downstairs. They were supposed to be complementary, apparently, but they still somehow weaseled some credits from me. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Ah, so they’re pretending that nothing happened last night. Cody finds himself considerably relieved - he can work with that.

“Beats ration bars,” he returns with a shrug, eyeing the offerings with cautious interest. Even if the rest of the food here was definitely over-complicated and over-priced, they surely couldn’t go too wrong with preparing fruit. He sets the mugs on the sideboard to better investigate.

“... How did they get you to give them money?”

Obi-Wan grimaces. “The staff said it was a ‘charitable donation’.”

Cody can’t help the way his mouth twitches into a smirk..

“Uh-huh.”

“... To go towards their Life Day bonuses.”

“There it is.”

Obi-Wan frowns, looking defensive even as he pops a grape into his mouth. 

“If they say it’s for charity, I can’t very well go ignoring their request,” he protests, waving a hand in front of him as if to illustrate his point. “And they’re likely being underpaid anyway, so it’s simply good manners–”

Cody snickers, shaking his head and giving his Jedi a fond grin. “Mm, no, absolutely,” he agrees, a hint of teasing in his tone. “Which reminds me, sir, I have a bridge to sell you on Corellia, actually–”

Obi-Wan does his best to not look impressed, though his eyes betray him as they always do, lighting up in mirth. “Oh, hush, you.”

Cody can’t hide his amusement, even as he attempts an imploring expression.  “It really is a fantastic piece of architecture, though. And at such a reasonable price…”

He trails off as he sees the fond exasperation painting Obi-Wan’s features. It’s one of the other man’s signature countenances, and one he’s been on the receiving end of many times over the years. He doubts he’ll ever get sick of it.

“So,” the Jedi starts pointedly, steering the conversation to more practical topics. “The finalised agenda for today.”

Cody nods, taking a bite of a piece of fruit as his expression turns more serious. It’s one he’d seen growing on the native trees here during his excursions through the grounds yesterday - bright pink and not dissimilar to an apple, but decidedly more sour. He thinks he likes it. 

“Right. We’re hoping to intercept Barrek at 1030 hours,” he recites easily, shrugging slightly at the Jedi’s request to go over all of this again.

Cody is a man who prides himself on his strategic prowess - it’s entirely good practice for he and Obi-Wan to cover the mission details whenever they have downtime, he’s aware of this.

… All the same, this isn’t a battlemap with three chokepoints, a hundred enemies, and countless potential flanking positions to watch out for. This linear-style of plan is as simple as it gets.

“While he’s booked a slot on the local tour,” Obi-Wan adds, stroking a hand over his beard in thought. Cody’s eyes track the movement idly. 

“For some reason.”

The Jedi hums. “It seems as if he’s treating every moment that he’s not involved in intergalactic crime as a legitimate holiday.”

Cody huffs at the thought. It doesn’t seem particularly likely to him that someone preparing to take down the Republic would be so relaxed as to go around sightseeing like a normal tourist - but then again, he supposes he’s not really got an insider look on the proclivities of terrorists. 

“Perhaps,” he responds, though his tone is doubtful. “So we tag along on the tour to watch Barrek, see if he tries to slip away, or takes any extra notice in concealed coves or hideaways. What comes after that…?”

Obi-Wan finishes off his bowl of fruit, placing down the dish on a small side table. “Lunch, I suppose,” he says evenly, checking the chrono on his wrist.

Now it’s Cody’s turn for exasperation.

“I meant with Barrek,” he clarifies. He reaches for a cup, taking a sip of his caf. The warmth of the mug in his hands is a grounding sensation, the same here as it always is during their morning meetings, wherever they may happen. It’s a pleasant constant to be drawn back to.

“Well, I imagine he’ll be eating lunch too,” Obi-Wan muses, “perhaps we might be able to do so together, hm?”

Cody raises a brow.

“You’re certain that’s wise? Won’t he remember, well… everything from last night?”

Obi-Wan smiles. “I daresay I’m counting on it, Commander.”

Now that catches Cody’s attention. He gestures for Obi-Wan to continue, and the Jedi steeples his fingers together, a plan already put together in full, it seems.

“We introduce ourselves with an apology for our drunken impropriety last night, and tell him that we recognise him from previous Pyke dealings. He’ll be irritated by us, but intrigued. Play up the oblivious angle and he might just spill something about the deal tonight.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Cody’s brow pinches in a frown, already going over the thousands of ways that such a direct ploy might backfire. “Wouldn’t announcing our intentions like that be an incredibly suspicious move?”

Obi-Wan shrugs, clearly an old hand at this social game by now.

“Then he writes us off as oblivious and unsubtle smugglers - they’re a credit a dozen in a system like this. A spy would never be quite so direct.” He finishes off his own mug of caf, glancing at Cody with a sly twinkle in his eye.

“Never,” Obi-Wan starts, his tone indicative of an incoming lesson, “underestimate the value of someone believing you to be a harmless fool.”

Cody can’t help but chuckle. “That’s usually Skywalker’s gambit, as I recall.”

“And just who do you think he learned it from?” Obi-Wan responds lightly, giving Cody a friendly pat on the shoulder. The Jedi taps his chrono, before turning to grab his coat from the nearby hook. “Now, we’d best be off, my dear. I believe we have a tour to catch.”

Cody nods, rolling his shoulders as he slips on his own jacket. Once more into the fray by each other’s side. 

The lingering nervousness of the need to uphold his alias remains, though with the success of last night, Cody has to say his confidence has grown, just a little.

He offers Obi-Wan a small smile as they step out into the corridor, offering him his arm to take in a moment of boldness. 

He knows he probably shouldn't indulge like this, and it'll likely only serve to make his predicament worse, but he can't find it in himself to care as he feels Obi-Wan's arm slip into his own, the Jedi's warmth steady and reassuring.

“It seems we do.”

______________________________

The tour of the curated grounds outside of the hotel ends up being as much of a waste of time as the both of them had suspected - not that they’re here to sightsee, but the Jedi and Commander still can’t help but make muttered comments to one another under their breaths with every egregious claim made by their guide.

The worker giving the tour has a veritable litany of diplomatically worded stock phrases about the history of the planet that they cycle though, obscuring the planet’s history as a corporate bidding ground and making it sound more like a ‘paradise’ that happened to be discovered by their company’s founder. The word ‘colonisation’, in particular, is very carefully tiptoed around.

At least some of the views are worth appreciating.

From their position at the back of the group, they maintain a watchful eye on Barrek, noting anything he seems to be paying particular attention to, any moment that could possibly give him means to slip away unnoticed.

… And Cody has to begrudgingly admit that it does, in fact, seem like the man is here to enjoy himself - it looks like he’s genuinely interested in the things the tour guide is saying. Force knows why.

As the event is wrapping up and the group is beginning to disperse, the two men share a glance and a subtle nod. Now or never.

Obi-Wan and Cody make their pre-planned approach, catching up to their target before he can disappear out of their sight. The Jedi clears his throat.

“Atashe Barrek?”

The Rodian’s shoulders stiffen, and the man turns, eyeing the two warily. Obi-Wan puts on a bright, easy grin, offering a friendly wave as he steps over. “It’s Renne. From that party for the Syndicate, back on Oba Diah? I knew I recognised you when we talked last night!”

Bold, bold move. Barrek lurches forwards as Obi-Wan says just the right amount of ‘too much’, the Rodian’s hand reaching out to grasp him by the lapel of his coat. Cody tenses, but taking his cue from his General, doesn’t move to intercept the attack. Still, he feels his shoulders draw up, body coiled like a spring even as he tries not to show it.

“Keep. Your voice. Down,” Barrek hisses, his fist tightening in the fabric. Cody makes note of the four different ways he could break the Rodian’s wrist from this position if things get ugly, his entire focus narrowed down to the threat currently being presented. It’s a nice fantasy, if nothing else - the sight of someone manhandling the Jedi like this irks him, and he itches to act.

Obi-Wan can handle himself, Cody knows this, but it’s his job above all else to handle things for him so he doesn’t have to. 

During a particularly intense confrontation, Ventress had once referred to him as Kenobi’s trained attack dog. It was meant to be a disparaging comment, he’s sure, something intended to deny him of his agency - Obi-Wan’s eyes had flashed with something uncharacteristically dangerous at the comparison -  but in the moment, Cody couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

So he’s an attack dog, then - good. Obi-Wan is his charge, and it’s his duty to go down fighting with bloodied claws and teeth, ensuring that he takes the hits in the other man’s place. 

The small thrill he gets from the thought is probably not wholly borne from the loyalty trained into him since decanting - though Cody finds it easier to pretend that’s all that it is.

There’s no Commander Cody without a General Kenobi to protect. It’s simply the way of the Galaxy.

The Jedi placidly smiles as Barrek’s grip loosens and eventually lets go, Cody’s hackles lowering reluctantly as he does so. A small, irrational part of him almost wanted the Rodian to push, just for an excuse to put him in his place. It would certainly be more comfortable than playing nice.

“Ah, of course, of course. Secrecy, got it,” Obi-Wan murmurs, the vacant grin still plastered on his face as he taps the side of his nose conspiratorially.

Cody forces on a smile too, though his gaze is probably still a little too sharp on the man who’s far too comfortable with putting his hands on Obi-Wan. 

He sucks in a quiet breath as he feels a foreign, yet soothing rush of calm entering his mind, no doubt courtesy of his Jedi sensing the tension that runs through him. 

Cody allows it to seep into him, relaxing his shoulders and reminding himself that even without their usual access to their weapons, they still have the advantage here. His eyes meet Obi-Wan’s for the briefest of moments, silently thanking him for the assist.

Barrek takes a step back to brush himself off, though he’s still clearly irritated. He glances around rather conspicuously to check no one else is listening in, before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Good. Who are you and why do you know me?” he growls, voice low.

Obi-Wan blinks, managing an incredibly convincing look of offense. “You don’t remember? Really, Atashe, I would have thought you would.” 

At Barrek’s ensuing blank stare, he elaborates, “Renne and Vidarr Emerin. We were at the Pyke Palace - the soiree last year? We were speaking to Lom himself when you were passing, and I said–”

At the mention of the leader of the Syndicate, Barrek pales. 

Cody holds his breath. If their words are being believed here, then Obi-Wan has made them out to potentially be incredibly important. This could all come tumbling down terrifyingly easily.

“Right– right,” Barrek interrupts, nodding vigorously. “I, ah– I remember now,” he lies. “Yes, at the, uh, mid-year party, right? I had drunk a lot, so that was why I didn’t immediately…” he trails off, eyes darting between them, evidently trying to put together pieces of a puzzle, unaware that the two men in front of him are playing chess instead.

“Of course, of course,” Obi-Wan returns brightly, clapping a hand on Barrek’s shoulder. “Now, you were on your way to the buffet before I interrupted you, right? How about we join you for lunch?” 

The Rodian isn’t quite as adept at concealing his grimace as Cody imagines he intended to be.

“I… already arranged for company,” he says with a frown, his discomfort palpable. Obi-Wan’s smile grows brighter, clasping his hands together in delight. 

“Well, more colleagues to meet sounds perfect! Lead the way.”

There’s not really much Barrek can do with that level of social ineptitude. As frustrated as he clearly is, Obi-Wan has done a skilful job of getting across that ‘Renne’ does run in the same circles as him, and the Rodian has no way of knowing how important they are to the Pykes, meaning he has to play nice just in case.

Barrek blinks, bewildered, not quite realising that he’s been expertly backed into a corner.

“... Uh, fine. It’s… Yeah, this way.” 

Cody and Obi-Wan share a glance behind the Rodian’s back as he begrudgingly gestures for them to follow him inside. The Jedi has a distinctive triumphant gleam in his eye, but Cody suspects it’s a little too early to call victory just yet.

The real work starts now.

______________________________

Barrek leads the two of them through to a small table at the resort’s pop-up buffet for today’s lunch, awkwardly introducing the two of them to an apparent girlfriend, a Togrutan woman named Lia. 

It’s admittedly strange that their intelligence hadn’t mentioned her at all, and from Cody’s memory, there was no hint of a second person staying in Barrek’s hotel room last night. Not enough reason to outright be suspicious, but definitely something to keep track of.

Despite his reservations, he offers her what he hopes is an easy smile as they settle down to eat.

Obi-Wan takes a seat across from Barrek, wasting no time in starting conversation about their ‘mutual’ line of work. 

Cody is content to let the Jedi take the lead in conversation, his eyes tracking the lunch hall around them as subtly as he can. It’s not particularly busy in here right now, but they’re not exactly in the most secluded of spots… if someone were to attempt to listen in, they’d find it all too easy.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Lia reaching across the table and tapping him lightly on the arm.

“The two of you are together, then?” she asks with a smile, inclining her head towards Obi-Wan.

It takes Cody a moment to register what she’s asking. Ah. Here they go. Time to actually play the role he’s been preparing for for the past few weeks.

He glances to where Obi-Wan is still very much engaged in conversation with Barrek, wincing internally. Looks like he’s on his own.

“Ah, yeah,” he replies, finding a tone that feels too light and airy to be natural to him. “Married, actually,” he adds, gesturing to the band on his ring finger. 

Lia seems to be expecting him to say something else in the ensuing pause, so he offers a small smile. “We’re… here on our anniversary.” 

Lia actually sighs at that, resting her head on her hand and smiling dreamily.

“Oh, how sweet. I figured it must have been a special occasion for the two of you,” she practically coos. Cody raises a brow.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I saw you the other night. The two of you are just so…” she shrugs, eyes sparkling. “... In love, really.” She leans in, giving him a playfully conspiratorial nudge. “I wish Barrek would look at me like that.”

Cody lets out a strangled laugh, the sound more one of a desperate need to cover his surprise than anything else. He takes a sip of his drink, trying to stall out the need for a response. How had they been looking at each other, exactly?

“I, uh, I suppose we got lucky,” he manages to say after a moment, hearing the way his voice comes out a tiny bit strained, though luckily Lia doesn’t seem to pick up on it. Keep talking, Cody, Vidarr would not shut down on this topic, he reminds himself, trying to keep his calm as much as possible. “Closest thing to soulmates someone could get, I’d say.”

“Yeah?” Lia prompts, twirling the end of one of her lek around her finger. She’s enraptured, which Cody is grateful for, because it means he’s being believable enough - but it’s also absolutely terrible, because it means he’s going to have to improvise more.

“Well, y’know…” Cody starts, glancing sidelong to Obi-Wan, who’s currently leant back against the chair lazily as he talks shop with Barrek. He finds a strange sense of sureness wash over him as he takes a moment to just… look. Talking about being partners with someone. He thinks he can do that. He turns back to Lia with another smile, this one more certain than his previous attempts.

“We just… fit, I suppose,” he says with a shrug, his voice soft, thoughtful. “A good duo. Not just the, uh… romantic stuff. We’re close friends, allies first and foremost.”

He pauses to take another sip of his drink, feeling his heart ache slightly, tugged on by some invisible (but far too familiar), force. For once, he thinks, it could be helpful. He doesn’t push it away.

“It’s what makes it so special, you know? I know there’s nothing I can go through that he wouldn’t have my back for, and he feels the same about me. It’s…” Cody looks down at the band on his finger, his expression turning more pensive. “It’s only been a few years, but I can’t imagine anyone else being by my side. Being that… primary person that I turn to when I need advice, or… just company, really.”

He falls quiet for a moment, reflecting on the truth of the words. How much of this is him trying to play as Vidarr, and how much is real? It’s all tangled up in his mind, an inextricable knot of uncertainty.

“... That’s love,” Lia responds softly, giving him a warm smile.

Cody blinks. “Is it? I–” he meets Lia’s gaze again, scrambling to not blow his cover. “It– it is, I mean. Love.” 

He lets out a steadying breath, focusing on making a recovery, and not on the way his heart has picked up its pace violently.

Is that what love is?

 “I think I just forget that not everyone has something like this,” he says, forcing on the smile again. “It becomes so normal after a while. Background noise.”

Lia offers him a wry smile, her eyes landing on Barrek briefly, something like sadness etched there for the briefest of moments.

“Would that we all could be so fortunate,” she murmurs, her finger idly tracing the rim of her glass.

She smiles something bright and fake as Barrek turns back to face her, slinging an arm over the back of her chair.

“Ready to go, babe,” the Rodian announces, and the two ‘couples’ stand from the table, bidding their goodbyes. Obi-Wan goes in for a hug, which Barrek uncomfortably rebuffs.

‘It’s not laying it on too thick if it works’, Obi-Wan had told Cody earlier, blatantly enjoying the idea of playing the fool a little too much.

The man was right, Cody concedes, watching the way Barrek rolls his eyes as soon as they think they’re out of sight. ‘Renne’ seems to have been relegated to ‘harmless idiot’ status in the Rodian’s eyes, just as they’d planned.

Obi-Wan takes Cody’s arm once again as they head outside. The Commander forces down the distracting, odd feeling in his chest that has been lingering from the conversation with Lia, pushing it away to deal with later. Much, much later, if he has anything to say about it. His deathbed, perhaps, when he’s old and only has half of his memories left anyway.

… Although, Cody imagines he’s kidding himself with the notion that he’ll get to live that long in the first place.

“Success?” he asks the Jedi, attempting to shake off his persistent discomfort as the two head to the resort’s gardens to speak privately.

Obi-Wan nods. “He was incredibly resistant to saying more than he needed to, but all the same…” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, looking considerably self-satisfied. “They’ll be meeting at 9:30pm tomorrow. I’m not certain where, but we can trail Barrek if we’re careful.”

Cody lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“I don’t know why I was worried. Good job.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “It was purely luck, I assure you, but I appreciate it nevertheless.”

They pause for a moment to watch as a sparrow flutters overhead to land at a nearby birdfeeder. A small moment of peace after the emotional chaos of the last twenty minutes.

Beside him, Obi-Wan’s head tilts a little, a warm expression gracing his features.

“And you did excellently, too. Not that I could pay attention to the entirety of your conversation, but it looked like you dealt with Lia confidently,” he compliments. Watching Cody’s response carefully, he adds, “I do not, of course, wish to patronise. I only mention it as I knew you were nervous about the ordeal.”

Cody feels himself flush a little under the praise. He can take commendations about his prowess in battle - he knows he’s good at that - but it always feels harder, somehow, when it’s something he’s unsure about.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs, eyes still tracking the small bird ahead of them.

Obi-Wan nods, and the two fall into a companionable silence.

Cody allows himself a brief reprieve from the stress of the last hour, quietly letting himself just enjoy the moment in the here and now. A gentle scent from the flowerbeds around them diffuses through the air, the sunlight peeking through the sheet of clouds above to softly make itself known.

Obi-Wan turns to fix him with a faux-earnest look, his eyes twinkling with what can only be described as mischief. 

“Though, speaking of that chat you had… Soulmates, are we?” He asks innocently.

… Well. Cody was enjoying the moment. He feels his cheeks flush even brighter.

“Not. Another. Word,” he mutters, frowning over at the other man. Obi-Wan simply grins in return.

“No? Not one?” he presses, clearly delighting in the huff of annoyance that draws from his Commander.

“You’re incorrigible,” Cody grumbles. “I’m not going to encourage it, I know you too well.”

Obi-Wan hums at that, expression softening ever so slightly to reveal a genuine affection underneath his smirk. He gently nudges the Commander’s shoulder with his own, glancing back to the resort behind them.

“You certainly do, my dear. Come, we should be getting back to get our further agenda in order.”

Cody sighs, unable to keep from returning the fond smile.

“Right behind you. As always.”

______________________________

Obi-Wan had always been good at flirting.

Flirting, flirting, flirting, with anything that moves, anything that breathes.

He particularly has an aptitude for flirting with the enemy.

That doesn’t mean that Cody is good at listening to him do it.

The Commander sighs, fiddling with his comm-unit to give him something to occupy his hands with, focusing on getting the signal as clear as possible.It’s fairly clean already, but he’s desperate for something to do.

