Angst

ok i need to know if Rex can save Cody in te continuation of docile doll and some aftermats of the drug used in Obi and Vader dying of anger

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There is something extremely cathartic to be able to share Obi-Wan’s bed.

To be able to watch him breath slowly and steadily, his lined face at peace and almost young looking despite the grey at his temple and in his beard as he breathes slowly and steadily, a slight snore escaping him.

When Obi-Wan, shyly and a tad uncertain, had asked if Rex wanted to share quarters…

Well, Rex had been honored and relieved.

He knew the other had nightmares often and the idea of being able to keep an eye on his boyfriend, to help him work through the nightmares…

Well, he had jumped on the offer, knowing how difficult it had been for Obi-Wan after everything he had been put through by Vader. For the other to share himself like this again, to share bed and intimate space with someone, it was a huge step and Rex knew it.

It was why he had been stunned and happy when Obi-Wan had slowly drawn him into bed and curled into him, resting his head on the blond’s collarbone while tucking his own leg between Rex’s own.

From the looks of it, he had slept well from what Rex saw, the two sleeping face to face, having shifted in the night.

Unable to resist, Rex reached out to push the others hair out of his face, teasing the strands behind his ear.

Playing slowly with the growing length of hair, Rex couldn’t help but smile at the other’s sleeping face.

Obi-Wan was so stressed or lost often, ever since order 66 and his stint as Vader’s ‘doll’ and seeing this, seeing how him relaxed, soft, warm and pliant, was a gift to be treasured.

Some days, Rex couldn’t help but wonder how he, a clone, could be granted this.

If it should have been anyone, it should have been Cody, who had worked the closest with Obi-Wan.

‘But he’s not here, not yet. And Obi-Wan…’ Rex had always harbored some feelings for the redheaded Jedi. But in the war, he had put it aside and simply kept onto his fondness for the man while being professional.

Now there was no GAR, they were no longer an army and they did not follow the Rebellion after they had tried to use Obi-Wan.

Rex would never work with someone that had been willing to trade Obi-Wan back to Vader, nor would any other clone that was free and that had ever been in contact with the Jedi.

“…I can feel you staring at me.” Obi-Wan’s sleep rasped voice brought Rex out of his thoughts and he chuckled softly, resting his hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek as green eyes flickered open to peer sleepily at him, Obi-Wan smiling softly.

“Good morning.” Rex murmured quietly, not wanting to break the soft, slow moment of the morning schedule of their ship.

“Mmmn… morning.” Obi-Wan sighed happily, shifting closer to Rex. He slid a heavy, warm arm around Rex waist, tugging him in.

Willingly, Rex went, their knees knocking together lightly as they curled up chest to chest, head on their respective pillows. They really should be getting up, they had duties to preform on Homebase and breakfast to eat before that but…

To just lay there, in their bed, sharing the warmth and comfort was a luxury Rex intended to enjoy.

“Your hair is getting long.” He noted softly, teasing his fingers through the copper lengths.

The words got a quiet laugh, Obi-Wan reaching out to tease Rex hair in return, a grin growing on his face. “So is yours… do you like it?” He wondered curiously.

“Mine or yours?” Rex hummed, smirking slightly at the wry look he got in return. “I have to say, I don’t mind it. While in the GAR, it was just easier to just buzz it but now…” Rex shrugged, smiling happily. “I do like yours too though, it suits you.” He twirled the lock of hair around his finger.

Obi-Wan sighed happily at the touch, humming happily. “Well, if you want a haircut, just tell me.” He stated a tad dreamily and Rex felt a stab in his stomach.

‘It should be Cody here, having this, getting this offer…’ Guilt and love warred in him as he pulled the other to him and held onto Obi-Wan, nuzzling slowly.

the need for touch, are they settling into the palace now? how is din? is paz courting him?

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According to Fett, the former Hutt palace was a skughole but…

Honestly, as Paz got to enjoy a water shower on a timer, he had to say that ever since they had to flee Mandalore, he hadn’t been in a more luxurious place than he was that moment.

Maybe Din had, Din was their beroya, he traveled the galaxy but from what he had learned from Din, he often opted to stay in his ship, the destroyed Razor Crest he used to have.

