#marittefic

Vel’s brilliantly blue eyes met hers. In the privacy of their yurt, anticipation hung like mildew in the air. Cinta closed her eyes as Vel leaned in… Only to rain kisses on every space of skin on Cinta’s face. Even now, laughter didn’t come easy to her, but it bubbled dangerously in the pit of Cinta’s stomach with each loud, smacking press of Vel’s lips against her cheeks, forehead, nose, and chin. It was when Vel sucked at the skin underneath her jaw that it broke free: a high, inelegant thing that melted away into a pleasant tingle that ran down Cinta’s spine.

With a snort that she would deny having ever escaped her, Cinta broke free and shoved her hand over the other woman’s mouth. The immediate look of disappointment had Cinta rolling her eyes with a malice that was as heavy as wheat.

“Pest.”

When she moved her hand away, Vel’s grin, as large as it had been when Cinta had first kissed her on Aldhani, grew wider. “You said make it count!”

With a good-natured huff, Cinta turned to leave.

“Cinta, wait—”

She looked back, the soft concern in Vel’s voice enough to pull her to a standstill. There she stood, a hand raised as if to point at something, but which quickly curled into a fist that hung limply at her side.

“Vel?”

They had spent years apart, and it was this absence that Cinta felt answered the question of why she couldn’t detect what silent conversation was happening behind Vel’s eyes. The problem with mirrors, Cinta thought, was that they worked both ways. Her inadequacy, her fear… There was still so much about Vel she had to relearn.

The moment passed, and Vel’s gaze lingered on her again; everything grew still. Vel’s clearwater eyes swept over her face as though it held the answer to every pleasant thing in the universe. It was a look that made the nodes keeping her heart and lungs working whir. Half machine she might have been, when it came to Vel, she had learned that she was anything but.

A beat and Vel, remembering it had been her who had started this conversation in the first place, found her voice. Her grin had eased into a smile. “Nevermind. Draven has me with a new bunch today, so I’ll be back late tonight.” The hand that had been lingering on her own cheek fell to a half-hearted wave. “Go save lives, love.”

Cinta refrained from saying anything about how hard that had become with each passing day as their supplies dwindled. The atmosphere was light. Cheerful, even. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she let it remain.

With a last look over her shoulder, Cinta departed.

////

Cinta was used to people avoiding her.

When she had first arrived on base, the orange lights of her pulmonodes had made her stick out like a sore thumb. Most had the sense not to make their discomfort obvious. The ones that hadn’t swiftly changed their tune at receiving ten extra laps around Yavin base, courtesy of instruction from Commander Sartha.

As a rule of thumb, Cinta tried not to linger on those first few months — and the fragile look on Vel’s face whenever she did something that the other woman had compartmentalized as too risky — which mostly meant moving at all.

Yet ever since she had left their yurt today, Cinta had noticed there was something different about everyone. People were avoiding her, yes, but there was something in their eyes, a pool of warmth that Cinta didn’t know what to do with — especially from people who weren’t Vel. It was like they were all in on some big inside joke.

Thankfully, being on a base like Yavin with so many people coming in and out, there were plenty of other things to occupy herself with. It was how Cinta knew Kleya was in a terrible mood — Cinta had heard her nights working alongside Mothma were cut short by Draven needing her expertise on potential allies in the Outer Rim — long before she appeared in front of Cinta's desk inside medical.

Kleya hadn’t looked up from the datapad she was reading from when she approached. That was fine with Cinta; she was too busy trying to figure out how to make their dwindling supply of stimpacks last longer.

“Where’s your worst half?”

Cinta pushed down the smile that was etching its way onto her lips. She had a reputation to keep on this base. “Shouldn’t you know that? You work in communications.”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Last time I saw her was this morning.”

And what a pleasant morning that had been. She had been lucky enough to avoid Dritzlo in medical so he hadn’t been around to dress her up and down for being late. But even if he had, the way the bruise under her chin ached when she pressed it would have made the whole thing worth it.

“Well, if you see her…” Kleya looked up from the datapad, and Cinta watched as her left eye immediately twitched at the corner. A pause that felt like someone had stopped time with a click of their fingers lingered between them before the seconds and minutes broke free again at the sound of Kleya clearing her throat. “Never mind. You’re busy.”

Cinta was busy, but she and Kleya were far too alike, and the other woman’s swiftness in planning her departure made her pulmonodes practically vibrate with an all-too-telling anxiety.

“Something the matter?” She asked Kleya’s retreating back.