The smooth tones of his General drift out from the small device, serving to make the crease of his brow deepen.

“What’s gotten into you?” Rex asks from beside him, glancing sidelong at his oldest friend. 

Cody grumbles under his breath, keeping his attention on the damn comm-unit. The tiny thing is vexing him more than it probably should. 

For a brief moment, he fantasises about crushing it.

“Nothing,” he responds irritably. 

Even through his vod’s helmet, he can practically feel the raised brow this earns him. 

“Nothing,” Rex repeats, sounding skeptical. “Sure.”

The two drift into a silence once more, keeping an ear to the unfortunate conversation they’re listening in on over the comms. Once General Kenobi says the codephrase, the 212th are going to rush in, the 501st backing them up.

It’s just… taking longer than they expected.

Stars, why can’t they just get on with it? The Commander feels twitchier than usual, some unknown force making his usually endless patience wear thin. 

His General throws out a casual line about the target’s eyes pleasantly matching the shirt they chose, and Cody rolls his eyes. At this rate, his scowl will be permanently etched onto his features. 

Rex once again notices his tension.

“He’s just stalling until Skywalker arrives,” the Captain tries, but it doesn’t do anything to abate Cody’s prickly mien. 

“Then he should get there faster,” Cody huffs, trying not to let the words come out in as much of a snap as they seem to want to. He’s aware he’s being irrational, but he can’t seem to shake it off.

Rex doesn’t respond. 

After Skywalker comms in to inform them that he’d be at least another ten minutes (because of course he will be, Cody thinks to himself), the two hunker down in their small, temporary bunker (if it can even be called that - it’s more of an empty shack that they’d squeezed themselves into to keep out of sight while awaiting their next orders). Rex removes his helmet with a sigh, running through a routine check of his blasters to give himself something to do in the meantime.

A soft, charming laugh fills the room, a little fuzzy from the distortion of the comm signal. “You’re too much, truly. But I would be lying if I said it doesn’t intrigue me,” Obi-Wan murmurs - or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say he purrs. 

Either way, it irks Cody considerably, making his chest feel oddly tight. He can clearly imagine the look on the Jedi’s face as he speaks, that sultry glint in his eye that comes to him so easily when he’s making eyes at the enemy.

“... It’s not about the mission.” 

What? Cody startles as Rex breaks the silence, having apparently been watching him carefully for the last few minutes. Cody looks back at his vod like he’s grown a second head.

“Of course it’s about the mission,” he objects, absolutely baffled by his suggestion. “We’re wasting precious time, and the men are sitting ducks out here. I’d rather not do most of this firefight after sundown–”

“Sure, Codes, but difficult odds never phase you this much,” Rex counters, raising a brow.  He continues to watch Cody, his gaze searching for Force knows what. The Commander is suddenly very grateful he never took his own helmet off. 

“In fact,” the Captain presses, “I’ve never known you to be so off your game in the field. You usually do best when you’re backed into a corner. So it’s not about the mission.”

Cody doesn’t really know how to respond. He doesn’t particularly want to delve into all of the reasons behind his uncharacteristic distractions today.

“Just drop it, Rex’ika,” he insists, his voice a little weary. “I’m just feeling a little off today. It’ll pass.” 

Something like sympathetic understanding crosses Rex’s features. Cody watches him hesitantly try to find his next words. 

“... Is it about what happened on Cato Neimoidia a few weeks ago?” he asks. “How’ve you been sleeping since then?” 

Cody shakes his head quickly. “No, I– I’m fine. I’m sleeping fine.” Or - as fine as a man whose life has been spent at war is capable of sleeping, but Rex knows well enough what he means. His last mission had been… messy, to put it lightly, but he’s dealt with worse. He can compartmentalise.

His brother looks a little relieved to hear that, though Cody can tell he still wants to push.

Another comment from Obi-Wan that implies he and the target are imminently about to go home with one another makes its way through the space, and Cody grumbles quietly under his breath. Something seems to click for the Captain. Something that seems to amuse him greatly.

“... Ah,” Rex says. The corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk. Cody wishes it didn’t do that.

“What?” he responds, tone clipped and making it clear that he is absolutely not in the mood for whatever the other man is about to come out with.

“Just connecting some dots.” If Rex looked any more smug right now, Cody might consider walking right out of the shack and eating his blaster - it would ultimately be more dignified than sitting through this inevitable conversation.

He does not want to talk about this, not now, not ever.

“Rex…” he murmurs lowly, a clear warning bleeding into his tone.

A warning that, of course, goes unheeded.

“You’d be unfazed trying to take down a kriffing rancor. And jealousy is what throws you off?”

If looks could kill, the 501st would need to hire a new Captain after this.

“I’m not jealous,” Cody rebuts without hesitation. He spoke too quickly, he knows immediately from the look on his brother’s face. Damn it all.

“No? Then why is every flirt he makes causing you to sound like Fox on that day the caf supplies ran out?” Rex looks practically triumphant in his discovery. “Oh, Force. That also must be why you got all touchy when that Twi’lek came onto Kenobi that time in 79’s. I thought it was about the other guy, but it wasn’t, was it?”

Cody sputters for a moment, trying to come up with a viable defense. 

“That’s not– I–”

As far as Rex is concerned, that’s a veritable confession. He offers his friend a wide grin, returning his focus to the comms.

“Your secret’s safe with me, ori’vod. I won’t tell a soul,” he says, far too brightly for Cody’s liking.

Cody considers continuing to argue, but he knows that it’s a lost cause. With a heavy sigh, he deflates, slouching in his chair.  

“If you were one of my men, I’d have you court-martialed for insubordination,” he mutters darkly, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’ll add that to the extensive list of reasons I’m glad I’m not one of your men, then,” Rex returns easily, giving Cody a playful nudge.

The Commander snorts, shaking his head. A wry smile finds its way onto his face, despite everything.

“Yeah, yeah. I still outrank you.”

The comm crackles with murmurs of conversation, and the two share an alarmed look. The codephrase.

“I’ll harass you about it later,” Rex chuckles, pulling on his helmet as the two rush out of the bunker.

“Just worry about surviving long enough to do that first, vod.” Cody mutters. “I could still shoot you in the back before this is all over.”

His brother only laughs.

______________________________

With the knowledge that the deal was set to be happening the following evening, the Jedi and Commander had spent the rest of their day at a fairly leisurely pace. After much persuasion, Cody had even let Obi-Wan buy a dinner for them both.

(“We usually split at Dex’s,” Cody had protested, not wanting the Jedi to pay out of pocket for such an expensive outing. He was aware that Obi-Wan had access to much more money than he did, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Yes, but I want to do something nice for you,” Obi-Wan insisted, gently placing a hand on Cody’s, staying his hand from reaching for his wallet. “I asked you to join me here on the mission in the first place, so let me repay you in kind.”

Cody had raised a brow at that. “I’ll be getting paid by the Republic for agreeing to come, regardless.”

Obi-Wan’s expression didn’t falter. “You might be, yes, but not nearly enough. Allow me this, please.”

Cody always had been bad at denying him when he used that tone.)

They’d both fallen asleep quickly that night, having stayed up to trade stories - a familiar ritual from when they first began working late together to get their mountains of paperwork turned in on time.

Obi-Wan tells Cody of planets he’d visited before the war, and promises to take his Commander to see some of them once this is all over - to give him the holiday and time off that the Jedi says he deserves. Cody regales his Jedi with tales of his childhood on Kamino, telling him of the books Shaak-Ti had helped smuggle to them to help the tubies sleep at night.

The following morning brings with it a quiet sort of strangeness.

Something urgent, but not necessarily dangerous, tugs at the edge of Cody’s conscious mind, gently drawing him to wakefulness.

He’s warm, warmer than he’d usually like to be, and he can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s something important that he needs to be paying attention to.

He dozes, trying to figure out what, if anything, is different about today.  

Obi-Wan lets out a soft murmur behind him in his sleep, pressing his nose closer against Cody’s back and– 

Oh.

Well, that would certainly explain the warmth.

Cody doesn’t move, doesn’t even dare breathe as his mind works overtime to process the situation. 

Obi-Wan is pressed directly behind him, one of his arms slung lazily over his torso. For want of a better word (and Cody is desperately searching for one), the Jedi is… holding him.

An explosion of conflicting emotions bubble in Cody’s chest, his mind still far too fogged from sleep to make sense of any of it.

With each breath from Obi-Wan, Cody can feel the rise and fall of his chest against his back, and in a brief moment of delirium, he finds himself wishing that he’d forgone his undershirt too, just to feel the touch of skin against skin.

It’s a thought he immediately admonishes himself for, wondering just where, exactly, he’d gained the audacity to think such an unprofessional and objectifying thing about his commanding kriffing officer. 

Cody’s breath grows progressively more shallow as he continues to draw a blank. How had this even happened? Cody is firmly stationed on his own side of the bed, meaning it was the Jedi who had to have shuffled over - but that means nothing. He’s asleep, and pressing close is a normal sleeping instinct when you’re in bed with someone else. Right? Perhaps Obi-Wan was just cold - though, that would hardly make sense, given that they’re on a tropical kriffing island.

Cody’s face, he’s sure, is flushing deeply, his heart hammering against his ribs at the contact. It’s fine. This… can be fine, and not existentially mortifying - as long as he extricates himself from the hold before Obi-Wan wakes up.

He doesn’t even want to imagine how awkward this would be if the other man was aware of what was happening.

He tries a very, very gentle shuffle towards the edge of the bed, but Obi-Wan lets out a quiet groan of protest in his sleep, curling himself around the clone even tighter.

Cody desperately tries to ignore the way that the sound goes straight to his groin.

Shit, shit, shit. 

He doesn’t see another solution, though he wishes he did. Cody once again shifts, a little more firmly now, peeling Obi-Wan’s arm off from him as carefully as possible.

The second he sees a hint of freedom, the Commander bolts, rolling out of bed and rushing to the ‘fresher. 

His Jedi, thank every star in the sky, does not seem to stir.

Safe inside the refresher, with the door locked behind him and his mind buzzing, Cody thinks faintly that his legs might actually give out under him.

Between the feeling of Obi-Wan pressed close against his back, and Lia’s words from yesterday still unsettling him, he feels like he’s losing his mind.

It all adds up to a great cacophony in his head, one Cody has absolutely no idea what to begin to do with. It’s too loud, too insistent, and his heart is still fluttering like a caged bird attempting escape.

A shower, he decides, is a good first step. He could probably do with a shower.

Shrugging off his sleepclothes, he numbly makes his way to the cubicle, determined to do something, anything, to calm his racing thoughts.

Cody presses his forehead against the cold tiles as the scalding water runs down his back. Neither of the contrasting sensations serve to ground him in reality the way he wishes they would.

He… wants.

No, that’s not quite right.

Wanting is ephemeral, malleable. It’s intense, burning, but it doesn’t stick around too long or cut down quite to the bone. 

It usually, in Cody’s experience, is something that can be ignored, temporarily or not, with enough focus and discipline.

No, Cody does not want. He needs.

He raises his head from the tiles, closing his eyes as the water trickles in too-hot rivulets down his face.

Of course. Of course. He should have known, should have seen the signs… perhaps then, he could have done something to stop it.

Cody lets out a quiet, strangled groan. It echoes off of the tiles of the small shower back to him, sounding pitiful even to his own ears.

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Force.

This whole mission has been a cruel play by the Gods. By even stepping foot here, he’d opened the lid on something he could have gone the rest of his life ignoring, and Cody is afraid - no, terrified - that there’s no going back now.

Passion, desire, infatuation - he can deal with those. They’re to be expected for anyone, even someone of his station trying to navigate living through wartime. Love, on the other hand… 

… What the fuck does a clone do with love?

From the other room, he hears the front door of their room close, feels the slight shake of the walls. Obi-Wan has left, no doubt waking and deciding to pick them up breakfast like he did yesterday.

Slowly, Cody slides down the wall of the shower, sitting with his knees drawn to his chest and his gaze unfocused as the water pools around him.

His thoughts drift back to the words his Jedi had said to him two evenings ago, just before their kiss. 

‘This… isn’t ideal.’

No, General, Cody thinks to himself, more than a little miserably. He drags a hand over his face, doing his best to stop his teeth from grinding together in frustration. No, it is not.

______________________________

The effort required to pull himself together for the evening is gargantuan, but then again, the Commander has always thrived under impossible odds.

They’ve been trailing Barrek from afar since 9pm, waiting for him to make his way to the site of the deal, wherever it may be. It’s almost a relief when, at 9:25, he finally takes his leave from the resort’s main building and slips out into the night. 

“Showtime,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his eyes locked on the Rodian from their vantage point in the gardens. 

“So it seems. We should be careful.”

“Ah, but we’re simply two lovers going on a nighttime stroll,” the Jedi responds lightly, giving his companion a gentle, friendly nudge. “Nothing suspicious there.”

Cody isn’t certain he’s up for their usual banter tonight. 

Still, he forces on a small smile. It begrudgingly becomes genuine when he takes in Obi-Wan’s expression. 

“You’re sure you’re alright, Cody?” he asks quietly, worried eyes searching Cody’s.

Obi-Wan had noticed his distraction earlier - of course he had. Cody had told him, not entirely incorrectly, that he was simply feeling a little ill.

A mistake, he immediately realised, as that meant that he’d been unable to avoid the Jedi’s fussing for the rest of the day.

A situation that had, unfortunately, not helped Cody’s heart after his earlier discovery. If he had to feel the gentle press of the back of the other man’s hand upon his forehead one more time…

Cody sees the familiar concern in his friend’s eyes, and nods. 

“Can’t be too wrong by your side, sir,” he murmurs, a little more truth in the statement than he imagines Obi-Wan will ever know.

The Jedi’s expression softens further, and he reaches out a hand to squeeze Cody’s shoulder, sparing a quick glance over to Barrek’s retreating form in the distance. “Good. Let us go save the Galaxy once again, then, Commander,” he murmurs, smiling gently.

Cody allows himself a quiet chuckle, even as his stomach does a somersault at the gesture. “It does seem to fall on us often, that.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkle in a combination of fondness and amusement that he seems to only reserve for those quiet, between-mission conversations.

“Then it’s a good thing we’re always fit to answer the call, I suppose.”

It begins to rain a little ways into their excursion, the two pulling the hoods of their cloaks up as they follow Barrek from a safe distance. 

He’s jumpy - though for good reason, Cody thinks, considering he’s being tailed - repeatedly checking over his shoulder and keeping a twitchy hand on the blaster at his side.

Rodians have considerably better night vision than humans, so Obi-Wan is sure to breathe a soft word of warning for them duck out of sight each time he senses the other man is about to turn. 

Cody silently gestures for the two of them to take a path up the side of a nearby cliff as they see Barrek wander down to the shoreline of one of the many nearby beaches - less chance to intervene, perhaps, but a better, more secure vantage point.

The wind rushes past them as they find a place to properly set up, their cloaks billowing out behind them as the waves crash against the shore below. Cody frowns as he removes the blaster clipped to his back, fully extending it out to become a sniper rifle.

Yesterday he had been out of his element, but this is his arena. He's run countless stakeouts before, and the Commander is confident that today’s won't be particularly more difficult than any other.

“Wind’s in a bad direction, gonna affect my aim,” he gripes, glancing down to where Barrek is waiting around on the beach with his hands stuffed in his pockets. They have time, but the others will be arriving any moment. “Stand there,” he orders.

Obi-Wan raises a brow, though he steps over to where Cody had pointed without question. 

“And kneel,” the Commander directs firmly, his focus dedicated to fiddling with the scope. 

He belatedly realises that that is perhaps an incredibly inappropriate request to make of your commanding officer when he glances up to see Obi-Wan, wide eyed and a little red in the face.

Before he can open his mouth to apologise, rectify the situation, Obi-Wan nods, clearing his throat quietly. He arranges the cloak below him, settling himself down on the damp grass below.

Usually, the Jedi would make a joke out of the whole thing, or gently needle Cody for making such an order. For whatever reason, though, he stays quiet.

“Might I ask why…?” he eventually responds. Cody could swear his voice comes out a little strained, though he quickly dismisses the thought.

“Didn’t bring a stabiliser,” Cody answers with an apologetic smile, crouching in front of Obi-Wan and setting the body of the rifle down on the Jedi's shoulder, checking the scope and adjusting it minutely.

Cody tries not to think too hard about the way Obi-Wan's gaze burns into him as he hovers just over the other man, face to face and barely inches away between the cold metal of the blaster.

… But now is not the time for such distractions.

His attention zeroes in on the task at hand, the importance of it all providing a welcome reprieve from the pressure of being so close to his friend.

“... Slightly to the left,” he murmurs, and Obi-Wan dutifully shuffles himself over bit by bit until Cody, keeping close, breathes a quiet ‘stop’.

A few moments pass while he fixes the focus, feeling how tense the Jedi is.

“You can breathe, you know,” Cody says, unable to hide the amusement that slips into his teasing tone. “This is just a glorified telescope, I don’t need it steady enough to take a shot.” 

It takes Obi-Wan a long beat to respond.

“... Right. Of course,” he says, letting out a quiet, shaky-sounding exhale. Cody frowns in worry, nearly commenting on how strange his General is being, but his attention is drawn first by three more figures moving into the scope.

“It’s starting,” he whispers, pulling back briefly to meet the Jedi’s gaze. “Tell me anything you sense.”

Obi-Wan nods, his eyes fluttering closed in that peaceful way that tells Cody he’s reaching out to the Force. “I will. Tell me anything you see,” he requests in return. 

“I will.”

The General and Commander fall quiet as they settle in to work, their world narrowed down to the four people down on the quiet beach below.

The wind, though still strong, ceases its howling, as if holding its breath along with them.

It’s now or never, Cody thinks, watching as conversation on the beach begins. Time for them to save the Republic.

✷✷✷✷✷

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto

[tennessoui]

thinking about a soulmate canon au where you find your soulmate via touch and the jedi order is a bit more pious and has a very respectful no touching culture that obi-wan absolutely abides by. meanwhile anakin is raised on tatooine before coming to the temple and he's really used to touch, and it drives him a little insane, that no one touches him casually in the temple but he learns to abide by it as well and follow his master's example

only for him to fall head over heels for padmé as soon as they touch in aotc and he thinks his reactions to her are due to them being soulmates so they get married because padmé doesn't really know what finding her soulmate feels like either, but anakin's touch and attention feels good (and maybe he unintentionally uses the Force to convince her) so they must be soulmates

meanwhile obi-wan saved his padawan's life when he was like sixteen and was knocked unconscious and tossed into an ocean or something so obi-wan gives him mouth to mouth to resuscitate him---and discovers instantly that they're soulmates....but anakin's out cold and doesn't feel it so obi-wan's left alone with the realization that he's some kind of monster, being the soulmate of a child and anakin can never ever ever know.

so canon happens as canon does but with obi-wan knowing and keeping this secret to himself and carefully making sure he never touches anakin while anakin gets all of his touches from his wife and obi-wan watches from afar knowing he can never tell anakin or anyone else

but palpatine works it out and definitely tells anakin once he's Fallen and killed his wife and also been barbecued (by his soulmate), which makes vader obsess with finding obi-wan (more than he is in canon)

and he finally captures him and has the acolytes chain him up in mustafar. vader visits and asks if obi-wan cut off his arms so he couldn't touch him and know, and it's obi-wan's worst fear and biggest regret that anakin finds out they're soulmates, but now he has no control over the situation. not as vader approaches, not as he takes off his helmet, not as vader leans close and brushes what remains of his lips against obi-wan's cheek

and it feels just as good and right and perfect as it did the first and only time they touched, except now obi-wan isn't sure who the monster is. maybe it's both of them

[bunnie-online]

desperate boy. {A.S.}

pairing: sub!Anakin Skywalker x dom! fem reader

MINORS DNI. THIS IS 18+

summary: after not seeing you for weeks, Anakin can't wait to feel you again.

warnings: femdom, slight humiliation kink, teasing, orgasm denial.

word count: 1,059

Anakin was so far gone. His mind was betraying him while he was trying to fly himself and Obi-Wan back to the Jedi temple safely. He knew that he was going to see you soon, every time he tried to think about something wholesome, thought of you bent over, panting and screaming his name flooded his thoughts. It was a painfully long flight home, trying to keep himself at bay, figuratively and literally. As soon as the speeder touched down, Anakin basically sprinted from the landing pad to your room. To his surprise you were there waiting for him. He nearly knocked you over when he embraced you, squeezing you tightly. "Oh.. How I've missed you." He whispers huskily, making you shiver.

