nightmares & daydreams

>We will be back on Coruscant 1300 today. Meet us at 79s at 1700 - Fives

You stared at the unexpected message on your datapad and you couldn’t contain the giddy leg kicks you did off the edge of your bed. Fives was coming home!

You were just friends. At least, you tried to convince yourself of that fact over and over but your heart didn’t seem to listen or care. So tonight you were throwing caution to the wind, consequences be damned. You were telling him. At 79s. After you’d had enough drinks to knock out a bull bantha.

>Have an appointment. Will be done around 1730. See you at 79s after!

You glanced at the chrono and made your way to the door tossing your small bag over your shoulder. In an effort to keep your mind occupied while Fives was gone, you’d joined a dance class at a local studio. The workout helped keep the anxiety about his safety and the stress from work at bay. You also loved it being walking distance from your apartment and you usually enjoyed having the opportunity to ruminate in your thoughts before class started. However, today you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched the entire trek to the studio.

***********

“She says she’s busy and is going to be late.” Fives stared at your message on his datapad anxiously.

“So?” Hardcase absently answered as he laid in his bunk.

“What if she’s on a date?” Fives began to pace, mindlessly tapping the datapad against his thigh as he stroked his goatee.

“Which brings us back to…so? I thought you two were just friends.” Hardcase sat up, narrowing his eyes at his brother. He’d had suspicions that there was more there than Fives had wanted to admit.

“We…are. But any guy she’s with needs to meet my standards. I need to know she’s safe. Physically and emotionally.” Fives rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned against the parasteel wall of the barracks.

“Sure, brother. Whatever you have to tell yourself. So you’re going to follow her?” Hardcase cocked his eyebrow with a knowing grin.

“Yep,” Fives tossed the datapad down on his bunk and walked toward the door.

“Good luck. See you tonight at 79s!” Fives threw a hand up in a lazy wave as Hardcase called to him. However Hardcase had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing his brother again until morning.

**********

Fives followed you from your apartment to the dance studio. He sighed in relief when he realized it wasn’t a date and then was overwhelmed with curiosity at your new hobby you’d kept hidden from him. He briefly considered waiting for you at your apartment but he was brimming with a need to see what you were doing. He followed a small group of spectators in, and immediately scanned the room for you. His keen eyes spotted you, front and center of the small group of dancers that were already performing.

He swelled with pride watching the way you owned the room with smooth and graceful steps and the incredibly sexy gyration of your hips (maker your ass looked good in those heels and booty shorts.) His eyes were drawn to your lips that were silently mouthing the words of the (admittedly somewhat suggestive song) you were dancing to. If only he could kiss you right then and there. He couldn’t help but think how glad he was he wasn’t watching you on a date and how desperately he wished you were his.

As the class wrapped up you heard the giddy twitters of your fellow dancers. You turned to see what the commotion was about and flushed deeply seeing him watching you from across the room. His forearm rested against the wall and he leaned into it. His legs were slightly crossed, the toe of his right boot resting on the dorsum of his left. His helmet may have been on still but you could feel his gaze on you, completely ignoring the gaggle of giggling girls that had surrounded him. You gave a shy wave and made your way over, bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey…what are you doing here?” You whispered as you tugged your hair back into a ponytail.

“Watching you. Can’t believe you were holding out on me! Let’s get out of here,” even through the modulation of his voice you could hear the lilt of joy you’d missed so much while he’d been gone. He plucked the bag from your hand and escorted you out the door, hand ghosting the small of your back sending your heart racing as you began the walk back to your apartment.

**********

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d taken up dance, mesh’la?”

“You always make fun of Hardcase’s dancing and I thought…”

“What? I make fun of Case because he can’t dance. He looks like an injured tauntaun. I wouldn’t make fun of you. You’re… graceful and lovely when you dance. I could watch you all day.” The earnest sincerity of his compliment sent your heart into a tailspin. You were certain that had he not been wearing that bucket you would have kissed him right then and there.

You paused, “But how did you find me? And why? You could have just waited for me at 79s.”

He removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm, “I’m an ARC trooper, babe. Reconnaissance is my specialty,” he winked at you. Your mouth pressed into a hard line as your eyes narrowed.

His bravado dropped as his shoulders turned in and he meekly continued. “Fine, You were so vague in your message and…well if you were on a date I wanted to make sure he wasn’t a sleemo. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You blinked, stunned speechless.

Fives clenched his jaw before a look of determination broke through, “Don’t you ever wonder why I always stay with you when we’re at 79s?”

You shrugged and kicked a pebble as you walked.

“Because I want to. I want to stay with you, not go home with some girl whose name I’ll forget by the time I sneak out of her apartment. I’d pick you a hundred, a thousand, no…a million times. No hesitation. I’d take on the entire CIS, GAR, and the chancellor himself just to keep you safe.”

“Oh. Well…what…what if….” You stared at your feet and picked at your nails.

“Yes, cyare?” His soft baritone offered comfort and safety.

“What if I want that? I want you?” You could barely squeak out the words, terrified you’d read the entire exchange wrong.

His nose crinkled briefly as he processed your statement, “You want…really? Me?”

His eyes lit up as you nodded your affirmation. He dropped your bag and closed the gap between you, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, hooking them under your bum and lifted you into a spin as his helmet clattered to the permacrete.

“Fives!” You yelped with giddy surprise, “what are you doing?”

“I saw it in a holofilm once and I wanted to try it,” a blush rose to his cheeks as he started to lower you back to the ground.

“No! Don’t put me down yet! I like it!” You pressed your forehead to his, unable to contain your beaming grin.

**********

The remainder of your walk back to your apartment was filled with giggles, gentle touches, and joy radiating from both of you so brightly it put the twin suns of Tatooine to shame.

“So I will get cleaned up and we can head to 79s, yeah?” You twittered as you punched in the code for your door. The door hissed open but before you could walk inside, Fives’ fingers circled your wrist and yanked you back toward him.

“Fives!” You shrieked as he swept you into his arms again, “I’m sweaty and gross! I need a shower!”

He grasped the back of your neck and pulled you in for the first kiss he needed more than air.

“Mmph..not gross,” he mumbled, his lips pressed to yours. “…mph…sexy,” he continued with sloppy enthusiasm. “…beautiful…ethereal…delicious…resplendent..a divine goddess I will worship for the rest of my life…” Every praise filled adjective was punctuated with those frantic and sloppy kisses to emphasize his earnestness. “If you insist though, I’m joining you. At this point I don’t think I can stand being apart from you, mesh’la.”

His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back to access your soft neck. The two of you clumsily fumbled through your door, pulling armor and clothing off haphazardly as you refused to pull apart from the kisses you’d both only dreamt of before that moment.

The mess of lips and limbs stumbled into the ‘fresher. You blindly fumbled for the tap as Fives’ hand at the back of your head kept your lips pressed to his own. You sighed into him as his warm soft lips parted, his tongue seeking entrance to entangle itself with yours. He pressed you against the shower wall as the water hissed to life, his lips never staying in one place for long. Your sighs touched his ears like a melody, your body the instrument and his kisses the method of playing it. He reveled in the sanctity of your skin on his and even still you both shared a ravenous need to be closer.

“Turn around,” he whispered into your lips as he reached for the shampoo over your shoulder. His strong deft fingers began massaging your scalp. Kisses were interspersed along your neck and shoulders as his hands weaved an intimate and soothing rhythm through your locks. You tilted your head back, chasing the sensation of his fingers moving through your hair, a sensual sigh escaping your lips. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple as one hand continued massaging and the other trailed down your throat and along your collarbone. His fingers traipsed lazily along your skin, slowly working your floral body gel into a lather, caressing, tickling, teasing. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs flicking your sensitive nipples. His teeth grazed your neck before he sucked his mark into your shoulder. Your melodious sounds stoked his own flame of arousal to a raging wildfire, his own groans a harmony in the song of your love. Your nails dragged along his thighs needily as you pressed ever closer to him. Wordlessly he turned you to face him again, running soapy hands along every soft curve of your body with devotion.

You followed his lead, massaging shampoo into his scalp until suds ran down his neck. You paused to press open mouthed kisses to his pecs, circling your tongue around each of his nipples. He growled in response, grasping at your waist as his head lolled back in electric pleasure. Your fingers traced the v-line leading down to his erect penis. You grasped the shaft, pumping a few times before dropping to your knees and taking his tip in your mouth. You relaxed your jaw allowing him to reach the back of your throat. His velvety skin alone was delicious and you ached to taste his release. You slowly dragged your mouth along his length, your tongue flicking and pressing until you reached the tip. You swirled your tongue around it, your pussy clenched as you tasted the precum he leaked. You sank your mouth to the base once more and he bucked his hips moaning your name. You dug your fingers into the firm cheeks of his ass, encouraging him to fuck your mouth. Drool poured down your chin as he grasped your hair, thrusting wildly as he chased the pleasure your mouth provided. Your fingers tightened their grip as his thrusts became erratic, his release eminent. He braced himself against the shower wall as he created the peak. You swallowed everything he had to give. He pulled you back to your feet for another kiss, moaning as he tasted himself on your tongue.

As the warm water rained down from the shower head rinsing the last of the soap away, Fives’ eyes remained fixed on you, his gaze lustful and admiring at once. His fingers were velvety, memorizing every curve he’d only once admired from afar. He turned you to face away from him, trailing kisses from behind your ear down to your shoulder. His arms wrapped protectively around you. His touch was reverent and worshipful and his kisses had slowed to a purposeful momentum. Through it he revealed the burning desire he’d suppressed until this moment. His hands slowly investigated your body more while his lips danced about your shoulders and neck. His pace was almost agonizingly slow as his hands returned to your breasts, brushing his thumb across your nipple.

The wanton moan that escaped your lips made him chuckle, “Do you know how long I have dreamt of this? You’re even more exquisite than any fantasy I could conjure.”

You reached back and ran your hand across his cheek. He leaned into you, kissing your palm, not stopping until you moved your hand to grasp the back of his neck. The hand that had rested on your thigh hand made its way between your legs. His caress was no more than a tease, a delicate stroke back and forth that stoked the fire within you even more than you’d thought possible.

“F-Fives…I” you gasped as his featherlight ministrations continued while his other hand’s teasing of your nipple remained steady and relentless.

“Patience, mesh’la. Let’s move to your bed.”

Fives wrapped you in a towel and carried you to your bed, laying you down as if you were made of glass. He immediately caged you in, his symphony of kisses whispering secret wordless promises. He pressed his leg against your aching core, groaning as he felt how wet you were for him.

He began pressing soft, open mouthed kisses down your neck. He journeyed along your clavicle, down your sternum to your breasts and then he paused, circling his tongue around your nipple pulling a gasp and then a filthy moan from you. Meanwhile his deft fingers drew wispy concentric circles around your other nipple.

“Fives, oh maker… that’s…you’re so good at that,” you whined barely coherent as he wound you up like a wind up toy.

He purred, catching your eye, his own amber eyes filled with lust and adoration.“Let’s see what else I’m good at.”

He maintained his pace, slow and deliberate as he moved his kisses down to your stomach. He wanted to taste every part of you. He ran a hand up between your breasts and across your collarbone, holding you down as he first ran his tongue and then his goatee over your ticklish hipbone. He made his way to your sensitive core, running his goatee lightly and slowly down your folds. He placed a hand on each thigh, holding your legs open as he licked a single strip along your sex.

“Oh stars, Fives!” You gasped, bucking your hips in pursuit of his tongue. His remaining fiber of self control snapped. His hands gripped your hips, greedily pulling you closer to him. He pressed his tongue deep inside your pussy swirling and thrusting with a vigor that had you nearly screaming his name. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he heard the depraved sounds having his face pressed to your sex drew from you. His fingers returned to your thighs, holding your legs open so he didn’t miss a thing. You dug your fingers into your bed sheets as you panted his name like a prayer. He hummed savoring how you tasted. He’d imagined this moment countless times when alone in his bunk late at night but it didn’t hold a candle to the reality of the taste of your slick on his tongue.

“So good, mesh’la. You taste so good. Such a good girl letting me devour you.”

He gently inserted a finger inside you as he moved his tongue to your clit. He wrote his CT number, one five at a time, over and over again while his finger tenderly toyed with that perfect spot inside of you, first a stroke and then a swirl. That was when the coil he’d been winding up all evening snapped. You saw white as waves of pleasure washed over you. He only pulled back when he was certain you’d been fully satisfied. He trailed light kisses all the way up your body back to your ear.

“Lay down. It’s your turn,” you purred, looking up at him through fluttering lashes.

You nuzzled your nose into the junction where his neck met his shoulder, breathing soft words of praise he could barely hear. You took his earlobe in your teeth, grazing lightly, repeatedly encouraged by the groans resonating from his chest. You sat up taking a moment to admire his beautiful tan skin, playful eyes and the most genuine smile you’d ever known.

As your legs straddled his waist, he ran his hands softly along your curves, “Cyare. So beautiful. Mine.”

He leaned into your touch as you cupped his cheek. You began to rub your dripping wet pussy against his taught length. He whined and bucked his hips chasing your warmth. As the gyration of your hips continued teasing him, you pressed your chest to his. You dragged your nails across his scalp as your teeth made marks along his collarbone.

“Please, mesh’la. Need to be inside you,” he whimpered against your ministrations.

“Sir, yes sir,” you purred as you sheathed his throbbing cock within you, slowly moving down his shaft feeling every glorious vein as your walls pulsed around him. You traced the ‘five’ tattooed on his temple as you began to rock your hips. His groans were celestial and urged you on. His hands traveled to your hips and then to your ass where he squeezed firmly as you rode him slowly gliding up and down on his cock.

