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aspentreewrites · 24 days ago

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and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 10

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter) grief, character death (from a certain point of view), alcohol, explicit sexual content

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

Link to read on AO3 here!

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Wordcount: 9k

Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

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A traditional Kote ky’ram is one of the most sacred affairs within Mandalorian culture - a ritual performed with no expenses spared, reserved for only the most honoured of fallen warriors.

It is, in essence, a night of well-prepared feasting and drinking, centred on a proper, elevated pyre with which to burn the dead. Depending on the texts one follows, it is sometimes considered the only way to truly ensure that an individual spirit can join with the Manda - the collective consciousness that encompasses all.

The 212th do not have the resources to hold a traditional Kote ky’ram.

They barely have enough for a regular, standard funeral.

As the rite begins, Cody focuses his attention far ahead on the viewport at the opposite end of the mess hall, directing all of his effort into keeping his breaths even and steady. He will not falter now, not in front of his men.

This intention becomes a lot harder to put into practice when he hears the first sniffle from the gathered crowd.

Force above guide him.

______________________________

“Cody.”

The Marshal Commander’s hands curl into fists at his side, his body as tense as a coiled spring despite his best efforts.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He has to appear like the picture of calm. He has to–

“Haar’chak, Kote, you’re stressing me out just by standing next to you.”

Cody starts, glancing guiltily over to Rex beside him. With great effort, he manages to bring his shoulders down, just by an inch. “Sorry.”

The two fall silent again, their gazes trained on the doors to the hangar as they await any hint of movement. Every second that passes is torture, and Cody itches to pace.

“Have you given any thought to what you’ll say to him?” Rex asks quietly, so as not to be overheard by any of the troopers milling around the barracks.

They certainly seem to have had no problems with getting back to normal, Cody thinks bitterly, then rapidly banishes the thought. His own mess of emotions isn’t anyone else’s fault, least of all his men’s. If anything, he should be happy that they’re not taking this as hard as he is.

“What can I say?” Cody mutters, grateful to be wearing his bucket today. He’s not sure he could control his expression if he tried.

Rex hums in acknowledgement to the question, briefly stepping aside to allow a cleaning droid to pass. He returns his attention to Cody, but doesn’t speak.

He always goes quiet like this when he’s thinking hard. It’s usually not so unnerving, but this morning, Cody can’t help but feel like he’s being analysed. He shifts slightly, his usual stoicism failing him along with the way his nerves have been thoroughly frayed over the past few weeks.

“You could always hit him,” Rex suggests eventually.

Cody barks out a startled laugh in his surprise - his first genuine one in a while. Rex seems very pleased with that, if the way his helmet tilts is any indication.

“Mm, not in the mood to get court-martialed for punching a Jedi, Rex’ika,” Cody replies once he’s collected himself.

“Court-martialing? For a little punch?” Rex counters, shaking his head. “It would be a minor punishment at worst, given the circumstances.”

Cody doesn’t miss a beat, a wry chuckle escaping him.

“Oh, trust me, it wouldn’t be a little punch, vod.”

Rex, perhaps wisely, doesn’t press the issue.

It doesn’t take long for the restlessness to start setting in again. Cody feels more and more like every part of his body is on edge - what’s taking them so long? They were supposed to have docked two minutes ago. Are they doing this just to extend his suffering for as long as possible?

Perhaps it would be better if he just turned around and went back to his quarters rather than wasting time with this stupid greeting party. He could pretend to be ill or too swamped with work or–

The door to the hangar slides open, and Cody stiffens.

______________________________

“The General was–” Waxer begins, cursing loudly as he tips his chair back and some of the rotgut sloshes out of his glass. “Fuck.”

He stares at the spill on the floor, his jaw falling slack. A pitiful groan escapes him, and he shoots a baleful glare at the remains of his drink. “I need a refill.”

“Toast first, vod,” Boil reminds him. The trooper’s cheek has been plastered to the surface of his table for the better part of the past half hour, and it doesn’t look like the drinks are going to stop flowing anytime soon.

Enough alarm wades through the molasses that have overtaken Cody’s mind for him to wonder if he should try and slow them down - or at least try to impose some form of order.

After a moment’s consideration, he simply downs the last of his own tankard.

He’s not sure it’s ever possible to be drunk enough for something like this.

“Right. Yeah, ‘course,” Waxer mumbles, clearing his throat. “Uh, the General was…” he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, as if he’s summoning the words to him from some unknown force. “... A hell of a Jedi.”

A smattering chorus of agreements sound throughout the room.

“Strongest kriffin’ warrior there ever was,” he continues, and suddenly laughs, a fondness overtaking his expression. “ Even without the lightsaber, too. None of us ever managed to beat him in a hand to hand spar - well, apart from the Commander that one time.”

Cody’s gaze has long since blurred over, his eyes dropping to the base of his mug as he takes in the words the men have been sharing, one by one.

He’d actually won a fair handful of sparring matches with Obi-Wan over the past year, but only ever one in front of the men - mostly because Cody had quickly realised once they’d gotten together that his strongest tactic was utilising flirtations to his advantage.

Stars, the first time he’d deliberately given him that look when attempting a pin, Obi-Wan had panicked and yielded immediately, eyes wide and a blush already travelling up his neck.

As soon as the Jedi’s senses had caught up to him, he’d huffed and pouted and made a few statements under his breath about “bad sportsmanship” and “playing dirty�� - but Cody knew him well enough to catch the quirk of his lip underneath his beard. He didn’t really mind. Far from it, in fact.

The memory feels like a dull, twisting knife in his gut now as he stares into the bottom of the tankard as if it might offer him any answers.

All it tells Cody is that tomorrow’s hangover is going to be one for the books.

“He was kind, too. Always looked out for the shinies,” Helix adds. His words are softly spoken in comparison to Waxer’s, but the whole room has stopped to listen. He’s been monologuing for a while now, Cody realises, frowning as he wonders just how long he’s been lost in thought. His perception of time has become a little warped, ever since that third shot. Or maybe it was the fifth.

And then, one by one, all eyes slowly turn to him.

It makes sense, he rationalises as he blinks back at them, doing his best to get his thoughts in order. They’ve gone around the whole group. They’ve all had their turns to speak, to share, but…

Cody swallows thickly. He’s not ready.

Wooley nudges him, probably a little harder than expected in his uncoordinated state. Cody winces. “C’mon, Commander. You were always the closest to him,” he murmurs. “You should get your chance to say goodbye.”

Cody just about manages to drag his eyes over the sea of his brothers, all wearing sorrowful, expectant looks as they watch him.

They want him to finish off the speeches. To say the final piece for the send off of the man that none of them know he loved.

Stars.

He closes his eyes briefly, willing his body to cooperate as he shoves down his rising nausea.

Not that he has anything to throw up anyway, he’s barely been eating, but Cody knows himself well enough to know that he’ll be spending the better part of tonight dry heaving in the ‘fresher until he feels like he’s punished himself enough.

He doesn’t think he can do this.

… He knows he has to, anyway.

Somehow, Cody manages to stand, leaning on the back of his chair for support as the ship spins around him. He breathes, just like Obi-Wan taught him: slowly, intentionally, trying to consciously feel every part of his drink-numb body, from his core out to his fingers and toes.

Once he thinks he has enough of a grip on the last dregs of his sobriety, Cody takes in a shaky breath, preparing himself to speak.

______________________________

He looks different.

It’s the first thing Cody thinks, seeing Skywalker and the man beside him make their approach across the room.

He had imagined, in his countless run-throughs of this exact moment in the shower this morning, that there’d be some modicum of relief; some big emotional release that would come with seeing him again after everything that happened.

Perhaps they’d have run into each other’s arms, like they do in the holovids. Spun each other around until the Galaxy became a blur of nothingness around them and all that was left was each other.

And yet, all Cody can think in the moment is that he looks different.

Short hair and stubble, rather than the usual mid-length swoop and neatly groomed beard, and he’s foregone his usual armour in favour of a simple tunic. It’s almost enough to make him look like another person entirely, but that gait - poised and considered, every movement deliberately chosen to give the illusion of control and grace - it’s unmistakable.

A frown creases Cody’s brow, feeling like he’s floating a mile outside of his body as he takes in the new appearance.

He doesn’t like it.

“Generals,” Rex greets amiably. Skywalker grins in that usual blithe way of his, reaching out to fistbump his Captain. Rex returns the gesture - an informality so grave that it would no doubt send any Kaminoan into a tailspin if they so much as caught a whiff of it - but it’s par for the course for the two of them.

Cody envies the simplicity of their relationship in this moment.

“Generals,” he repeats, detached. He makes no such move to get closer to his own General.

It’s noticed.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slide over to Cody’s, as if trying to search his gaze from behind the visor. There’s a gentle tug through the Force, questioning, and the Commander rejects it immediately. In his panic, he uses a little more force than was strictly necessary - not now. Not yet.

If his Jedi reacts to the way Cody all but violently shoves him away mentally, he doesn’t outwardly show it. Instead, he glances over to Anakin with a pleasant smile, as if this were all normal routine.

As if the past few weeks haven’t turned everything upside down.

“Well, it seems as though we’re all accounted for. Shall we, Commander?” he asks calmly, and Cody dutifully falls into step beside him as they begin to make their way to the zone of the barracks that the 212th calls home.

The silence only continues to stretch between them as Rex and Anakin peel away to meet with the 501st. His discomfort is starting to become palpable, worsening with each passing second. Cody doesn’t dare turn his helmet as they walk, unable to bring himself to so much as glance in Obi-Wan’s direction.

His head is beginning to throb.

When they arrive outside the briefing room where the men are gathered and waiting, they both try to speak first.

“I’m going to–”

“I wanted–”

An awkward pause permeates the air, and Cody winces. Obi-Wan, ever polite, gestures for him to go ahead. Force, this is awful.

“I’m, uh… going to head back to my quarters,” Cody starts, as neutrally as possible. “For some headache meds. I’m sure you can catch up with the men without me. They’ll be…”

Cody hesitates briefly, trying to find any word that holds appropriate enough gravity.

He fails.

“... Happy to see you, sir.”

He doesn’t miss the way Obi-Wan tenses at the use of his title.

Good, that bitter internal voice rears its head again, hissing with spite, make him feel a fraction of the hurt I felt.

Guilt follows the thought immediately, and Cody swallows down the panicked apology that threatens to tear from his throat.

Obi-Wan smiles thinly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Very well, Cody,” he replies, his voice soft and gentle. The sound of it is nearly too much for Cody to handle. Damn him. Why can’t he make it easier to be angry?

The Jedi clears his throat quietly, glancing around the hallway to check they’re alone. After his swift assessment concludes, he leans in, just a little, and lowers his voice. Cody fights the urge to retreat back a step to safety. “I’ll, ah…” Obi-Wan’s hand twitches by his side, as if considering reaching out but ultimately thinking the better of it. “I’ll be in my office afterwards. If you wanted to… speak.”

With that, he straightens up, his hands settling behind his back. The not-quite-smile returns. “But I won’t force you.”

Cody feels his throat constrict, his eyes falling to the floor, his boots - anywhere but Obi-Wan’s face and that hopeful spark in his eyes.

He wants to say no. Wants to keep his distance until the choking heat of the anger has dissipated from within him, until it no longer feels like he can’t breathe when he’s in his General’s presence.

… But unfortunately for what Cody wants, he’s always been terribly ineffectual at ever denying his lover.

“I might,” he says, thickly.

I will, the Force betrays him.

A more genuine smile crosses Obi-Wan’s features then, and he nods, an exhale that sounds like relief passing his lips. “Alright,” he murmurs. “I’ll hold off from scheduling other meetings in the meantime.”

As Cody turns to walk away, beset with a pounding head and a heart that pounds even harder, he hears Obi-Wan call a grateful “thank you,” from behind him.

He lets out a shaky breath, and doesn’t turn around.

______________________________

Cody is many things.

Marshal Commander, strategist, a surprisingly steady hand with a paintbrush.

What he is not, is a storyteller.

If you ever asked him to try and spin a tale for you, he’d raise an unimpressed brow and pass you along to one of his brothers, or to the General himself.

War, not words, are his specialism of choice.

Tonight, Cody does his best anyway.

And, for whatever reason, his men hang onto every word like they’re spellbound.

How long has he been talking already? He’s not sure, but his throat is feeling scratchy, his words becoming more hoarse with every passing moment. Still, he makes himself press on.

He’s shared endless words of praise and reverence over the past few minutes - his accounts of their first meeting, first duel, stories of Obi-Wan’s kindness and patience…

The more he continues, the more Cody wonders if he’s going to make it through without vomiting, but the end is in sight. Just gotta stick the landing, now.

“He was the best of the Jetii,” he chokes out - distantly, objectively aware that he’s started swaying on his feet, but he’s way past the point of being able to steady himself, now. “He was the best of us. And… and I…”

Cody doesn’t know when in his speech, exactly, he started crying. Only that he can’t stop.

It’s all become so horrifyingly real.

Obi-Wan won’t walk through the door ever again. Cody won’t wake up next to his warmth, and try and cajole another “five more minutes” from him with a soft nuzzle and a yawn. He won’t ever get to kiss the crease from his brow again, get to see more wrinkles added to the body he’s come to adore. They won’t ever again be able to entwine their minds to one another, two hearts beating as one.

“And I…”

Cody’s chest is a gaping wound, blood and pus weeping out onto the floor as he gasps for breath. His lungs squeeze, refusing to allow anymore air inside as his vision begins to darken at the edges.

“I was in love with… Osik, he’s dead.”

Faintly, as if from another room entirely, Cody hears a warning shout from one of his brothers as his knees give way beneath him. In seconds, someone’s arm is around his middle, lowering him to the ground clumsily as the world loses its footing along with him.

Cody opens his mouth - he thinks it’s to thank them for catching him, or to try and say anything that might preserve some of his dignity - but all that comes out is another sob.

Were his throat not so raw from giving his speech, he suspects he might have screamed instead.

The world turns into a blur of noise and colour around him, a cacophony of sensation, and Cody stops trying to rail against the way it wants to swallow him up.

He doesn’t remember anything else from the night of the funeral.

Dreams, vague as they often are, come to Cody that night hazy and muddied. For reasons unknown to him, he can’t quite shake the feeling that tonight’s visions are beckoning a finger to him, entreating him to sink into them and hear what they have to tell him.

After such an exhausting day, he finds himself powerless to resist.

In a forest filled with a thick, impenetrable fog, Cody stands alone, his gaze trained on the endless liminal space ahead of him.

Rows upon rows of trees stretch into nothingness on all sides, and the air lies unnaturally motionless. What should be a cool, breathable atmosphere sits far too heavily in the stillness - each intake of breath fills his lungs with uncomfortably warm air.

The branches of the trees whisper to him to move forwards, so he does.

In the silent, surreal dreamscape, Cody walks.

He walks for days, minutes, hours. His surroundings don’t change, but he’s spurred on by the insistence from some external force that no matter what, he needs to keep going.

Cody is dogged - persistent in his determination, despite how drained he feels. His feet drag beneath him, his ankles aching, crying out for a moment of rest, but still he walks.

Good soldiers follow orders, after all.

Eventually, he finds himself arriving at a change in scenery - a clearing, still soaked in fog yet markedly different from everything that came before. Something about this place feels significant.

The trees seem to think so, too.

Cody squints as his attention is drawn, almost magnetically, to the opposing end of the open space.

A figure stands, cloaked, in much the same situation as he himself appears to be. They haven’t noticed him yet.

Are they… real? Cody reaches out, taking a few steps closer, and they freeze. The clearing itself yawns, the distance between them growing rapidly.

No, Cody thinks with a frown. This is wrong, he knows instinctively. They shouldn’t retreat, not from him. He feels as if he knows them, somehow, but how could that be?

All he knows is that his dream is near-desperate, urging him to continue his approach. It does not like that they’re on opposite sides like this.

Two more slow steps forward from Cody, and the figure turns and runs.

“Wait–!” Cody calls out, his voice hoarse. He tries to give chase, but the world disappears underneath him.

He falls–

And falls.

And wakes with a shout.

After he’s collected enough of himself in the morning to drag on his armour and run a comb through his hair, Cody banishes all thoughts of the dream from his mind. He decides to put it down to the immense stress he’s been under as of late, and nothing more.

Wishful thinking, perhaps, but it doesn’t do to dwell on something so disconcerting when there’s nothing he can do about it.

He makes it a point to make a round of the ship’s communal areas and clean up where he can, stopping to drop by the medbay to see Kix and personally apologise for the state he was in last night.

He had, correctly, assumed that the medic was the one who had gotten him safely back into his room after he dramatically collapsed. The main thing that had tipped Cody off was the glass of water, thoughtfully left on his nightstand. His other brothers mean well, but no one else would have had the coherence to do that.

Cody’s grateful, even if he struggles to adequately express it. Without Kix’s intervention, he probably would be in even more of a humiliating position today - at the very least, he imagines he’d have woken in a storage closet rather than a bed.

The one good thing, Cody tries to remind himself, about everyone having been utterly blind drunk last night, is that at least no one has any recollection of his (stupid, ill-thought out) mumbled confession at the end of his speech.

Di’kut, Kote, Cody curses at himself as he remembers his words. What were you thinking?

Maybe other people knowing about them would have been on the cards a few days ago, but it’s out of the question now.

The relationship he shared with Obi-Wan will now and forever remain a secret tucked inside his heart, to carry closely with him to the death and never to be shared with another soul. Obi-Wan was the perfect Jedi, and Cody will not allow that reputation to be smeared by anyone’s knowledge of his attachment to him. His legacy is all he has now.

And Cody couldn’t live with himself if he ruined him like that.

He swallows, banishing the thought that it had only been recently that he’d started to dare to dream of a future.

It doesn’t matter now, in any event - the thought of ‘what might have been’ may as well be poison. He glances down to the broken glass at his feet, sighing as he crouches down to carefully collect the shards together with a gloved hand.

A secret it must remain.

______________________________

Cody stands - or, more accurately, fidgets - outside of the door to Obi-Wan’s office, trying to gather enough courage to knock.

He feels vulnerable, out of his armour and preparing to walk straight into the unknown without any plan to speak of. It sets his every nerve on edge.

Obi-Wan will be able to sense that he’s here, he knows.

Worse, he’ll be able to feel his agitation - Cody is cognizant enough of his own restlessness to be acutely aware that it’ll be bleeding through his shoddy attempt at shields.

He feels his frown deepen. There’s no sense in delaying the inevitable.

And yet, Cody still hesitates as he raises his hand.

You still have time to turn tail and return to your quarters, part of him reasons.

Coward, another part spits in reply.

With a steadying intake of breath, Cody raps his knuckles against the durasteel, waiting until he hears a soft ‘come in’ called from the other side to enter.

He can’t help but suck in a soft breath at the sight that greets him.

It’s far from an unfamiliar one, but perhaps that’s why it nearly breaks him. Obi-Wan is sitting at his desk, weariness etched into his features as he looks over a datapad. The dark circles under his eyes are particularly prominent, the line of his mouth thin and downturned.

It is, perhaps, the most common way that Cody finds himself walking in on his Jedi in the evenings after a mission - stolen moments where he has so often in the past taken it upon himself to stride across the room and kiss away the lingering exhaustion, usually before taking a seat next to him and silently joining in with the paperwork.

Cody can almost pretend that this is just another of those evenings, that nothing’s wrong or broken between them.

Almost.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan greets, rising from his chair hastily. “Thank you for–”

“Of course. I–”

The two remain on their respective sides of the room as they falter, doing nothing but staring at each other for a long time.

“It’s good,” Cody eventually blurts out. “To see you, I mean. I, uh–” he tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

It’s a woefully inadequate statement, and they both know it.

He should open the bond, Cody thinks faintly as his eyes track over his lover’s face, taking in his pallid skin, the way he seems to carry even more weight on his shoulders than usual. He has evidently found this whole ordeal trying too, in his own way.

He should open the bond, he thinks again. He needs to offer out an olive branch, share the sheer depth of his fucking relief, feel Obi-Wan again like he’s desperate to do…

But something sticks.

Cody can’t quite bring himself to do it, not yet. Not while there’s still so much turmoil bubbling just below the surface of his skin.

Looking at his Jedi now, he finds that he wants to strangle him just as much as he wants to kiss him.

Obi-Wan’s expression crumples, reforms into something neutral. “You’re angry.”

Cody bristles, finding ‘neutrality’ too hard of a handhold to reach for. “I’m not.”

The Jedi’s lips disappear into a thin, disapproving line. “Don’t deny yourself your emotion. You’re angry,” he repeats, leaning forward to brace his hands on the edge of his desk.

Cody looks away, his eyes tracking over the viewport at the wall as he wars with his composure. Of course he is. ‘Angry’ doesn’t even begin to cover it - he’s furious.

His arms fold protectively in front of him as his mind races. He knows, when he examines it clinically, that his emotions are misplaced. His problem isn’t with Obi-Wan, not really. Cody is all too aware that he didn’t have a choice.

He’s barely even pissed off with the Jedi Council. Wartime mandates mean frequent deployments on missions that aren’t pretty, and Cody knows that better than anyone. He’s read the debrief, cover to cover - the undercover nature of the mission was priority, and maintaining the ruse of his death was necessary for the cover to be maintained.

Yet, despite the rationalisations and the way he’s gone over it all logically a million times in his mind, Cody’s heart still aches and his blood still burns and his lungs cave in on themselves in a way that makes him desperate to lash out.

“We weren’t allowed to go to the funeral.”

The words slip out of his mouth without warning, and Cody can hear the strained way his voice leaves his lips, threatening to crack under the weight of all of his unfelt emotion. Obi-Wan heaves out a heavy sigh, slowly lowering himself back into his chair.

“Cody,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering closed. “I’m so sorry. If I’d have known–”

But Cody can’t stop, not now. “We held our own, on the ship.”

Obi-Wan falls quiet hearing that. Cody returns his gaze to him, watching as the other man swallows thickly.

He doesn’t know what he wants to see in those eyes. Remorse? Guilt? At least some level of understanding of the hell that Cody’s been through while mourning him.

“The boys were a kriffing mess,” he continues. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought– I thought I was going to have to deal with a few defecting - Gods know their loyalty lies to you more than it does to the Republic sometimes. And I– I was the one who had to pick up the pieces, Obi-Wan.” His words are getting louder now, rougher as his long-denied distress makes its way to the surface.

Cody is privately grateful that most of the 212th is occupied in the training hall, otherwise he knows he’d be at risk of being overheard at this volume.

Allowing himself this slip of control is almost perversely satisfying. Cody feels the way his hackles raise in danger, don’t you know you’re risking being sent for reconditioning CC-2224, back down now, and still, he presses ahead anyway.

“Cody–” Obi-Wan tries, but he’s swiftly cut off as Cody raises his hand.

“Do you have any idea,” he practically spits, “any idea at all how hard it was to pretend that I wasn’t utterly kriffing destroyed? To look my men - our men - in the eye and tell them that we were going to make it through, when I didn’t even know if I was going to survive?”

Cody lets out a sound that’s a cross between a harsh laugh and a choke. “We had to keep working, even just hours later. I’m willing to play my part in this war, you know I am, but the Republic didn’t even give us a day.”

He forces an intake of ragged breath, his entire being raw, abraded down by pain.

“You died,” he whispers, screwing his eyes shut tightly. “I– fuck. I died with you. And now you’re here, and I’m supposed to just be okay again. So, yes. I’m fucking angry.”

Obi-Wan watches Cody.

He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to intercept and calm him down. Instead, he just watches.

Silence, heavy and oppressive, blankets the room and the space between them. Cody slumps, the weight of even holding himself up far too difficult to maintain.

Seconds tick by, eternity by eternity, and when it’s clear that the Commander has nothing more to say, the Jedi silently reaches out his hand towards him.

Cody doesn’t have the strength to stay away anymore.

He takes it, allowing himself to be tugged closer, until he’s sinking down onto Obi-Wan’s lap in the office chair. It’s not the most comfortable of positions, but it’s impossible to care about that now.