When Kleya didn’t respond, Cinta leaned back in her chair with a shake of her head. It looked like she was eating alone at lunch today.

/////

But even lunch came with its own fair share of confusion — and the disappointing realization that Vel’s cousin, Mon Mothma, wasn’t immune to whatever was going on.

It was hard to gel completely with Mon, especially when she seemed to show up whenever Cinta and Vel actually had time to spend together. Even so, the level of respect she and Mon held for one another was far from fake. It was that fact which made Cinta so unprepared when Mon, walking alongside Draven through the mess hall, caught her eating her lunch and paused completely in her stride.

When Cinta met her gaze, forcing herself to cool her features long enough not to look at Mothma with anything but confidence, she blinked back her surprise at seeing the older woman fighting to keep her eyebrows from twisting into what she could only assume was some state of amusement.

Cinta bit back her exhale of relief that she was sitting alone in the mess. Some on the medical team already felt she got away with too much just because of her connection to Vel.

“Yes?”

As if she hadn't realized she'd paused in the first place, Mon flinched and worked to pull her face back into neutrality. The result had Cinta holding back a wince.

“Of course. Apologies. I was merely stopping to say hello…” For a politician, Cinta was having a hard time buying whatever false excuse that was tumbling out of Mon’s mouth.

“Barring the shocking lack of decorum from—” Draven began before a sharp glare from Mon made him immediately fall silent.

Cinta felt her hand waver in shoving her food into her mouth. Decorum? What in the karking hell was Draven talking about now?

“Forgive us. We didn't mean to interrupt. Enjoy your lunch.” Mon had only taken one step forward before she paused and retreated back to where Cinta sat. “Also, both you and Vel should know I won't be back tonight.”

If she had any trouble understanding what meaning she was supposed to glean from that, it became clear after Mon lingered on the spot far longer than necessary.

Feeling a flush crawl up the back of her neck, Cinta forced herself not to look away. Two could play at that game.

“Noted. I’ll let Raj in communications know Kleya might be late tomorrow.”

Mon couldn’t leave her sight fast enough.

////

Her salvation arrived in the form of Caleen and Andor.

At first, she had been wary of letting anyone but herself and Dritzlo near her pulmonodes. Mon had gotten her the best care on Alderaan; it wouldn’t do to let anyone else tinker or help maintain them lest she trusted them to have the experience to do so. But Caleen’s mechanical and engineering skills weren’t something to sniff at and — as Vel liked to remind her, as subtle as a mudhorn to the rear — sometimes asking for help was necessary.

Her mechanized heart and lungs always felt like they were about to explode at the very idea. They churned in her chest when she saw Caleen and Andor at the entrance of her, Vel’s and Mon’s shared yurt.

Cinta had kept a respectable distance from being in their presence at the same time as both of them. It was difficult to look at people whose love for one another was so clear that it made it all the more obvious how much time she had wasted not fully committing to Vel.

Change came so naturally to some. For her, it was like wearing boots two sizes too small, and it chafed just as much.

Caleen caught sight of her resting on the wonky-legged couch, and though her eyes drifted over her face, her smile didn’t falter as everyone else’s had today. Cinta rubbed at the orange lights on her chest. Good.

Andor, however, wasn’t so fortunate.

“I'll get out of your two's hair…” He paused at the entrance, took her in, and didn't bother to hide his smirk. Why was everyone so adamant about doing that today?

“What?” She bit out.

“Nothing!” His voice broke at the end, but instead of looking as embarrassed as she would have felt in his place, her question seemed to have only pleased him. “Vel around?”

He was the fifth person to mention Vel and her whereabouts. “I'm not her keeper.”

Cassian looked as though he was holding back a snort. “Hm. Seems the opposite.”

Caleen was obviously amused, but unlike Andor, she had the decency to look apologetic about it. She jabbed an elbow into his side. “Get gone.”

When he did leave, Cinta’s withering glare following him, Caleen approached her with an ease that not many had ever shown her. Not that she could blame them, she had never tried to correct anyone on their first impressions of her. She didn’t have the time, nor the patience.

She unbuttoned her shirt. She had decided not to go through with having bacta placed on her pulmonodes to help skin grow over it. What would be the point? It seemed a superficial thing to care about, and her lack of skin there never seemed to upset Vel.

Caleen, having grown used to the near-silent treatment during each and every check-up, quickly got to work in examining the back and front of the pulmonodes plating. For the most part, Cinta couldn’t feel anything during these sessions and spent most of the time pretending it wasn’t happening at all.