You ran your hands along his firm pectorals, tracing his nipples. Gradually you began to roll them between your thumbs and forefingers. He groaned, bucking his hips harder into you. You shifted your hips and leaned back slightly moaning as the new angle allowed you to reach that spot deep inside you once again, this time with his rock hard cock. His grip on your hips was bruising and you shuddered as you felt yourself approaching your own climax once again. He reached a hand up to tease your nipple once more. It was electric, pushing you closer to the edge. You threw your head back in response to the intoxicating sensation.

“Come with me Fives, can you do that for me?” You sounded desperate, and you certainly felt it.

“Kriff yes I can, cyare,” his thrusts into you were erratic as you both chased your second release.

“Inside me, Fives. I need you to fill me up.”

“Oh baby, I love you,” he gasped as you both crested the peak together riding out your synchronous waves of pleasure until you were both spent and nearly overstimulated.

You collapsed onto his chest, out of breath. He ran his fingers through your hair as he softly rubbed your back and delicately placed light kisses along your forehead. Even as you felt him softening inside of you, you weren’t ready to move and lose the feeling of wholeness and connection you felt to him.

You nuzzled your cheek into his chest, “Did you…did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” He asked drowsily.

“You said you love me. Did you mean it or was it just…”

“Yes, mesh’la. Of course I mean it. I am out of my mind in love with you, have been for some time. But, you don’t have to say-”

“I love you too.”

He pressed a firm chaste kiss to your lips.

“Did you still want to hit 79s tonight?” You asked as you pulled back.

“Kriff that. This is way better than that dive,” he chuckled, his amber eyes sparkling in the dim light of your room.

Unfortunately, the beeping of his comlink beckoned him. He grumbled as he shifted beneath you, both of you cursing the emptiness you were left with when you finally rolled off him. He moved to the edge of your bed, awash in the glow of the ambient light. You crawled to him, unwilling to keep your hands off of him for any extended period of time. You pressed yourself to his back, wrapping your arms around his neck while kissing his temple as he answered the comlink.

“This is Fives.”

“Fiiiiivesss! Brother! Where the kriff are you?” A very inebriated voice crackled through the comm.

“Jesse! I told you he isn’t gonna come! Well…he probably came. But not here!” A second voice broke through the background accompanied by a cacophony of laughter and music.

“Tell Hardcase I heard that and we will have words about it tomorrow,” Fives reprimanded while giving you an apologetic smile. “And there’s been a change in plans for me. I won’t be there tonight. I’ll see you back on base tomorrow.”

You heard a few annoyed grumbles and a couple of congratulatory cheers before Fives closed the link.

“You sure you don’t want to meet up with them?” you nudged, an impish twinkle in your eyes.

Fives laughed and shook his head, “No.They’ll live. Here. Alone with you. That’s where I want to be. It’s where I’ve wanted to be for a long time. I’m not wasting it now.”

You squealed with delight as he grabbed you and swung you into his lap.

“Besides, cyar’ika. I was hoping you could perform that dance you were doing earlier today for me. Only for me.” His eyes were dark with desire as his hold on your waist tightened.

“I think I can do that. Should I wear the heels I had on too?” You crooned.

He threw his head back with a huge grin, “Oh maker yes please. But…only the heels. I want to see every inch of you, and then I’m going to make you scream my name again.” He leaned in to kiss your neck, “and again.” And then another kiss, this time to your temple, “and again. Everyone in this building is going to know my name tomorrow morning.” You melted under his touch, desperate to feel him inside you once more.

“Keep that up and I won’t get around to that dance,” you teased through a lascivious sigh.

He growled, “In that case…” he helped you to your feet and gave you a light swat to your behind. “You get those shoes, beautiful and I’ll start the song.”

NSFW Ragu List: @secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @dystopicjumpsuit @mooncommlink @starrylothcat

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@littlemissmanga @sinfulsalutations @dickarchivist @eclec-tech @dreamie411

@flyiingsly @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @cw80831 @eternal-transience-spice

The hyperspace tunnel finally dissolved into streaks of blue and black, and the old gunship groaned like it, too, was exhausted.

Din Djarin sat heavily in the pilot seat, one gloved hand still on the controls while the other rubbed slowly down the front of his helmet.

Behind him came a tiny, sleepy chirp.

“I know,” Din muttered. “I’m tired too.”

Grogu blinked at him from his seat, ears drooping dramatically in betrayal.

The mission had gone wrong approximately seventeen times.

First, the Hutt they were hired to escort had attempted to betray them. Then pirates got involved. Then the Empire. Then, somehow, an exploding fuel station. Din still wasn’t entirely sure how Grogu had gotten hold of detonators.

The child made an innocent face.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Grogu cooed louder.

Din sighed. “You’re lucky she likes you more than me.”

At that, Grogu perked up immediately, tiny claws tapping excitedly against the seat.

Home.

The ship descended through the atmosphere toward the hidden repair dock tucked deep into the canyon settlement. Warm lights glowed through the dusk, and Din felt that familiar pull in his chest the second he saw the open hangar doors.

Her.

He could already picture her standing there with grease on her hands and that unimpressed expression she always wore when he came back half-dead.

The ship landed rougher than usual.

“Easy,” Din grunted.

Grogu squealed as the ship bounced once.

The ramp lowered with a hiss.

And there she was.

Y/N stood beneath the workshop lights with a hydrospanner hanging from her belt, dark streaks of grease smeared across one cheek. One side of the docked ship behind her was still open from repairs, sparks occasionally flashing inside its exposed paneling.

Din’s heartbeat slowed instantly at the sight of her.

Stars.

Every single time.

She crossed her arms immediately. “You’re late.”

Grogu launched himself down the ramp with a happy shriek.

“Hey, my little green love—”

You barely had time to crouch before Grogu collided with your chest, climbing up you like a tiny monkey. You laughed breathlessly, kissing the top of his head while he made clingy little noises into your neck.

“Oh, I missed you too.”

Din watched silently from the ramp.

He always did that.

Watched the two of you like you were something sacred.

Your eyes finally lifted to him. “What happened this time?”

“Mission complications.”

“That means something exploded.”

“A few things exploded.”

You narrowed your eyes instantly.

Din knew that look.

“I had it under control.”

“You always say that right before you almost die.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Grogu made a very dramatic sad noise.

You looked down sharply. “What happened?”

The little traitor pointed at Din and babbled furiously.

Din actually stiffened.

“You snitch.”

Grogu barked happily.

Your expression darkened more and more the longer Din explained.

“You WHAT?”

“The Hutt wasn’t the target—”

“You took on three Imperial cruisers for a HUTT?”

“There were not three cruisers.”

“How many?”

Din paused.

“…Two.”

Your jaw dropped.

Grogu slowly hid his face against your shoulder.

“You are unbelievable.”

“It worked.”

“You got shot!”

“It barely hit me.”

“You crashed the ship!”

“We landed.”

“You are impossible to—”

Grogu suddenly grabbed your face with both tiny hands.

You stopped instantly.

The little green child pressed his forehead against yours and gave the saddest little whine imaginable.

Your anger melted so fast Din almost laughed.

“Oh, no,” you whispered, rubbing his ears gently. “You thought I was mad at you?”

Grogu nodded pitifully.

“I could never be mad at you.”

The child chirped triumphantly and immediately cuddled closer.

Din shook his head.

Manipulator.

You pointed at Din over Grogu’s shoulder. “We are continuing this argument later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t ‘yes ma’am’ me.”

Din almost smiled beneath the helmet.

Home.

This was home.

Later that night, the ship was quiet.

For once.

Grogu had finally fallen asleep in his little bunk after demanding approximately forty-seven minutes of cuddles from both of you.

Din had taken the first real shower he’d had in days, steam still curling through the tiny fresher as he stood shirtless beside the sink.

Water rolled down scarred skin.

Old knife wounds. Burn marks. Bruises spreading dark along his ribs.

New ones.

He stared at them silently in the mirror.

The door slid open behind him.

Din looked up immediately.

You leaned against the doorway, arms folded loosely across your chest.

Your eyes traveled slowly over him.

Not teasing.

Not joking.

Just… looking.

Din suddenly became very aware of every scar on his body.

“You got hurt,” you said quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“You always say that too.”

He watched your reflection approach him.

Closer.

Your fingers brushed carefully over the fresh bruising on his side, and Din inhaled sharply despite himself.

Your gaze lifted instantly to his.

There it was.

That shift.

The air changed all at once.

Din’s hand closed around your wrist before he could stop himself.

You didn’t pull away.

Neither of you spoke.

Then you kissed him.

Hard.

Like you’d been waiting for it.

Din backed you against the wall so fast the metal clanged beneath you both, his hands instantly at your waist while your fingers tangled into his damp curls.

The sound he made against your mouth was low and rough.

Hungry.

Stars, he’d missed you.

The kiss turned messy almost immediately, all breath and restrained frustration and months of near-misses between missions.

“You drive me insane,” you mumbled against his lips.

Din laughed once under his breath before kissing you again, harder this time.

“You like me insane.”

“I like you alive.”

His forehead pressed briefly against yours before his mouth found your jaw, then your neck.

You gasped softly as his hands tightened on your hips.

Without the armor, without the helmet, without all the layers between you, Din always felt overwhelming.

Large hands. Warm skin. Quiet little sounds he only made around you.

“You worried about me?” he murmured against your throat.

“You almost got yourself killed over a Hutt.”

“Mhm.”

“I should hit you.”

“Mhm.. Try me..”

Instead, your hands slid into his hair, tugging gently.

Din groaned softly against your neck, kissing lower, pressing his hips on yours while you laughed breathlessly at the sound.

“Careful,” you whispered.

“You started this.”

“You pinned me to a wall!”

“You kissed me first.”

You opened your mouth to argue—

Tiny footsteps.

Rapid little pitter-patters approaching the fresher.

Both of you froze.

Din lifted his head slowly.

The door slid open.

Grogu stood there holding his blanket.

Silence.

The child looked at Din.

Then at you pinned between him and the wall.

Then at Din’s mouth on your neck.

Grogu’s face scrunched instantly.

A tiny offended growl left him.

Like: yuck.

You burst into laughter immediately, covering your face.

Din closed his eyes in defeat.

“Kid…”

Grogu made another judgmental noise and waddled over, demanding uppies with both hands.

Just like that, the moment shattered.

Din stared down at him for a long second before reluctantly picking him up.

Grogu immediately wedged himself between the two of you possessively.

You laughed harder. “I think he’s jealous.”

“I noticed.”

Grogu glared at Din.

Din stared back.

“…I fought pirates for you.”

Grogu blinked once.

Then deliberately snuggled into your chest instead.

Little traitor.

Guys, would you like some Mando smutt??

Tell me by the comments 🙏

Din had woken up confused. 

Everything around him had been hazy. His mind trapped in a muddled fog. He couldn’t help reaching up with a hand to search for his helmet—letting out an aching groan in doing so. His body only seemed to burn in pain, but despite it, ungloved fingers had still found the beskar that shielded his face.

Relief blossomed. He had felt comfort in finding the helmet in its rightful spot. The knowledge that his creed remained unbroken making the pain he felt almost bearable, and for a moment he just laid there, tracing at its chin.

It would take him another moment before he would try sitting up. Although in actually doing so, he had found himself struggling to move. The pain that had shot up from his side quickly pulled him back down again, causing him to let out a breathy gasp as he did. Stubbornly, he tried once more to get up. He tried to fight and push through the pain, but that of course had only led to him hurting himself more. His body falling back into the cot in a heap. The wounds at his side now screaming at him in agony. 

“Stop that. Hold still.” The sudden sound of your firm voice had made him freeze when he went to try sitting up for a third time, and looking over he found you rushing over to his side with a medkit in your hands. “You’re going to make your wounds worse than they already are if you keep moving like that.” 

“Cyar’ika?” His voice had sounded hoarse when he spoke—its harshness when leaving the modulator making him want to crumble and hide away.

“Yes, it’s me Din.” You hadn’t been phased in the slightest. Only smiling softly at him, as you had gone to sit on the chair next to where you had him set up. “I just went to grab some more bacta from the spare kit for your wounds.”

At your words he had finally taken the chance to glance at the injuries in question. His chestplate had been removed, and his undersuit had very clearly been hastily cut. The gruesome gashes and bruising revealed among the torn fabric making his stomach churn. It seemed to be mostly at his sides—where the armor couldn’t quite protect him. 

It looked unsightly, though it was obvious that you had already begun to patch him up. He could see where the bacta already applied had begun to heal his wounds, and most of the dried blood on his skin had already been cleaned. He hated to imagine how he looked before you had gone to work on them. He could only picture the horrible state he had been in. 

Deciding he couldn’t bear to look at his wounds any longer, he looked away from them to take in his surroundings properly. He already knew he had been in the hull on a spare cot that wasn’t his own. That had been obvious to him. He discovered quickly though, that it wasn’t just any spare cot, but rather it had been your cot he laid in. 

He felt himself flush warm at the realization. Stomach flipping. Logically he knew it had only made sense for you to put him here—his own cot was in a far too cramped space to lay someone in for treatment—but still he couldn’t seem to help the fluttering in his chest. 

Din tried to ignore the butterflies he felt, and glanced back over to where you still sat at his side. You had always been so patient with him—so understanding of him in ways he could never truly express his gratitude for. Noticing his helmet having tilted your way you had smiled gently at him, and though he knew you couldn’t see his expression, he couldn’t help to give a little smile back. 

“I’m almost finished.” You say softly. “Just need to apply the last of the bacta and finish bandaging you up. You ok with that?” 

Din was going to nod—words at the tip of his tongue—but he found himself pausing instead. He sits up slightly. Careful not to irritate his wounds so as to not receive another lecture from you. His eyes shifted around the hull quickly—though he did not find what he was looking for— as horror and panic quickly set in. “The kid. Where’s the kid?”