“Oh, my darling,” Obi-Wan breathes, and Cody shudders, a quiet sound of grief escaping him.

“I was so scared,” he manages, closing his eyes again as, for a moment, he just feels.

Most of him still doesn’t quite believe that Obi-Wan’s alive, that they’re together again. The heat of his Jedi’s body almost doesn’t feel real against him, and Cody is terrified beyond belief that any second he might wake up again to cold reality, to a world where he’s still gone.

He presses his face to Obi-Wan’s neck, trying in vain to steady his breathing and keep his tears at bay.

Against his cheek, he feels his lover’s pulse, fluttering gently.

Undeniable proof of life.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan whispers, sounding nearly as broken as Cody feels. “I… I’m so sorry. I knew this would hurt you, but I didn’t want– I…” Obi-Wan pulls him closer with one hand, running his fingers through Cody’s hair with the other.

“Ni ceta, Kote.”

Cody’s breath hitches. The Mando’a, spoken so softly and sincerely, is enough to finally break him.

His shoulders shudder as his arms come up to wrap around Obi-Wan, clinging to him as if he’s the only anchor tethering him in a storm. His Jedi sighs softly, his own embrace tightening as Cody silently weeps into him, curling into his lap like a child that needs comfort.

Obi-Wan is devastatingly patient, as he always is.

He shushes Cody gently, his fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns over his back, and all the usually stoic Commander can bring himself to do is cry and cry. All of the bottled up grief and pain of the past few weeks rushes violently to the surface in a rapid tidal wave, and it’s all he can do to not get swept away with it, too.

He hates feeling weak. He hates letting go of the tight rein he holds on his emotions. Worst of all, he hates feeling anything less than completely in control in front of Obi-Wan - the man he should protect, the man he should be strong for.

But in this moment, he has no choice but to give himself over entirely to his lover, trusting him to keep him steady and hold him together as he threatens to shake apart.

It’s terrifying. It’s so very needed.

Cody’s fingers curl into the fabric of his tunic, gripping him in a white-knuckle hold, as if he fears Obi-Wan will disappear if he doesn’t.

When the tears finally stem, the two stay pressed tightly together, unwilling to pull apart. Cody doesn’t think he has the strength to tolerate any more than an inch between their bodies right now, his mind still reeling with the knowledge that Obi-Wan is alive, here, real.

He presses his lips to Obi-Wan’s pulse point, praising, reverent - and all of a sudden, even this scant distance feels unbearable.

The Jedi sucks in a sharp breath as Cody scrapes his teeth over the skin at his neck - lightly, yet his intention is clear.

“Darling…” he breathes in warning, his fingers twining into the curls at Cody’s nape. “The door is unlocked.”

It’s a weak admonishment, given the way his grip on Cody strengthens rather than pushing him away, and Cody wastes no time in pressing his advantage. He shifts his body closer, straddling Obi-Wan now as he braces his thighs around him on the office chair.

They’re far from being young men, and they’ll definitely have pains in every muscle by the time this is over from the position they’re in, but in his almost frenzied state, Cody can’t bear the idea of pulling away and taking the time to reconvene his quarters.

He has to have Obi-Wan now.

“So lock the door with the Force,” Cody replies, rolling his hips in his relentless offensive, relishing in the way his lover shivers in response. His lips stay pressed to Obi-Wan’s skin, tasting, seeking, and his words come out feverishly against him. “I need you.”

Somehow, the words are merely a pitiful attempt at conveying just how intensely Cody actually feels.

He wants to love him more gently than he ever has, and in the same breath he wants to ruin him.

He wants to press soft kisses over each of his marks from head to toe - from the phalloplasty scar at his thigh, to the blaster burn at his side, to the freckles that dot his back.

He wants to eat Obi-Wan alive, and leave absolutely nothing left once he’s done.

Obi-Wan groans as Cody leaves a particularly bruising bite just under his jaw, reaching up a hand to haphazardly activate his office’s emergency lock across the room. Cody doesn’t let up, every second that passes sending him further and further into his near-delirious state.

He’s agitated, desperate - he needs to feel the touch of skin against skin, to know without a doubt that Obi-Wan is alive and safe and in his arms.

If that means breaking nearly every piece of furniture in his office to do so, then so be it.

Thankfully, Obi-Wan seems to understand the source of his need, allowing Cody to take as he needs - and for every inch, Cody entirely intends to extract a mile.

“I’m here,” the Jedi whispers, his eyes dark and lidded as Cody tugs his tunic over his head and begins to hastily work at pulling away his belt. “Cody. Cody.”

Obi-Wan’s hand reaches out to grasp Cody’s chin, gently tilting his head up to face him, stilling his movements as he does. “We have time, my love,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cody is already panting, his gaze glassy as he leans into the touch that now slips to his jaw, running over the stubble he’s gained from a few days of inconsistent shaving.

“I know,” he finds himself saying in return, somehow fetching coherent words from the few (and diminishing) still-functioning recesses of his brain. “I know. But I can’t wait any longer.”

With that, he surges forwards, kissing Obi-Wan hard enough that their teeth knock together.

He breathes out an apology that he doesn’t really mean, but doesn’t stop for long. Within seconds, he’s swiftly tugging Obi-Wan’s belt free and working at his own clothes with fumbling hands.

Mercifully, Obi-Wan is nothing if not helpful. With a flick of his wrist, Cody’s blacks pull up and over his head - a surely inappropriate use of the Force that Cody would usually tease him for, but right now he barely even has the capacity to process.

Half-standing from the chair, Cody shimmies out of the last of his clothes and kicks off his boots, sinking back down onto Obi-Wan’s lap.

The feeling of being together - properly together - after all that’s befallen them, is divinity itself.

The Jedi’s hands find his hips, holding them steady as they press their foreheads together, taking a moment to adjust to the skin to skin contact. Cody has just about enough prescience to allow Obi-Wan a few seconds to take a breath - he knows he always needs it, even if he himself is practically breaking apart with the force of his need.

Pulling back for as long as he can bear, Cody spits onto his palm, reaching down between them to wrap his hand lightly around the bases of their cocks. He feels Obi-Wan twitch in his hold, pulsing deliciously, and he grits his teeth with the effort of holding back.

“Let me– let me know when I can–” Cody mumbles, forcing his thoughts to consolidate into something resembling patience. The heat of Obi-Wan’s breath, sweet in his mouth, could drive him completely to insanity. He’d follow this man to the ends of the Galaxy just for the taste of it.

Cody’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

One breath in.

One breath out.

Obi-Wan finally nods his go-ahead.

Cody grinds his hips down, hard, and pumps his wrist, swallowing down his Jedi’s gasp in a hungry kiss as he does. Obi-Wan’s grip tightens on his hips, and with a growl that borders on feral, Cody drags his teeth over his bottom lip, tugging at it lightly as they grind against one another.

The office chair, clearly not built for use this thorough, squeaks in protest with every movement.

It’s been showing signs of wear for months, anyway; he’s doing Obi-Wan a favour, from a certain point of view. At least now he has an excuse to requisition a replacement.

An artful squeeze of Cody’s hand has them both bucking into each other, breathless and moaning wantonly into one another’s mouths as they move together - almost clumsy in their fervour.

This is not the slow, careful lovemaking the both of them have become accustomed to. This is messy and desperate fucking, borne from a desperate need to do nothing but feel.

Time begins to lose any sense of meaning as they move in tandem. There is only this moment, and there is only each other.

Cody drops his forehead to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, trying and failing to catch his breath. It’s unfair - he wants to eke this out for as long as possible, but the intensity of the moment has him so painfully close already.

But he’s not sure he could stop now if he tried.

Obi-Wan meets every roll of his hips with one of his own, and fuck, he feels so perfect against him - the heat of his body, the slick of his sweat–

A sharp pain shoots through Cody’s leg.

He pulls back with a hiss, and Obi-Wan’s hands reach up to cup his face immediately, alarm evident in his gaze. “Darling?” he asks in breathless concern, his eyes sweeping over Cody’s body to find the source of his hurt. “What’s going on?”

Cody grimaces, irritated with himself but knowing ultimately that there’s not a whole lot he can do.

“Cramp,” he mutters in shameful answer, ducking his head as he inhales as deeply as he can through gritted teeth.

This would be easier if he wasn’t so dizzy from being seconds away from the edge of his sanity.

“Ah.” Obi-Wan offers a sympathetic wince, even as he’s visibly relieved that it isn’t anything more serious. He leans in to press a lingering kiss to his lover’s temple, and Cody feels some of the tension drain from him, as easily as that.

With a heavy sigh, Cody regretfully extricates himself from Obi-Wan’s lap and stands, grunting as he slowly stretches out his traitorous leg.

His Jedi chuckles, rolling his own shoulders, and Cody manages to push through his annoyance enough to huff out an amused snort of air. He’s still very hard and practically dripping, as is Obi-Wan - the holoporn usually skips this part.

“We can take a moment,” Obi-Wan assures him before he can express the apology that’s on the tip of his tongue, and Cody finds himself smiling.

“Yeah, I… yeah, that might be for the best.”

Cody adjusts himself to lean back against the desk, cautious to keep his leg straight. The ache is already dulled in comparison to a few moments ago - thank every Star in the sky for accelerated healing.

Obi-Wan, in turn, flops back into the chair with a slow, measured exhale, his hair mussed and falling over his forehead in a pleasingly disheveled way. Cody takes a moment to appreciate the sight, drinking him in. The golden boy of the Order, wrecked by his touch.

Cody’s heart stutters in his chest, faltering as it all comes crashing back to him again.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever get this again.

Perhaps sensing the shift in the air between them, Obi-Wan tilts his head, meeting Cody’s gaze searchingly.

“You haven’t opened yourself to the Force yet,” he states quietly. There’s no judgement in his gaze, no hurt, even though it would be entirely within reason for him to take Cody’s distance personally.

Cody shakes his head, reaching up to absent-mindedly smooth back some of the hair that he knows must be sticking up in every direction. “I… still need a little time,” he murmurs.

Obi-Wan hums, reaching out to catch Cody’s hand as it falls and brings it to his lips.

“That’s more than alright, my love,” he replies softly, leaning in to brush a kiss across his knuckles.

His eyes flick up to meet Cody’s, a twinkle clear through the veil of his lashes as he continues his ministrations, peppering light kisses along each finger. “I’m a very patient man.”

A low sound escapes Cody’s throat as Obi-Wan gently turns his hand, his lips finding the pads of his fingers. When he sucks a digit into his mouth, Cody’s gaze turns hungry.

“You,” he starts roughly, accusatory, “are a menace.”

Obi-Wan looks positively impish, blinking up at Cody as he laves his tongue over his finger, pulling back after a moment with a smile that’s clearly attempting innocence.

It’s unconvincing.

“How’s your leg?” he asks, sweetly.

Cody’s fingers curl, reaching out suddenly to grasp Obi-Wan by the chin. “Up,” he orders.

Obi-Wan looks smug as he gracefully rises to his feet, clearly imagining that he’s won this little exchange.

Heat pools low in Cody’s gut as he thinks about just what it will take to wipe that smirk away.

He takes a second to breathe deeply, turning his full attention to shielding his intentions through the Force, just as he would when approaching a duel.

Obi-Wan, in his distracted state, doesn’t seem to notice. Good.

Without warning, Cody pounces, sidestepping to twist his body behind his General’s and pinning him down, covering his body with his own.

Obi-Wan’s breath leaves him in one fell swoop, letting out a rather undignified sound of surprise as Cody effectively forces him over the desk, the cold metal of the surface evidently a shock against his heated skin. He wriggles, but Cody doesn’t allow for much movement, leaning down to growl into his lover’s ear.

“Be still.”

The Jedi does as he’s told without further protest, and sheer arousal pulses between Cody’s legs. Fuck, he’s missed this.

“Very good. Now, to answer your question - yes, my leg is better, but I rather think a change in positions might make it easier on me going forwards. Happy with that, sweetheart?”

The whine that leaves the Jedi’s lips is enough of an affirmative for Cody.

Rulebooks in the GAR are nothing if not incredibly thorough.

All of the room designations in any standard Republic barracks or Venator-class starship are listed alphabetically in the manuals sent around to leadership, along with a strict list of where they should be located relative to one another, and exactly what each room space can and should be used for.

Cody, of course, has each of them memorised.

Item twenty three - Command Office for use by Generals (& selected other designations that are contextually dependent, see footnotes for details) - to be located centrally to allow access to all other rooms in operation, and to be exclusively used for the purposes of: strategic briefings; disciplinaries; one-to-one meetings; and private work at the discretion of those of General designation or higher.

He’s fairly certain that ‘plowing one’s General over the edge of the desk until he’s crying from overstimulation’ is not one of the purposes that have been so thoroughly itemised, but Cody imagines that it’s a little late to stop and ask HQ about that now.

“Kriff,” Cody bites out as Obi-Wan’s back arches below him. He reaches forwards to grab a fistful of his hair, tugging back just enough to encourage him to hold that position for a little longer.

At this newfound angle, Cody fucks into him even deeper - controlled in his pace, but nonetheless designed to devastate.

Obi-Wan cries out, his fingers grasping onto the edge of the desk like it’s a lifeline as he’s brutally rutted into. He tries to speak, but every sound that leaves his lips is incoherent, broken.

The only thing that Cody is effectively able to pick up on is his name, whispered over and over, exhaled like a prayer and a plea that punctuates each thrust of his hips.

He dips his head, curling his body inwards to surround his Jedi completely, pressing a kiss between his shoulderblades. Cody loves him so much it aches.

The bond between them flies open without him even meaning to.

With it, the Galaxy explodes.

Relief, fear, ecstasy, desperation, frustration, joy, need, love–

All exists as one and all exists to sweep them both away in a tidal wave of pure feeling. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and Cody distantly hears them both let out a shout as it overtakes them.

In the overwhelming face of it, neither of them ever stood a chance.

By the time they’re both able to pick apart the knotted strands that tie their consciousnesses together - at least enough to be able to differentiate their separate selves from their combined whole - Cody realises that at some point he’d half collapsed on top of Obi-Wan, and likely had been for a while.

With a mumbled, dazed apology, he pushes himself up, grunting as he inadvertently pulls out in the process.

There’s not much nearby that Cody can use to clean them both up with, but he hardly wants to leave his lover like this, dripping onto the floor with each spasm from his poor, bruised muscles.

After a moment’s consideration, he decides he can sacrifice his shirt for such an occasion. Obi-Wan will be more than happy to lend him his cloak to sneak back to his quarters with, he suspects.

Obi-Wan shivers as Cody returns to swipe the fabric over his thighs, cleaning him up with a firm, yet gentle touch. Soft words of adulation leave him as he works, pressing a kiss to every inch of skin he can reach between his praises.

When his Jedi finally collects enough of himself to move, he slowly pushes himself off of the desk to stand, stretching out languidly before capturing Cody in a tender kiss.

Their lips slide together slowly, unhurried - for the first time today, it truly hits Cody that they have time. Neither of them are going anywhere, at least not for tonight - not until they’re called away to another mission.

And that’s all that matters.

Softly, he touches his mind to Obi-Wan’s through the bond, nuzzling against his energy in the Force in a way that’s not unlike a tooka seeking affection, and Obi-Wan breaks the kiss with a quiet, fond-sounding laugh.

His Jedi mentally returns the nuzzle as they press their foreheads together, and Cody is briefly overwhelmed by the blissful knowledge that this - this is what it feels like to be home.

The spell is broken eventually, shattered by the sound of a few troopers chatting outside as they make their way down the hall.

The reminder of exactly where they just decided to enact their incredibly forbidden tryst hits Cody like a cold bucket of ice.

With a gasp, he practically bolts across the room, gathering Obi-Wan’s robes from where they had been clumsily discarded. He returns to his Jedi, draping them around him and tying them loosely at the front.

Obi-Wan chuckles sleepily, sagging against the desk and ineffectually trying to swat Cody’s hands away. “I locked the door, darling,” he insists. His visible weariness from earlier persists, but there’s a satisfaction to his smile now that wasn’t present before, and his presence in the Force glows with contentment. “No one’s going to walk in and see me.”

Ignoring Obi-Wan’s attempts to dismiss him, Cody continues to help him redress with a single-minded focus. “Not a chance I’m willing to take,” he replies sincerely. “Your–” he searches for the right word as he straightens out a wrinkle in his tabard. “-- Honour is important.”

That earns a full throated laugh from his Jedi. “Ah, my honour is it?” he repeats fondly. “Pray tell, how would my honour stand if anyone walked in on me - fully dressed, perhaps - but with my Marshall Commander in all his naked glory standing beside me, fixing my robes?”

Cody considers this for a moment. “Gross misconduct on my part,” he answers with a shrug. A further, sleepy-sounding huff of amusement leaves Obi-Wan.

Cody’s lips pull into a smile as he smooths down a particularly stubborn part of his outer tunic, trying to make it appear as unruffled as possible in an attempt to disguise all trace of their earlier activities on his person. “See? It holds up. Gross misconduct, and you were giving me a disciplinary.”

Obi-Wan raises a brow. “As far as I remember it, I was the one on the receiving end of the disciplinaries tonight, darling.”

Cody snorts, pulling back to admire his handiwork.

His gaze catches on Obi-Wan’s, and he softens impossibly further.

“I missed you.”

It’s a simple statement, but it seems to melt Obi-Wan in turn.

The Jedi smiles - that kind, endlessly affectionate smile that he seems to save just for him - and reaches out to carefully run his fingers through Cody’s hair, tidying it up in the process.

“I missed you, too. More than you know.”

Another gaggle of their men walking obliviously past outside has Cody startling again, this time rushing to grab his own pants and dragging them back on, with decidedly much less care than he gave to Obi-Wan’s redressing efforts.

By the time he’s made himself half-presentable, Obi-Wan is already holding out his cloak, without the need for him to ask.

Cody smiles, accepting it gratefully. As he drapes himself in it, he takes a moment to breathe in the scent, no longer tainted by the false knowledge of his beloved’s death. Warm notes of amber and spice, with the undercurrent of a fresher citrus. He could drown himself in it, if only Obi-Wan would let him.

With a contented sigh, Cody finishes tying it at the front, gathering up his soiled shirt and tucking it under his arm. “I’ll have to be quick not to be seen, I imagine,” he murmurs, sparing an apprehensive glance toward the door.

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan agrees. He tries to conceal the way his lips twitch into a smile, but it’s markedly harder to do without being able to hide behind his usual beard.

At the reminder, Cody shakes his head, reaching out to run his fingers over the stubble. “You really need to grow this out,” he mutters, unable to hide the disapproval from his tone.

Obi-Wan’s smile only grows, and he cocks his head. Despite the drastic change in appearance, his rakish charm is as unaffected as ever. “Yes, Commander, whatever you say,” he teases, and Cody leans in to give him a quick peck.

“As fast as possible,” he adds, in the best approximation of ‘stern’ he can muster right now.

“I’ll inform the follicles to work double-time for you.”

“Good. As you should.”

Cody heads to the door, his hand hovering over the controls.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises.

Obi-Wan hums - a content, pleased sound. “Very well. I have every intention of joining you before bed, regardless. Ah, just a few more seconds–”

They both wait as he reaches out into the Force, searching.

“... You’re good to go now,” the Jedi confirms, amusement colouring his tone. “But I’d advise being swift, my dear.”

Cody types in the code to unlock the office door without needing to look - he’s known it by heart for months, after all.

As he steps outside, he’s foolish enough to risk wasting a second to look over his shoulder.

His heart stutters as he meets Obi-Wan’s gaze again - far too soft, far too loving as he watches him leave.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes fondly as he sees Cody hesitate, waving his arm and mouthing at him to “go”.

The Commander offers his General an informal, playful salute, and promptly takes off down the hallway, beelining for his quarters initially at a steady jog, though it’s nearing a sprint as he rounds the corner.

Cody may feel a healthy thrum of fear move through him at the risk of being caught like this, but he knows one thing for certain as a giddy smile stretches across his face - he’s never been happier to be making a walk of shame.

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A/N: Earlier than expected! As a maintenance note, I'm going to be participating in Codywanweek 2025 this year, so expect to see a few oneshots from me early next month before Chapter 11 comes out :)

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto

#codywan #aspentreewrites #star wars fanfiction #cody x obi wan #my fics #tcw #commander cody #commander cody x obi wan #flowers & cannons #star wars

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aspentreewrites · 25 days ago

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Anakin loves hates picking Obi-wan up

#RAA how did I miss this one IT'S SO TASTY! The colours #so so so good #(next chapter of flowers & cannons dropping in a few hours btw :) )

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aspentreewrites · 1 month ago

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Does anyone know if there's a Codywan discord that a lone fanfic writer might hang out in and lurk at for a while 👉👈 it would be nice to get to know more ppl in the community

#i heard there might be one but im So Bad at interacting. i would like to hang out tho<3 #codywan

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aspentreewrites · 1 month ago

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and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 9

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter) grief, character death (from a certain point of view)

Description:

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

Link to read on AO3 here!

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Wordcount: 5.5k

Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

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Four days travel to get them to the Outer Rim, three days of wasted time spent charting an ecologically dead planet, and a further week and a half of surveying ahead of them.

The 212th’s mission has been uneventful thus far, to say the least - though Cody is far too disciplined of a soldier to ever call any job he’s given ‘boring��, at least not out loud. From their projections, the coming days promise to be much more of the same.

Despite this, the men have all been in high spirits, much to Cody’s surprise.

While it’s not the most stimulating of assignments, the troopers have largely been treating the whole thing as a bit of a holiday, making as much use of their unusually extensive downtime as they can.

Each cycle, once the day shift’s scouting and analysis is done, they return to the Venator. Most nights, a group of the vode have taken to gathering in the rec room to chat, watch holofilms, or play Sabacc.

On the second evening, Wooley even takes the initiative to rearrange the ship’s mess hall to accommodate a makeshift bolo-ball court - and though Cody pretends to disapprove, he quietly enjoys every moment of watching his brothers split into teams and compete.

Even as the scene erupts into chaos of betting pools and accusations of foul play, he can’t help the stupid grin that threatens to split his face.

When Cody retires to his room at night, he uploads the day’s reports back to Coruscant, responds to a handful of comms from HQ, and gets himself in bed at a reasonable hour.

To put far too simple of a word to it, it’s nice.

It’s a rare thing for any of them to have the chance to let loose and relax without the need to get blind drunk, or without the weight of their recent dead pressing down on them.

(Well, it would be a lie to say that they’re entirely without alcohol now - Cody has found himself having to repeatedly turn a blind eye to the boys exchanging a few bottles of rotgut under the table over the course of the trip so far. He just knows they’ve been sneakily brewing it in some dark corner of the ship somewhere - probably deep in a forgotten storage closet in the cargo hold, if he had to guess. He tells himself he’ll discipline them for it later, but he knows he probably won’t.)

With the time between mass casualty events getting shorter and shorter with each campaign they undertake, Cody feels a desperate need to prolong every moment of calm they get for as long as possible.

It’s for their sake, Cody tells himself. But if he’s being honest with himself, it’s also for his. Each minute of respite he steals feels like it restores his frayed nerves, strand by strand.

The only downside to the whole affair is that at this distance, Obi-Wan is too far from Cody for them to be able to feel each other in the Force.

The space in his consciousness where the bond usually is has become a cold, disquieting absence, and Cody has found that his own thoughts feel almost too loud, rattling around in there all on their own.

How he ever coped with it before, he has absolutely no idea.

He finds himself instinctively searching for Obi-Wan’s warmth through the bond first thing in the morning, reaching out blindly for it in a bid to tug it around himself like a blanket, to bask in that overwhelming sensation of connectedness as he wakes.

When they’re together, Obi-Wan always responds by reaching back.

As it has been for the past few days, Cody finds himself waking up each morning in a bed that feels far too big, and a mind that feels far too empty.

He does his best to compartmentalise the feeling - it won’t be too long until they’re back together again, after all - and he’s far from lonely with his brothers around him.

Still, it doesn’t stop Cody from longing for his Jedi’s presence like some embarrassingly lovesick youngling.

