#sw reader insert

But he isn't, and you know it. A few weeks ago, he'd left for a mission on the planet Saleucami, intent on tracking down General Grievous and bringing him in.

That night, the night he left, was the first time he kissed you.

You're taking your relationship with Rex slow. Trying, despite everything he makes you feel, not to get too attached in case something happens—in case there's a mission Rex doesn't come back from.

You know that over every mission, every goodbye, looms the threat of never seeing Rex again. Every time he leaves he promises he'll come back, but those promises are more often than not empty.

They're just reassurances, said to make you feel better, usually accompanied by a hug—or, in the case of last time, a lingering kiss that makes your heart flutter every time you think about it.

But really, how could he know? Rex is no Jedi, and despite how little you know about the ancient religion of warriors, you know that their ability to see the future is rare. To cheat death, even more so.

Rex is mortal.

You wish, selfishly and horribly, that he wasn't.

The memory of your first meeting flashes before your closed eyes. A cafe on the upper levels of Coruscant, open windows bathing the tables in sunlight, warm summer air wafting in through the open door. You were working on your datapad in the far corner, absently sipping your coffee, when a gaggle of identical soldiers walked through the front door.

"Is this seat taken?" Rex asked, then, and you were so starstruck by his sharp features, his gentle smile, his shock of blond hair—that all you could do was shake your head and stare.

He still throws you off your guard. Still makes your heart skip a beat with his smile. It's effortless for him but oh-so-beautiful to you. You smile sadly, eyes still closed as you imagine him carding his calloused fingers through your hair, making your tight bun come loose.

Cyar’ika, he calls you. Beloved.

"Cyar’ika?" asks a voice, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you, because you think you're dreaming—you must be dreaming.

Maybe you wished him into existence, you consider as you whip around in your chair to see a bleary-eyed Rex standing in the doorway to your bedroom. But no, Rex really is there, wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a simple grey t-shirt—both of which you bought for him, along with several other civilian outfits. Just one of the many things you did at the beginning of your friendship to make him feel like he belongs.

"Rex," you breathe in disbelief, standing up to meet him. His arm is in a sling and his cheekbone is bruised purple. "How—how long have you been here?"

He smiles, and though it's lopsided and half-asleep, it makes your stomach do backflips. You choke back a relieved sob and throw yourself into Rex's arms, not caring that your tears are wetting his shirt.

"Oof," he coughs out, tensing slightly. "Ow—cyar’ika, my arm—"

"Sorry, sorry," you say hurriedly, pulling away. Staring up at Rex now, you feel the sudden urge to kiss him with everything you have. You look down at his arm sling and frown. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll live,” Rex says flippantly. “It’s not too bad.”

“If you’re sure,” you say quietly.

"I’m sure," he whispers into the quiet, uninjured hand coming to rest hesitantly at the nape of your neck. "I missed you."

Smiling widely, you stand on the tips of your toes and press a soft, chaste kiss to Rex's cheek. Just as you're about to pull away, though, you feel Rex pull you back against his body in another warm hug.

His injured arm is pressed underneath your chest, but his other hand is now on your waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending chills all down your spine. Despite the shift in his mood, you huff a quiet laugh.

"What?" Rex asks, voice slightly hoarse as he pulls away to raise an eyebrow at you.

You swallow and shake your head, curling a strand of hair behind your ear. "Nothing, it's just—" you shake your head. "I've never seen you like... this."

And, you think happily, it's a pleasant surprise. You bought Rex clothes and gave him the code to your flat several months ago, long before any feelings were made clear—but you've never actually seen him in civvies, much less his underwear. You glance down, and feel your cheeks burn when you realize that they're not so much boxers as they are briefs, somewhere in the middle of skin-tight and loose-fitting.

You clear your throat and look away. "Anyway... yeah."

Rex's fingers under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him, make you blush even more-if that's possible.

Your face feels like it's about to burst into flames.

"I should be sorry," he says quietly, honey-brown eyes searching yours. "I didn't mean to put you in an uncomfortable position."

Rex's gaze is tender and soft, like sunlight spilling over a field after dawn. You can't help but bite your bottom lip briefly before replying, "No, no, you didn't. I’ve told you a million times that what’s mine is yours. I’m glad you’ve finally listened.” You pause. “I just... I had no idea you had the legs of an underwear model."

At this, Rex laughs, voice low and gravelly. His cheeks are flushed too, now, a pleasant pink color that makes you feel warm all over.

"Careful," Rex chides softly, smirking, "or you might overinflate my ego."

You let out a short giggle and feel the sudden urge to kiss him, but your relationship is still so new, so tender and uncertain. Yes, he kissed you before he left for the mission on Saleucami, but it was rushed and spur-of-the-moment.

And you've never kissed him. It's only ever been the other way around.

But as you look up at Rex's honey-coloured eyes, you start to build up the courage to initiate the kiss yourself this time—but he beats you to it.

Because the next second Rex is cupping your cheek with his uninjured hand and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss seems to last forever. When Rex pulls away, he leaves you breathless and blushing, heart beating faster than you knew it could. After a moment of disbelieving silence, you smile widely and move your hand to the back of Rex's neck, pressing your forehead to his in what he once taught you was a kov'nyn—a Keldabe kiss.

"Thank you," you whisper, breath fanning onto Rex's mouth.

He cards a hand through your messy hair and chuckles softly. "For what?"

You pull away and press a soft, chaste kiss to Rex's lips before smiling widely at him. "For coming back."