He has sat up completely now. The shuddering pain he feels an after thought, as your hands go to help support his weight. He can’t believe he had forgotten the child—his son—only realizing now that he hadn’t seen the tiny green creature at all yet since waking. The worst thing imaginable having happened to the little one now at the forefront of his scattered mind.

“Where is he?!”

“He’s fine.” You had soothed him, one of your hands moving to rub a circle along his back. His body almost seemed to relax into it, as such a simple gesture with your words had almost seemed to ease his tension.

“Really?” 

“Yes, he’s just down for a nap right now.” You had motioned over to the hatch where Din and the child usually slept. His eyes behind the visor followed your gaze. The shutter to the hatch had been closed, and though he couldn’t see the child, listening closely he could hear quiet snores among the humming machinery of the ship.

“That’s good.” He let out a relieved breath. He was unable to stop the sudden tears that had trailed down his cheeks—feeling very glad in the moment that the helmet hid them from your sight. “He’s safe. That’s good.”

The Mandalorian allowed you to help lay him back on the cot. When he was settled once more, you had asked again if you could continue to work on him. Din—not trusting his voice—didn't dare to speak another word. He simply nodded. If you had realized he was crying you didn’t say so, and instead you only went back to finish patching up his wounds.

Time had passed by quietly as you worked away at his injuries. Neither of you exchanged much of a single word, save for the soft apologies you gave every now and then when he had let out pained groans. He had wanted to tell you that it was fine—he had suffered far worse—but he had a feeling you wouldn’t take comfort in such a thought. So instead he had just tried to focus on you, watching how your expression pinched in concentration, while doing his best to ignore the discomfort. 

Din probably could have actually fallen asleep like that—watching you work as he eyes grew heavy—maybe he even briefly had for all he knew. Despite the pain, he had actually felt so calm. Your presence soothed him. It brought him comfort. He felt safe there under your care—safety being something he rarely ever felt anymore.

“There we go, all done!” He opened his eyes suddenly—he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them till that moment—to glance back over at you just in time to see the bright smile you wore. 

Din looked down to the wounds again then, careful not to irritate them anymore than he already had done so. It had been wrapped by you tight, but still comfortably, and he could feel the bacta already beginning to do its job of putting him back together. He noticed the hole in his undersuit again, and without much thought he had poked at it. His fingers gentle as they brushed the torn fabric aside to take a better look.

You must have noticed him messing with it, as you had sent an apologetic look his way. “Sorry I had to cut it. Couldn’t get to the wound—uh easily—otherwise.” 

The Mandalorian had hummed in understanding when you had motioned towards the helmet. It wasn’t really an issue anyway. He had more undersuits after all, and he’d rather have a hole in one of them over having his creed broken. If anything he appreciated how careful you had been in that regard. You had always been understanding of his way of life.

“Thank you.” He had managed to get out, though it had only been a small part of what wished to say, as he relaxed back onto the cot. 

“No need to thank me Din—I’m just happy you're alright.” One of your hands goes to his shoulder to give a gentle squeeze as you speak. The contact is brief, anything between you two always is, but it’s still enough to make him flush beneath his layers. “Now get some rest, you won’t be moving with that anytime soon.” 

Silently, Din had watched as you stood to pack up the medkit, and tidy the area around the cot he laid on. He found himself wanting to say more to you, but of course nothing came. He had never been good with words, and had been even worse with expressing his feelings.

He knew what he felt for you had been more than just gratitude. He had known that for a while now. His feelings had grown past that of friendship. He’d never plan to tell you—he didn’t think he ever could—and the fear of ruining what the two of you did have kept him at bay. One of the other worst things he could ever imagine now was losing you.

“I’ll bring the kid over to see you when he wakes up.” Your voice pulls him back from his thoughts, and he nods in understanding. “Sleep tight Din.”

You stood to leave him alone, and he knows should just let you go, but there’s a part of him that can’t. It acts before he can stop himself, unable to hold back like he usually is able to.

“No don’t...” He voice trails, his hand having reached out to grab yours into his own. Stay with me. The words had been at the tip of his tongue, though they never did make their way out.

 Just like anything else had ever wanted to say to you. They had died in his throat, and he had been left silently clinging to your arm like a fool while you stared at him with furrowed brows. He had almost expected you to laugh at him. To tease him for acting so childish.

You didn’t of course. 

Your confused expression morphed into that of another smile. One that was far kinder than he ever deserved. It was almost as if you knew exactly what he was going to say. You had not pulled away, nor did you shake off his hand, instead you leaned closer. Soon planting a kiss to the forehead of his helmet. 

He could feel as his skin warmed underneath the layers, and he watched as you sat back down. You had even pulled the chair closer. You hand squeezing his own gently. “It’s ok, I’m here. I won’t leave you—so get some rest Din.” 

Din had squeezed your hand back—neither one of you ever letting go of the other—and he relaxed on the cot again. You stayed by his side until he’d fallen asleep. His dreams filled with a place that he could call home with you and the child. When he would wake again, he found you still there. Just as you had promised. Only this time the child sat in your lap—who had squealed in delight at seeing him awake. 

“Hey kid.” Din smiled, sitting up enough so he could hold the child, careful not to irritate his still healing wounds. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

The child babbles back in gibberish. It's both relieved and happy sounding. Din can’t help but chuckle. He lets the child play with his fingers, as he spares another glance your way. You're watching the little one as well, a wide grin plastered to your cheeks. You feel him staring though, and your eyes shift to meet his from behind the visor. 

“Thank you, Cyar’ika.” Once again it's all that he can seem to manage. 

“I told you that you don’t need to thank me.” You put a hand on his shoulder, your next words catching him off guard. “I’ll always be there for you.”

The day goes by much like the last. The two of you play cards again because there isn’t much else to do. You aren’t expecting much conversation from him again which is why you are surprised when he asks you, “So what happened to you anyway? Why did you have to leave your home so suddenly?”

“I’m not even sure what the full story is,” you admit. “My parents were doing some job for the Hutt family and something went wrong. They were able to get a message to me telling me to get off world immediately… and that they would not be able to come back…” your words trail off not wanting to go into more detail.

“So they just left their child alone and in danger?” he asks, sounding concerned.

“It wouldn’t have been safe for them to come back. Plus, I’m not as young as I look,” you say with a slight defensive air.

“Well you look like you’re 19 at most,” he guesses. 

“What? No!” you say in an exaggerated way. “I’m actually almost 20,” you manage to say with a mostly straight face.

“Ah,” he lets out a small chuckle. “My mistake.” You win this hand and go to shuffle the deck.

“I’m sure you were doing more dangerous things at my age anyway.” You wonder if he’ll take the bait and talk about himself or not.

“Yeah, well, my way of life isn’t for everyone,” is his only response. You play a few more hands before getting hungry. This time when you go to eat and feed the kid you offer to do so down in the cargo area so he can eat up in the cockpit. He seems to appreciate the offer. You make it clear that I’ll take your time and not enter unannounced so he doesn’t have to feel rushed.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish your food and find yourself bored again. You go through your things in your pack but that just makes you feel forlorn. You had to leave so much behind and your parents didn’t even tell you the full story. You have no idea if it was their fault or just bad luck. But Mando was right, they did leave you behind to save themselves. You certainly didn’t want them to come to harm just to help you but part of you was still upset that they didn’t try harder. You find yourself looking at a holo of them and trying not to cry. Suddenly you feel something on your leg. The kid had walked over to you and was giving you a hug. It’s strange, it’s almost like he knows you’re upset.

“Well aren’t you a little sweetie,” you say picking him up. You walk back and forth in the cargo area rocking him gently until he falls asleep. 

“Hey,” you knock on the wall just outside the cockpit.

“Come in,” he calls back. 

“Your little buddy is asleep in the cradle down there. I was gonna get some rest too,” you let him know.

“Mind if I join you again?” he asks.

“You know I don’t mind,” you respond in a very matter of fact way. In fact you are glad you don’t have to be alone, even if that company is still mostly a mystery to you.

This time when the two of you go to lay down together he puts his arm around you without you having to prompt him. This little sign of affection makes you smile. It also makes you curious about something. “I’d like to ask you something, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” You pause, not really expecting a response. “Since you can’t take off your helmet, are you allowed to have a spouse or, you know, sleep with anyone?”

You can feel his body tense at this question. The silence feels awkward and eternal while you wait for him to speak. 

“To take my helmet off would mean giving up my way of life. I wouldn’t be able to put it back on,” he says and you feel like you detect a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“But just your helmet? Could you take off your gloves?” you wonder aloud, genuinely curious how his customs work. 

“Yes,” he says it slowly and deliberately, but softly as if he’s afraid to admit it. 

You roll your body around to face him. You look directly at his visor where you suspect his eyes are. The black mirror surface shows you only your own eyes. You run one hand gently down the side of his helmet, then down his chest plate. You take one of his glove-covered hands in yours and ask “Can I?”

He nods in agreement. You gently slip off his glove, bring his hand to your face and kiss his palm. He gently touches the side of your face and neck but seems too shy to go further. The warmth of his touch is such a nice contrast to the stark cold of outer space.

You sit up and guide him onto his back before taking off his other glove. You rest your hands on his belt buckle. “Is this ok?” You ask in almost a whisper. 

“Yes,” he quietly answers back, matching your tone. You gently remove his belt and slide your hands up under his shirt feeling his hard abs as you move to straddle him. There isn’t much room so you have to lean forward close to him instead of sitting all the way up. His hands make it to either side of your waist as he starts to touch you back. You slowly guide his hands up under your shirt until he’s caressessing your breasts. You let him keep touching you as you remove your shirt. 

Your hands move back to him as you touch him over his clothes. You can feel his excitement growing as you gently rub the bulge in his pants. Slowly you slide your fingers under the waist band. “Do you want me to keep going?” You ask.

“Yes,” he says more forcefully this time. You undo his pants and carefully release his hard dick. He’s very sensitive to your touch, you hear him gasp and feel him shift under you. Moving your body down you position yourself so that your face is right next to his eager cock. He sits up slightly so he can watch. You smile up at him and ever lightly trail the tip of your tongue up his shaft. He quietly moans as you let him enter your mouth.

Since he’s a virgin you assume he’s very sensitive and you go easy on him. You don’t go too fast or too hard but you do take him all the way in the back of your throat as deep as possible. As he gets more comfortable with you he reaches one hand around the back of your head and directs you to go a little faster as you work up and down his length with your mouth. You hum a little in delight and feel him squirm from the vibration. You love how reactive he is, knowing he’s so turned on gets you even more excited.

At this point you are touching yourself over your panties and are aching to feel him between your legs. You pull back from him, releasing his cock from your mouth, your saliva dripping down it. “I wanna fuck you,” you say looking up at him with wide, egar eyes like a hungery animal ready to devore him.

“I wanna fuck you too,” he says grabbing you under both arms and pulling you up on top of him. You let out a squeal of excitement at the sudden surprise of him lifting you and give him a big playful smile. Instead of trying to awkwardly remove your skirt and panties in such a small space you decide to keep them on and just move your panties aside and let his thick cock slide into you. Despite being very wet it still feels like a tight fit stretching your body to accommodate his size. You both let out a moan as you push down while he lifts his hips to get as deep as possible inside you. You move slowly at first focusing on how he responds to you and loving the little sounds escaping from him.

He grabs your hips as you rock back and forth, letting the pressure build up inside you. His hands grip you harder as he guides you to move faster and you know that neither of you will last much longer. You grip his shoulders so hard that your hands start to hurt but you barely notice as you reach your peak. You moan deeply and almost collapse on top of him letting most of your weight rest on his chest while still writhing against him. He rocks his hips faster and more erratically. You feel him swell up and burst inside you. The two of you lay there for a moment breathing deeply and as you regain your energy. You kiss the side of his helmet thinking about how much you wish you could look into his eyes and kiss him deeply. 

“Yeah. Why not? Besides girl, you don’t seem in the position to be picky.” There’s not much you can argue with there. You knew Peli well enough to know that she was a decent person. Sure she liked to gamble and make money but she didn’t seem like the type to sell you out.

“Alright. Can you set up a meeting?” You’re hesitant to put your life in the hands of a man associated with a vicious warrior clan, but staying here isn’t a better option. You figure that it’s very unlikely that the Hutts hired him to go after you. You weren’t a trained fighter, just a young woman who barely knew how to shoot a blaster. Sending a Mandalorian after you would be like sending a krayt dragon after a womp rat.

“Just pay my finders fee and I’ll take you to him tonight”, she says with a big grin.

Later that day you show up to the mechanic’s place. You managed to pair down all of your belongings to a single canvas backpack. Leaving almost everything behind has you feeling very emotional. However, you try to make the best of it. Maybe this will be a fun adventure. You have always wanted to see the galaxy afterall.

As you walk in you see Peli talking to a tall man in dark silver colored armour. Behind them is a large gun-ship that looks like it has seen better days. A few pit droids scurry around as you approach. Before you can introduce yourself the man in the armour turns to you and says coldly, “I’m sorry but I’m not a transport service.”

You feel your heart sink. “I can pay whatever you want.” Your family's illegal dealings had at least given you some financial comfort. “I need to leave right away and she said you were leaving tonight for the mid rim. I just need to get out of the Arkanis sector. I swear I won’t get in your way.”

He seems to be looking you over but it’s hard to tell with the dark black visor of his helmet covering his eyes. “I’m not cheap.” He says after what feels like a painfully long time.

“Great! See, I knew this would work out!” Peli exclaims as she hands the Mandalorian a large messenger bag and the two of you get on his ship. He lets you know that before going to the mid rim he needs to make a quick stop in Savareen. You aren’t thrilled to hear about this stopover to another criminal controlled planet but he says there’s someone he needs to meet there for information. You realize that you’re lucky he’s taking you with him at all so you don’t complain or try to talk him into dropping you off first. You’ve only been on a ship a handful of times so you try to see this as something new and exciting while pushing aside the reasons behind this excursion.

