#adiduck

“My pleasure,” Obi-Wan said, smiling easily and shaking everyone’s hands before softly touching the small of Cody’s back and saying in a low voice, “There’s Agen. I’ll be right back.” Cody simply nodded, aware of Obi-Wan moving off to finish the handover while his brothers crowded closer.

“So that’s Obi-Wan, huh?” Rex said, staring over Cody’s shoulder, eyebrow raised. “I mean, he’s not bad looking but—.”

“We heard you have a massive crush on him,” Fives put in helpfully. “Rexy said you couldn’t even focus on simple convos because you were busy drooling over this guy. Wolffe and Fox are both pissed that they have to work and can’t see the dude.” 

Cody shot Rex an unimpressed look. “Fuck sake,” he muttered, shouldering his bag and heading for his car. His brothers followed.

Rex grinned, “Well? How’s that crush coming along?”

“We’re well past that,” Cody said drily, unlocking his truck and tossing the bag inside. That brought all three of his brothers up short.

“What do you mean, well past that?” Echo asked.

“Exactly what I said,” Cody replied, smirking. “I hope you guys weren’t planning to follow me home, I have plans.”

Rex’s eyebrows climbed higher, “Plans? Yeah, mom and dad are expecting you for dinner, you didn’t forget about that, did you? Family cookout and all?”

Cody froze. He had forgotten. Fuck.

He shot a look over at Obi-Wan, now at his bike, stowing away his things in the saddlebags. He looked up and caught Cody’s gaze, mouth quirking to grin before sauntering back toward them, helmet tucked under his arm. “Give me a sec,” Cody said and set off to meet him, ignoring his brothers’ snickering.

#

Cody had hoped for Obi-Wan to follow Cody to his place and then spend a nice evening there. Maybe get some take-out, watch a movie and, ideally, get Obi-Wan spread out in his bed. He felt all prickly along his shoulders as he explained the situation, very aware of Rex, Fives, and Echo lingering by his car, watching.

“Are you really sure? We can put off our evening in until tomorrow, if you prefer,” Obi-Wan said, a small furrow between his brows, after Cody suggested he come along. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You won’t be,” Cody replied. “I want to spend the evening with you and, honestly, I think if I don’t bring you along my siblings might murder me. Seems like Rex has been talking us up.”

Obi-Wan laughed softly. “Well,” he said, eyes glinting with humor, “I don’t want to be responsible for fratricide and I am rather fond of you, so I guess I’ll come along.”

“Fucker,” Cody grumbled goodnaturedly. “I’ll pick you up at five? Or do you want to freshen up at mine?”

“We’ll be late if we do that,” Obi-Wan pointed out, grinning slightly, which was probably true. “Five sounds good,” he continued, brushing a kiss to his lips—Cody ignored the wolf whistles from behind—, and then waved at the others before walking back to his bike, putting his helmet on on the way. Cody took another moment to watch him swing himself on the bike and drive off before going back to deal with his brothers.

#

They were, unsurprisingly, the last ones to pull up in front of the house. It wasn’t large, really, considering how many of them there were; perhaps even smaller than the house Obi-Wan had grown up in. Nowadays it had a lot of empty rooms with only his parents and the youngest set of twins living there, except when Gregor was home on leave.

The front door opened and Cody’s mother stepped onto the porch, pressing a kiss to his forehead and enveloping him in a hug the moment he reached the top of the steps. “I’m glad you’re home safe again,” she said, ignoring his protests that there was nothing to worry about, and turned her attention to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, Cody noted, had his most charming smile on his face as he stretched out a hand in greeting, the salad he’d quickly thrown together while waiting for Cody to pick him up tucked under his other arm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Obi-Wan.”

She shot an amused glance at Cody, taking the proffered hand and pulling Obi-Wan into a light embrace before ushering them through the door. “Hello, Obi-Wan. Please, just Lori is fine. Come in, both of you. Everybody else is in the backyard already.”

“Of course, Lori. I hope this is okay?” Obi-Wan asked, holding out the covered salad bowl. “It’s just a simple Greek salad.”

Her eyebrows climbed a little higher and she turned to Cody, “You guys’ve been in town for just under two hours after being gone for two months and he took the time to go to the store and make something to bring along? Where’s yours?”

Cody pointed at Obi-Wan. “I brought him.”

Obi-Wan blushed, “And I live right over a greengrocer’s, it was no trouble, really.”