This palace, now Fett Palace despite the alpha’s strained hold on it for now, had actual food to feed an army, could have fed the entire Covert for at least a week or two. It had water for days, fresh, clean water, enough to take literal water showers and on a planet like Tatooine, that was a luxury few could afford.

Paz had seen the water vapors behind the palace of course, he imagined that most of the water for the shower came from those. He had heard one of the working people Fett had hired in say that the water that collected in those vapors weren’t good for drinking.

Something about the positions of the vapors and a mist?

Chemicals in the ground?

But it was fine for showering and if you cooked it first, boiled it safe, you could still drink it and use it for food prep.

Fett however seemed content to use it for showering.

Fennec had told Paz that his and Din’s room were actually one of the few with the connection to the water line. It wasn’t for everyone and it made Paz once more grateful to the alpha for providing such a luxury.

Din… needed it.

Taking a shower in your helmet was never fun with a sonic, it tended to leave you rattled and Paz had managed to gently coax the other into the shower after a day when the funk of his kute started to layer.

Not something he was used to from the beroya, the covert as a people used to wearing armor all the time were hygienic by necessity, no one wanted to smell like a hutt on a warm day after all. But with the lack of his child, Din…

Well, he ate, he drank, sparred with either him, Fennec or Fett with a tad of coaxing and he moved on his own, Paz wasn’t going to ask for miracles.

Helping the other shower hadn’t been bad either.

They both kept on their helmet and shorts, both of them a tad awkward over the nudity despite Paz desire to court the other. But with the shorts on, it was easier, carefully washing Din’s back, arms, chest and legs.

The only strange time had been when Paz lingered on the others scent and bonding glands, Din turning still beneath his touch as Paz fingertips stroked slowly over the warm, slightly swollen areas.

Paz had wondered then, if he took of his helmet, would Din have too?

But the moment had passed and Paz had quietly pulled back, telling Din that he was stepping out so Din could wash his hair on his own.

Having removed his helmet for his child, well, as Paz said, the foundlings were the future. To remove it now…

Din would have to figure out his own balance, his own stride and path.

Just like Paz was doing.

The Covert, their covert, was no more, they had to start anew and coming out into the world, Paz had learned there were more options, more ways of being a mandalorian. Ways that seemed… not easier but maybe more fulfilling?

It would certainly make touch starvation easier to handle he mused to himself as he tipped his head up to rinse the soap out of his hair, hearing the beep of his timer. That meant there was five minutes left of water.

Best rinse everything, so he didn’t have to take a sonic too.

Mentally sighing, Paz worked swiftly, rinsing out all soap from skin and hair, rubbing at his curling hair.

Then he paused, the tight curls of his hair around his fingers, the image of Din sitting on the bed, Paz in front of him on the floor, letting Din braid his hair. The image made his mouth dry, staring thoughtlessly at the shower tiles as the water continued spraying down on him.

It was a… domestic thought and image and Paz could swear he could almost feel Din’s hands in his hair, the omega’s slender hands would be good for braiding, he’d seen the other do it for some of the younglings of the covert sometimes.

Gentle fingers, low humming of a battle song, Paz leaning back into the touch he could almost feel despite being in the shower, the scene so real in his head.

Paz let his eyes close, savoring the mental image even as his mind didn’t provide Din a face.

He knew enough to know that Din’s skin was a beautiful and natural tan from his hands and that he had rich brown hair that was at least long enough to curl around his ears, the hairs left om the hairbrush giving him that info.

The details of the other’s face was left vague, but his voice, the feel of gentle but skilled fingers, the touch of calluses from weapon training…

Beroya = Bounty Hunter

for distant pain, does obi-wan ever confront the council (or maybe anakin or qui-gon) about ashoka’s presence in the battlefield? or does he work it out some other way? maybe some protective obi-wan and him bonding with ashoka? (this is such a great series, i’m in love with your writing Ɛ>)

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Admittedly, Obi-Wan was avoiding the girl.

Though if asked, he would deny it and claim he was busy and it wasn’t like she was generally in the same area as him.