You follow him up into the cockpit and sit in the empty chair next to him. As you position your bag on the floor you see something move out of the corner of your eye. The bag he’s holding has a small green creature in it.

“Here, hold him,” he hands the creature over to you explaining, “you’re in his seat.” Big black eyes look up at you as you hold the little guy in your lap. A tiny 3 fingered hand reaches up to pull at the necklace you are wearing.

“So who’s this?” You ask.

“He’s a kid I’m taking care of,” he explains as he starts the ship.

“That reminds me. I didn’t get your name,” you say before sharing your name.

“Most people just call me ‘Mando’,” he says flatly.

“Really? That’s kinda odd.” He ignores your response and appears to focus on flying. The ship feels shaky at first but then things smooth out. You start to feel a bit claustrophobic on the small ship and worry that this trip is going to be very awkward. Your pilot seems to have no interest in talking to you and there isn’t much else to do while drifting through space. Luckily the trip is fairly short. Savareen is a short hyperjump away so in no time you are watching this ship land on yet another sandy planet.

“It’s safest if you stay here,” he says and you get the feeling that he’s right. “Here,” he says while unscrewing a small metal knob from the ship's control panel, “the kid likes to play with this.” He drops the silver metal ball into the child’s tiny hands. Then you watch him leave the ship, the ramp closes back up behind him as he walks off towards a small village nearby.

You put the kid down letting him entertain himself while you poke around the ship. It’s small so you figure there isn’t much to see but you’re still curious about the stranger you are traveling with. He seems to have a rather droid-like personality and you wonder if all Mandalorians are like that.

The first door you open ends up being the head. Like the rest of the ship it feels small and cramped. You turn to your right and push open what looks like a storage compartment on the wall. As the two doors swing open you see a wall of various types of guns and weapons. Most people you knew on Tatooine had a blaster or two but this seemed excessive to you. It looked like he was ready to fight a small drug cartel by himself. You gently closed the doors and decided not to snoop around anymore. Maybe it was better for you to not know what was on this ship. You sit on the floor next to the kid and he coos with delight to have a friend to play with. You roll the little ball back and forth with him for a while but start to feel cooped up. You had hoped Mando would be back sooner. Your boredom gets the best of you and you scoop up the kid and decide to take a look outside the ship. You eventually figure out how to lower the rear ramp and walk out onto the sandy landscape. You see a beautiful large ocean in the distance but decide it is much too far away for you to walk there and back. The last thing you want is for Mando to get back and for you to be missing with the kid. You really don’t want to piss off a man that owns that many weapons.

Instead of going far you just walk around the ship stretching your legs and enjoying the sun on your skin. The air feels nice, slightly more humid than what you are used to and you find it refreshing. You day dream about how nice it would be to go see that ocean up close and then notice that the little one is fast asleep in your arms. You walk back into the ship and place the kid in a small blanket lined cradle that you noticed when looking around earlier. As you do so you hear a dull thud sound behind you. You figure that it’s Mando walking up the ramp so you turn around to greet him.

Your heart races as you see a man in a large cloak pointing a blaster at you. The bright sun behind him makes it hard to see anything but his silhouette, however, you are certain this was not the man you were expecting. “There’s nothing valuable on this ship,” you lie hoping he’s just some petty criminal looking for quick cash and not someone looking for you.

“Shut up child!” a hoarse voice yells back at you. He takes a few more steps onto the ship but you find yourself frozen in place. “If you got no money then I might as well take you. Girls are always worth somethin’,“ he says with a low guttural laugh. You desperately want to think of a way out of this situation but your mind goes blank and your body stays frozen like marble.Time seems to slow down as the figure gets closer.

Then you hear a shot fire and instinctively squeeze your eyes closed. You are surprised to not feel any pain and instead see the man in front of you collapse as you open your eyes again. This time a familiar figure enters your view. He runs onto the ship and throws the body of the intruder out as the ramp starts to close. You hear more blaster fire in the distance and see a burst of bright red light as a bolt hits the ship. You feel the craft sway slightly and behind you the kid wakes up with a yelp. Mando runs past you and up into the cockpit to start the ship. You grab the kid and follow him up there.

“You didn’t listen to me,” he admonishes while rushing through the launch sequence.

"I mostly listened,” you insist. “You said you were going to be quick. That wasn’t quick.” You hear and feel more shots being fired at the ship. You hope this old antique can withstand being shot at but don’t feel very confident about that. However the ship takes off and after one last blast that really rocks the ship you are out of the line of fire. Whoever those people were, they at least don’t seem to be following you. “What the stang happened back there?” you demand.

“The information I had turned out to be bad,” he says in his cryptic way. Clearly whatever is going on he doesn’t feel like sharing it with you. Considering he almost got you killed you feel slightly annoyed by this. But then again he also saved your life so you figure you can’t be too mad.

"Dank Farrik," you hear him mutter under his breath as he works the controls on the ship. “They must have damaged the hyperdrive with those shots. I won’t be able to fix it until we land again. We should go back to Tatooine to fix the ship.”

“No!” you exclaim much louder than you mean to since you are still on edge from moments earlier. “You can’t take me back there,” you plead emphatically.

“Geonosis is close too,” he suggests.

“Yeah, so close to Tatooine they are practically on top of each other. That’s not safe for me either. I paid you to get me out of the outer rim. I need you to do that.”

“Ok,” he sighs. “I’ve got another idea. But it’s going to be a long trip without hyperdrive. It will take multiple days. I’m not sure I have enough rations on hand…” he explains as he checks a compartment behind him.

“I’ve got food in my bag too.” You open the backpack to show several bags of dehydrated foods you have on you. After once being stranded in the desert as a kid you quickly learned never to travel anywhere without food and water.

He seems to be making some mental calculations before saying, “Ok. If that’s really what you want to do we can make this work.”

He sets the autopilot to your destination and to kill time the two of you play cards together. He’s better than you but only slightly. You wonder if he’s going easy on you because you’re much younger than him. At least you assume that you are much younger than him but it’s hard to tell with all that armour on. Part of you wants to ask his age but you figure that would be rude and doubt he would give you a straight answer anyway.

After a while he asks, “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, kinda” you respond. Watching the stars go by had put you in a sort of trance and you had forgotten when the last time you ate was. He reaches behind him and grabs two metal ration tins offering you one so you can save your other food for later.

“Can you feed the kid too?” He asks as he passes both tins to you.

“Sure. Aren’t you going to eat?” you enquire.

“No,” is his only response. You feed the kid first, watching him giggle with delight as he inhales his food. He’s so cute, with his big ears and the little cooing sounds he makes, that you can’t help but give him some of your share of food too. Mando doesn’t say anything to you but you notice him look over as you share your food. You have no idea how he’s related to this kid but he does seem protective of it. After eating the kid quickly falls asleep in your arms.

Some more time passes in silence before he says, “You might as well get some rest too. It’s going to be a long trip.” His voice is deep and soothing through the modulator in his helmet. You wished he talked more.

“Is there somewhere I can lay down?” You ask, realizing you could never fall asleep sitting up.

“You can take my bunk,” he offers.

“Well, then where are you going to sleep?” You ask.

“I’ll be fine,” he says.

“That’s not really an answer. You can just lay down next to me if you want. I’d feel bad stealing your bunk from you,” you say honestly.

“Are you sure you’re ok with that?” He asks, sounding surprised by your offer.

“Sure why not? We’re already going to be stuck together in a small space for a while. I don’t want to force you to be uncomfortable on your own ship.” He seems to agree with your logic and leads you down to the area with the one small bunk. Still sleeping, he places the kid in the small cradle just outside the bunk. You take off your shoes and lay down on one side of the firm bed. To your surprise he gets in without taking off his armour.

“Wouldn’t it be more comfortable to take off your helmet?” You ask.

“I can’t. Not in front of other people,” he says, as serious as ever.

“Well if I turn this way you’re technically behind me,” his lack of response tells you that he either didn’t get the joke, or, more likely, he didn’t find it amusing. “Sorry I’m not trying to be rude. I just don’t understand why it’s a big deal,” you explain.

He gives you a brief explanation of the code he lives by and how not removing his helmet around others is a significant part of his religion. It seems odd to you but you want to respect his choices. After all, your life probably seems strange to most other creatures in the galaxy so who were you to judge?

He pulls a thin blanket over the two of you. It’s scratchy and appears to be made out of some type of animal hair. Being in an unfamiliar place far from home with someone you barely know has you feeling more lonely than you have ever been. You turn your head back to look at the Mandalorian behind you. Maybe he was a brutal hunter who just killed someone in front of you but just like Peli had said, he was also nice. Boldly you grab his hand and pull his arm over your body. This seems to startle him at first but after a moment he pulls you in closer to him. Your back presses up against his metal beskar chest plate and his arm curls around your midsection. You placed your hand over his gloved hand and the two of you drifted off to sleep.

Grogu throws his arms down and shakes his head, making an affirmative “no” noise. Din sighs again, and stands from his seat. He makes his way to the door, bracing himself for what he’ll find when he seeks out Kenai. He opens the door, instructing Grogu to stay in his seat. Din walks slowly to the bunk Kenai sleeps restlessly. He takes one final step towards her bed, his armor clinking softly. He peers over her shoulder, her form curled in a trembling fetal position. Her brows are knitted together and veiled in a thin layer of sweat despite her shivering. Her eyes are squeezed shut in a way that looks almost painful. The cup of broth he’d brought her a few hours ago sits untouched, now cold and thick instead of steaming and fragrant. He hesitates before reaching out, ever so gently touching her leg. 

She jerks away from him and groans in pain with the movement. 

“Kenai, you need to eat. It will help the withdrawals.” He motions to the bowl on the stand next to her.

She doesn’t answer, she just shivers and curls up more into herself. Din stands at the foot of her bed, staring at her broken form. He is entirely unsure what to do with himself, why Grogu wouldn’t let him turn her in, and why he made a deal with a very clearly traumatized alcoholic. After a few moments, there’s a soft patter of feet on the metal floor of the ship, and a small bundle leaps onto the bed beside Kenai. He tenderly walks up to her, close to her face. Din begins to reach for the alien, a stern look on his face beneath the helmet. Before he can reach the child, Grogu reaches out and places a small hand on Kenai’s forehead. She doesn’t move away. Grogu closes his eyes, and after a moment, her shivering starts to cease. The tense look on her face and crease between her eyebrows disappears. Grogu makes a soft noise as he pulls his fingers away from Kenai’s face. 

She’s… asleep.

Grogu looks up at his father with a proud look on his face, before closing his eyes and falling onto the bed next to Kenai, sleeping next to her now restful looking form. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kenai doesn’t remember much over the last week. The beginning was excruciating. She was cold and warm at the same time, her entire body aching and her limb felt like they were on fire. All she could do was hope for death and peace, maybe, just maybe, the Mandalorian would have mercy on her and turn her in. Leave her somewhere for some desperate species to pick her off the face of the universe she could never fucking escape. 

And then, there was nothing. No pain. No dreams, no flashes of her memories, her past. She slept. An energy she had long forgotten flooded her veins, her bones, and her soul. A calming presence that her heart felt at home with, at peace with. It whispered to her in old tongues, speaking to parts of her soul she thought shattered years ago. It brought her strength and resolve. It gave her the will to fight.

 For the first time in 13 years, she slept peacefully. She must have slept for days, perhaps a week before she woke up, tucked into bed with a glass of water and a bowl of steaming broth next to her. She sat up and looked around the bunk. It was dim, stars flying by outside of her window. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, feeling the hum of the energy running through the ship. The old wiring sparks below her, her senses picking up on even the smallest of the irregularities. It has been a long time since she could feel energy around her like this. She raised her hand, running her fingers over the invisible strands of power around her. She almost smiled.

Eventually, she roused from her room, padding silently into the cockpit, bowl of broth in her hands. Her feet touched the ground softly, lightly wrapped in fabric. She wore a simple fabric tank, showing her inked and muscled arms. Her legs are wrapped in flowing silk, moving wispily with each movement she made. Her hair, however, remained messy. A shaggy length to her shoulders, choppy bangs covering her forehead and most of her jagged facial scar. She runs her fingers over the other scar, the smaller one above her ear, feeling the bald patch there.

The cockpit doors open for Kenai and she steps in, watching the flashing beams of light speed by as the ship travels through hyperspace. The chairs are all empty, and blue crumbs rest in one of the seats. 

Must be the little one.

She raises the bowl to her lips, taking a small sip. The rich, warm flavors melt into her mouth and sigh audibly before raising it again, taking much larger drinks. 

“You’re awake.” The Mandalorian says, crouched in one of the corners working on broken wiring. 

Kenai startles for a moment before regaining her composure. 

“My apologies. I didn’t know you were here.” She takes a step back towards the door before he speaks again. 

“You can stay. You aren’t confined to the bunk you’ve rested in. I offered shelter. That means my ship, and wherever I reside, you may as well.” He looks over his shoulder, the armor reflecting the blurred stars above them. 

Kenai hesitates for a moment before nodding slightly and moving back towards the center of the room. She watches him turn back and work for a moment, tilting her head slightly. She can feel the energy coming off of him, a calm and steady rhythm surrounding her. After a moment, she turns back to the glass windows in front of her. She sips more of the broth.

“Thank you.” Kenai almost whispers. 

“For?” The Mandalorian responds.

She looks at the back of his head incredulously. 

“What do you mean ‘for’? You didn’t turn me in for your bounty, which I am certain has made whoever paid you enough to come after me very unhappy. Not to mention nursing me back to consciousness and providing me with all of this. You don’t even know me.” 

“Grogu would have been very unhappy with me, had I let you wither away in that bunk or sold you to the highest bidder.” He said flatly, setting down his multi-tool and standing to face her. He was… much taller than she remembered. 