"Anakin, wait until we get into my room, we could be caught!" You giggle, Anakin nipping at your neck started to tickle. He opens your door with the Force, and backs you into your own room, his body never leaving yours. He backs you into a wall. "Ani.. Ani..." you gasp in between Anakin's impatient kisses. "Anakin!" you say sternly. He jumps. You can feel the goosebumps form on his skin. "You need to learn how to wait." Your voice low and seductive. You place you hands on his chest and move him backwards. His gorgeous blue eyes are blown out, widened with surprise. " 'm sorry" he slurs his words, already drunk off the pleasure that he has yet to receive. "You're going to do everything I say. Understood?" you gaze into his eyes, making your place known. "Y-Yes. I understand." he stutters out, but still nods obediently. "Kneel." you command. He drops to his knees, no questions asked. His eyes almost tearing up, awaiting your next command. You waltz around him, circling him like he's your personal, pretty prey. Anakin is basically shaking in anticipation. "Now, do you think that coming in here, forcing yourself upon me like a depraved horny being, makes you a good boy?" You ask, trailing you pointer finger along his jawline, forcing him to make eye contact with you. He shakes his head in shame. "Words, Anakin." you reprimand him. "No. It doesn't." his voice barely above a whisper. "And bad boys don't get what they want, do they?" you look down on him, your eyes darkening. "No... they do not." he was so delectably embarrassed, his arousal begging to be set free. "So. You're gonna listen and be a good boy, okay? Then I'll think about giving you what you want." an audible whine comes from him as soon as you finish your sentence. "I'll be good! I'll listen! I promise!" his voice is slightly pitched up, desperation dripping off of every single word. "Ah ah ah... Too eager. You need to wait, baby." you stroke his cheek, earning another whine from the very pretty boy kneeling in front of you. "Can't wait anymore" his voice cracks. "Need you, need to cum, please, it's been so long." He's almost in tears. Your heart (and other parts) aches for him, poor thing, he probably didn't touch himself the whole time he was gone, he's probably gonna burst soon. You get down on his level, joining him on the floor. "You've been so pent up, huh?" you take his face into both of your hands. He nods frantically. "Mhm! Haven't cum in so long, was waiting for you." tears of embarrassment and frustration well up in his eyes. "Oh you poor baby." You say, your voice feigning sympathy. "I'm gonna help you, okay Pumpkin." your voice sounded sweet, but your intentions are nothing but sinister. "Oh thank you, thank you." he repeats, already panting heavily. "Stand up, pretty boy." you order. He stands, his legs shaking from the adrenaline and anticipation. You couldn't ignore his arousal if you tried. It made the heat between your thighs grow more and more unbearable. You can't give in now though, how will your impatient, desperate boy learn his lesson? You can't reward his behavior. He has to learn. "Lean against the wall." you command him. He steps behind you, to switch your places. You turn around, still on your knees. "Be good for me, Ani." your voice low and commanding, making the man before you shiver. His voice caught in his throat, only leaving him to nod. You pull his pants down, suddenly, causing him to gasp, he looks away, his face suddenly crimson red. "Oh~ would you look at that. My boy is so sooo needy, hm?" you lean in and place a kiss on his left thigh. "Ohh" he groans, having you so painfully close to where he wants you, resisting the urge to grab your hand and place himself inside it.

"pleasepleaseplease" He whispered frantically as you continue to plant kisses all over his thighs and pelvis, actively avoiding his cock. "Still so desperate." you lightly graze your index finger along his shaft, stopping at the tip. "Ah! Please I'm too sensitive for this" he whines.

"Oh, I'm sorry, handsome. I shouldn't tease should I?" You plant another kiss right next to the base of his dick. Earning a whine, paired with a thrust of his hips. You decided to give in... for now,

You wrap you hand around him, stroking up and down while maintaining eye contact with him, until his roll into the back of his head. He's moaning loudly, his body spasming every once and a while. He wasn't lying when he said he was sensitive. "Aw Ani. I haven't even done anything yet." you laugh. His face flushes once more, he hide in his hands. You decide to push the limits and put him in your mouth. He got louder, his hands moving from his face to your hair. "Ah! No no no I'm so close already. Fuck!" he moans, you're convinced the entire Jedi temple can hear him, that spurs you on. You pick up your pace. "B-Babe. Baby! If you don't stop, 'm gonna cum!" he cries out. You take this as your sign to pull off of him. "Well if you say so." You wipe your mouth with your thumb, never breaking eye contact with him. You stand up. "W-Wait no! Wait don't stop!" His voice breaks, you could've sworn a tear rolled down his cheek. "Remember, Anakin. Only good boys get what they want."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ahhh this was my first time writing in a WHILE, let alone writing smut AHHH i'm sorry if this is ass

~ bunnie!

[vaguely-concerned]

Thoughts upon finishing Master and Apprentice! A good double read with Padawan; the ending of that leaving Obi-Wan slightly hopeful about his relationship to Qui-Gon makes for a very sad yet hilarious ‘Local Padawan loses last little bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of vibe to the beginning of this one, which is set one (1) year later and Obi-Wan is So Done with Qui-Gon’s whole deal by this point (correctly btw). Also if you can’t tell already I will not be objective or free from bias in this because I love Obi-Wan so much and some of the stuff Qui-Gon pulled made me incandescent with rage on his behalf <3 let’s go

- 'oh obi-wan, you're so mature for your age, I keep forgetting you're only seventeen years old,' qui-gon says, word for word, repeatedly, in master and apprentice, apparently willfully deaf to the industrial-sized warning bells about their relationship dynamic that should probably be setting off in his head. qui-gon believes in vibing with the living force and being in the moment right up until the moment requires him to pay attention to the kid he's raising for more than oh, one and a half minutes of self-effacing inner monologue and then he's like 'well unfortunately there is simply no time for that right now there are prophecies to be pondered'. (the fact that the admission that obi-wan has essentially been left to raise himself emotionally and the resigned reframing of that as 'and maybe that is a good thing!' is part of the olive branch they extend to each other towards the end... will my sadness never end)

- most of all it's so heartbreaking to me that qui-gon seemingly never understands just how much obi-wan as a person is rooted deeply in shame. I don't think that's a feeling that's particularly prevalent in qui-gon's own inner world so he doesn't recognize how central it is in obi-wan's psychology and completely misunderstands and misaligns with him again and again and again and then gets annoyed with obi-wan for that, thus making the shame even deeper. doubly painful because he does see the way rael lives so much of his life out of shame now and feels sad about it, but can't see the way he's contributing to obi-wan doing so. this is what fucks me up so bad about the generational trauma in star wars -- no one here meant to be cruel. for all his faults I do think qui-gon does love obi-wan and doesn't mean to hurt him. but the original sin of the prequels as far as I'm concerned is qui-gon tenderly drying away obi-wan's tears as he's dying even while completely failing to see him, his eyes too fixed on anakin's future to actually be with obi-wan, who's there right now and needs him.

these are simply very different people trying and failing to understand each other, and the harm that can still happen in that… 'if you love me, you don't love me in a way I understand', all the way through the disaster line, even when the love is there, it is there, that’s what hurts the most, it just doesn’t reach where it’s needed, there’s a connection that doesn’t happen. (ironically I think ahsoka doesn't doubt that anakin loves her, it's just uh everything else that went down. so y'know family curse broken! new even more fucked up curse achieved now with more child murder. I mean there already was some child murder in this family but anakin upped the game exponentially) 

- a lil guy who's basically tarzan except the gorillas are replaced with protocol droids and then he becomes a jewel thief is one of the funniest star wars concepts I've ever heard and I hope pax and rahara get to pop up in more star wars media, they’re great fun. (also an idea I think would be super fun to make a character/campaign around in Edge of the Empire or something, everyone playing different droids and then one person being robo-parented lol) 

- was not prepared to have rael posit a theory of what essentially seems to be the jedi version of predestination in his despair, but I do love to see it haha. especially interesting since he, qui-gon and dooku must be among the people alive who've studied the prophecies in most depth, and they've all reached different conclusions -- dooku decides to join the war of light and dark on the side of dark for some reason, qui-gon (possibly the stubbornest fucker the jedi order ever produced) 'turns towards the light not to win some great cosmic game, but because it is the light', and rael in the middle falls into the depressed apathy of 'it doesn't matter what we do here, the outcome is already decided; for there to be true balance there has to be as much dark as light in the world so we're fucked'. but in the end he does take qui-gon's words to heart and turns towards the light rather than accepting dooku's offer, even if he might not believe it makes a difference in the long run. man I love rael. hobo-looking sonofabitch living in a castle for eight years will just suddenly fling out some deep jedi theology huh

- master rael 'I'm gonna make up for the big terrible mistake I made on accident by making an even bigger more premeditated mistake on purpose' averross (affectionate)

- the added layer to dooku’s fascination with prophecy after reading dooku: jedi lost — that his best friend in the world was a seer who couldn’t turn it off and it destroyed him……….. dooku you’re not getting him back if you just understand what he saw you know that right

- the more I read of master and apprentice the more I realize that the reason yoda and qui-gon don't get along is that they're two of the judgiest bitches the jedi order ever produced. They’re like two cats scowling judgmentally at each other from opposite sides of the room pretending to live and let live while going ‘you’re wrong tho’ internally. 

- I dunk on him constantly (not entirely without affection, however grudging), but Qui-Gon is genuinely a really interesting character. He’s so… he’s so. He’s infuriating but he’s infuriating in an equidistant sort of way. You feel me. He’s pissing everyone off equally and he just doesn’t care because again, he’s the stubbornest judgiest bitch around and thinks he’s right all the time. I would be free to just enjoy his ornery ‘no actually I’m right about this’ ass and the chaos he wreaks so much more if Obi-Wan didn’t have to live with the emotional consequences of it lol. 

- poor rael closing in on fifty with his puriteen middle-aged little brother clutching pearls about his getting laid once in a blue moon fhdskjahfas. again a really interesting insight into different ways of interpreting the jedi code, though, I love seeing the jedi not be an ideological monolith. to be fair to rael, having sex sometimes does seem to be the indulgence he has that causes the least conflict with his principles or loyalties so you know what honestly force speed you my friend why not. (and then there's qui-gon 'noooo sex is only okay if you're In Love (implied: like I was)!!!' jinn lmao. I wonder what he'd think of anakin and padme's relationship, would that pass the 'being sufficiently purely in love' test for him) I do like how consistently it’s shown that rael doesn’t mean to be cruel or unkind in anything he says, he always notices something landing too close to home and then pulls carefully back from it instead of pushing on. He seems to be the emotional intelligence powerhouse in this lineage (as long as he doesn’t have his feelings too tangled up in something, at least). 

Dooku: jedi lost also shows us that dooku absolutely knows rael is out there in the galaxy laying pipe and is, at worst, softly amused by it. So in this little family unit it’s only qui-gon losing his mind over it fjsdkafa I’m so used to having qui-gon be the wild card maverick compared to obi-wan ‘*in tears* but what are the RULES master’ kenobi, it’s so fucking funny that within the context that raised him he’s the stick in the mud 

I guess. the book also had a plot and it was not bad! some interesting insights about how the republic interacted with the big corporations and just how fucked everything already was by this point. I'm a pretty character-driven reader so that's what sticks with me for the most part

- obi-wan’s big teenage rebellion here being that sometimes. Occasionally. When he really loses his temper and gets hot under the collar. He’ll say something slightly passive aggressive out loud instead of keeping it contained inside his head. And qui-gon still can’t handle that gracefully AT ALL he snaps right back fdjskfhas. (I guess he also snitches on qui-gon to the council but well, you know, qui-gon was breaking republic law pretty brazenly at that point I think that moves beyond teenage angst and into ‘...master that’s a wholeass felony’ territory). Obi-Wan does go for a couple of low blows, but like. Nothing that’s not actually true, is the thing. And mostly he blames himself for not being good enough, because surely if he were qui gon wouldn’t treat him like this. Augh. hngh. Pain. suffering. 

- I am not one of the people who think everything would have automatically been just hunky-dory if only qui-gon lived and could have been anakin's master (in fact I would have given it a 50/50 chance of going exponentially worse way faster; being more similar as people is not always a guarantee that a relationship will go smoother and qui-gon is an incredibly difficult man to be close to for any length of time), but the way this book basically presents how the dynamic between dooku, rael and qui-gon could have gone on in the next generation too... it would have been incredibly unfair to obi-wan (as always I think that's just an universal constant lmao) but I think the odds of it turning out okay would have been better if you had him in the mix to run crisis control for both qui-gon and anakin, as he does for each of them individually as best he can anyway. at least he could have been free to be anakin's brother and friend purely in that scenario, without all the added mess of grief and having to take on a parental role there so young. he does basically fill that role in ahsoka's apprenticeship, after all.

- qui-gon finally hugging rael before he leaves the planet (and especially since when they were younger he wanted to, but held himself back from it)... that's still his big brother even with all the shit that's happened since ;_____; when someone teaches you how to swim (literally and symbolically) that shit stays with you I suppose

Relatedly: DOOKU getting hugged, and gladly. What the fuck. Are you all seeing this shit. I’m gonna cry or laugh I’m not sure which one why am I emotionally invested in the galaxy's most problematic grandpa now this sucks

[fatedsith]

“Regardless of how we feel about each other.”

Her words haunt him even as he returns to his bedroom, the one across from Padmé’s on the topmost floor of the Varykino Villa. It was chosen so he could watch over her more easily; sense any disturbances. Not that there would be, at this estate– Anakin is confident in her safety, as long as they stay here at the Lake Country. After all, Governor Sio Bibble had agreed with Padmé that the Lake Country was the most remote part in all of Naboo. Despite what Padmé seemed to think, Anakin did value her input, knowing confidently that she’s the smartest woman he’s ever met. She joined the Apprentice Legislators when she was only eight and attended Theed Royal Academy, being trained to be a public servant.

He’s always thought it was a good thing that Padmé chose to serve; she was kind-hearted without sacrificing her intelligence. She was wise, strict and soft all at once. Anakin didn’t like politicians or their often indolent and selfish whims. If it weren’t for the Senate’s refusal to act swiftly, Naboo’s blockade wouldn’t have ruined so many lives. The unlawful Trade Federation had claimed taxation disagreements upon Naboo, using their membership in the Galactic Senate to further delay action. If it weren’t for Anakin’s own actions destroying the Trade Federation’s control ship, Naboo’s forces might not have overcome the blockade.

As much as he loved being of use to Padmé, he hated watching the Republic cause her such hardship, forcing her to go to even more extraneous lengths than she already would have. She was a good queen and now senator; wise and caring. Someone Anakin would trust with the universe itself, if the responsibility of it were placed on her shoulders. It was a shame all politicians couldn’t be more like her, and it was one of the many things about her that inspired him enough to keep her in his thoughts and dreams.

One of many things. There was also her beauty, and the connection they shared… the fact he can’t shake her from his visions. He would dream of her and in them they would talk and play, just like they had in the meadow. He felt as if he knew her more than he did; as if everything about her was also a part of him in some way. Lingering, even when she left him for ten years.

It’s why it leaves him in agony when she rejects him, telling him to come back to the real world as if his love was nothing but child’s play. He knows it’s not and it never was, even when they were children. He felt it— felt that they were meant for each other. Even the Force seemed intent on telling him so.

He returns to his bedroom with frustration and an aching sadness, discouraged. Why couldn’t she see they were meant to be? She wouldn’t even accept him when he tried to offer to keep it a secret. Didn’t she want him? She spoke delicately as if she did, dancing around the words. “Regardless of how we feel about each other,” she’d said, as if she felt it too.

That magnetic pull between them, like they needed each other. Or maybe only Anakin needed Padmé… Maybe he was a fool for coming here, thinking the senator still cared for him. Maybe Obi-Wan was right, as much as he hated even thinking the thought. But it had felt real to him, at the time– the way they kissed. She kissed him back; he’d felt it. The press of her soft mouth to his and the look in her eyes at the way his fingers trailed against her naked back.

He needs more– felt more. He swears he did, especially in the way she wiggled beside him, as if she was trying to put a lid on something she felt. Force it down, choke it out.

Or that’s what he tells himself as he starts to take off his robes, first the belt and then the leather overcoat. Pulling off the brown tunic with long sleeves, he rests the clothing on the end of the bed, leaving him shirtless.

The room Padmé gave him is adorned with the same golden curtains as in the sitting room, along with matching red velvet seats near the window. Everything is ornate; golden and beautiful, just like her and the rest of her world. Everything reminds him of her; the curtains, the intricate baroque furniture and expensive rugs. She’s like a princess, even though she isn’t a queen anymore. Maybe he thinks of her as one because she rules over his very heart and soul.

So he’s pulling his pants apart, sliding the loose dark fabric down. Jedi robes were so airy, which was good most of the time but not so much when he was trying to hide his arousal. How could he not be? Sitting beside her in a dimly lit room when she looked so beautiful, admitting she might feel something for him, just like in his dreams.

He had removed his shoes already because it was improper to wear them inside of the villa, especially up in this section of the castle. So he sits down on the bed, leaning against the headboard as his hand slips beneath the fabric of his underwear, his pants still half on his legs.

There’s a low fire crackling in the fireplace that they’d lit earlier; the one in the corner of his room. It illuminates his golden skin, making it easier to see his erection as he pulls it out. A soft frustrated sigh leaves him as his fingers close around his throbbing length, stroking gently and finding himself surprised at the force of pleasure that rolls through his body in response. It feels too good, thinking about her soft pink lips and the way they felt when they kissed on the veranda. It turns him on even more than her beauty does, knowing that she wanted him too, even if it was fleeting. Even if it didn’t mean to her what it meant to him.

How could she? “I will not give in to this,” she said, as if she wanted to give in. It’s all he can think about, almost obsessively, as he strokes himself a little harder. It feels like a betrayal of some kind, the way she rejected him after leaving him with the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced in his lifetime. All he can think about is the way her sweet mouth tasted, slotted against his. Frustration laces into the way Anakin touches himself, jerking off a little faster as his face contorts from the pleasure of it. He thinks about what would have happened if she did give in; if she would have had him on the couch. It’s enough to make him leak, getting his fingers wet as he touches himself, panting softly.

What he doesn’t expect is for the door to push open, hearing his name in her sweet voice. His head snaps up, looking for her in the dim light, hand still around himself. / @fatalqueen

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Star Wars Rant - Take 2!

Guys. Guys, I’m sorry. I had a thought on the way to work today… and now I’m going to force it upon all of you, too, so that at least I won’t suffer alone.

Kaminoans do not value emotion. They value perfection. In fact, the social demand for genetic perfection is what led them to cloning and thus gave us our lovely copy/ paste cornucopia of delicious potential for OCs, wartime angst, and brotherly shenanigans. We know each clone ended up developing a unique personality even as cadets, but imagine the first batches. They didn’t have older clones to look up to, to learn that becoming their own person was okay. They had asshole mercenaries, the legendary original source for their DNA, and, most abundantly, the Kaminoans to raise them.

Children learn through mimicry. They see their guardians interact with the world, and that’s the initial outline for who they become. If they spent most of their time around the Kaminoans, that means they would likely view emotions as a detriment, with some interplay offsetting that from Jango and the mercs.

