#it took me so long to start it because nobody told me about thrawn and his special little guy

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

When I watched rebels and ahsoka I couldn’t have cared less about thrawn

I am now reading his book and I care about him and eli SO MUCH

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 09

Read Along on AO3 Here

<< Previous Chapter << >> Next Chapter >>

This time: Vah’nya pulls Ezra aside. Ivant gives Ezra some tips on fighting the Grysk.

Next time: Un'hee is displeased. Ezra stumbles upon a truth. Thrawn forces himself to think logically.

-/

Ezra didn’t sleep. He couldn’t. He was too tightly wound. After two hours of staring at his ceiling reeling from the day’s events, he slipped quietly into the hall. The door to Thrawn's sleeping quarters was open, the green indicator light spilling into the common space though the lights were off and the faint glow of Chiss eyes weren’t present in the dark. He must be asleep, Ezra thought, though he'd obviously left his door open to be sure he'd hear if Ezra had any issues overnight.

Knowing that, as silently as he dared, Ezra slipped out into the hall, using the Force to keep the hydraulic door from whooshing with sound in an attempt not to wake his roommate. He waited outside the door for a moment focusing. Nothing. No sound or disturbances. He exhaled, beginning to walk, no true destination in mind.

Thrawn had told him about Hera in an attempt to give him something positive to focus on. Ezra appreciated that more than he thought Thrawn could ever truly know. But in the face of something so dark, it made him fear. It drove him to terror, to think of something like the Grysk unleashed upon more innocents, of them reaching his home, his family.

It was something so evil, like the brief glimpses he’d had behind the Emperor’s facade. He shuddered and walked without any real direction. He took the lift up and down, walking each level’s halls. He wandered, knowing his way around the ship well enough to shift his attention inward.

Somewhere around the third or fourth pass through some of the corridors, a door opened behind him after he’d passed. “Your thoughts are loud, Ezra’Bridger,” Senior Navigator Vah’nya said in mild Basic, thick with both sleep and accent.

Ezra flinched, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry,” He said. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It is alright,” Vah’nya said. “You encountered a formidable enemy today,” She said. The way she spoke made Ezra feel like he was ten years younger than her, not three or four. “Do you wish… to talk about it?” Her glowing red gaze softened.

Sheepishly, Ezra said, “I only fought three of them, and I barely-”

“They are a dangerous, adaptable enemy. Your powers were very useful. The Admiral was impressed, though I doubt she said as much,” A smile curled the Navigator’s lips as she straightened out the messiness of her hair. “You will be trained, I heard as well.”

“Yeah,” Ezra said. “In a few hours. Captain Ivant said he’d show me.”

“Then you should sleep,” Vah’nya suggested.

He knew that, but, “I can’t.”

Nodding, the Navigator stepped back into her quarters, gesturing further inside. “I understand this,” She said. “Come.”

She disappeared further into her quarters, procuring a portable kettle that she filled from the kitchenette sink. Her quarters were far more luxurious than the ones he and Thrawn shared, not that Ezra was complaining. She switched to Cheunh, “I promise I will not give you that tea you hate. I only keep some here for Eli. I do not know why he likes it. It tastes like dirty water and iceberries.” They shared a grin.

“Thrawn likes it too,” He said. “Ivant brought him some earlier, while I was...” He frowned.

Vah’yna gestured to a short couch and a reclining chair that looked to be the piece of furniture most frequently used. Ezra chose the corner of a sofa with a deep blue blanket over the back of it. “It sounds like you have some binetim to share,” She said.

Ezra tried to figure out the word while the Navigator poured out hot water into two pale blue mugs. She placed one in front of Ezra before curling her fingers around her own and tucking her legs beneath her as she sat down on the recliner. The tea definitely smelled spicy and invigorating, but somehow soothing at the same time. It was more like the kind he’d remembered Kanan drinking, and that was enough to make his shoulders unwind from some of the tension that ratched them up towards his neck and chin.