Mostly because Obi-Wan could sense her and easily managed to avoid going where she was for the most part.

She brought up unpleasant memories and feelings for him, feelings he’d rather not have to confront while he was still preparing to tear into the rest of the council. Or rather, one council member.

Yoda.

His top lip curled as he thought of his grandmaster and all the little threads the old man had pulled on for too many years.

From learning that the old man had managed to send people away from Initiate Kenobi, to reserve him for Jinn when the man didn’t even want a padawan, to many actions throughout Obi-Wan’s youth, to Naboo and then this.

A young padawan, an underage padawan, in the active war zones.

They couldn’t stop masters from taking padawans, that wasn’t how the Jedi worked, but they were suppose to be left behind from the active and terrible war zones.

Ahsoka Tano was underage by the definition of her race, as a togruta she had to be seventeen as togrutas matured slightly quicker than most human races.

Not to mention that she was Anakin Skywalker’s padawan.

One of the most active Jedi General’s in the entire war, being in the thickest of fights.

The things she would have seen, the amount of lives she would have felt be lost…

Obi-Wan fought the urge to vomit, Cerasi’s empty eyes flashing in his mind.

‘What the hell am I suppose to do?’ He buried head in his arms, ignoring the sensations of the troopers concern floating around him. Being in the mess tent was honestly easier than being anywhere else, the amount of people around him thankfully distracting.

Plus, the troopers always made him feel better.

Their presence was soothing.

It didn’t quite bring his mind of the fact that his own fucking great grandmaster had sent an underage padawan to one of the most active war generals. Anakin Skywalker couldn’t keep her trapped on the ship at all times.

Hell, he knew from Depa that she unfortunately had to bring her padawan with her.

Young Caleb was also a minor, but Depa tried to shield him, leave him on the ship or in camp if possible.

She didn’t actively bring him into the thickest of the fights she was in and Depa was also delegated to smaller battles, more a General placed to hold positions once a planet was won, partly in due to her previous injuries and the coma she had been in.

‘What is he thinking!?’ Obi-Wan bit at his bottom lip so hard it started bleeding, grunting slightly at the pain. He ignored Cotton’s worried chirping in his ear, the little insistent nudging at his cheek and ear as she tried to get his attention.

He was too busy thinking.

Obi-Wan couldn’t understand what in the world Yoda was thinking.

He cared about the young of the Jedi order, he always had, he wouldn’t risk them needlessly and by sending Ahsoka Tano to Anakin Skywalker, he was clearly risking her life.

That was the sticking point of it all, the who she was sent to.

The most active of the Jedi Generals they had become, someone close to the Chancellor, who accepted or was sent to some of the most dangerous battlefields of the entire war. Well, at least the public side of the war.

There were the blackops missions, the secret ones, that the public didn’t get to know.

Some of those were even more dangerous.

But Obi-Wan had never brought anyone with him that was underage for those, hell, he even made Zuru stay back for those.

He had never been comfortable with the GAR but understood the need, despite how suspicious their origins were.

So he made sure to leave Zuru in places he would be safe, kept him out of the worst lines of fire if possible and made Zuru simply deliver him or pick him up most of the time.  

“General?” A low, warm voice interrupted Obi-Wan’s circling thoughts. A voice Obi-Wan had started to listen to, even if he consciously didn’t realize it and therefore, he raised his head to blink up at Commander Cody.

The man smiled back at him and sat a cup down in front of the Jedi. Picking up the cup, Obi-Wan blinked into it for a moment then looked up at Cody in surprise. “This is…” He trailed off, too shocked to finish his sentence.

Cody’s smile grew a tad. “Spicy starva tea, Zuru told me you enjoy drinking it,” The commander nodded a tad. “Said it helped with your appetite and that you also enjoyed the flavor.” He tacked on.

Nodding slowly, Obi-Wan took a small sip of it, letting the flavor wash over his tongue. “How?” He wondered.

Spicy starva was from Stewjon and the export of it had become restricted before even the war due to the strict regulations of Stewjon itself.

To have it now…

He couldn’t help but smile, Cotton nuzzling up under his ear as her friend’s mood lifted slightly. “Thank you Cody, this… this is a rare treat for me.” He murmured quietly, looking up at him.