Fast-forward a couple generations to the discovery and implementation of said clones, during which time the Kaminoans have likely done away with anyone who strayed too far from their ideal soldier, furthering the general understanding that emotions are dangerous and something to be stifled. Then, suddenly, here are these Jedi Generals who fall all over the emotional spectrum! Shaak Ti shows them compassion. Yoda shows them acceptance (and chaos, let’s be real). Anakin shows them fun (also chaos. So much chaos). Obi Wan, the biggest flirt in the damn galaxy, just completely upends whatever textbook definition of romance may have been briefly taught to “prepare” them as cadets.

What I’m really getting at, though, is that clones were brought up without love. They were created by a race that pretty much bred out any tendency toward affection, trained by a man who regarded them as lesser copies of himself, and *decommissioned* if they displayed too much independence (I know there are caveats to this, such as Alpha-17 and the CCs, but they had much less patience for the CTs). And here are these Jedi who love in such a blindingly open and overwhelming way. How do they cope with that? How do they not become insanely loyal to these kind, generous beings that don’t treat them like numbers for the first time in their lives??

And then there’s the other side: the squads that have the misfortune of being paired with Jedi less prone to  that innate goodness, the squads trapped with Krell and Ki-Adi-Mundi. They never get the chance to feel valued as anything other than a tool. They may have heard the word “love” but would never be allowed to experience it, platonic or otherwise…

I don’t have any grand ending thoughts here beyond the absolute tragedy that those men suffered, but I will say, it does tempt me with some utterly angsty and beautiful thoughts for emotionally crippled clone OCs and emotionally traumatized reader OCs accidentally find each other through various whumpee ways… be a shame if someone was inspired by this and tagged me in whatever may or may no come of it...

[binaryeclipse]

Demonstration

Their wrists are almost touching. 

Anakin focuses on his breathing as he and Obi-Wan circle each other in slow methodical movements. His pulse is even, beating in his neck in counterpoint to each inhale-exhale of his lungs. Their hands are poised in defensive positions between them. 

Hand-to-hand combat training with Obi-Wan has always been Anakin’s favourite. 

This close he can smell him. The musk beneath the fading smoky-sweet cologne his Master wears is growing thicker as perspiration builds over the course of their training. Sweat has darkened Obi-Wan’s hair near the roots, bringing out the rusty tones like old metal, the long fluffy strands gaining texture the more he runs his fingers through it between brief bursts of violence as they kick and strike one another. Strands of strawberry blonde are beginning to stick to his neck where Obi-Wan is growing it out, curling against his skin. 

Anakin’s arm aches with the memory of each block, bruises beginning to form like growing shadows under his skin. Obi-Wan’s touch imprinted upon him that lasts longer than the impact. He is developing a craving for them, the tender blooms of blood beneath his skin that he presses with hesitant fingers in the night when he is alone in the nest of his bed, wishing there was someone to hold him. 

He settles for this. 

Obi-Wan ducks fluidly beneath Anakin’s high kick, popping back up to deliver a strike just above the elbow. It hurts, Anakin is always tender there, but the adrenaline drowns it out and all he feels is the euphoric high of the brief contact of the calloused edge of his Master’s palm. 

Before Obi-Wan can pull away, Anakin grabs his forearm with his left hand, warm skin almost searing his palm, arm hair scratching slightly. He wants to trace the veins and arteries that are being crushed beneath his grip, follow their blue lines up to the sensitive hollow of the elbow, over the swell of strong biceps, along the sensual curve of his shoulder to the elegant column of his neck so he can pull his Master in, close and intimate. 

Instead he yanks, trying to unseat Obi-Wan’s strong stance, twisting. Obi-Wan springs, agile and acrobatic from his years of dedication to Ataru as a padawan, and flips when Anakin demands but under his own terms, landing light on his feet and reversing the hold until Anakin is at his mercy. It takes only seconds for his feet to be knocked asunder, falling out from under him so he drops like a stone. Anakin falls prone, Obi-Wan coming down atop of him, knees on either side of his body. 

Shameful arousal spreads like blood in the water between the cradle of his hips. How many nights has he spent, helplessly grinding into his mattress and imagining the protective weight of Obi-Wan pressed above him, pinning him as he pins him now but with the added fantasy of being split open around the width of his cock. Instinct screams for him to lay still, to let his Master grind into his ass, location be damned. 

He uses better judgment and struggles—shields keeping his riot of lust at bay—and trying to unseat Obi-Wan to no avail until his Master has effectively immobilized him with a powerful arm beneath his chin, forcing Anakin to bow his back as he’s pulled into an effective hold. The iron grip on his wrist that Obi-Wan pins to the small of his back is the final nail in the coffin of this fight.

“It is imperative that you do not block the airway,” Obi-Wan explains, not even out of breath, his voice intimately close to Anakin’s ear. His tone is clinical and instructing, but there is a twinge of a smile in the shape of his vowels. “We must always strive to do the least amount of damage to our opponents, whoever they are. Padawan Skywalker here is very well behaved but when you are on missions, many of your foes will not be so accommodating.” 

His Master is always so good at delivering backhanded compliments, the kind that make him squirm with both shame at the position he’s been forced into and the pride at being called well behaved. 

“But what if it’s a really bad person?” A small Mirialan initiate asks. 

Anakin’s skin burns beneath his clothing at every point where Obi-Wan’s body comes into contact with his own and he can feel it through his bones when his Master chuckles, the vibration shattering him to his core. His control over his emotions, his arousal, is fraying and he clings to keeping it contained to the shell of his mind.

“Well,” Obi-Wan considers, and Anakin can imagine his grin, all teeth and slate eyes bright. “I said no damage—I didn’t say it couldn’t hurt.” 

The initiates giggle and Anakin almost whimpers when Obi-Wan lets him go and stands up. Suddenly, he feels cold where he has been burning up like an iron planet core seconds before. Bereft, Anakin lays there on the mat a moment longer, missing the weight of his Master. His face flushes more at the thought of his shameful desires that were quickly beginning to invade every aspect of his life outside his lonely bed. He presses his forehead to the mat with a groan, willing away his impending erection.

“Anakin?” 

Polished boots appear before his eyes. 

“Surely I haven’t wounded your pride this much, my very young apprentice.” 

He pushes himself up, rising with cheer and enthusiasm to hop on his feet. After all, the demonstration was far from over, and Anakin would take small solace in the brief moments when Obi-Wan’s hands would hold him. “Never, my very old Master!” 

Obi-Wan sighs, rolling his eyes while running a hand through his hair, the light of the training salle catching on the red undertones. 

“What am I going to do with him,” he asks their tiny audience. 

The initiates giggle again, hiding happy smiles behind their hands. 

[padfootagain]

Stars in the Evening

Hello everyone! Just felt like writing a little something for our dear Obi, so here we go! (Quite proud of this one, btw, ngl...)

I hope you all like it! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x reader

Warnings: Mentions of warfare and grieving, sad, hurt/comfort

Summary: This war has taken its toll on you, but Obi-Wan is here to help.

Word Count: 2199

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

You know that it shouldn’t hurt so much anymore.

You’re at war. It happens. Dying. Killing. Surviving. Death and life mingled like never before.

It’s everywhere, in every corner of the Galaxy, around every sun in the sky. It’s everywhere, after years of fighting, you should be used to it.

You’re not. It hurts. A lot. It hurts to see your friends dying, to see hope slowly vanishing from their eyes, to take lives after lives because it’s the only way, or so they say. You’re not sure anymore. You’re not certain of anything.

You were not trained for this, though. Jedi, these are keepers of the Peace. No generals. No commanders. No soldiers at all.

And now there you are, in the gardens of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, sitting on your own on a bench, and you’re not sure of anything anymore. When you look down at your hands you’re surprised to not find them reddened with blood. When you look up at the stars above your head, you wonder if they’ll still be there tomorrow evening.

You did not expect this life, but there’s no choice, not any real one, at least. There’s the Force. There’s Life. There’s Death. And in between there are innocents to protect. That’s what you keep repeating to yourself; these are the words you believe less and less these days…

There’s one thing steady though, through the tumultuous current. One constant, as unwavering as the speed of light. A shame it’s a forbidden one…

You feel his presence before he appears. You always do. For a long time, you thought it was because of the Force, because of the peculiar way It moves around him. You’re no such fool now, after so many years.

You love him, it’s as simple as that.

When you look up, Obi-Wan is walking towards you, in his brown robes, in his beige clothes and his leather boots. He’s worried, you can tell. He’s got this frown of his, the one he wears when he is saddened or afraid. His beard and hair glimmer in the soft yellow lights of the garden, it’s warm and reassuring. You’re almost ready to smile at the mere sight of him.

Almost… not quite…

His pace slows down as he approaches, blue eyes fixed upon yours, like he’s afraid you’ll run away and disappear if he comes too close. And maybe he’s right. If he approaches, maybe you will flee. It’s easier than to face the truth.

You want him to hold you tight though. You want him to lie to you, lie to you with all he has in him. You just want him to claim that everything will be alright, just for a moment, before the world crumbles down for good.

He stops a couple of steps away from you, head slightly tilted to the side. You want to crumble. You want to let it all out, but you shouldn’t. You can’t. You’re a Jedi. You can’t let your emotions get the better of you…

He’s standing still, wrapped in his warm cloak and silence. No sound of pebbles rolling under his feet anymore. Just the distant buzzing sound of speeders crossing the gigantic city. The quiet whispers of the night. Your breathing, and his.

He lifts his hand to his face to run his fingers through his beard, his other arm crossed before his chest. He’s worried, thinking, weighing his options. You recognize the obvious sign.

“Can I do something for you, Obi-Wan?” you ask him, breaking the silence first.

He stares at you for a moment more before letting out a sigh, and letting his hands fall idly by his side.

That’s how he feels. Idle. Unable to help. He hates it with all his might.

“May I join you?”

You merely nod, scooting over to make some room for him to sit by your side. You look at him as he does so, movements slow and reassuring, soothing. You stare for a moment at his profile as he looks at the gardens before him. Dark blond hair and beard, blue eyes that seem sadder than they should be. When he looks at you and finally speaks, his voice is deep, warm, soothing. Not quite like a friend. Not like a Jedi. He speaks more like a man in love.

Is it so surprising, after all?

“I heard about what happened during your latest mission. I’m sorry.”

“It’s war.”

“Master Lios was a dear friend of yours. I’m terribly sorry.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Because there are too many conflicting thoughts in your mind right now, too many feelings you should suppress but you can’t.

You’re grieving a friend. You feel guilty for making it out of this mission alive when your friend didn’t. You feel relieved because Obi-Wan should have come with you to Tattooine, but he was called away to help Anakin at the last minute. And you feel so terribly guilty for being relieved, but you’re glad he wasn’t there, that it wasn’t Obi-Wan who came with you and died.

You shouldn’t feel like that, and yet you do. Because Master Lios was your friend, but Obi-Wan is…

You look up at him again, blue eyes catching your gaze, and the truth is engraved all over your heart.

Obi-Wan is everything.

He looks sad. Filled with pain. Infinite eyes to host a never-ending sorrow. You wish you could make it disappear, but then again, how could you? You feel just the same…

Because you’re at war. Because you’ve killed, because you saw your friend dying, because you love Obi-Wan with every fibre of your being and you’ll always be apart…

You’re a Jedi. But you’re human too. How much pain can a human take before it kills them?

Only when Obi-Wan brushes the tear falling down your cheek with his thumb do you realize you’ve been crying.

“I heard you were wounded,” he goes on, but you shake your head.

“Nothing serious. I’m fine.”

But you’re still crying, you can’t seem to be able to stop. Silent, salted tears you can’t bite back this time.

Before you can say anything else, Obi-Wan wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

He smells of candles, of leather, of warm tea. Linen. Quiet nights. Early mornings.

He smells like home.

You feel safer, all of a sudden. The lie works, and for a moment more, you believe everything will be fine. As long as he holds you close, you’ll be just fine.

He shouldn’t let himself run his fingers through your hair, shouldn’t hold you so tightly, but he can’t help it. Your eyelashes tickle his cheekbone as you close your eyes, your hair feels so smooth between his rough hands. You smell of candles, of koyo melons, of sweet soap. Cotton. Hidden whispers. Quiet dawns.

You smell like home…

“I’m not sure I can do this anymore, Obi,” you confess in a breath, shaky and fragile, words swallowed by the night as soon as they pass your lips. “It’s too hard. And I… I’m so tired…”

“I know. I know…”

“I wish we could run away,” you admit.

You feel him sighing, feel the warmth of his breath against your temple, the movement of his chest as he empties his lungs. When he kisses your forehead, you both know he shouldn’t.

None of you truly care though.

“I wish we could too,” Obi-Wan whispers against your skin, his beard tickling you as he moves his lips. “But we can’t. None of us could live with the guilt if we did. Not now, at least. Not when we are so desperately needed here.”

You nod, although you’re not as convinced as you usually are. You’ve had this talk before, the wise resolution is always the same. This time though, you wish he could change his mind, gather his things, and leave far away…

But then, the war is everywhere, in every corner of the Galaxy, around every sun in the sky. It would be useless. There are too many ghosts to leave behind. They would always end up following you. Besides, if you left, how many more ghosts would be born out of your absence?

He’s right. You know he is. It still hurts all the same.

You tighten your hold on him, fists grasping at the smooth fabric of his clothes. As if holding onto a lifeline.

“What if you’re the next one?” you ask, voicing this fear that’s devouring your heart, that’s keeping you awake at night. Your voice is so drenched with tears, so tight in your throat, you barely recognise it as your own. “What if you leave me? What would I do then? Obi-Wan, what would I do if you died?”

But he shakes his head, holding your face in both his hands, thumbs grazing across the smooth skin of your cheeks in a delicate caress. He smiles.

“I will not pretend that there are no risks at all. But it doesn’t matter, Y/N. I’m here. I'll always be here for you. Don't you know that by now? That I'll never leave? Not really, at least. Not the way it matters."

He takes your hand, guides your palm to rest on his chest, right over his heart, so you can feel its steady beating.

“I should not give it away,” he breathes, words that he shouldn’t say but they’re true all the same. “And yet, it belongs to you. Always have. Always will. Even if something happened out there, I would always look after you. Through the Force. I would always be there.”

You nod, and you don’t need to speak the words for him to know that you feel the same. That your heart belongs to him, that it has for what seems like forever, that it will always belong to him.

“I’m so scared,” you let out in a murmur. “And I know it’s not the Jedi way, but I can’t help it. I’m just… I’m so tired…”

“I know. I know…”

“And this… the way I feel for you… I simply cannot… ignore it. It hurts. It’s painful and maybe… Maybe I love you a little too much, and that's why it hurts sometimes."

You let out a trembling sigh, before leaning to rest your head on Obi-Wan shoulder. He rests his cheek against your hair.

“Do you think I’m weak, for feeling this way?” you ask him.

But he shakes his head, voice hoarse, his throat too tight.

“No, of course not. I think… this is war. And we were taught to love all. How can we fight a war if we’re meant to love and protect even those we must destroy? And we have lost so much already… I do not think you are weak. Not at all. I simply think you’re tired, and in pain. After all you’ve had to live through, it isn’t that surprising. But I also know that you are brave, caring, generous, and loyal to a fault. And I know that no matter how you feel now, tomorrow, when your help is needed, you will answer. Because you were born for this, just like I was. And it is not our way to let others suffer when we can help, even if just a little, even if we can’t save them all.”

You nod, because he’s right. Tomorrow, after a sleepless night, you know perfectly well what will happen. You’ll meditate in your chamber as the sun rises over the skyscrapers, setting their windows on fire. You’ll get dressed. Head for a breakfast you’ll barely touch at all. Laugh at Ahsoka and Anakin and their everlasting banter, because you always do. You’ll talk with Obi-Wan, trying to hide the way you want to kiss his lips every time they move. You’ll train for a while. You’ll wash up and you’ll head to the Council Meeting, and you’ll listen to the reports and you’ll tell about what happened to Lios. And then Master Yoda and Master Windu will turn to you with a new mission, a new village to protect, a new base to evacuate. And you’ll accept, with a bend of your head. Silent. Obedient. Because you know that if you don’t help, no one else will.

“I wish we could be selfish, just for once,” you plead. “I wish you could stay. Just this once. I wish we could both stay and be as we were before all this: a little more innocent; a little more carefree.”

“These times have passed. They are only memories now. But I am still here. I am still here.”

You let him hold you for a little longer. And you wish he would kiss you, but you know he won’t. Because you are both Jedi. Because it would hurt too much to believe in love when dawns are bathed in blood rather than hopes. Because it would hurt him too much if he let himself love you the way he craves to.

Instead, it’s better to hold you tight, and to pretend it’s enough; as if he were certain that the stars above your heads would still be here tomorrow evening...

[dai-bendu-conlang]

hi! i just recently stumbled across this project and first off, massive fan of what y'all are doing here! (linguistics <3)

but i was wondering if there was any particular reason you've only created the one pronoun for second person, as opposed to separating the singular and plural as you've done with the rest? it just reads a bit funny to me as an ESL speaker, so i was curious as to your thought process ^^

i hope you all have a good day! (and that i'm making sense, it is... rather late here oops)

Hi! Assuming you’re referring to “keel” if I inferred this correctly?

We chose this to be representative of community. I have a half finished essay on our pronouns floating around (but as you can tell, we’re all not really into Star Wars anymore) and the section on that is pretty much:

This sense of community is also mirrored in the use of the singular and plural second person pronoun keel. The reason why Dai Bendu has only one word for those two pronouns is highlighting the role a single person plays in a community. As a culture that abhors leaving people without support, and has made it their very mission to improve the galaxy, the idea of a person being alone is absolutely terrible. Their grammar reflects that. Addressing a singular you also always means addressing the plural you, the community they stem from. This is also something the Jedi practice themselves. In Rogue Planet, after Anakin got into trouble, it is not just him that has to attend a disciplinary hearing but Obi-Wan too.

Mace was unrelenting. "I ask again, what was your error?"

“I brought shame upon the order and the Temple," Anakin responded quickly now, his voice high and soft.

"That is hardly precise. Again, your error?"

"To break the laws of the municipality, and. . and..."

“No!" Mace declared, and his smile vanished, replaced by a stern expression, like the dark underside of a cloud heretofore painted by sun. Anakin flinched.

"Obi-Wan, explain to your Padawan his error. It does, after all, arise from the same roots as your own." Mace regarded Obi-Wan with a lifted brow.

Obi-Wan considered this intently for a long moment before answering. Nobody tried to rush him. Inner truth was a perilous journey, even for a Jedi.

"I see it," he said. "We both want certainty."

Anakin stared at his master with a puzzled frown.

"Explain to us all how you have failed your Padawan," Mace said, gently enough, considering the turnabout in the proceedings.

"He and I are far too young for the luxury of certainty," Obi-Wan began. "Our experience is insufficient to earn us even momentary peace. As well, I have been more concerned with his growth than my own, distracted by his obvious flaws, rather than using his mirror to guide me, so that I may in turn guide him."

Your actions and the way you behave reflect upon your entire community as they brought you up and raised.

From Power of the Jedi Sourcebook:

"When a Jedi behaves badly in public, an observer might think, 'If this Jedi is a representative of the whole Order, then plainly no Jedi is worth respect.' On meeting a second Jedi, who behaves better than the first, that same person might think, 'Does this say that half the Jedi are good, and half bad?' On meeting a third Jedi, who behaves as well as the second, the person thinks, 'Was the first Jedi an exception, then?' In this way, only by the good behavior of several Jedi can the public be certain that the poor behavior of one Jedi was unusual. Thus, it takes many Jedi to undo the mistakes of one."

When considering all these passionate notes, it only seemed appropriate to us that the value system for our pronouns is community based to give the Jedi a chance to express how much they love their Order via grammar. Encoding information about social categories into pronouns is also nothing new and can be found in various languages across language families.

So, in that sense, that but of Dai Bendu is rather artificial instead of following a natlang development, but we thought it was neat

[fionajames]

Favourite sw writer of mine could you please write anything including force ghost Obi-Wan and Anakin I miss them..

Sorrow and Solace.

aww im ur fav? YAY!

