aspentreewrites

[aspentreewrites]

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:

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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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

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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.”

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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.”

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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.

✷✷✷✷✷

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

[aspentreewrites]

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

[aspentreewrites]

[aspentreewrites]

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

[aspentreewrites]

From chapter 4 of and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot by @aspentreewrites

[aspentreewrites]

Stay behind me, General!

[aspentreewrites]

🩵🧡🩵🧡 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:

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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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.

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

[aspentreewrites]

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:

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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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.

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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.

next chapter

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

[aspentreewrites]

Flowers & cannons chapter 7 is so close to being finished..... I just need to write the [REDACTED] scene properly and then edit and I am free!! There are a lot of moments in this one that I need to Get Right but I think it will be worth it :')

[aspentreewrites]

THANK YOU!! ☺️☺️

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

Chapter 6

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter!!) slow burn, pining, injuries and angst, force bond shenanigans, tending to wounds, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

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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A/N: If you saw me misfire and post this draft 30 minutes ago no you didn't lmao. Sorry for the delay in posting this one - I got married last week!!!!??!! It still feels surreal lol. Thank you for bearing with me :) I hope you're all doing very well. Your comments have all been so kind, I'm always so very happy to read them.<3

Thanks as always to @whenyourfavouritedies for beta'ing this chapter!!!

Wordcount: 10.2k

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

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It first finds Cody in the early hours of the morning, just as he’s donning his armour in preparation for the final briefing before they touch down on Mekrun. It’s been a little over two weeks since his last deployment, and truth be told, he’s itching to get back into the fight.

He’s in a meditative state in his quarters as he slips on his bracers, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the mission ahead. He’s looking forward to being on the ground again, blaster in hand - it’s been a while since he and his General have been able to work together like that on the battlefield.

There’s nothing like that exhilaration, the feeling of being so entwined with another person that you may as well be one singular weapon, the movements of your bodies like a dance - always in sync, always in tandem.

It’s while Cody’s mulling over that thought, an absent smile tugging at his lips, when… something happens.

A small crack; a splintering at the back of his consciousness.

The pressure is small, gentle; breaking through to him like a baby bird hatching cautiously from an egg. Cody freezes, his body tensing at the foreign sensation.

It’s subtle - incredibly subtle. To any normal person’s mind, it might be something altogether ignorable. 

Cody, trained from birth to zero in on any potential danger and neutralise it, is far from a ‘normal person’.

The Commander gets the instinctive, incredibly disorienting sense that he’s not quite alone.

His head whips around to face the door, desperately trying to figure out if an intruder has slipped into his room. Could that be the source…?

All the while, that sensation in his mind continues scratching, tapping, fracturing.

It’s not that it gets stronger as the seconds pass, but it feels like it’s settling - burrowing deeper. Cody doesn’t know how, exactly, he’s able to identify what it’s doing, it just feels… strangely intuitive.

His mind races, trying to pin down the threat. 

Something is here. Something that shouldn’t be.

Cautiously, with a shaky intake of breath, he begins to probe at it - as much as one can probe at something that exists entirely within the brain, anyway - trying to get a sense of what this tiny, budding thing wants with him. His back finds the wall as his eyes continue to dart around, doing his best to keep himself steady. 

Why does it feel warm?

Not uncomfortable warm, like the trickle of blood down the side of the temple after a hit to the head, or like being choked by fire in the middle of the battlefield. No, it feels more like… basking in an expected beam of sunlight after a storm, feeling those first rays kiss your skin.

It’s almost as if it’s alive, Cody thinks faintly, partially hoping that this is all just some dream, the result of a fever he didn’t know he had. 

After the minute or two of analysis prove unfruitful, he pulls away from inspecting the sensation. The feeling of it at the back of his mind quickly returns to a light background hum at the corner of his consciousness, nearly unremarkable in how unobtrusive it is. Cody curses under his breath.

All he knows: this is far from normal.

He stays against the wall, unmoving and heart pounding, for what feels like an eternity before he pulls himself together enough to pull on his helmet.

He prods at it once more as he uncertainly ventures out into the hallway, each step weighing on him heavily. This… thing, certainly doesn’t feel hostile, but…

It might not want to hurt him, but it’s definitely, undoubtedly a concern.

Whatever it is might well pass, but Cody decides that he has enough time before his meeting with Obi-Wan this morning to make a quick drop in to see Helix anyway. If this is the result of some sickness, it would be better to deal with it now than in the middle of a firefight, if possible.

Helix is one of the best medics in the GAR - perhaps the best, by Cody’s estimate - and as such, he is exceedingly well versed in the art of giving bad news. There’s a particularly sympathetic type of expression that he makes that any seasoned member of the 212th could identify from a mile off - calm, neutral, expertly schooled to never look overly worried or condescending. The type of look that tells you that something’s probably wrong, but that it’s going to be dealt with as efficiently as possible.

… Which is why it’s of particular concern to Cody that right now, after he’s just patiently sat through a million scans, the man is making a face.

“What?” Cody asks stiffly, swinging his legs over the side of the medbay bed. Helix doesn’t immediately respond, instead continuing to gaze down at his datapad. His frown, unnervingly, deepens.

The nervous anticipation builds further in Cody with each second that ticks by in silence. The agony of it is almost comparable to a kick in the ribs from a varactyl - and Force knows he’s been on the wrong end of Boga enough times to know intimately what that feels like.

Helix lets out a grumble under his breath, and Cody swiftly revises his thoughts. No, actually: this experience is assuredly worse. 

He knows he should wait until the medic has had time to look over the results properly, but he’s getting more and more restless by the moment. Cody can’t help but press again, beginning to get a little desperate for a response - any would do, at this point, even just a word or two. 

“Is it the–” Cody hesitates briefly, unsure if he wants to give voice to this particular worry. “--Whatever that thing was that you found the other day? The… blip?”

Cody fidgets uneasily for a few more moments before Helix finally glances his way with a shake of his head. The Commander isn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or even more anxious at the blankness that’s overtaken the stoic medic’s features. 

His nervous system decides for him, settling on a strange, gut twisting tension. “No,” he replies. “The anomaly we found on the scan the other day seems to be… unrelated.” 

Right. That should be reassuring, Cody thinks. Somehow, it isn’t.

Putting his datapad down on his desk, Helix crosses the room in measured steps. He stops just short of Cody, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and then his facade falls. He… suddenly looks terribly concerned. Oh, Gods. Cody meets his gaze with what he’s sure is an equal amount of panic. 

“Commander,” he begins, taking a moment to gather together his words.

Cody decides that he must be dying. There’s no other explanation for this, surely.

Ah, well, he thinks, dazed, as he waits for Helix to continue. Twelve years old. I’ve had a better run than most. 

Still, Cody considers upon reflection, he’s always been of the opinion that he would die with a blaster in hand. The idea of some parasite in his brain taking him down is almost insulting.

Helix shifts, clearly uncomfortable with the verdict he’s going to have to dish out. “You might be in charge of the battalion, sir, but that doesn’t mean you’re invincible.” His voice is firm, bordering on reproachful, and Cody braces himself for impact. “Not from physical wounds, or…” he presses his lips into a thin line, “emotional ones.”

What?

“We’ve been built to be more mentally resistant than the average civilian, but post traumatic stress disorder can still–”

Cody chokes.

“I– Helix, that’s– it’s really not the problem,” he interrupts in a frantic stammer, wanting to be anywhere in the galaxy but here, having this conversation. Yes, he has the nightmares, they all do, but that has absolutely nothing to do with the situation at hand.

It becomes swiftly, humiliatingly clear that Helix isn’t convinced by his weak protest. 

“I’m just saying, the scans all turned up clean,” he responds sympathetically - and now there’s that face that he’s so damned good at. The medic’s calm demeanour is usually a reassurance to Cody, but in this moment it’s quickly becoming an irritant. He’s highly aware that he’s not going to be believed no matter what he follows up with. 

Cody frowns, craning his neck to try and get a look at the words written on the medic’s datapad over on his desk. “I’m not going insane,” he insists.

“I never said those words exactly,” Helix responds carefully, drawing the Commander’s attention back to him by moving to block his view. “But… a ‘cracking sensation’ in your mind..” he repeats with a raised brow, and Cody winces. It does sound bad out loud, admittedly. 

Helix sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “I think you’re incredibly stressed, Commander,” he continues, “and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Anyone would be, with the responsibility you carry. But it means you need to go on medical leave, soon. After today’s mission.”

Absolutely not. Cody levels him with a scowl. It’s petulant of him, perhaps, but he knows he’s not going crazy - this is real. It probably won’t be fixed by resting this off. “We both know that’s not going to happen,” he returns.

Helix sets his jaw, holding his gaze in challenge. After a few tense seconds, he relents with a sigh, stepping aside and gesturing resignedly to the door. Cody feels his body relax, just a little, now that he’s allowed to leave. He hates feeling cornered, being spoken to like a child - though quietly, he’s grateful that the medic has enough gall to do it. It’s saved him before.

“I expected as much,” Helix mutters, moving back to his desk and fixing the Commander with a warning glare. “No, I can’t order it unless I have outright evidence that stress is absolutely the cause, but I’m sure the General will agree with my assessment when I send the report over - which, make no mistake, I will be doing first thing when we return this evening.”

Cody, unfortunately, has no doubt about that.

He slinks out of the medbay with his tail between his legs, mulling over Helix’s words of concern as he makes his way through the winding hallways of the ship towards the meeting room. Perhaps if he gets in before Obi-Wan, he can make them both some breakfast. 

A result of stress… Cody’s expression darkens. Helix is incredible at what he does, but he’s categorically wrong in this case. He’s not losing his mind, he’s sure of it. 

(It occurs to Cody, briefly, that most people who lose sanity believe themselves to be fully of sound mind throughout the process, but he quashes the treacherous thought as quickly as it rears its head. That might be true for other people, but not for him.)

And then there’s the secondary concern - that whatever it is, it’s apparently completely separate from the blip that had been detected on the scan a few weeks ago. So there are two undetected unidentifiable things running amok in his brain right this second. Lovely.

Perhaps, he thinks, he can get a second opinion from the Jedi. Surely Obi-Wan can… scan him, or something, using the Force - then he can figure out what the real cause is, and fix that from there. If it is a living thing like he’d guessed, then it should be easily detectable, right?

That’s a good idea, Cody affirms to himself. Obi-Wan is already inside, I can speak to him about this after we’ve gone over the initial plans. Cody pauses just outside the door to the meeting room, his hand hovering over the controls as he blinks rapidly. 

He just thought that with a remarkable amount of confidence. It’s very early in the morning and the door is closed, why wouldn’t Cody be the first one in?

And yet, somehow, he’s certain. Obi-Wan is inside the room with two cups of caf, waiting for him to arrive. One of the cups, his mind tells him calmly, has sweetener in it.

That fact strikes Cody as odd.

Unusual, he protests internally, not entirely sure why this, specifically, is the sticking point for him amidst this rather unorthodox situation. Why sweetener?

Because, his mind supplies easily, we ran out of sugar reserves this morning.

Cody decides faintly that the possibility he’s lost his mind has just increased tenfold.

He shakes his head, trying to shake the strange thoughts that have been placed there by who-knows-what - there is still a meeting to be had, strange feeling or no. Cody presses his hand to the door controls with a confidence he doesn’t quite feel, and the door swooshes open smoothly ahead of him. 

Inside, Obi-Wan stands, his brow furrowed as he looks over the rudimentary battle plans they’d prepared last night. He looks like he hasn’t slept all that much, which is a strangely comforting piece of normality within this very disorienting morning.  

Cody’s eyes fall to the two mugs of caf that sit on the surface in front of him. A packet of opened sweetener sits on the counter nearby, fetched unhappily from the far back of one of the supply cupboards.

Ah.

For the first time in his military career, Cody doesn’t feel particularly smug about the fact that he was right about an impossible hunch.

Obi-Wan glances up from his work with a tired smile, oblivious to the war being waged in his Commander’s head. “Good morning, my friend. Shall we get started?”

Cody just about manages to nod and smile weakly in return. Later, he resolves. He can tell him about what’s going on in his head later. 

For now, there’s a battle to plan.

_____________________________

As it turns out, ‘later’ may mean not today at all.

There have been far too many updates from the ground to consider, far too many new plans to be made for Cody to rationalise being able to bring up anything new and potentially worrying to Obi-Wan. The promise of ‘later’ quickly becomes ‘when we’re safely back on the Venator and have probably had some sleep’. 

It also doesn’t hurt that Cody has spent most of the meeting fretting about Obi-Wan’s reaction and inevitable overblown concern, and as such is incredibly willing to put off the conversation for as long as possible.

It probably should feel more urgent, given the nature of it, but he decides that it can at least wait a few hours. They have lives to save on the ground, after all.

The Negotiator hangs stoically above the planet of Mekrun as they deliver the briefing to their men. It’ll be a hot landing - right in the centre of one of the biggest zones of the firefight - and the promise of action still sends a thrill through Cody, despite the worry this morning. 

He was literally created and raised for this, and in these moments, Cody finds that he doesn’t care as much as he probably should. Something in his blood that flourishes under fire, he supposes, and he knows that most of the Vode share that same spark, the love of the adrenaline, right or wrong.

“We will be splitting into two teams,” Cody announces, looking out across the sea of 212th gold gathered before the two of them. There are a few shinies present, not quite having earned their paint stripes yet - a shipment from Kamino that arrived barely a week prior. Today will be an exciting start for them, he hopes - and it shouldn’t be too dangerous of an assignment, to boot. 

Cody looks forward to seeing how they decorate themselves after today. Pride stirs in his chest as he sees the eagerness in their eyes, the evident excitement at becoming officially part of such a renowned battalion. He hopes to get to know them all properly tonight, safely returned and in good health.

Stepping forwards, he gestures to the hologram that’s rotating above the centre console in the room. It’s currently displaying a layout of the battlefield below, the layout of the local geography, and most importantly, the system’s Communications tower - the protection of which is the reason for their presence here today. 

“Alpha team will accompany the General into the comms tower on the north side, in the hopes of intercepting and disabling the bombs being planted there. We’re not expecting many of the Separatists to be present, but the ones that will be are priority for takedown.”

He zooms out a little on the holomap.

“The rest of us will make up Bravo team, coming in to hit the droids on their flank here,” he says, pointing to the southern fields a few kilometres away from the tower. “With any luck, we can repel the ground forces before they’ll have a chance to call in too many reinforcements.”

“There’s already a squadron down there made up of the local guard,” Obi-Wan adds calmly, stroking a thoughtful hand over his beard. “Cody’s team will join them in their base, creating a distraction so that my team can - hopefully - slip in and out of the comms tower without drawing too much notice. This infrastructure is vital to both the civilians and Republic operations of this sector, so we must ensure it isn’t destroyed outright.”

He glances at Cody, giving a subtle nod for him to continue.

“The distraction will be conducted in a way to draw the enemy down to us in the southern quadrant,” the Commander explains, taking over smoothly. Delivering a strategy briefing clearly and efficiently is almost like an art in Cody’s mind, and he would like to think that he and Obi-Wan are exceedingly well practiced at it. “It’s the safest place to engage, away from both the tower and the living space of the engineers that work there. Once we see that they’re turning their attention to us, I will rendezvous with Alpha team and we’ll regroup from there.”

Adrenaline creeps through Cody’s veins, anticipation of the fight to come building within him. He powers down the holomap, his eyes drifting over his men one by one, seeing the same emotion stirring within each of them as they stand, that spark in their eyes unmissable. 

“To recap, then,” he says evenly, folding his hands behind his back. “Alpha team, with Obi-Wan: stealthing into the tower, disarming the bombs, getting any civvies to safety. Bravo team, with me: get in fast, cause enough mayhem to draw as many troops as possible south. I’ll split to rendezvous with Alpha once my team is sufficiently set up, and we’ll progress with any impromptu plans then. Any questions?”

It takes less than 5 minutes for all queries to be sufficiently answered, and a further 10 for the 212th to be gathered at the dropships. 

Exactly 20 minutes later, they’re planetside.

The familiar smell of smoke and burnt circuits fills the air as Cody disembarks from the ship, plasma flying through the air in all directions and a cacophony of violence filling his ears.

The excitement in his veins is, he imagines, as potent as any hit of spice.

Maybe Helix was right in that there’s something wrong with him, but being on enough battlefields throughout his life has Cody's mind strangely tangling up the feeling with the thought of ‘belonging’. 

Perhaps it's a natural reaction. He's a clone; he has nowhere, he owns nothing - nothing but the fire and ash of war, the rifle placed in his hand, the brothers who he fights alongside.

… And the Jedi he was sworn to protect. 

As the last of Bravo team exit the ship behind him, Cody makes sure to distance himself from that particular train of thought before it can do any damage. Now is not the time for such distractions.

“With me!” he calls, signalling for his men to follow as he makes a rush for the cover of a fallen tree.

Swiftly, Cody assesses the battlefield ahead from his current vantage point. The local guard here have put up a formidable defence considering their numbers, but this level of warfare is not something they’d been trained for. Now’s the time to free them of that burden. 

The communications tower looms in the distance a few klicks northwest of their location. It stands a little ways up a cliff, overlooking a ravine below - all points for potential reinforcements to be stationed, if Obi-Wan’s team is particularly unlucky. 

Cody knows he’ll need to bring out all of the stops to divert the clankers’ attention exclusively to the fight down here, but he’s got enough tricks up his sleeve that he’s not particularly worried. They have around seven minutes before Alpha team will be sneaking their way into the tower - that’s five more than Cody needs. 

He allows himself a small smirk behind his helmet. Showtime.

Cockiness is not a trait of Cody’s that he likes having - it irritates him when he sees it excessively in his peers, and he is more than aware that giving himself over to it is a surefire way to get himself killed - but sometimes he can’t help himself. He’s damned good at what he does, and he knows it. On a mission like this, he can indulge himself a little.

With a practiced hand, he carefully removes an EMP from the pouch at his hip. He rolls it in his palm as he watches a large group of clankers in the field ahead marching towards the dugout base their allies are camped in. They’re likely preparing an ambush. Cody’s eyes narrow. 

Not on his watch. 

“Droid poppers at the ready, men,” he instructs quietly. “We rush the platoon on my signal.”

Behind him, he hears the squad prepare themselves, a series of quiet rustles as they draw out their grenades in unison.

“Hold…”

It’s as if Mekrun itself is holding its breath along with them - the moment of calm before the storm hits.

Cody lets out a slow breath to keep his movements steady, tilting his arm back as the droids gather together, ever closer… his eyes track the droids, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Now!” he barks.

A volley of EMPs launch overhead, scattering amongst the feet of the enemy. The droids don’t even get the chance to panic before the poppers all go off in unison, pulses of electromagnetic energy causing the entire group to collapse in on themselves in a shower of sparks.

Cody launches out of cover alongside his men, picking off the clankers before they have time to reactivate.

“Keep moving! We don’t stop until the bastards are sending everything they’ve got to us!” he yells. “Get to the dugout, go!”

The battle, once they successfully gun their way down to the hastily made guard station, proves to be one of attrition.

Over the next hour, Bravo team make their stand, slowly but surely cutting down the waves of droids sent to their location.

It’s an odd thing to be relieved about facing down a group of destroyers, but when the droidekas come, Cody knows without question that they’ve drawn the worst of the horde away from the tower. 

It quickly becomes a pattern - Cody leads a small group above ground, drawing the encroaching clankers nearer to the dugout. Once they’re close enough, the rest of the squad dash above ground to surround them and take advantage of their surprise. 

It’s not the most elegant of battle plans, admittedly, but it works damned well. It seems the Seps here weren’t expecting any form of meaningful, planned resistance, and they’re paying the price for that now.

By the time Cody feels satisfied that the rest of his men can take care of themselves, they’ve started carving a tally to track their kill counts on an old wooden pallet inside the base. Cody is content enough with being in second - he’d be far out in first place if not for the combination of a conveniently clustered group of B1s and a particularly well aimed grenade by Wooley.

One of the shinies, a fairly diminutive sniper named Blackbird, is in dead last and not particularly pleased about it. They’ve been repeatedly warned of the consequences - the tragic fate of being the one to cover the first round back at 79’s when they make it home. As Cody prepares to head off to the rendezvous point, he hears another officer trying to bolster their spirits by promising that most of the boys will probably only order something cheap. It doesn’t seem to cheer them up much.

The Commander can’t quite stifle his chuckle, patting the kid on the shoulder as he passes.

“Rite of passage, rookie. You’ll manage. Just make sure you don’t fall in the field to get out of the punishment, yeah? Eyes sharp and watch your flank.”

The young clone nods, sitting a little straighter after the acknowledgement from Cody. “Y-yes sir.” they reply, offering a sharp salute. They haven’t yet managed to speak to him without stuttering, at least a little. 

Over the years, Cody has become more than aware that he’s inspired a certain… mythos from the Vode back on Kamino. More often than not, any newly assigned troops have stars shining in their eyes during their first few weeks of deployment whenever they speak to him. Apparently Rex and a few of the 501st ARCs have had the same issue. 

It’s flattering really, just… misplaced. He might be a decorated name, but off-duty they’re all equal. The last thing Cody wants is to make his brothers intimidated by him. It’s an uncomfortable notion.

Still, he offers a smile, giving Blackbird a short nod before he begins to jog away. 

Once safely clear of the danger of the open field, Cody activates the comms at his wrist. “Alpha team, I’m heading for the rendezvous at the scheduled time. I believe our distraction has been successful, but the fight is ongoing. What’s your status?”

Only static and silence greets him in response. Cody frowns. He gives it a minute before he tries again.

“Alpha team, status report.”

Nothing.

Great.

It would be incredibly nice, Cody reflects as he picks up the pace with a groan, for things in the field to go as planned just once.  

_____________________________

The rendezvous point isn’t far, thankfully, and a majority of Alpha team – currently headed by Waxer – are already there and waiting by the time Cody arrives.

They offer salutes as he approaches. Obi-Wan, for whatever reason, doesn’t seem to be with them.

“At ease,” Cody nods, a question in his gaze as he gestures for Waxer to go ahead. 

“Commander,” the Lieutenant begins, clearing his throat before giving his report. “We disarmed the bombs successfully, but the Seps did a number to the tower during the fight. It’s fixable, but comms are gonna be out in the system until the engineers can get back to work.”

Cody had suspected as much, but it’s a relief to hear the tower hadn’t been damaged beyond repair. It’ll certainly make the imminent cleanup efforts much simpler. 

“The General and a few others split off to sweep for more survivors,” Waxer continues, “but he shouldn’t be long. There were only a few members of the maintenance team missing by our count, and he said he sensed they were nearby.”

Cody relaxes a little at the news. It looks like they arrived quickly enough to prevent too many civilian casualties - an unfortunately rare circumstance as of late, so it’s not something he’ll take for granted. It’s looking so far like this will be an easy win for the Republic. 

“Understood,” he replies. “Good work. Bravo team are holding strong at the southern quadrant. The distraction there has been successful, and with your team going to support them, we should be able to take out the remaining stragglers easily enough. The Seps are turning their attentions to–”

Cody freezes unexpectedly, his blood turning to ice. Nausea settles over him as his mind prickles with an altogether horrifying sense of knowing.

Obi-Wan is hurt.

Waxer blinks over at his suddenly-motionless Commander. “Uh…” He waits for a few moments in bewilderment, glancing back to the rest of his men before he clears his throat quietly. “... You were saying, sir?”

Obi-Wan is hurt. There’s not much time. 

The strange sensation that Cody had tucked away at the back of his mind this morning rings out with alarm. It doesn’t feel like speculation, or a voice speaking from anxiety and fear - it feels like concrete, unmistakable fact. 

Not much time? Cody thinks desperately in return, trying his best to communicate with the feeling. It doesn’t respond.

Oh, Stars, no.

For a long few seconds, all he can do is just stare at Waxer, dazed and disoriented as he tries to find his voice again.

“The–” his throat sticks. He tries again. “The General is– injured.” Cody stammers, his voice coming out weak. 

His stomach churns with a sense of dread that won’t subside, and he momentarily forgets how to breathe. He catches himself reaching for his comm-link instinctively, before he remembers that there is absolutely no way he can get a message to his General right now, or in the immediate future, not with the tower damaged. Damn it all. “Where did he and his squad go when they split?”

Waxer shifts in surprise. “What? None of us can reach him sir, how did you–?”

