#speaking of middle aged man yaoi……. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aspentreewrites · 1 month ago

Text

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.)

✷✷✷✷✷

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

✷✷✷✷✷

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)

#codywan #aspentreewrites #my fics #star wars fanfiction #tcw #cody x obi wan #commander cody #commander cody x obi wan #obi wan kenobi x cody #flowers & cannons

32 notes · View notes

garrettwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Warning: discussions of homophobia; extremely negative rant over a popular lgbt book.

Post context: I waited a decade to read a certain retelling book that focuses on the development of an lgbt couple, one which has been discussed over the centuries. I'm doing my best to censor its title and characters, so this post doesn't show up in the tags for people who genuinely love this story. The title, one I now view as overrated, is something along the lines of a song about a certain popular greek hero with long blond hair and a particularly fragile heel. I wanted to read the original, the Iliad, first. I was so excited... and finally, I read the Iliad and other classical texts, I studied ancient history, and I was finally in the mood to start, paired with good knowledge of the characters that would feature in it AND the historical context... Only to find out I shouldn't have waited. 14/15 year old me would have loved this. Current me cannot. I find most reviewers must have either been high while reading, or have taken this book as teenagers, because there is no way an adult over the age of 25 with some degree of reading experience would have not seen the glaring problems with this book.

Disclaimer, if you care - I have no problem with story alterations. I can be critical of them, sure. But even that won't stop me from enjoying something. I think Percy Jackson should have followed a more greek setup, and I don't particularly fancy some of the worldbuilding choices, but those books were and still are among my favourite fantasy stories. Even though they're for children. Even though I've read Tolkien. I'm no elitist, nor do I believe shit can't be changed to make a compelling story. What I do have a problem with is how you present information, and how you distort it.

For instance, if you wanted to write a story about Ariadne and her godly husband set in the year of 1850 for some reason, and make opium play a role? I think that's a fucking weird setting. But it could work, if you stuck true to what characterises them, their relationship, and had a story with a beggining middle and end that tries to show something.

Going back to the retelling that inspired this "rant review". I'll let others more qualified than me to talk about the sexism. What shocked me here was the gay lovestory that reads so homophobic in how cliché it is that it hurts.

This story reads as "when you're so progressive you gotta turn a gay couple made up of two masculine, warrior like, war drowned men into "the hot warrior and his healer who hates fighting" so it fits into (the already sexist/misogynistic) heterosexual couple role".

Because god forbid you have a gay couple where you actually need to deconstruct masculinity without villainizing it. God forbid you actually need to write men into a gay story. God forbid these men are not good, and you need to get into their complexity. God forbid the pov character, who is written as a love struck maiden, has a life outside his strong warrior that helps contextualise his love for him.

Listen. Feminine men are amazing. Gay feminine men are too. I have plenty of original characters that fit within these labels. What I do not do is turn two ancient greek warriors into an early 2000s seme uke yaoi dynamic where one of them is a fragile maiden war tent housewife and the other a very hot but detached strong soldier god man. This is not the story to do that. And even if you play with gender roles and have a man take a more "womanly" role, it's not enough to just genderswap - a character is still badly written regardless of wether they're male or female.

If the housewife character here was a woman, I guarantee everyone who praises this book would be losing their marbles. A woman with no personality outside her lover? Afraid of fighting, of standing up, of speaking up, and this never changes? Who becomes a healer not because she studies it, but because her fragile soul has no other option? Who is passive as all hell in the story until the author remembers she has to die in an impactful manner to trigger her male love interest? That is two dimensional and no way to write a girl, and it's not suddenly okay just because this girl has a dick and is a him.

Yet cause it's gay it's okay to write such an insipid character. Praised even. Which is made even worse, because the original version was a man who yes - indeed - was kind to others yet an absolute beast on the battlefield. Who had opinions and gave counsel. This is not even an original character - I wouldn't criticise an original character as harshly, but this author changed a fighter with incredible skill, who killed a son of a god and was a hero in his own right, into this. A character who yes, was kind and beloved. But touched by war regardless. A character who was loved by those around him, but in this book is ridiculed by these very same people.