Cody’s lips quirked slightly. “You’re welcome… and there’s a cuddle puddle tonight, just so you know.” He tacked on a wink for Obi-Wan before saluting and making his way to the tent flaps.

‘A cuddle puddle? They consider this area safe then?’ Obi-Wan blew on the tea as he mulled over it, taking a small sip to savor the tea. ‘…It tastes like…’ Smiling into the cup, Obi-Wan settled with the warm weight of Cotton around the neck.

Dangerousgalaxy is Obi-Wan okay?

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Tucking the blanket around himself as he stuck his feet into his slippers, Obi-Wan glanced around his room before carefully getting up. The last few days had not been the best and while unfortunate an unfamiliar it was still uncomfortable to learn that he had contracted chlamydia from the latest stint at the Senate.

‘Thankfully it takes me off the list for a good two week as I recover and take my antibiotic.’ Obi-Wan mused tiredly and a tad guilty as he padded out into the living room, smiling slightly as he took note of Anakin making breakfast while quietly chatting with Ahsoka. “Good morning.” He called out.

Both jumped a tad before smiling in return, though Anakin flickered his eyes searchingly over Obi-Wan for a moment. “Good morning master, how are you feeling?” He questioned, flipping on the water boiler since he was right beside it.

Sitting slowly down at the kitchen table, reaching out to rub Ahsoka’s monterals affectionately, Obi-Wan let out a small hum. “Tad achy.” He confessed quietly. He had long ago learned that lying bold faced to Anakin was a bad idea when it came to any STD’s he picked up.

It generally came back to bite him as Anakin always figured it out.

Anakin frowned but nodded with understanding. “Lets eat and then you can take your medication.” He murmured, turning to turning the flatcakes he was making.

Smiling wryly, Obi-Wan nodded, despite not Anakin looking at him anymore and gave Ahsoka another head rub. Then he got up and moved to make his tea, holding the blanket closed around him to keep warm.

Antibiotic always had a tendency to leave him feeling cold, something about his particular biology the healers said.

As he prepared his tea pot and strainer then poured the water in, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wonder what Cody was doing.

Every Jedi knew that something was up, the troopers, subtle as most of them were or at least the high ranking ones, had tells that their Jedi could tell.

Everyone, from Mace Windu, to Aayla Secura, could report that something was going on and there were a few common themes. One was that they were all reporting to Cody, two was that it involved the Jedi order and three… the Senate.

The GAR was doing something about the Senate.

Normally, the Jedi would have taken care of that, a threat to democracy and to justice but…

These were their troopers and it was the Senate.

The Senate that regularly abused them, flaunted rules that normally would have gotten them jailed but that they got away with because it was the Jedi order they were doing it towards. Had they been anyone else…

The public outrage would have been tremendous.

But all the Senate really would have to do was to flaunt the old law and go ‘well, they are in servitude to the Republic, how can we not use their services when they’re there.’

Or well, that was what many Jedi feared would happen.

If they spoke up about the treatment happening on Coruscant by Senators… would the rest of the galaxy and even the very people on Coruscant simply… not care.

Just brush it away as so many injustices that happened.

After all, the Jedi weren’t that special.

The people might just decide that as long as they couldn’t see it, it didn’t matter to them and simply keep it to malicious gossip. It was one of the worries of the Order.

Some places didn’t give them even a mediocre of respect, which made negotiations difficult but if they lost even that small silver provided by being ‘warriors’ instead of a monastic order…

“…Obi-Wan, your tea,” A soft voice interrupted his flow of thought, Obi-Wan jerking a bit too, blinking at Anakin as the other peered back at him. “Its been two and a half minute.” The blond clarified carefully, giving him a small smile.

“Oh, thank you Anakin, I was lost in thought.” Obi-Wan smiled back, lifting the strainer out of the pot and putting the lid on.

Giving him a knowing look, Anakin didn’t say anything and simply placed a bowl of bacon down closest to Ahsoka, the flatcakes placed in the middle of the table. Instantly, with a happy noise, the togruta dug into the food, wiggling eagerly.