Finally, Cody’s training kicks in and he manages to wrangle some sense of control from the haze. Some strange divine force is connecting him to his Jedi, and if it’s telling him the truth, then it might be enough to save Obi-Wan’s life. His prime directive above all else is to keep his Jedi safe, and he will move the stars themselves to do so if he has to. The feeling is disorienting and his fear is mounting, but he can cope with that. He has to act.

His gaze snaps back to Waxer, grasping his brother’s shoulder firmly. “Tell me where he went, Lieutenant,” he commands, hearing his words coming out much stronger than before, to his relief. “That’s an order.”

Waxer straightens up. “The north ridge, Commander, right by the chasm. But I don’t know if he took the road up to the cliff, or–”

No. He took the path to the ravine. He’s still there.

Cody’s mind is suddenly, sickeningly overtaken by images of his General laying face down in a stream, his blood seeping out into the water around him. Was it the presence in his head showing him that, or was it just the result of his own terror? Gods help him, he can’t tell.

“Understood,” Cody says, beginning to stride away.

He feels his stomach twist - he’s actually believing everything this damn voice is telling him. If it turns out that some parasite or Separatist chip has infected him, he might be walking right into a trap… but Cody knows that he can’t afford to take that risk. Not when so much might be at stake.

He begins to run, barking orders over his shoulder. “I have flares. Prepare a med-evac to sweep over the ravine if I don’t signal in the next thirty minutes. Until then, the team at the south field needs backup - I’m counting on you, Lieutenant!” 

The run turns into a sprint, spurred on by the alarm bells inside him screaming at him to move, move, move.

“Sir–!” Waxer calls after him. “The weather– there might be a flood incoming, are you sure you want to–?”

The Commander pays the warning no mind. A sudden flood in the ravine might well be both possible and deadly, but as long as there’s a chance that Obi-Wan’s down there, his job is to drag him out before then. He can’t afford to waste a second.

If you’re lying, I’ll make you regret it, he thinks pointedly to the voice in his head, on the off chance that this is some malicious, external force peering into his mind. Once again, Cody’s attempts at communication go unacknowledged. He’s strangely glad of it - at this point, he’s fairly sure that having it respond would make him feel worse. The threat serves to make him feel marginally better, at least.

As the path down to the ravine comes into view, Cody feels his chest tighten, sending a silent prayer out to any god that will listen that he makes it on time.

Just hang on. I’m coming.

_____________________________

The ground beneath Cody’s feet changes from mud, to pebbles, to the splash of shallow water as he makes it to the base of the chasm.

Please be nearby, Cody thinks desperately as he searches, the strange sensation in his head giving way to an intuition about the directions he needs to take. He doesn’t like the feeling of trusting it blindly, but he doesn’t have much choice. Please be alive.

Further in, it whispers to him, faster.

Cody doesn’t think he’s ever run so fast in his life, but he spurs himself on even so.

The water is fast-flowing but still mercifully shallow, though Cody doesn’t want to imagine just how quickly that could change with the threatening rainclouds that have started to gather overhead. Waxer might have been right in his warning, but it’s far too late for worrying about that now.

He skids down a small slope, taking himself ever lower into the winding chasm. His heart pounds wildly against his ribs as he spots a body near the bend ahead, a flash of gold and white armour, unmoving. The sound of blaster fire has been steadily getting closer with each footstep.

Fuck.

Sprinting around the curve in the rock, Cody’s worst fear is confirmed.

Ahead of him, the ravine widens, the cliffs on either side rising imposingly, impassive observers to the carnage happening within. 

The group of his brothers that had splintered from Alpha team are dead. Their bodies are scattered, cast aside as they wait for the rain to wash their corpses into the lake downstream.

A collection of droids and a group of people - mercenaries? - clad in dark gear are engaged in a shootout with one another within the canyon. This would ordinarily be enough to stop Cody in his tracks - they hadn’t been informed of another faction’s presence here, and he doesn’t know where their allegiances lie - but right now, he doesn’t have the time to try and work out what’s happening or why. 

Instead, his gaze is glued to the body being dragged further through the chasm by the hands of one of the mercenaries - the body clad in a thick brown cloak that’s enveloping lighter, fawn coloured robes; the body that’s currently slowly bleeding out from a gash in its side; the body of the man he loves.  

Cody doesn’t stop to observe further.

He’s - recklessly, certainly, but he can’t just sit and just wait - storming out into the open in seconds, beelining straight for the man pulling Obi-Wan along behind him like some prized prey from a hunt. 

His blaster is raised, and they’re not expecting him - one clean shot to the back of the head is all it takes. 

A snarl rips itself from Cody’s throat as the mercenary tumbles forwards to the ground, dropping Obi-Wan’s body unceremoniously into the shallow stream - by some mercy landing on his back, and not face down into the water. 

The attention of the surrounding hostiles are all now very decidedly on Cody as he continues to sprint ahead.

It’s an open space with no cover, and Obi-Wan’s body is in the centre of it all. He can’t exactly fight back with his blaster, so he does the only thing he can reasonably think of to do in the time allotted to him. 

Reaching his Jedi’s side, he swiftly reaches down to unclip the lightsaber that - miraculously - had remained at his belt throughout whatever fight he’d faced earlier. 

Cody presses his thumb firmly into the activator as he plants his feet over the body of his fallen General, sparing only a quick glance downwards to the pallid face of the Jedi beneath him. He doesn’t have the time to check his pulse or breathing now, not while they’re surrounded by enemies. Please, please be alive. 

The hum of the saber and the gentle vibration that buzzes through the hilt is a steadying force as blaster bolts continue to fly around him in all directions. He’d love to have the luxury of stopping to ask questions, but it doesn’t seem as if he’s going to get the chance before he or everyone else here lies dead.

One afternoon, long ago, Obi-Wan had shown him the basics of Soresu - Cody hopes that he remembers enough to make it through this.

His addition to the fray certainly seems to have confused both factions. The droids enter into a panic, shooting at anything that moves, including their own numbers. Most of the mercenaries stand their ground, though a handful decide that it would be in their better interest to abandon their quarry (and presumably, their paycheck) and retreat further into the ravine. 

They wanted to take Obi-Wan’s body. Why?

Cody stays above the Jedi, pivoting on the spot to parry incoming bolts back to their senders. Without the use of the Force to aid him in intuiting where the shots are coming from, he can only try his best amidst the chaos. Every shower of sparks or yelp of pain from a returned bolt that connects is a victory, buying himself a few more precious seconds before the next projectile comes his way.

Cody can barely find the ability to think, let alone to form a cohesive plan. All of his thoughts are concentrated on surviving second to second until he can safely reach the flare gun at his hip.

He brings down the lightsaber in an arc to slice through the shoulder of a mercenary that had unwisely decided to chance running his way, before twisting around his body to block an incoming bolt from the right. His joints aren’t loose enough for this type of thing, he thinks with a grimace. It suddenly makes sense to him why Obi-Wan insists on warming up each day with dancer-like stretches and movements before he trains - all of these acrobatics are hell on the hips.

Keeping the saber in front of him swinging rapidly, Cody does his best to estimate a count of the enemies that remain. The two groups around him are carving through one another at such a rate that hopefully this won’t last too much longer. 

A splash of water drips from the visor of his helmet, followed by another, then another. If Cody’s body could tense further, it would.

The drizzle of rain would be welcomingly cooling if it weren’t for the threat the worsening weather represents. He’s all too aware that all of his efforts would be for nothing if they both drown down here.

Centering himself as best as he can, Cody remains steadfast. Fighting so desperately as the heavens open above him - a part of him is reminded of Kamino, of his training. The headspace is a welcome one to slip into, and he allows himself to draw focus from it. This is no different to then, he tells himself. I survived every day back then, I’ll survive now.

A volley of shots come his way, and he spins the lightsaber around himself in an approximation of a move he’s seen from Obi-Wan in the past to deflect them. It proves mostly effective, but one bolt nearly finds its mark, tearing a scorch mark through his right pauldron. 

The shootout intensifies for a few unsettling seconds, and then, to Cody’s unease, all falls unnaturally still. 

He doesn’t waste the opportunity, surging forwards in a hope to cut down the last of the droids, but before he can reach it, it crumples in on itself, crushed by… nothing. Before Cody has time to react, the last two mercenaries fall to their knees, their faces turned to the cliffs above, one uttering a hoarse cry of the word “Master!” 

There’s a chuckle from somewhere high above him, and Cody tears his eyes from the men, risking the glance upwards. 

Something is very, very wrong.

A cloaked figure stands on an outcropping, watching him as a wild predator watches its prey. 

Cody grits his teeth, raising the lightsaber a little higher.

“So, Kenobi has found himself a little pet, has he?” the figure calls down to him, sounding sickeningly amused. Their head turns toward the mercenaries. “You… have failed me. Run, and be grateful for your lives.”

His voice, gravelly and low, echoes through the ravine, and Cody becomes incredibly aware as the mercenaries scramble to escape that it is now only him, the Jedi on the ground, and this stranger. Alone for miles in any direction.

The figure - a man, by the sounds of his voice - leaps down into the ravine proper. It’s a drop that would kill anyone else, or at the very least break some bones - this person, however, lands with a feline-like grace. 

He must be a Force user then, Cody concludes, his eyes never leaving the threat and his feet remaining rooted to the ground over the Jedi. 

It is, unquestionably, his duty to keep his General safe. If Obi-Wan lives, then Cody will drag him out of here or die trying, but if – the thought almost causes his heart to rip apart here and now - if Obi-Wan is dead, then he will protect his body to the last. No one else will touch him, not while Cody still draws breath.

“Come now, clone,” the stranger rasps. He sounds winded - potentially injured from an earlier fight, Cody notes. He’ll take any advantage he can get, right now. The man lifts his hood to reveal himself as a Zabrak, distinctive red and black markings carving up the sections of his face into sharp, jagged portions. A striking visage - Cody’s never seen anything like it. “Surely you don’t wish to throw away your life to protect a dead man’s honour. Hand him over.”

Cody focuses on the weight of the saber’s hilt in his hand, taking a deep breath and easing his white-knuckle grip as much as he can. Obi-Wan had told him once that you need to treat a lightsaber like a dancing partner, not like a tool. 

Work with it, and trust that it will work with you, he hears his words echo in his mind. It shouldn’t be swung like you would a simple club, or an axe.

He is tense, alert, but in this moment, he is not scared. He is Commander Cody of the 212th Battalion. He has never faltered in the face of death, and he faces it down with the same steadiness now, dogged and unflinching. If this man truly is a Force user - a Sith - then let the stories of this final stand be sung by his brothers into eternity.

Cody holds the Zabrak’s unblinking gaze. “If you want him,” he says, trying to channel that effortlessly calm, firm tone that his Jedi flaunts in the worst of situations, “then I’m afraid you’ll have to go through me.”

The Sith’s lip curls up in a cruel sneer, all pretense of composure discarded in an instant. “Your blind loyalty to the one who holds your leash is touching,” he spits, venomously. “But in the end, it won’t save either of you.” 

He reaches into his cloak, drawing his own lightsaber and activating it, crimson red and double-bladed.

Cody’s eyes widen in horror and recognition, a cold shiver creeping up his spine. That blade… he knows exactly who this is.

With the knowledge of his name comes the knowledge that his chances of seeing tomorrow are slim, but Cody feels his resolve only grow in the face of it. Knowing that this is the bastard who has made it his mission to hound and torture Obi-Wan over the course of his life, he’s even more determined to keep him away from his Jedi at all costs.

“Maul,” Cody states, his voice low. The Sith begins to stalk around Cody in a slow circle, a viper waiting to strike. Cody leans a little further back on his left foot as he turns in place to meet him, the lesson on Soresu lingering at the back of his mind.

Maul smiles at Cody’s recognition. “It’s so nice to hear that he still talks of me, even after all this time.”

All hell breaks loose.

Cody narrowly avoids being struck as Maul launches forwards with an unnatural speed. He brings up Obi-Wan’s lightsaber to block at the last second, the force of the clash reverberating through his arm, up into his shoulder with a stinging pain.

Relax the muscles, he remembers Obi-Wan telling him as he corrected his form, fighting while tense will only harm you.

As the Zabrak darts over to the other side of him, Cody acts, striking him with the back of the lightsaber hilt. He leaps backwards in a desperate attempt to gain a few seconds of freedom, using them to pull out the flare gun and fire into the air. 

Maul snarls, pressing the attack once more. Cody throws the gun to the side, redoubling his efforts on blocking and redirecting hits. If Waxer saw the flare go up - and Force, he hopes he did - all he needs to do is survive for a few more minutes.

… A few more minutes against the man that killed Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn in less than five when fighting one on one. A bead of sweat trickles down Cody’s temple.

Easy.

He grunts as Maul lands a kick to his abdomen, stumbling back a few steps but being sure to maintain his grip on the lightsaber. Being disarmed here would be a remarkably quick way to die. 

They trade blows back and forth, Cody focusing on the defensive, Maul pushing in every chance he gets. It’s an exhausting effort, and he’s sure his panting is audible through his helmet, but he’s still on his feet, scrapping for every inch he can take.

Commander Cody, as he has done in so many battles before today, holds the line.

Each second he stalls is another second won of analysis; learning how Maul moves, the speed at which he’s about to rush in and attack, the patterns he’s about to swing his saber in - and then Cody sees it.

His left side. 

He’s favouring his left side.

Each of his attacks are weighted, so his right arm must be damaged. If Cody can exploit that–

He grunts as he wards off a particularly strong slash to his side.

– then he might stand a chance of survival.

Cody draws back, loath to move too far from Obi-Wan’s unconscious form, but knowing that he has to risk it in order to press this advantage. Shielding, he reminds himself. He has to shield, or else Maul will be able to anticipate what he’s about to do.

The Sith smirks, his expression near manic in his relentless pursuit. “Scared, little clone?” he taunts, watching in clear sadistic amusement as Cody retreats a few more steps. 

Cody subtly adjusts his stance, as if he’s going to continue to block. He raises his chin in defiance, his eyes narrowing. It’s what Maul will expect to see.

“No.”

Maul smiles. “The tremor in your voice betrays you.”

Time seems to slow as the Zabrak charges, his blade raised overhead to strike.

Cody plants his feet, feigning a block before darting to the right at the very last second and bringing Obi-Wan’s blade down to catch the top of his shoulder.

It doesn’t go deep, but the damage is done. Maul hisses in pain, backing up rapidly as his right arm hangs limply by his side. Cody doesn’t dare let his guard down yet, repositioning himself in front of Obi-Wan.

Maul snarls, his eyes flashing with anger. “You dare–”

Just as he begins to speak, thunder rolls in the distance. The threat of a sudden flood looms heavily over the both of them on this impromptu battlefield, and Cody lets out a shuddering breath. It’s bad news, but all the same, it might be the best news possible for him.

He sees the moment the truth dawns on the Sith - by staying here, they’re both risking certain death by drowning - a ravine this narrow and deep would fill with water in seconds. Even if Maul wasted time killing Cody here - and he could, even when injured, no doubt - he couldn’t drag away Obi-Wan’s body as he had his lackeys trying to do earlier, not with his injured arm.

For whatever reason, his motive was to take the Jedi’s body along with him, and now there’s not enough time. 

Either all three of them die here and now, or Maul gets the chance to escape before their med-evac arrives.

Cody keeps the saber raised, even as the Sith takes another step back, evidently considering his options. His expression turns unnervingly blank as his eyes alight on Cody once more. There’s something more in his gaze now, something that wasn’t there before - recognition? Respect? 

“Clever boy,” he murmurs, dipping his head. He deactivates his lightsaber, holstering it at his side and clutching at his injured arm with a grimace. “You’ve forced my hand. Very well.”

Cody watches as Maul begins his retreat further into the canyon, the hand gripping Obi-Wan’s lightsaber beginning to tremble with the receding adrenaline. 

“The next time we meet, you will not have the privilege of hiding behind your owner’s weapon,” Maul snarls, his voice echoing through the canyon with that one last lingering threat before he disappears from view entirely. It’s true, Cody knows. He has a target on his back now, the size of a planet - and he’s sure it will be collected on.

For one long, long moment, the Commander simply stands, panting for breath, not quite sure if this is all a stress induced hallucination, or whether he actually survived the encounter. 

The rain, though still light, has been getting progressively worse. It collects at the base of his visor, creating small waterfalls that dance in the periphery of his vision. Briefly, Cody allows himself to close his eyes.

He’s pulled out of his dizzying sense of disbelief by the sound of a soft groan below him.

Alive. 

Cody’s eyes snap open.

A strangled gasp escapes him as he falls to his knees, pulling off his helmet and letting it clatter to the rocks below, scratches be damned, as he sees the Jedi’s breath stutter - not a sign he’s doing well, of course, but there is breath to be had.  

The sheer relief at seeing Obi-Wan alive, the lingering adrenaline from the duel and the sheer shock that his own heart’s still beating all combine to make a dizzying amalgam of uninhibited recklessness. 

He cradles Obi-Wan’s face in his hands, lowering his forehead to press to the other man’s. One of his hands slips to curl at the nape of his neck, and his heart pounds as Obi-Wan weakly reaches up to do the same.

If any of their men could see them now, sharing a keldabe kiss in the middle of the battlefield, they’d never hear the end of it. Cody is very aware that he should be reprimanding himself for this lapse in judgement, should be pulling away to a respectful distance, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

He’s still breathing heavily, and he’s fairly sure that holding Obi-Wan this close means they’re both bleeding onto one another. He doesn’t quite have it in him to care.

“I’ve got you, General,” he manages to choke out, his fingers curling tighter in the Jedi’s hair, afraid that he’ll disappear if he lets go for even a second.

Obi-Wan smiles - Stars, he’s so glad to see that smile - “Quite… the display there, Commander,” he rasps, his tongue darting out to wet his cracked and bloodied lips. Cody swallows. How long had the other man been out here before he arrived, fighting for his life? His free hand slips down to apply some pressure to the wound at his side, trying his best to stem the bleeding. 

Cody feels nauseous with the weight of his worry, and he knows Obi-Wan will be able to sense it. Still, he can’t quite bring himself to give voice to it, instead trying to smile. To his credit, he manages, even if it’s considerably watery. “Ah, I was… trying to impress you. Angling for a promotion, you know.” 

He draws back to raise his head as he hears the distinctive whirr of a LAAT/i approaching, and feels some of the tension drain from him. Not long now. He carefully shifts Obi-Wan, pulling him away from the stream and into his lap, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort the other man is so clearly in. Obi-Wan lets out a breath that sounds more like a wheeze than anything else.

“I believe… the only position you could be promoted to would be mine, Cody,” he comments. He sounds incredibly weary, and his eyes fall shut with the effort of his words.

“Never let it be said that my ambition is held back by common sense,” Cody jokes softly. He gently brushes a few strands of hair away from his Jedi’s face, his gloved fingers lingering at his temple. Obi-Wan’s brows are pinched together, clearly in terrible pain. Cody can almost see the way he’s slipping, losing his grip on his consciousness. 

“Hey. Stay with me,” he implores, his chest tight.

It’ll only be a minute or so at most before the medical evac will arrive, but Cody is incredibly aware that he can’t let the Jedi fall asleep before then. He racks his brain frantically for anything he can say to hold Obi-Wan’s attention, to give him any reason to keep talking.

“Shit,” Cody mutters under his breath, “Obi-Wan, you–”

“I’m trying,” the Jedi mumbles softly, and Cody’s plea dies on his lips. 

Instead, he just clings to him a little tighter. “... I know.”

For a moment there is silence, pierced only by the rushing of the stream beneath them and the uneven, laboured breaths of Obi-Wan. The Commander watches him, swallowing thickly before he speaks. Hopefully this will be enough.

“My name… it’s not actually Cody,” he says. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker open at that, hazy and bewildered, and Cody can’t stop a fondness from entering his expression, despite his concern. A temporary victory. Now to keep it going. “Thought that’d get your attention.”

“It’s not…?” 

Cody shrugs, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his General. The fingers at his temple have long since shifted to tenderly stroking through the wet strands of his hair.

“Well, it is now, I suppose. But it wasn’t initially.” 

Obi-Wan looks like he doesn’t have the strength to keep speaking, but there’s curiosity in his gaze. Cody blinks away the sudden stinging of tears that have gathered at the corners of his eyes. 

Just stay with me for a few more moments, please. You’re nearly there.

“Kamino,” he forces himself to say, even as the words come out hoarse. “During training. My brothers had decided to name me, after I....” 

Cody trails off, deciding that now is not the time to detail the abuses he had (quite stupidly) decided to take the brunt of to take some heat away from the rest of the Vode. Obi-Wan doesn’t need distressing further, today.

“... Well. Kote,” he continues. “They named me Kote. Except, over the years, most people misheard it, and… well, Cody was the one that stuck.” 

Obi-Wan blinks slowly, clearly at war with himself to keep himself conscious. Cody is unsure that the other man has even heard him, let alone taken in his words, but after a long pause, the Jedi gathers himself to speak again.

“‘Glory’,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

A tear escapes down Cody’s cheek as the evac ship finally comes into view above them, lowering into the chasm. Half dead and the man is focusing his energy on accurately translating a fairly archaic word in Mando’a. That’s his Obi-Wan.

“Yes,” he affirms, his tone hushed. “That’s right.”

The Jedi smiles, finally losing his internal battle as his eyelids flutter closed once more. “You wear it well.”

Sudden shouts erupt from behind them as the LAAT/i lands and the medics start to rush their way over to them.

Cody sucks in a shuddering breath. Obi-Wan will make it. He will.

He reaches for his discarded helmet, slipping it back onto his head. With a grunt of effort, Cody lifts the Jedi up into his arms, turning towards the ship. 

“I’ve got him,” he insists to the already-fussing medic as they approach. They reach out to try and take Obi-Wan from him, but Cody adjusts to hold the Jedi tighter, slipping past them.

“I’ve got him,” Cody repeats, his tone probably harsher than it needs to be. He’ll apologise for it later, but for the moment he’s just relieved that they back off.

No one else tries to bother him as he takes a seat on the gunship, holding Obi-Wan securely across his lap. Bacta first, then rest, he thinks wearily.

Somehow, though, he doubts he’ll get much rest in the near future. The weight of the other man in his lap is a reminder of everything he has to lose, and Cody knows himself well enough to be sure that he won’t be doing much more than pacing until his General is conscious and back with him. 

A matter of hours, if he’s lucky. Days, if he’s not.

A deep sigh escapes him as the ship takes off and someone comes over with a scanner to check their vitals.

At least he’s alive. At least they’re both alive, somehow. Cody’s still not entirely sure how he managed it, but he’s incredibly grateful.

He thinks of the squad that will be still on the ground, fighting to take out the last of the Separatist forces. He has confidence enough in Waxer to know that they’ll be doing fine on their own, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel uneasy at being pulled out of the fight like this. 

Outside, the rain worsens, battering against the side of the ship as it continues to ascend. Cody glances down, taking in the states of the ravine he was fighting for his life in mere moments before. The water is filling up in there rapidly, the speed of it already something terrifying to behold.

Cody really, really hopes that Maul didn’t make it.

He knows that he probably did.

_____________________________

Back on the Venator, Cody stands in only his underclothes, a handful of bacta patches plastered over his arms and his back as he stares absently at the bacta tank in front of him. His Jedi floats inside, having been immersed practically upon arrival, his eyes closed and his expression oddly peaceful, given the circumstances.

The lance in his side will likely be a permanent one, but better a scar than a cause of death. 

Helix had left the two of them alone ten minutes ago, charging Cody with calling him if Obi-Wan’s condition suddenly changes, though Cody suspects that the request was only made to keep him inside the medbay and not disappearing off to his room to treat his pain alone, as he has in the past. Even knowing that, it’s working. 

Cody doesn’t want to leave Obi-Wan’s side, not yet.

He begins to pace slowly, his exhausted mind overflowing with everything he needs to tell the Jedi of when he wakes. The mission status, Maul, and… 

Cody pauses in his steps briefly, pinching his brow. And whatever is going on inside his head.  

Whatever the meaning of the feeling, Cody has at least worked out one thing: it seems to be wholly and inextricably tied to Obi-Wan. It lies dormant now, having retreated into the back of his mind at the same time that the Jedi had lost consciousness, but it’s unmistakably still present. Steady, warm - not unlike Obi-Wan himself, he supposes.