"Always, cyar׳ika," Rex whispers. "This is the only place I want to be."

"Really? This dinky apartment?" you ask.

"With you," Rex clarifies. He takes a step closer, pressing your abdomens together, and kisses the corner of your mouth quickly. Then, expression suddenly turning almost apprehensive, he says, "I... I hope it's okay I spent the past few hours here."

You blink. "What?" you ask, taking Rex's hand and leading him to the kitchen. "Rex, why wouldn't it be okay? I keep telling you—I didn’t give you the code for no reason.”

In the several moments of silence it takes for Rex to answer, you hop up on the kitchen table, legs swinging back and forth. Rex is still holding onto your hand with his uninjured one, and it strikes you that you haven't even asked him what happened.

But then again, he rarely enjoys talking about his missions.

A throat clear from Rex makes you frown. He's blushing again. "Well, I just..." he trails off, hesitating. "I kind of fell asleep in your bed without meaning to. I wasn't thinking that maybe you're not comfortable with—"

"Rex." You lay a hand on his jawline. "It's okay. Really. I told you—I keep telling you—what’s mine is yours.”

He looks doubtful. "If—if you're sure..."

You nod. "I am. I promise." There's a long silence; Rex is searching your face like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. You smile reassuringly. "In fact, I’m so sure that… I was thinking of extending the offer to tonight."

Rex blinks. "Tonight...?"

"As in," you hesitate, swallowing your nerves, "I was going to say you could just sleep here tonight. My bed is big enough for both of us, and it's okay if you don’t want to stay but you really shouldn’t have to take yourself home in this state—I mean, you’re hurt—”

A small crease has appeared between Rex’s brows. His cheeks are flushed, his honey-coloured eyes blown wide. You frown and start to pull away, disentangling yourself slowly from Rex’s grasp.

“But,” you continue hurriedly, stumbling over your words, “but I’d completely understand if you’d prefer to go back to your barracks—if you don’t feel comfortable taking that step yet—”

Rex’s uninjured hand, large and firm and steady against your back, moves to take your smaller hand and draws it to his chest. Breath stolen, you stop talking abruptly.

“I do,” he says softly, voice firm but gentle. “Feel comfortable, that is. Here. With… with you.”

You inhale sharply, and move your free hand up to his cheek to run the pad of your thumb across his face—over the bridge of his nose, across his cheekbone, to the slightly-longer-than-regulation blond buzz of hair. "Really? You're sure?"

"Absolutely," Rex breathes. He squeezes your hand and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Your bed felt empty without you in it, you know."

"Hm." You return the kiss, this time on his lips, and it feels more than right. "Well, why don't we fix that?"

“Er,” Rex says.

You clear your throat.

Rex says nothing.

You are standing shoulder-to-shoulder in your bedroom, facing the door to your refresher with your backs to your bed.

Since the beginning of your friendship with Rex, you have always felt uncommonly comfortable with him. Only now that there is something new between you—now that there is a definition for this thing that you have finally decided to act upon, and now that you are faced with the real possibility of intimacy—you are overcome with nerves. It seems that Rex is, too.

“This is—” your voice cracks embarrassingly, and you clear your throat, drawing the sleeves of your work uniform shirt further down past your fingertips. “This is a lot more… intimate than I was expecting.”

Rex turns to you, looking somewhat panicked. “I can go, if—”

“No!” You say hurriedly, turning to face Rex, then feel your face heat up. Don’t sound so desperate. “No, it’s alright, I’ve just never… well, you know I’ve never really done anything like this before—or been with anyone in… in that way…” your voice is trailing off, growing more hushed as you continue.

“It’s—don’t just say that you’re okay with me being here for the night if you’re not,” Rex implores, taking a step closer to you. He reaches out with the arm that is not in a sling as if to take your hand, then seems to think better of it and steps back. “I’m just as lost here as you are.”

You smile, then, and feel a warmth settling over the two of you, and think that perhaps the fact that there is something new between you doesn’t have to make what the two of you have any different.

You take Rex’s hand. “Alright,” you say quietly. “That’s good to know. And I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t mean it.”

Rex huffs a laugh, his hand trailing up your arm to cup your cheek; it makes you shiver as warmth trails up your spine.

“Well… we can take it slowly,” he murmurs, and there is something reverent in his amber eyes, like he can’t bear to ever look away. He smiles, then, and it fills you with more warmth than you ever thought possible. “And anyway, I sort of just want to sleep.” He pauses, hesitating for a moment, then tilts his head slightly and drops his hand. “Preferably with you in my arms.”

You cannot help the smile that pulls on your lips or the flutter in your stomach. “I think that can be arranged. But first—I need to shower.” You roll your shoulders back, stretching out your spine. “It’s been a long day.”

On impulse, you lean forward and press another chaste kiss to Rex’s lips; his uninjured arm all but chases your body, drifting to your waist as he leans into the kiss—but you pull away almost immediately, giggling at his disappointed expression and flushed cheeks.

Rex sighs. “Don’t laugh at me. It just gets more addicting every time.”

This only makes you laugh more, walking over to your closet to pull out an oversized sleep shirt and a pair of clean underwear, along with a towel for the shower. You palm the control pad next to the refresher door; the door slides open, and at the same time the bedroom lights wink out, throwing the space into a cool darkness. A sliver of golden light from the refresher spills out, bathing you in warmth, and when you smile over your shoulder at him, Rex is gone.