“It means gossip,” Vah’nya smirked as she said the word in Basic. “What happened?”

“I was mostly out of it. But they were talking. I didn’t know the language.”

“Ah,” Taking a sip of tea, Vah’nya shook her head. “Sy Bisti. That was how they became linked, you know. Mitth’raw’nuruodo always struggled to learn Basic. Or, at least that’s how the Admiral tells it. Eli said Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s Basic was too good for him to need a translator, but he is too modest,” She laughed before focusing back on the topic at hand. “Was he there for long?”

“The Admiral called him away. I don’t really know.”

“Yes, they had to yell at me,” She smirked. “That is how I heard about your new lessons.”

“At you? What did you do?”

She shrugged, a playful yet elegant gesture. “I am too careless. They remind me that I am young and reckless all the time. I think they forget what it is like.”

“I know what you mean,” Ezra said, sipping his tea. It was good. “So why do you care about what Captain Ivant and Thrawn do?”

Vah’nya pursed her lips. “Ezra,” She said. When he blinked steadily at her, she sighed. “You are hopeless, Jedi. You can feel the beings around you far better than a Chiss. Surely you felt something.”

“I mean, when I focus on them," He agreed. "But I wasn't really focusing on anything." He did straighten a bit. "You think there's something going on."

"I am Mitth'raw'nuruodo's closest connection to Eli. He has not asked, but he wants to know."

"That's the third time you called him that."

"Eli? That is his name," Vah'nya reminded Ezra.

"His given name, that nobody here uses."

Vah'nya adjusted to sit sideways atop the recliner, one long leg pulled up to her chest. "We are close because of our time spent together, but, even before that, I was his first ally among the Chiss."

"I didn't know."

"His first year was difficult. He missed Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

"They were friends, then?" The Navigator gave him a flat stare. Ezra balked, "What? When I suggested it, Thrawn acted like he didn't know!"

Rolling her eyes shifted the glow of red from her cheeks to her forehead and back again. "They are hopeless," She said, exasperated. "Will Mitth'raw'nuruodo join you for your training session?"

"I think so," Ezra said. "Ivant invited him."

"It will be interesting," She said, then, "May I join you?"

-/

Thrawn wasn't surprised by the lack of Jedi in their quarters when he woke. Trusting he would adhere to instructions, the Chiss set out to prepare for his early morning. That he hadn't heard Bridger was ennerving, considering Thrawn felt like he'd hardly slept at all for all of his tossing and turning. That was unlike him. Though, it had been a very tumultuous few days. Faro, then Bridger, then Vanto. Thrawn let himself into the refresher and reached for the tablets he knew were kept on the counter. There was no denying his oncoming headache.

With far more complete access to the Chiss's archives aboard ship, Thrawn had spent the majority of his spare time pouring over the latest art and catching up on current events. The Chiss were a proud people. Their shortcomings were often masked behind events and festivals, something bright and gleaming to hide the fragility or cracks underneath. Of course, sometimes an event was simply that, nothing sinister or devious behind it, but outside of holidays or annual traditions, it was rarely so. Thrawn was better at picking out his own peoples' patterns than the Empire's, though he suspected he would never entirely master the political nuances.

Interestingly enough - or maybe uninterestingly, on this he wasn't sure - Vanto's "bedside" promotion to Captain, an unusual event in the first place, as one usually attained and held the rank of Commander within the Chiss ranks for at least five, but up to ten years, was nowhere within Chiss news streams. Vanto being a part of their military, while highly unorthodox, likely didn't sit well with some of the more well-to-do socialite families of the Aristocra.

The nature of Vanto's work, his unique skill set was of great use to the CDF. If there was a pattern, some way to identify Navigators within certain family ancestries, or some trend in the rise and set of their abilities, Thrawn knew Vanto would find them. He was not like Nightswan, a player on Thrawn's own level. Vanto's intelligence was subtle. He was a late bloomer, not because of stupidity but simply because he was not nurtured or put into the correct situations.