It was telling him the truth. That’s the main thing he can’t quite wrap his head around, and in the past hour or so, he’s done nothing but try.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispers aloud to no one in particular. He’s not generally one for angst, nor for lamenting over situations in which he has no control. Something about all of this, though - it feels significant, important for him to understand, though he doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t know a lot of things today, it seems.

Cody takes a seat on the edge of one of the medbay beds with a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

He’ll wait here, he decides, until duty calls him away, or until Obi-Wan wakes up - whichever comes first. The quiet yet incessant beeping of various medical equipment isn’t exactly conducive to his ideal working environments, but he’s completed paperwork in worse places.  

He types out a quick message on his datapad, a request for a mug of caf to be brought to him, along with a blanket. Cody hesitates, glancing over to where Obi-Wan is still healing, then adds an amendment. A double shot, he thinks, would be more sufficient.

Despite his exhaustion, it’s still only the early afternoon.

The Commander sighs again, opening up a few tabs worth of backlogged reports to start reading through.

It’s going to be a very long day.

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

[aspentreewrites]

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

Chapter 6

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter!!) slow burn, pining, injuries and angst, force bond shenanigans, tending to wounds, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

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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A/N: If you saw me misfire and post this draft 30 minutes ago no you didn't lmao. Sorry for the delay in posting this one - I got married last week!!!!??!! It still feels surreal lol. Thank you for bearing with me :) I hope you're all doing very well. Your comments have all been so kind, I'm always so very happy to read them.<3

Thanks as always to @whenyourfavouritedies for beta'ing this chapter!!!

Wordcount: 10.2k

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

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It first finds Cody in the early hours of the morning, just as he’s donning his armour in preparation for the final briefing before they touch down on Mekrun. It’s been a little over two weeks since his last deployment, and truth be told, he’s itching to get back into the fight.

He’s in a meditative state in his quarters as he slips on his bracers, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the mission ahead. He’s looking forward to being on the ground again, blaster in hand - it’s been a while since he and his General have been able to work together like that on the battlefield.

There’s nothing like that exhilaration, the feeling of being so entwined with another person that you may as well be one singular weapon, the movements of your bodies like a dance - always in sync, always in tandem.

It’s while Cody’s mulling over that thought, an absent smile tugging at his lips, when… something happens.

A small crack; a splintering at the back of his consciousness.

The pressure is small, gentle; breaking through to him like a baby bird hatching cautiously from an egg. Cody freezes, his body tensing at the foreign sensation.

It’s subtle - incredibly subtle. To any normal person’s mind, it might be something altogether ignorable. 

Cody, trained from birth to zero in on any potential danger and neutralise it, is far from a ‘normal person’.

The Commander gets the instinctive, incredibly disorienting sense that he’s not quite alone.

His head whips around to face the door, desperately trying to figure out if an intruder has slipped into his room. Could that be the source…?

All the while, that sensation in his mind continues scratching, tapping, fracturing.

It’s not that it gets stronger as the seconds pass, but it feels like it’s settling - burrowing deeper. Cody doesn’t know how, exactly, he’s able to identify what it’s doing, it just feels… strangely intuitive.

His mind races, trying to pin down the threat. 

Something is here. Something that shouldn’t be.

Cautiously, with a shaky intake of breath, he begins to probe at it - as much as one can probe at something that exists entirely within the brain, anyway - trying to get a sense of what this tiny, budding thing wants with him. His back finds the wall as his eyes continue to dart around, doing his best to keep himself steady. 

Why does it feel warm?

Not uncomfortable warm, like the trickle of blood down the side of the temple after a hit to the head, or like being choked by fire in the middle of the battlefield. No, it feels more like… basking in an expected beam of sunlight after a storm, feeling those first rays kiss your skin.

It’s almost as if it’s alive, Cody thinks faintly, partially hoping that this is all just some dream, the result of a fever he didn’t know he had. 

After the minute or two of analysis prove unfruitful, he pulls away from inspecting the sensation. The feeling of it at the back of his mind quickly returns to a light background hum at the corner of his consciousness, nearly unremarkable in how unobtrusive it is. Cody curses under his breath.

All he knows: this is far from normal.

He stays against the wall, unmoving and heart pounding, for what feels like an eternity before he pulls himself together enough to pull on his helmet.

He prods at it once more as he uncertainly ventures out into the hallway, each step weighing on him heavily. This… thing, certainly doesn’t feel hostile, but…

It might not want to hurt him, but it’s definitely, undoubtedly a concern.

Whatever it is might well pass, but Cody decides that he has enough time before his meeting with Obi-Wan this morning to make a quick drop in to see Helix anyway. If this is the result of some sickness, it would be better to deal with it now than in the middle of a firefight, if possible.

Helix is one of the best medics in the GAR - perhaps the best, by Cody’s estimate - and as such, he is exceedingly well versed in the art of giving bad news. There’s a particularly sympathetic type of expression that he makes that any seasoned member of the 212th could identify from a mile off - calm, neutral, expertly schooled to never look overly worried or condescending. The type of look that tells you that something’s probably wrong, but that it’s going to be dealt with as efficiently as possible.

… Which is why it’s of particular concern to Cody that right now, after he’s just patiently sat through a million scans, the man is making a face.

“What?” Cody asks stiffly, swinging his legs over the side of the medbay bed. Helix doesn’t immediately respond, instead continuing to gaze down at his datapad. His frown, unnervingly, deepens.

The nervous anticipation builds further in Cody with each second that ticks by in silence. The agony of it is almost comparable to a kick in the ribs from a varactyl - and Force knows he’s been on the wrong end of Boga enough times to know intimately what that feels like.

Helix lets out a grumble under his breath, and Cody swiftly revises his thoughts. No, actually: this experience is assuredly worse. 

He knows he should wait until the medic has had time to look over the results properly, but he’s getting more and more restless by the moment. Cody can’t help but press again, beginning to get a little desperate for a response - any would do, at this point, even just a word or two. 

“Is it the–” Cody hesitates briefly, unsure if he wants to give voice to this particular worry. “--Whatever that thing was that you found the other day? The… blip?”

Cody fidgets uneasily for a few more moments before Helix finally glances his way with a shake of his head. The Commander isn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or even more anxious at the blankness that’s overtaken the stoic medic’s features. 

His nervous system decides for him, settling on a strange, gut twisting tension. “No,” he replies. “The anomaly we found on the scan the other day seems to be… unrelated.” 

Right. That should be reassuring, Cody thinks. Somehow, it isn’t.

Putting his datapad down on his desk, Helix crosses the room in measured steps. He stops just short of Cody, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and then his facade falls. He… suddenly looks terribly concerned. Oh, Gods. Cody meets his gaze with what he’s sure is an equal amount of panic. 

“Commander,” he begins, taking a moment to gather together his words.

Cody decides that he must be dying. There’s no other explanation for this, surely.

Ah, well, he thinks, dazed, as he waits for Helix to continue. Twelve years old. I’ve had a better run than most. 

Still, Cody considers upon reflection, he’s always been of the opinion that he would die with a blaster in hand. The idea of some parasite in his brain taking him down is almost insulting.

Helix shifts, clearly uncomfortable with the verdict he’s going to have to dish out. “You might be in charge of the battalion, sir, but that doesn’t mean you’re invincible.” His voice is firm, bordering on reproachful, and Cody braces himself for impact. “Not from physical wounds, or…” he presses his lips into a thin line, “emotional ones.”

What?

“We’ve been built to be more mentally resistant than the average civilian, but post traumatic stress disorder can still–”

Cody chokes.

“I– Helix, that’s– it’s really not the problem,” he interrupts in a frantic stammer, wanting to be anywhere in the galaxy but here, having this conversation. Yes, he has the nightmares, they all do, but that has absolutely nothing to do with the situation at hand.

It becomes swiftly, humiliatingly clear that Helix isn’t convinced by his weak protest. 

“I’m just saying, the scans all turned up clean,” he responds sympathetically - and now there’s that face that he’s so damned good at. The medic’s calm demeanour is usually a reassurance to Cody, but in this moment it’s quickly becoming an irritant. He’s highly aware that he’s not going to be believed no matter what he follows up with. 

Cody frowns, craning his neck to try and get a look at the words written on the medic’s datapad over on his desk. “I’m not going insane,” he insists.

“I never said those words exactly,” Helix responds carefully, drawing the Commander’s attention back to him by moving to block his view. “But… a ‘cracking sensation’ in your mind..” he repeats with a raised brow, and Cody winces. It does sound bad out loud, admittedly. 

Helix sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “I think you’re incredibly stressed, Commander,” he continues, “and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Anyone would be, with the responsibility you carry. But it means you need to go on medical leave, soon. After today’s mission.”

Absolutely not. Cody levels him with a scowl. It’s petulant of him, perhaps, but he knows he’s not going crazy - this is real. It probably won’t be fixed by resting this off. “We both know that’s not going to happen,” he returns.

Helix sets his jaw, holding his gaze in challenge. After a few tense seconds, he relents with a sigh, stepping aside and gesturing resignedly to the door. Cody feels his body relax, just a little, now that he’s allowed to leave. He hates feeling cornered, being spoken to like a child - though quietly, he’s grateful that the medic has enough gall to do it. It’s saved him before.

“I expected as much,” Helix mutters, moving back to his desk and fixing the Commander with a warning glare. “No, I can’t order it unless I have outright evidence that stress is absolutely the cause, but I’m sure the General will agree with my assessment when I send the report over - which, make no mistake, I will be doing first thing when we return this evening.”

Cody, unfortunately, has no doubt about that.

He slinks out of the medbay with his tail between his legs, mulling over Helix’s words of concern as he makes his way through the winding hallways of the ship towards the meeting room. Perhaps if he gets in before Obi-Wan, he can make them both some breakfast. 

A result of stress… Cody’s expression darkens. Helix is incredible at what he does, but he’s categorically wrong in this case. He’s not losing his mind, he’s sure of it. 

(It occurs to Cody, briefly, that most people who lose sanity believe themselves to be fully of sound mind throughout the process, but he quashes the treacherous thought as quickly as it rears its head. That might be true for other people, but not for him.)

And then there’s the secondary concern - that whatever it is, it’s apparently completely separate from the blip that had been detected on the scan a few weeks ago. So there are two undetected unidentifiable things running amok in his brain right this second. Lovely.

Perhaps, he thinks, he can get a second opinion from the Jedi. Surely Obi-Wan can… scan him, or something, using the Force - then he can figure out what the real cause is, and fix that from there. If it is a living thing like he’d guessed, then it should be easily detectable, right?

That’s a good idea, Cody affirms to himself. Obi-Wan is already inside, I can speak to him about this after we’ve gone over the initial plans. Cody pauses just outside the door to the meeting room, his hand hovering over the controls as he blinks rapidly. 

He just thought that with a remarkable amount of confidence. It’s very early in the morning and the door is closed, why wouldn’t Cody be the first one in?

And yet, somehow, he’s certain. Obi-Wan is inside the room with two cups of caf, waiting for him to arrive. One of the cups, his mind tells him calmly, has sweetener in it.

That fact strikes Cody as odd.

Unusual, he protests internally, not entirely sure why this, specifically, is the sticking point for him amidst this rather unorthodox situation. Why sweetener?

Because, his mind supplies easily, we ran out of sugar reserves this morning.

Cody decides faintly that the possibility he’s lost his mind has just increased tenfold.

He shakes his head, trying to shake the strange thoughts that have been placed there by who-knows-what - there is still a meeting to be had, strange feeling or no. Cody presses his hand to the door controls with a confidence he doesn’t quite feel, and the door swooshes open smoothly ahead of him. 

Inside, Obi-Wan stands, his brow furrowed as he looks over the rudimentary battle plans they’d prepared last night. He looks like he hasn’t slept all that much, which is a strangely comforting piece of normality within this very disorienting morning.  

Cody’s eyes fall to the two mugs of caf that sit on the surface in front of him. A packet of opened sweetener sits on the counter nearby, fetched unhappily from the far back of one of the supply cupboards.

Ah.

For the first time in his military career, Cody doesn’t feel particularly smug about the fact that he was right about an impossible hunch.

Obi-Wan glances up from his work with a tired smile, oblivious to the war being waged in his Commander’s head. “Good morning, my friend. Shall we get started?”

Cody just about manages to nod and smile weakly in return. Later, he resolves. He can tell him about what’s going on in his head later. 

For now, there’s a battle to plan.

_____________________________

As it turns out, ‘later’ may mean not today at all.

There have been far too many updates from the ground to consider, far too many new plans to be made for Cody to rationalise being able to bring up anything new and potentially worrying to Obi-Wan. The promise of ‘later’ quickly becomes ‘when we’re safely back on the Venator and have probably had some sleep’. 

It also doesn’t hurt that Cody has spent most of the meeting fretting about Obi-Wan’s reaction and inevitable overblown concern, and as such is incredibly willing to put off the conversation for as long as possible.

It probably should feel more urgent, given the nature of it, but he decides that it can at least wait a few hours. They have lives to save on the ground, after all.

The Negotiator hangs stoically above the planet of Mekrun as they deliver the briefing to their men. It’ll be a hot landing - right in the centre of one of the biggest zones of the firefight - and the promise of action still sends a thrill through Cody, despite the worry this morning. 

He was literally created and raised for this, and in these moments, Cody finds that he doesn’t care as much as he probably should. Something in his blood that flourishes under fire, he supposes, and he knows that most of the Vode share that same spark, the love of the adrenaline, right or wrong.

“We will be splitting into two teams,” Cody announces, looking out across the sea of 212th gold gathered before the two of them. There are a few shinies present, not quite having earned their paint stripes yet - a shipment from Kamino that arrived barely a week prior. Today will be an exciting start for them, he hopes - and it shouldn’t be too dangerous of an assignment, to boot. 

Cody looks forward to seeing how they decorate themselves after today. Pride stirs in his chest as he sees the eagerness in their eyes, the evident excitement at becoming officially part of such a renowned battalion. He hopes to get to know them all properly tonight, safely returned and in good health.

Stepping forwards, he gestures to the hologram that’s rotating above the centre console in the room. It’s currently displaying a layout of the battlefield below, the layout of the local geography, and most importantly, the system’s Communications tower - the protection of which is the reason for their presence here today. 

“Alpha team will accompany the General into the comms tower on the north side, in the hopes of intercepting and disabling the bombs being planted there. We’re not expecting many of the Separatists to be present, but the ones that will be are priority for takedown.”

He zooms out a little on the holomap.

“The rest of us will make up Bravo team, coming in to hit the droids on their flank here,” he says, pointing to the southern fields a few kilometres away from the tower. “With any luck, we can repel the ground forces before they’ll have a chance to call in too many reinforcements.”

“There’s already a squadron down there made up of the local guard,” Obi-Wan adds calmly, stroking a thoughtful hand over his beard. “Cody’s team will join them in their base, creating a distraction so that my team can - hopefully - slip in and out of the comms tower without drawing too much notice. This infrastructure is vital to both the civilians and Republic operations of this sector, so we must ensure it isn’t destroyed outright.”

He glances at Cody, giving a subtle nod for him to continue.

“The distraction will be conducted in a way to draw the enemy down to us in the southern quadrant,” the Commander explains, taking over smoothly. Delivering a strategy briefing clearly and efficiently is almost like an art in Cody’s mind, and he would like to think that he and Obi-Wan are exceedingly well practiced at it. “It’s the safest place to engage, away from both the tower and the living space of the engineers that work there. Once we see that they’re turning their attention to us, I will rendezvous with Alpha team and we’ll regroup from there.”

Adrenaline creeps through Cody’s veins, anticipation of the fight to come building within him. He powers down the holomap, his eyes drifting over his men one by one, seeing the same emotion stirring within each of them as they stand, that spark in their eyes unmissable. 

“To recap, then,” he says evenly, folding his hands behind his back. “Alpha team, with Obi-Wan: stealthing into the tower, disarming the bombs, getting any civvies to safety. Bravo team, with me: get in fast, cause enough mayhem to draw as many troops as possible south. I’ll split to rendezvous with Alpha once my team is sufficiently set up, and we’ll progress with any impromptu plans then. Any questions?”

It takes less than 5 minutes for all queries to be sufficiently answered, and a further 10 for the 212th to be gathered at the dropships. 

Exactly 20 minutes later, they’re planetside.

The familiar smell of smoke and burnt circuits fills the air as Cody disembarks from the ship, plasma flying through the air in all directions and a cacophony of violence filling his ears.

The excitement in his veins is, he imagines, as potent as any hit of spice.

Maybe Helix was right in that there’s something wrong with him, but being on enough battlefields throughout his life has Cody's mind strangely tangling up the feeling with the thought of ‘belonging’. 

Perhaps it's a natural reaction. He's a clone; he has nowhere, he owns nothing - nothing but the fire and ash of war, the rifle placed in his hand, the brothers who he fights alongside.

… And the Jedi he was sworn to protect. 

As the last of Bravo team exit the ship behind him, Cody makes sure to distance himself from that particular train of thought before it can do any damage. Now is not the time for such distractions.

“With me!” he calls, signalling for his men to follow as he makes a rush for the cover of a fallen tree.

Swiftly, Cody assesses the battlefield ahead from his current vantage point. The local guard here have put up a formidable defence considering their numbers, but this level of warfare is not something they’d been trained for. Now’s the time to free them of that burden. 

The communications tower looms in the distance a few klicks northwest of their location. It stands a little ways up a cliff, overlooking a ravine below - all points for potential reinforcements to be stationed, if Obi-Wan’s team is particularly unlucky. 

Cody knows he’ll need to bring out all of the stops to divert the clankers’ attention exclusively to the fight down here, but he’s got enough tricks up his sleeve that he’s not particularly worried. They have around seven minutes before Alpha team will be sneaking their way into the tower - that’s five more than Cody needs. 

He allows himself a small smirk behind his helmet. Showtime.

Cockiness is not a trait of Cody’s that he likes having - it irritates him when he sees it excessively in his peers, and he is more than aware that giving himself over to it is a surefire way to get himself killed - but sometimes he can’t help himself. He’s damned good at what he does, and he knows it. On a mission like this, he can indulge himself a little.

With a practiced hand, he carefully removes an EMP from the pouch at his hip. He rolls it in his palm as he watches a large group of clankers in the field ahead marching towards the dugout base their allies are camped in. They’re likely preparing an ambush. Cody’s eyes narrow. 

Not on his watch. 

“Droid poppers at the ready, men,” he instructs quietly. “We rush the platoon on my signal.”

Behind him, he hears the squad prepare themselves, a series of quiet rustles as they draw out their grenades in unison.

“Hold…”

It’s as if Mekrun itself is holding its breath along with them - the moment of calm before the storm hits.

Cody lets out a slow breath to keep his movements steady, tilting his arm back as the droids gather together, ever closer… his eyes track the droids, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Now!” he barks.

A volley of EMPs launch overhead, scattering amongst the feet of the enemy. The droids don’t even get the chance to panic before the poppers all go off in unison, pulses of electromagnetic energy causing the entire group to collapse in on themselves in a shower of sparks.

Cody launches out of cover alongside his men, picking off the clankers before they have time to reactivate.

“Keep moving! We don’t stop until the bastards are sending everything they’ve got to us!” he yells. “Get to the dugout, go!”

The battle, once they successfully gun their way down to the hastily made guard station, proves to be one of attrition.

Over the next hour, Bravo team make their stand, slowly but surely cutting down the waves of droids sent to their location.

It’s an odd thing to be relieved about facing down a group of destroyers, but when the droidekas come, Cody knows without question that they’ve drawn the worst of the horde away from the tower. 

It quickly becomes a pattern - Cody leads a small group above ground, drawing the encroaching clankers nearer to the dugout. Once they’re close enough, the rest of the squad dash above ground to surround them and take advantage of their surprise. 

It’s not the most elegant of battle plans, admittedly, but it works damned well. It seems the Seps here weren’t expecting any form of meaningful, planned resistance, and they’re paying the price for that now.

By the time Cody feels satisfied that the rest of his men can take care of themselves, they’ve started carving a tally to track their kill counts on an old wooden pallet inside the base. Cody is content enough with being in second - he’d be far out in first place if not for the combination of a conveniently clustered group of B1s and a particularly well aimed grenade by Wooley.

One of the shinies, a fairly diminutive sniper named Blackbird, is in dead last and not particularly pleased about it. They’ve been repeatedly warned of the consequences - the tragic fate of being the one to cover the first round back at 79’s when they make it home. As Cody prepares to head off to the rendezvous point, he hears another officer trying to bolster their spirits by promising that most of the boys will probably only order something cheap. It doesn’t seem to cheer them up much.

The Commander can’t quite stifle his chuckle, patting the kid on the shoulder as he passes.

“Rite of passage, rookie. You’ll manage. Just make sure you don’t fall in the field to get out of the punishment, yeah? Eyes sharp and watch your flank.”

The young clone nods, sitting a little straighter after the acknowledgement from Cody. “Y-yes sir.” they reply, offering a sharp salute. They haven’t yet managed to speak to him without stuttering, at least a little. 

Over the years, Cody has become more than aware that he’s inspired a certain… mythos from the Vode back on Kamino. More often than not, any newly assigned troops have stars shining in their eyes during their first few weeks of deployment whenever they speak to him. Apparently Rex and a few of the 501st ARCs have had the same issue. 

It’s flattering really, just… misplaced. He might be a decorated name, but off-duty they’re all equal. The last thing Cody wants is to make his brothers intimidated by him. It’s an uncomfortable notion.

Still, he offers a smile, giving Blackbird a short nod before he begins to jog away. 

Once safely clear of the danger of the open field, Cody activates the comms at his wrist. “Alpha team, I’m heading for the rendezvous at the scheduled time. I believe our distraction has been successful, but the fight is ongoing. What’s your status?”

Only static and silence greets him in response. Cody frowns. He gives it a minute before he tries again.

“Alpha team, status report.”

Nothing.

Great.

It would be incredibly nice, Cody reflects as he picks up the pace with a groan, for things in the field to go as planned just once.  

_____________________________

The rendezvous point isn’t far, thankfully, and a majority of Alpha team – currently headed by Waxer – are already there and waiting by the time Cody arrives.

They offer salutes as he approaches. Obi-Wan, for whatever reason, doesn’t seem to be with them.

“At ease,” Cody nods, a question in his gaze as he gestures for Waxer to go ahead. 

“Commander,” the Lieutenant begins, clearing his throat before giving his report. “We disarmed the bombs successfully, but the Seps did a number to the tower during the fight. It’s fixable, but comms are gonna be out in the system until the engineers can get back to work.”

Cody had suspected as much, but it’s a relief to hear the tower hadn’t been damaged beyond repair. It’ll certainly make the imminent cleanup efforts much simpler. 

“The General and a few others split off to sweep for more survivors,” Waxer continues, “but he shouldn’t be long. There were only a few members of the maintenance team missing by our count, and he said he sensed they were nearby.”

Cody relaxes a little at the news. It looks like they arrived quickly enough to prevent too many civilian casualties - an unfortunately rare circumstance as of late, so it’s not something he’ll take for granted. It’s looking so far like this will be an easy win for the Republic. 

“Understood,” he replies. “Good work. Bravo team are holding strong at the southern quadrant. The distraction there has been successful, and with your team going to support them, we should be able to take out the remaining stragglers easily enough. The Seps are turning their attentions to–”

Cody freezes unexpectedly, his blood turning to ice. Nausea settles over him as his mind prickles with an altogether horrifying sense of knowing.

Obi-Wan is hurt.

Waxer blinks over at his suddenly-motionless Commander. “Uh…” He waits for a few moments in bewilderment, glancing back to the rest of his men before he clears his throat quietly. “... You were saying, sir?”

Obi-Wan is hurt. There’s not much time. 

The strange sensation that Cody had tucked away at the back of his mind this morning rings out with alarm. It doesn’t feel like speculation, or a voice speaking from anxiety and fear - it feels like concrete, unmistakable fact. 

Not much time? Cody thinks desperately in return, trying his best to communicate with the feeling. It doesn’t respond.

Oh, Stars, no.

For a long few seconds, all he can do is just stare at Waxer, dazed and disoriented as he tries to find his voice again.

“The–” his throat sticks. He tries again. “The General is– injured.” Cody stammers, his voice coming out weak. 

His stomach churns with a sense of dread that won’t subside, and he momentarily forgets how to breathe. He catches himself reaching for his comm-link instinctively, before he remembers that there is absolutely no way he can get a message to his General right now, or in the immediate future, not with the tower damaged. Damn it all. “Where did he and his squad go when they split?”