The clunk of the LAAT/i landing planetside snaps Cody’s attention back to the present. The sudden jolt makes him wince, and he reaches down to fish around in one of the spare ammo packs at his waist for some painkillers.

His head has been trapped in a fairly constant bout of aching ever since his concussion all those months ago.

‘Chronic headaches’, Cody has been told, are not something a clone is even supposed to consider having to deal with given their superior genetics - but then again, when has the Galaxy ever been kind to him?

Helix has thankfully been able to keep him supplied with minor treatments to ward the pain off, and Obi-Wan has been attempting a regular Force healing therapy in the hopes of a more permanent fix - though it hasn’t had much of an effect as of yet.

(Obi-Wan’s lack of success in the area is something Cody is determined to keep under wraps, if only to make the sessions keep going a little longer. He never sleeps better than when his head is in his Jedi’s lap, melting into the gentle heat of the Force as Obi-Wan channels it. It washes over his brain like a soothing wave, draining the tension from his muscles - it always serves to make Cody feel rather like a well-loved tooka. He’d initially worried his reaction to it was a little undignified, yet he’d quickly relaxed into it - he’s certain he’d purr under the attentions, if he could.)

It had occurred to Cody to ask if the ‘blip’ that Helix initially found on the scans all those months ago has anything to do with the dull ache that seems to shadow his every waking moment, but he’s been reassured time and time again that whatever it is he has, it’s not a haemorrhage, blood clot, nor anything that poses a physical problem.

The insistence that nothing’s showing up in his scans has, counterintuitively, been anything but reassuring. Cody is not a man who particularly enjoys a mystery, even at the best of times.

Regardless, he tries to remind himself, he feels healthy otherwise, and the painkillers do most of the work in shaking off the hurt day-to-day. At least that’s something.

With a hearty swig from his canteen, Cody downs the pills, trying to put all distractions behind him as the morning’s shift departs from the ship.

Today, they’re to chart out a planet that has thus far been designated as ‘H-W-K-56E’. In the interest of brevity, most of the boys have taken to just calling it ‘Hawk’.

Upon first blush, it looks as if the surface is made entirely of a thick, violet mist. Early satellite photos had suggested as much, but it somehow manages to come across as even more alien in person.

As he takes his first step off of the ship, Cody takes a moment to watch the way his footsteps disturb his surroundings, sending swirls of fog dancing outwards from him with each movement.

It’s immediately apparent, too, that the ground underfoot has a slight give - the soil is evidently waterlogged. Cody mentally takes a few points off of the viability report that he’s composing in his head. A wetland environment would certainly add to the difficulty of establishing a base of operations here, but it’s not necessarily a write-off just yet.

Swiftly, he gives his orders to the gathered men: today, they start on their initial surveys of Hawk, picking up whatever they can about the flora, fauna, and the overall possibility of successful military settlement.

With sharp salutes, the 212th grab their kits and head off in a myriad of directions, clear in their purpose… but for once, Cody doesn’t follow them. Today, he has a mission all of his own.

He’d told the rest of the boys that he'd be investigating a cave system to the south of where they’d landed, and that he’d meet with them back at the rendezvous point in the afternoon. It’s a partial truth, at least - he does intend to explore the caves, just not for anything particularly pertinent to the Republic.

Cody hasn’t forgotten the promise he’d made to Obi-Wan.

I’ll bring you back something.

Memories of that night just before they’d left buzz in the back of his mind. He knows that his Jedi doesn’t actually expect anything from him, but Cody’s determined to follow through on his words.

Obi-Wan always makes it a point to bring back trinkets for Cody from the various planets he visits - even though he also doesn’t really have many personal possessions to call his own.

They’re generally the standard, tourist-y souvenirs - Force knows Cody probably has more novelty mugs now than anyone else in the GAR - but they’re always presented to him with a quiet, bashful explanation of why the item reminded him of Cody.

His thoughtfulness is something Cody never quite feels like he can adequately repay.

The most recent gift had been a keychain in the shape of a cute, rabbit-like creature native to a planet Obi-Wan had been stationed on a few months ago. He had said, with much pride, that it had been chosen specially for Cody from a market stall in the capital, courtesy of a very young child he’d rescued earlier in the day.

They had apparently insisted that, in choosing this particular gift, it would ensure that any recipient would love Obi-Wan, in their words, ‘forever and ever.’

Cody had attached it securely to his primary datapad, privately hoping it would be his lucky charm for getting through paperwork faster than expected - it seemed like too much of a risk to take something so important out in the field with him, after all.

A few of the men had raised their brows at him on the bridge when they caught sight of the little ornament dangling from their Commander’s datapad during morning briefings, but thus far they’ve all been smart enough not to comment on it.

Cody even thinks he might have caught a glimpse of a few others beginning to decorate their office gear accordingly, and the thought that he’s unwittingly started a trend gives him a chuckle.

Even if the gifts weren’t deeply appreciated - and they are - it’s a rare enough occasion that Cody’s the one travelling further afield while Obi-Wan stays behind, so it feels only right to return the favour.

And so, one local hour later, Cody finds himself cautiously picking his way through the deep, snaking caverns that twist below the planet’s surface.

The natural formations mean that there’s not much of a clear path per se, so Cody takes caution to stop at frequent intervals to leave small dabs of paint that fluoresce under his helmet light on the walls - markers for himself so he can find his way back once he’s done. It’d be far too easy to get lost down here.

The structure seems stable, but he’s still sure to maintain caution. Slipping and cracking his head open while on a secret mission to get a trinket for his partner would be an assuredly embarrassing way to meet his end. Obi-Wan might follow him to the afterlife just to give him a disapproving lecture.

The caves are dark, but they positively glitter under Cody’s headlamps. As he enters into a particularly large cavern, the only reaction he can muster is to stop and stare.

Rows upon rows of crystal formations are set into the stone as far as the eye can see. They’re nothing particularly useful or valuable as far as the Republic’s interest goes (a significant contributor as to why Hawk hasn’t been colonised already), but that doesn’t make them any less beautiful.

Purples, greens, blues, and the occasional gold twinkle back at Cody as he approaches the far wall of rock, the gems reflecting in the inky blackness of his surroundings like stars embedded in the night sky.

He wonders if this is at all like what Ilum is like.

He’s heard tales, reverently spoken by Obi-Wan and Ahsoka about their experiences in the ice caves on their search for their Kyber crystals. Even Skywalker had described it as ‘something else’, though he was clearly much less awed in comparison.

Outside of the spiritual significance, Cody can’t imagine it would be significantly different to this, in beauty at least.

A little more cold, perhaps.

Cody’s gaze passes over the crystals one after another, his mind switching tracks into analysis mode. His brow furrows with the effort as he continues - as far as he’s concerned, this is his highest priority mission of the day, and he will treat it as such. Coming up short is not an option.

An emerald green stone catches his eye briefly, but it’s quickly dismissed. It’s a breathtaking shade, though it’s about the size of his fist - Cody doesn’t want to take anything too large, or else it might leave too much of a mark on the cavern when taken. He might be here to pocket something for himself, but keeping the damage minimal is still important.

If Obi-Wan were the type of person to want entire gemstone mines excavated for his jewellery collection, he’s sure that many men would be tripping over themselves to get him just that - but he’s not, and Cody is fairly sure that the Jedi would be upset if proper conservation guidelines weren’t adhered to when retrieving him gifts, so something small it is.

His next stop along the wall of crystals is at a long, thin stone that glows like the 212th’s gold when he shines his headlamps on them just so… but ultimately, he decides to move on after a moment of pondering. It’s nice, certainly, but that’s all it is. Nice. Cody didn’t come here to settle for anything less than perfect.

And then, after a few more steps… there. Cody’s eyes light up behind his helmet as he crouches down to inspect his discovery. A small, flat crystal nestled amidst a cluster of paler, slightly more dull varieties, close to the ground. It glows azure - a near exact match to the shade of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber.

“You were hiding away, huh?” Cody breathes, fishing out a pocket-sized retractable vibro-blade from one of the pouches at his side. “Reckon you’d like to come with me?”

Activating the blade, he begins carefully carving through the stone in front of him, sure to keep his hand steady. If he has the time while they’re away, he’d love to polish this up to something smoother and even brighter - nothing but the best for Obi-Wan.

It comes away easily, and the Commander takes just a moment to admire his handiwork. He rolls the small blue crystal in the palm of his hand, nodding to himself in approval before he pockets it securely.

A part of him feels a little silly about going to such lengths for something so simple, but it feels important to him to make the effort. He knows Obi-Wan won’t make fun of him for it - a gentle jab at worst, but he’ll appreciate the thought regardless, Cody tells himself.

One positive of being so far that they can’t feel each other’s every move is that he actually has a shot at surprising him. Cody hasn’t quite gotten the hang of keeping any secrets that he wants to share through the bond, even after all this time.

As the Commander emerges into daylight, the sun is barely cresting over the top of the mountain range in the distance, casting a bright, blue-tinted light over the landscape. A small smile flits over his face as he begins to make his way back towards the rendezvous, an uncharacteristic sense of lightness filling him.

He can’t wait to return home after this.

Having Coruscant feel properly like ‘home’ at all is a recent novelty, and one that Cody is conscious not to take for granted.

It’s not long at all until the 212th will be heading back - only one and a half weeks, by initial estimates. While that fact means that soon it’ll be back to the realities of the front line for his men, it also means that there’s only one and a half weeks to wait until he’ll be reunited with Obi-Wan. It’s nice to have a silver lining to return to now, when everything else in his life is starting to feel so heavy.

Cody manoeuvres his way through the tall reeds that dot the swampy ground below, careful to steer clear of the large, lothcat-sized beetles that cluster in the sediment around him. They appear to be gathering around a multitude of burrows and holes in the ground, but he doesn’t stop to investigate.

He might be the furthest thing in the galaxy from a Xenoentomologist, but Cody knows enough to know when to let nature be nature. The last thing he needs is to come into first contact with a species that happens to spit acid when disturbed. All the same, he pauses to take a note of the coordinates to pass onto the biology teams later on.

Cody, as a personal rule, prefers to leave the insect-wrangling to the scientists.

_____________________________

“Do you think the General would ever get married?”

Cody nearly chokes on his drink. He does his best to turn it into a cough, trying to downplay his surprise as elegantly as possible.

By the way Wooley snickers across from him, he’s not sure he’s successful.

“What?” Cody manages once he’s recovered, hearing his voice rise in pitch despite his best efforts to prevent it. “Where did that come from?”

“Just sayin’,” Crys continues, placing down a card that causes Trapper and Boil to groan in annoyance, the both of them tapping out for the round. Cody gratefully takes the opportunity to return his attention to his own hand, and not on the way the conversation has turned.

In a bid to disguise how flustered he is, he throws another few credits to the centre of the table. Act natural, Commander. Crys taps out an aimless pattern on the table with his free hand, shrugging lightly. “If there were anyone he was interested in–”

Cody frowns. “He’s a Jedi.”

“Yeah but if…” Crys drawls with a grin. Cody keeps his eyes trained down to his cards, trying not to let the trooper’s tone worry him - but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s already spiralling. How much does Crys know?

Actually, worse than that, if Crys of all people figured it out, then how many of the others are aware? Are they going to tell the Council? What if this whole conversation is leading to an attempt at blackmail and he’ll lose his position and they’ll send him for reconditioning and–

A laugh erupts from the table in response to a crude joke that Waxer tells, and Cody snaps back into reality.

He forces himself to relax, letting out a slow breath as he internally chastises himself. These are his brothers he’s talking about. The Vode. He trusts them with his life.

Even if the entire damn battalion has figured out about his relationship with the General - though he kriffing hopes they haven’t - they wouldn’t betray him like that. Thinking that they would, even for a moment, is doing them a disservice.

And of course Crys doesn’t know - how could he? They’ve been nothing but careful. The only person that might have figured anything out is Rex, given that he’d zeroed in on Cody’s crush months ago - in fact, Cody would be willing to bet that the Captain at least suspects them of reg breaking - but they don’t talk about it, not really.

What Rex does or doesn’t know has never been a particular point of stress for Cody, though: of all of his brothers, of all of his friends - hell, of anyone in the Galaxy - he’d trust Rex to keep their secret the most.

Cody never intended for Obi-Wan to become a wedge between him and the rest of the Battalion, and for the most part he’s done a good job of avoiding just that… but sometimes, when the paranoia sets in, he finds himself getting too nervous about being found out. He hates the way he sometimes feels himself withdrawing.

He’s always been a very private person, but all the same, a part of him longs for the end of the war, when he can leave this fear behind and stop having to worry about keeping all of it quiet - at least to his closest brothers, anyhow.

He’s more than fine with them not being ‘public’ insofar as keeping the Jedi Council in the dark, but he’s not sure he can handle having to watch everything he says in front of his friends for the rest of time, just in case he lets anything slip.

He’s a soldier, not a politician. Being careful with his words isn’t something he’s ever been particularly adept at.

After a moment of deliberation, Cody plays a card from his hand, glancing up to eye his Vod with feigned nonchalance. “Why do you ask, Crys?”

“I just figured– it’s allowed, right?” Crys says, taking a sip of his drink. A frown crosses his face as he thinks. “As long as they don’t have sex?”

Cody doesn’t get a chance to respond before Boil cuts in with a snort. “Nah, Vod, wrong way around - they can kriff all they like, but they can’t marry.”

“Banthashit,” Wooley pipes up. “I heard that it’s actually–”

As the debate begins to heat up, Cody keeps tactfully quiet, trying not to let his amused smirk tug too far at the corner of his lips.

If only they knew.

Boil grins cockily, leaning back in his chair. “Well, anyway,” he interrupts, and the boys around the table turn their attention to him. “I think he’d marry. Those Senator types seem to be his thing, to answer your earlier question, Crys,” he claims, a remarkable amount of confidence underscoring his tone.

It’s not unfounded, Cody supposes, though he’s surprised that anyone else has heard about Obi-Wan’s youthful tryst with the late Duchess. He supposes that the Jedi wasn’t exactly subtle about his emotions during their reunion, but–

“He and Amidala have certainly been getting cosy lately.”

Cody can’t help the guffaw that leaves him at that, much to Boil’s surprise. He shakes his head, reaching out to clap his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Afraid you’ve been misled, Vod,” he snickers. “If Senator Amidala’s having a secret affair with anyone in the GAR, it certainly isn’t our General.”

Boil blinks as a few of the others around the table chuckle. “Wait– what do you mean?” he asks, prodding at Cody’s arm suspiciously. When the Commander gives no sign of answering, he glances around the table. “What does he mean?”

“Guess you don’t have the clearance to understand that one,” Gregor shrugs, much to the annoyance of Boil and the amusement of everyone else.

“Whatever,” the trooper scowls, watching the game progress as those who haven’t folded yet place more chips down on the table. “I still bet they’re doing it anyway.”

Chatter at the table slowly moves onto other, safer pastures after that, but Cody’s train of thought snags on Crys’ earlier words.

Would Obi-Wan want to get married, if they had the option?

Would Cody?

The vids say that marriage, engagement and the like are something to be taken seriously. The small bit of Mandalorian culture the Vode have latched onto and made their own tells them the same. Usually it should take months, years of courting to even start considering the idea.

Months and years seem to feel very different to Cody than to any natborn.

He’s aware - objectively aware - that the time they’ve been together so far makes up only a small portion of Obi-Wan’s life… but to Cody, it’s been so much longer, relatively speaking.

And who knows how accelerated aging is going to affect his overall lifespan.

Cody frowns to himself, absent-mindedly picking up a card and reorganising his hand. What he and Obi-Wan have had - it feels like long enough, in the grand scheme of things. It might even feel ‘right’ to put a label to the commitment he wants to make.

It’s not strictly necessary, and Force knows the idea of the paperwork of doing everything officially sounds like a headache, but maybe a ceremony of some kind, just the two of them…

Cody swallows past the lump that’s suddenly formed in his throat.

Yeah.

He’d like to ask, he thinks. After the war.

He’ll just have to make sure they both survive to see it.

_____________________________

The fourth day of the mission goes as smoothly and as uneventfully as it’s possible for any mission to go. Charting, analysis, finalised reports on their findings on Hawk, then downtime.

Sweet, cherished downtime.

For most of the men today, that means relaxing with a holofilm marathon (it’s Waxer’s pick tonight, Force help them) but for Cody, it means spending time in Obi-Wan’s quarters, improving his gift to his Jedi.

Most of his evening is spent meditatively - carefully and slowly sanding down the crystal he’d retrieved the day prior, polishing it until it shines and glitters and sits pleasingly in the centre of his palm.

It’s not a kyber crystal, of course, but he can’t help but think that the little stone must be infused with some measure of his own Force energy after all the time he’s spent working on it. Hopefully his Jedi will be able to feel the affection it carries.

Cody doesn’t go to bed until he’s sure it’s exactly up to spec, a soft smile taking shape on his face when he carefully sets it down on the desk and steps back to admire his work.

Tomorrow, he’ll figure out a way of presenting it properly - maybe he’ll find some wood on one of the new planets they’ll visit and carve a small box from it, though he knows he’d have a hard time finding suitable material to make a hinge from.

Ah, well, Cody thinks. He’s sure something will come to him. After all, he has nothing but time.

As Cody shuts off the light for the evening, he instinctively casts his mind out to meet Obi-Wan’s as he drifts. He comes up empty, of course, but he sleepily hopes that the intention will make him more likely to share a dream with his Jedi tonight.

It hasn’t happened yet in the time they’ve been apart, but the Commander’s recent contentment has given way to an unusual sense of optimism.

It’s not long after midnight, on the boundary between the fourth and fifth day, that Cody finds himself falling into a deep, restful sleep.

_____________________________

It is 0930 hours on the fifth day of the excursion when the missive is sent.

Marshal Commander Cody sends confirmation back to the GAR HQ that it has been read and received at 0936 - shockingly late for his usual standards of punctuality.

At 0945, the news is broken to the men. The recorded meeting minutes that haven’t been redacted state that the Marshal Commander excuses himself from the briefing room of The Negotiator at 0948, delegating temporary leadership duties to Waxer.

It is two minutes later, at 0950, when Chief Medical Officer Helix responds to a report of the Marshal Commander having collapsed in an adjoining hallway.

Further notes on the incident have been officially stricken from the record.

Regardless of the specifics, the cause of the disruption spreads through the GAR like wildfire, comms chatter both incoming and outgoing all focused on the same, single fact:

Obi-Wan Kenobi, High Jedi Master and General of the 212th Attack Battalion, is dead.

A second missive is sent at 1004, informing the 212th that their mission is still priority - they are not to return to Republic space until analysis of the local cluster is complete.

Lieutenant Waxer sends confirmation that the missive has been read and received at 1200.

_____________________________

Cody stares ahead at the wall.

Obi-Wan is dead.

Helix had given him clearance to return to his quarters, but he’d come to the Jedi’s instead. Of course he had. Did he have any other choice? His feet had carried him without much conscious input from his head.

The bed underneath him is cold, and Obi-Wan is dead.

Across from him, the azure gem sits on the desk, gleaming and beautiful and perfect in the room’s overhead lighting. He was going to find a box for it today.

His eyes unfocus.

The chrono on the nightstand ticks - a quarter-second behind, he always hated that it runs a quarter-second behind–

Obi-Wan is dead.

Cody stares ahead at the wall.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. It’s a dance he’s so familiar with that the steps may as well be carved into his heart. But this…

‘Numb’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.

He imagines that others in his place might cry, maybe scream. Cody wants to.

He feels something guttural and raw clawing at him, ripping violently at his insides. It wants to find an outlet for its pain, to leave him nothing but a broken, wailing shell of anger and viscera.

But Cody doesn’t do any of that.

Words fail him, and his tears refuse to slip from his eyes.

His lover is dead and so now is he and Cody keeps staring ahead at the wall.

It was, the reports had said, a fall from a building. Cody doesn’t understand - it’s not right. They both understood the risks of war, they’d be foolish not to have done, but a bullet to the chest and a fall?

It feels like some cruel joke. The renowned strategist makes a single bad call about his positioning and that’s all it takes.

If Cody were there–

The Commander nearly, for a moment, reacts, as a hysterical sound tries to drag its way up his throat, leaving shards like shattered glass in its wake. He swallows it down, feeling the way it cuts him.

If he were there.

It’s a cruel exercise to try and run through, but he does it anyway. Over and over and over, hundreds of iterations in which he would have saved the day, provided first aid, recommended a better spot for cover, engaged the attacker on his flank, taken the bullet in his stead.

It doesn’t matter, of course. It doesn’t change anything. Obi-Wan is still dead and he’s still here, alone.

At his side, his comms light up again. Cody has long since put it on silent, but with each update, his eyes drift over to skim the newest updates Waxer is sending over.

Negative, the message reads, they won’t budge.

All of this ruminating, and Cody hasn’t even started on the best part.

After everything the 212th have shared with the General, after spending every waking moment of this war working together, after dedicating their very lives to each other… they’re not important enough to be allowed to go to the funeral.

Instead they’re expected to remain here, in the Outer Rim, charting planets that will end up meaning fucking nothing to the Republic despite their efforts, and then when they return they’ll be gifted with a shiny new General and told to continue as normal.

Cody thinks he’s going to be sick.

With unsteady feet, he rises from the bed, stumbling his way over to the door. He drags one of Obi-Wan’s cloaks off of the hook there, draping it over himself and slowly sinking down to the floor.

The smell of it - the smell of him - is the final straw that breaks him into two.

With a strangled sob, Cody curls in on himself, clutching the cloak to his heart with a white-knuckle grip.

“I don’t know how to live without you.”

The words leave him of their own accord, broken and hoarse with desperation, muffled by the fabric as he cries into it. Now that he’s started, Cody doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to stop.

“Show me how. Please, I can’t…”

Cody’s entire body shakes with the force of his grief. The knowledge that he’ll never again wake up next to his lover, never feel his presence in his mind, entwine their souls as if they’re one…

His mind is shattered, and it will never be whole again. He is half of what he once was.

“I can’t,” he repeats. “Fuck. Fuck.”

He finds sleep, eventually, half-collapsed on the floor at an awkward angle with his limbs tangled in the cloak like it’s a blanket.

When Cody wakes a few hours later, it’s with a painful crick in his neck and a pounding headache. He notes the discomfort with the same detachment with which he takes in the rest of his surroundings.

Numb. Distant.

He folds up the cloak, and places it on the bed.

Dutifully, he dons the expected stoicism of the Marshal Commander and heads out of Obi-Wan’s room, ready to be the leader he needs to be for the sake of his men.

He will answer their questions. He will comfort them. He will be the vessel through which they will find the will to continue.

Somewhere in the dark, nestled deep inside of Cody, a small flame flickers, and promptly extinguishes. There is no fanfare, no time given to mourn. Life will simply be different from here on out.

The Marshall Commander endures.

next chapter

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A/N: Hey. Sorry.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto

#codywan #aspentreewrites #star wars fanfiction #cody x obi wan #my fics #tcw #commander cody #commander cody x obi wan #flowers & cannons #star wars #rako hardeen arc #obi-wan kenobi x commander cody

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aspentreewrites · 2 months ago

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codywan

#yeah

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aspentreewrites · 2 months ago

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and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 8

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter!!) getting together, feelings of inadequacy, miscommunication (very minor), explicit sexual content

Description:

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

Link to read on AO3 here!

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A/N: It's the last day of the month so I technically got this one out on time, phew. Huge shoutout to my wife for proofreading this one literally like 30 minutes ago so I could get it out today :3

Wordcount: 10.4k

Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

✷✷✷✷✷

Cody has learnt many unspoken rules about life in the GAR ever since he left Kamino.

First, the amount of caf needed to effectively run a battalion is always more than you think. No matter how confident you are when requisitioning supplies for the upcoming month, never forget to multiply the ordered amount of bags ordered by 1.3 times, otherwise you’ll run out on the final week of rotations without fail. If a particularly stressful set of missions are scheduled, change the multiplier to 1.5.