Well, Kenai, you were a drunken mess.

Shut up.

Kenai shakes her head slightly, earning a small tilt of the head from the Mandalorian. She doesn’t look at him, instead looking at the control panel of his ship. They both stand in silence for a moment, Kenai’s fingers grasped around the bowl tightly. He takes a few steps forward, pressing a few buttons on the panel. There’s a whizzing noise and Kenai can feel the shift in energy and she lets it roll over her shoulders, feeling like a soft caress. She had forgotten what it was like to feel… powerful. 

“My name is Kenai.” She spits out. 

He already knows that, idiot. 

Shut. Up. 

“...but you knew that already.” She follows up with.

He presses a few more buttons before looking at her. 

“Hello, Kenai.” He looks at the seat closest to her, grimacing under his helmet at the crumbs left by the youngling. He motions to the seat behind her, not wanting to startle her by moving too close to her too quickly. She nods and sidesteps quickly. He brushes the crumbs off quickly with a gloved hand, muttering something about his son’s manners. He backs off as quickly as he had approached. He motions for the chair for her to sit. She waits for a moment for him to sit, before she follows suit. Her posture stays rigid, sitting on the edge of her seat, still gripping the bowl for its life. 

“You’re tense.” He states, flipping switches on the controls.

Kenai looks at him sideways. 

“I am in a space ship with a man I have never met before, a strange alien child I was bargained with to train in the Force, and heading to creators knows where in this galaxy. Forgive me if I am tense.” 

He only chuckles through the voice modulator.

“You’ve got a tongue on you when you’re not buried in a bottle.”

Kenai turns her head away from him slightly. Something crawls up from her stomach, turning her face red and making her stomach flip. 

Shame, maybe?

The Mandalorian seems to sense her emotions and the grin under his helmet disappears. She finishes off her broth, holding the bowl in her lap. He clears his throat after the silence stretches too long for comfortability. 

“Din Djarin.”

She seems to relax by a fraction, her grip loosening. Her body turns slightly in his direction, her gaze falling on the indented cheeks of his helmet. 

When the day started, you hadn’t meant to redecorate your apartment. It had just… happened. Sitting staring at the windows around you, you couldn’t help but decide that they needed sprucing up a little. So instead of the thick heavy curtains that you had to block out the fluorescent lights of Coruscant, you wanted to change them out for something that matched the colours of your living room a little more.

The new curtains were already waiting to be hung up. Cody had promised to do them when he returned back from meeting with General Kenobi. But, you deliberated, it would save him a job if you did it now. Cody had been working none stop, looking after both you, the men and his usual duties helping to run the 3rd System Army.

Plus, it would help with the boredom that came with just lying on the couch, leg propped up and surrounded by a mountain of pillows.

It was decided then.

You would put up the new curtains, all you had to do was get the pole down and thread on the rings that was attached to your new décor. It was an easy job, shouldn’t take more than 20 minutes, even with your bad leg. All you’d have to do was make sure that you were on a firm and stable surface.

It had all been going so well. The side table you were standing on was secure, your hip - though twinging - was doing okay. The curtains were nearly all the way on the pole when you were interrupted.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice cut across the room sharply.

Kriff! You barely had time to register the voice when the stool underneath you wobbled dangerously. Double kriff! Flailing your arms, you grimaced, closing your eyes tightly as you prepared to hit the floor with a rather hard bump.

However, a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist, catching you before you could hit the ground. You were pressed against his chest, held tightly so you wouldn’t injure yourself any further. The edges of his armour was digging into you uncomfortably but you didn’t mind, knowing you were secure in his arms.

Blinking, you looked up into the beautiful golden brown orbs of your lover. “Hey love” you greeted, grimacing slightly at being caught red handed. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to be back home for hours yet.

“You’re meant to be resting, mesh’la” he said reproachfully, putting you on your feet and guiding you back onto the couch and it’s soft pillows. As soon as you were sitting down, he fluffed the pillows around you, making sure you were comfortable.

“Cody! I am resting!” you whined, grimacing at the pain that flared in your leg.

“Helix said you should be taking it easy” Cody corrected, shaking his head as he headed towards your medication. He slipped off his armour as well until he was in his blacks, stacking the plastoid up to be cleaned later. He returned to you quickly, not wanting to leave you in pain long.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but huff. Maybe you were getting a bit of cabin fever, but that still didn’t mean you had to sit on the couch all day. “Technically he also said I should be moving around, gaining some mobility” you reminded, quickly taking the medication that he handed over to you. You didn’t want to admit it but you probably shouldn’t have been climbing on stools and hanging up new curtains.

"If you don't take it easy cyare, I'm going to have to comm Helix" Cody sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

Your mouth fell open, shocked at his last resort. "You wouldn't!" You gasped dramatically, eyes glinting mischievously. You could see a matching look on your Commander's. 

"Try me!" 

"I always try you. You tell me that at least once a week" you rolled your eyes, finally relaxing against your pillows. 

Cody chuffed, smile pulling at his lips as he began to massage your feet, strong fingers pressing into your tired arches. "You're not wrong, cyare. You do like to test me" he agreed warmly, feeling contentment settle into his bones as you let out a soft groan at his touch. 

"Got to keep you on your toes, Commander" you grinned, closing your eyes and sinking into the domestic bliss that was settling in your apartment now that Cody was home. You couldn’t help but sigh as he began to massage up your leg, helping to ease some of the tension that you were carrying there.

“As long as you stay off yours” he said pointedly, lips twitching just enough to show he wasn’t truly angry with you. He just worried. A lot.

After seeing you go down by a clanker, and the scream you had let out as it had fallen on you, breaking your leg. Helix and his assistant medical officer, Slice, had spent hours working on you. Grafting bone from your hip to help repair the damage. Cody could still remember you being wheeled out of surgery, the way you looked like you were barely clinging on, monitors beeping and informing him of your vitals.

If only he had been fast enough to get to you.

Obi-Wan had tried to ease his guilt, reminding him that it was not his fault and there was no such thing as a perfect battle. But it was little comfort when he was sitting at your bedside, waiting for you to wake up.

Thankfully, the 212th was stationed on Coruscant for a couple of weeks on shore leave, while their Jedi General was needed at the Temple. It allowed you both to spend time in your apartment together and to rest and recuperate until he was shipped off to battle once more, while you stayed on planet to recover.

“What were you trying to do anyway?” Cody wondered, breaking himself out of his thoughts and turning back to see you staring at him. He looked away from your knowing gaze and back to the task in his lap.

“I was hanging up those new curtains. I thought it wouldn’t be too strenuous for me if I could stand on something secure. Honestly, I was getting a little bored of these four walls” you admitted, nudging his knee with your other foot.

The Marshal Commander frowned, brow furrowing at your answer. “I told you I would do them after I got back from the debriefing, cyare” he rebuked softly, heart aching at the thought of you hurting himself while he wasn’t here, just because he should have completed the task that you had asked him to do earlier.

“I know, I know. I just wanted to help you” you sighed, sitting up and cupping his cheek. “You’ve been working so hard, you’ve had so much stress on your plate. The war, your brothers, looking after me” you listed, staring into his umber eyes. Leaning forward, you pressed a gentle kiss to the middle of his brow, smoothing down his forehead. “I wanted to make your life just a little bit easier” you explained, running your nose against his before pulling away a little to see him once again. Your handsome, kind, caring man.

Cody’s eyes had softened as he took in your words, understanding now that you had truly just been trying to help. To help ease the weight on his shoulders. “Thank you, cyare, you’re too kind for your own good” he breathed, carefully pushing you back into the cushions beneath you as he brushed his lips against yours. He was mindful of your injuries and didn’t want to cause you any harm.

“But I’m here now. Why don’t you put me to work, huh? Only time you’ll be able to give orders to a Marshal Commander” he chuckled, sliding out from under your legs on his lap and standing up. An analysing look at the job assured him that what you had done was excellent, all he had to do was finish the job.

Scoffing, you relaxed back and admired the view of your love in his body glove. “I doubt it. You love me giving you orders” you teased, winking at him.

The heavy double doors of the Republic Senate Banquet Hall were designed to keep the chaos of Coruscant out, but all they really accomplished was trapping a different, far more exhausting brand of madness inside.

To the average galactic citizen, tonight’s gala was the pinnacle of high society. It was a dazzling display of unity, wealth, and unwavering resilience in the face of a grueling war. To you, it was a waking nightmare. The air inside the cavernous hall was heavily perfumed with imported Corellian lilies, expensive roasted meats, and the sweat of hundreds of politicians who had never seen the muddy trenches of the Outer Rim. The noise was a bruising weight on your ears. It was a chaotic symphony of clinking crystal glassware, high pitched forced laughter, and sycophantic conversations that made your temples throb.

Worse than the noise, however, was the clothes.

The formal ceremonial robes of a Jedi were clearly designed by someone who had never had to swing a lightsaber, let alone stand perfectly still for four hours under the blinding glare of high intensity lights. Your formal attire was a masterpiece of restrictive design. The inner tunics were woven from a heavy, stiff linen that scratches mercilessly against your collarbone. Over that sat the drapes. They were thick bands of dark, heavy fabric that pressed down on your shoulders like pieces of lead armor. The final insult was the formal cloak. The yards upon yards of floor-length silk caught on your boots every time you shifted your weight, wrapping around your legs like a fabric trap.

To the Senate, the outfit looked like discipline and flawless devotion to the Republic. To you, it just felt like a very expensive, very hot coffin.

You were stationed near the Chancellor’s elevated dinner table, ostensibly under the guise of "heightened security detail." In reality, you were a glorified living ornament. The Jedi Council loved to place its generals on display at these functions. You served as a subtle, visual reminder to the wealthy dignitaries that the Order was successfully bleeding for them on the front lines, so they should probably keep voting to fund the military.

Every muscle in your shoulders was locked into a painful knot. You tried to rely on your training, closing your eyes for a brief second to reach into the Force, searching for a thread of peace. But the Force in this room was a muddy, turbulent swamp. 

One senator was hoping another senator’s trade route would collapse. Meanwhile, a corporate delegate was furious that his glass of Alderaanian wine wasn't chilled to the exact, correct temperature. 

The sheer, concentrated selfishness of the upper class was staggering. If you stayed inside for one more minute, you were going to entirely lose your composure.

Stepping backward into the deep, welcoming shadow of a massive marble pillar, you bided your time. You watched the crowd for a while, timing your exit perfectly between a boisterous burst of laughter from a group and the grand entrance of a fresh, distracting tray of rare Naboo appetizers. The moment the eyes of the surrounding dignitaries shifted toward the food, you bolted.

You snuck down the hallway and slipped through a pair of arched glass doors at the rear of the hall and stepped out onto a balcony.

The air out here wasn't exactly clean - it was the upper levels of Coruscant, after all. It tasted faintly of speeder exhaust, and the permanent metallic rust of a world entirely made of durasteel. It was cold, but more importantly, it was beautifully quiet.

You immediately leaned your forearms against the polished stone railing, letting your head drop forward. You closed your eyes and took a long, slow, deep breath, letting the wind whip at your robes. Slowly, the tight, throbbing knot behind your eyes began to loosen.

You knew you couldn't stay out here forever. Eventually, an aide or a fellow Jedi would notice your absence. If anyone asks, you firmly told yourself, crafting the mental script, that you are conducting a physical sweep of the perimeter. You were just assessing security vulnerabilities along the outer terrace. You are doing your job. That would work. 

"You look like you're plotting an escape, General."

The voice was instantly recognizable. You didn't even have to open your eyes to know who it was. Regardless, you opened your eyes and turned your head, a genuine, unforced smile breaking across your face for the first time all evening.

Commander Fox stood in the balcony doorway. He wasn't wearing his helmet - it was tucked securely under his left arm. In his right hand, he casually carried two condensation beaded glasses of chilled liquid.

"Commander," you exhaled, letting your rigid posture slump just a fraction now that you were in safe, trusted company, "Are you accusing me of slacking?"

"Just making an observation," Fox replied smoothly, his boots clicking with each step against the stone tiles as he walked out onto the balcony. He stepped right up to the railing and extended his right hand, offering one of the glasses, "Here. It looked like you were about two minutes away from drawing your lightsaber on yourself."

You took the glass, your fingers brushing briefly against the rough, black fabric of his glove. You took a sip and nearly sighed with relief. The liquid was crisp, ice cold, and carried a sharp bite. It was the exact kind of drink you would get for yourself if you wanted to forget where you were.

"You're terrifying, Fox," you teased, raising the glass to him in a silent toast, "Did they teach you mindreading on Kamino, or is this a specialized skill they only give in Commander training?”

Fox took a slow, deliberate sip from his own glass, a rare, faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Neither, Sir. It’s just what happens when a clone gets stuck on the same planet with his commanding officer for an entire war. You learn the tells. For instance, when you start rubbing the bridge of your nose right before the Chancellor speaks, it means I have approximately ninety seconds before you completely bolt."

You let out a soft, genuine laugh, "Am I really that transparent?"

"Only to me," Fox murmured. His eyes drifted away from you, fixing on the endless, swirling traffic lanes below, where millions of speeders blurred into rivers of red and white light cutting through the skyscrapers. His smirk faded, replaced by his usual, no nonsense professionalism, though his tone remained relaxed, stripped of the rigid military formality he used regularly, "And frankly, I don't blame you tonight. The banquet is a complete disaster. I've spent the last hour stationed near the western entrance listening to a senator from Bespin complain about the air quality on Coruscant."

You snorted into your drink, thoroughly amused, "You're joking."

"I wish I were," Fox exhaled, "A man who literally represents a floating city surrounded by toxic gas clouds spent fifteen minutes lecturing me on atmospheric filtration systems and the legal rights of Tibanna gas workers. Protocol dictates that I remain silent, stand at attention, and maintain a pleasant, compliant demeanor. But internally? I was calling him a colossal idiot in three different languages. It's pure bantha crap in there tonight, General. You don't want to go back in for the closing toasts. Trust me."