Waxer shifts in surprise. “What? None of us can reach him sir, how did you–?”

Finally, Cody’s training kicks in and he manages to wrangle some sense of control from the haze. Some strange divine force is connecting him to his Jedi, and if it’s telling him the truth, then it might be enough to save Obi-Wan’s life. His prime directive above all else is to keep his Jedi safe, and he will move the stars themselves to do so if he has to. The feeling is disorienting and his fear is mounting, but he can cope with that. He has to act.

His gaze snaps back to Waxer, grasping his brother’s shoulder firmly. “Tell me where he went, Lieutenant,” he commands, hearing his words coming out much stronger than before, to his relief. “That’s an order.”

Waxer straightens up. “The north ridge, Commander, right by the chasm. But I don’t know if he took the road up to the cliff, or–”

No. He took the path to the ravine. He’s still there.

Cody’s mind is suddenly, sickeningly overtaken by images of his General laying face down in a stream, his blood seeping out into the water around him. Was it the presence in his head showing him that, or was it just the result of his own terror? Gods help him, he can’t tell.

“Understood,” Cody says, beginning to stride away.

He feels his stomach twist - he’s actually believing everything this damn voice is telling him. If it turns out that some parasite or Separatist chip has infected him, he might be walking right into a trap… but Cody knows that he can’t afford to take that risk. Not when so much might be at stake.

He begins to run, barking orders over his shoulder. “I have flares. Prepare a med-evac to sweep over the ravine if I don’t signal in the next thirty minutes. Until then, the team at the south field needs backup - I’m counting on you, Lieutenant!” 

The run turns into a sprint, spurred on by the alarm bells inside him screaming at him to move, move, move.

“Sir–!” Waxer calls after him. “The weather– there might be a flood incoming, are you sure you want to–?”

The Commander pays the warning no mind. A sudden flood in the ravine might well be both possible and deadly, but as long as there’s a chance that Obi-Wan’s down there, his job is to drag him out before then. He can’t afford to waste a second.

If you’re lying, I’ll make you regret it, he thinks pointedly to the voice in his head, on the off chance that this is some malicious, external force peering into his mind. Once again, Cody’s attempts at communication go unacknowledged. He’s strangely glad of it - at this point, he’s fairly sure that having it respond would make him feel worse. The threat serves to make him feel marginally better, at least.

As the path down to the ravine comes into view, Cody feels his chest tighten, sending a silent prayer out to any god that will listen that he makes it on time.

Just hang on. I’m coming.

_____________________________

The ground beneath Cody’s feet changes from mud, to pebbles, to the splash of shallow water as he makes it to the base of the chasm.

Please be nearby, Cody thinks desperately as he searches, the strange sensation in his head giving way to an intuition about the directions he needs to take. He doesn’t like the feeling of trusting it blindly, but he doesn’t have much choice. Please be alive.

Further in, it whispers to him, faster.

Cody doesn’t think he’s ever run so fast in his life, but he spurs himself on even so.

The water is fast-flowing but still mercifully shallow, though Cody doesn’t want to imagine just how quickly that could change with the threatening rainclouds that have started to gather overhead. Waxer might have been right in his warning, but it’s far too late for worrying about that now.

He skids down a small slope, taking himself ever lower into the winding chasm. His heart pounds wildly against his ribs as he spots a body near the bend ahead, a flash of gold and white armour, unmoving. The sound of blaster fire has been steadily getting closer with each footstep.

Fuck.

Sprinting around the curve in the rock, Cody’s worst fear is confirmed.

Ahead of him, the ravine widens, the cliffs on either side rising imposingly, impassive observers to the carnage happening within. 

The group of his brothers that had splintered from Alpha team are dead. Their bodies are scattered, cast aside as they wait for the rain to wash their corpses into the lake downstream.

A collection of droids and a group of people - mercenaries? - clad in dark gear are engaged in a shootout with one another within the canyon. This would ordinarily be enough to stop Cody in his tracks - they hadn’t been informed of another faction’s presence here, and he doesn’t know where their allegiances lie - but right now, he doesn’t have the time to try and work out what’s happening or why. 

Instead, his gaze is glued to the body being dragged further through the chasm by the hands of one of the mercenaries - the body clad in a thick brown cloak that’s enveloping lighter, fawn coloured robes; the body that’s currently slowly bleeding out from a gash in its side; the body of the man he loves.  

Cody doesn’t stop to observe further.

He’s - recklessly, certainly, but he can’t just sit and just wait - storming out into the open in seconds, beelining straight for the man pulling Obi-Wan along behind him like some prized prey from a hunt. 

His blaster is raised, and they’re not expecting him - one clean shot to the back of the head is all it takes. 

A snarl rips itself from Cody’s throat as the mercenary tumbles forwards to the ground, dropping Obi-Wan’s body unceremoniously into the shallow stream - by some mercy landing on his back, and not face down into the water. 

The attention of the surrounding hostiles are all now very decidedly on Cody as he continues to sprint ahead.

It’s an open space with no cover, and Obi-Wan’s body is in the centre of it all. He can’t exactly fight back with his blaster, so he does the only thing he can reasonably think of to do in the time allotted to him. 

Reaching his Jedi’s side, he swiftly reaches down to unclip the lightsaber that - miraculously - had remained at his belt throughout whatever fight he’d faced earlier. 

Cody presses his thumb firmly into the activator as he plants his feet over the body of his fallen General, sparing only a quick glance downwards to the pallid face of the Jedi beneath him. He doesn’t have the time to check his pulse or breathing now, not while they’re surrounded by enemies. Please, please be alive. 

The hum of the saber and the gentle vibration that buzzes through the hilt is a steadying force as blaster bolts continue to fly around him in all directions. He’d love to have the luxury of stopping to ask questions, but it doesn’t seem as if he’s going to get the chance before he or everyone else here lies dead.

One afternoon, long ago, Obi-Wan had shown him the basics of Soresu - Cody hopes that he remembers enough to make it through this.

His addition to the fray certainly seems to have confused both factions. The droids enter into a panic, shooting at anything that moves, including their own numbers. Most of the mercenaries stand their ground, though a handful decide that it would be in their better interest to abandon their quarry (and presumably, their paycheck) and retreat further into the ravine. 

They wanted to take Obi-Wan’s body. Why?

Cody stays above the Jedi, pivoting on the spot to parry incoming bolts back to their senders. Without the use of the Force to aid him in intuiting where the shots are coming from, he can only try his best amidst the chaos. Every shower of sparks or yelp of pain from a returned bolt that connects is a victory, buying himself a few more precious seconds before the next projectile comes his way.

Cody can barely find the ability to think, let alone to form a cohesive plan. All of his thoughts are concentrated on surviving second to second until he can safely reach the flare gun at his hip.

He brings down the lightsaber in an arc to slice through the shoulder of a mercenary that had unwisely decided to chance running his way, before twisting around his body to block an incoming bolt from the right. His joints aren’t loose enough for this type of thing, he thinks with a grimace. It suddenly makes sense to him why Obi-Wan insists on warming up each day with dancer-like stretches and movements before he trains - all of these acrobatics are hell on the hips.

Keeping the saber in front of him swinging rapidly, Cody does his best to estimate a count of the enemies that remain. The two groups around him are carving through one another at such a rate that hopefully this won’t last too much longer. 

A splash of water drips from the visor of his helmet, followed by another, then another. If Cody’s body could tense further, it would.

The drizzle of rain would be welcomingly cooling if it weren’t for the threat the worsening weather represents. He’s all too aware that all of his efforts would be for nothing if they both drown down here.

Centering himself as best as he can, Cody remains steadfast. Fighting so desperately as the heavens open above him - a part of him is reminded of Kamino, of his training. The headspace is a welcome one to slip into, and he allows himself to draw focus from it. This is no different to then, he tells himself. I survived every day back then, I’ll survive now.

A volley of shots come his way, and he spins the lightsaber around himself in an approximation of a move he’s seen from Obi-Wan in the past to deflect them. It proves mostly effective, but one bolt nearly finds its mark, tearing a scorch mark through his right pauldron. 

The shootout intensifies for a few unsettling seconds, and then, to Cody’s unease, all falls unnaturally still. 

He doesn’t waste the opportunity, surging forwards in a hope to cut down the last of the droids, but before he can reach it, it crumples in on itself, crushed by… nothing. Before Cody has time to react, the last two mercenaries fall to their knees, their faces turned to the cliffs above, one uttering a hoarse cry of the word “Master!” 

There’s a chuckle from somewhere high above him, and Cody tears his eyes from the men, risking the glance upwards. 

Something is very, very wrong.

A cloaked figure stands on an outcropping, watching him as a wild predator watches its prey. 

Cody grits his teeth, raising the lightsaber a little higher.

“So, Kenobi has found himself a little pet, has he?” the figure calls down to him, sounding sickeningly amused. Their head turns toward the mercenaries. “You… have failed me. Run, and be grateful for your lives.”

His voice, gravelly and low, echoes through the ravine, and Cody becomes incredibly aware as the mercenaries scramble to escape that it is now only him, the Jedi on the ground, and this stranger. Alone for miles in any direction.

The figure - a man, by the sounds of his voice - leaps down into the ravine proper. It’s a drop that would kill anyone else, or at the very least break some bones - this person, however, lands with a feline-like grace. 

He must be a Force user then, Cody concludes, his eyes never leaving the threat and his feet remaining rooted to the ground over the Jedi. 

It is, unquestionably, his duty to keep his General safe. If Obi-Wan lives, then Cody will drag him out of here or die trying, but if – the thought almost causes his heart to rip apart here and now - if Obi-Wan is dead, then he will protect his body to the last. No one else will touch him, not while Cody still draws breath.

“Come now, clone,” the stranger rasps. He sounds winded - potentially injured from an earlier fight, Cody notes. He’ll take any advantage he can get, right now. The man lifts his hood to reveal himself as a Zabrak, distinctive red and black markings carving up the sections of his face into sharp, jagged portions. A striking visage - Cody’s never seen anything like it. “Surely you don’t wish to throw away your life to protect a dead man’s honour. Hand him over.”

Cody focuses on the weight of the saber’s hilt in his hand, taking a deep breath and easing his white-knuckle grip as much as he can. Obi-Wan had told him once that you need to treat a lightsaber like a dancing partner, not like a tool. 

Work with it, and trust that it will work with you, he hears his words echo in his mind. It shouldn’t be swung like you would a simple club, or an axe.

He is tense, alert, but in this moment, he is not scared. He is Commander Cody of the 212th Battalion. He has never faltered in the face of death, and he faces it down with the same steadiness now, dogged and unflinching. If this man truly is a Force user - a Sith - then let the stories of this final stand be sung by his brothers into eternity.

Cody holds the Zabrak’s unblinking gaze. “If you want him,” he says, trying to channel that effortlessly calm, firm tone that his Jedi flaunts in the worst of situations, “then I’m afraid you’ll have to go through me.”

The Sith’s lip curls up in a cruel sneer, all pretense of composure discarded in an instant. “Your blind loyalty to the one who holds your leash is touching,” he spits, venomously. “But in the end, it won’t save either of you.” 

He reaches into his cloak, drawing his own lightsaber and activating it, crimson red and double-bladed.

Cody’s eyes widen in horror and recognition, a cold shiver creeping up his spine. That blade… he knows exactly who this is.

With the knowledge of his name comes the knowledge that his chances of seeing tomorrow are slim, but Cody feels his resolve only grow in the face of it. Knowing that this is the bastard who has made it his mission to hound and torture Obi-Wan over the course of his life, he’s even more determined to keep him away from his Jedi at all costs.

“Maul,” Cody states, his voice low. The Sith begins to stalk around Cody in a slow circle, a viper waiting to strike. Cody leans a little further back on his left foot as he turns in place to meet him, the lesson on Soresu lingering at the back of his mind.

Maul smiles at Cody’s recognition. “It’s so nice to hear that he still talks of me, even after all this time.”

All hell breaks loose.

Cody narrowly avoids being struck as Maul launches forwards with an unnatural speed. He brings up Obi-Wan’s lightsaber to block at the last second, the force of the clash reverberating through his arm, up into his shoulder with a stinging pain.

Relax the muscles, he remembers Obi-Wan telling him as he corrected his form, fighting while tense will only harm you.

As the Zabrak darts over to the other side of him, Cody acts, striking him with the back of the lightsaber hilt. He leaps backwards in a desperate attempt to gain a few seconds of freedom, using them to pull out the flare gun and fire into the air. 

Maul snarls, pressing the attack once more. Cody throws the gun to the side, redoubling his efforts on blocking and redirecting hits. If Waxer saw the flare go up - and Force, he hopes he did - all he needs to do is survive for a few more minutes.

… A few more minutes against the man that killed Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn in less than five when fighting one on one. A bead of sweat trickles down Cody’s temple.

Easy.

He grunts as Maul lands a kick to his abdomen, stumbling back a few steps but being sure to maintain his grip on the lightsaber. Being disarmed here would be a remarkably quick way to die. 

They trade blows back and forth, Cody focusing on the defensive, Maul pushing in every chance he gets. It’s an exhausting effort, and he’s sure his panting is audible through his helmet, but he’s still on his feet, scrapping for every inch he can take.

Commander Cody, as he has done in so many battles before today, holds the line.

Each second he stalls is another second won of analysis; learning how Maul moves, the speed at which he’s about to rush in and attack, the patterns he’s about to swing his saber in - and then Cody sees it.

His left side. 

He’s favouring his left side.

Each of his attacks are weighted, so his right arm must be damaged. If Cody can exploit that–

He grunts as he wards off a particularly strong slash to his side.

– then he might stand a chance of survival.

Cody draws back, loath to move too far from Obi-Wan’s unconscious form, but knowing that he has to risk it in order to press this advantage. Shielding, he reminds himself. He has to shield, or else Maul will be able to anticipate what he’s about to do.

The Sith smirks, his expression near manic in his relentless pursuit. “Scared, little clone?” he taunts, watching in clear sadistic amusement as Cody retreats a few more steps. 

Cody subtly adjusts his stance, as if he’s going to continue to block. He raises his chin in defiance, his eyes narrowing. It’s what Maul will expect to see.

“No.”

Maul smiles. “The tremor in your voice betrays you.”

Time seems to slow as the Zabrak charges, his blade raised overhead to strike.

Cody plants his feet, feigning a block before darting to the right at the very last second and bringing Obi-Wan’s blade down to catch the top of his shoulder.

It doesn’t go deep, but the damage is done. Maul hisses in pain, backing up rapidly as his right arm hangs limply by his side. Cody doesn’t dare let his guard down yet, repositioning himself in front of Obi-Wan.

Maul snarls, his eyes flashing with anger. “You dare–”

Just as he begins to speak, thunder rolls in the distance. The threat of a sudden flood looms heavily over the both of them on this impromptu battlefield, and Cody lets out a shuddering breath. It’s bad news, but all the same, it might be the best news possible for him.

He sees the moment the truth dawns on the Sith - by staying here, they’re both risking certain death by drowning - a ravine this narrow and deep would fill with water in seconds. Even if Maul wasted time killing Cody here - and he could, even when injured, no doubt - he couldn’t drag away Obi-Wan’s body as he had his lackeys trying to do earlier, not with his injured arm.

For whatever reason, his motive was to take the Jedi’s body along with him, and now there’s not enough time. 

Either all three of them die here and now, or Maul gets the chance to escape before their med-evac arrives.

Cody keeps the saber raised, even as the Sith takes another step back, evidently considering his options. His expression turns unnervingly blank as his eyes alight on Cody once more. There’s something more in his gaze now, something that wasn’t there before - recognition? Respect? 

“Clever boy,” he murmurs, dipping his head. He deactivates his lightsaber, holstering it at his side and clutching at his injured arm with a grimace. “You’ve forced my hand. Very well.”

Cody watches as Maul begins his retreat further into the canyon, the hand gripping Obi-Wan’s lightsaber beginning to tremble with the receding adrenaline. 

“The next time we meet, you will not have the privilege of hiding behind your owner’s weapon,” Maul snarls, his voice echoing through the canyon with that one last lingering threat before he disappears from view entirely. It’s true, Cody knows. He has a target on his back now, the size of a planet - and he’s sure it will be collected on.

For one long, long moment, the Commander simply stands, panting for breath, not quite sure if this is all a stress induced hallucination, or whether he actually survived the encounter. 

The rain, though still light, has been getting progressively worse. It collects at the base of his visor, creating small waterfalls that dance in the periphery of his vision. Briefly, Cody allows himself to close his eyes.

He’s pulled out of his dizzying sense of disbelief by the sound of a soft groan below him.

Alive. 

Cody’s eyes snap open.

A strangled gasp escapes him as he falls to his knees, pulling off his helmet and letting it clatter to the rocks below, scratches be damned, as he sees the Jedi’s breath stutter - not a sign he’s doing well, of course, but there is breath to be had.  

The sheer relief at seeing Obi-Wan alive, the lingering adrenaline from the duel and the sheer shock that his own heart’s still beating all combine to make a dizzying amalgam of uninhibited recklessness. 

He cradles Obi-Wan’s face in his hands, lowering his forehead to press to the other man’s. One of his hands slips to curl at the nape of his neck, and his heart pounds as Obi-Wan weakly reaches up to do the same.

If any of their men could see them now, sharing a keldabe kiss in the middle of the battlefield, they’d never hear the end of it. Cody is very aware that he should be reprimanding himself for this lapse in judgement, should be pulling away to a respectful distance, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

He’s still breathing heavily, and he’s fairly sure that holding Obi-Wan this close means they’re both bleeding onto one another. He doesn’t quite have it in him to care.

“I’ve got you, General,” he manages to choke out, his fingers curling tighter in the Jedi’s hair, afraid that he’ll disappear if he lets go for even a second.

Obi-Wan smiles - Stars, he’s so glad to see that smile - “Quite… the display there, Commander,” he rasps, his tongue darting out to wet his cracked and bloodied lips. Cody swallows. How long had the other man been out here before he arrived, fighting for his life? His free hand slips down to apply some pressure to the wound at his side, trying his best to stem the bleeding. 

Cody feels nauseous with the weight of his worry, and he knows Obi-Wan will be able to sense it. Still, he can’t quite bring himself to give voice to it, instead trying to smile. To his credit, he manages, even if it’s considerably watery. “Ah, I was… trying to impress you. Angling for a promotion, you know.” 

He draws back to raise his head as he hears the distinctive whirr of a LAAT/i approaching, and feels some of the tension drain from him. Not long now. He carefully shifts Obi-Wan, pulling him away from the stream and into his lap, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort the other man is so clearly in. Obi-Wan lets out a breath that sounds more like a wheeze than anything else.

“I believe… the only position you could be promoted to would be mine, Cody,” he comments. He sounds incredibly weary, and his eyes fall shut with the effort of his words.

“Never let it be said that my ambition is held back by common sense,” Cody jokes softly. He gently brushes a few strands of hair away from his Jedi’s face, his gloved fingers lingering at his temple. Obi-Wan’s brows are pinched together, clearly in terrible pain. Cody can almost see the way he’s slipping, losing his grip on his consciousness. 

“Hey. Stay with me,” he implores, his chest tight.

It’ll only be a minute or so at most before the medical evac will arrive, but Cody is incredibly aware that he can’t let the Jedi fall asleep before then. He racks his brain frantically for anything he can say to hold Obi-Wan’s attention, to give him any reason to keep talking.

“Shit,” Cody mutters under his breath, “Obi-Wan, you–”

“I’m trying,” the Jedi mumbles softly, and Cody’s plea dies on his lips. 

Instead, he just clings to him a little tighter. “... I know.”

For a moment there is silence, pierced only by the rushing of the stream beneath them and the uneven, laboured breaths of Obi-Wan. The Commander watches him, swallowing thickly before he speaks. Hopefully this will be enough.

“My name… it’s not actually Cody,” he says. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker open at that, hazy and bewildered, and Cody can’t stop a fondness from entering his expression, despite his concern. A temporary victory. Now to keep it going. “Thought that’d get your attention.”

“It’s not…?” 

Cody shrugs, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his General. The fingers at his temple have long since shifted to tenderly stroking through the wet strands of his hair.

“Well, it is now, I suppose. But it wasn’t initially.” 

Obi-Wan looks like he doesn’t have the strength to keep speaking, but there’s curiosity in his gaze. Cody blinks away the sudden stinging of tears that have gathered at the corners of his eyes. 

Just stay with me for a few more moments, please. You’re nearly there.

“Kamino,” he forces himself to say, even as the words come out hoarse. “During training. My brothers had decided to name me, after I....” 

Cody trails off, deciding that now is not the time to detail the abuses he had (quite stupidly) decided to take the brunt of to take some heat away from the rest of the Vode. Obi-Wan doesn’t need distressing further, today.

“... Well. Kote,” he continues. “They named me Kote. Except, over the years, most people misheard it, and… well, Cody was the one that stuck.” 

Obi-Wan blinks slowly, clearly at war with himself to keep himself conscious. Cody is unsure that the other man has even heard him, let alone taken in his words, but after a long pause, the Jedi gathers himself to speak again.

“‘Glory’,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

A tear escapes down Cody’s cheek as the evac ship finally comes into view above them, lowering into the chasm. Half dead and the man is focusing his energy on accurately translating a fairly archaic word in Mando’a. That’s his Obi-Wan.

“Yes,” he affirms, his tone hushed. “That’s right.”

The Jedi smiles, finally losing his internal battle as his eyelids flutter closed once more. “You wear it well.”

Sudden shouts erupt from behind them as the LAAT/i lands and the medics start to rush their way over to them.

Cody sucks in a shuddering breath. Obi-Wan will make it. He will.

He reaches for his discarded helmet, slipping it back onto his head. With a grunt of effort, Cody lifts the Jedi up into his arms, turning towards the ship. 

“I’ve got him,” he insists to the already-fussing medic as they approach. They reach out to try and take Obi-Wan from him, but Cody adjusts to hold the Jedi tighter, slipping past them.

“I’ve got him,” Cody repeats, his tone probably harsher than it needs to be. He’ll apologise for it later, but for the moment he’s just relieved that they back off.

No one else tries to bother him as he takes a seat on the gunship, holding Obi-Wan securely across his lap. Bacta first, then rest, he thinks wearily.

Somehow, though, he doubts he’ll get much rest in the near future. The weight of the other man in his lap is a reminder of everything he has to lose, and Cody knows himself well enough to be sure that he won’t be doing much more than pacing until his General is conscious and back with him. 

A matter of hours, if he’s lucky. Days, if he’s not.

A deep sigh escapes him as the ship takes off and someone comes over with a scanner to check their vitals.

At least he’s alive. At least they’re both alive, somehow. Cody’s still not entirely sure how he managed it, but he’s incredibly grateful.

He thinks of the squad that will be still on the ground, fighting to take out the last of the Separatist forces. He has confidence enough in Waxer to know that they’ll be doing fine on their own, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel uneasy at being pulled out of the fight like this. 

Outside, the rain worsens, battering against the side of the ship as it continues to ascend. Cody glances down, taking in the states of the ravine he was fighting for his life in mere moments before. The water is filling up in there rapidly, the speed of it already something terrifying to behold.

Cody really, really hopes that Maul didn’t make it.

He knows that he probably did.

_____________________________

Back on the Venator, Cody stands in only his underclothes, a handful of bacta patches plastered over his arms and his back as he stares absently at the bacta tank in front of him. His Jedi floats inside, having been immersed practically upon arrival, his eyes closed and his expression oddly peaceful, given the circumstances.

The lance in his side will likely be a permanent one, but better a scar than a cause of death. 

Helix had left the two of them alone ten minutes ago, charging Cody with calling him if Obi-Wan’s condition suddenly changes, though Cody suspects that the request was only made to keep him inside the medbay and not disappearing off to his room to treat his pain alone, as he has in the past. Even knowing that, it’s working. 

Cody doesn’t want to leave Obi-Wan’s side, not yet.

He begins to pace slowly, his exhausted mind overflowing with everything he needs to tell the Jedi of when he wakes. The mission status, Maul, and… 

Cody pauses in his steps briefly, pinching his brow. And whatever is going on inside his head.  