It made bot holder Jedi smile.

At the very least Ahsoka had a good appetite and they’d best feed her as much as they could while on planet.

Setting his pot down on the table, Obi-Wan collected a banana to slice onto his flatcake, knowing he needed the nutrients.

Bacon was too greasy for him anyhow, he wasn’t a savory and sweet kind, enjoyed them separated if he was honest but at least Anakin looked to be having fun as he added jam and bacon to his own and Ahsoka…

Oh dear, maybe they should have her visit the medics.

Obi-Wan felt his brows rise as she piled a steady amount of bacon higher and higher on her flatcake before folding and wrapping it, grinning almost evilly before taking a big bite out of it, giving both Anakin and Obi-Wan a wide eyed, but happy look over it.

Snorting, Obi-Wan poured himself a cup of his tea, chuckling as Anakin crooned about not being the only one with bad eating habits and Ahsoka trying to kick him under the table.

A small smile curled Obi-Wan’s lips as he watched them. ‘…It would be nice if… every morning could be like this…’ Obi-Wan thought wistfully, bringing his cup to his lips. ‘It would be nice if… if we were safe…’ He glanced to the window of the kitchen, the Rotunda large and ominous in the distance.

Grandparescue

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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.

His poor grandpadawan, such poor luck.

Mech siblings

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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.

Does Paz know Din has removed his helmet in Need for touch?

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Din exists.

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.

For Lupinecopper, can we see them all getting to the temple? Especially a Maul POV chapter as he starts to take in how totally different his life is going to be?

Posted on av swmoddy

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.

Yet he didn’t retract his statement.

He really did like his new tunic.

Padawans at our heart

Posted on av swmoddy

Rubbing the back of his padawan’s hand with his mech fingers as he sat
up against the cave wall, Anakin pressed the heel of his palm to her
breastbone to feel the rise and fall of her chest as she took her
labored breaths.

Every breath was a struggle, the togruta having
eaten something her body had not tolerated but there was nothing to do
for it, the two Jedi sitting in a shallow cave as the lightning storm
raged outside.

It had caught them on their return which had left
them unable to return to camp where Kix would have antihistamines or
something for Ahsoka.

So that left them in their current
situation, Ahsoka sitting between Anakin’s legs with her back to his
chest as the human steadily kept her lungs and throat from closing up
with the Force every second hour.

But healing was not a skill Anakin really had and he was trying his best just to keep his padawan alive.

‘When
we get back to camp, I’m having Kix run a full blood test on her to
check for allergies. What the kark did she eat that she reacted this
badly to?’ Anakin wondered with some desperation. Ahsoka had not been
able to answer him what it could potentially be as she had eaten several
unique things on the planet and hadn’t understood she was having an
allergic reaction to start with as togrutas bodies were hardened and it
had tried to fight the reaction.

By the time she realized what it
was, several hours had gone by and Anakin was left without anything to
aid his padawan properly with.

“I’m sorry.” Ahsoka suddenly rasped.

Shushing
her, Anakin pulled her closer to his body, feeling how cold she was.
“Don’t talk Ahsoka, preserve your strength and just keep breathing,” He
murmured in return, feeling her panic rise once more as she struggled to
breath. “You need to keep breathing as calmly as you can or you’ll make
yourself worse Snips.” He murmured in a weakly scolding tone.

Ahsoka whined a bit at that but gave a weak nod and pressed back into her master with a soft, pained noise.

Slowly she went back to her half drowsing state.

Reaching
up with the hand not on Ahsoka’s chest to open her airways, Anakin
tilted her chin up so she would have an easier time breathing as he
considered something, anything really, to sooth her panic that he could
still feel in a low level burning through the bond in her.

After a
few moments he started to sing just like his mother had used to do when
Anakin woke with nightmares, stroking her monteral with the leather
covered hand as Obi-Wan had used to do with him as a padawan.

“Its
going to be alright Snips, I’m right here, I’m not going to leave you
alone or leave you behind.” Anakin swore quietly as the lightning storm
raged outside, the thunder rolling over them with booms echoing in their
small cave.