"And what do you suggest I do instead, Commander?" you asked, tilting your head back against the stone pillar, looking up at him with a playful, challenging glint in your eyes, "Desert my post entirely? Mr. Protocol himself, suggesting a retreat from a mandatory Senate function? I'm shocked. Truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had a hot date lined up down in the lower levels."

Fox actually scoffed, a short, sharp laugh that rattled the plastoid plating on his chest. "A date. Right. Because between managing logistics for this entire planet, dealing with the Chancellor’s endless security audits, and hunting down rogue bounty hunters, I have so much free time to court civilians."

He turned his head to look back at you, his intense gaze holding yours for a moment longer than usual. "No date. But I did manage to acquire something far more valuable than a civilian companion during a customs raid in the lower docks this morning."

Your curiosity sparked instantly. Your strict Jedi training entirely failed to suppress the sudden, human urge to know what a tightly wound Clone Commander considered contraband worth bragging about. You leaned in slightly, your robes rustling. "Oh? Do tell, Commander. What did you find?"

Fox leaned closer, lowering his gravelly voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as if they were discussing highly classified Separatist intel rather than standing on a balcony at a public gala. "My men impounded a light Corellian freighter coming in from the Mid Rim. The captain was smuggling unmarked spices, but his personal cabin had some luxury items. Specifically, a pristine, high definition, completely functioning holoscreen. Color-accurate, localized audio, no blue hue. The whole works."

You blinked, a bit startled. "Fox. Did you steal a civilian holoscreen?"

"I requisitioned a piece of unmonitored electronic equipment for monitoring purposes," he corrected flawlessly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of rare, wicked mischief, "It is currently set up and fully operational in my quarters at the military ops center. And before we left for this nightmare gala, Thone got it hooked up to the local broadcast feed."

You stared at him, a sudden, ridiculous realization dawning on you. "Wait so you’re saying-"

"Dilf Dungeon," Fox beamed, “That diabolical show you saw that ad for outside 79’s and have been curious about ever since? The season premiere is tonight. If we leave through the eastern maintenance lift right now, we can escape before the Chancellor's convoy blocks the main exits."

The sheer, glorious absurdity of the situation struck you right in the chest. A highly respected Jedi General and the fearsome Commander of the Coruscant Guard, elite protectors of the Republic, bailing on a crucial, high stakes political gala just to go watch trashy civilian dating drama on a stolen holoscreen.

"Fox," your voice was entirely devoid of any Jedi restraint as a massive, beaming grin split your face, making your eyes crinkle, "If I get caught, I am telling the entire Council that you baited me.”

Fox pulled his helmet from under his arm, sliding it back over his head. Through the visor, his voice carried a distinct, amused smirk. "They'll never believe you, General."

By the time Fox's private office door sealed shut behind you, the tension in your shoulders from the weight of your robes had turned into a dull, throbbing ache.

The main office room was exactly what you would expect from the Commander of the Coruscant Guard. It was a functional, unyielding workspace dominated by a heavy central desk stacked with encrypted datapads and a flickering tactical grid mapping the lower districts. There were no personal trinkets and no signs of life outside of the strict demands of a soldier.

To the side, however, a narrow door led into his private quarters. It was a compact layout designed for sleeping and that’s it. The quarters were dominated by a single, narrow cot pushed flush against the dark durasteel wall like a utilitarian daybed, and tucked just beside it was a private refresher.

"Make yourself at home, General," Fox murmured as he unlatched his chest plate. He set the plastoid armor into its designated spot for the night. "The security logs for the night shouldn't hit my desk for another few hours. We have time."

He stepped past the cot, bending down to pull a heavy, reinforced storage crate out from beneath the frame. He flipped the latches, fished out a folded bundle of dark fabric, and disappeared behind the sliding door of the refresher.

You leaned your back against the edge of his metal desk, crossing your arms tightly over the heavy, suffocating layers of your ceremonial robes. Every second spent wrapped in the stiff, chafing inner tunics felt like a minor form of torture.

When the refresher door hissed open a minute later, Fox stepped out completely transformed. The imposing Commander of the Guard had vanished. In his place was a man wearing simple, standard issue gray GAR sweatpants and a form fitting black t-shirt with a faded Republic cog stamped over the left chest. Stripped of the bulk of his armor, the sheer physical reality of his build was obvious. But most important, he looked entirely comfortable.

An immediate, sharp wave of jealousy hit you right in the chest.

"You've got to be kidding me," you groaned, looking from his relaxed collar down to your own heavily draped, velvet lined prison of a robe. "You look like you're about to take a standard cycle of shore leave, and I am currently sweating through three separate layers of formal roves. Do you happen to have a spare set of those in that crate, or am I expected to watch the premiere of Dilf Dungeon like an expensive human statue?"

Fox paused, an amused smirk tugging slowly at the corner of his mouth. He leaned his hip against the doorframe of the refresher, crossing his thick arms over his chest as he took in the sheer, tragic absurdity of your elaborate attire.

"The crate is strictly inventoried for Guard personnel, General," he hummed, his voice dripping with dry, playful trouble. "I'm fairly certain misappropriating Grand Army physical training gear for a Jedi civilian counts as a code violation. I'd hate to have to write myself up."

"Fox," you warned, narrowing your eyes at him with a mock-serious glare, "I am your commanding officer. If I have to sit on that cot in these formal drapes, I will make it my personal mission to make you audit the entire military inventory logs for the next three standard months."

Fox let out a short, low huff of a laugh, shaking his head. "Rank pulling. Truly unbecoming of a peacekeeper."

Despite the teasing, he moved back to the storage crate beneath his bed without a second thought. He dug through the neatly stacked contents until he found another bundle of dark gray and black fabric, tossing it directly at your chest. "Here. Go. Before you actually find a code violation to charge me with."

You caught the heavy, soft material with a triumphant grin, "Thank you, Commander."

You practically bolted into the small refresher. With an almost aggressive sense of relief, you began tearing at the intricate, stubborn bands at your shoulders. You unpinned everything, letting the thousands of credits worth of custom tailored fabric fall into a sad, crumpled, abandoned pile in the corner of the floor.

You shook out your arms, letting out a long, shuddering breath of pure physical freedom, and reached for Fox's spare clothes.

The moment you pulled the gray sweatpants up, however, the reality of the size hit you. Clones were engineered to be tall, heavily muscled soldiers. You, by comparison, were completely swallowed alive by the fabric.

The thick waistband of the sweatpants had to be rolled over three full times just to keep them from sliding completely off your hips, and even then, the heavy fleece cuffs pooled comically around your bare ankles. You pulled the black short sleeved t-shirt over your head, and the shoulder seams dropped halfway down your biceps, the hem hanging so low it reached nearly to your knees. You pushed the massive sleeves up your arms, took a breath, and slid the door open.

Fox was standing by the desk, adjusting the volume on the scavenged holoscreen. The moment the refresher door hissed open, his eyes snapped over to you.

He froze entirely. His gaze slowly tracked from the comically rolled up waistband down to the pooled fabric at your feet, then back up to the way the oversized collar shifted loosely against your bare collarbone.

A silence stretched across the room. Then, a deep, rumbling chuckle started at the base of Fox's chest.

"This is outstanding," Fox remarked dryly, a genuine grin splitting his face as he shook his head, "Good to know that if the Separatists ever cut off our supply lines to the front, we can use my spare physical training uniform as an emergency shelter for you. You're drowning in that, General."

"Oh, shut up," you whined, throwing your hands up in exasperation, though you couldn't help but laugh as you took a clumsy step forward, nearly tripping over the excess fabric of the left pant leg. You kicked your foot out toward him in mock defiance. "It is incredibly comfortable. And frankly, after three hours of standing like a statue for the Chancellor, I don't care if I look like a deflated balloon. Now, turn on the contraband, Commander. I didn't risk a lecture from the council just to stand here and be roasted by my own officer."

Fox let out another soft huff, the amused glint still lingering in his eyes as he walked over to the narrow cot. He plopped onto one side of the mattress, leaning his back straight against the wall, one leg bent casually up to support his arm.

You happily shuffled over, navigating the massive sweatpants, and plopped down on the opposite side of the cot. The mattress was firm but compared to standing on the cold marble floors of the Senate, it felt like absolute heaven. You pulled your legs up, crossing them securely beneath the massive folds of the gray shirt, using the far side of the durasteel wall to prop yourself up.

Fox picked up a small, heavily modified remote control, pointing it toward the crate near the foot of the bed. "The things I let myself get dragged into," he grumbled, "If anyone checks the power logs and asks why my quarters has a signal that is streaming a civilian broadcast, I'm blaming you."

"No one will check," you shot back smoothly, leaning your head against the wall. "Boot it up, Fox."

Fox paused, the remote control hovering in his hand. He didn't turn toward the screen immediately. Instead, he slowly turned his head to look back at you, his brow raised. 

"Fox?" he questioned, his eyes locking onto yours with amusement, "So we're good to drop titles entirely now?"

You gave him an unbothered, playful tilt of your chin. "I’m hiding in your private quarters, wearing your sweatpants. Titles can take a break."

 "Fair enough."

With a quick tap of his thumb, the holoscreen hummed to life. His quarters were instantly flooded with light, casting vibrant shadows across the cold durasteel walls.

Within two minutes, the sheer, unadulterated chaos of civilian entertainment exploded into the room. The show’s premise was laid out by a wildly enthusiastic Twi'lek host with entirely too white teeth and an obnoxiously shimmering vest. A group of young, incredibly glamorous civilians had been moved into a luxury estate on a tropical resort world, entirely unaware that the new batch of contestants entering the house to date them were, in fact, their own fathers.

Fox's expression went from mild curiosity to absolute, unfiltered horror in a matter of frames.

His jaw visibly tightened as a young human woman on screen began sobbing hysterically into a silk couch because her father had just entered the main lounge wearing nothing but golden swim bottoms and immediately tried to flirt with the woman she befriended moments ago.

"What? What is this?" Fox asked as if he were trying to analyze a crime scene that made absolutely no logical sense. His brow furrowed so hard the scar near his hairline twisted. "Why is she weeping? Why is the man in the gold short talking directly to the recording droids about his 'emotional journey'? Is this some form of psychological warfare?"

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing brightly in the cramped room as you watched his face. "No, Fox! It’s a reality show. It’s entertainment. Look at his face! He genuinely thinks he’s the most attractive man in the Core."

"He looks like an insecure man with zero emotional discipline," Fox groaned, his eyes wide with a mixture of disgust and profound disbelief as the screen cut to a commercial for luxury speeders. He turned his head to look at you, “The civilian sector is completely untethered. If my men conducted themselves with this level of public instability, the Coruscant underworld would have dismantled the Guard in a standard week. Who watches this? Why would you want to watch this?"

"Because my life is filled with war, political corruption, and tragedy, Fox," you said softly, shifting slightly against the wall, your voice relaxing into the quiet space between you, "Watching entirely inconsequential people cry over entirely inconsequential problems is the only time my brain actually turns off. It's pure, beautiful, garbage, and I will defend it to the death as elite entertainment."

On screen, the dramatic music swelled as two contestants began a screaming match over who got the larger bedroom, but Fox wasn’t looking at the screen anymore.

He was still staring at you, his head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowed in deep thought.

"I still don't buy it," he mused. He shifted his weight on his side of the cot, resting his forearm on his raised knee. "There's got to be a psychological angle here. I bet you only like this garbage because it represents everything the Jedi Order doesn’t stand for."

You turned your head away from the screen, an amused smile playing on your lips. "And what exactly do you think is everything the Jedi Order doesn’t stand for?"

Fox gestured vaguely toward the screen with the remote control held loosely in his hand. "The whole premise of this show. It’s entirely centered on relationships, romance and sex. Those are the big no no’s, right? This is your way of experiencing all of that, but through civilians who don't have a code to follow." He leaned back slightly, a look of absolute certainty on his face. "It's all about relationships and sex. That's what you guys can't have, right?"

You let out a soft snort, leaning your head back against the wall. You looked at him, your expression entirely flat, completely devoid of the solemnity clones usually expected when their generals were discussing the Jedi Code.

"Relationships, no. Sex and romance? Yeah, we can."

Fox froze. The remote control dropped from his hand. For a second, his brain seemed to physically stutter, as his mind was trying to process a sentence that completely shattered everything he had been led to believe about the Jedi.

"What?" he asked, his voice dropping into a flat, stunned register. He blinked, shaking his head as if trying to clear a bad comms signal, "No really, what?"

"We are forbidden from forming attachments, Fox," you explained calmly, shifting comfortably within the massive, enveloping folds of his clothes. "We can't have possessive love, we can't get married, and we can't allow our personal feelings for another individual to dictate our actions or cloud our judgment. That leads to jealousy, fear of loss, and attachment. But the physical act itself? The Order doesn't forbid it."

Fox stared at you, his jaw tightening. To a man who had been bred, raised, and trained under strict, unyielding military protocols where every single action had a regulation attached to it, this loophole sounded completely lawless.

"How does that even work?" Fox questioned. He looked genuinely baffled as his hand dropped to his knee. "How do you just do that? How can anyone separate a physical act like that from emotional attachment? It's an intimate connection between two people. You can't just switch your brain off from attachment, right?"

You couldn't help but laugh at the sheer, intense gravity of his confusion. You gave him a playful, teasing look, tilting your head. "Oh, Fox. Look at you. You're a total romantic, aren't you?"

A dark, red flush crept up the back of Fox's neck, though he stubbornly refused to look away, his gaze locked onto yours with fierce curiosity. “I’m just trying to make sense of this.”