Second, shinies are a liability on shore leave. Make sure to assign one of the more experienced troops to surreptitiously watch them and drag them out of trouble if it arises. Subtlety is the key here - being too obvious about tailing will undermine the new trooper’s sense of agency in their first weeks out, but not doing it at all may lead to unwanted mess with the Coruscant guard. Better to prevent problems in the first place than have to call in more favours with Fox.

(Cody had appended a sticky note to the reminders on his desk two months into service, reminding him to under no circumstances ever again choose Boil or Waxer for shiny-watching duty. Their tendency for rule-breaking means that they inevitably end up joining the new kid in whatever trouble they were supposed to cut short, and Cody is inevitably left with an even bigger mess to untangle come sunrise).

Third, the Jetii are always right when they say they have a bad feeling about an upcoming mission or course of action - always listen to their concerns and try to work with them, even if it feels counterintuitive at the time.

And fourth, those unfortunate enough to be designated with the rank of Commander or higher never, ever get an uninterrupted night of sleep.

Entirely expected and on-cue, a shrill, relentless beeping cuts through the darkness of Cody’s room, startling him into wakefulness. The harshness of the sound is about as welcoming as an electrostaff to the skull, and nearly as likely to cause a headache.

Cody fumbles around in the dark for the source of the ringing, eventually finding the offending comm-link on his nightstand. It occurs to him in his half-awake state that he must have put it down in an unusual place last night, as it takes him a few blind swipes to find it - maybe he was just more tired than usual before he went to bed? With uncharacteristic clumsiness, he presses his thumb to the activator and brings it to his ear. “Commander Cody,” he greets, his voice rough with sleep. “What is it?”

Behind him, Obi-Wan lets out a sleepy murmur, curling tighter around his frame. Cody barely processes the movement, sinking back against the welcoming warmth instinctively.

“Oh– uh, right. Yes, Commander,” the voice on the other end says, surprise clearly colouring their tone. Cody frowns. Had they not called him? Perhaps it’s one of the shinies - they always do seem so intimidated by him when they’re first assigned, treading carefully until they’re used to him.

He’d have more patience for it if it weren’t currently 0530 hours in the morning with no missions scheduled for the day ahead.

“Spit it out, trooper. What is it that needs my attention?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” there’s a pause on the other end. “It’s… it’s just the morning check in. I usually give it direct to the General, but given that you’ve answered his comms instead–”

Obi-Wan huffs out a tired chuckle, the soft exhale stirring the hairs at the nape of Cody’s neck as the Commander freezes in place, realising exactly what it is he’s just done.

Of course the comms were out of place - he’s not in his own quarters at all this morning. And he suddenly very much remembers why that is.

Cody does his very best not to swear.

“Oh– yes,” he manages, after a pause he worries is far too incriminating. “We– we’re making battleplans together.”

There’s silence on the other end. For some Gods-forsaken reason, Cody feels the desperate need to fill it. “Which is why I answered his comms for him,” he adds, superfluously.

“That’s… that’s fine, sir.” Another silence. It seems like neither of them know what to say. “Does General Kenobi still want to receive the check-in, then, or…?”

Cody is sure he’s bright red.

“No, that’s– that’s alright. We’ll be at the bridge in an hour.”

The trooper sounds relieved that they don’t have to endure this awkward conversation any longer when they reply, “copy that.”

The comm-line goes dead, taking Cody’s professional reputation swiftly along with it.

A soft groan slips from his lips, burying his face into the pillow beneath him, as if it might hide him from the questions that are surely coming their way. The arm slung across his torso tightens, Obi-Wan shifting so he’s lying practically half on top of him - Cody can sense his amusement, flitting through the bond without an attempt to disguise it.

“It’s fine,” the Jedi mumbles sleepily.

“It’s not,” Cody protests.

Despite his words, he can’t help the soft sigh of contentment that escapes him as Obi-Wan gently squeezes his arm around him, telling him without words that they’re in this together.

It’s… nice. Very nice, in fact. Cody isn’t entirely sure what it is he and Obi-Wan are doing, what it is he wants them to be doing, but… he’s content with this for the moment, however they’d label it.

It’s a strange thought. Cody hasn’t given much time to the question of what comes after a night like that - dreams of the future are not a luxury a clone like him tends to get. Still, he can’t help the way his mind drifts to the dangerous idea, the possibility of not only surviving to see the end of the war, but of a happy life beyond it.

Some of the boys had full fantasies picked out - picket fence house, kids, the works - but such indulgent daydreaming always felt too naively hopeful to him.

Still, he allows himself this one small moment of weakness. If, Cody thinks to himself, if he and Obi-Wan make it through this all in one piece, he’d quite like to stay. Maybe not in the GAR, or whatever is left of it then, but stay near the Temple on Coruscant. Near to Obi-Wan, near to where he imagines most of his brothers will settle.

His mind drifts.

What does a soldier do, when not in the fight?

No, that’s not quite the question. A normal soldier exists as an entity even off-duty - they have the life-that-came-before, something that they can look back on and build from when the fight is done.

The clones were born into the fight. They don’t get the privilege of a ‘before’.

So, Cody supposes, it’s only logical that he’ll have to look forward, try something new.

He’s always felt intrigued by art, ever since a mission tailing a mark brought him through a gallery on Corellia - though he doesn’t particularly profess to understand it very much. He’d always assumed his battle-worn hands were too calloused for the delicacy that a paintbrush requires, but then again, it’s not like he’s ever really tried.

A soft hum escapes his lips as he considers what pursuing that life might look like.

His smile is short lived, souring quickly as his thoughts crash down rather rapidly to the real world. The real world where they’re very much waging a war, and part of that war is going to mean getting up in an hour and facing down the trooper who just called them and acting like nothing is amiss.

“I’m gonna transfer to the 501st,” Cody declares to the darkness of the room.

“They don’t know, Cody, I promise,” Obi-Wan insists. A glance over Cody’s shoulder shows that the Jedi is frowning at the statement. “The 501st?” His nose wrinkles. “They’d drive you up the wall. They’re lawless over there.”

Cody rolls himself over in Obi-Wan’s hold so that they’re practically nose to nose. Gently, he reaches out a hand to smooth away the crease at the Jedi’s brow with the pad of his thumb.

“Rex does his best,” Cody counters. “They’re just… enthusiastic.” He pauses when Obi-Wan raises an unconvinced eyebrow. The crease quickly returns, much to Cody’s dissatisfaction. “Admittedly, they’re worse when they’re egged on by Skywalker,” he concedes.

“As I said,” the Jedi continues easily, a roguish smile taking shape under his beard. “Lawless.”

Cody decides to ignore the complaint. “I’m still going, to save me from the humiliation if nothing else. Maybe I’ll change my name, while I’m at it.”

“Mhmm.” Obi-Wan yawns, the playful indignation leaving him in an instant as he relaxes. Something flutters in Cody’s chest - he looks more at ease than he’s ever known him to be.

The bond radiates a feeling that holds layers of depth that Cody doesn’t quite yet understand how to untangle, but he knows enough to recognise that it altogether amounts to the feeling of safety. The Jedi smiles. “What would you change it to, dear?”

Cody rubs gentle circles over Obi-Wan’s side with his thumb, considering the answer that would elicit the most aggrieved response from his lover - his lover, it still doesn’t feel real - it takes him a moment, but eventually, he settles on something satisfactory. “... Ben,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

His effort is rewarded in the immediate narrowing of accusatory eyes.

“You can’t just steal my go-to alias–”

“It’s not like you’re using it right now.”

… Accusatory eyes that can’t help but crinkle at the corners. So much for being a good actor. “You’re ridiculous,” Obi-Wan returns, mirth filling his words despite an admirable attempt at remaining irritated.

“I prefer the term ‘hilarious’, actually, given the way you’re laughi–”

Cody’s sentence is promptly and succinctly cut off by Obi-Wan’s lips covering his.

Well, far be it for him to complain.

Fingers sink into hair, curling into soft strands and pulling impossibly closer. A gentle tug, and Obi-Wan sighs into his mouth, the sound sending his heart rate spiralling. Cody thinks he might like to freeze time forever here, if he had the choice. Well, he might, except–

Morning breath, he discovers rather quickly, is a strange sensory experience that the holofilms never mention. Not outright unpleasant, and certainly still preferable to not kissing the man in his arms, but strange nonetheless.

Obi-Wan gingerly pulls back, freeing Cody from his embrace in the process. He sheepishly grins, reaching up to push back the mess of hair that’s fallen over his forehead.

Stars, does he even know what he looks like? Cody wonders if the other man is ever aware of just how much simple movements like that make him feel dizzy.

“You’re right,” the Jedi muses. “We should probably at least brush our teeth before continuing.”

The ship’s artificial lighting has crept in enough that Obi-Wan can evidently see the confusion that’s overtaken Cody’s face.

“I didn’t say anything about– oh.”

Obi-Wan must have sensed his direct line of thought through the bond.

Cody suddenly sits up in the bed, feeling strangely vulnerable as the sheets pool around his hips - not at his nakedness or their proximity, though that’s certainly still a little disorienting to be faced with - but at the realisation that he no longer has anywhere to hide, not even internally. That… will take some adjustment.

“Sorry– it’s just unnerving that you can…”

He trails off, not wanting to say anything to offend Obi-Wan. It’s a privilege to be connected like this to him, of course, and Cody mentally chastises himself for his discomfort. The last thing he wants to seem is ungrateful.

At the same time, it’s disquieting to think that his privacy is forever forfeited by the bond, despite his appreciation for it. It’s a lot to get used to.

Obi-Wan tilts his head, remaining quiet for a moment as he watches Cody carefully. It’s a small measure of comfort to see no judgement in his gaze, only sympathy and understanding.

“Does it upset you?” the Jedi asks, his tone a familiar, careful neutrality. A negotiation tactic that Cody’s seen before during their many diplomatic excursions.

Cody can’t help the way he softens as he recognises what Obi-Wan is doing - trying to meet him where he’s at before offering a middle ground. Always so thoughtful.

A small smile tugs at his lips despite himself, and he hesitates only briefly before shaking his head. “No, I– I do like it.”

He pauses, well aware of the fact that the sentiment is woefully inadequate for describing just how strongly he feels about the bond they share. Despite knowing he should say more, he still finds that his tongue ties when trying to put the complexity of it all into words.

Until recently, his inability to talk about his emotions was a non-issue - a point of pride even, something he thought he was above needing to do. Learning to disentangle himself from the genuine belief the Kaminoans had instilled in him that clones are simply more resistant to feeling any form of emotion is… an ongoing process.

Regardless, he pushes through the discomfort, reaching out to take Obi-Wan’s hand in his. He stalls for time by brushing his thumb slowly over his knuckles, letting the warmth of the contact ground him. “I like it,” he repeats. “But… a little control over it might be nice.”

Obi-Wan smiles absently, reaching out to idly trace a feather-light finger over an old scar that dances across Cody’s ribcage. Not something won from battle, for once - this was earned during a particularly drunken night after the 212th returned home from their first campaign.

He was told by Wolffe, much later, that he’d apparently taken a tumble from a speeder, but it seems that no one remembers anything else about the incident, despite Cody’s subtle attempts at asking around.

He’d somehow woken up in the correct bunk, so it couldn’t have been all that bad. He’d profusely thanked the Stars for his rapid healing, though even that couldn’t fix the way he’d recoiled from the mere smell of Phattro for six standard months after that day.

“I forget that I’ve been learning to shield since birth,” Obi-Wan murmurs, “and that something of this intensity will be incredibly new to you.” He cocks his head, offering a soft smile. “I can teach you, if you’d like - some more advanced techniques than the ones you already know. I imagine you’ll pick it all up rather quickly.”

Cody lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Of course he had nothing to worry about, this is Obi-Wan. He’d move mountains to help him feel comfortable.

He nods his affirmation with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’d like that,” Cody says, relief colouring his tone. “Not that I want to hold back from you, but–”

“But sharing your mind should be a choice,” Obi-Wan cuts in, sitting up beside him with a slow stretch. “I understand entirely, my dear.”

After leaning in to give his Jedi a grateful, lingering kiss, Cody wrinkles his nose, remembering exactly why they’d started this conversation in the first place. “Alright. Brushing teeth first, then teaching,” he declares, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and reaching out to flick on the light.

Obi-Wan groans, covering his eyes briefly, but a soft laugh leaves his lips despite the noise of complaint. “Whatever you want, my darling.”

_____________________________

They spend the next half an hour sitting across from each other, going over the complexities of Jedi shielding techniques. Having someone actively test your mental barriers by pushing on them as if they’re something physical is a… unique experience, Cody learns - though Obi-Wan is careful to lead him through the experience slowly and carefully. While he knows he has a long way to go, the Commander leaves Obi-Wan’s quarters that morning feeling vastly reassured by the progress he’s made already.

Obi-Wan, on his end, promises to close himself off from the bond entirely until Cody feels a little less overwhelmed by it all - a fact that he’s immeasurably grateful for, even if he finds himself missing the warm, steady presence at the back of his mind as they go about their morning.

It would be a stretch to say that he had gotten used to it over the past rotation, but he definitely feels its absence.

Just for a few days, Cody thinks, and then we can start opening up to one another properly again.

He has absolutely no idea how the Jedi cope with experiencing this inherent connection to literally every living being that they come into contact with - he imagines that if it were him, he’d have torn half of his hair out by now.

Then again, he supposes, most of the Jedi he’s known with hair have started going grey a little before their time, his General being no exception to that rule. Perhaps empathy induced stress is just part of the package for them.

Today’s morning briefing, much to Cody’s relief, is a quiet one, and Obi-Wan is thankfully proven right about there being no dramatic line of questioning queued up for them about his supposed whereabouts last night.

Still, Cody does his best to ensure he’s standing as far across the table from the General as possible, glancing over to him only when necessary as they go over the day’s agenda. Every second of eye contact is starting to feel dangerous, and he’s all too aware that any slip up could give them away. There’s going against regs, and then there’s… this.

He's aware he’s being dramatic, but that doesn’t ease the worry that constricts his throat every time he thinks about it. Cody hopes the paranoia will ease with time.

They’d docked back at Coruscant overnight, and with the rare opportunity of a free schedule ahead of them, the two had decided to give their men a day of leave. It had been far too long since they were last able to offer some good news, and Gods know they deserve every reprieve they can get.

The order is sent out over comms as the meeting adjourns, and Obi-Wan is quick to clear his throat, making his way over to Cody’s side of the table. Shortening the distance between them feels like a tactically dangerous maneuver, but Cody tries his best to not think of it as such - if Obi-Wan is acting as if everything’s normal between them, he can do the same.

“I thought we might make our way to a shooting range this morning, given that we have found ourselves with time,” the Jedi suggests quietly.

Cody isn’t all too surprised. Obi-Wan has a tendency to choose to spend every waking moment of his day immersed in training or meditation - he often proposes they make productive use of their ‘downtime’ together, if it can even be called that. Cody, who has a tendency to itch whenever he’s forced to be still and not work for more than an hour, is always happy to go along with him.

He rolls his shoulders, powering down the display on the holotable as the last of the troops trickle out.

“Oh, I can go and set up the sims in the training room if you’d like, sir.”

He’s already mentally working through the drills they could run together. There’s not much variety in the duo sims, as they were mostly designed for full squad exercises, but that doesn’t mean they can’t modify something to fit their needs.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, offering a small smile. He places a hand on Cody’s shoulder, the weight of it comforting even over the plastoid of his pauldron. “That won’t be necessary, Cody,” he says warmly. “There’s actually one that recently opened on the surface that I’ve heard is fairly unique - if, perhaps, a little pedestrian for someone of your skills.”

Now that is unusual. Cody scrutinises Obi-Wan for a moment. Without the bond being open, he’s left to try and analyse his body language to decipher his meaning, the subtleties of the way he speaks. Running through a training drill outside of the barracks…?

He’s left with one conclusion - there must be something that his General needs to talk to him about that he can’t approach where the others might overhear - and that inherently suggests something serious. Perhaps a strategy overview of an upcoming mission, or some classified information that they need to go over.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve stepped away from the rest of the team to go over strictly need-to-know intel and plans, but for the life of him, Cody can’t figure out what this would be in relation to. It’s not like there’s much on the agenda for upcoming missions this week. Regardless, he gives Obi-Wan a cautious nod.

“Of course, sir,” he replies, heading for the door and trying to not let his racing mind get the better of him. “I’ll just grab my pack.”

_____________________________

It’s only mid-morning when Cody finds himself regretting his decision. He’s certain that has to be a record of some kind.

Staring down at the small, unmodified pistol in his hands, Cody wonders if it’s too late to fake being sick as a means to get out of this, though he knows Obi-Wan would see right through it.

He casts a scrutinising gaze over the blaster, taking note of the bolt of lightning painted over the side in a sickly green. His mouth presses into a thin line.

Obi-Wan is not quite successful at stifling a chuckle behind his hand, flicking his wrist in an agile motion to twirl his own weapon in an arc. His, for some reason, sports a decal of an electric pink rancor over the grip. “You’re not impressed by their offerings?” he asks innocently, gesturing enthusiastically around the establishment he’d chosen.

And what an establishment it is, Cody thinks sarcastically as he casts an eye around the room. The whole thing is dimly lit, and absolutely everything that’s not nailed down is splashed with stripes of fluorescent paint, glowing obscenely under the UV light that the entire range is apparently drenched in.

Arcade machines line the walls, low, bassy electronic music thrums through the air, and the employee uniform is an absolutely dreadful attempt at replicating military style. The second the two of them had walked in, they’d been accosted by one of the workers (and Cody had needed to fight against every trained instinct not to tackle them when they’d rushed over without warning), who promptly launched into an overdramatic, very rehearsed speech about how they must be customers who have arrived here to ‘save the Galaxy’ from ‘the invaders across the stars’.

Obi-Wan had seemed positively delighted by the sales pitch. Cody, on the other hand, had spent the next few minutes silently mourning for the credits his General had all too readily handed over the counter.

Literally any other venture would have been a better spend of his allowance. Hell, even throwing the pouch of credits out of an airlock would at least have been momentarily amusing.

Realising that his General apparently wants an answer out of him, Cody raises a brow, glancing down as he hesitantly looks the blaster over again. He’s unable to disguise his disgruntled expression - not that he’s really trying that hard to look thrilled. He offers Obi-Wan a shrug, trying to find the least offensive thing he can say. “It’s… not exactly a DC-15,” he mutters, and the Jedi snorts.

“It’ll do the job.”

“Mm.”

As the pair make their way to the back of the range where the targets have been set up, one question nags at the back of Cody’s mind - why here, of all places, for a secretive meeting? It’s obvious that some part of Obi-Wan finds this funny, but there has to be another reason for it, too.

While it seems like an… irregular choice of meeting place, to put it mildly, Cody does have to concede that if anyone were looking to listen in and pick up compromising GAR secrets, they wouldn’t be looking to hear them here, of all places.

Perhaps it’s so bizarre that it winds back around again to being genius?

Regardless of his reasoning, Obi-Wan seems insistent that they actually try out the Force-damned exercise, humming to himself jovially as he looks down the piss-poor excuse for sights that his choice of blaster has attached.

He shoots Cody a sidelong grin as the countdown for the session begins, an amused sparkle in his eye. “Well, my dear, shall we show them how a real soldier does it?”

Despite his bafflement at the whole situation, Cody finds himself wanting to smile in turn at Obi-Wan’s infectious, if very misplaced, enthusiasm. He rolls his shoulders, raising the - it would be an insult to call it a weapon, really - cheaply made equipment he’d been provided with up to shoulder level. His eyes narrow as he watches the vaguely humanoid shaped holo-targets approach.

Tacky, he thinks to himself, even as a smirk tugs at his lips. But what the hell. They’re already here, right? May as well make the most of it.

Cody nods, sparing a glance back at the workers at the entrance. No one else is here at such an early hour - it’s not a stretch to think their performance is going to be watched. “Let’s give ‘em a show.”

_____________________________

“On your flank!”

“Got it, thank you. Seventy five!”

“Ah– Sixty four.”

“You have some catching up to do, then.”

Cody snorts, relishing in the feel of the steady presence behind him as he lets off three more shots.

Sixty five,

Near miss - they dodged left when he expected right–

Sixty six.

“Not all of us have magical energy swords that can take down multiple clankers in one sweep,” he retorts. They turn a few degrees clockwise, not needing to check in with each other in order to remain back-to-back, instead just allowing themselves to be as in-sync as they always are. It’s as natural as breathing.

A shower of sparks answers Cody’s next shot, a pile of circuitry left exposed and twitching as it falls to the ground. Sixty seven. “I’d wager you’d be behind me if you were also using a blaster right now.”

Obi-Wan scoffs, his lightsaber buzzing as he continues to deflect shot after shot.

“An unworthy excuse, Commander. You’re almost as much of a sore loser as Anakin.”

The lighthearted jab has its intended effect. Cody narrows his eyes behind his helmet, knowing he can’t let such a wound to his reputation stand unchallenged.

Time to stop holding back.

He lowers his aim, angling a shot at the leg of a nearby B2 to send it surging to the ground. In the half-second before it completely collapses, Cody squeezes the trigger again, this time aiming right at the head - now exactly level with that of the B1 behind it.

The single bolt tears through the machinery with pinpoint accuracy, disabling both droids immediately.

He doesn’t wait to watch them fall, already locking his gaze onto his next target.

The droids may be literal machines, but Cody has the programming to match - and outdo - the best of them. Blaster raised, he takes one, two, three more shots in a brutally efficient arc, counting each head as they roll from the power of each hit.

They pivot together again. Clone and Jedi, an unstoppable whirlwind of power, even outnumbered as they are on the battlefield.

Cody smirks as another clanker falls in front of him. “Seventy three.”

“... Seventy eight.”

The smirk grows wider. “You’re slacking, sir.”

He hears a soft chuckle behind him. “Perhaps I’m just outmatched. I shouldn’t have prodded you so, even if the results were… admirable.”

‘Admirable’. Cody feels his chest glow at the praise, even as he knows it's well-earned. He turns sharply to take out a sniper droid that was aiming for Obi-Wan’s side.

“Make it up to me by buying a round for the boys at 79’s later.”

He doesn’t need to see his General’s face to know that he’s smiling.

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the Galaxy.”

_____________________________

A timer goes off above them, promptly signalling the end of their half-hour slot.

Cody blinks slowly, as if coming out of a daze. Is it really over already? His eyes turn upwards to the scoreboard, displaying a bright red holo number beneath each of the names they’d given to the employee earlier.

Ben: 106

Fett: 106

Obi-Wan sighs beside him, placing a hand on his hip as he follows Cody’s gaze. “I suppose it was too much to ask that this decided which one of us was the most skilled sharpshooter, once and for all. Perhaps we’ll just have to keep coming back,” he teases, laughing heartily at the look of exasperation on Cody’s face.

Cody casts one last scathing glance around the loud, overbearing premises that surround them. “Respectfully, Obi-Wan, if we never came back here again, it would be too soon.”

They make their way back to the front of the building, handing their ‘blasters’ back over the counter to the worker on shift. Cody forces himself to smile politely as they launch off into a theatrical closing speech to try and get them to come back in the future, and he does his best to not visibly wince when Obi-Wan decides to leave a tip. He’s not entirely sure he succeeds, but he hopes trying counts for something.

As they step outside together, Cody squints against the bright light of the morning. The sunlight, weak as it is at this time of year, serves as a stark contrast to the dim atmosphere of the shooting range, and it takes him a moment to orient himself.

Obi-Wan walks alongside him, subtly steering the both of them towards a nearby park. Cody has always thought that that’s one of the best things about the surface - green space.

Kamino and Coruscant both hold their fair share of dull, grey concrete. Maybe it’s a simplistic sentiment, but Cody can’t help but feel like it’s nice to remember that nature exists, once in a while. Between spending time holed up in his quarters in the barracks, and then down in the Lower Levels on shore leave, he doesn’t tend to see much non-Sentient life in his day to day.

And this park is beautiful, if slightly over cultivated.

Their arms brush against one another as they walk, and though Cody wishes he could reach for Obi-Wan’s hand, he knows it wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do, out in the open as they are.