Thrawn was starting to think that perhaps his initial presumption had been incorrect: Nightswan had refused his offer to join the Chiss, and Vanto had been the consolation prize. A loss at Thrawn's side that would prove valuable to his people, but not the revolutionary genius he suspected they would value most of all.

While wholly the truth, that particular line of thought left Thrawn unsettled as he left his quarters. He had identified strengths in Vanto, had done his best to give those strengths experience and exercise to grow. But in Thrawn's wake, Vanto had been reduced to collateral damage and a consolation prize.

Not that one would know such a thing now.

Now, it was Vanto who would be the one to show Ezra Bridger, a human Jedi, a boy who had outsmarted him - and that still rankled a little, even if Thrawn knew it was for the best - how to fight the Grysk. Now, Eli Vanto outranked him in the CDF, despite being ten years his junior. Now, the Chiss lieutenants who served him did so with pride. His humanity was not a weakness to the Chiss who served him. It was a quirk, yes, but it was an advantage. It was inspiring. Though there had been few times he and Ezra were on the bridge during a mission - Ezra's studies, and Vanto's unwillingness to allow Thrawn closer than occupying the same starship considered - he had seen glimpses of his command style.

Eli worked just as hard as his crew. He listened and taught those who served with him, and his passion was rewarded with loyalty and results His insight and eye for patterns, concealed clues, all of it was honed, and frankly, impressive.

It was everything Thrawn had ever seen in him. A sharp mind, a warrior's spirit, and a kind, just heart. But it was more than that. Before, he'd seen Eli as a consolation prize: Not possessing the overwhelming genius of Nightswan, nor the tactical skills he himself boasted throughout his career. Thrawn had been a fool to ever think, even for the briefest of moments that he had settled when sending this man to the Ascendancy.

The training rooms his datapad directed him to were not any of the usual ones frequented by the Navigators. In fact, Thrawn suspected it was specifically used for purposes like these: specialized training and testing, private supplemental lessons. He stepped into the antechamber. The door closed quietly behind him. There was a large panel of two way transparisteel, so spectators could view the session by toggling the panel on the wall. It was not activated now, though he could hear the sound of stick-fighting through the open doors, one on each side of the antechamber, framing the viewing window.

Ezra was standing in the far doorway, watching with interest. He tilted his head to look at Thrawn, gave him a curt nod, then looked back into the room. Vah’nya’s grunt of exertion, the sound of training sticks smacking thickly against each other rapidly giving way to the sound of quick, light footfalls. Over Ezra’s shoulder, Thrawn saw the Senior Navigator get thrown back, losing her grip on her weapon. She glared up and across the room.

“Now what?” Vanto asked curtly. Thrawn blinked, surprised to hear that he was already there.

“They’ve been at this for almost an hour now,” Ezra said softly into the Chiss’s thoughts.

Vah’nya rose quickly, body coiled in a defensive pose, coiled like a predator waiting to strike. It was an unarmed combat style taught in the Chiss military, an advanced position. All Navigators were trained in self defense and basic combat as they reached their seventh year, with very elementary instruction before that. For a Navigator well into adulthood like Vah’nya, it made sense that she would be expected to be capable of the same skills expected of other soldiers. When her Sight left her, she would need to be proficient to continue her career within the military structure.

Though, that wasn’t all it was. Thrawn saw the narrowed gleam of her irises, the glow of her eyes illuminating the sheen of sweat on her face. Her training uniform had shorter sleeves and displayed the scarring Thrawn had noted on her arm. Both arms bore scarring to a degree. They looked like latticework from afar. Purposeful. Indicative of torture. He didn’t doubt she harbored scars elsewhere. Torture did not mean access to medicine like bacta that could heal almost any being without fail.