“Get back in bed, okay?” you say. “I’ll be right out.”

You disappear into the refresher, leaving Rex alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

For a long moment, he simply stands there, listening as the sound of you pattering around in the refresher reaches him from the other side of the closed door. It hums softly around him, in a symphony of simple domesticity—the air filters circulating, the conservator humming from the kitchen, distant traffic whirring outside in the late Coruscant night. He has always loved your apartment, despite it being so different from the constant mechanical drone of the Resolute or the restless noise of the barracks.

In the beginning, the quiet—your quiet—left him disoriented. Now, it is all he waits for on long campaigns.

Carefully, slowly, Rex sits down on the edge of the bed. His injured arm still aches, wrapped up and bacta-slathered though it is. Not for the first time since leaving Saleucami, he thinks of Cut and Suu—of the love they share, and of the line they crossed. Rex wonders if, one day, the two of you might cross that line too.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as it did the first time, just hours ago when he found his way to your bed as you told him he could. He still feels guilty—for coming into your home while you’re not there, despite you explicitly stating that he can.

He runs his uninjured hand over one of the many plush pillows and inhales deeply. The faint scent of your shampoo lingers on the sheets.

What’s mine is yours.

Your words, unconditionally kind and so painfully you, echo in his head.

Rex glances toward the refresher door when the sound of running water begins. This, too—the fact that you have a running water shower, not a sonic, something he hadn’t experienced until you told him he could come to your apartment after campaigns—is a novelty. He imagines you standing under the spray, shoulders relaxing after the long day you endured at work, hair darkening with the water and trailing down your back. The thought makes his chest ache with something he can’t quite name.

Maker, how he’s missed you.

Without really meaning to, Rex lies back against the pillows. He blinks up at the ceiling above him; it is plain and unremarkable—but it isn’t a durasteel bunk above his head, and it isn’t the cold open sky of a battlefield. It’s yours.

Rex’s eyes drift shut for a moment—you did say to get back in bed, after all—but just then, the refresher door slides open with a quiet hiss and pulls him back to awareness. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, blinking sleepily towards the doorway, and watches as warm steam spills out into the bedroom, curling lazily in the air.

Then you step out.

Your hair is damp, the ends darkened with water, and the oversized sleep shirt hangs loosely off your shoulders, one side slipping just enough to show the curve of your collarbone. The hem brushes the tops of your thighs as you walk, toweling at your hair, face flushed from the hot water.

And despite your unreal beauty, Rex wasn’t staring before—he’s gotten better about it, since first meeting you. But now… now, he definitely is.

You catch the look immediately. Your brows lift, and a small, amused smile tugs at your mouth as you continue drying your hair.

“Enjoying the view, Captain?”

Rex startles like he’s been caught doing something illegal, sitting up suddenly and tucking one leg underneath himself. He clears his throat, willing his face to stop burning, and fiddles awkwardly with his arm sling.

“I—what—no,” he says quickly, voice rough. He clears his throat again and attempts a recovery. “I mean—I wasn’t staring.”

You’re smiling at him like you know something he doesn’t. “You were absolutely staring.”

“I was not.”

You drop the towel over the back of your desk chair and turn to face him fully, arms crossing loosely over your middle.

“Oh, really, now?” you ask sweetly.

Rex rubs the back of his neck with his good hand, looking everywhere except at you now—the floor, the wall, the ceiling, the nightstand. Anywhere but the oversized shirt that somehow manages to make his brain stop working. He wants to look back at you, but he knows that if he does, he’ll surely embarrass himself, either by being struck dumb and unable to look away or by succumbing to the insatiable urge to touch you. Which would be rather—well, improper.

“I was… observing,” Rex mutters. It sounds unconvincing even to his own ears.

You snort.

“Observing,” you repeat. “Right.”

Despite your teasing, warmth spreads through Rex’s chest, and he gives in to the desire to look at you again—and he truly cannot look away. The sight of you like this, hair damp and mussed, wearing sleep clothes, more skin bared to him than he’s ever seen—

It feels strangely domestic. Strangely right.

You move toward the bed, towards Rex, and nudge him gently to his feet. As he watches, you pull back the covers he’s been sitting on and climb in; it exposes more of the soft skin of your thighs, along with a quick glimpse of your underwear. Rex files that sighting away to think about later. In this moment, you deserve all of his focus.

“C’mon,” you say softly, scooting to the far side of the bed and fluffing the pillows. You hold out a hand. “Get in.”

Rex takes it—and then hesitates. You notice immediately.

“What is it?” you ask.

“I…” Rex swallows. “You’re sure?”

You frown and scoot closer to him, taking both of his hands.

“Of course,” you murmur, kneeling on the bed so that you’re at eye level with him. You move your hands to rest on his clothed chest, warm and small compared to his unforgiving, obtrusive bulkiness.

“Okay,” he says softly.

You lean in to press a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek, then pull away and look at him with your impossibly beautiful eyes, smiling slowly. “Okay.”

In the quiet, it’s easy to get lost in you—in your flowery scent, in the softness of your knees against his thighs, in the warmth of your presence. He leans in, drawn to you, and whispers, “Cyar’ika—”

You cut him off with a kiss, and this time, it’s different. Before, they were all soft, careful, almost shy—but this one lands with intent, like you know what you want.

For a heartbeat Rex freezes, startled that you were the one to close the distance, but then he feels something in him shift. His hand at your waist tightens of its own accord, reveling in the warmth of your skin even through the fabric of your shirt, and he leans into the kiss with a low inhale. You make a small sound against his mouth that he feels more than hears, and it sends a shiver through his entire body that makes the pain in his injured arm all but disappear.