He heard her swallow heavily, a wheeze escaping her
as she squeezed her hand on his thigh. “Know… got me. You… got me.” She
managed to wheeze out and beneath the panic and the fear in Ahsoka,
Anakin sensed the utter trust she had in Anakin’s ability to keep her
safe and ensure she would come out to see the light of day once more.

‘Oh
karking Force, please make me worthy of that trust.’ He thought shakily
as he held his padawan as tightly as he dared while once more opening
Ahsoka’s airways as her breaths started to whistle in her lungs. “I got
you, I’m here for you. I promise Ahsoka.” Anakin whispered before
pressing a kiss  to her montrale.

She squeezed his knee once more in response with a cough escaping her.

‘Get her to Kix. First thing the storm ends, get her to camp and to Kix…’

I finally caught up on Distant Pain and I noticed that Rex mentioned Ahsoka when the clones were talking about their generals doing dangerous stuff. Has Obi-Wan met her yet or is Anakin kinda hiding her from him?

Posted on av swmoddy

Pausing, Obi-Wan raised his brow at Dogma. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” He questioned slowly.

Shifting, the trooper in black and silver glanced at his fellow trooper then back to Obi-Wan. “Commander Tano is on route to meet us, she’s the padawan of General Skywalker. She’ll be here in less than two days.” Dogma repeated, looking uncertainly at Obi-Wan’s stone face.

Of course, Obi-Wan was quite aware that padawan’s were in the war efforts.

Hell, he had been part of the council when they voted on allowing the padawans onto the battlefield and how young they could be.

Ahsoka Tano was fifteen years old.

Despite not meeting with them, Obi-Wan was also aware of his lineage, who joined them.

She only recently turned fifteen.

From the way Dogma spoke, not only had he met the young padawan but this was not the first time she had been on a battlefield.

He took a deep breath, sitting back in the creaky chair in his tent, pausing all his data work as he set his pad down on the equally creaky table he had. “Are you telling me that Anakin Skywalker is allowing his young padawan onto the battlefield, the most active battlefields in the entire war?” He questioned blankly.

Dogma slowly nodded, even as Zuru shifted beside him, both equally uncertain clearly. “Since she became his padawan, yes sir. General Yoda sent her to him, General Jinn thought she was going to be his padawan.” Dogma explained, though he didn’t seem familiar with the situation.

Second-hand information from one of his vode then.

Obi-Wan stared at him before slowly getting up and moving to pick up his sparring droid case. “Right, I’m gonna… I need to work out some aggression now.” He stated crisply, lips pulled into a taut, white line.

Both troopers parted, allowing Obi-Wan past them and out of the tent, the Jedi marching past several vode as he made his way over to an empty area for sparring, his mind whirling with the information he had just gained.

Not only was a padawan under the age of seventeen, as was the majority for togrutas, being regularly deployed to the worst of the war zones in this war by her master, but also with the full knowledge and permission of the grandmaster of the Jedi order.

Obi-Wan’s great grandmaster.

Dropping the case, Obi-Wan kicked it so hard he felt like his toes were going to break, his anger getting the better of him.

Even as he lunged at the droid, he could feel Zuru and Dogma’s concern bouncing of his shields, could feel the attention of the camp slowly turn towards him as the noises started echoing, could feel Jinn suddenly being there.

And with him, Skywalker.

Obi-Wan’s carefully shuttled anger grew again and he let out a deep snarl at the injustices the latter reminded him of.

Their padawans shouldn’t be out in these fields, at all, but at the very least their youngest, the ones below their majority, should never be in the worst battlefields.

Obi-Wan’s grandmaster had allowed such a thing and Obi-Wan felt like tearing his hair out as he worked with his emotions.

The myth of Jedi not feeling anger, rage or even wrath was something he didn’t understood but if anyone had seen Obi-Wan at that moment, they would have that notion removed.

Because Obi-Wan was angry, angrier than he had ever been before in his life.

But he was also working through it.

‘Feel it, taste it but don’t let it control you,’ He reminded himself firmly, teeth gritted as he dodged the swing of a metal arm and lashed out with his leg. ‘I am stronger than my rage, I am better than my wrath. I am in control, not it.’