OFC YOU CAN!

Im not entirely sure of this is what you want but here you go!

I wrote this as though it were poetry, so read it in that tone.

Anakin watched as Ahsoka swung her lightsaber, eyes closed with focus. She’s been scouring the galaxy for traces of Thrawn but right now, she was training. He watched fondly as she repeated numerous lightsaber techniques. 

“How is she doing?” A voice called and he turned to see Obi-Wan, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. It felt so wrong to see him with white-haired-features and he loathed looking into the eyes of the brother he killed. He killed Obi-Wan. He’d never forgive himself for that.

“As usual,” Anakin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Still reckless and still searching.”

“And she won’t stop until she does,” Obi-Wan smiled, staring at his former Grand-Padawan. He fondly laughed as he watched, and Anakin turned to him.

“What?” He asked, smiling as the happiness seeked through their bond. Although it was shattered moments later.

“I just realised,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Just before the First Battle of Geonosis, I told you you were going to be the death of me, and look where we are now!” He laughed as though he’d made the funniest joke ever. Anakin wasn’t finding it funny. He shrunk back, shame eating at his insides at the reminder. Obi-Wan turned to him - still laughing - but upon seeing his brother’s shattered expression, he faltered. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you have to bring that up?” Anakin choked out, a tear falling from his eyelashes. Obi-Wan’s heart shattered as he moved to wrap his brother up in a hug, sobs spilling from the boy in despair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered in response, running a hand through the boy’s brown hair soothingly. “It’s okay. You were manipulated, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I killed you!” He croaked. “I killed you and Padmé and almost killed Ahsoka and my own son and daughter on several occasions! I destroyed the Jedi Order and now the Galaxy are spending decades attempting to rebuild it! I kriffed up! Very badly! I’m a monster!”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chided softly, continuing to play with his brother’s hair as he wept. “You were manipulated,” he repeated and the brunette sniffled, burying his face in his shoulder. Anakin clung to Obi-Wan like he might disappear, like he was his lifeline, like he was a dying man and Obi-Wan were his last moments of peace and joy. 

“I’m so sorry,” the brunette repeated. He looked up to meet Obi-Wan’s swimming blue eyes with his own teary ones, storms of self-hatred and sorrow. 

The sorrow-eyed boy and his brother with the light.

“We’ve all forgiven you,” the light-eyed man spoke softly, words of velvet, honey and silk. Words of warmth and gentle jubilation, intertwined with comfort and laced in solace. 

“But have I forgiven myself?”

“You must learn to.” The sorrow-eyed boy looked to meet the light, searching for lies that could not be found. “We’ve all learned to for our own mistakes. Now you must too.”

“But the galaxy can not forgive me.”

“Maybe they won’t, but there is no hope for the possibility they will if you can not forgive yourself. That is the first step. The first step to the bigger and better future.”

hope you enjoyed!

dont forgot to request!

[aspentreewrites]

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 2

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (for current arc) slow burn, fake dating, only one bed, general angst and pining, Obi-Wan is not as mentally stable as he may seem, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Link to read on AO3 here!

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and thank you to @whenyourfavouritedies (their AO3 link here) for beta reading.

Fun fact: my WIP document title for this chapter was 'middle aged man yaoi', so do with that what you will. Get ready for much pining and shenanigans - also an exceedingly indulgent dive into my favourite lightsaber headcanons.

Please let me know if you're interested in being added to a taglist!

Wordcount: 9.6k - link to chapter 1 here

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Cody wakes slowly, a number of objective facts about his surroundings flitting through his awareness as he produces a tactical assessment of the situation he finds himself in.

The first thing he notices is sunlight. Soft, gentle, yet altogether far too much brightness pressing against his eyelids for this time in the morning. A low groan slips its way out of Cody’s mouth as he presses his face into his pillow, trying in vain to chase the peaceful dream he's been rudely woken from. Something to do with a pair of pet tookas…? It’s lost to him now, despite his efforts.

The second thing Cody takes stock of is the solid, steady, yet altogether unfamiliar warmth of something nearby to him. Something, his mind supplies to him lazily, that’s breathing.

This series of truths might, on a usual morning, serve to alarm the Commander in his half-awake state; this morning, however, Cody just finds himself sinking back into the allure of a light doze. 

You’re safe here, his subconscious whispers to him, just let yourself rest.

It’s not the message he’s used to hearing upon waking in an unfamiliar location. He spares a moment to marvel at the rarity of it all, before he gives himself over to it, completely.

It’s only later when a light, warm breeze passes through the room, courtesy of the balcony door he’d left ajar the previous night, that Cody finally opens his eyes.

… And with the action, he finds himself jolted into awareness with all the subtlety of a raging bantha. He remembers where he is. Exactly where he is. A luxurious hotel room, a number of gaudy decoration choices, and a kriffing Jedi asleep in bed beside him.

Cody swallows thickly.

Slowly, carefully, he shifts to sit up so they’re not laying facing one another as they were. He thanks every deity he knows of for the fact that they’d remained relatively on their own sides of the bed last night - if they were any closer, he’s not sure he could have handled it. 

As he watches the steady rise and fall of the sheets with each breath from Obi-Wan, Cody feels a painfully familiar ache in his chest - one he’d long-since promised himself he would forget. 

As much as it would be easier for him to continue to pretend that he has absolutely no idea what’s been causing this uncomfortable reaction from him for the past week or so, he’s beginning to suspect that he knows better.

Damn his traitorous heart to Moraband, and let it rot there.

It’s a stubborn infatuation - an entirely unprofessional (and, he’d thought, temporary) interest that he’d taken in the other man a short ways into his deployment. 

It had, nonetheless, begun to haunt his mind during the quiet moments of those early months.

It’s not that it was an unusual thing to happen - in the early days of the war, the vode were gaining feelings for the Jedi they were serving with left right and centre. They were the first people they’d met outside of the Kaminoans… it was, in many ways, inevitable.

The thing is that most of the men’s feelings ended up dissipating over time. The longer they were deployed, the more frequently they met other non-clones who were fascinating, and kind, and who treated them like people. Crucially, these non-clones also happened to not be part of an order that forbade any form of romantic attachment.

It had taken time, and a considerable amount of discipline, but Cody had come to count himself among these numbers of individuals who had managed to move on.

Had.

The Commander might consider himself an expert in denial, in delaying acknowledging his feelings until they either quell or are forced to spill over, but he’s far from a fool. As unsure as he is about why it’s returned now of all times, he recognises that flutter in his heart when he feels it.

He sighs softly. Not much use in brushing it off now.

In the quiet of the early morning, with only the sunlight and the sound of the birds outside to keep him company, Cody allows himself a singular moment of weakness.

He returns his gaze to the sleeping Jedi beside him, and lets himself take a moment to just… look. 

Stars, Obi-Wan is a beautiful, beautiful man.

Hair fans out across the pillow beneath him, set aglow in the soft light of the dawn and unspooled like golden thread. His freckles are almost countable at this distance, as are the slight indents of wrinkles, faint lines that have become progressively more pronounced over the course of the war. 

Cody finds he looks so much more real when softened with sleep - no longer the perfect Jedi General, a poster-child of the war effort, but a tangible, flawed, flesh-and-blood man.

Over the years, Cody has found himself making note of the several crows feet that have begun to nest at the outer corner of his Jedi’s eyes, the worry lines that have found their home at his forehead. 

The everpresent crease between Obi-Wan's brows is eased in rest, though not nearly enough. Cody has to resist the urge to gently press his thumb there in a bid to encourage the muscles to relax further.

Cody does his best to not let his gaze, as inappropriately indulgent as he’s being, dip below the neckline, or further, to where the sheets pool at the other man’s chest. It’s certainly not helping his situation to discover now of all times that his General apparently sleeps shirtless.

The Jedi lets out a soft murmur as he begins to stir; Cody shakes his head to dispel his wandering thoughts. He takes the movement as a sign that his temporary surrender to the yearning of his heart must come to an end. He's felt it, he's acknowledged it… now comes the time to put it to rest and tell it to leave him be once more.

… He just hopes it’ll listen this time.

Quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping man beside him, Cody slips out of the bed to grab his clothes and steal away to the ‘fresher for a morning shower.

He’s grateful for the distraction that trying to solve the enigma of the shower provides him, even if it means he has to take nearly ten minutes to navigate getting the damn thing to work. It seems to be an immutable rule of his life that in every hotel or inn that Cody is doomed to stay in, the only shower available exists solely on settings that are inscrutable to the average man. 

Waxer had claimed one day after training, with an entirely misplaced air of wisdom about him, that every sentient has both one mundane superpower, and one boring facet of life they’ll forever have inexplicably bad luck with.

His brothers had teased him endlessly about the idea, upon which he had confessed he had read it in an article linked to by some cheesy pop-psych holonet forum. It hadn’t helped his cause.

Cody had initially scoffed at the idea along with the others, though he quietly suspects that if there is any truth to it, then his divine misfortune must absolutely, unequivocally be the way unfamiliar showers seem to go out of their way to break on him.

On the other hand he had determined –after deciding there was no harm in entertaining Waxer’s superstitions a little– his mundane superpower would probably be his uncanny ability to end up with his General’s lightsaber whenever he loses it in critical moments. 

If only the other man actually kept his eyes open on the battlefield… though Cody would be lying if he told himself he doesn’t privately enjoy the way Obi-Wan’s expression always softens in both gratitude and sheepishness whenever he holds out the recovered weapon to return to him. It would almost be a shame if the Jedi suddenly gained competency in holding onto his precious items now. 

No, his mind is straying back to dangerous territory again. Breathe. 

Cody refocuses, directing his attention to the sensation of his blunt nails running across his scalp, digging in just a little harder to create a point of focus to ground himself with. In the present moment, all he needs to think of is getting ready for the day. No need to reckon with unnecessary, transient, emotions. 

Once his shower is finished and he returns to the room, he’s met with Obi-Wan, awake and sitting cross-legged on the bed in a meditative position. He doesn’t open his eyes as Cody steps through, though his lips quirk upwards just slightly, the hint of a smile hidden behind his beard.

“Ah, good morning, my friend.” 

By the sound of his voice, it would be impossible to tell he was asleep just minutes prior. Always perfectly lucid and alert when he needs to be… Cody has privately wondered if it’s thanks to some supernatural ability from the Force that Obi-Wan is able to bypass the half-awake stupor that everyone else seems to struggle with. It does sound like some osik that Jedi would be able to do…

Being honest with himself though, he imagines it’s probably just an ‘Obi-Wan’ thing. Most of the man’s oddities seem to be.

“Morning,” he returns, sounding considerably more gruff than his companion as he scratches at his stubble. He’s had to forego shaving for the past few days to look right for the part, and it’s starting to get irritating to deal with. 

“Sleep well?”

Cody hums in response to the question, absently heading across the room to open the small fridge in their room in search of something to drink. He spares a horrified glance at the prices on the tiny cans inside, before promptly closing it again.

“Mm,” he returns his attention to the still shirtless man sitting on their shared bed. He tries not to think about the implications the thought provides him. “Surprisingly well, actually.”

Obi-Wan nods, tilting his head slightly in Cody's direction, eyes remaining closed.

“Benefits of the ocean air, do you think?” he suggests. 

Cody is incredibly aware that it wasn’t that at all. He manages to only briefly pause before getting out an answer.

“... Something like that, I'm sure.”

Before the two get ready for the morning, they take a moment to pore over what they need to get done before their mission starts in earnest this evening. The agenda for this first day is a relatively simple one: gather as much information as they possibly can about the resort’s layout, entrance and exit points, and try to get a sense of any particular locations they could make use of for eavesdropping on their targets at the party tonight.

The main man they’re keeping an eye out for is Atashe Barrek - a Rodian that they only have a handful of grainy holos of, but thankfully for them happens to have a distinctive, bright red tattoo of a rifle covering the majority of his left arm.

(Obi-Wan had raised his brow at that, upon an initial glance. Cody snorted at the look of disapproval, throwing him a playfully warning glance. “Careful,” he said, flicking through the projected images, “half of the boys have something as tasteless. Wouldn’t want to go insulting them, would you?”

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose a little. “Our men tattoo each other. That’s a ritual that means more than how it ends up looking after the fact. This was likely done by a professional.” He looked down at his datapad with a sigh, and made a note on Barrek’s file. He had tutted softly then, and Cody had to disguise his smirk behind his mug of caf. “Really, I’m unsure of what you want me to say, Commander. It’s garish.”)

Alongside the Rodian will be a handful of others there to facilitate the deal - a human woman with short ginger hair, a Togruta man with one broken montral, and a Separatist agent of unknown species and gender.

The party, such that it is, will be attended by a fair few resort-goers in the evening. They have it on good authority that Barrek and company secured their tickets early, making it a near guarantee that they’ll be present tonight. It’ll be taking place at the hotel’s casino and bar area on the lower ground floor - a fairly large space, which could be both a boon and a curse: more room for them to hide and listen in without being spotted, but equally more space where their quarry can slip out of sight.

Cody brings up a small projection of the resort’s floor plan, setting it on the edge of the bed. It’s basic at current, with just the barebones annotations they’d made upon arrival yesterday. He makes a gesture with his hand to enlarge the image, looking over at Obi-Wan.

“I’ll take the ground floor and the immediate outside area. With any luck I’ll also be able to mark down vantage points for when the party spills out to the gardens at a later point.”

He points to a different part of the map, zooming in a little further. “While I’m doing that, you can have a look through the casino and the adjacent dining area. Maybe get talking to one of the bartenders if they’re around, see if they can tell us about the party setup tonight. If we can get a sense of how many tables there’ll be out, we can see how fast we’ll be able to move in an emergency.”

Obi-Wan nods with a thoughtful hum, stroking a hand over his chin.

“That sounds perfectly reasonable. What time is the event starting?”

Cody checks the chrono on the nightstand, currently cheerfully displaying that it is 8:42am on the local rotation. 

“1900 hours. So we’ve got a considerable amount of time before then.”

“Shall we reconvene here at four to combine notes, if we’re not back before then? It would be a good idea to grab some dinner together too, if we are to be consuming alcohol.” 

Cody powers down the holoprojector, shooting Obi-Wan a smirk. “Are you sure any alcohol consumption is a good idea though, sir, being the lightweight that you are?”

The Jedi narrows his eyes at the challenge. “The dinner was a suggestion for you, my dear Commander, lest you forget that I can use the Force to flush my systems of any substances.”

“I’m just saying,” Cody shrugs. “It doesn’t change the fact that you get drunk incredibly quickly when you don’t cheat about it.”

“When I don’t cheat?” Obi-Wan scoffs in mock-offence, placing a dramatic hand over his heart as he stands to head for the refresher. “I’m outraged,” he declares, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Wounded. I’m starting to regret my choice of compatriot on this mission.”

“Uh-huh.” Cody pockets the projector, glancing over his shoulder as Obi-Wan walks away. “Oh, I should mention. You’ll have to pull the shower head away from the wall to get the hot water to work.”

Obi-Wan pauses briefly in the doorway. “Oh. That’s... unique. Thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Being helpful.”

The Jedi quirks a brow, mouth pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. “Oh? And here I thought your talents were limited to passively criticising me every five minutes.”  

Cody huffs out a chuckle, meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze. Despite the other man’s irritation, a soft glint in his eye gives way to the fond nature of his teasing. “No, that’s just one of my better qualities. Only the clones with the most sparkling of personalities get made Commander, you know.”

“Wonderful. I’m so pleased for you,” Obi-Wan returns dryly, before slipping into the bathroom and clicking the door shut behind him.

Cody watches after him for a beat, his expression soft as he feels an all-too-familiar stirring in his chest. Blinking, he shakes his head, as if physically dispelling the emotions plaguing him. Time to focus, Commander. There’s work to be done. 

______________________________

Obi-Wan considers himself a rational man. Not easily swayed by his emotion, and always taking the route of most reason.

It is perplexing, then, that he cannot seem to rid himself of the strange fluttering that’s been happening in his heart for the past few hours. He sits at the edge of his bed, rubbing a hand over his brow as he revisits the events of the day in his mind once again.

It had been a fairly routine skirmish all things considered: pushing back Separatist forces from an occupied village in Republic space. Thick smoke had engulfed the field from the explosives that had been set there, and at the time he had been sprinting through it in low visibility, single-mindedly trying to get through to a group of civilians on the other end. 

And then, emerging from the smoke at his side had been his Commander. 

He’d shouted something his way, though Obi-Wan had been too distracted to take it in. Instead, his attention had been pulled to the way Cody’s arm had been outstretched, a lightsaber in his hand. His lightsaber. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t even realised he’d dropped it. 

Something other than the smog had choked his lungs for a brief moment. 

He, of course, hadn’t had the time to explain just the implications of what Cody had just done. He’d simply taken it, thanked him, and rushed ahead to get the mission done. It doesn’t really matter that it was perhaps something the Commander might be embarrassed by had he known - Obi-Wan had needed the weapon at the time, and ultimately that was what mattered. 

Still, the crystal inside had hummed in his mind, something a little too warm and content given the context, as it was pressed into his palm.

He looks down at the weapon in his hands now, absent-mindendly running his fingers over the cool metal of the hilt.

Anthropomorphising a kyber crystal isn’t exactly the right way to go about things - it doesn’t have feelings in the same way a sentient would, per se. It’s more that it is an emotionally resonant mineral that is heavily in tune with the Force - a fact that allows it to bond itself with the Jedi that chooses it.

Still, in this specific instance, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that it felt… happy. A soft buzz in the back of his consciousness that had nothing to do with being returned to him and absolutely everything to do with the man who had been holding it a few moments ago. He’d nearly stumbled in surprise when he first held it in his hand again.

… And then there was the matter of Cody holding it in the first place.

Your lightsaber, Qui-Gon had impressed repeatedly upon Obi-Wan, who in turn had passed on (even more frequently, given the boy’s forgetfulness) to Anakin, is more than a weapon - it is your very life. 

As such, asking another to wield or hold yours is an… intimate thing - almost equivalent to allowing someone to hold a piece of your soul in their palm or clipped to their belt.

It’s not an infrequent request to make from one close member of the Order to another, particularly between Masters and their Padawans, but it is understood each time as a sacred responsibility to undertake. 

To trust a non-Jedi to hold your lightsaber is practically a marriage proposal. 

Cody hadn’t known, of course - how could he have done? In any other circumstance, Obi-Wan would have simply dismissed the motion as something a little awkward but ultimately harmless and silently vowed to keep a closer eye on his weapon in the future.

No, the problem here, the one that has Obi-Wan feeling so out of sorts now, isn’t that it happened, but rather that it didn’t feel nearly as strange as it should have.

It has, admittedly, only been a few months since he first met the man, but the trust shared between the two would position Cody as the next most likely person after Anakin, Bant, or Quinlan (though he’s reluctant to admit to that last one), that he might ask to take care of his ‘saber in a time of need. 

It should be, he thinks to himself, a fact that means nothing other than the proof of the camaraderie that has grown between them.

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan knows himself a little better than that. 

Only one other non-Jedi had ever felt the weight of his lightsaber in their hands, and that was Satine, many lifetimes ago, now. 

Obi-Wan sighs deeply, holstering it back to his belt as he stands, eager to shake such thoughts from his mind. He will meditate on the situation, put the image of the other man emerging from the smoke from his mind, and that will be that.

As the war progresses, days bleeding into weeks bleeding into months, Obi-Wan continues to tell himself that one day he’ll come clean. That he’ll tell Cody exactly what it means for him to hold his lightsaber as easily as he does, and appropriately apologise for not speaking up about it earlier.

That voice in his mind gets progressively quieter as time marches on.

About a year into the war, Obi-Wan knows it’s far too late for him. It’s a quiet, shameful feeling, but one he has come to know intimately.

When his Commander adds a holster to his armour specifically for his lightsaber, Obi-Wan feels as if his own heart may as well be nestled there, too, steadily beating at the side of the man who’s come to mean so much to him as of late.