Your hands move from his chest up to the nape of his neck, toying with the short blond fuzz there, and Rex cannot help the sigh that he releases into your mouth as his lips move against yours.

“Stars,” he whispers in between kisses, breathing the air between your mouths, “You’re so—so soft—”

You deepen the kiss without a word. Rex’s movements are still careful—he is always careful with you—but his hesitance from earlier melts away. His mouth moves against yours with a growing certainty, slow and thorough.

He feels you shift closer on your knees, and seizes the opportunity that comes to him as your balance wavers just slightly. Rex reacts on instinct, sliding his hand from your waist to the dip between your shoulder blades, and guides you back towards the mattress, shifting you so that your head is on the pillow.

Slowly, Rex lowers himself to lie beside you, careful of his bad arm, and props himself up on his good elbow. He turns to look at you, and the sight that greets him is dizzying—your hair, draped across the pillow, is haloing your face; your eyes are bright; your lips are flushed and swollen from kissing. As Rex stares, you smile and reach up to run your knuckles across his cheek.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” Rex says softly.

He reaches down to pull the covers over the two of you, and you shift closer to him, moving to lie on your side as he turns into his back. Your arm snakes across his stomach and around his waist, while your leg tangles with his.

“Is your arm alright?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow to look up at him.

Rex nods, reaching up with his good arm to brush a stray curl from your face. “You have a way of taking the pain away.”

“I thought about you for weeks. About being here with you,” he says. “Out there, it was… it was all I thought about.”

You hum softly and trace circles over Rex’s chest; it makes him shiver.

“Well,” you murmur, “you’re here now. With me.” You’re talking so quietly that it’s only because of how close you are that he can hear you at all.

“Yeah,” Rex whispers. “It does look that way, doesn’t it?”

With a soft hum, you lean down, kissing him with a kind of reverence that makes Rex’s breath catch. It is the kind of reverence he kisses you with. His hand moves from your cheek to your waist, pulling you a little closer to him as the kiss lingers.

The world outside your apartment fades from his awareness—the city, the galaxy, everything but the warmth of you and the feel of your body against his. For the first time since he left for Saleucami, the war feels very far away.

Judging by the state of absolute chaos and the near immediate severing of the connection to your master the moment those rebels claimed victory, you knew had you wasted a moment, that day would have been your very last.

Your master had instilled in you the ability to compose oneself even amidst turmoil, but those lessons were furthest from your mind. Rounding the corner, the bulbs of the flashing red light and the sirens sounding the alarm burst at your bidding, sending transparisteel and hot metal flying.

So overwhelmed by the numerous sensory elements, you failed to notice the sound of boots pounding against the floor coming your way. It was unbecoming, but you let out startled squeal as you desperately tried too keep from running directly into a small group of rebels armed to the teeth.

Instinctively, you backed up, tempted to simply cut these people down like a farmer reaping their harvest. In spite of the fear, exhaustion and panic coursing through your body, you made no movements. These were only a few rebels, and more had surely made their way on board; your energy would need to be conserved.

"Move." You ordered through clenched teeth.

The one bastardly rebel in front gave you a satisfied smirk. The assurance on his becoming face was something you wanted to wipe off yourself.

"Sorry, no can do, sweetheart."

He paused, directing his companions to perform their duties elsewhere.

"In fact, we're here taking care of some lose ends." With one gloved hand he patted one of several blasters on his body. "I'd love for you to just come easy instead of having me go about this the wrong way."

It was that boyish smile framed by those dark curls that had your blood boiling.

"Oh yeah?" You croaked. "What if I just want to make your life hell?"

The man pouted. "Aw, c'mon don't be like that! Look, if you make it easy, I can vouch for ya and maybe you can get a nice cell back at the Coruscant detention block."

He kept talking, so confident in either taking you by force or by negotiating. However, you had developed a secret third option. As the rebel general was finishing up his negotiations, you cracked a tired smile much to the man's surprise.

Questioningly, he raised an eyebrow.

Giving and exaggerated bow, you made sure to keep your eyes on the enemy. "Well, thank you for talking my kriffing ear off, but...I have places to be, good sir."

Before he could get in another word, you leapt up flying through the gated vent you had been so quietly moving while the rebel serenaded you with his righteous spiel.

“Mirame, amor” (Look at me, love) he reminded you with a mischievous glint in his eyes reflecting like the shine of your juices on his lips.

———————————

“Mira, tan hermosa.” (Look, so beautiful.) He runs his fingers down your body, leaving trails of heat and shivers in their wake and making your body creen into the touch. You’re begging him with your eyes, unable to form words even if you could but there’s no making him move any faster. He’s appreciating your body. Each curve, each dip, each and every inch. 

———————————

“Mira como me toques.” (Look how you take me) He practically groans out, driving into you with a deep thrust and roll of his hips. 

You force your eyes open to see him above you, curls hanging down and swinging from the movement. The dark, long eyelashes framing his deep, dark, intense eyes. He drops his head to watch again as you follow his stare. Seeing your bodies combine. He enters you, in and out, slowing down and pulling out more now that he knows you’re watching. 

Seeing him and feeling him at the same time overloads your senses. His fingers curl under your chin and lift your eyes back to his. He looks at you, then down to your lips, an unspoken desire, before he leans in and captures your lips in his, holding onto them as he continues his worship. 