#

There were some whistles and whooping from his brothers—Cody had expected that much—but after the first moment of embarrassment Obi-Wan just…fit right in, answering the barrage of questions about his family and how he got into storm chasing and whatever else they could think of with natural ease.

“Hey Obi-Wan,” Fives said eventually, pushing back his empty plate, and a prickle of premonition sliding down Cody’s back at his tone. “We’ve heard you have a pretty wicked tattoo. Can we see it?”

“I have several, actually, but I can only show one without risking indecent exposure,” Obi-Wan replied, winking at Cody as he stood up, reaching for the back of his shirt and pulling it off without hesitation. And, Cody thought, eyes lingering on the line of his shoulders and fighting down the urge to press kisses along it—he could do that later—, he really shouldn’t have been surprised by that.

They ended up at the park, eventually, as was quite usual. Cody knew they wouldn’t stay in the yard long, they never did on evenings like this. it was simply too small. Once most of the food had been eaten they always tended to make their way across the street to the park with a bag full of equipment and a cooler with drinks, arguing what to play, which turned out to be volleyball this time, per Omega’s request. She was also very quick at securing Obi-Wan on her team and seeming rather smug about it, which Cody found slightly puzzling up until the moment when Obi-Wan served an ace, movements precise and sure.

“Did you used to play?” Cody called across the field after a few more well-placed kills because he was on the opposing team for this set and Obi-Wan’s motions were far too practiced for casual play.

“I might have,” Obi-Wan answered, grinning, causing a delighted whoop from Boba, Gregor, and Echo, whom Omega had also grabbed for her team.

“You can have him again later!” she yelled, bouncing up and down on her heels, and fuck, he planned to. “We’ll trade next set.”

#

They spilled back into the house after a few more games, night falling around them. Obi-Wan slung his arm across Cody’s shoulders as they walked back, trailing a few steps beyond the rest, eyes bright and breath going faster from the exertion. He took a deep swallow from the water bottle Fox had handed him and said, stifling a yawn, “This was a fun evening. Your family is very kind.”

Cody nodded. “Mostly, yeah.” He slowed to a stop, casting a glance at the house, and tugged Obi-Wan close for a kiss. “I don’t know about you, babe, but I’m ready to get out of here soon, though, fun or not. I even have a working shower at my place.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan went, amusement tinging his voice, “Well, if you have a working shower we should probably make use of it.”

“We should,” Cody confirmed, enjoying the feel of firm muscle under Obi-Wan’s shirt. “Together.”

“Absolutely.”

With that they went inside, taking their goodbye not much later and left under the teasing of Cody’s siblings. Somebody—Wolffe, if Cody wasn’t mistaken—called “Don’t break the bed!” after them as the door closed but Cody really couldn’t care less. “Drive safely,” his mother said, pulling him into a quick hug on the porch and then saying goodbye to Obi-Wan.

His parents gave them a final wave before going back inside and Obi-Wan turned to him with a grin after fastening his seat belt, “I believe you promised me a shower with you.”

“Holding at 30%, Captain.”

“Let’s keep it above zero, at least,” Obi-Wan says, trying not to clench his fingers on the armrests of his seat. “Lieutenant Waxer, how’s our comms system holding up?”

“Subspace relays are still online, sir, but not for long. Our transmitter’s over the aft shuttle bay, and—”

“And we’ve already redirected power from aft shields to life support, yes. Very well. I need you to send High Command a data packet with our location and the warp signatures of every ship here, now.”

Waxer’s fingers hesitate over the keyboard. “Sir, if High Command comes in to assist, it might mean full-scale war. We’re in neutral space.”

Obi-Wan’s only concession to being questioned is a slight tightening of the lines at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s not to request assistance, Lieutenant,” he says. “Do as I ask.”

Waxer nods and starts compiling the data without another word. Obi-Wan watches the transmission send, and he lets out a breath of relief when their relay holds just long enough for the data to transmit. The viewport is filled with the red bursts of phaser cannon fire and the weakening blue bursts of what’s left of their shields. His crewmembers are holding their panic in as tightly as they can, pressing shaking fingers to their readouts and touchscreens, and Obi-Wan tries to focus on ten things at once. As he looks back towards the bridge, movement flickers out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re trying to prevent anyone from turning this event into a disinformation campaign,” Cody says, having moved to stand in perfect parade rest by the crook of Obi-Wan’s elbow. He adds, too softly for the rest of the bridge to hear, “You don’t think we’ll make it out.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t dare look away from his readout for more than a second, but he spares that second to give Cody a grin.