"It's strictly one night stands," you admitted, your tone softening as you laid out the cold reality of Jedi intimacy. You looked past him for a moment, watching the lights of the holoscreen dance across the ceiling. "It’s simple. You see someone once, and you go into it knowing that if they vanished from the galaxy tomorrow, you wouldn't care. There are no names exchanged, no second meetings, no comm frequencies traded. It begins and ends in that room."

You paused, letting out a small, quiet sigh that felt heavy in the narrow space between you. "I admit, it’s unfortunate. But it’s a necessary boundary to avoid attachment. It ensures that my path through the Force remains clear and untainted by the threat of loss. We take what we need for physical release, and then we walk away as strangers."

Fox didn't answer right away. He absorbed your words, his eyes tracking the subtle shift in your expression. The quiet in the room stretched out, entirely detached from the dramatic chaos playing out on the scavenged screen across from you.

Fox cleared his throat. He changed his position on the cot, leaning forward slightly, his chest tightening as he gathered a level of courage he rarely needed on the battlefield.

"Alright," he exhaled, prefacing his next line with a sharp, heavy breath that signaled he was stepping into dangerous territory, "This is the big one."

You raised a brow, thoroughly intrigued by his sudden intensity. "The big one?"

Fox swallowed, his eyes darting to the floor for a fraction of a second before snapping right back to yours, "So, is it any good?"

A wicked, delighted smirk broke across your face. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, entirely unwilling to let him off the hook that easily, "Is what any good, Fox?"

Fox's jaw clenched, his shoulders squaring as if he were facing down a firing squad. "The sex," he said, the word coming out clipped, professional, and entirely forced, "Is it any good?"

You hummed, leaning back against the wall again, throwing a casual, nonchalant shrug into your shoulders. "It’s fine. It’s not all it’s hyped up to be, honestly."

Fox completely short circuited.

He didn't just look surprised - he looked visibly, utterly stunned. He sat perfectly still on his side of the mattress, his eyes wide as your nonchalant review fully registered in his brain. He had sat through this entire conversation fully assuming that you were speaking purely from a theoretical standpoint. He had expected you to say you didn't know because you had never tried it.

But with your casual tone and your effortless dismissal of it all, it pretty much confirmed, without a shadow of a doubt, that you had. You had actually done it. With someone else. Someone nameless.

"Oh," Fox managed, the word coming out hollow.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Fox's gaze hardened, a strange, sharp tension suddenly flaring in his jaw. He placed his hand on his knee and squeezed, his knuckles turning white as he questioned the reality spinning out in front of him.

"You've actually done that?" he asked, "You've actually just gone out and found a stranger for the night?"

Fox sat perfectly still, his jaw locked so tightly that the small muscle near his temple twitched. The hollow, strained edge in his voice hung in the air between you, a tangible marker of the boundary he had just crossed by asking a question so raw and so entirely divorced from military protocol.

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his reaction. The defensive, almost possessive sharpness in his dark eyes was entirely unexpected. To you, discussing the cold realities of the Jedi Code was as natural as discussing standard supply routes or hyperspace coordinates. But looking at Fox now, you realized his engineered, structured mind was fighting to process something that felt inherently lawless.

A sudden, lighthearted thought broke through your confusion. You leaned forward, resting your elbows casually on your knees, allowing the hem of his black t-shirt to sag loosely against your collarbone.

"You know, Fox," you began, letting out a soft, incredulous gasp as you tilted your head to look up at him, "You’re sitting here looking at me like I’ve committed a crime. What exactly is stopping you from getting that kind of experience? Clones are technically allowed to. The Republic doesn't mandate celibacy for the Grand Army. We all know what the shinies are up to at 79’s when they are on shore leave. Rex in the 501st even told me one of his men found a long term girlfriend there."

Fox didn't blink. He stubbornly refused to break eye contact, though the blush that crept up his neck seemed to burn just a fraction more. His shoulders squared instinctively, a hard, protective instinct kicking in as he tried to save face, desperately scrambling to composure back over himself.

"My role doesn't exactly leave a lot of room for wandering around over there. Besides, when I do, you typically tag along and have never played wing-general for me," he joked, though his voice was in a defensive mumble. He cleared his throat, looking toward the far corner of the ceiling for a split second before forcing his gaze back to yours. "And frankly, if nameless encounters are as entirely mediocre as you claim they are, I don't mind waiting. I’ll wait for the right person."

His words were spoken with a stubborn conviction that made you pause. The teasing remark that had been forming on your tongue completely died away.

You stopped Fox in his tracks, your entire demeanor shifting from playful amusement to a deep, unyielding seriousness. You looked at the scars on his arms, then up to his hair.  Your eyes dragged along the thin scar cutting into his hairline and down to the heavy exhaustion etched permanently under his eyes.

"The only reason it’s mediocre for a Jedi is because there is no passion allowed. There is no emotion, no vulnerability, no warmth. We purposefully drain the act of everything that makes it human so we can walk away without feeling anything."

You leaned back against the cold durasteel wall, pulling your knees up closer to your chest, your hands wrapping around your legs, "It’s admirable that you’re holding out for the right person, Fox."

You turned your head to look at him, "Consider that a luxury you have. Once the war is over, you are a man with his own heart and his own destiny, you have the right to give yourself completely to another person. You have the right to feel that emotional intimacy where two people become entirely intertwined. You have the freedom to experience love in its purest, most passionate form."

Your voice cracked slightly, "But a Jedi will never know that. The Code ensures that we are permanently barred from that kind of intimacy. The freedom to love someone and to wait for the right person and give them everything you are; that is a beautiful, precious thing. Don't dismiss it just because my version of it is hollow."

Fox sat entirely paralyzed on his side of the cot. He never heard you speak with such unshielded vulnerability. To hear you call his capacity for love a luxury, especially to hear the quiet grief in your voice, tore an invisible tear through his heart.

"Look at them," you huffed, trying to inject a bit of your humor back into the room as the Twi'lek host began explaining the romantic drama. "This is a prime example of what I'm talking about. They can swap partners by the next broadcast cycle and they won't suffer a crisis of identity. It's the perfect model of detachment."

"Alright," he mused, "Let's say I accept the logic. If there's no emotion allowed, how does a Jedi even select someone? How do you choose a person to do that with? What's the criteria?"

You let out a genuine laugh this time. "Oh, it's incredibly scientific," you joked, throwing a wide, playful grin his way. "You don't overthink it. You just go into a cantina, look around, and pick the closest, tall, handsome guy who doesn't look like a total loser, but gives off massive 'one night stand' vibes. You look at them, they look at you, you reach an unspoken agreement, and that's it. It's safe. It's predictable."

You expected him to huff, or to make another dry, sarcastic comment about civilian lack of morals.

Instead, Fox completely slipped up.

"The woman I'm attracted to - hypothetically - I'm going to be attached to," Fox hesitated, for a moment. He stared at you, "I wouldn't want the idea of her with anyone else even scratching my mind. The thought of some random lowlife, some cantina stranger even looking at her like that."

You froze, the smile completely vanishing from your face as you stared back at him. The sheer, untamed ferocity in his voice was startling. You had seen Commander Fox face down angry anti-war mobs, corrupt politicians, and syndicates without ever losing his cool, but right now, he looked entirely ready to tear the galaxy apart with his bare hands over a purely hypothetical scenario.

"And that, Fox, is exactly why we look for guys who don't think like you.” Your voice carried a gentle but firm warning, "A man who loves with that kind of intense, protective possessiveness would get entirely destroyed by a Jedi. If a Jedi took someone like you to a room for a night and then walked away the next morning without ever looking back, it would break you. That's why random civilians are the only safe option. They don't care, so we don't have to care either."

The words were meant to be an explanation and a gentle reminder of why the boundaries existed. But inside Fox’s mind, the truth was an agonizing reality.

He sat there, staring at you, realizing the absolute, bitter irony of his entire existence. He was a perfect fit for every single piece of your physical description. He was the closest man to you, he was tall, he was undeniably attracted to you, and he knew damn well he wasn't a loser. He was right here. He was the safest harbor you had in the entire galaxy.

But because he actually cared, because he harbored a deep devotion to you that went far beyond military duty, he was permanently disqualified. A random, nameless scumbag in a dirty cantina was a safer choice for you than the man who spent every single day at your side. The fact that his attachment to you was the very thing that made him toxic to your Jedi way of life made him want to scream.

"Fox?" you asked softly, leaning slightly closer across the space between you, your eyes searching his face with genuine concern, “I can feel it. You’re angry."

Fox closed his eyes. He took a slow, deep breath, "It’s not that.”

He offered you a small, sad, and entirely heartbreaking half smile, "I'm not angry. I guess it just upsets me to think that out of everyone in this miserable galaxy, the person who deserves that kind of real, passionate love the most isn't even allowed to have it. It’s a shame, that’s all."

"Thank you, Fox," you said softly. You looked at the tired, dark lines beneath his eyes, giving him a gentle look. "But you know, you deserve that kind of love just as much as anyone else in this galaxy. Probably more than most."

Fox didn't answer. He simply gave a slight, microscopic nod.

You shifted your weight on the narrow mattress, stretching your legs out across the length of the cot. Without overthinking it, you casually rested your lower legs and feet right across Fox's lap. 

Fox didn't move away. He didn't tense up, either. He simply let his hands rest on your legs, his thumb tracing a slow, subconscious circle against your shin, entirely accepting the casual intimacy of the gesture. He looked down at your feet in his lap, then cut his eyes over to the holoscreen where one of the girls was currently throwing a tropical drink into a dad’s face.

"This show is absolute garbage," Fox grumbled, "If you're that desperate for a distraction that we are watching this, let’s head down to the lower levels. I’ll personally escort you to the nearest cantina and help you scan the room for a tall, handsome stranger who fits your criteria. I'll even check his security clearance for you."

You slowly lifted your right leg and playfully nudged his forearm with your foot to get his attention. You tilted your head against the wall, a dangerously amused smile breaking across your face.

"Nah," you shrugged, "I’ve got one right here I can just look at."

Fox completely froze.

The circle his thumb had been tracing against your leg stopped dead. Slowly, almost painfully, he forced his neck to turn, his head pivoting until his intense, bewildered gaze locked back onto your face.

"Right here?" Fox questioned, "Are you telling me that I physically make the cut for one of your one night stands, but I don’t make the final cut for the list because I’m me?"

He expected you to laugh. He expected you to kick his arm again and call him an idiot.

Instead, the humor entirely faded from your face.

Your expression went serious. You looked at him, your gaze holding his with an intensity that made the smirk die instantly on his lips. The playful, teasing atmosphere evaporated.

"Fox," you said just barely over a whisper, "Trust me. You never want to be on that list."

Fox blinked, his brow furrowing, "Why not?"

"Because I don't even remember those men's names," you confessed bluntly, looking dead into his eyes. There was no shame in your voice, only the cold reality of the Code you lived by. "I can't picture their faces. If I passed them in a hangar or a corridor tomorrow, I wouldn't even recognize them. When I was with them, I felt pure apathy. They were a nameless, fleeting hookup meant to be forgotten. That is all they ever were, and that is all they were ever allowed to mean to me."

You paused, leaning forward, your knees brushing against his thighs, "If I woke up tomorrow and you were gone, I would be upset for quite some time. I would miss you terribly. I would miss your humor, your complaints, and the way you always know exactly when I need to escape. I care about you."

Fox's breath caught in his throat, his chest rising as your words sliced through his last defenses.

"If I put you on that list," you explained, "it would mean I’d have to force myself to feel that apathy toward you. It would mean going into a room with you knowing that if you vanished from the galaxy the next day, I wouldn't care. And the truth is, Fox; I care far too much to ever do that to you."

He caught the beautiful, terrifying paradox immediately.

"Hold on," Fox paused, his voice dropping as he leaned in just a fraction closer, his eyes searching yours, "That kind of sounds exactly like the way you were describing what attachment is earlier."

A small, helpless, and incredibly soft smile broke across your face. You didn't look away. Instead, you looked at the man whose clothes you were wearing, whose lap your legs were resting in, and you gave him the ultimate, honest confession.

"That's why I'm sitting on the other side of your cot, Fox," you hummed.

"Well," he murmured with his familiar irony, "good to know that legendary Jedi self-restraint is actually functioning for something. I'd hate to think all that meditation was going to waste."

You let out a soft breath that was half laugh, half sigh. The casual warmth of your legs resting across his lap felt dangerously comfortable. But the sheer honesty of what you had just admitted, that you cared too much to ever reduce him to a nameless face, still lingered in the air

"If you keep looking at me like that, maybe you and I are just going to have to take a little trip to the nicer cantinas tonight. I'll help you find someone absolutely perfect for the night. Someone who is just right for you."

The reaction was instantaneous, and it wasn't the amused banter you had been angling for.

"No, no, no, no," Fox shut it down aggressively. His entire posture locked up, his hands tightening around your legs as he shook his head, "Absolutely not."

You blinked, surprised by the hostility of his rejection, "Fox, it was just a-"

"I know," he interrupted, doubling down. He leaned closer to you, his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line, "If random, nameless encounters are as entirely bland and hollow as you say they are, then,” he paused, “I want the real thing, or I want nothing."

You stared at him, completely captivated by his romanticism. For a clone bred in a laboratory, his view on intimacy was staggering in its purity.

You tilted your head, “How do you plan on identifying a feeling that complex?"

Fox didn't answer immediately. A sudden, quiet stillness washed over his face. A very small, private smile touched the corner of his mouth. It looked so soft, it completely transformed him.

"I know," he said simply.

The words slipped out before he could catch them. He froze for a second, his eyes widening slightly as he realized exactly what he had exposed. He rushed to correct it, "I mean- I'll know. When it happens. I'll know."