———————————

“Mira.” (Look) Your head snaps up and you hold his eyes - searching. 

He knows what he’s doing. What that word means in private. And now he’s using it. Out here in the open. A totally innocent word. A command used frequently. 

But the way he’s looking at you, telling you without words, and that smile, it’s holding an offer, promise, and tease all in one.

————————————

“Mírame, mi corazón,” (Look at me, my love.) you breathed out, slightly panting as you wrapped your hand around his neck, tilting his head away from its place kissing your arm.

He looked up at you with desire burning in his eyes, wide and excited, mouth hanging open before turning into a lip-bitten smile, your eyes wide and unable to stop watching as he dragged his tooth, slowly releasing it. 

You unconsciously mirrored his movements before leaning down to capture his lips in yours, both groaning into each other’s mouths as a result of the new angle letting him hit a different part of you. 

————————————

“¡Mirame piloto, si alguna vez vuelves a hacer algo tan estupido...!” (Look at me, pilot, if you ever do something as stupid as that again....)

The squad peeled their eyes from the floor and glanced at each other. They didn’t have to understand the language to know he got his ass chewed out. 

You must’ve been mad because you never addressed anyone in anything other than Basic. Aside from stress-filled curse words muttered under your breath or yelled to the Maker, they never heard it. 

You storm away before Poe or anyone else even knows what to say.

Rose nudges him from his stupor. 

“Dude, she was crying”

“She was?” his face dropping and heart wrenching.

“¡Amor!” (Love!) Not caring who will hear. 

He sees you down the hall against the wall with your head down and hand pinching your nose trying not to cry.

“Amor…” (Love…) he soothes softly, peppering you with kisses. 

“Amor, Y/N. Mirame, mi corazón.” (Love, Y/N. Look at me, my love.)

You crack an eye and sniffle through a weak, wavering smile. 

“Lo siento mi amor. Lo siento.” (I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry.)

His eyes are racing, flicking back and forth between yours, trying to decipher the emotion pouring out of them. The reigning emotions, fear and sadness. 

“Fue silento... Piense...” (It was silent… I thought…)

He didn’t make you finish the words once he saw your lip quiver and brought your head in close. 

“Estoy bien, mi amor. Estoy bien.” (I’m okay, my love. I’m okay.)

You brought your hands around him and grabbed onto his uniform. Your fingers tight and shaking.

“Feel me, I’m here.” he whispered.

Your breathing slowed and he bit back tears of his own. Knowing he caused you this much pain. To break in public was no small feat. 

“Why don’t we go lay down?”

You shook your head and pulled away. Red rimmed eyes staring back at him. 

“No. I have to go back.” You sniffled and wiped your salt-stained cheeks. 

“Luego. Promiso.” (Later. Promise.)

He sighed but then relented with a nod. The least he could do was not fight you anymore.

He gently lifted your chin and kissed you, apologies pouring out from the touch along with the words he wished he could speak. 

You pulled him in, giving your all, holding onto his lips like you had thought you’d never get to feel them again.

————————————

AU Bonus (Everyone is friends)

“Mira como duro me haces.” (Look how hard you make me.)

He guided your hand to his nearly throbbing bulge hidden beneath the table.

“Now what am I supposed to do with that, amor?” He whispered against the shell of your ear. His lips touching lightly with each word. 

You bit your lip, excitement coursing through you as you squeezed your hand and moved it up and down as minimally as you could. 

An exaggerated sigh breaks your bubble, and you both look up at a tired Ben across the table.

“I don’t have to read your thoughts to know what you two are up to.”

Fainting from exhaustion and dehydration had done you no favors. The color in your cheeks had yet to return and your hands trembled as you ran them over your face. Apparently the first medic on site had struggled to find a vein, leaving the inside of your elbow an abstract mess off deep purple and sickly yellow skin. The bruise bloomed around the needle in your arm like a dying violet. Growing more gruesome by the moment.

When word first made it to Roland that you had ran out of the bunker with less than three minutes to spare he had assumed it was just another rumor. They seemed to have been following you as of late. Sprouting like weeds about your feet. It was only when Penny began to panic, pushing through the rows of bunks and cots towards the small infirmary area that he began to believe it. Nearly 30 flights of stairs and you had ran it three times in under five minutes. It was no wonder the exhaustion had gotten the better of you, not to mention the liquor. “Well maybe-”

“Give it!” You held your hand out, turning your attention away as you waited.

Dragging his feet Roland placed the pile of money into your palm. Licking your thumb you flipped through it before handing over a small percentage.

“Finders fee.” You smirked softly, feeling your head beginning to clear.

Following the IV in your arm you recognized the mixture hanging above you. A combination of saline and nutrients. Glancing around it was obvious that you weren't the only casualty of today's surprising great escape. A handful of cots sat occupied in the dimness. Strangers with swollen ankles and knees, a man with a thick piece of gauze wrapped about his head. Even from this distance you could spot where the blood had began to seep through. On the cot nearest you Penny lay dozing with no sign of visual injuries. Gently pushing aside her red curls you couldn't help but chuckle as the drool ran down her cheek. For now she would be fine, the hangover wouldn't hit her till she woke up.

“Where's Zara?”

“Off sleeping I think. Took some skinny kid half an hour to convince her you'd be fine.” Roland replied. “Want me to go tell her you're up?”

“No let her rest.”

“They need you.” Roland's eyes again shifted to the ground as he spoke. “In the control room.”