Still no mention of work, he muses to himself. Did he not think the range was private enough to talk? Maybe that’s why we’re coming here - more open space, though that also means more angles we could be watched from–

Cody shakes off the train of thought as he notices Obi-Wan watching him, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves in a recognisable, yet rare, gesture. Is he… nervous?

“You’ve been quiet. Did you… enjoy yourself?” the Jedi asks tentatively, watching Cody’s reaction carefully.

Cody blinks quizzically over at Obi-Wan, not quite sure how he’s supposed to answer.

After a prolonged silence, the Jedi slows to a stop underneath a tree that’s covered in pleasing lilac coloured blossoms. He gazes up at it with a knitted brow, and reaches up to run a slow hand through his hair.

“I… know it wasn’t the most romantic of places, but I thought– well, I thought it might be more ‘us’ than the typical type of thing, and–”

Romantic?!

Cody opens his mouth, then promptly closes it again as his mind scrambles to catch up.

“This…” he frowns, entirely bewildered. “This wasn’t a covert strategy meeting?”

Obi-Wan’s attention snaps back to him, and he looks at him like he’s lost his mind. Cody wonders for a moment if he actually might have. “What– by the Force, no, of course not! It was a date, Cody!”

… Ah.

That would explain… a lot, actually.

After a prolonged beat of silence, the Jedi deflates, his shoulders caving forwards slightly as he sighs again. “Or… it was supposed to be a date.”

A wry smile tugs at his lips as he reaches out to pluck a single petal from a blossom on a low-hanging branch nearby. “Not a very successful one though, evidently, if you didn’t even realise that was my intention.”

Cody feels like he’s running on a delay. “You…”

He glances around them, making sure it’s definitely safe to speak freely before he steps off the path to join Obi-Wan underneath the tree. The dappled sunlight plays across the Jedi’s cheekbones, accentuating the sharpness of his features. “You wanted to take me out on a date?”

There’s that look again. Obi-Wan looks even more lost than Cody does, now. “... Yes?” he responds, as if it’s obvious. As if it’s not a big deal at all.

A date. A date. It doesn’t compute.

“Is that what we’re doing?” Cody asks, before he can think it through. He hates the way it comes out, hearing his doubt reflected back as the words leave him.

Alarm flashes across Obi-Wan’s face, followed by something dangerously close to hurt, though he quickly schools it. Cody immediately regrets his tone, biting down on the inside of his cheek, hard. Di’kut. Why would you say that?

“Is it… not?” the Jedi asks, softly. He lowers his voice slightly, his eyes falling to the petal he holds in his palm. “We shared a bed last night. We… shared more than that.” He returns his gaze to meet Cody’s - searching, hesitant.

Shit, shit, shit. Fix this. Quickly.

Cody reaches out to grasp Obi-Wan’s hand, clasping it tightly. “Sorry– no, I didn’t mean–” he exhales sharply, teeth gritting together as he tries to get his thoughts in order.

“You know exactly how I feel. You were in my head, when we…” he starts, biting his lip as he trails off. “I just– I didn’t consider it was an option because– I didn’t think I would ever… I never imagined anyone would want to…”

Obi-Wan takes in a quiet breath, his expression softening as he realises what Cody’s trying to say.

“You didn’t think anyone would want to take you out on a date,” he finishes for him. Cody nods, feeling his cheeks flush in humiliation, as he keeps his eyes trained down at their intertwined hands.

It’s embarrassing. He’s a fully grown man - a soldier, and a well-adjusted one at that. And yet here he is, feeling like a mere child, naive and foolish in the face of someone who knows what it’s like to be a normal person.

“I’m a clone,” he murmurs, feeling a sudden bone-deep weariness sweep through him. He’s so tired of feeling like he’s on the back foot when it comes to something as simple as existing. So very tired. “That type of thing is for other people. We don’t get… that.”

A gentle sigh leaves his lover’s lips.

“Oh, Cody.”

Carefully, Obi-Wan prises Cody’s hands from his. Taking the blossom petal carefully between his forefinger and thumb, he reaches forwards, nestling it in a curl just behind Cody’s ear. “You deserve more than you have been given - all of you do. I’m so very sorry that the Galaxy has denied you the kindness - the humanity - that all beings should experience.”

He gently lifts Cody’s chin, giving him a small, sad smile. His eyes burn with a sincerity that makes Cody’s breath hitch and eyes burn, though he blinks hard to force the feeling away. “I cannot make it right, darling, but I can promise this; I will do all I can to show you the love you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi is many things.

He is kind, certainly, and his wit is sharper than any blade Cody’s ever come across - but while he is a genuine, honourable man, it is rare for him to express such heartfelt sentiment without at least a few layers of dry irony to hide behind. This, right here, is his Jedi stripped bare, and Cody isn’t entirely sure he knows what to do with that.

Words fail him. He wants to tell Obi-Wan that he loves him, wants to express just how much the promise means to him, but the words stick in his throat. He knows it’s alright, though - Obi-Wan’s expression tells him that he understands, without the need for him to say it aloud.

They return to strolling the path not long after. It’s still quiet at this hour, which helps to soothe Cody’s racing mind. Their earlier display was risky, and though he knows it’s unlikely that anyone saw them - let alone anyone who would recognise them - the fact that he doesn’t have to worry about being court martialed on top of everything else today is a relief.

When they finally stop once again, this time to observe the flitting motion of a songbird crossing their path, Cody finds he can just about muster up the ability to speak.

“As long as we avoid that particular shooting range in future, more dates sound good to me,” he says softly, his eyes trained ahead on the expansive view.

Obi-Wan’s hand finds his, for just long enough to give a supportive squeeze.

“Consider it blacklisted,” he replies quietly. The smile in his voice is clear as crystal.

_____________________________

For someone with a lifespan as short as a clone’s, the passage of time is much more easily marked in notable events than in standard years.

One month after that day, Cody finally feels comfortable enough for the two of them to completely open the bond up again. The first touch of Obi-Wan’s mind to his after so long apart feels like coming home - a drink of filtered water after weeks of travelling alone in the desert. He wonders, awed, how he went so long without it.

Over the coming weeks, the two of them start to experiment with the bond, testing what, exactly, they can project to one another, and at what distances.

They quickly determine that it while isn’t as outright strong as a Force bond between two Jedi, it’s just as intense at close enough range. As soon as they’re a planet’s distance apart, however, the connection dwindles swiftly. Once there’s an entire system between them, they’re unable to feel each other at all.

(The exception to this rule, they discover after a particularly odd night, is that they tend to share strange, faint dreams of one another after a while of being physically apart. They haven’t yet been able to pin down exactly how and when this happens, though ‘it’s on the agenda’, as Obi-Wan puts it).

As far as what they can send through the bond goes, they’ve figured out that with a lot of concentration they can share vague impressions of memories, but nothing clearer than that. Obi-Wan feels confident that that’s something they’ll be able to work on, with enough practice and time.

Time. Cody likes the sound of that idea more with each passing day. The thought of a future.

Dates are something he settles into quickly, much to his surprise. He and Obi-Wan initially stick to a strict schedule of making time for one another in whatever way they’re able to biweekly (even this means simply calling each other and trying to find something to talk about something that isn’t work while they’re away on separate assignments. After a little bit of work, they’d managed to set up a secure Comms channel that flies under the Republic’s radar, though Cody is both diligent and paranoid enough to ensure he re-scrambles the frequency once per standard month).

The schedule, unfortunately, goes out the window rather fast, after a few back-to-back campaigns mean that they’re apart more than together. By this point though, they’ve set enough of a routine to mean they thankfully don’t fall out of the habit. As the months progress, the two of them continue to steadily make their way through Coruscant’s impressive list of cafes, galleries, and museums whenever they have time.

Cody finds that he likes the ‘normal’ dates the most - well, holofilms excepted.

Obi-Wan, as it turns out, is the Galaxy’s most terrible pedant wherever anything he considers himself an expert in is concerned.

Inaccuracies about anything - the Force, the Jedi, the biology of certain plant-life, ancient languages - they’re like tooka-nip to him, and he can’t help but comment about it. It’s sweet, endearing even, for about five minutes, but after the twentieth interruption to correct mistakes in the first quarter of a film, Cody often finds himself willing to do anything to shut the other man up before he drives him up the wall completely.

… Which often leads to other exciting results, but also means that Cody needs to take some of his very limited free time to re-watch whatever it was later on his own to see the ending. He hates leaving anything half-finished, terrible holofilms included.

Outside of the new routine of his relationship with Obi-Wan though, in the coming months everything around Cody continues as normal.

The war ramps up.

His brothers die.

New flowers bloom in The Negotiator’s nursery.

Life goes on.

Some days, though, are more memorable than others - mostly for the wrong reasons.

It’s an unfittingly sunny Taungsday when Obi-Wan has part of his heart ripped away from him. Cody does his best to provide comfort.

“I’m sorry about Satine,” he tells him. If there’s one thing Cody truly understands, if there’s one thing that links him and the rest of the Vode to every other Sentient in the Galaxy, it’s grief. Ironic, perhaps, that something so cruel is ultimately the equaliser they’ve been fighting for.

He doesn’t feel jealousy as he pulls his lover’s head into his lap, carding gentle fingers through his hair. Cody may not have the wealth of years of experience that nat-borns do, but he understands that love is complicated and many-layered.

“It’s alright,” says Obi-Wan, but the tremor in his voice says otherwise.

Cody can only hold him.

Some nights, it’s all they can do for one another. Other nights, they talk and laugh and are nearly able to forget that there’s a war outside.

At one point, Cody realises with a start that he can’t actually pinpoint the last time he slept alone in his own quarters. He imagines he probably should feel some measure of guilt at the notion - a past version of him would have fretted about being an imposition on his Jedi, about flaunting the regs so very blatantly after prizing himself on his strictness for so many years.

As it is, he finds himself feeling more guilty about not feeling guilty at all.

“After the war,” Obi-Wan tells him one evening, in the dark of night while they’re drifting off to sleep, “I think I might leave this all behind.”

Cody stirs sleepily, tucking his head onto the other man’s chest. “Where would you go?”

“Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere we could start a normal life.” The swiftness of the answer tells Cody that he’s thought about it before, probably more than once, and his heart swells in his chest.

“I’d like that,” Cody yawns. He knows, deep down, that he could never put too much distance between himself and his brothers once the war ends, but the thought of disappearing off with Obi-Wan to a remote farmstead on a planet he’s never heard of sounds like a nice fantasy, even if he can’t let himself believe that it could actually be real.

Maybe they’d adopt a tooka. Maybe they’d adopt children.

Probably not, in all honesty - he doesn’t think that kind of life is for him. But to have the option…

He tilts his head to press a kiss to the hollow of the Jedi’s throat, feeling the rumble under his lips of the hum he earns in response. “I’d like that a lot.”

The war demands everything of them, pressing down on them like a weight that only gets more suffocating with each passing day.

In the end, Cody thinks he only gets through it all because of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, who has become a sanctuary from the front line. Obi-Wan, who has become his home.

Obi-Wan, who is currently struggling to focus, his attention stretched as taut as the rope binding his wrists to the headboard. He’s drawn back upwards by Cody’s touch at his jaw, encouraging his dazed gaze to return to him.

“Eyes on me,” Cody commands, keeping his voice soft and low. “That’s it. Now, cyar’ika - ground rules.”

The man beneath him shudders, his eyelids fluttering, and nods. “Ground rules,” he repeats. Breathy, needy.

Cody takes a moment to appreciate the sight below him.

Obi-Wan, above all else, prizes his composure, his ability to keep his cards secret while observing the table. It’s how he’s made it so far in the war, how he’s faced down death countless times and survived - his ability to remain unruffled, at least to the eyes of those who would face him.

It’s an incredibly effective intimidation tactic that only gets more potent the more the enemy seems to be winning. There’s nothing quite like being snarked at calmly by the man with blood dripping down his face to realise that you were never truly the one in control to begin with.

Which is why his decision to let go of that veneer of poise, to allow himself to be reduced to such vulnerability, carries such weight. The sheer trust he’s putting in Cody is enough to make the Commander’s heart squeeze in his chest.

Stars above, he thinks, watching as Obi-Wan obediently waits for him, I would do anything for you.

“I know you said you could handle this,” Cody begins softly, watching the Jedi carefully to ensure he’s listening, “but I don’t want to hurt you. I know we have the bond, but I need something more… concrete.”

He trails a slow finger over the side of Obi-Wan’s ribs, watching intently as his muscles of his torso jump and tense under the light touch. Force, he wants to ravish him, to take and take until he forgets his own name… but Cody forces himself to be patient, just for a few more moments.

“Say ‘kyrdir’,” Cody continues, meeting his Jedi’s gaze, “and we stop immediately, no questions asked. ‘Pare’, is a call to readjust.” He pauses, letting the words sink in. “Repeat that to me, darling.”

Obi-Wan swallows thickly, his breath stuttering slightly at the command in Cody’s tone. Cody feels it through the bond, whenever he makes… creative use of the tone he reserves for instructing his men - the way it sparks white hot flames of desire, pooling low and heavy within Obi-Wan’s gut, almost enough to make the Jedi forget how to think. It’s nearly always followed by a curling of shame and self-reprimand, embarrassment at his loss of self-control, but Cody is determined to chase that all away entirely before the night is done.

“Kyrdir is stop,” Obi-Wan repeats, his flush deepening, beginning to creep down his neck now. “Pare is readjust.” His tongue doesn’t quite wrap around the Mando’a syllables as easily as Cody’s does, but he’s been improving as of late. Cody rather likes the way the words sound, falling from his lips.

“Very good,” he praises, drawing out the syllables and drinking in the way his lover shivers in response.

With a critical eye, he examines his handiwork with the rope as Obi-Wan instinctively tugs against it amidst his light squirming. It’s tight enough to not have too much give, which was his main concern - but he doesn’t want him to hurt himself.

“Comfortable, mesh’la?” Cody asks, smiling as Obi-Wan nods breathlessly. “Perfect.”

Without warning, Cody lowers his head, his teeth finding the juncture between Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder and biting down hard. Obi-Wan gasps, his body bucking at the sharp sensation. Cody flattens his tongue against the sting, soothing it quickly.

Hickeys are a dangerous thing to leave when discretion is key, but here, Cody knows, right here, is just the right place for a mark to not peek out under Obi-Wan’s robes, while still being close enough to cause a thrill.

In early days, the two of them were far too cautious to leave any kind of evidence, but Cody has since learnt exactly how far he can push without crossing the line. It sends heat thrumming through his veins to feel just how much Obi-Wan loves it, too.

He nips at the bruise he’s left before kissing down lower, to his collarbone, his chest, his torso. After each press of his lips, he scrapes his teeth against the Jedi’s skin, tasting him, marking him.

With each dig of his nails, each lingering bite, Obi-Wan shudders and keens beneath Cody. Pain, the two of them had slowly discovered together, is something the Jedi craves in small doses.

Nothing else seems to ruin him quite as quickly.

It makes sense, Cody thinks. When your body has become used to withstanding horrors that most people couldn’t even comprehend - blaster burns, stab wounds, electroshock torture - all feeling has the tendency to be numbed in intensity.

The choice then, to experience pain but to not be in any real danger, is a precious one to have the ability to make. It provides a sense of control for him that’s been all too lacking in the chaos of the past few years of warfare… and Cody is all too happy to provide.

He continues in his ministrations, dipping ever lower until he can sink to his knees at the edge of the bed, nudging Obi-Wan’s thighs apart. He doesn’t miss the way the Jedi’s breath hitches, the way he’s already such a mess for him. He’d needed this today, it seems.

Cody nuzzles his face into the inside of Obi-Wan’s thigh, nipping at the skin there as he gently presses the Jedi’s hips down into the bed below, holding him still with ease. Obi-Wan sucks in a sharp inhale as Cody turns his head to bite at his other thigh, ignoring his neglected cock as it twitches painfully.

“Cody…” Obi-Wan hisses, grunting as his lover licks a stripe up to his pelvis. He’s been hard for far too long, but Cody enjoys drawing out the tease. “Force, have mercy.”

“It’s not the Force you need to be begging, cyare,” Cody murmurs, smiling against his skin as he hears the other man whine.

When he raises his head to lock eyes with his Jedi, he can’t help but feel a thrill, pure electricity arcing through his veins as he takes in just how utterly helpless he looks, flushed and trembling as he’s bound, entirely subject to Cody’s every whim.

He’s sure he looks just as debauched, not even attempting to hide how hungry and wanting he feels as he sizes up his prey.

Tilting his head, he brings his lips close to the shaft of his cock, watching with a low, satisfied chuckle as Obi-Wan’s hips try to cant upwards against his hold. So very desperate. His breath stirs over the sensitive skin, and the Jedi’s eyes screw shut tightly. Precum leaks from the head, and it takes every thread of restraint that Cody has not to lean in and taste it… but he can’t, not just yet.

“Still holding back?” he murmurs, tutting softly. “You know I won’t do anything until you ask nicely, darling.”

Obi-Wan’s body twists as much as he’s able, sweat breaking out across his brow as he takes in a shuddering breath.

A silence stretches between them, but Cody is patient. He has all the time in the Galaxy tonight, and he’s well aware that he has the upper hand.

It takes less time than he would have expected for Obi-Wan to give in.

“Please…” he tries, barely more than a breath.

Cody fights down a smile with considerable effort. With an unconvinced hum, he feigns boredom, drawing a slow, teasing circle over Obi-Wan’s hipbone.

“Are you sure that was the best you could do? You don’t sound like you want it very much,” he muses, delighting in the utterly wrecked moan that slips from his lover.

Obi-Wan curses harshly in a language that he doesn’t recognise.

“Please, Cody,” he begs, but it’s still not enough. Cody knows that he knows it, too. He narrows his eyes in faux-disappointment.

“You can be more specific than that, darling,” he chides, moving to hover just over the head of his cock, barely inches away. “Please what?”

The Jedi grits his teeth, and Cody can sense that his mind is an utter mess of incoherency right now. He loves knowing that he has this effect on him - he’s addicted to it. If they only had the time for it, Cody would draw this out for days.

“Please, Cody, just kriffing take me.” Obi-Wan’s words are hoarse, raw with need, and Cody finally decides he should have mercy on the poor man.

Lowering his head, he licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, his tongue slowly tracing the prominent vein that resides there.

Obi-Wan practically mewls at the relief of it, and Cody feels a sudden surge of power flicker through their bond. Above them, the room’s overhead light sparks and sputters.

Cody pauses, the cessation immediately dragging an aggrieved whine from the Jedi’s lips.

“That– was that you?” he asks, glancing up to the light with an amused grin.

When they had been setting this up earlier, Obi-Wan had shown Cody a way to bind his wrists just-so in a way that would prevent him from making use of the Force… but it seems his powers are exerting themselves in other ways now.

It takes a moment for Obi-Wan to respond, his eyes flickering up, confused, to follow Cody’s gaze. He fights for coherency, his eyes glassy as he frowns. “I… was what me?”

Cody snorts, moving closer once again to continue in his attentions. He might enjoy pretending that he’s ever-patient in the face of his lover’s neediness, but in reality nothing could be further from the truth. Now that he’s had a taste, he can’t keep himself away for much longer.

“It doesn’t matter,” he assures Obi-Wan, taking him shallowly into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the weeping head of his cock. It does the job to distract him - the Jedi’s question is all but forgotten as his fingers curl into his palm and his body shakes with the force of his pleasure. Cody’s eyes flutter closed in bliss - Stars above, he tastes divine.

With a low groan, he pushes his head down further, taking him as far as he comfortably can, relishing in the feeling of the thick weight of him on his tongue.

Cody swallows around him, and the Force bond bursts with stars, heat and desire and the feeling of being alive coursing through the both of them in equal measure.

After a moment of weighing up his options, Cody sacrifices his control over Obi-Wan’s movement to remove one of his hands from where he was pinning his hips, bringing it down to stroke himself languidly as his head begins to bob up and down, slowly at first, but gaining in pace rather rapidly.

Each moan that slips from his Jedi’s lips, each curse and breathy gasp of his name - they all send him spiralling, dizzy with the need for them both to come apart just like this.

It doesn’t take long for the telltale buzz through the bond to intensify, the sign that Obi-Wan is teetering on the knife’s edge of ecstasy. Despite it all, the Jedi’s last vestige of control holds him back, and Cody feels a gentle prod at his mind, a shaky, desperate request for permission.

His heart flutters. Even now, pulled apart as he is, Obi-Wan is checking in on him. He returns the feeling through the bond, sending back a soft, loving affirmative in response.

And just like that, the world shatters around them.

Obi-Wan’s body arches upwards with a soft cry, his entire body tensing as Cody eagerly takes everything he has to give. He tightens his grip on himself, spilling himself over his hand with a low, broken groan.

They stay locked like that for a moment, breathing heavily as they float, untethered. Love and affection drifts almost lazily through the bond from one to the other as they slowly come down from their shared high.

With a slow, contented sigh, Cody pulls back, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hip apologetically as he winces at the overstimulation.

He stands, sparing just a moment to stretch before he moves to the other side of the bed to untie Obi-Wan’s wrists. He presses a lingering kiss to the heel of each of his palms as he frees them, leaning over the bed to capture the Jedi’s lips in his.

“You doing alright?” Cody murmurs. He knows the answer - they have the bond, after all - but he always likes to ask, regardless.

Obi-Wan smiles sleepily up at him through his lashes, rubbing gently at his wrists. “Very much so, darling. And you?”

Cody nods. “Very much so,” he echoes. With one final kiss, he straightens up, turning to head to the ‘fresher. “I’ll just be a moment,” he says softly.

Cody returns from the bathroom a few minutes later to find Obi-Wan with his robe draped around himself, hunched over the edge of the bed as he gazes at the floor.

Unease prickles throughout Cody’s nerves, sensing the way the energy of the room has changed.

Even worse, he can’t feel Obi-Wan through the bond as strongly as he usually can - he’s shielding from him.

Something is very wrong.

“... Cyare?” he asks softly, stepping forwards but leaving enough distance between them that Obi-Wan doesn’t feel crowded. “What is it?”

The Jedi doesn’t respond for a long moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he tenses.

“I have a mission that I’m leaving for, first thing tomorrow morning. I… wanted to tell you earlier, but I couldn’t,” he says eventually.

Cody waits for an elaboration, but it doesn’t come. He risks taking a step closer to where he’s sat, and Obi-Wan looks up at him. His expression is an attempt at neutrality, but Cody knows him better than that. There’s worry, and something akin to regret in his eyes that he can’t quite keep at bay.

“Alright,” Cody murmurs. “I assume it’s classified.”

Obi-Wan nods.

“Even to me?” Cody presses. Obi-Wan looks away, closing his eyes.

“Especially to you.”

The ominous words hang in the air for a few moments, Cody trying and failing to decipher the meaning behind them.

“... Right. So you won’t be joining the rest of us on our scouting excursion in the Outer Rim tomorrow?” Cody asks. He lets out a wry chuckle that he doesn’t really feel, trying his best to bring a smile to Obi-Wan’s face. “Well, I can’t say you’ll be missing out much. Maybe I’m even jealous, routine exploration is hardly ever exciting.”

Obi-Wan remains quiet.

The stoicism breaks momentarily as Cody reaches out to cup his cheek, the Jedi leaning into the touch with a soft sigh. He turns his head to press a kiss to his palm. “I love you,” he whispers, breathing the words into Cody’s skin.

A frown tugs at Cody’s brow, a worry digging its claws into him that he knows he won’t be able to abate. This isn’t like Obi-Wan at all. Is he worried he won’t come back from an assignment? Even in his worst moments, he’s nothing if not cocky about his abilities, and Gods know he’s not scared of the idea of his own death.

“I’ll bring you back something from the Outer Rim,” Cody says, relieved to see the smallest upturns at the edges of his Jedi’s lips.

“I don’t believe the cluster you’re surveying will have many markets.”

It’s true - the 212th is being sent en masse to a nearly entirely unoccupied planetary system for two standard weeks, to ‘survey and analyse’ the local areas for potential locations to set up a secret Republic outpost.