The Chiss style of combat was aggressive, nothing held back. Endurance was built with experience and pushing past one’s limits. The movements were swift and harsh, beautiful in a dangerous, practical way. Navigator Vah’nya rolled out of Thrawn’s view (Ezra had hardly yielded enough to allow him to see much of the room), so he decided to mimic the younger man’s pose and take up residence in the other doorway.

Vanto wore his full uniform except for his outermost tunic. It was cast off in the corner of the training room. His breaths were even and deep, mildly labored but not panting like Vah’nya’s. His features were completely smooth, though his eyes were sharp and alert despite their inherent darkness, their inability to see in the infrared. Without the thicker material of the outer tunic, Thrawn saw corded muscle. Vanto would never be hulking or giant, but it was clear that he was at or near peak physical condition. He was still of moderately lean physique, though his movements held the poise and grace indicative of practice.

He even fought like a Chiss. Thrawn felt his stomach warm with pride.

Vah’nya was clearly outmatched, and she knew it. Even so, she continued fighting until Vanto levied his weapon at her throat and her back was against the wall. When he stepped back, he rubbed his chin with a wry smile.

“Bet that’ll bruise,” He commented mildly. “You didn’t hold back.”

“That is what you think,” Vah’nya said primly. “We have not sparred in a while.”

The Captain hummed. “Add it to my calendar. You never mind scheduling anything else without my say-so.”

She grinned. “Perhaps I will,” She said with a smirk, before approaching Ezra with a nod. “I’ve… softened-” She looked to Vanto for confirmation. “I’ve softened him up for you,” She quipped, more sure of herself at the end.

“Let me know when you’re warmed up,” Vanto said. He inclined his head to Thrawn. “What have you told him about their fighting style?”

“They do not betray their origins,” Thrawn said neutrally. “His education on them is exactly the same as the Navigators.”

Ezra agreed, pushing off from the second door frame to enter the room. “They’re terrifying.”

“They are,” Captain Ivant agreed. “They prefer lightning guns and slugthrowers - I know you wanted a lightsaber, but apparently they only melt the pellets they shoot you with.” He circles the large room slowly, Ezra following his motions and settling into an open, defensive stance, his back to Thrawn. The Captain dips low, patting his ankle. “Higher ranking ones carry a ceremonial blade in their boots on the right side.”

Thrawn’s gaze snapped to Vanto. He produced the weapon. It was small, compact and dangerous. Vah’nya clenched her fists and did not flinch by will alone. “It’s what made these,” She said, indicating her arms.

“If they capture you, they will attempt to manipulate your mind. They will not drug you. They will use pain to lower your defenses.” He stepped forward and held out the blade. It was made of no metal Ezra or Thrawn had ever seen.

“How did you get this?” Ezra asked, speaking the question on Thrawn’s mind.

Vanto looked into Ezra’s eyes. “We were their captives, as I’ve been informed you know.” His gaze pinned Thrawn for a moment then swung back. “By what had to be done.” He turned his back and slipped the blade back into the concealed sheath just inside his boot. “Your combat skills are satisfactory, but you need work. Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo will be able to help you with that. I will show you how a Grysk fights when you press them in close combat.”

Thrawn couldn’t help the bitterness that curled in his lungs at Vanto's cool professionalism, like the previous night hadn’t happened at all. The Captain wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was being perfectly polite as usual. It just felt like their shared experiences were nothing. Things should be better this way, he tried telling himself. Vanto was doing everything Thrawn had hoped he’d do for the Ascendancy and then some. This should have been the singular bright spot in an otherwise failed mission. Try as he might, Thrawn could not convince good sense and rationality to win out.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

More Than Sufficient: Part 1

Grand Admiral Thrawn x Reader, Gender Neutral

Part 2

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Summary: Your relationship with Grand Admiral Thrawn leaves many things left unsaid.  But, when a mission goes awry, certain truths are bound to come out.