But the slip had already done its work. He kept his eyes fixed on the holoscreen, his heart thudding a slow, heavy rhythm against his ribs. He had been keeping his feelings hidden for months, burying them beneath piles of datapads, late night security logs, and inventory records. The man was completely, deeply, and hopelessly in love with his General. He loved the brilliant, chaotic light you brought into his world. He loved the sound of your laughter in his quiet quarters. He loved the very fabric of your being. And keeping that truth locked away was becoming harder with every passing second.

You, however, had caught the slip, and your curiosity was instantly piqued. You pried at the sudden vulnerability, leaning closer across the gap of the cot.

"Fox.” You reached out, nudging his forearm with your foot again, demanding his attention, "Don't you dare try to 'I'll know' your way out of this."

Fox kept his head turned away, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Oh, bantha shit," you laughed, "There absolutely is someone in mind. Because if there wasn't, Fox, you'd just deny it. If you know you’re in love then what are you waiting for?"

Fox let out a long, ragged sigh that seemed to drag itself from the very depths of his soul. "I don't even know what I'm waiting for," he admitted in a defeated whisper. He looked down at  your legs over his lap, "Even if I tried, it won't happen."

"Hey," you said, your humor instantly softening into a gentle, optimistic pep talk. You hated the absolute defeat in his tone. You couldn't understand why a man like him would ever count himself out. "Don't talk like that. You don't know until you try, Fox. You face down impossible odds every day. Whoever she is, you just have to take the leap."

Fox huffed out a bitter, hollow half laugh,"I do know. She's the only person in the galaxy I can't have."

The words were a direct, screaming confession, but your mind remained completely blind to it. You wouldn’t even think of the idea that you were the center of his universe. You scoffed, throwing your hands up in a dismissive gesture as you rolled your eyes.

"Oh please," you exaggerated, entirely missing the mark as you rained compliments on him, "You know damn well you could get whoever you want, Fox. Look at you. You are incredible. You run the entire security of this planet without falling apart. You are handsome, you are fiercely dedicated, you are brilliant, and any woman in this galaxy would be damn lucky to have you completely devoted to them. Stop selling yourself short."

Every single word of praise tore through Fox. The compliments, meant to lift his spirits, actively hurt him. Hearing the person he loved list every single reason why he was desirable, while remaining utterly blind to the fact that his heart belonged entirely to them, was a form of torture the Republic wouldn’t dare use on even its worst prisoners.

"Do you truly believe that?" Fox asked.

“I would never lie to you. You know that."

Fox looked away. The last line of hope inside his chest completely collapsed, leaving him entirely crushed. He stared at the far corner of the room, his face hardening into a mask of pure sorrow.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice almost cracking, "Then it really is unfortunate."

The words echoed in the small space, bouncing off the walls. You sat perfectly frozen on your side of the cot, your mind racing backward through the entire conversation at lightspeed. 

I'm waiting for the right person... 

The woman I'm attracted to, I'm going to be attached to... 

She's the only person in the galaxy I can't have... 

That's why I'm sitting on the other side of your cot…

The pieces finally clicked.

A sudden wave of realization crashed over you, leaving you entirely breathless. Your heart gave a massive, frantic thud against your ribs as your face dropped in shock. The blindness vanished in an instant, leaving truth exposed between you. It wasn't a civilian. It wasn't a senator's aide.

It was you. It had always been you.

"Fox," you softly whispered his name, the syllable barely carrying enough air to escape your lips.

He immediately locked down. Sensing the exact moment the realization hit you, his survival instincts kicked in with a vengeance. He completely shut his emotional vault, his face turning into an expressionless stone wall as he snapped his gaze upward. He stared fixedly at the ceiling, his eyes wide and unblinking as he deliberately avoided eye contact at all costs. His chest rose and fell. His breath came in strained, shallow gasps as he tried to pretend he hadn't just destroyed the only boundary he had left.

"Fox," you repeated, your voice stronger this time, filled with a sudden, fierce determination.

He didn't move. He kept staring at the ceiling as if his life depended on it.

Completely obliterating the physical boundary that had kept you safe on the other side of the cot, you crawled forward. You dragged your legs out of his lap, bending your knees as you slid across the mattress, closing the distance between your bodies until your chest was only inches from his. 

You reached up, your hands entirely steady despite the frantic racing of your heart. You placed your fingers gently along the rough, scarred line of his jaw, your thumb resting against his cheekbone. The heat of his skin burned against your palms.

Gently, you guided his face down, forcing his head to turn. He still tried to look away, his eyes darting desperately toward the far wall, his teeth grinding together as he fought the pull of your hand.

You dropped your voice to a soft, incredibly intimate whisper, the sound vibrating directly against his skin.

"Hey."

The word was a command, a plea, and a promise all at once.

Fox's resistance completely broke. He finally, slowly, turned his eyes straight into yours. The depth of his devotion was entirely exposed, a quiet storm of love and terror swirling in his gaze as he looked at you from inches away, entirely at your mercy.

A breath shuddered out of him. The most fiercely guarded secret of Clone Commander Fox was laid out between you. 

"You're right, Fox," you whispered, "I already failed in the attachment department. Because no matter what happens today or tomorrow, you will always mean something to me. You already do."

His hands came up, not to push you away, but to grasp your wrists where they held his face, as if your touch was the only thing tethering him to reality. His grip was tight, almost painful. Slowly, he leaned his face closer, his nose brushing against yours as his voice dropped.

"Please," Fox pleaded, "I know you forget those nights and the people you shared that with. But please, promise me you won’t forget this."

You began to breathe out, a soft, sweet response. A promise to never let him fade into the dark, but the words vanished entirely, swallowed whole as he leaned in and placed his lips on yours. There was no desperate collision. His kiss was claiming, deliberate and deep like slow, soul searching exploration that poured every ounce of his confessed devotion into you. His hands released your wrists to cradle your face, his touch tender, his thumbs tracing the arches of your cheekbones. 

You melted into him, your own hands sliding up his chest, feeling the powerful, rapid beat of his heart through the soft fabric. You kissed him back with equal measure, pouring your own truth into it. It was your want, your certainty, your love, a word the Code forbade but your soul screamed nonetheless.

The kiss deepened, and grew hungrier. His tongue swept against yours, a slow, intimate dance. One of his hands slid from your face, down your neck, over your shoulder, coming to rest on your hip, his fingers pressing into the muscle there, possessive and grounding.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw and down your neck. You tipped your head back with a soft sigh, your fingers tangling in the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. He found the base of your throat and sucked gently, drawing a low moan from you. The sound seemed to galvanize him. His hands moved to the hem of your - his - t-shirt.

He paused, “May I?”

The uncertainty in his voice melted you. 

You pressed your lips to his ear, "Of course.”

That single fragment of permission was all it took to collapse the final wall of his hesitation. Fox’s hands slid beneath the hem of the shirt, his touch sending a shiver straight up your spine as his palms dragged upward. He was incredibly gentle, yet entirely checking for any sign of hesitation as he lifted the shirt over your head and cast it away into the darkness of the small quarters.

The cool air of his quarters kissed your skin. You sat before him in just his sweatpants, and you had never felt more seen. You reached for him, pulling his own shirt up. He helped you, his muscles shifting under your palms as you pulled the shirt over his head. His chest was a map of his service. There were pale scars from shrapnel, a deeper one from an explosion, but above that was the powerful build of a man who carried himself through war.

Fox reached back out to you, wrapping his hands around your back and pulling you closer until his lips were almost brushing yours. But he paused, blinking a few times and pulling his head back. 

“I- What if-” he began, but he couldn’t finish. The fear was too large. The fear of being inadequate, of being a disappointment, of giving you the most sacred thing he possessed only to have it filed away as a forgettable experience. The fear that his inexperience would mean he couldn’t give you what others had, that he’d fail you in the one moment he wanted, more than anything, to be perfect.

You rested your forehead on his, sensing his fears, “I don’t need this to be perfect. I need this to be you.”

He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The answer to his fear was in the steady, sure pressure of his hands on your shoulders, a gentle but undeniable force that guided you backwards until the mattress met your back. You went willingly, your eyes never leaving his. The world narrowed to the space between your bodies.

He followed you down, bracing himself on his forearms, caging you in. t across your chest with each breath. His gaze traced the line of it, then lifted back to your face. He leaned in, slowly, his lips finding yours in a kiss. It was deep, unhurried, and profoundly quiet. A communication more intimate than words. His tongue swept against yours, a slow, claiming dance that tasted of shared breath and absolute trust. You could feel the slight tremor in his muscles, not from fear now, but from the intensity of his focus, the sheer magnitude of the moment.

He lowered himself, the heat of his bare skin meeting yours from chest to thigh. The sensation was so profoundly right it drew a soft, shuddering sigh from you both. He buried his face in the curve of your neck for a moment, breathing you in, his lips pressed to your collarbone. Then he lifted his head, his eyes finding yours again. In their depths, you saw a universe of feeling - awe, devotion, a tender, fierce protectiveness that stole the air from your lungs.

His hand slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweatpants and the soft cotton beneath. He paused, a silent question in his raised brow. You answered by lifting your hips. He drew the garments down your legs with a reverence that was never taught on Kamino. When you were bare to him, he simply looked, his gaze a slow, worshipful journey that made you feel not exposed, but seen. Truly, completely seen.

You returned the favor, your hands going to the waistband of his own pants. He helped you, shifting his weight, and soon the last barrier was gone, kicked to the foot of the cot. The reality of him, fully aroused and achingly ready, was a potent truth between you. The sight sent a fresh, liquid rush of heat through your core.

He settled back over you, and this time, the full weight of him pressed you into the mattress. The feel of him, skin to skin, from the hard planes of his chest to his legs against yours, it was an overwhelming, perfect intimacy. He kissed you again, as he positioned himself at your entrance. The broad, blunt head of him nudged against your sensitive folds, already slick and ready for him.

He stilled, breaking the kiss to look down between your bodies, watching. His expression was one of rapt, almost painful concentration. Then his eyes, dark and blazing with emotion, lifted back to yours. He held your gaze, a silent promise passing between you. This was it. No going back.

With a slow, inexorable press of his hips, he entered you.

It was a feeling beyond description. A stretch of initial resistance that melted instantly into a consuming, perfect fullness. He filled you completely, a joining so deep it felt less like penetration and more like two separate halves fusing into one whole. A low groan escaped his throat. It sounded like a mix of profound pleasure and overwhelming emotion. You cried out softly, your nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even deeper, to take all of him.

He held there, buried into you, his entire body trembling with the effort of remaining still. His forehead dropped to yours, his breath coming in ragged, hot gusts against your lips. You could feel him, every throbbing inch of him, inside you. You could feel the frantic beat of his heart where your chests were pressed together. The connection was absolute, a circuit of sensation and emotion that left no room for thought.

Then, he began to move.

It was not a frantic pace. It was a slow, deep, rolling rhythm that seemed to originate from the very core of him. He moved with a natural, instinctive grace, his hips finding a cadence that worked perfectly. There were no words. The only sounds were the soft, wet sounds of him thrusting against you, the syncopated rhythm of your mingled breathing, the occasional, gasp or groan that was more feeling than sound.

Your eyes remained locked. In his gaze, you saw only Fox giving himself over to this experience with a trust that was humbling. You watched as pleasure consumed his face; the tightening of his jaw, the flutter of his eyelids, the parting of his lips on a silent moan. He watched you, seeing every flicker of ecstasy that his movements wrought within you, his own eyes darkening with a possessive, tender joy.

The coil of pleasure in your belly tightened, a sweet, relentless pressure. You could feel his own control beginning to fray at the edges, his rhythm gaining a subtle, urgent hitch. His thrusts became slightly harder, deeper, each one a deliberate press against that blissful, internal spot that made the galaxy burst behind your eyes.

You clenched around him and his eyes flew wide open, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat. 

“Please,” he managed to let out. 

It was the only word spoken.

The peak, when it arrived, did not crash over you. It rose from the depths of the profound connection and radiated outward, suffusing every limb. Your climax was a silent, shattering expansion, a feeling of pure, radiant light flooding your senses. Your muscles clamped around him in rhythmic pulses, the sensation tearing his own release from him.

He didn’t cry out. A deep, shuddering groan was wrenched from the very depths of his soul as he buried himself into you and held, pulsing inside you. His entire body locked, then convulsed in a series of powerful tremors. You felt the hot, intimate rush of his release, that triggered another, softer wave of pleasure within you.

Through it all, your foreheads remained pressed together. Your eyes, blurred with unshed tears of overwhelming feeling, stayed open, locked on his. You witnessed the exact moment of his surrender, saw the awe and the disbelief that washed over him. He saw the same in you.

For a long, timeless moment, there was only that point of contact and the emotion of a moment that was about far more than physical release.

Gradually, the tremors subsided. His breathing began to slow. He didn’t collapse. He softened, his weight settling more fully upon you, but he kept his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes still holding yours. A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, tracing a slow path through the stubble on his temple. You didn’t brush it away. It was a sacred part of this.

He had not lost his virginity through sex. He never wanted to. He wanted to by making love. And he did. 

After a long moment, he shifted his weight completely off of you, rolling to the side just enough to pull you flush against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you like the whole army would be needed to try and tear you away from him. 

You rested your head over his chest, your fingers mindlessly tracing scars on the edge of his shoulder. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth, finally understanding the truth your Master spent your lifetime trying to protect you from. 

The one night stands weren’t intimacy at all. They never were. They were just the Jedi’s fabrication of what they believed intimacy should be. 

This is what it was actually supposed to feel like. It was supposed to leave you breathless, but not from sex, but from the sheer magnitude of caring about someone so much it hurt. 

You let out a soft sigh and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss against his chest. You spent your whole life following a Code that was designed to keep you from all of this. But lying there, wrapped in Fox’s arms, you knew there could be no darkness in this. You both were merely experiencing what love was supposed to be, with the person it was supposed to be experienced with.