Why do you think that is.

And no, trying to make the story more anti war is not an answer. The Iliad is anti war. The Iliad literally comments on how war corrupts what it touches, how it fucked up the lives of everyone involved. This is not a modern take on an old story, because the old story in question already talks about it.

But what can I expect, here. I could call this a work that doesn't know how to write gay men without adhering to (already dated even for straight people) gender roles... but truth is? Author doesn't know how to write women either. The moment you unironically think Helen of Troy is just a vain little hot chick you should not be allowed to write an Iliad retelling, me thinks.

Oh, and let's not get into the fact both main characters are meant to be gay. They're not bisexual. Yet this book - a GAY ROMANCE - is not shy about shoving straight sex scenes onto you. Sex scenes with really no purpose, for they're never brought up again later, and have no story impact.

I am not kidding. Character A gets D pregnant, Character P barely reacts to it, and when D gets upset at P for whatever reason THE TWO OF THEM HAVE SEX TOO. NOTHING AS GAY AS FUCKING THE WOMAN IMPREGNATED BY YOUR BOYFRIEND, UH?! And it's never brought up again! Nobody forces Character P into this yet he willingly goes? Excuse me, if you wanted these characters to have sex with women so casually, why not just make them bisexual and open to banging outside their relationship?

It reads as so disgusting, to have an author clearly lean into a soulmate trope, then just pull some of the most uncomfortable to read sex scenes ever outside that soulmate couple (I love purple prose. Purple prose is probably the only reason I didn't hate this book - the writing was beautiful. But the way the sex with Character D goes... good lord it's written in such a puke inducing way). I'm not against poly in books, what I am against is leaning into monogamous tropes for a gay couple, where you write neither of them as bisexual (which, btw, bi-erasure of the original characters) but then have them bang outside their relationship EVEN when nobody is forcing them to. Never have I read a gay book where straight sex is pushed forward so much. And it's not just even weird for the gay couple, it's also written in a really odd way for the women involved.

"Oh you just don't get the theme! It was out of pity! It was-" turn this into a straight romance and tell me, with a straight face, that this story is well written. Bad character development, bad usage of tropes, terrible pacing, and the use of sex outside the main romance purely for reader self insertion (for it contributes with nothing but shoddy erotica, in a book supposedly about AxP) should not be excused just because a book is gay.

Honestly. "Let people enjoy things" well I propose let me be a hater. I went above and beyond to block the book and character names, let's hope it's enough. But I'm against not criticising things just because they're diverse. It's 2024. There's plenty of authors writing good stories with marginalised people.

And let's talk about LGBT+ worldbuilding, shall we? In the beggining of this book - set in Ancient Greece by the way - it's stated men could take male lovers on the side. Then it's not brought up again, until later a woman tells P many married men take lovers on the side. This girl was originally a sex slave by the way, and here she gets Stockholm Syndrome and falls for P. But then another character tells P he's too old to be into men? So, which is it? It's not even a thing about ancient greek men having that thing where it was accepted for an older man to be sexually involved with a young boy, because here the problem brought up is P being too old, not his lover being too old too.

Oh, and the love interest's (A's) mother. She hates their relationship. We are told she hates their relationship because P is mortal and she doesn't want a mortal to be with her son. Yet later on she arranges a marriage between her son and a MORTAL woman. So is the problem really mortality, or homosexuality?

Why is there modern day homophobia in a story that many praise for historical accuracy?

I honestly hate how people care about representation at the cost of quality. It is mind boggling to me that a woman in this century wrote a book more homophobic and misogynistic than greeks almost 3 thousand years ago did.

#anti Madeline miller #yes this is about th3 s0ng of 4ch1lles #censoring so it doesn't show in the tags #I'm not an asshole and not trying to push such a negative post onto people who like this #or have good memories with it #but lord waiting a decade to read this book only to come out massively disappointed?#it hurst honestly #garrett.text #homophobia in media #I wanted to read her other one about... how should I censor it... 'c1rc3'#but after reading this

46 notes · View notes