A/N: This turned into a monstrosity of a fic, so I decided to divide it into two parts.  Let me know if you want to see the next part or I should just leave it here. I also took more inspiration for the Timothy Zahn novels than Star Wars: Rebels. Hope that’s okay. PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!!

Word Count: 4.9K

           You had come to the conclusion that Grand Admiral Thrawn was the most indiscernible being in the galaxy. 

          From the moment you took your first step aboard The Chimera, he had held your fascination. He was a man whose presence alone commanded a room. But, unlike so many other officers you had worked under, he didn’t use this inherent gift to promote his own agenda or ego.  His sole purpose was duty; duty to his ship, his crew, and ultimately the Empire. It was a rare quality; one you didn’t think existed after spending so many years trying and failing to move through the ranks as a relative nobody from a planet most people hadn’t even heard of. But there he stood.  

          You could remember first meeting Thrawn, upon your arrival aboard The Chimera.  You had just been newly promoted to Captain, set to serve under Commander Eli Vanto.  While your ascendancy was long overdue, there was no denying the promotion was backhanded at best.  One the one hand, a captaincy. On the other, a captaincy on a Grand Admiral’s ship patrolling the furthest edges of space.  It was a ceremonial title at best, and your chances of ever leaving the Outer Rim were effectively slim to none. Still, you were determined to make the most of it.

          You reported in to Commander Vanto, handing in your qualifications and all the other necessary documents.  He greeted you with a smile, which felt genuine, and you were instantly put at ease.

          “I’m glad to have you aboard, Captain Y/L/N,” he said, shaking your hand.

          “Thank you, sir,” you said.  “I won’t let you down.”

          “I know you won’t,” he assured.  “Your former Commander seems to think very highly of you. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of all of this in no time.”

          You held back a wince.  Yes, your Commander did think very highly of you, but not enough to stand up for you when it came to your final placement.

          “Let’s hope his faith was not misplaced,” you said, a little stiffly.

          Commander Vanto caught your tone, his friendly demeanor taking on a more military like formality.

          “This is your captaincy; you get what you make of it.”

.           You straightened your back to full attention. You knew your duty. You just needed to make sure he knew it as well.  

          “Understood Commander.”

          Vanto blinked in surprise, taken aback by the force of your conviction; but, it quickly faded, replaced with a knowing smile.  

          The look made you pause.  You felt as if you had stumbled onto an inside joke.  But before you could ask, Vanto’s office door slid open behind you.

          “Grand Admiral,” Vanto greeted. “What can I do for you?”

          You stiffened, as a fresh set of nerves you hadn’t felt sense the academy washed over you. You didn’t look behind you, opting to stare straight ahead until you got your bearings.

          “I hoped I might get a chance to meet our new Captain before they went on duty,” the Admiral answered, smoothly. “It seems I came just in time.  About-face, Captain.”

          You did as you were told, and turned toward Grand Admiral Thrawn.

          You had known he wasn’t human before you arrived, but you had only gotten the bare minimum of descriptors as to his appearance.  What you had heard, didn’t do him justice.

          He was humanoid and stood tall at just over six feet. His face was all angles, giving him a sever, but oddly elegant appearance. The effect was only emphasized by his glowing red eyes contrasted against blue skin.  The final result threatened to take your breath away.  Luckily for you, military training overruled the impulse.

          “Captain Y/N reporting for duty, sir,” you said, giving him a tight salute.  

          If Thrawn noticed your initial reaction, he made no mention of it.

          “At ease Captain,” he said, nodding in acknowledgment.

          You did as commanded, but that didn’t keep your shoulders from holding tension.

          “I understand, you are newly arrived from The Tempest, is that correct?”

          He continued toward Vanto as he said this, taking a place beside the Commander.

          Vanto made no comment as Thrawn took your file in hand and started skimming through the pages.

          “Yes sir,” you said. “I was transferred here after my promotion.”

          “May I ask why?”

          “There were no Captain positions aboard The Tempest,” you answered automatically.  “I would be a redundancy.”