It is inappropriate in far too many ways, and equally as forbidden, but he is at peace knowing this. He just feels sorry that Cody, while under his command, is subject to his clandestine and thoroughly unprofessional affectations, even if he is unaware of it.

Perhaps, once the war is finally over and Cody has his own space and freedom, he can finally confess to his shame, and ask for his friend’s forgiveness.

… Though he isn’t certain he deserves it.

______________________________

The chrono on the bedside table pips loudly as it hits 7pm.

Cody spares it a brief glance before he returns to his cufflinks, fiddling with them for a moment longer. It would be a stretch to call the suit he’d been provided with by the Council formal, by any means.

The navy jacket is a little oversized, and has been altered to appear worn with a patch of fabric over one of the breasts. His trousers are a mismatched shade of blue to the rest of the suit, the white button-down shirt he’s wearing unironed and crumpled. Cody feels that he wouldn’t look out of place on some neon sign blazed down in the Lower Levels of Coruscant, with the word ‘WANTED’ pasted underneath and a ridiculous sum of credits. 

He’s been given a scuffed silver watch to wear on one wrist, and his loosened curls have been pulled into the closest thing he can get to a bun behind his head, though the frontmost strands at his temples can’t quite reach and instead fall down to frame his face.

After a moment of consideration in the mirror, he turns up his collar. Vidarr is, after all, not a man overly concerned with appearances.

At that moment, Obi-Wan steps out of the ‘fresher, brushing down his clothes. He’s in a suit of his own, a plain, sleek black material with a deep blue pocket square. The Council didn’t deem fit to embarrass him like they have Cody, though he supposes it makes sense. Renne did have a mark on his file claiming he was ‘stylish’, after all.

The Jedi offers a supportive smile as he heads over, hands raising to gently flatten down Cody’s collar. An electric current moves through the Commander at the smoothing motion, his skin tingling at the contact, even through the layers of clothing. “There we go,” Obi-Wan murmurs softly, “now you look the part.”

As soon as his hands have retreated, Cody frowns, turning it up again.

“It was a deliberate choice,” he protests, feeling oddly defensive.

Obi-Wan hums at that, before reaching out once more to fix it.

“It was a poor one, darling.”

Cody is certain the term of endearment is a joke, something done exclusively to poke fun at their given aliases, but he feels his chest tighten nonetheless.

The two manage to keep up their petulant staring match for a few seconds before cracking into smiles. 

“Well,” Obi-Wan says, slipping his hands into his pockets and nodding towards the door, “shall we?”

Together, they head down the hall to the lift, taking it down to the basement level of the resort. Obi-Wan’s posture changes markedly as soon as the elevator doors slide open, facing the line of people waiting to get inside the event. Confidently, he saunters forwards to join the queue, one hand remaining tucked into the pocket of his jacket and the other slung lazily around Cody’s side. 

The Commander tries his best to match him, loosening his posture as much as his body will allow, fighting against the way he instinctively wants to straighten up whenever someone so much as glances their way.

When it’s their turn to enter, Obi-Wan flashes their tickets to the bouncer, who waves them through a large set of double doors.

Cody takes in a steadying breath as he’s near-immediately confronted with an assault to the senses, his eyes scanning across the open space ahead of them. 

To their left is a series of slot machines that are already all occupied with patrons, the loud chimes and whirring of the motors as they spin contributing to an overwhelming level of background noise when combined with the chatter of the eager and already tipsy clientele.

Directly ahead of them lies the bar, where a majority of the partygoers are currently gathered. The rest of the space that isn’t blocked with statues, plants, and other manner of decoration is packed to the brim with tables and various seating arrangements. 

A buffet to the right is boasting freshly-cooked local delicacies, though Cody isn’t certain that a planet that has only ever been owned by corporate investors can really claim to have ‘local roots’ as they seem insistent on doing.

Some tinny, yet upbeat jazzy music plays from speakers throughout the hall. The general chaos of the atmosphere is not Cody’s usual scene, to put it lightly.

A gentle squeeze from the hand at his waist doesn’t serve to calm his nerves.

“Shall we split up?” he murmurs, glancing over at Obi-Wan. “You take the left side, I take the right?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker over Cody’s face, hesitancy in his expression. “That would be wise, but… are you certain? I don’t want to leave you to the wolves if…”

“I’ll be fine,” Cody insists, cutting him off with a slightly forced smile. “Besides, the worst that could go wrong is an awkward interaction, right?”

“Right,” Obi-Wan nods at that, giving him a grateful smile. “Then, yes, divide and conquer would be the best way to start, I think.” He leans in, pressing his lips close to Cody’s ear in a move that, to outside observers, would easily read as normal for two lovers. To Cody, it just serves to make his mind go entirely blank.

“Comms are on. Stay in contact,” he whispers, and Cody forces himself to not shiver at the feeling of his breath ghosting over his skin. Shields, Cody, he reminds himself forcibly, scrambling to throw up a mental wall so that his Jedi isn’t slapped in the face with the incredibly embarrassing intensity of his reaction.

He gives Obi-Wan what he hopes is a not-at-all shaky smile as the two part ways, slipping through the throng of people to get to the buffet table. He can stall a little while here, make use of the vantage point to try and pick out any familiar faces. 

Within seconds, a waiter glides past with a tray in hand, and offers him a well-rehearsed smile. “Drink?” she asks, plucking a flute from the precariously balanced platter and holding it out to him.

“Uh, sure. Thanks,” he says, taking the glass from her. He sips at it idly while looking over the assembled guests. Granted, Cody is not a regular drinker of champagne, but he gets the feeling that it tastes cheaper than it probably should for a hotel such as this. Not that he’ll complain about free alcohol - the prices at the bar, in comparison, are painful to even look directly at.

He watches the partygoers mill around for a little while, eyes dancing over the crowd as he instinctively monitors the changing threat levels of the unfolding situation around him. 

There’s a door nearby to the adjoining restaurant that looks like it would become a choke point in an emergency, that’s a trample risk - there really should be more guards on duty here, given the number of guests. All it would take was one aggressor…

Cody sighs, leaning against the wall as he continues to idly observe the goings-on. Perhaps he’s just overcautious from a life spent embroiled in war, but crowds like this set him on edge.

It’s not all too long before something familiar catches the periphery of his vision, and he turns his head subtly to make note of it without being too obvious. Blue skin and the flash of an aggressively red tattoo… It seems he has eyes on one of his marks - the Rodian. Cody pretends to be preoccupied with tucking his hair behind his ear as he discreetly flicks his comms on and off once, twice to get Obi-Wan’s attention.

He moves to follow as casually as he can, making as if he’s perusing the canapé offerings while sidling closer to the other side of the room. From the corner of his eye, he sees Barrek, two humans, and a Togruta take their seats at a table in the corner, drinks in hand. Jackpot.

He feels an arm slip around his shoulder as Obi-Wan finds him amongst the crowd, drink in hand. Cody manages to shoot him a plastered-on grin.

“Hey, uh, sweetheart,” he says, the words coming out a little stilted. It feels unnatural falling from his lips, but Obi-Wan is gracious enough to not look too amused at his discomfort. “I was thinking we could take that table over there,” he points to a tiny table behind a divider, a few metres away from their quarry. “But there’s only one chair. Perhaps we could ask that group if they can spare one?” 

He punctuates his words by discreetly toying with the proximity listening device in his pocket. Obi-Wan thankfully seems to catch his meaning.

The Jedi turns, drawing the two over to Barrek’s table. “Of course, love. Hey, guys,” he says, a little louder, and Cody internally sighs. He’s entirely certain by now that he absolutely hates the damn voice Obi-Wan is using for this persona, and he’s already looking forward to never hearing it again. “Mind if we take a chair?” 

The group turns, and Barrek gives Obi-Wan a fairly disgruntled look up and down. Obi-Wan, for his part, does a good job of looking like the oblivious tourist, unaware of his intrusions on a clearly private conversation.

“... Why can’t you get a chair from any other table?” he responds gruffly, and Cody takes the opportunity while they’re all looking at Obi-Wan to discreetly attach the small device to the underside of an unused plate sitting near the edge of the table.

One of the human women places a hand on Barrek’s shoulder and shoots him a reproachful look.

“It’s just a chair, Atashe. No need to be such an ass.” She nudges him, and the Rodian scowls, but ultimately backs down, slumping in his chair. The woman gives Obi-Wan a polite smile. “Don’t mind him. It’s all yours.”

“Thank you kindly,” Obi-Wan drawls, taking the chair and pulling it away to the small corner table a little ways from them.

“Let’s hope this works,” Cody mutters, slipping in the earpiece as subtly as he can manage while they take their seats.

Obi-Wan swirls the drink in his glass, and takes a sip. “Let’s hope the cleaning staff don’t take that plate.

“Mm. Now all they have to do is stay close enough, and we should be good to go.”

Cody takes in a breath as he hears voices crackling through the receiver. He leans in, reaching over to take Obi-Wan’s hand so their quiet words look a little more like intimate conversation.

“It’s coming through,” he murmurs, and Obi-Wan smiles. At this distance, the action might be enough to be lethal.

“Good work, Commander.”

The two fall quiet as Cody begins to listen in, the bustling sounds of the party around them fading to background noise.

______________________________

“Oh, Obi-Wan.”

“Do not,” the Jedi Master mutters, scowling into his glass, “take that patronising tone with me.”

To his credit, Anakin doesn’t smirk or make some ill-advised quip as he usually would. Instead, he just takes a seat across the table from him, an unreadable expression on his face. 

A heavy silence permeates the air between them. The ticking of the chrono on Obi-Wan’s desk seems louder than usual, off-kilter from its normal steady rhythm. Or maybe that’s just an illusion courtesy of the alcohol. It’s getting hard to tell.

“I’m just… worried,” the younger man starts, pointedly ignoring the way Obi-Wan grumbles under his breath and ploughing on regardless. “Look, they’re sending Rex to the mind healers because of everything. And neither of you are talking about what happened down there, and–.”

Obi-Wan raises a hand to interrupt him and finally looks up, meeting Anakin’s concerned gaze with unfocused, red-rimmed eyes. “I’ve had worse,” he says gruffly, finishing off his drink and wincing a little as his throat burns. It’s a pleasant type of hurt, especially in comparison to the past week. “Besides, you were there, too,” he points out, and his former apprentice scoffs.

“Yeah, but I was engaged with the Queen. I wasn’t being worked half to death by the kriffing slavers!”

“Language, Anakin,” he warns.

“Deflection, Obi-Wan,” comes the counter.

They glare at each other stubbornly for a few moments, neither wanting to lose this battle, but ultimately the older man is far too exhausted to keep this up. He slumps back in his chair, defeated, and lets his head loll against the backrest as he squints upwards. 

The world is the tiniest bit hazy from the alcohol, and the intensity of the fluorescent lighting overhead creates a throbbing pressure behind his eyes.

Obi-Wan could flush the sensation out, purging his blood back to purity with the slightest bit of concentration in the Force, giving him his senses back and taking away the pain.

He doesn’t.

“You know I’m not going to speak of it,” he says slowly.

Anakin turns his head towards him slightly, digesting his words.“... I know. Not yet, at least,” he murmurs. 

Obi-Wan continues to stare at the ceiling, absently noting the way black spots dance in his vision as he sluggishly blinks.

“So why are you really here?”

Anakin sighs softly and stands, heading over to flick off the overhead lights. Obi-Wan lets out a quiet, pathetic noise of protest as the dull ache disappears. In the low lamplight, the Jedi Knight steps over to his former Master, fixing him with a worried frown.

“Cody asked me to check in on you.”

… Fuck.

Obi-Wan drags a hand over his face, fighting against the way his brain wants to crawl out of his skull, the skin of his back still prickling under the mountain of bacta patches he has strapped to him under his robes.

“He mentioned you flat out ignoring his questions earlier,” the younger man continues, and Obi-Wan closes his eyes.

“Anakin,” he breathes, more of a plea than anything else.

“And he said you were zoning out during the debrief,” Anakin adds, his gaze unwavering.

“Look, I–”

“He’s worried about you. And so is half of the Order, for that matter–”

“I don’t need–”

“For kriff’s sake, just let us help you!” 

Another silence falls between them at the outburst, and Obi-Wan slowly opens his eyes to look up at Anakin. 

Despite it all, a rueful smile makes its way onto his face.

“And just when did you become the reasonable one of the two of us?” he asks.

Anakin rolls his eyes, expression begrudgingly fond as he helps Obi-Wan slowly stand.

“Hopefully never, old man. C’mon, let’s get you to bed. Then I can report back to your Commander that you’re being taken care of.”

Obi-Wan sighs as Anakin helps him over to his bed, falling back on it heavily.

“... I hope I didn’t cause him too much stress,” he finds himself saying. He’s not quite sure why.

Anakin eases him onto his side to get him in a safe position, slipping back to the entryway to turn off the last of the lights.

“... He’ll be fine, I’m sure. Goodnight, Master.” 

Obi-Wan lets his eyelids fall shut, sinking into the mattress beneath him.

“Thank you, Anakin. Tell Cody I’m sorry.”

The other Jedi lingers in the doorway for a long moment, before dipping his head in response, leaving him alone for some much needed rest.

______________________________

It’s been nearly an hour of idle conversation from the group at the table, and Obi-Wan is returning from his second trip to the buffet table to keep up appearances that they’re out on a date night. Cody glances to the plate put in front of him with a raised brow.

“... I’d have preferred the vegetarian option,” he comments dryly.

Obi-Wan looks unimpressed.

“Has anyone ever told you you could have a wonderful career in comedy, my dear?”

Cody smiles. “Shockingly, it hasn’t come up before.”

“Well, you should consider it.”

“Mhm.”

They lapse into silence as Obi-Wan returns to his seat, Cody absentmindedly toying with the wedding ring they’d been provided with for their cover. He almost starts when he hears a voice in his earpiece refer to a ‘deal’, and he snaps to attention, giving the Jedi a surreptitious nod.

The two lean in further across the table as Cody begins to furtively feed back the information he’s hearing. 

“A weapons shipment,” he whispers. 

Obi-Wan nods. “We suspected as much.”

“Pyke involvement.”

“How directly?”

Cody shakes his head. “Unclear, it was a passing comment. Wait–” he holds up a hand, staring down at his plate as he takes in the rapid discussion happening in his ear. Did he just hear that right…?

When he glances up, he sees the concern he feels mirrored in the Jedi’s gaze.

“What is it?” He asks quietly, eyes searching Cody’s. He reaches out to squeeze his hand, and Cody plasters back on a tight smile, remembering that anyone could look over.

“Aruetii. In the GAR command,” he says through gritted teeth, holding the smile as evenly as he can. Obi-Wan blinks slowly, carefully keeping his expression neutral.

“... A mole. I see. We will need a name,” he murmurs calmly, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “... Rather urgently, at that.” 

Cody nods, returning his attention to the earpiece. A Separatist informant amongst their higher ups… it’s not exactly like the Republic is hiring - someone must have been bought off. The only question is who.

After a few minutes, Cody lets out a frustrated grunt. “They’ve moved on,” he mutters quietly, giving a tiny shake of his head. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker over his Commander’s shoulder to the group behind him, before returning to meet his gaze.

“Of course they have.”

Cody taps the fingers of his free hand against the table, his mind working overtime. “Near the start of the conversation, Barrek mentioned a document in his room. He referred to a– a packet of information, a datastick. It might tell us who we’re looking for.” He shifts a little in his seat, lowering his voice. “... And if it does, our best shot to access it would be during a time we know he’ll be away.” 

Obi-Wan hums quietly, picking up on his meaning. “It would be a little risky to take something that would be so missed, no? Or if we were to rush there now, we might find ourselves out of time. Reading through for one name that might not be there at all would likely be looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“We might not have time to look over it ourselves, but we could upload a copy back home,” he counters. Obi-Wan’s brows pinch together slightly, and he tilts his head a little.

“Where it could be read by the spy?”

Cody presses his mouth into a thin line. True, that wouldn’t exactly be ideal, especially if said spy was closer to them than they realised. He glances back down to their entwined hands for a moment, gears turning in his mind. “... I could accidentally upload a copy to one of ours first,” he suggests. “Slip of the finger.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says, a small smirk spreading across his features. “I suppose such a mishap might be… understandable.” He looks over Cody’s shoulder again with a subtle nod as he moves to stand. “But for the moment, it looks like we have a more urgent matter to attend to.”

Turning, Cody sees Barrek in the process of scooping up the empty plate the listening device had been placed on, making his way over to the buffet table. He curses under his breath. If they discover that there was a bug planted on them, their entire cover would be blown before it even truly began. Obi-Wan places a soothing hand on his shoulder, giving him a calm smile.

“Not to worry. Come with me, dear.” 

With that, he sets off at a strong pace directly towards the buffet table, smoothly striding forwards. By the time Cody has gotten up from his chair, there’s an irritated yelp as Obi-Wan apparently barrels directly into the other man.

A heads up would have been nice. 

Cody rushes over as Obi-Wan pretends to steady himself on Barrek’s arm, the Jedi successfully sneaking his hand up to rip the bug from the underside of the plate and slip it into his sleeve while the black market dealer is distracted with berating him. A group of nearby guests share glances, steering clear of the argument.

“You absolute kriffing moron–” he spits, and Cody pulls Obi-Wan back a step with a firm grip on his arm. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, he’s–” Cody tenses slightly as Barrek whips his head around to face him, giving him the best apologetic smile he can manage, before shooting a glare at Obi-Wan. “He’s had a lot to drink. I tried to tell him…” 

At that, the Jedi slumps slightly, adopting a glassy look in his eyes as he easily plays into the cover.

“Yeah,” Barrek sneers, looking disdainfully at Obi-Wan as he brushes himself off. “I can tell.”

“I’m sorry again,” Cody winces. “l’ll get him back to our room so he can damn well sober up,” he adds in a hiss, putting on his best ‘long suffering husband’ look. Barrek scowls, checking Obi-Wan with his shoulder as he moves past.

“You go do that,” he mutters irritably.

As soon as the Rodian slips out of sight, the two get moving. Obi-Wan puts a gentle hand on Cody’s lower back as he surreptitiously steers them towards the exit, keeping his eyes ahead. 

Cody forces some of the tension out of his body, doing everything in his power to hold onto a relaxed, steady stride, even as he feels adrenaline buzz through him. 

That was far too close. If he had discovered the listening device…

His thoughts are interrupted as Obi-Wan glances over at him with a sparkle in his eye.

“Great work. I truly felt scolded there for a moment.”

Cody rolls his eyes, though he can’t help but return the fond smile. “Thanks. You’ve given me plenty of practice over the years.”

They approach the large double doors leading back out to the rest of the resort, and a worker standing by gives them a small bow of his head. “Ah, heading out, sirs?” he asks, opening the door further to allow them to move past.

The Jedi nods, and coolly lifts a hand to wave in front of him, keeping the movement as small as possible. Cody subtly positions himself between Obi-Wan and the crowd of people behind them, just in case.

“You haven’t noticed us leaving. You will forget you saw us exiting the room,” he states, and the worker’s eyes obediently slide into a glassy haze, his mouth falling a little slack.

“I haven’t noticed you leaving. I will forget that I’ve seen you exiting the room,” he repeats monotonously. Cody spares a furtive glance to the rest of the partygoers, but it seems no one is close enough to overhear. 

Obi-Wan smiles placidly, patting the worker on the shoulder as they pass. “Good man.”

The pair slip out into the corridor and break into a faster stride as soon as they confirm they’re alone. Obi-Wan swiftly takes out his comm-link, tapping into a secure frequency.

“I have a key to get into their systems, though hacking has never particularly been my forté,” he mutters, eyes scanning the tiny projected display as they step into the elevator. He passes a hand over his beard, clearly trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. “Anakin has always been considerably more proficient at it, but given that he’s not here…”

Cody presses the button for the top floor, just so the doors close and they can buy some more time alone.