Cody had argued, when the order came in, that it was a baffling waste of an entire Battalion’s resources - surely this was the Exploration Corps’ area of expertise, after all - but apparently they were the only ones available to carry out the mission. Obi-Wan had shrugged when Cody had tried to ask him about it.

The silver lining at the time had been the promise of two weeks away on a low stress mission, giving the two of them some sorely needed private time together… but now it looks like it’ll just be Cody and their men.

He hums thoughtfully, mulling his options over in his mind.

“There are supposed to be crystal caves on one of the planets, right?” he muses. “I’ll bring you back something from one of those.”

That draws out a full smile from Obi-Wan, and he reaches out to wrap his arms around Cody’s waist. His mental walls lower just slightly, enough for Cody to feel gratitude, safety, I don’t deserve you.

Cody closes his eyes.

“I love you, too.”

He’d ask Obi-Wan to keep himself alive, to come back home safely to him, but they don’t make promises like that to one another. They know all too well that tomorrows aren’t guaranteed.

Instead, he leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head, breathing him in.

There’ll be time for worrying later, but right now it’s late, and they both have missions to head out to in the morning. Sleep needs to be their priority.

Regretfully, he extracts himself from the embrace, leaning down to capture Obi-Wan’s lips in a chaste, yet tender kiss.

“I’ll make us some herbal tea,” he promises, and his Jedi nods slowly.

“Thank you, darling.”

We’ll be alright, Cody thinks to himself. He takes a calming breath as he busies himself with making their teas, trying to let go of the concern that hangs over him like a cloud. No matter what it is that Obi-Wan can’t tell me, we’ll face the outcome together.

We always do.

next chapter

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A/N: Just as a heads up, I'm going to be fucking heavily with the established canon timeline for next chapter to jump some missions (or one particular mission) around to a different chronological order. I figure if Disney can do it then I can too lol :)

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto

#codywan #aspentreewrites #star wars fanfiction #cody x obi wan #my fics #tcw #commander cody #commander cody x obi wan #flowers & cannons #star wars #cody x obi wan kenobi #commander cody x obi wan kenobi

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aspentreewrites · 2 months ago

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Ajfkdkf hey, please don't feel the need to respond to this but I just saw your response to an anon ask I sent months ago - I'm the writer who was finally able to write smutfic because of you!! The ability to actually do it without embarrassment has meant that I've been able to progress on a super long slowburn I've been wanting to do for ages, so thank you very much again 💚�� if you're interested, my ao3 is aspentreewrites - if it looks familiar I think I commented on water & rock a few times when it was coming out!!

The smut in question was for a codywan oneshot in jan, and then I managed to fulfill my actual goal of putting smut in my most recent chapter of my longfic, too. 🙂‍↕️ I told myself I didn't want to write it without pushing myself to make that E rating and I'm so glad I did!

Truly without water & rock inspiring me so much I probably couldn't have done it lol, you're a wonderful writer and your Obi-Wan in particular is just my absolute favourite!!

I just finished reading your one-shot, and it was amazing!! You've knocked it out of the park on your first try. I can't tell you how much it means to me that I helped give you inspiration. <333 Thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing this with me!

Everyone should check this out if you're into CodyWan (and even if you're not, it's a straight-up good read regardless!)

Tripping Along by Aspentreewrites

#HELLO?????????? oh my god you're so sweet thank you so much 😭 tripping along and flowers & cannons wouldn't exist in their current forms #without works like concessions and water and rock!#if you're interested in x oc or x reader Obi-Wan then splitspectrum is literally the standard #their obi characterisation is unparalleled truly

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aspentreewrites · 2 months ago

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#🤨🤨 i have a chapter coming out in a few days that proves otherwise

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aspentreewrites · 3 months ago

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WIP Game :)

rules: post the last sentence of each of your WIPSs, then tag the same number of people as you have WIPs to do the same!

Tagged by @makshstede :) thank you so much!!

This is from the next chapter of flowers & cannons - I was hoping to have it out soon but life happened. Rest assured we shall see it before the end of the month! 🫡

"It’s an incredibly effective intimidation tactic that only gets more potent the more the enemy seems to be winning - there’s nothing quite like being snarked at calmly by the man with blood dripping down his face to make you realise that you were never truly the one in control to begin with."

For the tag going forward I choose @rochenn (only if you want to!) which, by the way, if you're not reading their fic Leave Your Rifle by the Door you're missing out on one of the best Codywan fics going around right now. Truly an all timer and I have re-read the chapters that are out more than I should admit over the last few months

#thanks so much for the tag!!!!!! :')#tag game

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aspentreewrites · 3 months ago

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From chapter 4 of and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot by @aspentreewrites

#SCREAMING GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET LOOK AT HOW TALENTED MAKSHSTEDE IS #ohhh my god like #THE EXPRESSIONS ARE YOU KIDDING ME #obi looks so haunted.......#im so fucking honoured that you made this and im treasuring this forever thank you thank you thank you #flowers & cannons #fanart #codywan

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aspentreewrites · 3 months ago

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Stay behind me, General!

#THIS IS THE SWEETEST TAG EVER OMG???? and the art is gorgeous 🥰

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aspentreewrites · 3 months ago

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🩵🧡🩵🧡 so glad it could chase away some of the RotS blues!!! It's a very serious condition 🤭

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 7

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter!!) slow burn, force bond shenanigans, angst and pining, explicit sexual content

Description:

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

Link to read on AO3 here!

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A/N: I'm so nervous for this one to go out lol. Lots of pressure riding on this one!! I hope you enjoy, every comment, like and rb is so deepy treasured <3

Thanks as always to @whenyourfavouritedies for beta'ing this chapter!!!

Wordcount: 13.7k

Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

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Obi-Wan is finally removed from the bacta tank by the time the evening comes, much to Cody’s relief.

The once life threatening wound has already healed significantly, leaving only a jagged, pink scar etched into the Jedi’s side. It’s nothing to be mournful about - just another marking to add to the collection of near-misses. Proof that despite everything, even the venerated General Kenobi is still just a human.

The fragility of it all is not lost on Cody.

He does his best to keep his eyes firmly down, feigning interest in the datapad in his lap as Helix checks over the damage. He’s seen Obi-Wan shirtless before, many times in fact, but looking feels… loaded, now that he’s come to terms with the longings of his heart that he’s suppressed for so long. Cody’s eyes blur as he reads the same sentence on the report over and over, not quite taking any of it in, but at least successfully stalling for time until Helix has had time to redress the Jedi loosely in his robes and it’s safe to look up again.

When he finally does, Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle warmly at the corners.

The sensation nestled deep in the recesses of Cody’s mind unfurls, as if it were a yawning and stretching animal, awakening from a deep slumber. It grows warmer with each passing second, a pleasant stirring that seems to suffuse throughout his entire body, soothing each nerve ending and bleeding the tension gently from his body.

Cody returns the smile, allowing a gentleness to fill his gaze that he’s usually far too disciplined to let show through. He waits for Helix to leave the two of them alone before he finds it in himself to speak, carefully placing the datapad down on the bed beside him.

“You look like shit.”

Obi-Wan barks out a startled laugh that quickly turns into a cough, grimacing briefly at the pain in his side. Even as his hand flies up to cover the fresh scar, he manages to give Cody an exasperated grin.

“Usually when someone nearly dies, people say nice things to them afterwards,” he complains, but there’s a fond sparkle in Obi-Wan’s eye that tells Cody that he’s glad to not be coddled by him. The Commander offers a small shrug, unable to disguise the affection that creeps into his tone as he replies.

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you, General, even if the truth’s a little less convenient.”

That earns him another chuckle.

“And I am forever appreciative of it, my dear Commander.”

Obi-Wan shifts in the bed, swinging his legs over the side and stretching himself out slowly, a soft grunt escaping his lips. Cody watches him carefully, taking note of the bags under his eyes, the way he clearly suppresses a yawn.

“Are you sure you don’t need more rest?” he asks gently, not wanting to push.

Obi-Wan snorts at that. “Hardly,” he protests.

The indignation in his tone is an immediate reassurance to Cody. He truly must be alright then - he’d recognise his particular brand of stubbornness a mile away. “I’ve done nothing but rest for the past few hours,” Obi-Wan adds, shaking his head as if trying to clear the lingering fog of unconsciousness. “I’m a little sore, admittedly, but the bacta has done its job.”

His gaze turns to Cody then, raising a brow as his eyes sweep over his form, as he often does in the field when searching for injury. Seemingly satisfied that there are none to be found, he lets out a quiet hum.

“I suppose I should apologise for the needless dramatics earlier,” Obi-Wan says, his lips curling into a small smile. “But it seems you managed just fine without me, hm?”

Let it be known to the Galaxy that Commander Cody is much too proud a man to ever preen. It would be unbecoming - an affront to the cool, casual air of power that a man of his caliber is meant to exude.

He can perhaps admit to sitting up just a little bit straighter at the proud tone of his General, though.

“I did my best, sir,” he replies, noting how a small strand of hair has fallen over Obi-Wan’s face, out of place from its usual neat facade. A brief daydream overtakes him - imagining what it would be like to be allowed to reach out and smooth it back into place.

Cody quashes the thought as soon as it rises, shoving it aside violently. Obi-Wan nearly died today - the least he can do is keep his thoughts respectful. He smiles over at his Jedi, trying to inject some humour into his tone. “Could hardly let you die on my watch, could I? It’d be a stain on my record, at the very least.”

Obi-Wan huffs out a soft laugh, settling back against the pillows of the medbay bed. “I don’t recall all that much from before my rescue, I’m afraid, but what I do remember is thinking that you looked rather dashing with my lightsaber in hand like that.”

Cody feels a blush creep up his neck, finding it difficult enough to deal with his General’s Gods-damned flirting at the best of times. He clears his throat, doing his best to give the impression of nonchalance. He only flounders for a single beat, to his credit. “Your lesson paid off, it seems,” he responds, as coolly as he can manage. “I have a full report about the mission, and… and the encounter with Maul, written up. I’ll send it your way when you’re well enough to work again.”

Not the most subtle redirect, but the Sith’s name does the trick to distract Obi-Wan from continuing with the flattery, at least.

The General nods, running a hand through his dishevelled hair, the motion revealing a smattering of silvered strands that seem to grow in number day by day.

“Of course. You’re...” Obi-Wan’s expression shifts to something unreadable, his brow pinching slightly as he searches for the words he wants to say. “You’re truly alright, Cody?”

The sensation at the back of Cody’s consciousness prickles with a feeling of concern, of… protectiveness, if he’s reading it correctly. He can’t quite parse why.

Obi-Wan tilts his head, and the internal disquiet grows with the other man’s movement. It wriggles a little in Cody’s brain, demanding his attention.

“... Commander?” the Jedi prompts.

Cody blinks, realising he’d fallen quiet for longer than he’d intended to. “Sorry, I… yes, I’m alright,” he assures quickly. Obi-Wan doesn’t look particularly convinced.

For a brief few seconds, Cody wars with himself, the undoubtedly helpful yet incredibly strange presence that’s been occupying his head since this morning the sole focus of his attention once more.

He doesn’t want to cause Obi-Wan further stress, but maybe, Cody thinks to himself, now is as good a time as he’s going to get to share his concerns before Helix makes good on his threat this morning and shares them for him.

“Ah… well, maybe there was something I needed to talk to you about,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Obi-Wan nods slowly, his expression sympathetic.

“About Maul?” he asks.

“Not… not quite, no.”

That seems to surprise the Jedi, but he nonetheless gestures for Cody to continue.

Right. Trying to explain all of this without sounding insane. Cody feels his brows knit together as his gaze falls to his lap.

“There’s… something,” he begins slowly. “An experience I can’t explain. It’s as if there’s a living being, or a– a consciousness, sharing the back of my mind.” He looks up at Obi-Wan to see his eyes have widened a fraction, and scrambles to reassure him. “It’s not harmful– at least I think it’s not– it helped me, earlier.”

Obi-Wan blinks, taking in a breath. “How so?” he presses, voice hushed yet audibly urgent.

“It led me to you,” Cody replies. “When you were in that ravine. I just… I just knew where you were, and that you were hurt. It told me.”

A myriad of emotions flicker over the Jedi’s face, so fast that Cody can hardly read them all - he certainly, however, picks out some colours of surprise, and… horror. It’s over as soon as it begins, and the Jedi schools his expression to neutral, staring ahead towards him as blankly as he would to a politician during a negotiation.

The feeling in Cody’s mind shuts down without warning, and he flinches. He’s left reeling for a few seconds at the sense of loss, having gotten used to it over the course of the day.

It all feels unsettlingly, jarringly quiet.

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “I… see.”

Before Cody can question what’s happening, Obi-Wan stands abruptly, a few of his attached medical devices beeping indignantly at the sudden movement. The Jedi startles, glancing over to them in surprise as if he’d somehow forgotten that he’s been hooked up to them since waking. He waves a hand to shut them off with the Force distractedly, then neatly straightens his robes as if this all were a normal course of action for him to take.

“My apologies, Commander, I suddenly remembered I have a meeting to catch,” he claims, his tone and manner excessively stiff. He offers a small bow of his head - formal, stilted. “We shall have to continue this discussion later.”

He rips away the attached medical devices, rather inelegantly at that - his hands are clumsy and fumbling, so at odds with his usual, refined behaviour. If Cody wasn’t so effectively stupefied into silence right now, he’d offer to help.

Cody just about manages to close his jaw and collect enough of himself together to call after the Jedi before he makes it to the door. “Sir–”

Obi-Wan turns sharply, blinking as he sees Cody holding his lightsaber in an outstretched palm, an expression of pure bewilderment on his face.

A beat passes between them in the close quarters of the medbay room, punctuated harshly by the various noises from the machinery around them.

“I still have this. From… earlier,” is all Cody can say, unsure if there’s any correct way to tell your Commanding Officer that you know that his excuse of a meeting is utter banthashit because you have his schedule memorised like the back of your hand, and not only that, but you know that he knows that you’ve seen through the lie, because you both know each other too well to be able to get away with something like this.

For some unfathomable reason, the two of them decide to keep up the charade.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says, rather sheepishly, stepping over to retrieve the weapon. His movements are cautious, and Cody almost feels as if he’s dealing with a skittish animal. “Thank you, Cody. I…”

They stare at each other for a very long moment as the unfinished sentence hangs in the air. Cody offers what he hopes is a supportive smile, and Obi-Wan sort-of manages to return it.

“I’ll come to your quarters once I’m done,” the Jedi says.

And with that, Cody watches him hastily retreat from the room, left to unpack that utterly bizarre interaction.

Obi-Wan isn’t usually the type to turn tail and run from a difficult conversation - not unless it’s Anakin, needling him about something far too personal - and even then, he’s never once seen him lose his composure quite like that.

Cody sighs, gathering up his datapad, attempting to reach out to the whatever-it-was in his head, but finding only cold silence in answer. How brows furrow. Did Obi-Wan shut it off with the Force, somehow? How? Why?

It’s pointless to wonder about it all now, he supposes. All he can do is wait until later.

He can only hope that ‘later’ doesn’t wait too long to arrive.

_____________________________

The knock at the door he’s been anxiously awaiting comes at 9pm, sharp.

Cody has been expecting it, whiling away the excruciating hours of overthinking with pacing back and forth, taking the occasional break to answer incoming missives.

Despite how ready he’s been to hear it, the sound still makes him jump.

“Might I come in?” the muffled voice of the Jedi sounds from outside the room.

It would be categorically humiliating to make it obvious that he’s been on edge, waiting by the door for him, so Cody strategically waits a handful of seconds before stepping over. His plan of action is clear - the intention being to exude an air of calm and confidence, but when he presses his hand to the door panel to reveal the Jedi standing stiffly outside, Cody feels a sense of unease prickle over him that he knows he lets show, even if only for a few seconds.

Unable to find the casual, yet professional tone he’s been reaching for, he simply stands back to allow Obi-Wan to enter tentatively into the room. Cody can’t help but notice the way his expression is held carefully neutral, his back ramrod straight. A few pieces of flimsi sit neatly ordered in his hands, though he can’t make out the text written on them from here.

The door swooshes closed behind Obi-Wan, but he remains in the entryway, as if he might not be permitted further.

Cody frowns. The tension etched throughout his Jedi’s frame is clear to see. He’s reminded of what it was like when he was a newly deployed soldier, unsure of where they stand with one another.

He knows he hasn’t done anything wrong, but something must have happened to create this chasm between them, and he has absolutely no idea where to start in addressing it. He hates it.

“Obi-Wan, whatever’s going on, I–”

Cody stops short as the Jedi winces, holding up a hand to interrupt him.

“Please, Cod– Commander, let me say my piece.”

The words strike Cody directly in his chest, squeezing his lungs until he fears he might choke. Did Obi-Wan really just stop himself from saying his name?

He nods, numbly, not trusting himself to speak.

Obi-Wan takes a moment to gather himself, holding Cody’s gaze searchingly. The blank expression gives way to one of regret.

“I have been labouring under a misapprehension,” the Jedi begins, in a tone so carefully measured that Cody feels his heart sink even further - there’s bad news to be shared here, and for whatever reason, he’s the cause of it. He forces himself to bite down his questions, feeling like a cadet about to be told off for insubordination by one of the long-necks. Instinctively, he feels his shoulders tense.

“An incredibly selfish one at that,” Obi-Wan continues evenly. “The notion that my emotions would not affect my duty.”

The Jedi waits, anxiously searching Cody’s face for something, but the Commander is only able to muster confusion in response. It’s the wrong answer, evidently, as it only serves to make Obi-Wan withdraw further, unable to make eye contact now.

“This ‘feeling’ you described earlier,” the Jedi explains cautiously. “I… I know what the cause is, Commander. Furthermore, I believe it is my fault.”

Obi-Wan shifts, looking down to the floor as he collects himself to speak again. He looks almost like a child, caught out for rule-breaking.

From the adjoined ‘fresher, a single droplet of water splashes into the bowl of the sink.

Both men startle, their heads whipping around to the source of the sound. One of Obi-Wan’s hands twitches towards the lightsaber at his belt, and Cody feels a near-hysterical laugh try to bubble its way up his throat, though he just about manages to force it down. This isn’t how they act around one another - it never has been! - this is absurd.

After a moment so ridiculous, they’d usually laugh at one another, or one of them would at least make some form of joke to break the simmering tension.

They remain quiet.

Cody watches with his heart in his throat as Obi-Wan looks back at him again, the Jedi’s words seeming to fail him anew.

“It’s… something to do with the Force?” Cody prompts quietly, trying to help his General out, even if he knows that he won’t like what’s coming. Obi-Wan nods.

Quiet again. Cody decides to push. “And… something you have control over.”

The guilt in his Jedi’s eyes answers the question without need for words. Obi-Wan sighs heavily, the weight of it almost enough to pull Cody down with it.

“There is… something known to the Jedi as a ‘Force bond’, Commander,” he says finally, running a weary hand through his hair. “It develops between Force users who are… close, in any manner of speaking. Most of the time, they are deliberately cultivated, such as between Master and Padawan. I have one with Anakin, as I did once with Master Jinn.”

Obi-Wan glances down to fiddle with the papers in his hand, suddenly unable to meet Cody’s gaze again. “In some cases, however, they form as a result of happenstance; camaraderie, kinship, or… other such emotion, causing two people to be able to sense each other through the Force - to be in each other’s heads, in layman’s terms.”

When he looks up at Cody again, his shame is palpable.

“I shall not dance around the topic as I have up to this point, because to do so would be to insult you further. This ‘feeling’ you’ve been experiencing is me.”

All Cody can muster to say after the revelation is: “Oh.”

Obi-Wan’s presence.

In his mind.

That would explain the inexplicably familiar sense of warmth that it carried along with it, Cody supposes, and also the fact that it’s withdrawn from him now, behaving in line with Obi-Wan’s whims.

Truth be told, he’s feeling rather flattered at the whole affair - it’s solid proof of trust between them, at the very least, but that fact doesn’t entirely put his mind at ease. If it’s that simple, then why is Obi-Wan so uncomfortable with it all? If it’s just about working together effectively, then why is he looking at him like that?

His brow furrows as the Jedi gives him a moment to process, feeling rather like he’s missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.

“But– sir, I don’t understand,” Cody starts carefully. He wants to step closer to his friend, to offer comfort, but he assesses the situation, reminding himself of the razor-thin line they seem to be walking on tonight, and holds himself back: Obi-Wan is still standing as far away from him as he reasonably can in the doorway, clearly still wary and on edge - whatever’s left to come is something big. Now is not the time to approach.

“You said that this bond forms in situations of camaraderie,” Cody continues. “Surely… surely then, all Jedi Generals are forming Force bonds with their second in commands. Surely this is normal.”

He sees the way Obi-Wan steadies himself before responding, and instinctively feels his hackles raise. Here comes the crux of the issue.

“Simple brotherhood is not why this particular bond has formed,” the Jedi responds slowly, as if forcing the words out. “No, this connection through the Force was created because I…”

There’s a weighted pause before he continues.

“... because I have rather ill-advisedly gained feelings for you, Commander, and I foolishly believed that with your lack of Force sensitivity, you would not be able to sense me in turn.”

The words are spoken in a detached, even tone, and they lance through Cody’s chest as effectively as a blaster bolt.

Something strangled escapes his throat as all of the air leaves his lungs in one fell swoop, staring ahead wide-eyed at his General. Obi-Wan pauses patiently to give Cody the chance to speak, but the Commander can’t quite figure out how to do so.

What?

“For this reason,” the Jedi resumes after a beat, softer now, “I did not take the proper precautions to sever the bond as it formed. I selfishly allowed it to grow, and–” he winces, his eyes briefly flicking to the floor before he meets Cody’s gaze once again. “And now here we are, I suppose.”

Cody’s heart pounds wildly in the silence that follows, unable to think, to breathe, to move, in the wake of such a world shattering confession.

Speak, for kriff’s sake, say anything–

The Jedi finally crosses the space between them, carefully and professionally pressing the papers he’s been holding into Cody’s hands. The Commander takes them in his trembling grasp, acting entirely on instinct.

“Sir–” he tries, desperately.

Obi-Wan’s answering smile is stiff, covering a sadness that his eyes can’t quite hide. He inclines his head in a small nod that carries a finality that has Cody’s insides churning. “I can only apologise for my behaviour. I think you’ll find these papers will put things to rights - but if you’ll excuse me, I fear I have embarrassed myself enough for one evening, Commander. You’ll forgive me for retreating and preserving what is left of my dignity.”

Cody is left reeling, with his mouth agape and his heart hammering, as the Jedi sharply turns and heads out of his room.

“Wait, I–!”

But the door is already closed.

Cody’s eyes fall to the documents in his hand, frantically skimming the text as he scrambles to process any of what he’d just heard.

It’s a transfer request. To another battalion.

Obi-Wan’s references are already filled in - all Cody would have to do is sign, and he’d be under another General’s command. Obi-Wan thinks he’d want to leave…?

Stars, Cody feels sick.

Without giving a second thought to solidify any type of plan, he drops the stack of papers, letting them scatter across the ground behind him as he rushes out into the winding hallways of the Negotiator. He catches a brief glimpse of Obi-Wan disappearing around the corner, and his legs carry him forwards without any conscious input.

“Obi-Wan–!” he calls as he gives chase, not caring in the moment that it would cause a scene if any of their men were to see him behaving with such disregard for propriety, using their General’s first name, no less, to shout for him as he scrambles through the ship.

Cody the Commander might be concerned about such appearances; Cody the man, however, can’t find it in himself to do anything but run.

Thankfully, he doesn’t pass by anyone on the way - not that he’s sure he would have stopped even if he did. When he finds himself outside Obi-Wan’s quarters, Cody doesn’t hesitate. His hand flies up to the controls, letting himself in without announcing himself.

Decommisionable offence, CC-2224, the soldier in him screams. What the hell are you thinking?

Pursing his lips, Cody presses on regardless and pointedly elects to ignore the alarm bells in his head demanding he fall in line. They’re a little past the threat of pulling rank, now.