“Why?” You asked, unsure as to why the Rebellion saw need to punish you so quickly. Sure, you had disobeyed a direct order which in itself wasn't a first, but no one had gotten seriously hurt. Minus the guard you had punched but he had it coming. You still had the scar beneath your hairline from where he had struck you long ago. That was well worth a week of messhall duty. Still, that wasn't an urgent matter, not enough to warrant a trip to the control room in the middle of a code black no less.

“The hell if I know.” Roland spit bitterly. He was an amazing soldier yet for all his military prowess he hated authority more than a hormonal teenager.  “Captain Andor ordered me to stay here and fetch ya as soon as you woke up so hop to it.”

“You do see the IV in my arm right?”

Licking his thumb and forefinger Roland reached forward, snatched the plastic butterfly wings on either side of the thin needle and slid it out from under your skin like a warrior drawing a sword.

“For fucks sake Roland!” You hissed, reaching up to smack the curly haired man across the back of the head. What had only moments before been a dull ache now stung white hot. “There's a reason people don't actually do that you jackass!”

A half roll of gauze and a handful of curses later Roland was escorting you through the dark tunnels that lead to the lowest level. To keep the temperature from spiking most everyone had been spread out among the various floors. The bunker itself had seven and at its heart sat the war council. The most highly concentrated area of people and still it did nothing to stave off the cold. By the time you made it through the beehive of workers busy at various consoles and tablets you could faintly see your breath in front of your face. Wrapping your arms around yourself you tried to find some degree of warmth. Dragging the sleeves of your jacket over the palms of your hands as Roland motioned you forward.  

“Baby...” Roland muttered, side eyeing you as you began to shiver.

“Not all of us have been blessed with blubber to keep us warm.” You replied, eyeing Roland's protruding gut. Typically you weren't one to shame a person for their body but considering this was the same man who had only minutes before ripped an IV from your arm, you found it in yourself to make an exception. Thankfully it shut him up, allowing you a few moments of silence before coming to a stop outside a large set of wooden double doors. Unlike most on base these had been built in the old style that swung inwardly rather than sliding open or closed.

“From here on out your on your own kid.” Roland leaned against the wall as he spoke, retrieving a small knife from his pocket he began to pic the dried grease out from under his fingernails.

Sighing you knocked on the old wood nervously. The door opened with a low groan, kicking up a whirl of dust around your feet as you slipped inside. The space was noticeably cooler, the mood even more so.

“Sargent L/N please come forward.” Mon Mothma spoke calmly as always. She was a decent and honorable woman but that didn't mean her composed demeanor wasn't hiding an ugly truth.

Perhaps they had finally decided you were too much of a liability.

Maybe this most recent act of defiance truly was the last straw.

Stepping forward into the dim light your eyes scanned the various faces for anyone who might speak on your behalf. Cassian's dark eyes found you instantly, as if your gaze had been magnetically drawn to him. He stood with his arms crossed, jaw tense as if he were grinding his teeth. Draven sat at the large wooden table that stood in the center of the room. A massive piece carved with the same script and symbols as the door behind you. It had likely been there as long as the temple itself. Standing strong for hundreds of years. You couldn't help but drag your fingers across the surface as you made you way to your seat. 

“We have serious matters to discuss.”

The edge to the ginger haired woman's tone might have upset you if it weren't for a sickening realization, one that washed over you like an icy wave.

“Where is Theodren?” You asked instantly, trying hard to hide the fear growing inside you. The silence that followed was no help, seconds ticking by like hours as you waited. “Where is-”

“We don't know.” Mon Mothma replied, her tone gentler than before yet straight to the point. No time for curtsies. “Commander Theodren had departed for Bakura shortly before we were alerted of an Imperial patrol entering our atmosphere. Until the code black has been lifted any attempts to contact him are impossible.”

It felt as if the floor had been ripped out from beneath you. That weightless feeling of falling that jolts you awake. Surely you must be dreaming. Your luck may have been notoriously bad but this was nightmarish. Grabbing a hold of the table for support you allowed your body to slump into the chair nearest you. Mon Mothma continued to speak, for how long you can't be sure, it wasn't until General Draven snapped his fingers in front of your face that your mind cleared. Glazed eyes blinking for the first time in minutes.

“Sergant L/N?” Mothma spoke calmly, holding out a hand to hush Draven as she stepped closer. The room was dim but it may as well have been pitch black. Even with eyes open you looked but did not see. It was only Theodren you thought of and the space where he should have stood. “You're bleeding.”

The words had no sooner left the woman's mouth when you felt the first drop collide with the back of your hand. Closing your eyes tightly you allowed a second and third to fall before reaching for the source. A stream of blood trailed from your right nostril. Stickily coating your fingertips and leaving the taste of metal on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye you watched as Cassian moved forward. His face calm and composed as ever. Before he could step any further you were already standing. Hand held firmly against your nose trying in vain to stem the flow. It made sense, your tears had long ago been used up, only blood remained to spare.

“I apologize...” You muttered, pushing yourself away from the table and towards the large doors you had came in through. They sprawled open rather easily at your touch. The chill of the room a distant memory as the heat bloomed at the base of your neck and began to spread. The mix of worry and fear enveloping you as you searched for an exit, not caring where it went. It was solitude you yearned for. A space of your own where you could internalize the wars currently raging between your head and your heart.