Whatever the meaning of the feeling, Cody has at least worked out one thing: it seems to be wholly and inextricably tied to Obi-Wan. It lies dormant now, having retreated into the back of his mind at the same time that the Jedi had lost consciousness, but it’s unmistakably still present. Steady, warm - not unlike Obi-Wan himself, he supposes.

It was telling him the truth. That’s the main thing he can’t quite wrap his head around, and in the past hour or so, he’s done nothing but try.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispers aloud to no one in particular. He’s not generally one for angst, nor for lamenting over situations in which he has no control. Something about all of this, though - it feels significant, important for him to understand, though he doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t know a lot of things today, it seems.

Cody takes a seat on the edge of one of the medbay beds with a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

He’ll wait here, he decides, until duty calls him away, or until Obi-Wan wakes up - whichever comes first. The quiet yet incessant beeping of various medical equipment isn’t exactly conducive to his ideal working environments, but he’s completed paperwork in worse places.  

He types out a quick message on his datapad, a request for a mug of caf to be brought to him, along with a blanket. Cody hesitates, glancing over to where Obi-Wan is still healing, then adds an amendment. A double shot, he thinks, would be more sufficient.

Despite his exhaustion, it’s still only the early afternoon.

The Commander sighs again, opening up a few tabs worth of backlogged reports to start reading through.

It’s going to be a very long day.

next chapter here

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

[aspentreewrites]

Fellas is it gay to get your tits out in front of your general when the aircon on your spaceship breaks and its 40 degrees celsius and rising

[aspentreewrites]

THANK YOU AS ALWAYS!! 💚💚 and I guess we'll find out 👀👀

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

Chapter 5

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (for current arc) slow burn, general angst and pining, realising feelings, tending to wounds, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Link to read on AO3 here!

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.)

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A/N: I'm cooking up so much for the next few chapters, you aren't even ready :') thank you so much for all the kindness on chapter 4!!

Shout out to @whenyourfavouritedies (their AO3 here) for beta'ing as always!

Wordcount: 7.1k

Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

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Returning to their men after a few days away is, predictably, chaos. 

The second they enter the atmosphere, their comms light up with every notice they’d missed: dozens of fires that have been put out, but not quite how Cody would have done it; hundreds of meeting requests, mostly for inane matters that could have simply been an email; thousands of reports that have accrued in their absence…

It’s good to be home. 

By the time their ship docks, the sun is setting the Coruscant skyline ablaze. The skyscrapers stretch into eternity ahead of them, usually so indifferent and imposing, but Cody always finds them strangely comforting after he’s been away.

Cody doesn’t necessarily think that Fox was wrong in his drunken assessment when he had once called the city-planet a ‘shithole’, but there’s a fondness that’s crept up within him over the years. It’s his shithole, and the shithole is home. Unwelcoming, uncaring, cold, familiar home.

He blinks against the harsh light of the sunset, trying to resist the urge to rub his eyes. He can look as tired as he feels when he’s in the privacy of the barracks, but for the moment, he’s still on duty. He has far too much pride to allow his shoulders to slump in public, especially when at his General’s side.

The sleep on their return trip hadn’t done much to restore his energy - not that Cody suspected it would. By Obi-Wan’s estimate, the healing had done much of the work, but a full night’s rest would still be in order to make sure that he can be at his best for tomorrow. Cody, for once, hadn’t been able to find the strength to argue.

“Well,” the Jedi says as he disembarks from the ship, squinting as he looks out to the horizon. The Temple stands proud amidst its surroundings, its brutalist silhouette dwarfing the spires that neighbour it. “I should deliver my report to the Council before it gets too late. They wish to see me in person, it seems.”

Cody nods, even as the quiet guilt of leaving his General to handle all of the post-mission work alone nags at the back of his mind. He’s all too aware of how much there will be to do - more than enough for an all-nighter, if attempted alone.

He starts slightly as Obi-Wan reaches out a hand to gently squeeze his shoulder. “Your concern is unnecessary, but noted,” the Jedi comments lightly. “I’ll have to make note of the fact that you’re much worse at stoicism when you’re recovering from a concussion.” The faintest smile tugs at his lips under his beard.

Cody belatedly realises that his worry must have made its way onto his face, rather than strictly staying internal as he'd intended. In fact, it seems like he's been frowning rather intently for the past minute or so. He’s quick to rectify his expression to something closer to neutrality.

“Please try and forget that you know that,” he says dryly, watching as a speeder docks nearby. It’s sleek and shiny, all glossy black paint with a white stripe along the side. It probably costs more than Cody makes in a whole year… he shakes his head, trying not to linger on that particular train of thought. He turns his eyes back to his General. “It wouldn’t be ideal if you were tempted to hit me over the head whenever you wanted to know how I was feeling.”

Obi-Wan grins. “You’re no fun, Commander.”

Cody snorts. “I never have been, sir.” 

Looking over at his Jedi in lighting like this is a lethal thing. His skin had been slightly kissed by the sun during their stay on the resort, giving him a gentle glow that feels all-around unfair to be forced to look upon. The orange hues of the light bring out the blue in his eyes just so, and Cody imagines that this whole war business would have been a lot easier had he been given a General that looked just slightly less like the protagonist of a romance holo.

Obi-Wan squeezes his shoulder one more time before stepping back and bidding his leave, the two parting ways for the moment. As he makes his way back to the barracks, Cody’s mind is awash with a soft sense of longing, battling with an undeniable relief to be home. 

No more pretending to be Obi-Wan’s husband, at least - that particularly cruel decision by the fates has come to an end. Despite it all, Cody thinks quietly that a small, entirely unprofessional part of him will miss the opportunity to be so close to the Jedi.

His musings are interrupted when he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window of a nearby building. The strange war taking place in his head is decided - relief wins out in its entirety.

He’s finally allowed to shave again - thank the Stars.

_____________________________

As the doors of the Council Chambers close behind him, Obi-Wan finally - finally - allows himself to relax a little. 

He sweeps through the hallways of home, the sense of peace that always pervades the Jedi Temple permeating through his very being, calming his mind from the storm that threatens to overtake it. 

The mission had, upon reflection, been a resounding success. They’d identified their target quickly, and had not only retrieved the package for study, but also started to uncover the identity of a traitor within the Senate as well. 

And yet he can’t quite shake the feeling of guilt that haunts his thoughts, settling over him like an old, familiar blanket around his shoulders. 

Cody.

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, unconsciously mussing up the short strands. He’s sure he looks a mess, but he can’t find it in himself to care. A weary sigh escapes him.

It’s not even about the concussion, really, though he still feels sheepish about not sensing the rock when he had tackled him. The truth is, Obi-Wan has been feeling ashamed of himself ever since the… events of that second evening undercover. Just the memory alone is enough to make him grimace. What was he thinking? He should never, ever have–

His train of thought is swiftly interrupted by the emergence of Anakin from the chambers behind him, the young man setting a course straight in his direction. 

Obi-Wan takes a brief break from his self reproach, sending a gentle nudge through the Force to his former apprentice. Anakin returns it, though the glint of mischief in his eyes is absolutely not lost on Obi-Wan. He’s sure he should be worried - he feels his expression beginning to sour already. 

“Interesting choice for cover,” is the greeting his friend chooses, called rather loudly down the corridor as he jogs over to catch up. Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, is it?

Obi-Wan just walks faster.

“Good evening to you as well, Anakin,” he mutters, his words short and clipped. Anakin falls into step beside him, matching his hurried pace with ease. He gives Obi-Wan a smile that feels nauseatingly knowing.

“How’s Cody?” he asks, drawing out the syllables of the Commander’s name in a show of juvenile insinuation. A muscle in Obi-Wan’s jaw ticks - he’s taught him to be above this type of thing, surely, though it’s hardly a surprise at this point that his painstaking lessons in decorum over the years have been ignored.

“I don’t know what it is you’re implying, Anakin, but I’d advise you to stop, lest that objectionable smirk be seared on your face forever.”

His biting words do not, to Obi-Wan’s dismay, deter his former Padawan. If anything, they seem to spur him on.

“Touched a nerve, did I?” 

Obi-Wan casts the boy a sidelong glance, narrowing his eyes. Anakin’s appearance has changed subtly since Obi-Wan last saw him - before he and Cody went away, Anakin had been on a mission of his own for a number of weeks.

He needs a haircut.

“You need a haircut.”

Anakin snorts, pushing back the longer-than-usual locks from his face. “You’re deflecting,” he counters easily, all-too amused. 

Obi-Wan lets out an indignant huff, calling on the Force to bring him some calm. His own former apprentice, speaking to him like he’s the child here.

“I’m not dignifying such an accusation with a response,” he finds himself snapping before he has the time to temper his reaction. 

Obi-Wan is being petulant. He knows he’s being petulant, but Anakin just seems to draw the childish behaviour out of him like no one else can. 

Somehow not sensing that he’s treading on thin ice, or more likely, being entirely aware that he is and yet ploughing on anyway, Anakin continues. “Really, Obi-Wan, something has to be up. The last time I was able to wind you up like this was on The Coronet with Duchess–”

Obi-Wan takes a sharp right, ducking into his quarters in the vain hope that he can escape this conversation. He had been intending to make his way calmly down to the barracks to begin his work as soon as possible, but he’s willing to suffer in the indignity of temporarily hiding away like a youngling if it means shooing Anakin away.

“You’re drawing connections where there are none,” he retorts, his tone harsh, even to his own ears. He can only pray he doesn’t look as flustered as he feels, otherwise he knows he’ll never hear the end of it. “Now goodnight, Anakin. We will speak again in the morning, and I shall hear no more of this business from you.”

Anakin looks like the loth-cat that got the cream as he leans against the doorway, expression unerringly, irritatingly smug.

“Sure thing, Master,” he returns, not even bothering to try and conceal the lie through the Force. 

Obi-Wan, in a demonstration of his galaxy-renowned prowess at self control, slams his hand on the door controls not quite as hard as he could have done, shutting Anakin out for the moment. 

He hears the boy snort in amusement from the other side and can’t help but let out a soft curse from under his breath. That perplexing, arrogant, utterly irritating boy.

A faint sense of relief fills him as he senses Anakin’s Force signature grow gradually more and more distant, finally leaving him be.

In the darkness of his room, Obi-Wan takes a few deep breaths, the frustration melting away to something that sits considerably heavier on his heart.

Is he truly so obvious?

Obi-Wan, as a rule, prides himself on his stoicism, his ability to play his cards close to his chest. It’s even part of what earned him his reputation as the ‘Negotiator’, as much as the boastful title makes him cringe.

Only three people have ever been able to see through him at such a consistent rate that he would consider it unnerving. 

The first, Qui-Gon, was understandable. The Master had taken him on as a reckless youngling, and he had practically raised him for a decade. It stands to reason that he knew him as well as a father would a son.

And then Anakin, for better or worse, has always been able to read him like an open book, while still wilfully misinterpreting his intentions at every turn. It’s… infuriating, but the connection always made sense - the bond between a Master and Padawan is incredibly powerful, and despite their differences, he loves his former apprentice dearly.

Cody… Cody had come as much more of a surprise. 

It had started during meetings, once their partnership had given way to a closer kind of friendship: subtle expressions exchanged when they were otherwise unable to talk freely, minute acknowledgements of how a diplomatic council was progressing. A single look shared at the right moment quickly became an invaluable tool to aid them both in deciding how and when to proceed in a tense negotiation.

This, inevitably, had progressed into the development of inconspicuous hand signals, entirely unique to them. This was something already in use amongst the GAR, of course, but the two of them had found the existing signs woefully inadequate for their needs, and quickly set about to invent more.

And then, somehow, this non-verbal communication and reading of one another had settled into their everyday lives like it was always a part of them - cups of caf being pressed into Obi-Wan’s hand before he’d even realised he was tired, the two having an uncanny ability to finish each other’s thoughts and sentences during their more informal conversations late at night.

Nowhere has this become more prevalent to Obi-Wan than in the trust he has built that Cody can innately interpret his intentions and movements in the field as well as any Jedi can, somehow all without the use of the Force.

He had, briefly, pondered whether Cody was Force sensitive, but his midichlorian count had been within the normal range, though admittedly on the higher end, when he convinced the other man to let him take a little blood to perform a test. 

(It had amused him at the time to see that the Commander seemed rather relieved to find out this news. “It would have been another thing to have to worry about,” Cody had told him with a grin, “and I have quite a lot on my plate as it is.”)

The connection between them is all, to put a word to it that causes the Jedi to flush in shame, rather intimate.

Obi-Wan is certain that Cody doesn’t know how he feels about him - at least, he hopes.

He has invested far too much of himself in hiding his reactions as the months have passed - tempering the way his gaze and presence constantly gravitates towards Cody when he’s near, having to school his expressions every time he notices himself softening just a little too much - and as the war continues to wear him down, he knows his ability to keep up the charade is cracking.

… Enough so that Anakin has noticed, evidently.

He closes his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples in a vain attempt to prevent a headache from forming. This would all be very well and fine if not for… he feels his jaw tighten -

That damn kiss.

Obi-Wan had other options at the time, surely - he must have done. So why couldn’t he think of any? Cody couldn’t have said no, not with the stakes as high as they were, and the thought that he might have taken advantage of his Commander’s trust crushes him.

And worse than that - much worse, to Obi-Wan’s mind - the thing that he’s lamenting the most here is that he can never un-know - can never erase the memory of what it felt like to have Cody’s lips move against his, can never forget the taste of the man he can never have in his arms again. 

He is, simply put, going to be haunted by the complete knowledge of what he must deny himself for the rest of his days.

His insides roil with shame. How selfish can he be that he’s been more preoccupied with that than the way he undermined Cody’s autonomy?

Sighing, Obi-Wan supposes that he’s spent more than enough time standing in a room with no lights on, behaving more like some angsty teenager with little better to do other than act like a lovesick puppy than a Jedi Master with several incredibly pressing matters to attend to.

His hand hovers near the door controls, not quite activating them yet as he gathers himself back together.

He can make it up to Cody. He will.

Obi-Wan draws on the Force, allowing it to settle his mind as much as he is able. Determination etches itself upon his features as he steps out once more into the hallways of the Temple.

Time to get back to work.

_____________________________

Cody’s fingers curl around the small bottle of painkillers he’s been administered, murmuring a word of thanks over his shoulder as he exits the medbay. As soon as he’s out of sight, he stuffs it into his pocket. Helix means well, but he knows he’ll be fine without them.

He hates feeling compromised, less aware than he usually would be (unless it’s at 79’s after a successful or particularly harrowing campaign, but being drunk always feels different being on painkillers - more in his control, somehow).

Besides, he’s had worse than this - far worse in fact, especially after the healing earlier. All he has to do is push through the pain enough to fall into his bed, and then he can sleep it off. 

Easy.

The door to his quarters slides open smoothly ahead of him. Cody’s so tired at this point that he very nearly doesn’t notice the Jedi’s presence at all, until he’s already halfway across the room.

When he does, all he can eloquently muster to say is: “... Oh.”

Obi-Wan is sitting at Cody’s desk, a stack of datapads left on the surface behind him. A few pieces of Cody’s armour lay in his lap, and he’s currently occupied with rubbing a cloth in small, circular motions over the surface of his helmet with a firm yet precise hand. He glances up at Cody’s inelegant noise, offering a warm smile.

“I hope you don’t mind me commandeering your space like this,” he greets softly.

Cody’s eyes are glued to his armour. Being cared for. In Obi-Wan’s lap. The neurons in his brain are firing in an array of different directions, but not one of them seems to be interested in forming a single coherent thought.

“That’s… quite alright,” he somehow manages to respond, the words feeling a little strangled in his throat.

He had given Obi-Wan his express permission to handle it, before.

Early one morning during a campaign out in the field, he’d managed to misplace his bracers in their tent. The Jedi had instinctively picked them up bare handed to pass them over when he found them, and had recoiled in genuine horror when he realised the implications of what he’d just done. 

(“I am highly aware,” he had said, glancing guiltily at Cody a minute or so after, once the flush had finally disappeared from his face, “that touching a Mandalorian’s armour without their consent is a grave insult. I can’t apologise enough, Commander. I didn’t think.” 

Cody turned, pausing in the midst of fiddling with the straps of his chestpiece.

“We’re…” he had started, not wanting to make Obi-Wan feel awkward. He searched for the right thing to say that didn’t sound too dismissive. “... Not entirely Mandalorian,” was what he eventually settled on. An evasion, perhaps, but he didn’t really know what else to say. 

“No, but you and the Vode share aspects of their beliefs all the same. I should have checked.”

They had lapsed into silence after that, donning their armour in tandem as they had on so many mornings of the war before then. Cody had taken the moment of quiet to mull over the thought a little. 

It was correct to say that, similar to that of the Mandalorians, a clone’s armour was generally a… personal affair, only ever really handled by themselves and the brothers they were close to, or a partner if they were that lucky.

But the truth of the matter was, Cody hadn’t even thought twice about the Jedi handing the bracers over - it didn’t feel particularly like a faux-pas, and certainly not like a violation of any kind. At the time, he hadn't been entirely certain as to why that was.

“It… is true that it’s a matter of trust,” Cody had slowly begun, and Obi-Wan winced.

“Of course,” he hastily interrupted, his tone one of self-admonishment. “Which is why I’m incredibly sorry I–”

“But I trust you, General,” he added quickly, before the Jedi could apologise again. “I’m fine with you touching my armour, if you ever have the need.”

It was a simple statement, very easily made given all they’d gone through together, but it seemed to take Obi-Wan by surprise all the same. Another flush had coloured the Jedi’s cheeks then, though it looked to be a rather pleased one this time.

“Ah,” he had murmured, looking for all the world like he didn’t quite know what to say. Cody had found it strangely endearing - what a state to reduce the famous ‘negotiator’ to. “Well, I… am honoured, Cody. Thank you.”)

That being said, there is a marked difference between Obi-Wan holding his armour for just a few seconds at a time to hand over or to admire, and… polishing it.

Not that Cody minds. Not that he minds at all. He takes great care to try and shield the way his heart suddenly feels like a drum pounding against his ribs, and offers a shaky smile.

“I thought you would be drowning in reports by now.”

Obi-Wan continues to work on the helmet as Cody realises that he shouldn’t just stand there, gawping in the middle of his room like an idiot. He sits down on the edge of his bed, trying not to give into the temptation to overthink every action he takes in an attempt to look ‘normal’.

His palms feel slightly sweaty as he watches his Jedi expertly apply the polish to the plastoid surface - just as Cody himself would do it. He must have been taking notes.

He doesn’t know the significance, Cody tries to remember, mentally chastising himself for getting so carried away. He’s just being kind. He knows that I would usually do this first thing after a mission, and he doesn’t want me to neglect something so important, just because I’m ill.

“I wanted to check in on you first. What was Helix’s verdict?”

Cody, despite the unexpected distraction sending his system into overdrive, isn’t quite able to stifle a yawn. Stars, he’s tired.

“That I’ll be fine with a little rest,” he answers truthfully. He’s perhaps being deliberately vague about the exact amount of rest that had been prescribed for him, but that’s neither here nor there. “There was a small blip on the brain scans, but he couldn’t seem to figure out the origin. I passed all the cognitive tests, so he’s not particularly concerned.”

Obi-Wan frowns when he hears that, but nonetheless nods slowly. “As long as he’s keeping an eye on you.”

“Rapid healing,” Cody reminds him. “I’ll be fine.”

Obi-Wan hums, unconvinced. Neither of them can really talk when it comes to the other being too blasé about their health, though they always try.

They fall quiet for a moment as the Jedi’s attention returns once again to the work in his lap. Cody’s eyes track the hypnotic movement of his hands, caressing his armour like it means something to him.

Oh, those hands. Those clever hands that he’s watched be equally capable of both excruciating tenderness and exquisite violence. 

Stroking the hair of a frightened child or clenching into a fist to crush a battle droid from half a battlefield away; soothing a wild creature or wielding a lightsaber like an instrument of certain death.

Cody has seen those knuckles bloodied as many times from punches as from sewing up wounds… and now here they are, tending to the armour that, by some measures of Mandalorian belief, is tantamount to his soul.

He longs to press his lips to them.

“If it’s all the same to you…” Obi-Wan murmurs, startling Cody from his reverie. “I’d feel more at ease if I could work on the reports here while you rest. Just in case…” the Jedi trails off.

He worries far, far too much, Cody thinks, but he knows Obi-Wan feels guilty about being the one to ‘cause’ the injury in the first place. The Stars above know he’d be fretting just as much were their positions reversed.

He doesn’t really need a moment of consideration, but he pretends to take one anyway. He sleeps better than he ever does when Obi-Wan is on watch nearby, but to tell him so would be saying far too much.

“I don’t mind,” Cody says in an approximation of nonchalance, swinging his legs up onto his cot. Usually he wouldn’t sleep in his blacks unless he’s out in the field, but he’s not exactly about to strip off while Obi-Wan is in here. “I really am fine, but I know that saying that won’t change anything.”

Cody watches Obi-Wan try and suppress a grin as he settles down under the blanket, the Jedi neatly setting down the armour in a pile on the desk and starting on the stack of reports.

“My dear Commander,” Obi-Wan says, clearly attempting to sound woefully put out. “Are you accusing me of being stubborn?”

Cody matches his tone, rolling onto his side with a gasp of offence. “I would never.” 

He relishes in the quiet chuckle the joke earns him, tucking that smug sense of satisfaction away into the pocket of his heart that his Jedi has long since made a home in. He loves making him laugh.

Obi-Wan waves his hand in the direction of the entrance to the room, dimming the lights to something he can still work in but that will allow his compatriot to find sleep a little easier. Cody is, as ever, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

“Mm. Well, speaking of stubbornness, my staying here also has the benefit that I can keep an eye on you in the event that you try and wrestle these reports from me to complete yourself,” Obi-Wan returns lightly.

It was a hard won battle to get the Commander to agree to not work tonight, and truth be told, if Cody was feeling the slightest bit better he would be trying to cajole Obi-Wan into letting him help a little. The Jedi knows him well.

That said, Obi-Wan had made him promise. 

“When have I ever disobeyed orders?” Cody murmurs, allowing his eyes to slip closed. The darkness is a sweet relief, indeed.

He doesn’t need the Force to sense the incredulous way his General rolls his eyes. “Need I remind you of Halidren?” 

“Need I remind you that you have repeatedly stated that you admired my actions on Halidren?”

The Jedi is quiet for a few moments as he considers this, tapping away at the datapad in front of him.

“... That’s besides the point. The point was you suggesting that you’d never gone against orders,” he answers, a gentle mirth in his tone. 

Cody lets out a quiet huff of amusement. He’s far too tired for effectively trading words right now - he’s sure he’d have something substantial to counter with were he at full capacity. “Mm… I suppose you win,” he concedes, his voice a soft mumble as sleep begins to call to him. “Maybe you should keep an eye on me, then.”

“It shall be my sacred duty,” Obi-Wan vows, the smile in his voice evident. “Sleep now, Cody.”

It’s a fair request. Cody decides he should probably do as he’s asked. The quiet that falls over the room is punctuated only by the soft sounds of their breathing, the sound of typing, and the occasional unintelligible mutterings from the Jedi as he works. 

It’s not long before Cody succumbs to his exhaustion, the peace and safety he feels lulling him to his very needed slumber.

_____________________________

Dreams of Halidren visit Cody that night, the lingering memories of that day flitting through his sleeping mind.

He’s on the dusty ground, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been running, only that his legs ache terribly underneath him as they pound against what remains of the pavement underfoot. 

This wasn’t an ordered course of action, he didn’t have permission to split off from the main group. Or perhaps ‘not ordered’ is a little generous. If anything, he’s going directly against command - ‘no detours’ had been the fairly explicit order he’d been given.

He only hopes General Kenobi can forgive him, or he’s in for hell during the debrief later - or perhaps decommissioning, if his new General was inclined to the idea. It doesn’t seem likely from what he’s seen over the past few weeks, but Gods help him, Cody’s willing to risk it. 

Regardless, it’s a little too late for regrets now.

He skids through the mud, pulling himself to a stop amongst the debris in front of him. A series of small, attached suburban homes - or at least it was earlier today. The clankers have done no small amount of destruction to the village in the past week, and despite the battalion making progress in pushing them out, the number of civilians that have perished thus far are devastatingly high.

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s risking so much for this - or maybe it’s the lack of sleep he’s had since this campaign started. All Cody knows is that he doesn’t have much of a choice to back out of this sudden insanity, so he may as well commit.

