Jerking the boy away from the hive quickly by wrapping him up in one arm
to shield him with his own body, Yan sent the hive and the wasps it
contained flying into the lake with a strong Force shove before more
harm could be done though the thing had already done more than enough
harm in his eyes as he turned his eyes to Obi-Wan.
The young padawan’s eyes were tightly closed and his jaw gritted as he held his left cheek, tears clinging to his eyelashes.
He’d been stung.
Of
course he had been stung and Qui-Gon was still with the native clan
leaders trying to negotiate for information about the terrorists who had
marched through with the explosives stolen from the warehouses of the
Empress army.
Which left Yan with Obi-Wan.
“Let me see,” He rumbled out, closing his hand around the boy’s wrist to carefully tug it away.
Obi-Wan
managed to stifle a tiny sob and obeyed but it was clear he was in
severe pain, his cheek already swelling heavily and turning a bright red
as Yan stared at it. Swallowing down the curse that wanted to escape
him, Yan touched the swelling area gently with his fingertips to check
if the stinger was still in, murmuring in apology when Obi-Wan flinched
at the touch. “Are you allergic to wasp sting Obi-Wan? To any insects at
all?” He questioned hurriedly.
Breath hitching, Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer but ended up letting out a sob instead before shaking his head as answer.
Well that was something.
He wasn’t allergic but to be stung in the face by such large insects…
Lifting
Obi-Wan up into his arms, Yan marched towards the camp they had set up
only hours earlier. “Its going alright Obi-Wan, I’ll make sure you’re
going to be alright.” Yan murmured soothingly as he knew better than to
panic.
If he panicked, Obi-Wan would panic.
Remaining calm was the only thing for it and it would make it easier to treat Obi-Wan.
The
boy clenched his hands into Yan’s chest, bunching the tunic as he
continued fighting against the pain with fat tears rolling down his
cheeks.
But he doesn’t make a noise as Yan finally sets him down
outside the tent and brings out the medkit. Yan’s not sure that’s such a
good thing, for a young teenager to decide to just bare the pain
without any noise.
‘At least he’s letting himself cry… or maybe
he just can’t stop.’ Yan wondered as the tears continued rolling down
flushed cheeks as the boy watched Yan ruffle through the medkit, his
hands fisted into the hem of his tunic to avoid touching his swelling,
red cheek.
Finding the correct tube of medical cream along with a container of analgesic patches, Yan turned back to Obi-Wan.
He
meet pained green eyes, softening at the sight as it reminded him so
much of Qui-Gon when the boy had sprained his wrist when he was still a
young padawan instead of the knight of today. “This is cooling bacta
cream that will prevent infection and heal up the sting site,” Yan
murmured, keeping his tone low and even before holding up the patch.
“And this will take care of most of the pain. I’m going to put the patch
on your neck but you’re going to need to let me touch your cheek to put
on the cream.” He finished up and waited until Obi-Wan gave a hiccuping
nod. “Good boy.” He praised, shifting closer on his knees.
Patch
secured on the pale neck, Yan got a dollop of cream on his fingers
before tilting Obi-Wan’s head with a grasp on the padawan’s clefted chin
with his clean hand.
At the touch, Obi-Wan once more flinched, a
direct sob escaping him as Yan rumbled out soothing nonsense while
slowly dabbing the cream to the sting site while Obi-Wan flinched in his
grasp but didn’t outright try to escape.
Finally done, Yan wiped
his hand on the grass and pulled Obi-Wan to his chest, Yan ran his
clean fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair. “That’s a boy, you did so good
Obi-Wan and its going to get better now, I promise,” He murmured.
Obi-Wan sniffled heavily, hands still clenched in his tunic hem but he
wasn’t gritting his teeth anymore as he pressed his unstung, wet from
tears cheek to Yan’s chest, his body begging to be held for comfort that
Yan was not about to deny him. “Now, I need you to tell me if it
doesn’t get better alright, if you feel nauseous or in more pain then I
need to take you to a medic. You will tell me if you become worse,
right?” Yan needed some reassurance of his own.
There was a loud swallowing noise before Obi-Wan nodded into the warm chest.
“Good,
good. For now just try to relax. Try meditating if you can but its
alright if you can’t.” Yan held around the boy, stroking his hair
slowly.