“As astute as ever, Commander. Even if I can’t save this ship, I might be able to save our good names, hmm?”

A wry smile, so small that Obi-Wan has to glance back a second time just to confirm its presence, lifts the corner of Cody’s mouth.

“Indeed.”

“Aft phase array offline!” someone shouts, and it’s echoed by more reports of failing systems: port photon torpedo launchers, the port warp nacelle, the RCS thruster quad.

On their viewport, the degraded husk of the ship they had come to save begins to break apart in the cold grip of space and the hot sear of phaser cannons. Bits and pieces of her drift towards the faint pull of distant stars just as the Negotiator jerks with an impact her shields couldn’t stop.

Obi-Wan grits his teeth and stares through their viewport as three warbirds spiral around for another pass at his ship. Ahead of them, the massive O’deridex flagship stays perfectly mockingly still. “I take it warp is gone?”

“Completely offline,” Boil says. “We’ve lost both nacelles and the energy field grips.”

The ship shudders with a staccato series of photon torpedo impacts, thud-thud-thud, and the white lights in the bridge click off. The flash of red emergency strobes flickers across every frantic, worried face for the long second it takes the emergency lights to come on: dim and sickly white. Obi-Wan stands from his chair, his brow furrowed. He wants to stroke his beard, but every person on this bridge knows it’s one of his tells.

Another explosion rocks the ship. He almost stumbles, but then Cody is there, an implacable wall of strength, keeping him steady with a hand in the small of his back.

Obi-Wan takes a deep, grateful breath. Right. “Ok, what do we have? Weapons systems, impulse power, anything, just. What can you give me?”

Around him, the bridge is in disarray. Emergency lighting reflects in screens sending error message after error message; steam and smoke is beginning to fill the bridge as the flush vents fail; and sparks spit from the comms relays snaking their way to their manual control stations.

The battle is all but lost.

From the navigation port, Boil turns, and Obi-Wan sees the same conclusion etched into the worry lines of Boil’s face.

“We’ve got nothing left to give,” Boil says. Frustration wars with pain and loss in his voice. “Sir, I’m sorry—sir. We can’t run, and there’s nothing left to hit them with.”

Obi-Wan presses his lips together, nods, and then says, “Not quite nothing.”

“Sir?”

“Commander, what would it take to bring impulse power back online?”

“We’d have to sacrifice life support for it,” Cody says, but it isn’t a protest. Obi-Wan wonders if Cody has guessed his plan already. He wouldn’t be surprised if so.

They’ve been through worse hells than this together.

“Do it,” Obi-Wan says.

Waxer doesn’t question him before complying, this time; instead, he questions while complying. “Sir, we won’t be able to go far, not on our current power reserves.”

“That’s fine,” Obi-Wan says, inputting their target coordinates into the navigation console himself. “We don’t have far to go.”

The whole bridge crew watches, becoming more conscious and careful of the extent of their breathing, as the Negotiator start lurching, broken and limping, towards the massive flagship just beyond the wreck they failed to save. Every crew member joins Obi-Wan in standing before the viewport, teeth and hands clenched, as they gain speed..

As if in sudden realization, the nacelles on the enemy’s ship light up in preparation for warp, and Obi-Wan’s lip curls in grim satisfaction. It’s too late. There are perhaps five seconds between now and when the Negotiator will crash into the other ship’s bridge, and that isn’t enough time to activate warp drives.

He won’t blink, but he does look away. He watches starlight intermingle with the ship’s warning red glare on the familiar, dear planes of Cody’s face, and he sees the line of Cody’s throat move as he swallows.

“Captain…” Cody says, and then he extends a careful two fingers into the space between them. “Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan touches his own two fingers to Cody’s, and even the flashing red of the ship’s alarms can’t erase the faint tinge of green spreading across Cody’s cheeks and the pointed tips of his ears. Obi-Wan smiles back, eyes creased, and he opens his mouth to reply just as the bow of their ship slams, shudderingly, shiveringly, devastatingly, into the O’deridex’s main hull.

The impact is immediate. An earthquake ruptures the bridge, and the crew collapses to the floor. Oxygen vents into space. Fires erupt and are quenched by the lack of atmosphere.