“Come on, come on…” he mutters to himself, making his way through the ruins. He’d heard it earlier on the long range scanners, he knows he did - Waxer had, too. Maybe he’s too late. Maybe–

The plaintive wail of an infant nearby nearly makes his knees buckle with relief. He was fast enough. They’re still alive.

Cody beelines for the source of the sound, his gloved hands pulling desperately at the wreckage. Just under a collapsed awning, he catches a hint of movement, spying a shock of dust-smeared blue skin. 

With shaking hands, he reaches in to gently extract a tiny Pantoran baby from the debris of what would have once been its home. The small thing wriggles and fusses in his arms, clearly terrified. He removes his helmet to hopefully give the infant something to focus on, praying silently that they’ll be calmed by the sight of another person - the last thing he needs is their cries attracting droids to their location.

“Shh, now,” Cody murmurs as soothingly as he can, cradling them carefully to his chest as his heart pounds. They’re so heartbreakingly small, covered in dirt and dust. It’s a wonder they can breathe at all. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”  

Night has fallen by the time he returns to the camp, the little one finally having given into their exhaustion and now sleeping fitfully in his arms. 

It’s frankly a miracle that they made it back in one piece, given that Cody had had to stealth past an unexpected patrol of clankers while trying to keep his charge from wailing or fussing, but fortune had seen fit to smile upon them, it seems - a fact that Cody is immeasurably grateful for. Risking his life and position in the GAR by trying to save a single baby would be an action only made more idiotic by dying in the process.

The sight of the stoic Commander clutching the baby so protectively to his chest draws a few stares from his men as he moves through the camp, but he pays them no mind. He can answer all of their questions later, but for the moment, a sense of urgency fills him. 

He’s careful not to jostle the little one too much in his arms as he breaks into a light jog, heading over to the command tent. There’s not much point in delaying the matter - he knows he’s messed up fairly spectacularly, but he has enough pride to at least face his punishment head on.

Even at this time of night, Halidren is not particularly a dark planet. Their camp is lit up by a number of glowing insects, all fluttering around the soft lantern light that emanates from the tent at the centre. On previous nights, Cody might be moved to call such a sight ‘pretty’. Tonight, however, ‘ominous’ seems to fit the bill much more accurately.

Cody hesitates just briefly outside the entrance of the tent, overhearing voices within. 

“Be that as it may, Waxer,” the Jedi says, his voice as even and calm as ever, “I would rather like to hear the Commander’s explanation in his own words.”

“Sir, it really was my idea,” Waxer protests in turn. Cody sighs to himself. Of course the loyal fool is trying to take the fall for him. He squares his shoulders, pushing open the tent flap. “Cody didn’t–”

“I can speak for myself, thank you, Lieutenant,” Cody interrupts as he steps through. He meets his General’s gaze briefly, trying to discern just how much trouble he’s in from his expression alone. Kenobi remains as unreadably passive as ever. 

They’re… friendly, with one another, despite it still being early days. More than that, even - Cody had seen fit to give the General his name not long ago, after all - but he still can’t predict how he’s going to react to insubordination quite like this.

Waxer turns, visibly breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of his Commander and the infant currently resting against Cody’s chest, both unharmed. He never was very good at hiding his emotions. 

“You’re dismissed, Waxer,” Obi-Wan commands softly. The Lieutenant salutes and dips out of the tent, but not before giving Cody a small, supportive nod.

For a long, tense moment, the only sound that fills the tent is the soft breaths of the sleeping baby as they clutch at the edge of Cody’s chestplate.

“So,” the General starts, his eyes lingering on them as they wriggle in their sleep. “This is who I have to thank for my Commander running off on his own, then?”

Cody shifts the little one in his arms protectively, holding Obi-Wan’s gaze. Nervousness claws at his chest, but he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t regret this decision, and there’s no point in pretending to be sheepish - he stands by his choice, unwaveringly. 

“I tried your comms, sir,” he says, steady yet quiet, so as not to wake the little one, “but they were inactive at the time. The droids were closing in on that quadrant. I had to make a call.”

“Absolutely you did, Commander,” the Jedi replies, folding his hands in front of him. “An incredibly reckless call at that. If you had died while out there, this entire campaign might have been compromised.”

He steps around the holotable in the centre of the tent, stopping just short of the Commander. Cody stands tall, despite the part of his mind that insists he shrink into himself.

“And,” Obi-Wan continues, “I’m sure you know that the GAR rulebook would command you to have stayed put. Orders from a CO should be absolute, regardless of how you feel about following them - unless you believe that to do so would be to commit treason.” 

He pauses briefly, before his expression breaks into a small, approving smile. “So let it be said, I am immensely grateful to have the head of my battalion know when to make his own calls.”

Cody blinks. 

No reprimand? Not even a slight slap on the wrist?

“... Sir?” he prompts, bewildered.

A soft whimpering sound comes from the Pantoran between them as they start to wake, and Obi-Wan closes his eyes, pressing his palm to the baby’s forehead. Cody watches as they near immediately fall back to sleep, soothed by whatever is being channeled to them through the Force. 

The small tent feels as if it’s become a factor more peaceful around the two of them, though whether that’s through an excess of soothing energies from Obi-Wan’s use of the Force filling the space or just the sheer relief he’s feeling, Cody isn’t sure.

“I cannot in good conscience fault you for a reckless decision that I myself would have made,” Obi-Wan murmurs softly, opening his eyes again. An amused smirk tugs at his lips. “Though let it be said that I may have had a few concerns, had you not properly informed your squad beforehand and delegated responsibility… but it seems that even in your rebellious moments, you remain one of the most organised people I know.”

Cody offers Obi-Wan a tentative smile, a sense of pride swelling up within him at the assessment. 

“I’m… glad you see it that way, sir,” he says, “I just… when we heard the crying over our scanners, I couldn’t…” he shakes his head as his gaze falls to the once again sleeping little one, carefully adjusting them in his arms. 

When Cody looks back up at Obi-Wan, he realises the Jedi has been watching him with an expression that borders on tender. He feels a flush prickle at his neck, noticing just how close they’re standing.

“Your empathy is a remarkable quality, Commander,” Obi-Wan murmurs sincerely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And the fact that you were willing to risk court martial for the life of an innocent speaks volumes to your character. I’m incredibly grateful to have been paired with you and the 212th.”

If Cody wasn’t flushing before, he is now. 

“Thank you, General,” he manages to say without stammering, “To speak freely, I’m… incredibly glad we’re aligned in this matter.”

The Jedi smiles, a warm and sincere thing, before he turns back to face the holotable and clears his throat quietly.

“We’ll bring the child back to the rest of the rescued civilians,” Obi-Wan says, his voice once more his usual tone of calm and command. “Their parents may not be around any longer, but I’m certain some family or neighbours will be.”

He turns his head, giving the Commander a small nod. His eyes betray the pride he feels in Cody’s actions, and Cody tries very, very hard to not let it go to his head. A little bit of it does, regardless. “Thank you very much, Cody. That will be all.” 

_____________________________

The lights are still out when Cody’s eyes flutter open, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Not quite morning, his internal clock tells him, but perhaps somewhat close to it.

He’s warmer than usual - likely the reason why he’s woken up at this hour, he suspects - and it slowly dawns on him that he’s still in his full under-armour gear. With a small groan, he pulls himself into a sitting position. He’s about to pull off his shirt when he hears a quiet sigh from a few paces away.

Startled, Cody’s head snaps around to the source of the noise, already reaching for the blaster under his pillow before he realises what - or, more accurately, who - is sharing his room tonight.

Obi-Wan is still at Cody’s desk, crumpled over with his cheek pressed to the surface. He must have fallen asleep some time ago. 

Cody exhales deeply, the panic of a potential threat fading slowly from his system. It’s definitely not the first time one of them has fallen asleep in the other’s room, he just hadn’t been expecting it this morning. 

It seems that Obi-Wan really had been serious about keeping an eye on him in case the concussion proved to be worse than they’d thought - Cody can’t help but smile a little at that. He might think it’s ridiculous and over-cautious, but it’s sweet that he cares.

He stills for a moment, watching the way that little curl of hair the Jedi usually keeps pushed back from his forehead flops over his face, stirring with each exhale of breath. It would be endearing if the position he’s in didn’t look so uncomfortable.

Checking the chrono at his wrist, Cody takes a moment to stretch his upper body, relieving the kinks in his back with a muffled grunt before slowly rising from the bed. 

It’s 05:30, decidedly late enough that he may as well get a head start on training, prep the meeting room before they officially start for the day - he knows he won’t get more sleep tonight, so trying feels fairly useless.

He doesn’t want to risk waking Obi-Wan, so he resolves to shower and shave in the communal bathrooms - the boys won’t mind, he’s sure. It’s become a personal rule of thumb to never interrupt the General when he’s out like this, given how he seems to struggle to rest more often than not. He deserves every extra minute he can eke out, Cody thinks fondly.

As he turns to leave, he glances back at the Jedi, the slightest of frowns passing over his features. He… can’t just leave him in such an awkward position, can he? 

Cody sighs, knowing he has to do something about this, just not sure what. He glances between Obi-Wan and the bed - he can’t exactly carry him over there without disturbing him. A compromise will have to do, then.

After a moment of thought, Cody takes the topmost blanket from his bed and drapes it over the Jedi’s shoulders, stilling briefly at the contented sigh that this elicits from his sleeping companion.

He hunts through his room for something he can use as a flat enough pillow so that he doesn’t have to adjust Obi-Wan’s head too much, and settles on an old civvie jacket that’s considerably tattered, but good enough for this purpose, he thinks.

He folds it up, gently nudging it underneath the Jedi’s cheek. Even when unconscious, Obi-Wan seems to read his intentions well, as he soon shifts to nuzzle his face into the fabric, miraculously barely stirring at the interruption. 

Cody can’t help the smile that softens his features at the sight. He wars with himself internally, before his sense of longing wins out over his propriety.

Slowly, he dips his head, brushing the lightest of kisses to Obi-Wan’s temple.

Sleep well, cyare, he thinks, but doesn’t dare to voice aloud as he retreats back to the threshold of his room, leaving Obi-Wan to what he hopes will be a much more comfortable rest now.

They’ll be back to normal from today, he muses to himself - no undercover aliases to affect the way they look and act, no need for unnecessary physical closeness and touch.

The realisations he’s had about his feelings, while unexpected and unbalancing for a time, are things he can brush to the side: that he can acknowledge, but still lock away. 

They are, in the grand scheme of things, unimportant to his day to day life, at least for the moment. The war takes precedent, as it should. 

Obi-Wan never has to find out, he reasons, though a part of Cody aches tremendously at that idea. He soothes that small, protesting voice by imagining that perhaps one day, after the war is over, he can find a way to broach the topic with him. Not that he expects any kind of returned sentiment, of course - such a thing would be almost laughable - but just to get this tremendous weight off of his chest, so there can be no secrets between them once more. 

Cody nods decisively as he makes his way down to the training rooms. Yes, that sounds reasonable. He can work with that, he thinks.

He hopes.

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

[aspentreewrites]

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

Chapter 5

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (for current arc) slow burn, general angst and pining, realising feelings, tending to wounds, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Link to read on AO3 here!

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.)

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A/N: I'm cooking up so much for the next few chapters, you aren't even ready :') thank you so much for all the kindness on chapter 4!!

Shout out to @whenyourfavouritedies (their AO3 here) for beta'ing as always!

Wordcount: 7.1k

Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

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Returning to their men after a few days away is, predictably, chaos. 

The second they enter the atmosphere, their comms light up with every notice they’d missed: dozens of fires that have been put out, but not quite how Cody would have done it; hundreds of meeting requests, mostly for inane matters that could have simply been an email; thousands of reports that have accrued in their absence…

It’s good to be home. 

By the time their ship docks, the sun is setting the Coruscant skyline ablaze. The skyscrapers stretch into eternity ahead of them, usually so indifferent and imposing, but Cody always finds them strangely comforting after he’s been away.

Cody doesn’t necessarily think that Fox was wrong in his drunken assessment when he had once called the city-planet a ‘shithole’, but there’s a fondness that’s crept up within him over the years. It’s his shithole, and the shithole is home. Unwelcoming, uncaring, cold, familiar home.

He blinks against the harsh light of the sunset, trying to resist the urge to rub his eyes. He can look as tired as he feels when he’s in the privacy of the barracks, but for the moment, he’s still on duty. He has far too much pride to allow his shoulders to slump in public, especially when at his General’s side.

The sleep on their return trip hadn’t done much to restore his energy - not that Cody suspected it would. By Obi-Wan’s estimate, the healing had done much of the work, but a full night’s rest would still be in order to make sure that he can be at his best for tomorrow. Cody, for once, hadn’t been able to find the strength to argue.

“Well,” the Jedi says as he disembarks from the ship, squinting as he looks out to the horizon. The Temple stands proud amidst its surroundings, its brutalist silhouette dwarfing the spires that neighbour it. “I should deliver my report to the Council before it gets too late. They wish to see me in person, it seems.”

Cody nods, even as the quiet guilt of leaving his General to handle all of the post-mission work alone nags at the back of his mind. He’s all too aware of how much there will be to do - more than enough for an all-nighter, if attempted alone.

He starts slightly as Obi-Wan reaches out a hand to gently squeeze his shoulder. “Your concern is unnecessary, but noted,” the Jedi comments lightly. “I’ll have to make note of the fact that you’re much worse at stoicism when you’re recovering from a concussion.” The faintest smile tugs at his lips under his beard.

Cody belatedly realises that his worry must have made its way onto his face, rather than strictly staying internal as he'd intended. In fact, it seems like he's been frowning rather intently for the past minute or so. He’s quick to rectify his expression to something closer to neutrality.

“Please try and forget that you know that,” he says dryly, watching as a speeder docks nearby. It’s sleek and shiny, all glossy black paint with a white stripe along the side. It probably costs more than Cody makes in a whole year… he shakes his head, trying not to linger on that particular train of thought. He turns his eyes back to his General. “It wouldn’t be ideal if you were tempted to hit me over the head whenever you wanted to know how I was feeling.”

Obi-Wan grins. “You’re no fun, Commander.”

Cody snorts. “I never have been, sir.” 

Looking over at his Jedi in lighting like this is a lethal thing. His skin had been slightly kissed by the sun during their stay on the resort, giving him a gentle glow that feels all-around unfair to be forced to look upon. The orange hues of the light bring out the blue in his eyes just so, and Cody imagines that this whole war business would have been a lot easier had he been given a General that looked just slightly less like the protagonist of a romance holo.

Obi-Wan squeezes his shoulder one more time before stepping back and bidding his leave, the two parting ways for the moment. As he makes his way back to the barracks, Cody’s mind is awash with a soft sense of longing, battling with an undeniable relief to be home. 

No more pretending to be Obi-Wan’s husband, at least - that particularly cruel decision by the fates has come to an end. Despite it all, Cody thinks quietly that a small, entirely unprofessional part of him will miss the opportunity to be so close to the Jedi.

His musings are interrupted when he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window of a nearby building. The strange war taking place in his head is decided - relief wins out in its entirety.

He’s finally allowed to shave again - thank the Stars.

_____________________________

As the doors of the Council Chambers close behind him, Obi-Wan finally - finally - allows himself to relax a little. 

He sweeps through the hallways of home, the sense of peace that always pervades the Jedi Temple permeating through his very being, calming his mind from the storm that threatens to overtake it. 

The mission had, upon reflection, been a resounding success. They’d identified their target quickly, and had not only retrieved the package for study, but also started to uncover the identity of a traitor within the Senate as well. 

And yet he can’t quite shake the feeling of guilt that haunts his thoughts, settling over him like an old, familiar blanket around his shoulders. 

Cody.

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, unconsciously mussing up the short strands. He’s sure he looks a mess, but he can’t find it in himself to care. A weary sigh escapes him.

It’s not even about the concussion, really, though he still feels sheepish about not sensing the rock when he had tackled him. The truth is, Obi-Wan has been feeling ashamed of himself ever since the… events of that second evening undercover. Just the memory alone is enough to make him grimace. What was he thinking? He should never, ever have–

His train of thought is swiftly interrupted by the emergence of Anakin from the chambers behind him, the young man setting a course straight in his direction. 

Obi-Wan takes a brief break from his self reproach, sending a gentle nudge through the Force to his former apprentice. Anakin returns it, though the glint of mischief in his eyes is absolutely not lost on Obi-Wan. He’s sure he should be worried - he feels his expression beginning to sour already. 

“Interesting choice for cover,” is the greeting his friend chooses, called rather loudly down the corridor as he jogs over to catch up. Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, is it?

Obi-Wan just walks faster.

“Good evening to you as well, Anakin,” he mutters, his words short and clipped. Anakin falls into step beside him, matching his hurried pace with ease. He gives Obi-Wan a smile that feels nauseatingly knowing.

“How’s Cody?” he asks, drawing out the syllables of the Commander’s name in a show of juvenile insinuation. A muscle in Obi-Wan’s jaw ticks - he’s taught him to be above this type of thing, surely, though it’s hardly a surprise at this point that his painstaking lessons in decorum over the years have been ignored.

“I don’t know what it is you’re implying, Anakin, but I’d advise you to stop, lest that objectionable smirk be seared on your face forever.”

His biting words do not, to Obi-Wan’s dismay, deter his former Padawan. If anything, they seem to spur him on.

“Touched a nerve, did I?” 

Obi-Wan casts the boy a sidelong glance, narrowing his eyes. Anakin’s appearance has changed subtly since Obi-Wan last saw him - before he and Cody went away, Anakin had been on a mission of his own for a number of weeks.

He needs a haircut.

“You need a haircut.”

Anakin snorts, pushing back the longer-than-usual locks from his face. “You’re deflecting,” he counters easily, all-too amused. 

Obi-Wan lets out an indignant huff, calling on the Force to bring him some calm. His own former apprentice, speaking to him like he’s the child here.

“I’m not dignifying such an accusation with a response,” he finds himself snapping before he has the time to temper his reaction. 

Obi-Wan is being petulant. He knows he’s being petulant, but Anakin just seems to draw the childish behaviour out of him like no one else can. 

Somehow not sensing that he’s treading on thin ice, or more likely, being entirely aware that he is and yet ploughing on anyway, Anakin continues. “Really, Obi-Wan, something has to be up. The last time I was able to wind you up like this was on The Coronet with Duchess–”

Obi-Wan takes a sharp right, ducking into his quarters in the vain hope that he can escape this conversation. He had been intending to make his way calmly down to the barracks to begin his work as soon as possible, but he’s willing to suffer in the indignity of temporarily hiding away like a youngling if it means shooing Anakin away.

“You’re drawing connections where there are none,” he retorts, his tone harsh, even to his own ears. He can only pray he doesn’t look as flustered as he feels, otherwise he knows he’ll never hear the end of it. “Now goodnight, Anakin. We will speak again in the morning, and I shall hear no more of this business from you.”

Anakin looks like the loth-cat that got the cream as he leans against the doorway, expression unerringly, irritatingly smug.

“Sure thing, Master,” he returns, not even bothering to try and conceal the lie through the Force. 

Obi-Wan, in a demonstration of his galaxy-renowned prowess at self control, slams his hand on the door controls not quite as hard as he could have done, shutting Anakin out for the moment. 

He hears the boy snort in amusement from the other side and can’t help but let out a soft curse from under his breath. That perplexing, arrogant, utterly irritating boy.

A faint sense of relief fills him as he senses Anakin’s Force signature grow gradually more and more distant, finally leaving him be.

In the darkness of his room, Obi-Wan takes a few deep breaths, the frustration melting away to something that sits considerably heavier on his heart.

Is he truly so obvious?

Obi-Wan, as a rule, prides himself on his stoicism, his ability to play his cards close to his chest. It’s even part of what earned him his reputation as the ‘Negotiator’, as much as the boastful title makes him cringe.

Only three people have ever been able to see through him at such a consistent rate that he would consider it unnerving. 

The first, Qui-Gon, was understandable. The Master had taken him on as a reckless youngling, and he had practically raised him for a decade. It stands to reason that he knew him as well as a father would a son.

And then Anakin, for better or worse, has always been able to read him like an open book, while still wilfully misinterpreting his intentions at every turn. It’s… infuriating, but the connection always made sense - the bond between a Master and Padawan is incredibly powerful, and despite their differences, he loves his former apprentice dearly.

Cody… Cody had come as much more of a surprise. 

It had started during meetings, once their partnership had given way to a closer kind of friendship: subtle expressions exchanged when they were otherwise unable to talk freely, minute acknowledgements of how a diplomatic council was progressing. A single look shared at the right moment quickly became an invaluable tool to aid them both in deciding how and when to proceed in a tense negotiation.

This, inevitably, had progressed into the development of inconspicuous hand signals, entirely unique to them. This was something already in use amongst the GAR, of course, but the two of them had found the existing signs woefully inadequate for their needs, and quickly set about to invent more.

And then, somehow, this non-verbal communication and reading of one another had settled into their everyday lives like it was always a part of them - cups of caf being pressed into Obi-Wan’s hand before he’d even realised he was tired, the two having an uncanny ability to finish each other’s thoughts and sentences during their more informal conversations late at night.

Nowhere has this become more prevalent to Obi-Wan than in the trust he has built that Cody can innately interpret his intentions and movements in the field as well as any Jedi can, somehow all without the use of the Force.

He had, briefly, pondered whether Cody was Force sensitive, but his midichlorian count had been within the normal range, though admittedly on the higher end, when he convinced the other man to let him take a little blood to perform a test. 

(It had amused him at the time to see that the Commander seemed rather relieved to find out this news. “It would have been another thing to have to worry about,” Cody had told him with a grin, “and I have quite a lot on my plate as it is.”)

The connection between them is all, to put a word to it that causes the Jedi to flush in shame, rather intimate.

Obi-Wan is certain that Cody doesn’t know how he feels about him - at least, he hopes.

He has invested far too much of himself in hiding his reactions as the months have passed - tempering the way his gaze and presence constantly gravitates towards Cody when he’s near, having to school his expressions every time he notices himself softening just a little too much - and as the war continues to wear him down, he knows his ability to keep up the charade is cracking.

… Enough so that Anakin has noticed, evidently.

He closes his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temples in a vain attempt to prevent a headache from forming. This would all be very well and fine if not for… he feels his jaw tighten -

That damn kiss.

Obi-Wan had other options at the time, surely - he must have done. So why couldn’t he think of any? Cody couldn’t have said no, not with the stakes as high as they were, and the thought that he might have taken advantage of his Commander’s trust crushes him.

And worse than that - much worse, to Obi-Wan’s mind - the thing that he’s lamenting the most here is that he can never un-know - can never erase the memory of what it felt like to have Cody’s lips move against his, can never forget the taste of the man he can never have in his arms again. 

He is, simply put, going to be haunted by the complete knowledge of what he must deny himself for the rest of his days.

His insides roil with shame. How selfish can he be that he’s been more preoccupied with that than the way he undermined Cody’s autonomy?

Sighing, Obi-Wan supposes that he’s spent more than enough time standing in a room with no lights on, behaving more like some angsty teenager with little better to do other than act like a lovesick puppy than a Jedi Master with several incredibly pressing matters to attend to.

His hand hovers near the door controls, not quite activating them yet as he gathers himself back together.

He can make it up to Cody. He will.

Obi-Wan draws on the Force, allowing it to settle his mind as much as he is able. Determination etches itself upon his features as he steps out once more into the hallways of the Temple.

Time to get back to work.

_____________________________

Cody’s fingers curl around the small bottle of painkillers he’s been administered, murmuring a word of thanks over his shoulder as he exits the medbay. As soon as he’s out of sight, he stuffs it into his pocket. Helix means well, but he knows he’ll be fine without them.

He hates feeling compromised, less aware than he usually would be (unless it’s at 79’s after a successful or particularly harrowing campaign, but being drunk always feels different being on painkillers - more in his control, somehow).

Besides, he’s had worse than this - far worse in fact, especially after the healing earlier. All he has to do is push through the pain enough to fall into his bed, and then he can sleep it off. 

Easy.

The door to his quarters slides open smoothly ahead of him. Cody’s so tired at this point that he very nearly doesn’t notice the Jedi’s presence at all, until he’s already halfway across the room.

When he does, all he can eloquently muster to say is: “... Oh.”