“Respectfully, sir, I’m grateful Skywalker wasn’t assigned with us. I have a feeling he wouldn’t be the most…” he tries to find polite words to describe the whirlwind of impulse that is the General’s former Padawan, “... stable presence on an undercover mission.”

Obi-Wan huffs, glancing up from his work.

“He’s not so bad at it, actually. Still, we have the tendency to be a little… antagonistic towards one another on excursions such as these.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Mm. I’d tell you we’re not that bad, but I think you’d be aware that that would be a lie.” He pauses, letting out a pleased hum. “Ah, there we are. I believe our man’s room is number 842.”

Cody nods. “Good timing, then, we’re coming up on it now,” he murmurs, pushing in the button for the eighth floor. The door slides open with a soft ‘ding’, revealing a long hallway, empty apart from a maid pushing a cleaning cart around a distant corner. 

They find the room they’re looking for in short order, a little ways down a side corridor to their left. Cody leans against the wall, keeping watch for anyone coming by as Obi-Wan closes his eyes, focusing on the mechanisms of the unfamiliar lock through the Force and beginning to carefully prise it open.

“How long do you think we’ll have before Barrek comes back?” he says quietly, glancing back at Obi-Wan as he focuses.

The Jedi considers for a moment. “Barring an unforeseen incident at the party, I’d say an hour at the very least. They were very involved in their discussion, and seemed intent on getting a little drunk before leaving.”

“I got a similar impression.” He falls quiet again, allowing Obi-Wan to return his full attention to the door. After a few minutes, he hears a quiet click, and Obi-Wan opens his eyes, giving him a firm nod.

“There we are. Go ahead, Cody.”

Cody pauses, wrinkling his nose. “And what if it’s trapped?”

Obi-Wan shrugs. “Then I shall briefly mourn you and then finish the mission on my own.”

Cody snorts, pushing into the room. “It’s so nice to know you care.” 

It’s neat inside - evidently having just been cleaned - though a number of personal items are scattered about on various surfaces. A closed, thin suitcase sits upon the bed, and Cody makes a beeline for it, looking at the numbered padlock with a frown. He begins to attempt to brute force combinations as Obi-Wan glances through some papers on the bedside table, before moving on to a datapad on the desk.

Cody spares a glance over to the Jedi as he hears Obi-Wan make a soft tutting sound.

“Rule number one of dealing in illicit activities, Commander,” he starts, expression more than a little smug, “is not to leave your digital devices unlocked for anyone to see. It seems we’re dealing with an amateur.”

He takes a moment to scroll through the information on display, eyes narrowing a little. 

“Try 1114,” he instructs. Cody adjusts the number displays on the lock, and gives it a tug.

“Not it,” he says, shaking his head.

“2793?” the Jedi tries, scanning the document for more combinations that could prove fruitful.

“Not that either.”

“0914.”

… There. Cody feels the lock give way. With a satisfied hum, he slides it off and lifts open the suitcase. Obi-Wan makes his way over, and they both sigh as they take in the contents.

“Well…” he tries, but falls short of any silver lining he seemed to be reaching for.

“... We really should have expected this.”

Inside sits a frankly ridiculous amount of datasticks. They had been hoping for just one so they could upload the information and leave, but it looks like there could be up to thirty here, at an estimate. They’ll be here for much, much longer than they initially thought.

Sharing a glance with Obi-Wan, Cody deflates a little. The Jedi heads to the doorway to take lookout duty as Cody takes out his comm-link, starting the first of the file transfers.

Why can’t anything ever be simple?

______________________________

It takes them close to forty minutes, but eventually the files have been uploaded to Captain Gregor along with a brief explanation of the situation, and Cody clicks the suitcase shut, re-scrambling the code for the lock.

The pair step out into the hallway and close the door behind them, ready to head back to their room.

Cody is just musing on how smoothly that all went, when from by his side Obi-Wan suddenly pauses, eyes widening ever so subtly. It’s a familiar mannerism - one that means he’s sensed something particularly concerning in the Force. In combination with the way Obi-Wan’s jaw ticks near imperceptibly, Cody can tell the man is definitely on edge. 

He doesn’t bother wasting the time to ask what’s happening, his fingers already itching for the concealed blaster at his side.

“Someone’s coming,” Cody states, and Obi-Wan nods, expression clouded.

“Barrek. Must have forgotten something in his room.”

“Great,” Cody responds tersely, his expression stony. His eyes sweep over the corridor. There’s not exactly any place to hide here, unless one of the other rooms happens to be miraculously unlocked and free of any occupants. He curses under his breath. “Fantastic, even. I’ve got my silencer–”

Obi-Wan shoots him the subtlest glare he can manage. “We will not get into a shootout here.”

“But if he sees us, he’ll recognise us. It’s not hard to put together that we were just snooping around–”

He suddenly finds himself pressed up against the wall. 

Alarmed, Cody’s hands instinctively come up to seize the arms that are boxing him in. He’s about to break out of the hold before his brain catches up to who, exactly, is the one accosting him. He may have the reflexes of a battle-hardened warrior, but Obi-Wan is a Jedi, keeping him still with surprising ease.

For a moment, he just stares at Obi-Wan, who is startlingly close, confusion coursing through him. “What are you–”

“Easy, there,” Obi-Wan says, voice low and quiet. His arms continue to cage the Commander against the wall, and Cody feels his mind blank completely.

The Jedi has the decency to not mention the death grip his Commander has on his forearm, instead just giving him an apologetic look.

“This isn’t ideal,” he says, briefly glancing down the hallway to the lift before returning his gaze to the other man. The breath from his words ghosts over Cody’s face, and the Commander does his best to suppress the shiver that works his way down his spine. “But if we look… occupied, it’ll be our best shot at being ignored.” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flick over Cody’s face, his eyelids dipping briefly as his gaze drops to his lips, then back up. There’s something deeper behind the look of concern in his eyes, but Cody can’t read his General as easily as he normally could, not while he’s reeling like this. 

The Jedi looks guarded, swallowing tightly. His head lowers slightly, drawing closer. “We don’t have long. May I…?”

Cody’s mind spins violently. May he what? What is he…?

 Oh.

… Oh.

They remain close, the two practically sharing breath as Obi-Wan irresponsibly waits for his reply. 

Cody is more than aware that it would be smarter to just act - their cover hinges on this, regardless, and they need to move fast, Cody, give him a damn answer. Despite this, a more illogical part of him is grateful for the opportunity to stall so he can try to collect himself.

It doesn’t work. 

Cody doesn’t quite know what possesses him as he blurts his next words out, but they’ve left his mouth before he can stop himself.

“I don’t know how.”

Obi-Wan stops in his tracks, pulling back slightly. He looks a little bewildered as the words sink in. “You…” he blinks. “Oh.”

It’s not exactly the truth, but it’s not far from it either. It would be more accurate to say that Cody has never kissed anyone while sober. He’s had his fair share of intimacy while drunk - shameful, secret nights going home with men who, through squinted eyes and the haze of alcohol, look a little like the thought of home. Beards neatly groomed but a little too long, eyes still blue but far too deep, red hair that catches the light but lacks that distinct golden glow.

Come morning and the inevitable hangover, he’d convince himself that their similarities to a certain Jedi were just happenstance, though if there’s a limit on the amount of times he can use the excuse of coincidence on this matter, he’s sure he’s exceeded it many times over.

Kissing someone while drunk is easy. It doesn’t require any knowledge, nor skill to do right -  just tongues and teeth and enough desperation to want to feel something that isn’t the press of a blaster in your hand. 

Sober, on the other hand? Cody doesn’t like the idea of walking into anything without a battle plan while sober. 

It’s just not something he’s ever had the time to do, nor the inclination, really. He’s a Marshal Commander in a war, he’s busy, he doesn’t need that type of entanglement with a stranger, for Stars’ sake–!

Still, he has no idea why he felt the need to actually open his mouth and say it. Cody finds himself facing down the sudden desire to put his head through the nearest wall.

A silence falls between the two of them that they don’t really have time for.

“... Cody. Please, trust me.”

Even in this situation, even with nervousness whirling through the Commander like a hurricane, asking him to trust his Jedi is like asking him to blink, to breathe.

Cody barely has time to nod before the lift doors slide open, and Obi-Wan closes the distance between them.

All of the air leaves Cody’s lungs in an instant as his eyes flutter closed, a hand slipping up from the Jedi’s forearm to instinctively hold the back of his head, drawing him closer. The soft sound that he’s rewarded with for his efforts makes his chest burn, his heart threatening to escape his chest with how fast it’s beating against his ribs.

He feels like he’s unmoored, untethered and floating in a blissful haze where all that he seems to be able to get his brain to register is that his General is damn good at this, leading them gently through this dance.

It’s probably – definitely - unprofessional and wildly inappropriate, but he can’t help but sink into him, an almost embarrassing sigh escaping him involuntarily as Obi-Wan’s jaw shifts, tilting downwards to open up more for him.

For him, for him, for him…

Fast-paced, hurried footsteps march past the two of them and eventually disappear down the corridor, until they’re met with silence once more. 

Obi-Wan slowly, slowly pulls back. For a moment, they lock eyes, breath heavy and a little uneven, before reality falls into place and they break apart completely. 

Obi-Wan clears his throat, gesturing to the lift.

“We should…”

“Right.”

Cody’s mind is a mess. He’d worked so hard to put a lid on these feelings, to push them back into a dark recess of his consciousness where it could gather dust and go ignored in his day-to-day… After what’s just happened, he’s not so certain he’ll be able to get it back there again.

The two make it to their room without further incident, and Obi-Wan, a little awkwardly, excuses himself to the refresher to get changed back into his robes. They had succeeded at navigating the changing mission parameters, yes, but neither of them seem able to talk about their next steps just yet.

It’s only after the door closes behind Obi-Wan that Cody is struck like a lightning bolt with the realisation that in all the chaos, he hadn’t had the wherewithal to shield his emotions during the kiss. 

At all. 

… Shit.

(next chapter)

[tennessoui]

hanahaki au chapter 6 snippet

“Anakin, if you insist on coming along, you will have to get used to the idea of getting your hands dirty,” Obi-Wan tells him from the ground, and Anakin looks down at him reluctantly. Despite the fact that his master’s health has never been lower, he still insists upon his post war routine, one that involves restoring a series of Upper Level community gardens that had—apparently—been damaged by debris from the Invisible Hand as it crashed into the city.

His master blinks up at him expectantly, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The day cycle has already increased so exponentially in the hours that they have been here that he has stripped down to his under tunic. Sweat beads at the exposed hairs of his chest, which is moving with more difficulty than it should given the fairly light labor Obi-Wan has thrown himself into.

“You’d think you’d be tired of digging trenches,” Anakin says with an unfairly dry throat as he bends down at the knees to sit at his master’s side. 

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan tells him with a small, pleased smile. That’s another thing that Anakin has noticed in the last several weeks. Obi-Wan is freer with his emotions around Anakin than he has ever been before. Maybe he doesn’t think there’s a need to pretend to be the perfect Jedi master anymore, now that the war is over and Anakin is a Master of his own right. Maybe he’s just realized that there’s a day fast approaching when he will no longer be able to smile at Anakin again. Maybe he’s just exhausted, precious energy diverted to other tasks and none leftover to bite back and control his emotions.

“If anything,” he adds when Anakin accepts the trowel with his gloved hand, “I’d be tired of flowers.”

Anakin scowls immediately, heart flinching away and curling in on itself. “Don’t joke about that, Obi-Wan.”

His master at least has the decency to look a little shame-faced, but his regret does little to soothe the sharp knife of Anakin’s grief.

[morganas-pendragons]

There Is Quiet | Commander Fox and Dove

tag: @generic-geek-girl @erishimoon

synopsis: you, the clone's s/o, are privy to watching order 66. three of you will be able to reunite with the man you love in the aftermath.

authors note: I tried really hard to keep this light but uh.. o66 isn't light so sorry in advance LOL

***

It's dark and raining the night that the Jedi die.

You're on your way back from picking up dinner when you hear it. The tell-tale shattering of glass from the windows dozen of stories above you is enough to make you drop the dinner from shock, sprinting into the doorway closest to your left to begin maneuvering through the tunnels that would lead you back to Palpatine's office.

Your dinner remains untouched on the streets of Coruscant.

One of the perks of being the Chancellor's personal assistant was having free reign of the building plans. That just happened to mean you knew every in and out. Every hidden closet. Every secret tunnel.

Your favorite secret tunnel was the one that you and Fox often occupied. On the days where you needed a break from the world, when Fox needed a safe place to cry, when Hound and Thire needed privacy to talk to each other when something difficult happened on patrol. It wasn't Palpatine's tunnel.

It was your tunnel. You and the Guard, your little family. Your little family who you left with promises of dinner to celebrate your new promotion.

"Look, I'll compromise. I will go get dinner to celebrate my victory and you will finish all of your patrol reports by the time I get back," You drawled, grinning as Fox shuddered when you dragged your finger across the curve of his jaw. "And maybe I'll throw something a little extra in there. Just for fun."

"Little Dove.. you make a very tempting offer." Fox murmured. "Ill be waiting with a bottle of brandy and some candles whenever you get back."

Telling him that you loved him had come very naturally. He was hesitant to reciprocate at first, as all clones are, but the idea of loving someone like you had been something he wanted to pursue. If Fox was going to run, he'd run toward you forever.

"I love you."

"I love you too. I'll see you soon."

That's all you'd left him with. An, "I love you", a wink and a kiss.

That was the last time you saw Commander Fox for quite a while.

It's dark and raining when you finally come to the main gate just inside of Palpatine's office. He's not even aware it's there. You, however, are painfully aware of how cold it is in that room and the bodies who occupy it are familiar to you.

Anakin Skywalker. He's supposed to be a hero, and here he is standing frozen as Mace Windu attempted to kill the Chancellor.

Or that's what it looks like, at least.

Your fingers drifted down to the blaster on your hip. Fox had made you learn how to use one - as well as learn hand to hand, because he was not having his Dove be hurt - not long after you had started dating.

Anakin's voice is raw, thick with guilt and shame as he collapses to his knees.

"What have I done?"

And it's not him that draws your attention, but two realizations as Palpatine knights Anakin his Apprentice: Fox is not here, and neither is the rest of the Guard.

You don't know where they are. Where he is.

And that's when you really begin regretting that the very last thing you said to him is, "See you later."

***

The first thing you do upon fleeing Palpatine's office through the tunnel network is call the only Jedi you really know. Ember's comm is nothing but static, which already unsettles you more, so you attempt to reach out to Phantom in hopes she'll respond from Utapau.

She does. The terror in her voice is evident.

"The clones all turned. I don't know why, but Cody is trying to kill me and I have to go-"

"Phantom?" Nothing. "Phantom, respond!"

There's nothing but static that makes your stomach turn as you desperately shake your comm in hopes of a reply. Ember was with Ahsoka, and Phantom had gone with Obi-Wan, which meant two of your best friends were in the middle of the crisis that seemed to currently be plaguing most of the galaxy.

If Cody went after Phantom, then will Fox-

"Oh, Maker," You leaned against the wall to wrap your arm around your stomach. Just thinking about all the what if's in regards to Fox and the rest of the Guard's well beings made you want to wretch all over the floor. "Just let him be safe. I don't ask for much, but please let him be safe."

Your first clue that something is wrong is the contingent of Guard members stationed outside of the Senate room. You know better then to attempt to use the front door, but the sight of Hound and Stone's helmets on the bodies that guard the Senate is enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Those are your boys. Your boys. Not Palpatine or whoever he is now, not the Republic, yours.

They don't sound like the same ones who'd asked for six milkshakes and enough fries to feed a bantha less than two hours before. They're not the same men who used to walk you home in torrential downpours, not the same men who had goaded Fox for so long that he eventually caved and asked you to marry him.

You'd started wearing your rings around your neck after that. It was short, prompt. He promised to give you what you really wanted after the war.

"It's what you deserve." He'd said.

All you can think as you sneak past Stone and Hound is that what you deserve is far less than what these men deserve. You'd give everything you had if it meant these men, your al'iit, finally had peace.

Because peace is the bare minimum of what they deserve.

Fox isn't in the Senate Room either, but the rest of the Guard are. You only barely have time to glimpse the form of an older Jedi Master you recognize but don't know the name of as he tumbles tumbles tumbles and disappears beneath the floors below.

Thire's voice is the one that calls out for orders. They're so... monotone. They sound like droids.

You briefly hear something between Mas Amedda and Palpatine about Order 66. Whatever that is. It must be what has all the clones committing mass genocide against the Jedi.

Your heart aches for Phantom and Ember, but you press on anyway. You have to find Fox.

You have to find Fox.

***

This is how it feels to be CC-1010, Commander of the Coruscant Guard. You are trapped inside the dark confines of your mind with no way out because an order was meant to be carried out: KillthejediKillthejediKilltheJedi

Your better judgement screams at you that this is wrong as you are left chasing a rogue Jedi who couldn't get off world fast enough through the lower levels of Coruscant.

Something reminds you of Dove as your head is thrown back, your jaw bludgeoned by the brass knuckles that come in contact with the skin there. It hurts. It bleeds.

You press on.

The Jedi dies and the body is left to be added to the others that burn on the Temple steps. Skywalker carried out the Emperor's orders. There is nothing left of what used to be of the Jedi Order. It's fallen and forgotten, just like them.

Just like the clones will be too. You know that. You will be forgotten, just another name on the battlefield memorial just outside of the Temple. There's so many there now. Too many names to put faces to.

Something in you believes that, if you find Dove, there stands a chance that you will be remembered. You'd have an impact. A lasting effect on somebody out there in the galaxy.

Dove. Your little Dove.

You need to get back to Dove.

***

One Year Later

The reunion never comes. Two wedding rings are kept close to the other's hearts, a futile hope that one day they will return together for the wedding the other so desperately wants.

Word gets to you through the network. Your network of those who had been with clones both before and after the order, those who were still alive and actively helping the Rebellion.

Including you. You were one of the few who knew him the best, and thus an invaluable asset to the Rebellion. It was just fortunate that Bail Organa and Ahsoka Tano had found you before Palpatine found you were alive and used you for his own personal gain.

Ahsoka was the one who told you what really happened. Order 66 was a kill switch implanted in the inhibitor chips of the clones before they'd been decanted to commit mass genocide against the Jedi. They couldn't help it. They couldn't help it.

All this time you'd spent trying to come to terms with the inevitability of what Fox had done, and he couldn't even help it.

Ahsoka had shed tears with you in the aftermath of her confession. She understood. While she'd been too young to be with anyone, she had a close relationship with Rex. Rex had almost killed her too. Had she not been able to remove his chip, he would've.

That had been the same day she'd told you about Ember. Ember had died with Jesse. He'd held her as they went.

That realization had only made you cry harder.

"At the very least, Dove," Ahsoka murmured gently as she held your face in her hand. "You can honor him and your love for him by doing the very thing he would've done. Fighting for what's right."

You nodded and thanked her with the barest smile you could muster. You just didn't have the strength anymore. Most of it had been taken when you lost Fox.

Gripping the metal of your engagement band with trembling fingers, you nodded and allowed your eyes to close before the tears could fall again.

At this point, you're holding out hope he'll come back to you. It's all that's kept you going at this point.

It's going to have to be enough.

The reunion never comes, and neither does the wedding. It never comes because Commander Fox is dead at the hands of Darth Vader.

And it absolutely destroyed you.

This is how it feels to be Dove, former personal assistant to The Emperor.

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

all things cyclical

Summary:

Obi-Wan Kenobi spends his life dealing with visions that he never remembers. Or he thinks he did. During the first months of the war, Obi-Wan is instead diagnosed with narcolepsy and his entire life changes.

Word Count: 2,709

Chapter: 1/10

Obi-Wan shook the bottle again, starting at the single remaining pill sealed behind the orange plastoid. It had been days since he had taken one, saving the last remaining capsule for when he really needed it.