Standing frozen in the bedroom doorway, Obi-Wan stared at the other two
inhabitants of the quarters as they were each hiding behind a squishy
couch, giggling like younglings on a sugar rush with bowls in their
arms.
But that wasn’t what had frozen Obi-Wan, oh no he was used
to Ahsoka and Anakin acting like five year olds at times and honestly he
didn’t mind it as laughter was good for the soul and the system,
especially in this war.
No what had taken Obi-Wan totally of
guard was the sight of magnets stuck to Anakin and Ahsoka’s right mech
arms, Anakin’s leather glove on the caff table.
As he watched,
the two popped up from each their couch and threw magnets from their
bowls at the other, their demented giggling turning into delighted
squeals as they hit each other, Ahsoka managing to score what looked
like the fifth hit on Anakin’s arm and Anakin missing Ahsoka fully with
the magnet hitting somewhere behind the togruta as she ducked back down
behind the couch.
Lips twitching, Obi-Wan settled against the bedroom doorway to watch the little battle.
It was nice to see them like this.
After Ahsoka lost her arm on Onderon she had sunken into a slight depression as she wasn’t as able as she used to be.
Or so she felt.
But
then they had managed to come home and the council had formally
acknowledged that the loss of his arm was now the trial of flesh for
Ahsoka and Anakin had quietly taken her to the Halls where Ahsoka had
gotten the choice to be outfitted with a neural patchwork on her stump
so she could have a prosthetic as her master had.
Two days later
Anakin had personally built her an arm, making sure it functioned better
than anything they could buy, tuning it carefully and making sure the
sleek silver arm would be easy for Ahsoka to care for.
Ahsoka was
still uncertain about perhaps getting a dermal covering but for now it
was bare, showing off Anakin’s clear skill of machine and metalwork.
Ahsoka had started her recovery, learning to use her new arm and it was still ongoing but…
Looking
at them now you wouldn’t know that and Obi-Wan felt his lips twitches
turn into a soft, tender smile as the two continued to pelt each other
with magnets, all of them shaped like colorful fruits.
“You’re
going down Skyguy!” Ahsoka cried out, popping out with a handful of
magnets in her flesh hand and her fangs flashing with her wide grin.
“You
first Snips!” Anakin didn’t pop up over the back of the couch but from
the side, the magnets not coming from his hand but coming zooming like
little projectiles from the bowl directly.
Squeaking, Ahsoka held up her bowl to catch them. “Ah! Cheating! We agreed no Force use!” She yelped.
“All
is fair in love and war!” Anakin cackled evilly before crying out in
shock when Ahsoka jumped over the couch to come for him. “Hey!”
“Love
and war!” Ahsoka cried out as her battle call before tackling her
master, the human’s bowl flying and raining down its magnets all around
the apartment as Ahsoka turned her own bowl on Anakin and dumped the
content on him.
Most of the magnets fell off him when Anakin bucked his padawan off him but quite a few remained stuck to his arm too.
Before everything could escolate as Anakin tried to snatch magnets off the floor to throw, Obi-Wan cleared his throat.
Both
younger Jedi froze and turned to him, turning sheepish in the face of
his amusement. “I see you two managed to entertain yourself while I
napped.” He drawled out dryly.
To that they only laughed sheepishly, apologized and then started to clean up.
Chuckling,
Obi-Wan shook his head and straightened. “I’ll make some tea and hot
chocolate for us.” He said, hiding his joy over both of their happiness
as he instead padded to the kitchenette and ignored their wide grins and
the metal high five that had magnets falling to the floor.
Its the easiest way to explain his current behavior, not that anyone expected better. Hell, Paz had honestly worried it be a lot worse, dam’s that lost their kits, willingly or not, would often enter depressive episodes.
The fact that Din slept, woke up, used the fresher and ate without too much prompting was something he would not take for granted, even as he often found himself holding the others hand or tucking the omega into his own bulk to provide whatever comfort he could give.
A lot of omegas lost interest in life at the loss of a child, their packs often becoming more caretakers than family during the time it took for the person to heal.
If they healed.
Paz didn’t allow his mind to linger on that thought, Din had always been strong and Paz couldn’t let himself believe that Din strength would fail him now. That he would fade away from life.
It hurt to think.
Which was why Paz focus was on Din and Din alone.