“Sorry about Cassian.”

“I don’t c—” Speaking carefully around people that weren’t Vel had never come easy, but the moment her words were already past her lips, Cinta took the pains to reel them back in. “It’s fine. He’s not the first.”

“Oh.” It really was looking like today would be far more chatty than expected. “Well, it’s nothing serious. You just have…” Cinta looked up when Caleen trailed off. The mechanic was pointing at her face. “Something.”

That was it? The thing that had made even Kleya, usually so reserved and above it all, flinch, came down to nothing more than something being on her face? The fact that Mon Mothma, of all people, had fallen prey to the same childish musings, too?

Irritation colored her turning back around to snatch at the hand mirror from the coffee table. Caleen, wisely, continued her work in silence.

Embarrassment, hot and all-encompassing, robbed her of speech.

There, on her face, was a collection of Vel’s kisses left behind by the other woman’s tinted lip balm. The most obvious ones were on her forehead and jaw, a plethora of them looking like footprints against the planes of her skin. The largest was the smudged kiss at the corner of her mouth, likely smeared throughout the day because of her medical mask and during lunch.

She tilted her head up. The bruise under her chin, the one she had been poking at all day, also sported the familiar edges of Vel’s kiss.

Realization struck her like a slap to the face. This is what Vel had wanted to tell her this morning, but hadn’t. Had Vel wanted to embarrass her? No. Vel and her had rowed many times in their relationship, and while both of them were capable of cruelty, this was something else. She just couldn’t recognize what.

Silence collapsed in on itself when Caleen, her fingers withdrawing from where they had been checking on her pulmonodes inner wiring, caught her gaze.

“Growing up, I used do the same to Cassian. Stole my mother’s lipstick and went to town.” Cinta had half a mind to blurt out that she couldn’t care less, but the way her stomach twisted at the confession seemed to belie that particular thought.

Caleen chuckled under her breath. “It was stupid, but people in love do stupid things. Not even a war can stop that. And besides…” Caleen tapped the plating of her pulmonodes with the edge of a nail. “There are worse things to have on your face.”

Cinta opened her mouth to argue, and when she found that she couldn't, leaned back against the sofa with a deep sigh.

That was it, wasn’t it? It wasn’t a joke to ridicule or belittle her at all. She glanced towards the hand mirror and, her body feeling looser and lighter now, admired how stark Vel’s love was against her skin.

Warmth, mortifying in its relentlessness, filled her, and unbidden, she let herself relax. If Caleen hadn’t been here, she might have even laughed at how ridiculous it was that nobody, barring Draven, had been brave enough to mention the fact that she was covered in kisses.

Buttoning up her shirt, she eyed Caleen with a new sense of admiration.

“Thank you.”

Caleen shrugged and, packing up the last of her tools, gave her a nod. “Looking good. On both counts.”

Cinta rolled her eyes, but gave her own nod. “If you see Vel, give her a heads up.”

Caleen arched her brow. “About?”

“That I know.”

If the mechanic thought that sounded particularly ominous, she was clever enough not to let it show on her face.

/////

Later that evening, Vel returned. Seeing Cinta bare-faced, sitting up in bed with her arms crossed over her chest, she opened her mouth to speak. “I…”

“I forgive you. Get into bed.”

The image of Vel meekly lifting the corner of the thin quilt to slide next to her would be seared in Cinta’s mind forever. If Vel’s recruits ever saw her like this, they would never listen to another order from her again — a shame, because Cinta liked watching them squirm under Vel’s command.

Still. Sacrifices had to be made.

“Give me your lip balm.”

Vel blinked, but realizing that it didn’t look as though they were about to get into an argument, reached over the side of the bed to retrieve it.

She recognized the offending object immediately. It was smooth and circular and had been a recent gift from Mon.

Swinging her leg over Vel’s hips, Cinta sat and held the lip balm up as though presenting the catch after a particularly gruelling fishing trip.

“I’m going to put this on and kiss every inch of you.” Vel looked far too pleased about that, so Cinta kissed the pleasure off her face. She drew back when she felt Vel’s breath stutter in her mouth. “You’re not allowed to wipe it off. You can’t acknowledge it at all.”

A soft whine passed Vel’s lips. Cinta sat back and, applying the lip balm as softly and slowly as she could, watched as Vel tried her best not to wriggle underneath her.

“Any questions?”

Vel shook her head.

“Good.” Cinta gripped Vel’s jaw between her hands and tugged her forward until the only sensation that mattered was hot breath against her lips.