Sighing you spotted a door that led through yet another dark hallway. Pushing your way further down till the last door stood waiting. Without so much as a knock you let yourself in. The stale smell of dust and age rushing up to greet you as you stepped inside. Rows of empty shelves lined the walls. The pale light above flickering out as you settled to the floor.

You hadn't prayed in years. After everything you had done you doubted the anyone would pay you so much as a passing thought. Still, even as the cold seeped through your bones you found yourself murmuring the words. Blood stained hands held tightly together.

“I didn't know you prayed.”

“I don't-” You replied, red eyes adjusting to the small lantern the captain held in his hands. “not usually at least.”

“Neither do I.”

“Why not?”

“Because they were never answered.” Cassian's eyed you cautiously as he knelt in front of you. Noting that the bleeding that had provided you a perfect out had yet to stop. Sitting the lantern to the side Cassian dug his hands into his pocket, retrieving a clean rag he leaned forward to press it delicately around your nose.

“Mine were never answered either.” Your voice felt small as you reached forward, trying to take a hold of the rag yourself, expecting Cassian to let go yet he held on.

“What were you thinking?”

“Excuse me?”

There was no hiding the tone to your voice. It was one thing to question yourself. The last thing you needed right now was Cassian doing the same.

“I told you to stay where you were.” Cassian replied calmly, ignoring your weak attempt at an attitude.

“I never told you how my brother died, did I?” That caught him off guard. The frustration draining from his eyes as he gazed back at you. “Come to think of it, I'm not sure I ever mentioned him at all...”

Settling onto the floor with a thump Cassian let the rag slip from his grip. His expression gentler than before, clearly this new revelation was not what he had been expecting.

“His name was Willis I had just turned eight when he was born. I was so excited. I'd finally have a friend that I wouldn't have to say goodbye to after a few months...but mama died on the birthing bed so I had to step up. It wasn't easy, especially not at first. I was still just a kid myself, and a part of me hated him for taking my mother away, but that didn't last. He was too kind, too gentle to hate and he was so smart. He could be a real brat about it too, always correcting my spelling.” You chuckled lightly, losing yourself in a memory for one brief moment.

“He heard it first, woke me up. I thought he was just having another bad dream but then I heard it too. It all happened so fast, the chaos, the slaughter. It started in the outlying villages but it didn't take long to make its way into the city. All of the sudden they were in the streets, kicking down your door, coming through your front room window. That's when the exodus started. I had never seen anything like it. All around us the buildings were going up in flames. You could hear people screaming. I passed the body of the baker who had made my bread that morning lying in a gutter as we fled. His face was gone but I recognized his apron. It felt like we were at war.”

“Antar IV.” Cassian said quietly, turning his head to face you. “The massacre. You were there?”

Nodding you tried to steady your breathing. It had been years since you had spoken about that night and for good reason. Anytime it came up you felt your pulse quicken, the cold sweat forming on the back of your neck. As if some small part of you was forever trapped in the moment and just for a second it had pulled the rest of you under. Drowning you on dry land.

“I lost my father's hand in the crowd, my brother begged me to go back, but I had promised...so I didn't. I couldn't. I wanted to more than anything but I knew if I stopped, if I looked back we would both be lost. So I lied. I told him we would meet my father at the ship. The old man had been working on the same one for ages, kept it docked at this little hole in the wall station he worked at. I thought for sure by the time we got there all that would be left was ash and rubble but there it stood. No more than twenty yards away. I was moving so fast I didn't even see him until-”

You voice hitched in your throat with a weak shudder. The hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as you began to run your hands up and down your thighs.

“I begged him to let us go. We were just children. I swore to him we wouldn't tell anyone, not a soul, but he just put us in his sights.” Turning your eyes to the ceiling you were happy not to have to look at Cassian's face as he heard what came next. “I tried to move Willis out of the way, but he had twisted his ankle during the run and I was carrying him. All I could do was turn around, try to cover him with myself but it didn't make any difference. That fucker cut us down like we were nothing.”

“How did you survive?” Cassian asked softly.

“I drove a screw driver through his eye and out the back of his skull.” You replied coolly, the sadness in your voice replaced with an entirely different emotion. “The first life I ever took and it didn't even matter. Willis died anyways. He bleed out in my arms. One second he was crying and trying to say something and then he just...went still. I had never seen someone die before but I watched as the spark drained from my brothers eyes, and that pain...”

Again you had to stop, try to calm your thumping heart as it pounded away against your chest. There was a reason you avoided this subject. It was always painful to speak of, but now with Theodren's fate so uncertain it only served to frighten you more. To remind you of what it felt like to lose someone you love.

“I didn't think I'd ever get over it so I locked that part of me away. Stopped caring about everything and everyone.”

Across from you Cassian shifted, leaning his back against the wall as he took in all you had to say. Not entirely sure if he should be relieved that you were sharing so much with him or worried. Crossing his arms to stave off the chill he watched as you fidgeted with your hands, pulling at the edges of your sleeves, tucking those relentless loose curls behind your ears. His own hands itched to reach out, take a hold of your own and still them but he thought better of it. Now wasn't the time.  

“I didn't join the Rebellion because I wanted to be a hero Cassian. I didn't give a damn about glory. A quick death was all I wanted, but then I met Theodren, and he was alone too. He was the only one that ever...he was my one true friend. I lost him once already, I don't want to lose him again.”

“You won't.” Cassian said with a bit too much certainty, overcompensating in his hopes of comforting you. “Theodren is the smartest person I know. I'm sure once this code black has lifted you'll hear from him.”