Slave 1 wasn’t a spacious ship with four people on, Fett of course having his own quarters and Shand what went for a ‘guest’ quarters. Thankfully, recognizing the need, Fett had also arranged for a room Paz suspected had once been a weapon room for the two mandalorians, giving them privacy.
Not that he seemed to like leaving Din alone with Paz in his current situation but it was clear by the way Din clung to the alpha that he needed Paz.
So he and Din shared bunk and sheets, the two wrapped up in each other.
Mostly, Paz slept with Din covered up under his bulk, his helm pressed to the others back or his chin touching the back of Din’s helmet. Sometimes however, Din opted to curl up on Paz chest, pressing his head to Paz collarbone.
The sensation of another person, not in armor, was a luxury and Paz wasn’t quite sure what to feel about getting it on a ship that did not belong to the covert.
But, seeing as Boba and Din were starting to smell of each other, of the foundation of a pack, he didn’t complain.
Especially not when Fett had given them a door that could lock.
Currently, they were on their way to Tatooine, something about settling old scores according to the scarred alpha, a feral look in his eyes as he mentioned someone called Jabba’s palace.
The planet and person’s name had roused Din slightly, his hand tightening on Paz as he quietly murmured that he had a few jobs there.
If asked, Paz would say he was grateful he had never meet this Jabba character from what Shand and Fett filled him in on.
But…
A palace, overthrowing the ones that had it, taking over a cartel…
Paz had to admit, it was a good idea, it would certainly be a distraction for Din. Because for all that he simply existed instead of lived, Din could still fight as their sparring in the cargo hold some days proved.
Work out a bit of rage, maybe some sadness and maybe Din would finally start talking again.
Din tried but…
Paz understood.
He really did, it was why he simply held onto Din’s hand during the day or wrapped his arm around the others waist and during the night, wrapped himself around Din’s body.
Like tonight, laying on the bed in one of those few days Din decided to curl up on Paz chest.
Absently stroking the others warm back, staring at the dark ceiling without a thought in his head, Paz almost jumped when Din suddenly spoke.
“I took my helmet off.” He whispered.
Paz pressed his hand to Din’s spine, his mind taking in the words before he directed his arms to wrap slowly around Din’s tense body, the large shirt the beroya was borrowing for sleep shifting under his touch. “Our way is not the Only Way.” He stated slowly, uncertainly. It had been one of the stranger things he had been required to accept when he got out of the covert, meeting other mandalorians and he was already aware that Din had removed his helmet.
Dune had informed him, both on a planet called Morak and on the moff’s ship and why Din had removed his helmet.
So far, none of the other mandalorians he had meet followed the same Way as their covert did and Paz wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, what it said about not only their alor but also their Armorer, for teaching the Way as they did.
If there were other interpretations, that meant there were other ways to live, easier ways.
Not that Paz was sure about them, the way he had been raised fighting against the new things he had seen.
Paz felt Din nod into his collarbone. “Meet some of them… Boba says he’s not mandalorian but… by birth he is…” He trailed off.
Sighing softly, hugging Din tightly, Paz rumbled softly. “If you expect me to judge you verd’ika, that is not my place. Not when I’m so lost myself.” He stated softly, feeling Din body go even tenser and then lax against his chest.
Nuzzling their heads together in a light mirshmure’cya, Paz thought it over as Din played with the lose opening of Paz shirt.
“If you want to know what I think about you removing your helmet however,” Din went ramrod stiff in his arms, even as Paz started rubbing his back slowly in their dark, makeshift room. “I would tell you that foundlings are the future, it is for them we sacrifice. So in my eyes… you are our beroya, more honorable than most can imagine, worth your weight in beskar.” He rumbled reverently as he continued slowly rubbing.
He felt Din hold his breath, saw him through the dim view of his helmet that the omega lifted his head so their visors meet.
For a long moment they simply stared at each other, Din waiting on Paz to tell him he was lying and Paz simply waiting on Din to accept what he had said.
Finally, Din let out a tired, but relieved little sob and flopped back down, pressing his body warm helmet to Paz shoulder.
Din had been crying more this last week than Paz imagined he ever had before, but this was a different sort of crying than the heartbroken one.
This was the cries of someone that had found balm for their heart, for something that had been weighing on their mind.
“Gar cuyir oyayc, Ni cuy’ olar. Ni’ cuy’ olar.” Paz rumbled, hoping that tomorrow would bring Din more succor for his soul and troubled mind.