Blast– he had meant to get a new prescription the last time he was on Coruscant. Sure, Vokara Che would happily send them out to the Negotiator, but Obi-Wan hated to put her out like that, not when he could easily retrieve them himself. Nevermind the fact that to ship the pills to the Negotiator would take weeks, at best. 

Problem was, Coruscant was out of his way, and would be for some time. So what was the point anyway? 

There was only one pill left. 

Which meant…

Obi-Wan sighed, letting the list of symptoms and obstacles and embarrassments come back to him. The time before the pills had been unpleasant, if only for the times he had to deliver a small white slip of papers to his teachers, only to see their displeasure at having to accommodate him. 

“How can he be a Jedi if he can’t function in the classroom?” How many times had he heard those words whispered between his elders, the ones who were supposedly responsible to guide him in the ways of the Force and the ways to be a peacekeeper?

Somehow, despite him growing closer to middle age with each passing day, it still made his stomach twist with shame.

He glanced at himself in the mirror, noticing the way his skin was pale and cheeks had hollowed slightly since the war had begun. While they were only a few months in, he had already lost track of himself in the midst of it. Eating, sleeping, meditating. All of it had gone to the wayside, an afterthought to the ever-present need to be a General, and a leader.

His hand shook slightly, against his will, as he set the pill container back in the small cupboard. 

What was a few weeks without them? Surely the medicine would continue to have an effect for a few days after he stopped taking them. That’s what Obi-Wan hoped as he slipped on his tunic, and brushed his growing hair back neatly. He had no choice but to be fine, at least until there was a momentary break in the War long enough for him to return to Coruscant. 

With that, he left his quarters, lightsaber at his hip, and a prayer to the Force left in his wake.

  “What we’re looking at here is the potential for an incursion–” The words felt like bricks stacking in his mind, filling his thoughts but meaning nothing. Not when he felt so…

Tired. Obi-Wan was tired– exhausted to the point of confusion, apparently. Every word spoken by Mace was a burden to interpret, fading into useless syllables inside the cotton-lined outline of his head. 

Focus, he commanded himself. But it was a lost cause when he felt like this, like he could sleep for a hundred hours standing up.

“What are your thoughts, Kenobi?” There was Mace’s voice again, as unwelcome as it was to Obi-Wan’s current state, there was no avoiding it. This time it wanted him. 

Come on, Obi-Wan, pull yourself together. You can sleep in just a few minutes.

Obi-Wan looked up to first find Mace’s imploring face, as serious as always. His gaze then drifted to Cody, who stood diligently off to the side of Mace, seemingly composed in his posture. Upon a closer look, he appeared to be concerned. He was always so hardened and solemn, but never like this. Obi-Wan had never seen his eyes so soft, and his lips downturned into something like a sincere frown.

“Oh–” Obi-Wan’s voice started before his mind could prepare. How was he to finish the sentence now? 

Think. Think. Think.

But thinking wouldn’t exactly fix the situation, no amount of it would replace his pills he’d now not taken since three days ago. The pills that kept him sane, alert, and most importantly, upright.

“Uh– Sir? Everything alright?” Obi-Wan went to look at Cody, but everything was dark– he had just noticed; his eyes must have closed. Not good. Bad, actually.

Then he was falling, air cascading around him as he drifted downward, movement unbearably slow before his knees crashed into the metal floor hard. Pain exploded through his knees, but there was nothing he could do to resolve it. No one part of his body cooperated with his orders to stay standing. 

For a moment, things were dark, and the noise around him cut out for half a second.

Then just as suddenly, his eyes were open, and the pain in his knees had faded into something like a dull throb. The conglomerate of voices around him broke apart into separate distinguishable tones. 

“For fuck’s sake– someone get Skull on the line. Now!”

Obi-Wan wanted to tell them no, tell them to leave the medic alone, but the words didn’t come to him in time.

While Obi-Wan would have expected Mace to be the one crouched down in front of him– he was aware of Obi-Wan’s condition after all– but instead, Cody’s face hovered in his field of vision, expression on his face no different than it had been minutes earlier.

“Sir! Is everything alright? What happened?” He was frantic, words breathless and the wrinkles across his forehead so distinct. 

“I’m al– I am alright.” He said, words almost catching in his throat. Obi-Wan worked up a smile that probably fell flat, but it was the best he could muster. 

Without hesitation, he crawled to his feet, already annoyed with the ache in his knees. They were surely bruised, but significantly less painful than the prior injury he had sustained on Zigoola; no pain could live so freely in his mind like that pain.

“Banthashit– you just– you passed out.” Cody’s hand was on his arm, pulling him toward a chair that hadn’t been there before, forcing him to sit below the intrigued glances of the surrounding clones and Mace’s hardened gaze. Disappointment and intrigue mixed together, probably, but something Obi-Wan could only let bother him once he was finally back in his quarters when he had time to loathe himself. 

“It wasn’t– I didn’t pass out, Cody.” Obi-Wan answered, trying to catch his gaze. He felt it was true– it wasn’t more than a second he had been unconscious, and that was barely enough to qualify as fainting.

Cody looked at him, unmoving. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but hedged his bets on his Commander being offended. Perhaps even angry. Cody crouched to his level.

“Then what in the hells just happened?” Cody asked in a harsh whisper. Sobriety swept across his face, highlighting the concerned indents that formed around his mouth. 

Obi-Wan hated it, the distress. Of all people, he did not want Cody to worry. 

“It’s– not quite so easy to explain. I don’t fully know myself.” He let the words hang in the air, not bothering to launch into an explanation detailing his numerous mostly unexplained sleep issues. His tumultuous relationship with sleep had been blamed on the Force for as many years as he could recall. Vokara Che had once thought them to be some type of undocumented vision, a type not even Obi-Wan could remember when he had regained his consciousness, but she had since changed her mind, still unsure of what to call Obi-Wan’s issues.

Frankly, Obi-Wan thought it was better that way– he had medication that worked more than half of the time, and the war wasn’t conducive to normal sleep patterns as it was. Not to mention, if he had no formal diagnosis, he could prevent the waves of pity his contemporaries would throw at him. 

Force, he hated pity. It was condescending. 

“You don’t know?” Cody asked, clearly unconvinced that Obi-Wan was telling the truth. 

“Not– not precisely.” Obi-Wan answered, but didn’t want to continue, not now. He was already tried again, his limbs beginning to feel too heavy, like magnets pulling him toward the ground. 

“Care to explain, Sir?” Cody’s question, however, became the least of Obi-Wan’s concern when a figure loomed over the Commander’s shoulder. 

Skull. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not, but at the very least, Skull would keep Cody from berating him with more questions. Skull would ask them, but he never pried more than he needed to. 

“Cody, he can answer that later. Everyone– get out, give the man some space to breathe.” The surrounding clones and thankfully, Windu, trailed out the room. While Cody hesitated, watching him for a moment, Skull nodded at him which sent him out of the room behind the others.

  Stim’s comlink never stopped blinking at him, he would swear. Night and day alike, unless he turned it off, it kept going, incessantly informing him of all the pain and suffering that required his help. 

Really, it was his fault; he had chosen to be a medic, and no one had manipulated him into it, but sometimes it weighed on him. 

He sighed, staring at the blurry text comm before forcing his eyes to focus on the message.

General passed out. Left wing– briefing room.

Skull blinked at his screen. What the fuck?

He had only known the General for a few months, but it had been long enough to realize that the Jedi, or more likely this one specific Jedi, were absolute shit at taking care of themselves. General Kenobi had a particular tendency to ignore self-care, opting to burn himself out completely before he considered the positive effects of sleep or eating a nutritious meal. 

Skull plucked a few small containers of fruit juice and a ration bar from his stash at he desk and sighed loudly enough for Oxy to hear him where the other medic stood searching through his own desk for something. 

“What now?” Oxy asked, looking up.

“The General– again.” Because it had become something of a regularity for Skull to be called to the scene when Kenobi was involved.

“Are you surprised, Skully? What did he do to himself this time?” Oxy shook his head– like Skull, he had his own experience dealing with the General’s preventable health scares. Only a week earlier, Oxy had practically been in tears over a head wound that just wouldn’t stop bleeding. Come to find out, the General had been pulling at the stitches after he accidentally took an extra dose of painkillers. 

Skull was starting to think Kenobi needed a minder.

“He fainted, Cody didn’t say anything about injuries. I’m thinking low blood sugar.” Skull shrugged and sighed as he started down the maze of hallways.

As he approached the door of the briefing room, he noted the crowd of clones and Jedi alike, all in circle around the General. Kenobi sat in a chair under Cody’s scrutiny, head tipped downward and hands just slightly trembling. 

Almost unnoticed, Skull slipped between his brothers and approached Cody from behind. Getting closer to the General revealed his wide eyes and hunched shoulders. He looked– well, he looked bad. Drained. 

Cody asked the General something, but it came out more like an accusation than anything, and Skull cleared his throat. The General didn’t need a flood of questions and room of prying eyes. 

“Cody, he can answer that later. Everyone– get out, give the man some space to breathe.” Skull ordered. Everyone followed his order, save for Cody who spent an extra few seconds glancing at the General, something like worry hidden in his eyes. Skull knew that look– he had seen it too many times to count.

Once Cody had followed the others out of the room, Skull dropped his bag to the floor, already fishing out the ration bar and juice box he had packed away. “I was informed you passed out?” Skull said, waiting for the General to protest. He always did.

“Not– well, not exactly.” Kenobi was sheepish, cheeks slightly reddened. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, tugging at his sleeves with the tips of his fingers.

“Did you lose consciousness?” Skull asked, poking the top of the juice box with the straw.

“Erm– for only a second, I–” Kenobi’s protest was weaker than usual, masked by something like anxiety. 

“You fainted then, Sir. Any dizziness? Chest pain?” He asked, knowing the answer would be no. It seemed cut-and-dry, it was almost certainly related to a lack of self-care. Too little sleep, not enough to eat, dehydration. 

All three applied to the General at any given time. 

“No.” Kenobi answered simply. His hand trembled as Skull placed the juice box in his fingers. Obi-Wan drank, albeit hesitantly, but Skull was happy to get a few calories in him.

“Have you been eating all three meals? Drinking enough water?” Kenobi grumbled as soon as Skull finished, confirming what the medic already knew.

“No– I suppose not. But I believe… those things are unrelated.”

That made Skull pause from where he had reached for his stethoscope. He turned around, eyes catching with the General’s blue ones. The man in question swallowed and looked away after a brief second. 

“Unrelated?” Skull asked, not masking his irritation. “Is there something I’m missing here, Sir?” 

Absolutely, there was absolutely something he was missing. 

“It’s– it is possible this is related to the Force– a vision.” Kenobi seemed less confident than Skull had imagined, and the idea of the Force being related seemed like a stretch. Sure, Jedi were different from most other natborns, but they were not immune to normal dysfunctions of the body. The Force couldn’t be an excuse for all irregularities. 

“...do you– are you having visions while unconscious?” Skull asked, wondering if his course he had taken on the Jedi had incorrectly identified what visions would look like. They had never been described as brief moments of lost consciousness. 

“Not that I can remember. Vokara Che thinks it’s possible I just… forget them.” The General seemed too casual about this assumption, and frankly, about the whole kriffing situation. 

“Have you passed out before while having one?” Kenobi’s statement had implied there had been many times before. This wasn’t an isolated incident. 

Skull’s heart rate sped up against his will, skyrocketing with every second.

“A number of times– like I said, it could be visions.” Skull hardly wanted to believe it, honestly, didn’t believe it. 

“Sir, if you can’t remember the visions, I’m hesitant to believe that’s what’s happening.” Skull said, hoping the General wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss him. “Here.” He handed Kenobi the ration bar, watching as the man took it, but kept it in his lap rather than eating it. “Eat.” He said, nodding. Kenobi did, after offering an unamused frown to Skull.

“What do you suggest might be the problem then, Skull?” Kenobi said after taking a tiny bite of the ration bar.

“I suggest you come by the medbay for an exam, and possibly some tests.” Skull answered. As much as Kenobi would hate the idea, it was the only way Skull would be able to accurately assess his symptoms.

“Oh– well, I’ll see if I can fit that in.” Skull didn’t believe that for one second. The General had evaded his initial medical assessment up until this point, always excusing himself from the appointments because he was needed elsewhere.

“Sir, it’s not– It’s not an option. I’ll ask Cody to schedule it, if that would be easier.” Skull watched Kenobi’s eyes grow wide and he shook his head. The General stood, cheeks dusted with pink, and pursed his lips.

“That will not be necessary– I will comm you.” Kenobi smiled with his mouth, but it didn’t quite make it to his eyes. 

“Please do.” Skull said, then pressed a gentle hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “If you feel like you’re going to pass out again, please comm me.”

With that, Kenobi brought himself swiftly out the door, leaving Skull with a growing amount of questions. If anything, Skull felt less comfortable than he did before he had come to help the General. 

The unease prickled through his veins as he turned to make his way back to the medbay. 

Now, to research.

[iidigestive-readerii]

The Good Jedi: Part Four

Satine: Two transmissions came in to the Mandalorian embassy. Call the Council and whoever necessary. They’ll want to see this.

There were many things Mace enjoyed about being Master of the Order, but being at the beck and call of Republic politicians was not one of them. Except this politician was technically not even a part of the Republic. Or should be alive for that matter.

But he called a meeting for two hours later, staying in one of the seats and reviewing flimsiwork from the last campaign that had been completed by his system army. It was a tedious task, and he was relieved when the members started to file in. 

Quiet chatter started to fill the room, familiar voices overlapping each other. Mace glanced at the time and rose, beginning to stack his materials. He gave a nod when he saw Obi-Wan and Duchess Satine walk in, about to say something when he froze.

The room quieted, everyone staring at the addition. 

“Evening Mace.”

“...Ahsoka.” Mace bowed his head quickly, feeling red hot shame creep up his neck. He thanked the Force that Anakin hadn’t shown up yet. “Dare I ask?”

Satine sighed, walking to the projector table while she spoke, ignoring the surprised faces. “If we’re going to war - and the odds of that occurring are high,” she sighed while putting the chips into the projector. “I need an aide-de-camp, and it doesn’t make sense to have a Jedi General as one if he has a larger war to fight.”

“And a Jedi padawan is somehow better?” Mace asked with the raise of his brow, aware of the scowls shot his way. “Former padawan.”

“I don’t know about you, but having the Jedi that - “

“‘Snips?!” Anakin stood at the entryway, frozen, the light of the hallway on his back. Padme and Aayla were behind him, both of them staring at young woman. It was not a situation anyone anticipated a week ago, but here they were. Looking between everyone, Anakin frowned and stepped down a few. “What - Obi-Wan - what - “

Rolling her eyes, Aayla pushed her friends away and hopped down the steps. She wasted no time, gathering Ahsoka in her arms. The younger woman melted in a way that she hadn’t yet, tears falling down her cheeks. 

Mace watched the scene, the two woman whispering, the quick glare shot at the Chosen One, the reunion taking place. Though he’d been hesitant once upon a time about allowing Aayla into the Order at the ripe age of six years old, and then being the padawan of Quinlan Vos… but in his opinion, Aayla was everything that Anakin wasn’t. Powerful in all the ways her friend wasn’t, holding all the ideals of the Jedi code close and so good at negotiation without sacrificing her virtues. She was good at all of it while maintaining so many loving relationships - platonic, romantic… everything. 

If he had his way, Aayla would be the next Master of the Order. He desperately hoped so.

Yoda cleared his throat, the attention of the room shifting to him. He forced a smile. “Heartwarming this reunion is, but move forward, we need too. Duchess?”

“...right.” Satine sighed heavily, her finger hovering over the play button. “The Mandalorian embassy received two transmissions this morning. One from my sister Bo-Katan, to the system… and one from Death Watch.”

Bo-Katan shimmered into existence, covered in armor, on a podium, surrounded by her people, somewhere in the mines on one of the moons and planets of Mandalore. Exhausted, fiery…

“Mandalorians! I stand before you not as Death Watch… but as your princess. As my sister’s advocate…and I know you all don’t care for me… but we love our Duchess - you love our Duchess - and they have our prince… and that is unacceptable!” 

“They’re fine if you’re captured but they draw the line at Korkie?” Anakin muttered while the Mandalorians cheered and hollered. 

“We love our children,” Satine whispered. She didn’t resist as Obi-Wan tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her middle. The gesture was so intimate, so…

…oh. 

“He’s your son.” Mace wasn’t surprised as they both nodded, and turned back to the Holo. 

“We are Mandalorians! We do not cower when outsiders mess with us! And Pre has messed with the wrong clan! We have tasted peace - and no more fighting!” There was more cheering, and Bo shouting in victory alongside everyone.

She froze, the video stopping. 

Had he known what would have occurred that morning, Mace would have stayed in bed. He had a headache already, watching the video play in the classroom turned war room and and rubbing at his temples. 

“...not good, this is.” Yoda leaned heavily against cane, shaking his head. 

“It gets worse,” Satine muttered as the first Holo shimmered away and the second appeared. It was Maul and Visla… and Korkie in the background, bound on the steps of the throne. Beaten, bruised, staring levelly into the camera. A small smile on his face like he had a plan up his sleeve.

“Goddesses…” Padme whispered. 

Pre smiled at the camera, looking at his partner briefly. 

Maul stepped back, igniting the Dark Saber and putting it by Korkie’s neck. 

“The Dark Saber? That’s been lost for centuries…” Mace whispered.

“...Duchess. I’m sure this needs no discussion.” Pre smiled. “I have something you want. One hundred million - “

“Surely I’m worth more than that.” Korkie scoffed, barely reacting as Maul turned the saber around and jabbed the hilt into his temple. He went sprawling, fingers loosening and moving as he struggled to regain his balance.

“One hundred million credits Duchess - your bastard for the throne… and your life.”

Maul stepped forward, stabbing the saber through Korkie’s leg and smiling at the hisses of pain. He twisted the blade around before removing it, pointing it again at Korkie. “Tick tock Kenobi… my patience is wearing thin.” 

*

I'm thrilled to have this chapter finally written! it took forever to drag out of my brain, lol. I'll add the Ao3 and Tumblr chapter links some other time - enjoy! Let me know what you think!

[impossibleprincess35]

Asphodel | ch 19

[Excerpt:]

Anakin lowered his head and the anger in him seemed to have dissipated, replaced with a genuine sadness. The young man looked broken, confused, and hollow. His usual bravado and boldness was replaced with insecurity and hesitation.

Obi-Wan took a few steps in his former padawan’s direction as he said quietly, “I’m sorry for the hurt that I caused you, but Anakin, I would implore you to consider the burdens that are upon my shoul-”

There was a scoff and then a remark under Anakin’s breath as he interrupted to muse sarcastically, “Burdens? What kind of burdens could the perfect Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi have?”

A heavy sigh washed over Obi-Wan as he appeared defeated in the moment. He took a deep breath and then blurted out passionately, “Only the ones caused by you and your padawan spreading gossip in the Temple that I have a son in Mandalore! Perhaps those burdens. Have you no shame? While I’m undercover, Satine’s nephew’s privacy is being violated as the Council looks into his parentage because your padawan lacked the discretion to keep her mouth shut!”

Anakin swallowed hard and closed his eyes in a moment of recognition. He had become so consumed with his thoughts about Obi-Wan’s death being a farce that he had purposely avoided handling the mess that was unfolding in the background. The rumors had seemed harmless at first, but his and Ahsoka’s careless jokes about Korkie Kryze’s parentage had spiraled out of their control.

“Do you know what kind of wrath I will face from Satine when she learns that not only am I alive, but that Korkie has been a topic of discussion in Coruscant?” Obi-Wan hollered, the veins in his neck throbbing as he spoke. “You have no idea what you’ve done! And yet, you come here and you accuse me of imaginary betrayals that exist only in your mind!”

“Obi-Wan, I didn’t realize,” Anakin muttered, hoping to downplay the impact of his and Ahsoka’s indiscretion.

--

Chapter 19 is up.

*singing Alice in Chains quietly to herself as she posts*