“Why are you here Cassian?” You asked suddenly, the urge to be alone over powering your usual politeness.

“I was worried about you.” He replied, not defensive in the least. A welcome surprise given your own change in demeanor.  “Didn't want you to be alone.”

“I appreciate that Cassian, truly I do, but you don't have to worry about me.” You stated, maintaining your full attention on him. Noting the subtle change in the distance between the two of you. Typically the captain preferred to put added space between the both of you yet today seemed the expectation.

“Look, I worry.” He stated simply, laying his hand out flat in a gesture to simply accept that fact and let it go. “Just promise me you won't do anything stupid.”

“Cass I-” Chewing your bottom lip you considered lying, it would be easiest for everyone but Cassian deserved the truth. “It's Theodren, if there is even a small chance I have to try.”

“Are you in love with him?” Cassian asked, his eyes glued intensely to your own.

“Who?” You scoffed. “Theodren?”

The dark haired rebel nodded sheepishly and in that moment you could have kissed him because despite everything that had happened Cassian had managed to do the unthinkable. He made you laugh. No sweeter a gift could he have given you in that moment.

“What?” You half chuckled, the very idea of it still tickling your sides. Not that Theodren wasn't a catch, it was just so far removed from anything you could have imagined. The two of you had been best friends for years and not once had there been even an inkling of romance. “No! Of course I love him but Theodren is like family to me.”

“I understand.”

“Are you alright?” You asked, watching as Cassian began to draw in on himself. Scooting himself to sit with his back straight and flush against the wall. Hands swiftly shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

“I'm fine.” He replied but you simply shook your head. How the hell was this guy a spy?

“You're a shitty liar you know that.” You nudged Cassian's knee with your foot as you spoke. Thankful that the tension had for a moment been lessened enough to catch your breath.

“Only with you.” His answer was short but it was enough to return the tension tenfold.

Whelp, that didn't last long...

“And that bothers you?”

“I'd be a fool if it didn't.” Cassian's brows knitted as he spoke, looking any where but at you.

“Why?” Leaning forward you grabbed a hold of Cassian's hand and squeezed it tightly. “What's so wrong with being honest with me?”

“You're always saving people.” Cassian said simply, at last turning his gaze to meet your own.

“What-”

“Just-just listen.” He insisted calmly and you couldn't blame him. You were well aware of your bad habit of interrupting people. It wasn't that you were rude, some people just spoke so slowly by comparison.

“You're always saving people. You saved Zara, you saved Roland, hell you saved me the night we met. Its who you are.” Sighing Cassian let his eyes drift to where your fingers sat wrapped around his own. Your knees inching closer, unwilling to give in to his poor attempt at gaining distance.  

“When I came down here I wanted to yell at you, to tell you that you were being foolish, convince you to stop...but I can't because that's not you.” Shaking his head Cassian smiled gently, his eyes warmer than before. Filled with an emotion you couldn't quite peg down but you were all too aware of how it made you feel.

“What's so wrong with that?” You half whispered.

“Nothing.” Cassian answered, turning your hand over in his own. Fingertips softly tracing along the lines of your palm. “Nothing, it just frightens me.”

“Cass I'm fine, seriously you don't have to worry-” You tried to put on your best smile as you spoke. If Cassian truly worried about you the least you could do was assure him you would try your best to stay alive. It was a bit of a priority anyways but if it mattered to someone else why not try harder?

Even if you weren't sure how to feel about it.

“And what if you weren't?” He asked sharply, turning the tables and instead interrupting you. “I know why you went back for Zara. I know why you want to go after Theodren. Because what if something happens and you could have done something but didn't? Then that's on you right? But if you go back and something happens to you then that's on me.”

“I'm not your responsibility anymore.” 

“It's not like that.”

“Then what is it?” You pushed, trying to hide the faintest hint of desperation in your voice. As if months of second guessing had inevitability lead you here. “What are you so afraid of Cassian?”

“You want to know what I'm afraid of?” Cassian eyes burned as he leaned closer, bursting the tiny bubble of personal space that existed between the two of you. “Losing you.”

And there it was. The truth you had been running from. It wasn't often that you felt vulnerable. It wasn't the sort of thing you were allowed, not if you wanted to stay alive.

“Your turn, no bullshit this time.” Cassian said, his mouth twitching as he spoke.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose you allowed yourself a moment of rational thought. To think of how very wrong this may all go. How much you could stand to lose, but that moment ended.

Unblinking you watched as Cassian's eyes flickered with longing. Something you only now realized had been there all along. They continued to follow your every move, watching as you inched closer until your knee dug into his thigh. Trembled and shifted. A pale hand snaking its way along the back of his neck. For a moment Cassian felt as if his brain had stalled, unable to process what was happening like a teenager second guessing themselves, but then you kissed him, putting those fears to rest in an instant. It was everything he had remembered from that night many months ago when he had first stolen a taste. 

Only now there was no limit. No hesitance.

It surprised you as well, how easily you melted into his grasp. Calloused hands swept along your sides until your shirt began to bunch between his fingers. The touch of his skin burning as it grazed your own. Feather light fingers threading through your hair as he pressed you against him.

Sometime later after you finally gave in to the need for oxygen did you allow the reality of what had just happened sink in. The terrifyingly true severity of it washing over you all at once. Still, it was impossible not to smile and lean into the palm of Cassian's hand as he held you close. Foreheads pressed against one another. So close you could feel his every exhale on your skin.