Inside, Obi-Wan jumps as his Commander enters, evidently distracted enough in his own turmoil to not be able to keep his senses in the Force as sharp as he usually would. From his position sat on the edge of his bed and the dishevelment of his hair, he must have just been holding his head in his hands.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan says, and it sounds raw, like a desperate plea. Gone is the diplomat from mere moments ago who looked as composed as he does whenever he has to deliver a difficult mission briefing - instead, he looks, well, human.

Cody only ever catches glimpses of him like this, late at night when they’re both far too exhausted to keep working, or first thing in the morning during long campaigns. It’s a rare occasion for his Jedi to allow himself to look this distressed, and Cody’s heart twists painfully in his chest to be the cause of his strife now. He wants to fix it. He has to fix it.

Obi-Wan rises from where he was sitting, his shoulders tense and his expression anxious. “Please, just allow me a few moments alone. I don’t know what else there is to say.”

The door slides shut behind him, and Cody crosses the room. The words tumble out of him before he consciously makes the decision to say them.

“I’m in love with you.”

The confession burns his lungs to ash as it leaves him, scorching his throat and destroying the professional reputation he’s worked his whole life to build, and yet a part of him - a deeply selfish part - is so utterly relieved to have it off of his chest.

Whatever happens, it’s in Obi-Wan’s hands now. At least Cody no longer has to hide. At least it’s been said.

“Cody…” Obi-Wan’s face falls, and he looks nothing short of pained as he turns his head away. It looks like that’s the last thing he wanted to hear. “It doesn’t matter,” he grits out. “It can’t matter.”

Cody, not for the first time today, just wishes he could understand. He takes another step closer, forcing himself into Obi-Wan’s eyeline, wanting - needing - to see his face. “Why not?” he asks, so incredibly aware of each boundary he’s breaching by refusing to step away. Nervousness tunnels through him, pleading with him to bolt, to back down and apologise for pushing so far, but he forces himself to stand his ground.

When there’s no response, he finds himself reaching a hand out, though he’s not entirely sure for what.

Obi-Wan catches his wrist gently before it can make contact. He lets out a soft, shuddering sigh, the only sound that fills the quarters for a few heartstopping moments. Cody barely dares to let himself breathe.

“It can’t matter,” Obi-Wan repeats in a murmur, his voice tinged with regret, “because I fear I might have influenced you to feel this way by taking advantage of my position. Please, Cody, you must understand.”

His eyes finally meet Cody’s again, letting him see all of the remorse present there. He doesn’t yet drop his wrist, stroking a thumb over the pulse point absently. The action sets the Commander’s nerves aflame.

Swallowing thickly, Cody tries his best to find his voice. “You’ve never taken advantage of anything, Obi-Wan,” he tries to assure him. “I…”

“I kissed you,” Obi-Wan interrupts in a hoarse whisper. The self hatred in his eyes is clear to see, and Cody can’t stand it. He wishes he could chase it away. “On… on the mission, while we were undercover,” he adds quietly, as if Cody might not remember.

It’s a ludicrous suggestion. How could he ever forget? Memories of that kiss have haunted Cody’s mind like a spectre since the moment it happened, visiting him in the dead of night and leaving him aching, and all too alone. He’s tried to find peace with it, but it remains - the phantom of an impossible reality left lingering on his lips. Even so, he can’t bring himself to regret it, even if Obi-Wan does.

The Jedi closes his eyes briefly, shaking his head as if willing away the same echoes from his mind.

“There were other options that day,” he explains softly. “I saw them retroactively, once we’d returned home, and I linger on them now, Cody. We didn’t have to… and yet, in the moment, I asked you to. Told you to.” His jaw ticks, his frame taut with tension. “I worry that I saw it as the only option because I had lost myself in my feelings for you, and that it then… affected you, to some degree.”

Cody frowns, trying to make sense of the logic being presented here. “That… you thought that the kiss influenced me?”

“I sensed your feelings afterwards, Cody,” Obi-Wan replies pleadingly, insistent, as if he wants his Commander to see him for the monster he believes himself to be. “I know it was… confusing for you. And then on top of all of that, I’ve pushed a Force bond upon you, without your knowledge.”

He finally drops Cody’s wrist, his arms falling limply at his sides.

“You barely get anything of your own,” he murmurs. “The Galaxy takes endlessly from you and your brothers, without giving you any say at all. The thought that I would remove your agency in this matter…” His lips press into a thin, bitter line. “Know that I am deeply ashamed of my actions, Commander, and I shall endeavour to make up for them once you have transferred, on that you have my word.”

“No,” Cody replies without thinking, his hands coming up to gently grasp Obi-Wan by the shoulders. “Stop– just, stop talking for a moment.”

Obi-Wan takes in a sharp breath as Cody touches him, but nonetheless falls quiet, meeting his Commander’s gaze as they stand close. Cody wants to bend his arm - to bring their bodies together, to squeeze the air from between them and show Obi-Wan, without needing to fight for the words, just how much he means to him.

But he can’t. Not just yet.

Cody’s hands involuntarily flex on Obi-Wan's shoulders. The air between them is cold against his cheek, and Cody could swear that the scant space between them expands like ice.

The thought of leaving the battalion - his battalion - after all of this, because of some misplaced guilt, is absolutely unthinkable. Cody’s not the best with words, and Force knows that Obi-Wan’s racing thoughts will be outpacing him even now, but he has to try and make him see.

“You’re wrong,” Cody says firmly, hoping that Obi-Wan can hear the conviction in his voice. He’s never been more certain of anything in his life. “The kiss didn’t change anything. I’ve wanted you since…” he trails off, unable to pinpoint the exact moment. He never can, if he’s being honest with himself. At least some part of him has ached for the touch of his Jedi since the moment they first met.

“... for the better part of the war effort,” are the words he eventually lands on. “The kiss was… just the first time I truly acknowledged how deep it ran. The first time my shields failed me.”

He tries to smile, though he feels his throat constrict painfully, a stinging sensation gathering at the corner of his eyes. Why is this so damn hard? He feels terrifyingly vulnerable, his ribcage pried open and his heart bared naked, desperately hoping that it won’t be ripped apart for his trouble.

Still, Cody tries his best to hold himself steady. He has far too much pride to flee now. “You can even ask Rex, he figured it out well over a year ago, now. The kiss changed nothing, Obi-Wan. You changed nothing.”

Obi-Wan blinks, his expression turning to something altogether helpless as his words sink in.

“I still– I should never have–”

“I don’t care,” Cody insists, shaking his head emphatically. “Do you hear me? I don’t care. You made a tactical call, checked in with me first, and I said yes. I am not some delicate flower, Obi-Wan, so stop treating me like one.”

The Jedi’s mouth falls firmly shut at that. Cody waits for the truth of his words to visibly register before continuing. “I have wanted you - forgive my language - so much that it kriffing hurts, and it’s been this way for far longer than just these last few weeks. So please, even if nothing comes of any of this, you have to know that any emotions you felt from me were real. Are real. I can’t let you keep being ashamed of something that isn’t your fault. Please, believe me on this.”

Obi-Wan’s helpless expression remains, wide-eyed and blinking slowly, only now it’s begun to mingle with something perilously close to hope. “Cody,” he whispers, an undeniable sense of longing underpinning his words, even as they’re spoken with hesitance. “These are… dangerous sentiments for us to share.”

The warning registers for Cody, but he’s so close to casting it aside. If Obi-Wan wants this too, then he’s not sure he has the self control to hold back. Not anymore.

Maybe a younger version of him would hear the reasoning in the statement, enough to retreat now and put a safe distance between them - a version of him that’s less abraded from the endlessness of war perhaps, less filled to the brim with bone-deep exhaustion - but Cody’s not that man anymore. He hasn’t been for a while.

If Obi-Wan’s expression is anything to go by, they’re both currently facing the same battle.

Tentatively, Cody shifts one of the hands at Obi-Wan’s shoulders, slipping it up to cup his jaw instead, running his thumb gently over the Jedi’s cheek. The skin is soft against his own calluses, and he savours every moment that he can steal now, before they inevitably come to their senses.

In all truthfulness, he doesn’t know where any of this boldness has come from, but the way that Obi-Wan leans into the touch has his confidence only growing.

“Can I…” Gods above, they’re standing so close. “Can I feel you again?”

It takes a moment for Obi-Wan to understand what he’s asking. The bond has been a cold absence in Cody’s head since it was shut off earlier, and now, knowing what it truly was… he needs to experience it anew, even if just for a fleeting moment.

The Jedi hesitates, searching Cody’s face. “Is that wise?” he asks, his voice barely above a breath.

“Probably not,” Cody concedes.

Obi-Wan huffs out something that might have been a laugh, were it not so nervous sounding.

After a few seconds, the warmth at the edge of Cody’s consciousness returns regardless - tentative, curious, hopeful. Cody reaches out for it internally, welcoming it, and it burns brighter in response. The light of it is like the sun, brilliant and intense and altogether blinding, and Cody basks in it unabashedly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter closed.

“Cody…” he breathes - not a warning or a plea this time. An invitation.

It does not come naturally for Cody, born and bred for the purpose of war, to be tender. But he supposes that now is as good a time to start learning as any.

After only a moment’s hesitation for the sake of strategic analysis, he presses his hands to Obi-Wan’s chest and gently pushes forwards, walking him back to the wall.

Obi-Wan allows the movement easily, his eyes alighting with warmth as Cody stops in front of him.

“... I don’t want to make you break your Code,” Cody murmurs, sincerely.

It’s the last thing that’s making him hesitate. The Jedi Order is everything to Obi-Wan - Cody could never forgive himself if he were to become a wedge between his Jedi and the life he has dedicated himself wholly to.

Obi-Wan offers a rueful smile in response. “I’m afraid that ship has been sailing the stars for some time now, my dear.” His gaze softens at the look of concern in Cody’s eyes. “It’s alright.”

Cody waits for any sign of wavering conviction in his Jedi’s eyes, experimentally reaching out to search the bond they share to get a sense of the truth.

Obi-Wan must sense what he’s trying to do, as Cody quickly finds his senses flooded with nothing but him, raw and bared and open, the Jedi sharing himself entirely.

It steals the Commander’s breath from his lungs, and he has to close his eyes to help him focus on it all. The intimacy of the act - the uninhibited trust - has his heart beating out of his chest, and Cody finds that he instinctively knows how to send a wave of gratitude to him in return.

He finds his answer easily, whispered directly into his mind like the gentlest of caresses.

Obi-Wan is being truthful. He would be willing to risk the consequences.

Cody withdraws from the intensity of the bond, taking in a clarifying breath as he finds his senses properly returned to his body. Obi-Wan has been watching him calmly, and offers a serene smile as he sees that Cody is present again.

“Hello,” he says.

“Hello,” Cody responds.

For a few, very long seconds, all they do is look at one another.

“This is a mistake,” Cody says softly, supposing that they may as well acknowledge it, now that they’ve come this far.

“Undoubtedly so,” Obi-Wan agrees.

Neither of them make any move to break apart.

Cody’s eyes flick down, unbidden, to the Jedi’s lips. He remembers, with perfect clarity, in fact, what it was like to taste them - a fact that does not serve to sate his hunger for them in any way. In fact, it’s rather the opposite. He’s thought of precious little else in his presence in recent weeks.

A frown tugs at his brow as Obi-Wan placidly awaits for him to move. It occurs to him all very suddenly that he doesn’t have a battle plan here.

A fond smile plays at the Jedi’s lips, his eyes sparkling in a gentle amusement, even as they appear a little misty.

“The look you’re giving me is rather reminiscent of the way you look at briefing reports, darling. Am I something to be analysed so?”

The sweet epithet causes a shiver to run down Cody’s spine, the part of him that is floating, still in blissful disbelief melting at the sound of it from his Jedi’s lips.

The part of Cody that is very much in the present, however, scowls. At least, it's intended to be a scowl - the usually composed Marshal Commander worries briefly that it might look more like a pout.

“I’m just… trying to remember,” he mutters. At Obi-Wan’s quizzical look, he sighs, feeling his shoulders deflate. So much for romance.

“I wasn’t lying. On the mission, when I said I don’t have experience with…”

Any of this, Cody’s mind finishes for him.

Even in the event of the one kiss they have shared, Obi-Wan had very much initiated it all. Now, here, with the Jedi bracketed between his arms against the wall of his quarters, it hits Cody like a deeply unsettling lightning bolt that he doesn’t actually know what to do next.

Obi-Wan, to his relief, doesn’t mock him or roll his eyes - not even a gentle, needling comment as Cody might have expected. Instead, he just nods, his hands drifting up to hold the sides of Cody’s face.

“Allow me to help, then,” he suggests, and it’s all Cody can do to manage a short nod.

Obi-Wan leans in ever closer, the two sharing only a whisper of breath between them. One beat passes between them, then two. Why isn’t he moving?

“I rather think,” the Jedi posits, “that you should probably close your eyes. That’s how this type of thing normally goes.”

Cody flushes, exhaling sharply as he realises he’s just been staring like a fool. “Right,” he says. “Of course.”

He lets his eyelids fall shut, trying to ignore the way his heart is rabbits wildly at the sound of the pleased little hum Obi-Wan lets out in response.

Cody, try as he might, can’t quite stop himself from letting out the nervous rambles that have been clamouring to spill forth.

“I suppose that if we’re going to be partaking in such a lapse of judgement, then we should at least be doing it correctly.”

It’s a weak attempt at a joke, but Obi-Wan chuckles anyway.

“A ‘lapse of judgement’, is it?” he queries, his breath stirring over Cody’s lips. The Commander fights not to tremble with the anticipation of it all, keeping his eyes firmly and tightly closed.

“A mistake. You said it yourself.”

He hears Obi-Wan’s smile without the need of seeing it, sensing it in that small recess of his mind where the Force bond has made a home for itself.

“Perhaps so. Still, it is one I am eager to make. Relax, Cody, this is meant to be pleasant,” he chides softly, pressing his thumb gently into the furrow of his brow, encouraging the tension to ease.

This time, Cody can’t help the shiver that runs down the length of his spine.

“I’d argue this is more like torture,” he protests, and Obi-Wan sends a gentle rebuke of exasperation through the bond. Cody knows implicitly that it was accompanied by a roll of the eyes.

“Relax,” the Jedi repeats, and Cody forces himself to let out a slow exhale, trying as best as he can to manually bleed the tension from his body. It’s hard when it feels like he’s burning up from the inside out - and worse, he’s certain Obi-Wan feel it through the bond.

A soft murmur of “better,” from Obi-Wan doesn’t serve to help the situation, but Cody doesn’t have the time to work himself up again about it because his Jedi’s lips are suddenly very much on his.

Finally.

Where the undercover kiss in the hotel corridor was a red-hot wildfire, all-consuming and torching everything in its path, this one is a flickering candle - tentative, soft, and exploratory.

Still, it burns.

Each brush of their lips is a revelation, and it's one that Cody can feel himself getting drunk on. He keeps Obi-Wan boxed in tightly against the wall, trying his best to make up for his lack of experience with the intensity of the emotion he pours into each movement, calling on his tenuously remaining threads of discipline to help him take it slow.

They have time, he reminds himself. They have time. It all seems to be working well enough in his favour, if the way Obi-Wan melts against him is any indication.

When they finally break for air, Cody laughs. He can’t help it. He’s never felt a blossoming joy like this, something he can cradle in his hands and call his own - separate to the GAR, separate to the vode. This moment is entirely his.

Obi-Wan gazes back at him all the while like he’s something precious, like he’s the lucky one here, and it makes Cody’s chest constrict violently. Their Force bond bursts with emotion that Cody feels ill-equipped to give voice to.

He opens his mouth to try regardless, when the sound of a ringing comm makes them both jump. Cody can’t quite fight back the urge to groan, but Obi-Wan only chuckles, offering him a soothing pat on the arm as he extricates himself from the Commander’s hold.

“An inevitability, wasn’t it?” he comments, stepping easily across the room to where his comm-link sits on his nightstand. Cody follows behind, sinking down onto the edge of Obi-Wan’s bed with a rueful smile.

“I suppose it was. We’re lucky if we go five minutes without some fire or other starting behind our backs.”

“So it would seem. Waxer,” Obi-Wan greets calmly into the small device. “Sitrep?” Cody would be almost offended by how composed the Jedi is coming across if he didn’t have a direct window into the fact that his heart is pounding just as wildly as his own is.

He waits patiently as Obi-Wan listens to whatever it is that requires their urgent attention. There’s no feeling of particular worry developing through the bond - and Cody, quietly, marvels that feeling the Jedi’s emotions like this is something he can even do now - so he takes a moment to simply watch the man next to him, coming to terms with the idea the events of today might actually be real, and not some kind of hallucination.

He’s still not entirely convinced he won’t wake up at any moment.

“Re-routing our course would most likely be the wisest course of action, then,” Obi-Wan muses into his comms. “I’ll leave that for you to sort out, logistics-wise.” He pauses, his eyes flickering over to Cody for a beat. “While you’re here, actually, Lieutenant - the Commander and I are engaged with creating battle plans for the upcoming campaign. Would you be able to take point for all incoming non-urgent issues for the next few hours?” A small smile flits over his face as he hears his answer. “Ah, that’s incredibly helpful of you. Good man.”

The lie slips so smoothly from Obi-Wan’s lips that Cody almost believes it himself for a second. He raises a brow as the Jedi returns to him, reaching out to pull him closer by his waist.

“If I had known we were working on battle plans, I would have brought my datapad with me,” he comments dryly, feeling his heart flip at the casualness with which Obi-Wan leans down to steal a quick kiss from him. If this is how it’s always going to be between them from now on, Cody is more than content with getting used to it.

Obi-Wan smiles, a teasing lilt making its way into his voice as he settles down beside him on the bed. “I’m sure you can manage without it. You’re a very capable man, Commander.”

They sit like that, just the two of them, sharing casual touches and lazy kisses as they just… talk, for what feels like hours. They only disentangle from one another, briefly, to make up two mugs of tea a little ways into the evening. It’s almost painful in its domesticity, but more than that, it just feels so remarkably right. Cody isn’t entirely certain why they haven’t been doing this the whole time.

Cody tells Obi-Wan of all of the moments over the months when he thought his yearning might be the undoing of him; Obi-Wan, in turn, tells him of the times he’s felt the same. Neither men are particularly prone to bouts of sentimentality and softness such as this - especially not since the war has sanded them both down to harbour such sharp edges - but this moment has been a long time coming. To not give themselves over to it completely would be a waste.

Finding out about the particular type of sanctity and importance that a lightsaber carries for a Jedi is the biggest surprise for Cody. He nearly chokes when he finds out that he’d practically propositioned his General mere weeks into the war effort. The only saving grace is that Obi-Wan seems far more amused than offended at his mortification about the faux-pas.

Eventually though, Cody recovers enough from his embarrassment about the whole affair to have his interest piqued.

Up until this morning, he’d been as Force sensitive as a rock, and where the ins and outs of the mystical power his General wields had been mere intellectual curiosities before, it feels imperative now to be able to understand it properly in light of recent events.

He has far too much to ask, and thankfully, the Jedi has an unending well of patience from which to give his answers.

“The kyber crystal inside it isn’t sentient, no,” Obi-Wan explains, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he answers Cody’s latest question. “It’s more that it… resonates with my emotions - it’s a microcosm of my own Force signature.”

Cody hums thoughtfully at that, reaching out to carefully pluck the lightsaber from where it sits on Obi-Wan’s nightstand. He turns the weapon over in his palm with a new appreciation, considering the information he’s just learnt. It mirror’s Obi-Wan’s emotions, his preferences and desires… Cody runs an admiring finger over the cool metal of the hilt, noting the way the Jedi seems to suppress a shiver at the action.

“Can you feel it now?” he asks, glancing up to Obi-Wan. The Jedi nods.

“Not quite as acutely as I could a person,” he replies, a tinge of amusement colouring his tone. “But yes. I would describe it… like a purring tooka, perhaps, whenever it sits in your hands.” Obi-Wan huffs, folding his arms as he leans back against the wall. “I daresay it’s happier with you than it ever is with me.”

“You can feel it specifically when I touch it?” Cody queries, awe tingeing his voice.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Cody pauses, taking stock as an idea slowly begins to take form. Carefully, keeping his eyes on his Jedi all the while, he brings the hilt of the lightsaber up to his lips and presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the casing, a far cry from the chaste touches they were sharing earlier.

“What–” From where he’s sitting on the bed, Obi-Wan stiffens. His usual eloquence seems to fail him, instead only managing a single, owlish blink. His cheeks flush furiously, and Cody would be certain that the Jedi Master would be thoroughly scandalised at such an action, were the bond between them not immediately flooded with unfettered arousal.

He wonders if he may have actually broken the proud Negotiator. It certainly looks that way from here.

Cody raises a brow, enjoying the sudden turn of the tables that this move has afforded him. For once in their little games of flirtations, he’s not the one on the back foot.

“Hm?” he prompts, tilting his head innocently. “Was there something you wanted?”

Obi-Wan blinks again, and swallows thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. The Commander grins, bringing the weapon to his lips again.

“Cody,” the Jedi warns. Low, dangerous.

Cody gets the sudden, very strong impression that if he does that again, Obi-Wan might actually jump him.

Well, never let it be said that he’s a man who doesn’t commit when the situation calls for it.

He allows his breath to ghost over the base of the hilt for a moment (something that seems to be causing Obi-Wan’s breath to stutter on each inhale, and Gods does the power of it all go to straight to Cody’s head) before he finally closes the distance to kiss it again.

A startled laugh is forced out of him as he finds himself, rather suddenly, pounced upon by the High Jedi General, the lightsaber clattering out of his hand and to the floor as he’s effectively pinned on his back.

“That is,” Obi-Wan huffs indignantly, “incredibly inappropriate behaviour.”

Cody finds that he rather doesn’t mind being in this position, though he absolutely doesn’t intend on being kept here for long. Obi-Wan is rather pretty, all flustered like this and trying his best to sound stern. “Oh?” he returns, knowing very well that his tone is just provoking the other man further. “Are you planning on court-martialing me?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow. “I very well might.”

Now that’s a challenge if Cody’s ever heard one. Swiftly, he hooks his leg over Obi-Wan's hip, pressing his advantage by forcing his body over and up so that he can gain a more tactically favourable position. His wrists find the Jedi's and hold them fast, keeping them still over his head as his thighs box him in.

Obi-Wan lets out a rather undignified squeak as their positions are so suddenly reversed, attempting to look affronted even as the Force bond betrays him - his heart is hammering just as hard as Cody’s, and it’s worse now that he’s the one pinned. Cody can’t help but smirk. Very good to know, indeed.

It almost reminds him of their hand to hand sparring, except in those situations, Obi-Wan seems much more keen to actually escape.

An expression that can only be described as petulant crosses Obi-Wan’s face, and he wriggles fruitlessly in Cody’s hold. “Using the bond to determine–” he trails off momentarily, choking on the words as his flush gets stronger. “--to figure out that is cheating,” he declares.

Cody is positively delighted to have discovered this side of his Jedi. It is, in his mind, the best outcome - he would have happily slotted into any dynamic the other had wished, simply for the pleasure of getting to be with him, but to have a man of such composure and strength, both of will and physicality, pinned under him and whining for the effort… It’s a rather intoxicating experience indeed.

For a brief moment, Cody wonders just how much more mileage he’d get with a few feet of silken rope. He feels a shiver run through him - now that’s an enticing thought - but for now, he refocuses his attention on the man beneath him in the present moment. There will be time for such exploration later, if he’s lucky.

He dips his head lower to brush a feather-light kiss over Obi-Wan’s jaw, and the veneer of irritation falls away rather rather quickly, along with a shaky exhale of his name.

Along with it, Cody feels struck with an unexpected rush of vulnerability. He knows what he’s doing here well enough in comparison to just sharing kisses, and he can act cocky and confident along with the best of them - but, kriff, he doesn’t just want this to be a quick fuck. He wants this to be good. This is too important for him to fumble now.