The light is gone in the world.

And then, the lights come back on.

The crew stagger painfully to their feet. Most of them cast apologetic glances at Obi-Wan as they do, and the rest only stare, lips pressed together in frustration, at their blank screens. Obi-Wan shakes his head; it’s no one’s fault but his.

Obi-Wan accepts Cody’s offer of a hand up with a wink that is more grateful than flirtatious, and he dusts the soot off his uniform as he stands. Cody pulls his hand back quickly as Admiral Windu steps into the simulation center and gives the room an assessing stare before beginning, slowly, to clap.

“Not quite a performance worthy of applause, Mace,” Obi-Wan says, trying not to let his frustration slip through even as he turns to face his old friend.

“On the contrary, Obi-Wan, you did well.”

Mace steps up to the captain’s deck as two medical interns filter in behind him, looking for anything more severe than bruised skin and bruised pride. He’s traded the standard admiralty uniform for something closer to purple than maroon, and, any other time, Obi-Wan would joke about Mace starting a new fashion trend than admit defeat.

But with Cody at his back, with the lingering warmth of Cody’s palm on his, it’s easier to be honest.

“Hardly,” he says. The words are bitter on his tongue. “We lost both the Kobayashi Maru and the Negotiator. Frankly, I’m not sure how it could have gone worse.”

Mace’s answering smile is enigmatic and, unless Obi-Wan misses his guess, more than a little proud. Smoke stops filtering from the vents, and the screens reset to battle-ready. Obi-Wan’s crew move to stand at his back, curious.

“You kept control of your ship and your crew. You kept the political implications of the attack in mind even as you made tactical calls,” Mace says, speaking a little louder for the sake of Obi-Wan’s crew. Then, under his breath, he adds, “And I think you have the highest romulan casualty count of anyone who’s taken the test thus far.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him. “Wait, what?”

Behind him, Cody steps forward until their shoulders form a solid line. The crease between his eyebrows has deepened to a trench.

“The test was designed to be unwinnable,” he concludes, an edge of accusation in his voice, and Mace nods even as Obi-Wan stares at each one in turn.

“Yes. Or, rather, you don’t win by defeating the romulans. You win by defeating the fear and panic in yourself.”

“Hmm. Well. That’s a very… vulcan… way of looking at a problem,” Cody offers, And Obi-Wan has to bite back a laugh at the frustration he can hear hidden deep beneath the calm.

“I’m sure you’d know, Commander,” Mace replies. “Now, take a few days off, both of you. Don’t think I didn’t see how many simulator hours you both logged this past month.”

Cody and Obi-Wan makes no promises, but they do bow to Mace and give their sincere thanks to each member of their cohort that volunteered to help Obi-Wan through the test. They walk, side by side, out onto the fresh green lawn of Starfleet Academy. The omnipresent Bay Area fog spills over the long clean lines of the Golden Gate Bridge, and the multi-colored row houses of San Francisco glint in the butter-yellow afternoon sunlight filtering down.

Obi-Wan holds out two fingers again, and Cody lets his own rest against Obi-Wan’s as they make their way back to the Starfleet dorms. The spring air seeps into Obi-Wan’s skin, lightening his heart and clearing his mind. It was a long test, he thinks. It’s been a long month. He glances over at Cody, and he can see the frustrated relief at passing an unwinnable test gathered in each tense knob of Cody’s spine.

He knocks their shoulders together.

“A few days off, hm?” Obi-Wan teases. “Whatever shall we do with ourselves?”

With insulting immediacy, Cody says, “Sleep.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes in mock outrage, but he can’t say sleep isn’t also first on his list. Mace might know their logged simulator time, but Obi-Wan had hidden the counter after it passed 400.

Just as Obi-Wan is about to make a token protest, though, Cody looks over at him. The sunlight catches in his dark brown eyes, sparking through them with joyful warmth, and that near-hidden smile crooks his mouth again. “But after that? Well, you’re creative. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes twinkle as he smiles back, delighted. He twines their fingers together even as it deepens the green of Cody’s blush—even as he feels Cody’s mind brush against his—and stares up at the stars waiting for him just beyond the sky’s thin veneer of blue.

***

Three years later, Anakin cheats his way through the Kobayashi Maru, and a legal student at Starfleet Law named Padme Amidala levies accusations of cheating against him in an academy-wide disciplinary hearing.