Obi-Wan is sitting at Cody’s desk, a stack of datapads left on the surface behind him. A few pieces of Cody’s armour lay in his lap, and he’s currently occupied with rubbing a cloth in small, circular motions over the surface of his helmet with a firm yet precise hand. He glances up at Cody’s inelegant noise, offering a warm smile.

“I hope you don’t mind me commandeering your space like this,” he greets softly.

Cody’s eyes are glued to his armour. Being cared for. In Obi-Wan’s lap. The neurons in his brain are firing in an array of different directions, but not one of them seems to be interested in forming a single coherent thought.

“That’s… quite alright,” he somehow manages to respond, the words feeling a little strangled in his throat.

He had given Obi-Wan his express permission to handle it, before.

Early one morning during a campaign out in the field, he’d managed to misplace his bracers in their tent. The Jedi had instinctively picked them up bare handed to pass them over when he found them, and had recoiled in genuine horror when he realised the implications of what he’d just done. 

(“I am highly aware,” he had said, glancing guiltily at Cody a minute or so after, once the flush had finally disappeared from his face, “that touching a Mandalorian’s armour without their consent is a grave insult. I can’t apologise enough, Commander. I didn’t think.” 

Cody turned, pausing in the midst of fiddling with the straps of his chestpiece.

“We’re…” he had started, not wanting to make Obi-Wan feel awkward. He searched for the right thing to say that didn’t sound too dismissive. “... Not entirely Mandalorian,” was what he eventually settled on. An evasion, perhaps, but he didn’t really know what else to say. 

“No, but you and the Vode share aspects of their beliefs all the same. I should have checked.”

They had lapsed into silence after that, donning their armour in tandem as they had on so many mornings of the war before then. Cody had taken the moment of quiet to mull over the thought a little. 

It was correct to say that, similar to that of the Mandalorians, a clone’s armour was generally a… personal affair, only ever really handled by themselves and the brothers they were close to, or a partner if they were that lucky.

But the truth of the matter was, Cody hadn’t even thought twice about the Jedi handing the bracers over - it didn’t feel particularly like a faux-pas, and certainly not like a violation of any kind. At the time, he hadn't been entirely certain as to why that was.

“It… is true that it’s a matter of trust,” Cody had slowly begun, and Obi-Wan winced.

“Of course,” he hastily interrupted, his tone one of self-admonishment. “Which is why I’m incredibly sorry I–”

“But I trust you, General,” he added quickly, before the Jedi could apologise again. “I’m fine with you touching my armour, if you ever have the need.”

It was a simple statement, very easily made given all they’d gone through together, but it seemed to take Obi-Wan by surprise all the same. Another flush had coloured the Jedi’s cheeks then, though it looked to be a rather pleased one this time.

“Ah,” he had murmured, looking for all the world like he didn’t quite know what to say. Cody had found it strangely endearing - what a state to reduce the famous ‘negotiator’ to. “Well, I… am honoured, Cody. Thank you.”)

That being said, there is a marked difference between Obi-Wan holding his armour for just a few seconds at a time to hand over or to admire, and… polishing it.

Not that Cody minds. Not that he minds at all. He takes great care to try and shield the way his heart suddenly feels like a drum pounding against his ribs, and offers a shaky smile.

“I thought you would be drowning in reports by now.”

Obi-Wan continues to work on the helmet as Cody realises that he shouldn’t just stand there, gawping in the middle of his room like an idiot. He sits down on the edge of his bed, trying not to give into the temptation to overthink every action he takes in an attempt to look ‘normal’.

His palms feel slightly sweaty as he watches his Jedi expertly apply the polish to the plastoid surface - just as Cody himself would do it. He must have been taking notes.

He doesn’t know the significance, Cody tries to remember, mentally chastising himself for getting so carried away. He’s just being kind. He knows that I would usually do this first thing after a mission, and he doesn’t want me to neglect something so important, just because I’m ill.

“I wanted to check in on you first. What was Helix’s verdict?”

Cody, despite the unexpected distraction sending his system into overdrive, isn’t quite able to stifle a yawn. Stars, he’s tired.

“That I’ll be fine with a little rest,” he answers truthfully. He’s perhaps being deliberately vague about the exact amount of rest that had been prescribed for him, but that’s neither here nor there. “There was a small blip on the brain scans, but he couldn’t seem to figure out the origin. I passed all the cognitive tests, so he’s not particularly concerned.”

Obi-Wan frowns when he hears that, but nonetheless nods slowly. “As long as he’s keeping an eye on you.”

“Rapid healing,” Cody reminds him. “I’ll be fine.”

Obi-Wan hums, unconvinced. Neither of them can really talk when it comes to the other being too blasé about their health, though they always try.

They fall quiet for a moment as the Jedi’s attention returns once again to the work in his lap. Cody’s eyes track the hypnotic movement of his hands, caressing his armour like it means something to him.

Oh, those hands. Those clever hands that he’s watched be equally capable of both excruciating tenderness and exquisite violence. 

Stroking the hair of a frightened child or clenching into a fist to crush a battle droid from half a battlefield away; soothing a wild creature or wielding a lightsaber like an instrument of certain death.

Cody has seen those knuckles bloodied as many times from punches as from sewing up wounds… and now here they are, tending to the armour that, by some measures of Mandalorian belief, is tantamount to his soul.

He longs to press his lips to them.

“If it’s all the same to you…” Obi-Wan murmurs, startling Cody from his reverie. “I’d feel more at ease if I could work on the reports here while you rest. Just in case…” the Jedi trails off.

He worries far, far too much, Cody thinks, but he knows Obi-Wan feels guilty about being the one to ‘cause’ the injury in the first place. The Stars above know he’d be fretting just as much were their positions reversed.

He doesn’t really need a moment of consideration, but he pretends to take one anyway. He sleeps better than he ever does when Obi-Wan is on watch nearby, but to tell him so would be saying far too much.

“I don’t mind,” Cody says in an approximation of nonchalance, swinging his legs up onto his cot. Usually he wouldn’t sleep in his blacks unless he’s out in the field, but he’s not exactly about to strip off while Obi-Wan is in here. “I really am fine, but I know that saying that won’t change anything.”

Cody watches Obi-Wan try and suppress a grin as he settles down under the blanket, the Jedi neatly setting down the armour in a pile on the desk and starting on the stack of reports.

“My dear Commander,” Obi-Wan says, clearly attempting to sound woefully put out. “Are you accusing me of being stubborn?”

Cody matches his tone, rolling onto his side with a gasp of offence. “I would never.” 

He relishes in the quiet chuckle the joke earns him, tucking that smug sense of satisfaction away into the pocket of his heart that his Jedi has long since made a home in. He loves making him laugh.

Obi-Wan waves his hand in the direction of the entrance to the room, dimming the lights to something he can still work in but that will allow his compatriot to find sleep a little easier. Cody is, as ever, grateful for his thoughtfulness.

“Mm. Well, speaking of stubbornness, my staying here also has the benefit that I can keep an eye on you in the event that you try and wrestle these reports from me to complete yourself,” Obi-Wan returns lightly.

It was a hard won battle to get the Commander to agree to not work tonight, and truth be told, if Cody was feeling the slightest bit better he would be trying to cajole Obi-Wan into letting him help a little. The Jedi knows him well.

That said, Obi-Wan had made him promise. 

“When have I ever disobeyed orders?” Cody murmurs, allowing his eyes to slip closed. The darkness is a sweet relief, indeed.

He doesn’t need the Force to sense the incredulous way his General rolls his eyes. “Need I remind you of Halidren?” 

“Need I remind you that you have repeatedly stated that you admired my actions on Halidren?”

The Jedi is quiet for a few moments as he considers this, tapping away at the datapad in front of him.

“... That’s besides the point. The point was you suggesting that you’d never gone against orders,” he answers, a gentle mirth in his tone. 

Cody lets out a quiet huff of amusement. He’s far too tired for effectively trading words right now - he’s sure he’d have something substantial to counter with were he at full capacity. “Mm… I suppose you win,” he concedes, his voice a soft mumble as sleep begins to call to him. “Maybe you should keep an eye on me, then.”

“It shall be my sacred duty,” Obi-Wan vows, the smile in his voice evident. “Sleep now, Cody.”

It’s a fair request. Cody decides he should probably do as he’s asked. The quiet that falls over the room is punctuated only by the soft sounds of their breathing, the sound of typing, and the occasional unintelligible mutterings from the Jedi as he works. 

It’s not long before Cody succumbs to his exhaustion, the peace and safety he feels lulling him to his very needed slumber.

_____________________________

Dreams of Halidren visit Cody that night, the lingering memories of that day flitting through his sleeping mind.

He’s on the dusty ground, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been running, only that his legs ache terribly underneath him as they pound against what remains of the pavement underfoot. 

This wasn’t an ordered course of action, he didn’t have permission to split off from the main group. Or perhaps ‘not ordered’ is a little generous. If anything, he’s going directly against command - ‘no detours’ had been the fairly explicit order he’d been given.

He only hopes General Kenobi can forgive him, or he’s in for hell during the debrief later - or perhaps decommissioning, if his new General was inclined to the idea. It doesn’t seem likely from what he’s seen over the past few weeks, but Gods help him, Cody’s willing to risk it. 

Regardless, it’s a little too late for regrets now.

He skids through the mud, pulling himself to a stop amongst the debris in front of him. A series of small, attached suburban homes - or at least it was earlier today. The clankers have done no small amount of destruction to the village in the past week, and despite the battalion making progress in pushing them out, the number of civilians that have perished thus far are devastatingly high.

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s risking so much for this - or maybe it’s the lack of sleep he’s had since this campaign started. All Cody knows is that he doesn’t have much of a choice to back out of this sudden insanity, so he may as well commit.

“Come on, come on…” he mutters to himself, making his way through the ruins. He’d heard it earlier on the long range scanners, he knows he did - Waxer had, too. Maybe he’s too late. Maybe–

The plaintive wail of an infant nearby nearly makes his knees buckle with relief. He was fast enough. They’re still alive.

Cody beelines for the source of the sound, his gloved hands pulling desperately at the wreckage. Just under a collapsed awning, he catches a hint of movement, spying a shock of dust-smeared blue skin. 

With shaking hands, he reaches in to gently extract a tiny Pantoran baby from the debris of what would have once been its home. The small thing wriggles and fusses in his arms, clearly terrified. He removes his helmet to hopefully give the infant something to focus on, praying silently that they’ll be calmed by the sight of another person - the last thing he needs is their cries attracting droids to their location.

“Shh, now,” Cody murmurs as soothingly as he can, cradling them carefully to his chest as his heart pounds. They’re so heartbreakingly small, covered in dirt and dust. It’s a wonder they can breathe at all. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”  

Night has fallen by the time he returns to the camp, the little one finally having given into their exhaustion and now sleeping fitfully in his arms. 

It’s frankly a miracle that they made it back in one piece, given that Cody had had to stealth past an unexpected patrol of clankers while trying to keep his charge from wailing or fussing, but fortune had seen fit to smile upon them, it seems - a fact that Cody is immeasurably grateful for. Risking his life and position in the GAR by trying to save a single baby would be an action only made more idiotic by dying in the process.

The sight of the stoic Commander clutching the baby so protectively to his chest draws a few stares from his men as he moves through the camp, but he pays them no mind. He can answer all of their questions later, but for the moment, a sense of urgency fills him. 

He’s careful not to jostle the little one too much in his arms as he breaks into a light jog, heading over to the command tent. There’s not much point in delaying the matter - he knows he’s messed up fairly spectacularly, but he has enough pride to at least face his punishment head on.

Even at this time of night, Halidren is not particularly a dark planet. Their camp is lit up by a number of glowing insects, all fluttering around the soft lantern light that emanates from the tent at the centre. On previous nights, Cody might be moved to call such a sight ‘pretty’. Tonight, however, ‘ominous’ seems to fit the bill much more accurately.

Cody hesitates just briefly outside the entrance of the tent, overhearing voices within. 

“Be that as it may, Waxer,” the Jedi says, his voice as even and calm as ever, “I would rather like to hear the Commander’s explanation in his own words.”

“Sir, it really was my idea,” Waxer protests in turn. Cody sighs to himself. Of course the loyal fool is trying to take the fall for him. He squares his shoulders, pushing open the tent flap. “Cody didn’t–”

“I can speak for myself, thank you, Lieutenant,” Cody interrupts as he steps through. He meets his General’s gaze briefly, trying to discern just how much trouble he’s in from his expression alone. Kenobi remains as unreadably passive as ever. 

They’re… friendly, with one another, despite it still being early days. More than that, even - Cody had seen fit to give the General his name not long ago, after all - but he still can’t predict how he’s going to react to insubordination quite like this.

Waxer turns, visibly breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of his Commander and the infant currently resting against Cody’s chest, both unharmed. He never was very good at hiding his emotions. 

“You’re dismissed, Waxer,” Obi-Wan commands softly. The Lieutenant salutes and dips out of the tent, but not before giving Cody a small, supportive nod.

For a long, tense moment, the only sound that fills the tent is the soft breaths of the sleeping baby as they clutch at the edge of Cody’s chestplate.

“So,” the General starts, his eyes lingering on them as they wriggle in their sleep. “This is who I have to thank for my Commander running off on his own, then?”

Cody shifts the little one in his arms protectively, holding Obi-Wan’s gaze. Nervousness claws at his chest, but he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t regret this decision, and there’s no point in pretending to be sheepish - he stands by his choice, unwaveringly. 

“I tried your comms, sir,” he says, steady yet quiet, so as not to wake the little one, “but they were inactive at the time. The droids were closing in on that quadrant. I had to make a call.”

“Absolutely you did, Commander,” the Jedi replies, folding his hands in front of him. “An incredibly reckless call at that. If you had died while out there, this entire campaign might have been compromised.”

He steps around the holotable in the centre of the tent, stopping just short of the Commander. Cody stands tall, despite the part of his mind that insists he shrink into himself.

“And,” Obi-Wan continues, “I’m sure you know that the GAR rulebook would command you to have stayed put. Orders from a CO should be absolute, regardless of how you feel about following them - unless you believe that to do so would be to commit treason.” 

He pauses briefly, before his expression breaks into a small, approving smile. “So let it be said, I am immensely grateful to have the head of my battalion know when to make his own calls.”

Cody blinks. 

No reprimand? Not even a slight slap on the wrist?

“... Sir?” he prompts, bewildered.

A soft whimpering sound comes from the Pantoran between them as they start to wake, and Obi-Wan closes his eyes, pressing his palm to the baby’s forehead. Cody watches as they near immediately fall back to sleep, soothed by whatever is being channeled to them through the Force. 

The small tent feels as if it’s become a factor more peaceful around the two of them, though whether that’s through an excess of soothing energies from Obi-Wan’s use of the Force filling the space or just the sheer relief he’s feeling, Cody isn’t sure.

“I cannot in good conscience fault you for a reckless decision that I myself would have made,” Obi-Wan murmurs softly, opening his eyes again. An amused smirk tugs at his lips. “Though let it be said that I may have had a few concerns, had you not properly informed your squad beforehand and delegated responsibility… but it seems that even in your rebellious moments, you remain one of the most organised people I know.”

Cody offers Obi-Wan a tentative smile, a sense of pride swelling up within him at the assessment. 

“I’m… glad you see it that way, sir,” he says, “I just… when we heard the crying over our scanners, I couldn’t…” he shakes his head as his gaze falls to the once again sleeping little one, carefully adjusting them in his arms. 

When Cody looks back up at Obi-Wan, he realises the Jedi has been watching him with an expression that borders on tender. He feels a flush prickle at his neck, noticing just how close they’re standing.

“Your empathy is a remarkable quality, Commander,” Obi-Wan murmurs sincerely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And the fact that you were willing to risk court martial for the life of an innocent speaks volumes to your character. I’m incredibly grateful to have been paired with you and the 212th.”

If Cody wasn’t flushing before, he is now. 

“Thank you, General,” he manages to say without stammering, “To speak freely, I’m… incredibly glad we’re aligned in this matter.”

The Jedi smiles, a warm and sincere thing, before he turns back to face the holotable and clears his throat quietly.

“We’ll bring the child back to the rest of the rescued civilians,” Obi-Wan says, his voice once more his usual tone of calm and command. “Their parents may not be around any longer, but I’m certain some family or neighbours will be.”

He turns his head, giving the Commander a small nod. His eyes betray the pride he feels in Cody’s actions, and Cody tries very, very hard to not let it go to his head. A little bit of it does, regardless. “Thank you very much, Cody. That will be all.” 

_____________________________

The lights are still out when Cody’s eyes flutter open, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Not quite morning, his internal clock tells him, but perhaps somewhat close to it.

He’s warmer than usual - likely the reason why he’s woken up at this hour, he suspects - and it slowly dawns on him that he’s still in his full under-armour gear. With a small groan, he pulls himself into a sitting position. He’s about to pull off his shirt when he hears a quiet sigh from a few paces away.

Startled, Cody’s head snaps around to the source of the noise, already reaching for the blaster under his pillow before he realises what - or, more accurately, who - is sharing his room tonight.

Obi-Wan is still at Cody’s desk, crumpled over with his cheek pressed to the surface. He must have fallen asleep some time ago. 

Cody exhales deeply, the panic of a potential threat fading slowly from his system. It’s definitely not the first time one of them has fallen asleep in the other’s room, he just hadn’t been expecting it this morning. 

It seems that Obi-Wan really had been serious about keeping an eye on him in case the concussion proved to be worse than they’d thought - Cody can’t help but smile a little at that. He might think it’s ridiculous and over-cautious, but it’s sweet that he cares.

He stills for a moment, watching the way that little curl of hair the Jedi usually keeps pushed back from his forehead flops over his face, stirring with each exhale of breath. It would be endearing if the position he’s in didn’t look so uncomfortable.

Checking the chrono at his wrist, Cody takes a moment to stretch his upper body, relieving the kinks in his back with a muffled grunt before slowly rising from the bed. 

It’s 05:30, decidedly late enough that he may as well get a head start on training, prep the meeting room before they officially start for the day - he knows he won’t get more sleep tonight, so trying feels fairly useless.

He doesn’t want to risk waking Obi-Wan, so he resolves to shower and shave in the communal bathrooms - the boys won’t mind, he’s sure. It’s become a personal rule of thumb to never interrupt the General when he’s out like this, given how he seems to struggle to rest more often than not. He deserves every extra minute he can eke out, Cody thinks fondly.

As he turns to leave, he glances back at the Jedi, the slightest of frowns passing over his features. He… can’t just leave him in such an awkward position, can he? 

Cody sighs, knowing he has to do something about this, just not sure what. He glances between Obi-Wan and the bed - he can’t exactly carry him over there without disturbing him. A compromise will have to do, then.

After a moment of thought, Cody takes the topmost blanket from his bed and drapes it over the Jedi’s shoulders, stilling briefly at the contented sigh that this elicits from his sleeping companion.

He hunts through his room for something he can use as a flat enough pillow so that he doesn’t have to adjust Obi-Wan’s head too much, and settles on an old civvie jacket that’s considerably tattered, but good enough for this purpose, he thinks.

He folds it up, gently nudging it underneath the Jedi’s cheek. Even when unconscious, Obi-Wan seems to read his intentions well, as he soon shifts to nuzzle his face into the fabric, miraculously barely stirring at the interruption. 

Cody can’t help the smile that softens his features at the sight. He wars with himself internally, before his sense of longing wins out over his propriety.

Slowly, he dips his head, brushing the lightest of kisses to Obi-Wan’s temple.

Sleep well, cyare, he thinks, but doesn’t dare to voice aloud as he retreats back to the threshold of his room, leaving Obi-Wan to what he hopes will be a much more comfortable rest now.

They’ll be back to normal from today, he muses to himself - no undercover aliases to affect the way they look and act, no need for unnecessary physical closeness and touch.

The realisations he’s had about his feelings, while unexpected and unbalancing for a time, are things he can brush to the side: that he can acknowledge, but still lock away. 

They are, in the grand scheme of things, unimportant to his day to day life, at least for the moment. The war takes precedent, as it should. 

Obi-Wan never has to find out, he reasons, though a part of Cody aches tremendously at that idea. He soothes that small, protesting voice by imagining that perhaps one day, after the war is over, he can find a way to broach the topic with him. Not that he expects any kind of returned sentiment, of course - such a thing would be almost laughable - but just to get this tremendous weight off of his chest, so there can be no secrets between them once more. 

Cody nods decisively as he makes his way down to the training rooms. Yes, that sounds reasonable. He can work with that, he thinks.

He hopes.

next chapter

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

[aspentreewrites]

💕Happy Valentine’s Day!💕

[aspentreewrites]

how codywan first kiss bingo makes me feel fr

@codywanfirstkissbingo

[aspentreewrites]

Tripping Along

It’s just the two of them amidst a cacophony of exploding stars and colours, bright and swirling and reacting to every move they make. They are the centre of this perfect, divine universe, and it loves them as much as they love it. Perhaps, Cody thinks, being drugged by that plant is the best thing to have happened to them in a long while. Returning from a scouting mission, Obi-Wan and Cody happen upon a botanical discovery with... interesting effects. Cody decides that it's exactly what they needed - an opportunity to relax, to show his lover some gentleness they've both been in desperate need of.

Link to read on AO3 here!

Pairing: Codywan

Rating - Explicit

Wordcount - 5.4k

Tags/Warnings and full fic under the cut!

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Tags/Warnings: Explicit sexual content and language, accidental drug use (but the ensuing sex is very consensual), established relationship, service top cody & bottom obi-wan, porn with feelings

A/N: It's my 24th birthday and I'm choosing to publish incredibly self indulgent smut to celebrate <3

Is it smut as an excuse for a character study, or a character study as an excuse for smut? Much to think about.

This work was entirely inspired by the song 'Tripping Along' by The Decemberists (give it a listen if you fancy a reading companion)! Shout out to Colin Meloy for writing so many good songs about incredibly specific intimate situations.

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It had been - initially, at least - purely a matter of scientific inquiry. 

Obi-Wan had never seen a flower like it before - the tall stalk, the vibrant colours - they’d caught his eye while they were on their way back to the camp from a fairly routine scouting mission.

It was just the two of them, and Cody had been more than happy to indulge the Jedi’s curiosity. The last few days of the campaign on this planet had been stressful, to say the least, and something in a very weary Obi-Wan had lit up at the sight of the plant - Cody couldn’t have told him no if he’d tried.

Together, they had tried (keyword being tried) to prise out one of the seedpods nestled amongst the petals without damaging the rest of the plant, for the Jedi to study later.  

Unfortunately for them, it hadn’t been all that simple. 

The second they had successfully dislodged one of the seed pods, the plant had closed itself up quickly - but not before it let out a puff of some kind of gas as a defence mechanism. 

The two had stumbled back a few steps, coughing and spluttering. Outside of the foul aftertaste, though, it had seemed harmless enough at the time. Obi-Wan had even checked them both over in the Force to try and detect any poison, just in case. 

… And now, here they are. 

Though, come to think of it, Cody’s not entirely sure where ‘here’ is, actually.

He’s a few steps ahead of Obi-Wan as they walk, making his way up onto the crest of a hill he thinks they must have come over earlier - logically, they must have done - but it looks entirely alien to him.

Alien. That’s an odd concept. Everything on this planet is alien, in a technical sense. He looks down at the grass, frowning in thought. Why is it he’d decided to climb this hill, exactly?

His brain, Cody thinks distantly, is not quite as sharp as it usually is.

“... Cody,” Obi-Wan’s voice comes from a little way behind him. 

Cody, a little confused, wonders for a moment if he’s always seen colours floating through the air as his General speaks, or if that’s something that’s just happening right now. He can’t remember. “I rather believe our interesting botanical discovery earlier might have contained some properties that are a little–”

Cody’s knees buckle underneath him, finding himself fixated on the way the meadow flowers are… dancing, amidst the grass. 

“-- psychoactive.”

Cody blinks slowly.

The information makes sense, he rationalises, but he’s entirely sure what he can do with it. The raw facts of the situation are all, at this moment, feeling rather abstract.

He should probably ask Obi-Wan something practical, like if they’re in danger of being ambushed while in such a state, or if they need to radio immediately for pickup from their unit. He certainly intends to. 

What actually comes out of Cody’s mouth when he opens it to speak is:

“The grass is soft.”

He looks back at Obi-Wan, who seems to be staring his way with barely concealed amusement. 

“Is it, now.”