It’s impossible to hide his sudden burst of insecurity from Obi-Wan - even without the Force bond, they could always read each other far too well. With an ease that betrays just how much he was letting himself be overpowered, he slips a wrist out of Cody’s hold, reaching up to run his fingers slowly through the coils of his hair. His hand settles at the base of his neck, tangling in the strands there. “It’s alright, darling,” he murmurs softly, searching Cody’s gaze with a reassuring smile. “We don’t have to.”

Cody implicitly knows that he means it too, entirely with no judgement attached. Stars, he’s too good to him. Cody closes his eyes.

“I want to,” he replies, letting the sincerity and vulnerability bleed through his tone. “It’s just…” he sighs, and leans down to press his forehead to Obi-Wan’s, taking a moment to ground himself, to breathe the Jedi in. It’s more calming than it has any right to be. “… fuck, you mean so much to me. You know that.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softens further. “There is no possible existence in which you could disappoint me, Cody,” he says. “Though perhaps we should take it a little slower to start with. As… enjoyable as this arrangement is,” he adds, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Cody smiles, his heart aching with just how full it feels, and carefully rolls onto his side, freeing Obi-Wan in the process. The Jedi turns over to face him, and he leans in to gently capture his lips in his.

“Probably for the best,” Cody admits between kisses, relieved that they’re both on the same page, “but next time–”

The grin that splits the Jedi’s face is blinding. “I very much look forward to it. But for tonight…”

A soft hum escapes Cody as Obi-Wan leans in to press a kiss to his neck, his breath hitching as he feels the rasp of his beard scrape against the skin there. Cody takes the opportunity to map out the other man’s frame over the top of the many layers separating them, taking a moment to lament that this would be much easier were he bedding literally anyone else in the Galaxy. Damn the Jedi for their insistence on their unnecessarily complicated uniform.

Obi-Wan must sense his woe, as with a soft chuckle, he pulls back just enough to untie the front of his robes, giving Cody better purchase to begin removing them. In response, the Jedi gives an insistent tug on the bottom of Cody’s shirt, clearly not wanting to be left too far behind.

The rush of pure emotion that Cody feels through the bond when he reaches up to pull his shirt over his head makes his head swim. He blinks ahead at Obi-Wan as he tosses the fabric onto the floor behind him, entirely unsure what to do with the sheer admiration he feels directed towards him.

“You’ve seen me shirtless before,” is all he can think to say, a little dumbfounded. Obi-Wan shakes his head.

“Yes, but hardly in this context, my dear,” he counters. He reaches out to run his hand over the Commander’s bared torso, skating his fingers over the dips at his ribs, his thumb smoothing over an old, long-forgotten blaster wound from his training days. There’s a sense of reverence involved in the movement that Cody isn’t sure he deserves.

Obi-Wan grins, looking up at Cody through his lashes, a boyish mischief in his eyes. “And besides, what makes you think that I don’t usually have this reaction to seeing such a glorious sight? I’m just better at hiding it when we spar.”

Cody snorts, resuming his cardinal work of divesting his Jedi of his clothes. “You– you’re going to have to sit up so I can–”

Obi-Wan nods, already moving to accommodate Cody’s impatient hands, removing his tabard and shimmying out of the tunic underneath. Cody temporarily pulls away to take the thick fabric in hand for a moment before it can be thrown away as carelessly as his own shirt - it may be just wool, but unlike with Cody’s, this is Obi-Wan’s armour.

Cody may not be Mandalorian - not properly - but the Vode took on some of their beliefs, all the same, and made them their own.

Protective garb is sacred. Obi-Wan’s robes, with all they signify to the Jedi too, are even more so. Reverently, Cody takes a moment to fold them neatly and place them upon the bedside table. When he turns back to face the Jedi, he nearly forgets how to breathe.

Stars above.

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to flush now as Cody brings all of his attention to him.

He brazenly lets his eyes roam the Jedi’s form, taking all of him in and desperate to memorise it as best as he can.

Ginger hairs curl at his chest, and Cody reaches out a hand to card through it, the marks and freckles he’s shamefully admired for so very long during sparring sessions so different now in this context, intimate and up-close. Cody is incredibly aware that he is finally - finally - no longer barred from looking, and he takes full advantage of the privilege, drinking in the sight of the Jedi as if he may never get another chance.

Obi-Wan’s skin is dusted by a litany of scars earned from a lifetime of battle, near-fatal misses and friendly duels and accidental nicks alike. Two of them, crossing neatly over his chest and under the pectoral muscle, are the result of medical procedure rather than combat, he’s been told. Cody traces the line of them with a touch that borders on devout, his heart pounding as Obi-Wan shivers lightly in response.

“You’re beautiful,” Cody whispers, his mouth dry as it hits him that this is all very real. “I…” he blinks as his eyes catch on something else, just over Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

He stops in his tracks, all previous thoughts halted in an instant. Shit. He’d forgotten…

Cody swallows, his heart dropping violently.. “Let me see,” he requests quietly.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, trying to shift how he’s sitting so that Cody can’t see his back, but the Commander is quicker, placing a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder to still him so he can take a proper look. Obi-Wan sighs, but relents.

His stomach feels like ice as he takes in the sight of the marred, jagged flesh left by the repeated, cruel lashings. No other scars have healed quite as wrongly as these, left for days without any form of treatment, bacta or surgical. Cody’s lungs choke him for a different reason, now.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan says softly, as if trying to soothe a distressed child. “It’s in the past.”

Cody’s expression twists. A Jedi may be above such concepts as revenge and retribution - but he is not a Jedi - he’s free to hate the Zygerrians for what they did, and he does so without shame. “In the past,” he repeats, the words coming out hollow. “It’s been barely three months.”

“And I am at peace with it,” Obi-Wan asserts gently, and Cody feels a sense of truth filter through the bond to him. He swallows thickly, his eyes glued to the scars. He hasn’t actually seen them before now - for a long time after that fateful mission, the Jedi had been covered in bandages and bacta patches whenever they sparred, and then after that came their undercover mission, in which Cody specifically had made every effort to not so much as glance in his shirtless General’s direction.

It just hadn’t come up before now.

“I… I just…” Cody feels the weight of it all come crashing back. He remembers - he’s not certain he can ever forget - that feeling of terror when the report first came in. It was succinct; a single line that made Cody feel like the ground was falling out from under him and subsequently searing itself into his memory:

Kenobi, Skywalker, Tano, and CT-7567 in enemy captivity: hold operations until more orders come through.

The week that followed was hell.

Cody had spent practically every second of each day glued to his datapad, waiting for the next piece of news to come in, feeling utterly terrified and useless when nothing did.

It was only when the ships had returned home, unexpected and unannounced, that Cody had remembered how to breathe again. He recalls the way his body shook as he read the mission reports, and if he thinks too hard about it now, it still does.

He tears his gaze away from the remnants of the lashings, meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he confesses in a whisper, his voice thick with emotion.

And Rex, his mind supplies for him. He thought he was going to lose his little brother at the same time. Cody curses softly under his breath in Mando’a.

Obi-Wan’s expression softens, and he turns to face Cody once more, shielding his view from the memories of that time. “Darling,” he murmurs, cupping Cody’s face and leaning in close. “Now is not the time for dwelling on such things.”

Cody allows himself a hesitant smile and swallows past the lump in his throat. He’s right, he knows. He exhales slowly, trying to let go of the residual anger that courses through him. He won’t let it poison this moment.

“Convincing,” he says after a beat, allowing his fingers to thread once more through the coppery strands of the Jedi’s hair. So smooth and straight, unlike his own - he has no idea how the other man manages without it falling into his face all the time.

A wry smile twists the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth. “Well, they do call me the Negotiator for a reason.”

That elicits a genuine smile from Cody. “You know damn well you hate that title.”

“True. But I am rather good at being persuasive.”

When Obi-Wan kisses him again, Cody knows that it’s a tactical manoeuvre more than anything - a trick to drag his focus forcefully to the present. The dull scrape of blunt nails over his scalp makes that point abundantly clear, but all the same, knowing that he’s walking into the trap doesn’t make it any easier to avoid. He groans into the kiss, pulling the Jedi impossibly closer.

The Jedi tilts his jaw, coaxing Cody into deepening the kiss, and Gods Cody never knew that just kissing alone could ever feel this good. Perhaps the drink usually numbed him, or perhaps his previous partners just didn’t have their heart in it either, but this, comparatively, is divine. Cody could drown in this feeling, and be content with just this forever, even if they never went any further.

Stars, though, is Cody thrilled that they get to go further.

He’s acutely aware of his inexperience as his tongue brushes against Obi-Wan’s, but for the first time this evening, it doesn’t translate into worry. He’ll learn. They have time.

They continue like that for as long as Cody has patience for, and then he presses Obi-Wan back into the mattress below, his breath ghosting over the Jedi’s ear as he tries to keep his impatience in check. Slow, he reminds himself. They're taking this slow.

“How do you want this?” he murmurs, taking delight in the way the stoic General seems to have turned into a puddle in his arms. It’s an ego boost, to be certain, but Cody hopes he can hold it together - he has, after all, much more affection to shower him with before the night is over.

“I– ah,” Obi-Wan pants softly, his thoughts scrambled even through the bond. It gets worse as Cody scrapes his teeth over the shell of his ear. “I’m flexible,” he manages to get out, a pleasing flush having risen to his cheeks as Cody pulls back to look down at him, “but I tend to prefer being on the, ah– receiving end, as it were.”

Cody grins. “Works for me.”

His hand slips to Obi-Wan’s thigh, squeezing the muscle there gently, before drifting up to cup the clear evidence of his arousal. The Jedi hisses, gritting his teeth as his hips jerk upwards a fraction. Cody raises a brow, a smirk flitting across his features.

“Someone’s sensitive,” he comments, adding a little pressure with his palm. He’s rewarded with a strangled gasp from Obi-Wan, his nails digging into Cody’s shoulder, hard.

Near instantly, Obi-Wan eases his grip with an apologetic look. “Forgive me, I… it’s been a while.”

Cody shakes his head, dipping low to mouth along the Jedi’s neck. He continues to work his palm along his clothed erection, eliciting a soft whimper from Obi-Wan. The sound is sweeter than music, and he idly wonders how long he can draw it out for. He’s hoping to conduct a whole symphony, if the Jedi will allow it.

“I can take it,” Cody murmurs with a low, appreciative hum. “Grip onto me all you like.”

Obi-Wan huffs out a strained chuckle, his head tipping back against the pillow. “You may regret saying that, my love.”

My love. Cody lets out a shuddering breath, redoubling his efforts. It’s not long until a sheen of sweat has broken across the Jedi’s brow, writhing and gasping below him, and finally, finally, Cody moves to unbuckle the other man’s belt, tugging down the last of the fabric shielding him from view.

… Holy shit.

Cody takes a moment to just appreciate the debauched sight beneath him. Obi-Wan lays flushed and wanting against the sheets, hair mussed up and breath unsteady, his cock sitting heavy and hard below a mass of red curls, precome drooling lazily from the flushed tip already.

He looks like a painting. A fallen angel - beautiful and ethereal and sinful and Gods above Cody wants to fuck him until he forgets his own name.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath. “Force, Cody, you can’t just think things like that–”

Cody realises belatedly that he must have been channeling all of his thoughts, unfiltered, through the bond. He can’t find it in himself to pretend to be bashful about it, grinning down at the Jedi. “Sorry,” he lies, reaching for his own belt and relishing in the way Obi-Wan’s eyes darken, following his movements. “I’ll have more of a mind for propriety going forward.”

“Propriety,” Obi-Wan repeats dryly. “Yes, I’m sure you’re very–”

His words get cut off with a strangled ‘oh’ as Cody pulls himself free of his smallclothes, and the Commander has to smother the way he wants to preen in response to the sheer lust the sight stirs in his Jedi.

He dives down to drink in Obi-Wan with a kiss, a harsh curse slipping from his lips at the sensation of their cocks sliding together between their bodies, already slick with sweat and precome. He reaches between them to take them both in hand, pumping along the lengths of them in a slow, languid stroke.

The sound it elicits from the both of them is pure filth, moaning and panting into one another’s mouths - Cody suddenly finds himself incredibly grateful for how out of the way the General’s quarters are from the rest of the bunks, otherwise they’d almost certainly have been overheard by now.

Cody twists his wrist, squeezing lightly, and Obi-Wan’s hand shoots out to grab Cody by the arm.

He stills his movements immediately, looking down at Obi-Wan with a question in his eyes. The Jedi exhales slowly, and Cody can feel him trying to tether himself to any thread of control he can reach.

“Sorry–” Obi-Wan starts, his voice hoarse. His eyelids flutter, gazing up at Cody through his lashes. “Just, this will– this will be over far too quickly if you keep doing that,” he breathes. Cody nods in understanding, chasing away his apology with another kiss. At this point, their lips are bruised and swollen to the point of discomfort, but neither of them care.

“Tell me what you want, then,” Cody implores in a whisper, withdrawing his hand to skate his fingers slowly up and down Obi-Wan’s side. “I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

The bond thrums with the heady promise of his words, and he knows Obi-Wan can feel his dedication to him, his admiration, his love. He’d follow him into the fires of hell, if he asked - but Obi-Wan would never demand something like that from him. Paradoxically, that fact only adds to his certainty of the notion.

Obi-Wan swallows thickly, looking once again entirely helpless at the force of it all. “Cody… I do not deserve such devotion from you, darling. I fear I never have.”

Cody hums. “You have it regardless. Now,” he nips lightly at Obi-Wan’s neck, promptly soothing the sting with the flat of his tongue as Obi-Wan’s hips buck deliciously against him. “What can I do for you, cyar’ika?”

“A-ah, well,” the Jedi stammers, reaching up to trace a feather-light finger over the scar at Cody’s temple. “Your earlier suggestion through the bond was rather tempting - if you’re still amenable.”

Cody can’t help the way he fondly rolls his eyes at his tone. “So very formal of you,” he teases gently, prodding the Jedi playfully in his side.

“What else do you expect me to say?” Obi-Wan returns indignantly, carding his fingers through Cody’s curls. It’s a pleasant feeling, but not enough to distract Cody from his goal.

“I don’t expect anything. But it would be nice to hear you say it,” he replies, amused by the way Obi-Wan seems to fluster under the request.

“... Fine,” he acquiesces, though he tugs gently at Cody’s hair in lighthearted protest. “I want you to-- Stars - I want you to… to fuck me so hard that I can’t comfortably walk tomorrow.” His nose wrinkles, affronted by the crudeness of his own words. “Happy?”

Cody chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose. “Very.”

Reluctantly, he pulls back to sit up, sparing a quick glance around the room. “Not to delay us any further, but… I don’t suppose that you have anything that could help with that endeavour, do you?”

Obi-Wan hums, his brow suddenly creasing as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

“There’s a tube of bacta in my bedside table?” he offers after a moment of thought.

Cody levels him with a flat gaze. “Bacta,” he repeats.

The Jedi folds his arms, attempting exasperation, but the amusement in his eyes is clear. “Oh, my deepest apologies for not having anticipated needing to pack lube for what was supposed to be a two day trip in which I was not expecting a bedmate. My mistake, Commander. It won’t happen again.”

“A good Jedi is always prepared, so you always say,” Cody replies sagely. Obi-Wan swats at his shoulder with a laugh.

“Bedside table,” he reminds him, aiming for a reprimanding tone but smiling too much for it to be at all effective. “Before I get impatient.”

A snort leaves Cody’s lips as he reaches over to root around in the drawer. “Yes, sir, General, sir,” he quips, amused at the grumble that elicits from the Jedi. Swiftly, he retrieves a small tube of bacta gel and unscrews the cap. It’s a little thick, and probably colder than would be ideal, but it’ll do the trick.

“Allow me,” Obi-Wan suggests with a glint in his eye. He plucks the tube from Cody’s hands, depositing a generous amount in his palm and setting straight to work in applying it to Cody’s cock. The cool sensation combined with the heat of the touch causes Cody to nearly double over at the waist, unable to control the sharp hiss of pleasure that leaves him.

“So beautiful,” Obi-Wan praises softly, running his free hand over the flexing muscles of his torso, watching appreciatively as Cody’s body tenses and ripples under his ministrations.

“You’re one to talk,” Cody manages to say through gritted teeth, reaching down to nudge apart Obi-Wan’s legs and settle between them as the Jedi finishes preparing him. “Are you relaxed enough to…? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Obi-Wan nods, allowing Cody to hook his legs over his shoulders, his breath stuttering as a feeling of anticipation settles over the both of them, echoing in the bond. “I have the Force to aid me,” he reassures him. “I’ll be fine.”

Cody nods, taking a moment to line himself up.

This - this is the moment when he always wakes up from the shameful dreams he’s kept secret for so long, hard and aching and empty. The exquisitely tortuous feeling of the head of his cock catching on Obi-Wan’s entrance tells him that by some miracle, this is all very real.

“Eyes on me, cyare,” he commands softly, nearly losing all composure as Obi-Wan turns his lust-filled, lidded gaze onto him. “That’s it. Fuck, okay, I’m gonna–”

Inch by inch, he begins to push in, and Obi-Wan’s fingers twist in the sheets hard, his eyes rolling back from the pain and the pleasure. “C-Cody– ah!”

A broken curse in Mando’a leaves Cody unbidden as he bottoms out in his tight heat, burying his face into Obi-Wan’s neck and panting as the Jedi keens and arches beneath him. The bond pulses with arousal, feeding back each other’s emotion to them and intensifying every moment twofold.

Cody reaches out for the bond, needing to feel it, just as Obi-Wan does the same…

… and the galaxy stops existing around them.

All of a sudden, they are one singular being rather than two, their souls merging and entwining for one precious moment. Cody is, all at once, filled and stretched and clawing at his own back as Obi-Wan is him, sinking into that sublime heat that connects them. Two minds, impossible to tell apart.

Each breath in is a revelation, their heartbeats synching as if they were always built to become this together - two halves of a perfectly harmonic whole. To put a word to it, it’s euphoria.

Cody - or maybe Obi-Wan, it’s impossible to tell which sensations are coming from him and which aren’t at this point - gasps as he adjusts to the feeling. He has never quite understood what the Jedi meant by the ‘light’ and the ‘dark’ - hells, he couldn’t even conceptualise what the Force in general felt like before this morning - but now, he knows it, so clearly it’s almost blinding.

Obi-Wan is the Light in all of its clarity. It flows through him, through the both of them, like a beacon, amplified by the sheer elation he’s experiencing. It’s a transcendental, religious experience, and he’s certain that he feels a tear slip down his own cheek, even as he sees himself brush it away from Obi-Wan’s skin. Reality is melding, the distinction between the two of them becoming nothing but an unimportant footnote in the overall experience of their coupling.

It’s been hours, days, months - though most likely only minutes - and Cody realises hazily that they’ve started moving together without even realising. He withdraws from the bond just enough to gain a sense of himself again, giving his lover a shaky smile as he cups his face tenderly.

“Obi-Wan,” he whispers.

“Cody.”

It is not the pounding-into-the-mattress that he had intended to give him earlier, but it is nonetheless the most breathtakingly intense moment of connection in Cody’s life. He feels the way warmth and tightness have begun to coil low in his stomach, and he knows he’s getting close. It’s a little fast, perhaps, but he knows he can’t restrain himself for much longer - not after that.

With a gentle hand, he reaches between them to squeeze at the base of Obi-Wan’s cock, feeling it pulse in his palm. He wants them to come apart together. He needs it like he needs air.

Obi-Wan throws his head back with a low moan, needy gasps and whines leaving him with each steady thrust of Cody’s hips. Cody ups the pace, just slightly, but keeps it as controlled as he can.

They’re both teetering on a knife’s edge, set off by each other, and he’s keenly aware that it won’t take much to send them toppling over.

“That’s it, mesh’la,” Cody croons, pumping his hand with a little more urgency now. “I want to see you come for me.”

He feels Obi-Wan tighten around him, the Jedi’s eyes snapping open with a broken gasp of something that sounds suspiciously like “I love you,” and just like that, it’s all over for Cody.

His hips stutter, driving deep inside as they cling to one another like a lifeline, utterly lost in all but each other as he spills into him with a desperate cry.

It feels like hours later when his scrambled thoughts return to him and his limbs finally obey his desire for movement, pulling out with a soft grunt.

Obi-Wan hisses softly at the loss, lazily flicking his wrist to call a towel to him from across the room with the Force. He wipes them both down swiftly before tossing the cloth away and pulling Cody close. The Commander is more than content to be held, not feeling any particular need for words in this moment. After sharing something like that, what more can be said, anyway?

The afterglow is - somehow - even lovelier than the sex itself. Obi-Wan’s arm is slung over his side, his face buried into his neck and their legs tangled together as they bask in the blissful endorphin-led haze that settles over them like a warm blanket.

More eloquent men than Cody might write poetry about such things, coming up with pretty descriptions for the intimacy, the satisfaction, the peace that suffuses his very being, but all he knows is that he feels…

Happy.

Uncomplicatedly, blissfully, happy. No threat of this being ripped away from him at any moment, no fears that he’s going to wake up tomorrow feeling cold and hollow… he presses a kiss to the top of Obi-Wan’s head, and the Jedi lets out a contented sigh.

After a few minutes of luxuriating in the stillness that follows, Cody clears his throat quietly, breaking the silence.

“Obi-Wan,” he starts hesitantly. The Jedi stirs sleepily, nodding for him to continue. “Did I hear what I thought I did? When you…?”

Obi-Wan raises his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That depends,” he replies. “What do you think I said?”

Cody rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“By myself, mostly.”

A light laugh leaves Obi-Wan’s lips. “Very true.” He shifts, pressing his forehead to Cody’s chest and taking in a deep breath.

For a long moment, Cody wonders whether or not he’s going to get an answer when the Jedi speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes,” he confesses, his vulnerability bleeding through into the single syllable. “I said that I love you.”

Cody closes his eyes briefly, his heart swelling in his chest.

“Good to know,” he murmurs, pulling Obi-Wan impossibly closer. The Jedi hums, reaching over to pull his duvet over the both of them.

“It is, isn’t it?”

They doze for a while, though Cody is reluctant to actually let himself fall asleep. This moment has been a hard won victory, and he doesn’t want it to be over just yet - though he knows that he’s fighting a losing battle with both his mind and his drooping eyelids.

With how tired he is, even allowing himself to blink is starting to become a game of chance.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan starts, his fingers idly drawing patterns over his side. “I’ve been wondering… if that anomaly in your brain scan - the ‘blip’, as Helix called it - is connected in any way to this latent Force sensitivity,” he murmurs, his words softened with sleep.

Cody presses a kiss to his lover’s forehead, his eyes winning the battle against him and slipping closed as he lets out a noncommittal hum. “Perhaps. But I’m not really Force sensitive. I can just feel you.”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Obi-Wan counters. “I’ll need to run my tests again. But regardless, perhaps an obstacle has been dislodged, or…” he breaks off into a yawn. “... We can talk about it in the morning. We should really get some sleep.”

“Mm.” Cody cracks open one eye with a herculean effort. “You should know I have no intention of leaving the battalion,” he says.

Obi-Wan smiles. “I’m glad to hear it. I would think this was a rather elaborate way of saying goodbye, if you were.”

Cody huffs out a tired laugh. “It’s…” he pauses, feeling that earlier sense of vulnerability rear its head again, though he doesn’t allow it to take hold like last time. “It’s truly alright if I stay?”

“I would prefer that you did, but please don’t feel pressured on my behalf,” Obi-Wan responds diplomatically, but Cody feels his arm around him tighten at the mere suggestion he might leave. He grins, settling down into the bed with a sigh.

“In that case, I’m not going anywhere,” he promises quietly, and it’s his turn to yawn now.

“Good.”

With a wave of the Jedi’s hand, the light in the room flickers off.

In the quiet that follows, Cody focuses on the sound of his Jedi’s breath as it slowly evens out, allowing it to lull him into a sense of deep peace.

“I love you,” he whispers into the darkness, half-certain that Obi-Wan is already asleep.

“I love you, too,” the voice in the darkness whispers back, and Cody wonders if this is what it feels like to be whole.

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