#hiscommand

Over thirty-five hours of scorching contemporary omegaverse romance all for the cost of a single credit–get HIS COMMAND: THE COMPLETE SERIES, by Piper Scott and narrator Michael Dean, today!

“hm? oh, thank you,” rowan scrubs the back of her hand across her eyes and stifles a yawn - she’s fallen asleep at her workbench, wrench in hand, lines indented into her cheek from where various wires had pressed into her skin. “that’s very kind of you,” she takes the cup with a sleepy smile and folds both hands around it, glancing up at cody, “you can sit down, if you’d like. i could use the company to keep me awake.” she hadn’t intended to fall asleep (or to work herself to exhaustion), but she’s now hard-pressed to give even an estimate of the current time, and this is the closest thing to sustenance that she’s had all day. “this droid is stubborn, it seems like i’ll be here all night. what time is it? i was supposed to talk to the general about his ship.”

rowan finds herself on the wrong end of a blaster whilst trying to repair a land speeder in the middle of the battlefield, and lands herself in the med bay upon their return to base. it’s nothing terrible, not really - just a flesh wound on her ribs, but it’s enough to leave the medic with a grim expression on his face that rowan puts down to the simple fact of her civilian status. she’s not meant to get caught up in battles and wounded like this. she’s just getting ready to leave when she spots cody coming towards her, his presence giving her pause, “oh, commander, i-” she finds herself surprised again, for the millionth time today, as she’s drawn into an unexpected hug. “i didn’t think you knew i was here,” she admits, “i didn’t, uh - didn’t get a chance to tell you before they brought me back. it’s not a big deal, really it’s not, i’ll be ready to go again tomorrow.” the more rowan insists, the less sobering the realization is that she’s just been shot.

for once, obi-wan is asleep - it’s a rare occurrence for him to ever retire to his bunk without complaint, but he’s been running on empty for so long that he’s barely managed to get his boots off before collapsing into bed. he’s not sure how much later it is when the door slides open and cody’s familiar silhouette is outlined in the light of the hallway. clone or not, he’d know him in a heartbeat, even at the very ends of the galaxy. he lifts his head and blinks blearily towards the door, summoning a sleepy yet somehow still warm smile and shifting over towards the wall, “come on, then,” he murmurs, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, “you know you don’t have to ask, cody,” obi-wan pulls back the blanket and gestures towards the empty space with his free hand, “come here.”

it’s too quiet. normally, obi-wan is never averse to silence - in fact, he revels in it - but after the day they’ve had, the battle they’ve so narrowly won, he’s acutely aware of the ringing in his ears and the thudding ache in his temples. at his side rests the familiar presence of his commander, plastoid armour pressed against obi-wan’s aching shoulder and ribs. what he’s expecting less, however, is the gentle nudge that has him raising his head in time to be drawn into cody’s chest. there’s no prying eyes here to ask questions, though he still half expects to see anakin’s infuriatingly knowing smirk as soon as they make it back to the ship. obi-wan goes effectively boneless against the other man, sheer exhaustion settling into his very soul. he’s getting too old for this. “thank you, cody.”

        silence  is  hard  to  find  for  dan.  between  the  torrent  of  his  own  mind,  most  times  he’s  face  with  a  bombardment  of  images  and  thoughts  from  other  people.  of  course,  as  he  gets  older  he  adjusts  in  a  sort  of  way,  that  they’re  not  too  invasive  but  in  his  teen  years  it  was  near  TORTURE.  even  still,  he  craves  that  sort  of  silence,  clamoring  on  to  any  semblance  of  peace  he  can  garner.  at  times  when  THE  SHINING  is  quiet,  it  feels  as  though  he  can  think,  be  more  himself  --  even  being  able  to  claim  some  stability.  on  the  other  hand,  that  noise  is  such  a  STAPLE  in  his  life,  being  without  any  also  brings  him  a  keen  unsettling  feeling,  as  if  he  cannot  be  without  SOME  kind  of  distraction,  filling  the  void.  the  good  thing  though,  is  he  loves  music  and  reading,  two  activities  that  manage  to  keep  any  wary  feelings  from  overwhelming  him.

“bit of a disaster, honestly,” rowan sighs, she’s covered in grease and soot, and the AT-RT she’s been working on is a smoking wreck in the middle of the hangar. “it, uh - it didn’t feel like cooperating. it chose a violent yet noble death instead.” she drags a hand down her face, tracking grease along with it, before she shifts her gaze towards cody and gives a smile and a thumbs up, “but everything’s fine. no one got hurt. not badly, anyway.” she’d been blown back a solid few feet and her hair smells burnt, but she’s more or less unscathed. she watches as another mechanic rushes in with a fire extinguisher to put out what remains of the walker. “i guess you’d be the one to tell if one of the walkers needs to be decommissioned, right? uh - consider this your notice, that one’s not going anywhere fast.”

I hope this made some sort of sense. - KTF