Cody nods. He wants to sink down into it, perhaps even sleep. He is, after all, so very tired after today. “Yeah.”

Obi-Wan softly makes his way over, ever-graceful in his steps, and kneels down beside Cody. With a thoughtful hum, he reaches out a hand to run his fingertips across the blades of grass below. His eyes widen, and he lets out a quiet sound of surprise.

“So it is,” he murmurs, wonder filling his tone.

Cody’s not entirely sure how long the two of them stay there, observing the meadow around them with far more reverence than strictly necessary. He’s never noticed before just how nice it is to feel the solid ground under his palm, how pleasant the feeling of a gentle, cool breeze is against his skin.

He’s only broken out of his reverie by the sound of Obi-Wan speaking into his comm-link, informing the team back at the base that their scouting mission has concluded, a little earlier than anticipated.

“Copy that, General,” comes the swift response. The crackles of the radio are unusually harsh to Cody’s ears. He’d rather not hear them, he decides. Not for now. “Will you still be returning in the morning, or are you headed back now?”

Neither of them rush to respond to the query. Obi-Wan stares over at Cody, and the two hold one another’s gaze for a long moment.

“I should… flush it out,” Obi-Wan murmurs. Slowly, he lays back on the grass with a sigh, his eyes tracking the sky above them. Cody follows the path of his gaze, idly watching the way the stars glow and blur in his vision, weaving themselves into constellations both unknowable and ethereal. 

Cody is not a particularly religious man. 

The clones had been taught of the oversoul, of the Manda that Fett’s people believe in, but it never particularly resonated with him as something true. 

In death for the Republic comes glory, he doesn’t dispute that, but in his mind, it’s not a requirement for a soul. It can’t be. 

All beings, Cody had decided at a young age, must harbour a connection to the divine, if such a thing even existed. The alternative option, a so-called ‘God’ that picks and chooses who is worthy, is something he wouldn’t be interested in appeasing anyway.

That being said, if the heavens so many religions speak of are, in fact, real, then they’re above the two of them right now, twinkling overhead and promising quietly to keep this small moment of rebellion a secret.

Nothing else exists in this small pocket of existence but them, the stars, and the endless meadows below. It’s a beautiful rarity, far from the inescapable bustling of Coruscant and the chaos of the battlefield.

The idea of Obi-Wan bringing this to an end suddenly feels almost unbearable.

“They won’t miss us. We’re not needed back until dawn, anyway,” he proposes softly. 

They both need to relax - desperately, in fact. The war has never once been ‘easy’, not for a moment, but these most recent weeks have brought more obituary reports and unyielding nightmares than usual.

Obi-Wan turns his gaze on Cody, his eyes reflecting the millions of lights overhead. Cody momentarily forgets how to breathe.

“A Jedi is not supposed to be… compromised in such a way,” Obi-Wan eventually replies, though there’s a tinge of regret in his tone that belies how much he wishes they could stay like this, too.

It suddenly occurs to Cody that perhaps it is his mission, ordained by the Stars above themselves, to convince the Jedi to actually allow himself to indulge in relaxation for once. Obi-Wan needs this, and it’s frustrating him that he can’t see that, too. 

Cody realises that he’s not entirely sure how to go about persuading the man before him, especially with his usual faculties of speech a little lost from him. His mind is made up, though, so as with any negotiation, he begins by stalling.

Carefully, he shuffles himself closer on the grass, leaning down over the Jedi who follows each movement with lidded, hazy eyes. Gods, he’s pretty like this - none of that usual tension that bleeds into every breath and word, bathed in the moonlight like the men on the covers of those pulp holonovels that Woolley secretly keeps a stash of in his bunk.

Cody slowly dips his head, pressing a languid, open-mouthed kiss to the side of his Jedi’s neck. The taste of his skin sends a shiver down Cody’s spine, something he can usually lose himself in entirely, even without the help of the plant’s effects. 

In this heightened state, it’s all he can focus on. 

Obi-Wan sucks in a quiet breath, tilting his head back in a silent encouragement for Cody to continue.

“Can you let go of what a Jedi should be, should do…” Cody murmurs between kisses, his voice low, breathless. “For just a few hours?”  

Beneath his lips, he feels the other man still, warring with himself as he always is. His mind, Cody knows, is no doubt filled with the voices of every authority he has ever known, telling him how she should be acting, what the proper thing to do would be.

Time to negotiate a little harder, then.

Cody gently bites at his throat, promptly soothing the sting with his tongue. His efforts earn him a sharp gasp, the Jedi arching his back ever so slightly into the sensation.

All that is, is the scent of Obi-Wan filling his nostrils, the salt of his sweat on his tongue.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan breathes, “Force above.” One of his hands comes up to tangle in the curls at the nape of Cody’s neck, gently running through the strands there. The feeling seems to reverberate through Cody’s very being, both soothing and arousing all at once. 

With great effort, he pulls himself back to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze - much darker than it was before, his lashes low and pretty over those beautiful eyes.

“Please, Obi-Wan,” Cody says, more than willing to cast aside his pride to plead with him for this. This moment feels far too important to just let go of, now. “Let me take care of you.”

I need to take care of you, too, are the unspoken words that echo in Cody’s head - he’s sure the Jedi can sense them anyway. I need it like I need air.

At Obi-Wan’s hip, his comm-link buzzes again, shattering the moment. The boys back at the base need a response, and Cody’s out of time to make his case. 

Obi-Wan watches Cody for a long moment, his still-hazy eyes searching for an answer. Cody meets his gaze unflinchingly, his expression as imploring as he can make it. 

With a heavy sigh, the Jedi reaches for his comm-link and activates it. Cody holds his breath. 

To Obi-Wan’s credit, his words only barely come out slurred. “Expect us back in the morning as initially planned, Waxer. There’s more here that we need to explore - we’ll be in contact if we need a pickup before then.”

“Copy that, General. We’ll see you then.”

The hush that ensues falls over them like a warm blanket on a winter’s night. Cody feels his shoulders drop, exhaling in relief as the decision is made.

He smiles, gently nudging Obi-Wan to lay back down against the grass again. The Jedi still looks a little guilty, opening his mouth to speak, but Cody swallows his words with a kiss before he can get them out. 

Bracing his forearms on the grass below, he gently cages Obi-Wan in below him; a promise of safety, an affirmation that in this moment, there’s nothing to feel guilty of, no reason to be afraid.

Cody’s entire body feels like it’s floating at the sound of the soft sigh his Jedi lets out into the kiss, the way Obi-Wan’s hands weave into his hair and pull him ever closer.

“No thoughts,” Cody mumbles against his lips as they finally break for air, both breathless and wanting. “No… planning, no strategising, no need to be anything but a man. Just for now. Okay?”

Obi-Wan’s fingers tighten a little in Cody’s hair as he blinks languidly up at him, clearly still fighting against the way the drug wants to pull him down under the waves. Cody resolves to remedy that soon, but all things in good time.

“I… could be amenable to that,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

Ever the eloquent negotiator, even in a situation such as this. Cody lowers his lips to Obi-Wan’s ear, relishing in the way the other man shivers in response. 

“I’m curious,” he begins quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to his hair. “How does the Force feel right now?” Cody shifts his weight onto one of his forearms to free up a hand. With it, he wanders, smoothing down Obi-Wan’s robes with a light touch.

The Jedi hums, his eyes returning to the stars overhead. The faintest of smiles tugs at his face, awed and reverent. Cody continues his gentle exploration, tracing idle patterns against the fabric at Obi-Wan’s hip.

“Tangible,” Obi-Wan answers in a hushed tone. “Everywhere. Like I can almost see it in the air.” He closes his eyes, his expression shifting to one of utter peace, as it often is when he’s in deep meditation. Finally letting go, like he needs to. Good.

Never let it be said that Cody doesn’t seize an opportunity when it arises.

His hand slips less-than-innocently to Obi-Wan’s inner thigh, adding subtle pressure as he rubs small circles with his thumb.

“And how about now?” he asks softly.

Obi-Wan’s eyelids flutter, letting out a breath.

“Darling, I…”

Cody splays out his palm, pressing the heel of it against Obi-Wan’s groin.

The Jedi gasps, hips twitching at the unexpected contact, and Cody presses a kiss to the shell of his ear before drawing back.

“Answer the question, dear,” he breathes, his tone sweet and honeyed - a direct contrast to the heat of his actions.

“Like a supernova,” Obi-Wan mumbles, his eyes snapping open, fixated on Cody as if he contains the essence of the very universe itself. “Cody…”

Cody feels a heat coil low in his gut. He’s never sure what to do with the adoration that so often clouds his lover’s gaze - so pure and uncomplicated, as if he deserves such a thing.

It’s been the biggest thing he’s struggled to reconcile with throughout the length of their relationship so far; that feeling of being wanted. Of being desired to be by someone’s side, not because of his abilities in battle, nor for any strategic purpose - but simply because they want him to be.

It’s utterly foreign to him. The complete opposite of everything he was told to be possible when he was younger. A clone does not get to love. 

… And yet, here he is. The hallucinogenic seems to magnify the emotion that swells through him like a wave.

“You’re so beautiful,” Cody whispers past the sudden lump in his throat, continuing to palm the growing hardness beneath Obi-Wan’s robes.

The Jedi whines at the praise - a sound that had fascinated Cody the first time he had heard it, so long ago now, and still serves to be just as satisfying now.

“And so sensitive,” he adds, unable to keep the amusement out of his tone. Obi-Wan, despite very clearly not being himself right now, manages to level him with an almost-pout.

“You would forgive me for any– ah, Stars– perceived overreactions, were you experiencing what I am right now, love,” Obi-Wan manages. 

Cody decides quietly that he would like very much to take away his ability to use that coherent, clever tongue, the sooner the better. He’s using far too many words for someone who should be an utter mess right now.

With some effort, Cody pulls back (pointedly ignoring the sound of protest this elicits from Obi-Wan), and carefully begins to peel away Obi-Wan’s robes.

It is a tenet of the Jedi Order it seems, to Cody’s mind at least, to instill their members with an unabiding and lifelong love of over-complicated uniforms. (Dressing oneself, Obi-Wan had told him once, is a time for a Jedi to meditate - to connect to the Force first thing in the morning). 

Over the months, Cody has learnt enough tricks to keep from fumbling - the most efficient ways to quickly divest his lover of all of those bothersome extra layers. In fact, he’s fairly sure he could do it blindfolded at this point. 

With each inch of skin revealed to him, Cody feels himself brought further and further under by the pull of the drug coursing through his system. He gives himself over to it willingly, pressing the pad of his thumb gently against the pulse point in Obi-Wan’s neck and marvelling at the flutter of the pulse beneath it. So delicate. So perfect.

“Fuck, you’re…” his hand trails further down, pushing apart the fabric to reveal the curls of hair at Obi-Wan’s chest, dragging his fingers through it with a touch that might be considered reverent, were it not so sinful. “Exquisite.”

Cody shifts so his other hand can cradle Obi-Wan’s jaw gently, lovingly, while he explores at his leisure.

Obi-Wan exhales slowly, pressing his cheek against Cody’s palm and letting his eyes flutter closed, his expression one of pure bliss. His hair is unruly, his cheeks flushed, looking every bit the image of the debauched, fallen Jedi as he tries to catch his breath. 

It’s intoxicating, and Cody revels in the fact that he gets to be the one who can do this to the usually unflappable Jedi Master. 

Sudden emotion surges within him once again, this time a deep sense of wonder at the trust that Obi-Wan places in him so readily. Cody silently vows to do right by that trust, now and always, if he is to be allowed such a privilege.

He takes a moment to pause in his explorations, tracing the lines of scars he’s long since memorised, worshipped ardently at the altar of in stolen moments between battles. Mesh’la. Beautiful. Two languages aren’t enough to describe him.

The Commander kisses his General once more, his tongue dragging over his lower lip before slipping inside the other man’s mouth. 

Stars above, he tastes so sweet. Cody’s whole body feels like it’s on fire, his nerves tingling as stars burst behind his eyelids. 

The sheer passion of the moment, the relief of being able to shed their duties entirely and surrender to this strange type of oblivion, combine to become something altogether further than ecstasy. 

He licks into Obi-Wan’s mouth like a man starved, unable to hold back his desires any longer. He’s dimly aware of his own body reacting to the heat of the moment, his codpiece feeling unreasonably tight, but he dismisses the thought for now. He wants to - has to - focus on his lover first. He wants to ruin Obi-Wan, so thoroughly and completely that when the time comes for them to join as one, the Jedi won’t be able to think of anything but Cody’s name.

The thought is enough to steal the breath from his lungs.

Cody’s wandering hand dips further, down to Obi-Wan’s waistband, toying with the fabric idly. 

The likelihood of anyone stumbling across them on this hilltop, miles from civilisation and far from their base, is miniscule, but he still pulls back from the kiss to watch his Jedi’s expression intently for any sign of hesitation, of uncertainty.

Finding none, Cody gently tugs down the fabric, his eyes falling to the real focus of his attentions now. Stars above, but Cody is lost.

Obi-Wan’s cock hangs heavily as it’s freed from his clothes, already hard and lazily drooling precome from the tip. Cody can’t suppress the shudder of pure, electric desire that moves through him at the sight.

With practiced skill, he takes him in hand, stroking his palm down and gently squeezing him at the base. A satisfied smirk flits across his face as he hears Obi-Wan gasp sharply, feels the way he pulses under his fingers.

This is normally where he would tease, if they had found themselves with enough time to spare back aboard The Negotiator - drag his fingers a little too lightly up the underside, trace each vein delicately until Obi-Wan is a panting, writhing mess beneath him, begging for more oh-so prettily.

… But with the way he feels in this moment, Cody doesn’t think he has the patience to wait. 

He begins to stroke Obi-Wan’s length, up and then down rhythmically, at a languid and unhurried pace to begin with. He watches, spellbound, as the muscles of the Jedi’s abdomen ripple and tighten with his fight to control his breathing.  

Cody twists his wrist as he pumps, taking advantage of the way Obi-Wan’s jaw goes slack with a soft moan to press his thumb into the Jedi’s mouth. Obi-Wan accepts it gratefully, his eyes heavy and lidded as he meets Cody’s gaze once more.

The world falls away. 

It’s just the two of them amidst a cacophony of exploding stars and colours, bright and swirling and reacting to every move they make. They are the centre of this perfect, divine universe, and it loves them as much as they love it. Perhaps, Cody thinks, being drugged by that plant is the best thing to have happened to them in a long while.

He doesn’t know how long the two of them stay like that, staring at one another with panting breath and pupils blown wide, but he only registers that he’s increased the pressure and speed of his hand when Obi-Wan lets out a particularly needy whimper. Cody slips his thumb from the Jedi’s mouth, allowing him to speak.

“Cody,” - Stars, his voice sounds absolutely shattered - “please, I need–”

Obi-Wan trails off with a gasp as Cody traces a thumb over his slit, smearing precome over the head of his cock. It twitches in his grasp, every little gasp and shake telling Cody that he’s close.

Cody’s smirk, he’s sure, is positively wolfish as he leans down over the ragged Jedi. “Hm?” he prompts, tilting his head innocently. “What was that? Use your words, darling.”

He knows Obi-Wan well enough to be sure that if he had more of his wits about him, he’d be scowling (or attempting to scowl, at the very least) at such a condescending comment. Obi-Wan relishes submitting, but he never gives himself over too quickly, if he can help it. 

In this state, however, it seems he’s powerless to resist. His hips buck and he practically keens. “Please…” he repeats, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. When they reopen, Cody feels dizzy with the weight of the sheer need he sees in them. “I need you inside me.”

The swirling colours around them glow brighter, the cosmic dust in the air collapsing and being born anew into countless galaxies as Cody’s mind utterly blanks.

He feels himself throb, achingly hard and neglected under his armour as he stares, wide-eyed, at the obscene beauty of the man beneath him.

Withdraws his hand, he leans down to capture Obi-Wan’s mouth in a searing kiss, groaning as the Jedi sucks at his tongue in return. 

“Yes,” he finally manages as they part, his trembling hands working clumsily at unclasping his armour. “That’s my good boy. I’ll give you what you need.”

Obi-Wan helps him with removing each piece until he’s stripped down to his blacks, tugging impatiently at his shirt the second he has the opportunity. Cody would tease him for being so eager, but for once he’s just as desperate.

He kneels down in front of the Jedi, who props himself up on his elbows to watch Cody remove his belt with darkened, lust-drunk eyes. 

The wanton moan that leaves Obi-Wan’s lips as Cody removes his underwear, tossing it to the side, is one that, understandably, goes straight to his ego. The Jedi’s eyes are fixated between Cody’s legs, his tongue darting out to wet his lips and his breath coming a little faster. 

Cody always likes this look on his lover. It’s almost blasphemous, to reduce a Jedi to such a state - but if it is a sin, it’s a sin he revels in, wholeheartedly. 

“How are your hips?” Cody asks softly, trying to keep himself together enough to check in. His voice sounds hoarse, even to his own ears, his tone slightly shaking with the effort of holding himself back.

Obi-Wan, dishevelled and dazed, looks up to meet Cody’s eyes again, taking a moment to process the question, and then the intent behind it. It seems to be a difficult task for him to gather his words together.

“Well enough to take me as you please,” he answers, hushed and equally unsteady.

Neither of them are particularly young men, in body. The flexibility needed for certain positions is not as much of a given as it once was, but in their line of work, age is a privilege and not a promise. There’s a strange joy in getting to the point of creaking joints and aching bones - Cody will never say he wishes they were younger.

He nudges Obi-Wan's legs apart, settling between them. Their bodies, sweat-slicked, press close as Cody dips his head to kiss him once more, groaning at the feeling of their cocks sliding against one another between their bodies.

“You’re sure?” he murmurs, cupping the other man’s face with a calloused hand, sweeping a thumb over his cheek. 

It’s almost an indescribable feeling, but if Cody were to try and put it into words, he might say that flowers are blooming in his chest, his body a propagator for a whole garden of vibrancy, fed by the love he feels for his man. It’s as if every moment of love, of longing, of want that he’s ever felt has been concentrated into a single point, blossoming outwards within him now.

“I’m sure,” Obi-Wan affirms, smiling up at him with such softness it threatens to tear his heart asunder. 

Cody wonders what it is that Obi-Wan is feeling throughout all of this. Something equally as profound, he hopes - by the euphoric look on his face, it certainly seems like it.

With a final kiss, he draws back, carefully hooking Obi-Wan’s legs over his shoulders. 

Helix, Cody is certain, would kill the both of them on the spot if he knew they were making use of their bacta reserves to act as lube, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises.

Obi-Wan cries out as Cody slowly breaks him open, his fingernails digging into the skin of Cody’s back and dragging across the skin in an exquisite blend of pleasure and pain. Cody isn’t sure he’s ever felt more alive than he does in this moment.

It’s an experience that borders on the sublime; pushing into his lover until he bottoms out, his entire vision overtaken by ethereal, abstract hallucinations as his entire nervous system goes into overdrive.

Each drawn out thrust of his hips, dragging himself nearly fully out before sliding slowly back in, has Obi-Wan clinging to him tighter. He feels divine, his warmth surrounding Cody, enveloping him completely. Cody may be the one who takes charge more often in their intimate moments, but the feeling of complete and utter safety goes both ways.

“Force, Cody, Cody…” Obi-Wan pants, his voice wrecked and getting progressively more and more pitched with each desperate movement. 

Cody presses their foreheads together, sharing a single breath between them. It’s the only grounding sensation in a galaxy that’s spinning wildly away from them, drowning them under the force of its waves. He’s no longer sure if the pulsing he feels in his veins is from the plant’s effects or from the pure, unbridled lust he’s feeling - the two have become long since inextricable, now.

“I love you,” he whispers. His whole body shudders in pleasure, and he lets out a strangled, breathless gasp. “Stars, I love you so much.”

He isn’t certain if it’s a vision courtesy of his addled state, or if it’s actually real, but he sees tears slip down Obi-Wan’s cheeks. Mesh’la. Perfect.

“I love you too,” his Jedi whispers in response, wholly broken, desperate. 

Both of their bodies are trembling, careening ever closer to that inevitable, blissful edge.

Cody is very aware of how close he is to coming apart at the seams, but he needs to see Obi-Wan through first. Each gasp of air helps him to hold on a little longer, but he knows it won’t be long.

He reaches down between them, wrapping his hand around Obi-Wan’s length again and stroking him with urgency. 

“Be a good boy, darling,” Cody grits out, swallowing Obi-Wan’s ensuing whimper with a rough, needy kiss. The Jedi’s back arches, and Cody takes advantage of the new angle to thrust into him harder, chasing that mind-numbing pleasure he knows is so close that it's practically tangible for the both of them. “Come for me.” 

Obi-Wan’s body convulses instinctively at the order, spilling over Cody’s hand and clutching so tightly to him that they may as well be one singular being rather than two.

The sensation of his muscles tightening around him has Cody following so suddenly he has no time to prepare for it, the Commander letting out a sob of pure bliss as he presses his face into the crook of his lover’s neck, riding out their orgasms together in a haze of pure elation.

The galaxy explodes, but they are untouched. Perfect, transcendent, locked in their eternal embrace.

They lie there like that for an unknowable amount of time, their bodies still connected and twitching with the occasional aftershock.

Blinking slowly, Cody’s senses begin to return to him, piece by leisurely piece. A cool breeze passes over the hilltop, making him shiver. Dazed, he remembers that he has a physical form, and that said physical form is… cold. Ah, right. They’re in the middle of an open meadow, in the absolute dead of night. Clothes… might be a good idea.

He presses a kiss to Obi-Wan’s temple before pulling out. The Jedi lets out a quiet whine at the sensation, grunting as his legs are able to finally unfold, returning to their normal position. 

“You alright, love?” Cody asks with a sympathetic wince, passing him his robes. 

Obi-Wan hums, slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position with a quiet hiss of pain. The smile he gives Cody, however, is radiant. 

“Better than I’ve been in weeks, darling,” he murmurs sincerely. “A few aches and pains are–” he exhales slowly as he rolls his shoulders, attempting to alleviate the discomfort that’s built up in them. “... Are very worth it for something like that.”

He reaches over to capture Cody’s wrist, bringing his hand to his lips and brushing a chaste kiss to his knuckles - a markedly demure gesture, given the nature of the indecency they were engaged in just minutes ago. 

“You were right, my dear. I did need that. And it seems you did, too.”

Cody just smiles in response, quietly shuffling over behind him to help him with the intricate process of re-affixing his robes in the intricate way he likes, the action second nature to him now. Once they’re done, Obi-Wan helps Cody with his armour, gathering the various pieces that have been strewn about the meadow haphazardly and attaching them with a gentle hand, peppering kisses to his skin as he goes. 

“... There we are. Last piece,” he says softly once they’re done. He offers a hand out to help Cody up, which he takes gratefully.

Slowly, the two begin the ambling walk down the hillside, neither man in any particular rush to get back. A sense of satisfaction and contentment fills the air between them - the tension that had seeped through them before a thing of the past.

“It’s funny,” Cody says suddenly, breaking the silence a little ways into the stroll. The moon of this planet is bright, lighting the path ahead of them comfortably without the need for the artificial flashlight of his visor. “It seemed to… wear off, all of a sudden. At the end. I’m not sure why that is.”

Obi-Wan hums thoughtfully, passing a hand over his beard as he considers his answer. “I wondered at that, too,” he murmurs, casting a glance Cody’s way. “I expect it has something to do with the release of oxytocin altering the potency of the plant’s effects, but I can’t say for certain.”

The two share a smile.

“Well…” Cody murmurs, his hand finding his Jedi’s and interlinking their fingers. “If we needed to experiment with it more to be sure, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Obi-Wan gasps and raises a brow, faux-scandalised. “My dear Commander,” he says, shaking his head in reproach, though his eyes dance with amusement. “Surely you’re not suggesting a Jedi Master indulge in something so… forbidden?” 

Cody shrugs, a playful glint entering his eye. “Well, I mean, if it was in the name of science…” he suggests, innocently.

The Jedi laughs softly at that, squeezing Cody’s hand. “We’ll see,” is all he says.

Cody grins, feeling more relaxed than he has in a long time. 

It’s definitely not a ‘no’ He’ll take it.

✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: No beta readers this time, so instead I'll give a shout out to my wonderful fiancee for helping me with um. research!

This was my first time writing anything nsfw, so I really hope it was all okay!! Thank you so much for reading <3