Beroya = bounty hunter
Verd’ika = Little soldier
Mirshmure’cya = Keldable kiss or headbutt, can be affectionate or violent
Gar cuyir oyayc, Ni cuy’ olar = you are alive, I am here.
Staring at the package on the bed as if it was a snake that could bite him, Maul warily glanced around the room that was supposedly his.
Or so alpha said.
Obi-Wan, as he insisted. Maul couldn’t quite do that though, it wasn’t in his nature or his instincts, when any moment he expected the other shoe to drop.
Because that was what all this felt like, a grand production of carrot and stick, or well, meat in Maul’s instance. He could eat vegetables like any zabrak but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it, he was a damn carnivore.
Not to mention the wolf inside of him.
But so far, outside of a few angry looks by Jedi in the corridors and whispered mean words, no one had done anything, least of all his alpha or the pack he had been pulled into. The old Jedi even made him tea from Dathomir, an import the man had claimed with a small laugh as he poured cups for all of them from a pot.
Maul had of course waited until the two other had drank first before daring to drink too, he wasn’t about to be poisoned but…
Nothing happened. The tea was safe.
He had a room, he was fed, he trained with his alpha and the pack Jedi in a salle, stayed in the quarters of his alpha and kept himself entertained.
Weeks after being beaten to submission and nothing had yet to happen, Maul expecting an assassin in the night from Sidious or for another Jedi outside of the pack to attack him. But there had been nothing.
Of course, that didn’t mean that most were happy he was there.
The Jedi council had looked like they were ready to jail him the moment they met him on Naboo and the rest of the Jedi temple was far from kind to him. But no one had harmed him, so compared to Sidious, Maul was living better than ever with regular food, no punishments and even the ability to come and go around the temple should he wish.
So why was Maul so leery about the package sitting so innocently on his bed?
It was clearly from his alpha, Maul could smell that, Kenobi’s scent was all over it and fresh, meaning it would have been picked up today.
Gray wrapping paper, tied of with some kind of string in a similar gray shade, resting on his nicely made bed.
Finally forcing himself forward, Maul tugged on the string gingerly until it came undone so he could push the paper aside, even as his mind kept going through what in the world was inside the package.
It wasn’t big, nor was it heavy, it didn’t press the sheets in with its weight but it had mass to it, so what in th-
Maul froze, staring at the contents.
Clothes.
Black leggings, some black socks, black underwear, shirts and tunics. The tunics and shirts came in black but also a deep red and one lovely midnight blue one.
Unable to resist, Maul reached out and ran his fingertips along the blue one, his breath catching slightly as he felt the silky fabric under his finger tips. But more than that, Maul noticed a glint of gold on the blue.
Embroidered onto the collar, one on each side, was a golden profile of a wolf head.
The blue tunic one was made of silk, of fine quality and make and Maul stared at it for a long moment of sheer confusion and stifled fear, only moving when he heard his door open, turning his head quickly to look.
Obi-Wan stood there, peering at him in concern but not stepping inside. “Are you alright Maul? I felt some conflicting emotions,” His eyes fell to Maul’s hands and perked up a bit. “Oh, I see you found the clothes.” He stated a tad more cheerfully.
Maul mouth felt dry but he forced himself to speech still. “What is… this?” He questioned slowly, keeping his voice low as he avoided his alpha’s eyes, not wanting to challenge the man when he already felt unbalanced.
Obi-Wan cocked his head in return. “Well, you didn’t have clothes, you’ve been wearing the same things since Naboo. I went to the quartermaster and picked up some clothes in your size. Just some though, in case they weren’t to your liking, so you had something to wear until we could buy more,” He explained before frowning. “I… are they not to your liking?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice sounding worried, shoulders hunching slightly.
Maul stood there, feeling lost.
Sidious had rarely extended the curtsy of fetching him anything, once Maul had gotten old enough, Sidious had simply handed him credits to buy what he needed or sent his droids.
Yet his new alpha, this Jedi, the ancient enemies of Sith, had gone out of his way to pick out clothes for Maul. The toiletries had been sorted the first day but clothes…
These were his clothes now.
Swallowing slightly, Maul turned his head back, his fingers still on the blue tunic. “No… no I like them…” He stated quietly, hunching slightly at the warmth and happiness lighting up the Force behind him.
SWpromptsandask 