          “That is obvious,” Thrawn said, slowly. “What I am asking is, why were you sent to The Chimera? By your records, and accounts from your commanding officers, you have been promoted two years ago, or at the very least, been transferred to a ship patrolling the core worlds.

          You held back a grimace, but did a better job keeping it off your face, as suspicion became the more dominant emotion.  Either the Chiss had superhuman reading skills, or he had read your file before coming to meet you.

          “I’m sure they had their reasons,” you said, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

          “And those reasons are?”

          “I would be of more use here.”

          He looked up from the data pad then.  His red eyes staring intently into yours.

          “Do you truly believe that?” he asked.

          Years of personal experience told you to say yes.  

          Keep your head down. Appease to your commander’s ego. Do your job. That was how you got ahead in the Imperial Navy.

          But, you hesitated.

          Thrawn didn’t want the flattering answer.  He wanted to truth, the whole truth.  It was a request you’d never seen before.  One, you were obligated to answer.

          “No sir.”

          The intensity of his gaze never faltered.  The data pad was now on the table.  His hands were clasp behind his back, as he gave you his full, undivided attention.

          “Then what is it you do believe, Captain?”

          You stood stock still, his eyes rooting you to the spot. To your surprise, you weren’t intimidated.  You were emboldened.

          “I believe I don’t have the right last name,” you said, without so much as blinking. “I believe promoting me to Captain over another, more connected officer, would be career suicide for my superiors.  I believe they sent me here because they could no longer excuse my lack of rank given my skill set, but they couldn’t place me in the way of, or over, someone else. I believe it’s their way of punishing me for daring to be more.”

          Thrawn tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing. “And do you see it as a punishment?”

          “No sir,” you said, simply. “I see it as my job.”

          He didn’t say anything for a long moment, taking the time to scan every inch of your features.  You kept still, allowing him to conduct his examination without hindrance. Slowly, his eyes came back to yours.

          “I think you will do well here, Captain.”

          You weren’t sure if you imagined it, but you could had sworn you caught the corner of his lip twist ever so slightly upward.  

          “I can only promise to do my best, sir,” you replied.

          “From what I’ve been able to gather, your best will be more than sufficient.”

          That had been over a year ago, and things had inevitably changed since then.  You had settled nicely into the position of Captain, just as Commander Vanto had predicted. The Chimera’s reputation had grown, making it a highly sought-after, if unspoken, position for up and coming officers. But more than that, your relationship with Thrawn had changed.

          While he was still undoubtedly your superior, you had developed a more personal connection with the Chiss.  One might call it friendship, or, as close to friendship as Thrawn seemed capable of, but it didn’t quite fit.  There were too many moments neither of you spoke of; an underlining tension in the air which hinted at something more, but what that more was, you couldn’t name.

          For yourself, you knew your initial fascination had transformed into deep adoration. Everything from his mind to his voice to his glowing red eyes drew you in. You found yourself wanting to be near him, whether it was in the field or simply standing on the bridge. You wanted to hear his thoughts and opinions on everything from art, to planetary ecosystems to simple observations. You wanted to know him, to truly know him, and you wanted him to truly know you in turn.

          There were times you thought he might feel the same.  He would ask you a question a little too personal or call you to the bridge for no other purpose other than company. More than once you felt his eyes on you as you walked along the lines of the control boards only to find they were directed somewhere else when you turned to look.  

          You didn’t think it was your imagination.  You had never been one for wishful thinking. But, Thrawn wasn’t giving you any hints one way or another.  It was just how he was.  

          Besides, even if by some miracle he did feel the same way, duty would dictate neither of you to do a thing about it.  He was still your superior.  His duty remained with the ship, not his emotional attachments. The preservation and expansion of the Empire was his ultimate purpose, one he would pursue until the end of his days.

          As for you, your duty was to help see his goals come to fruition, no matter the cost.  And you would, but perhaps not for the sake of the Empire.  In the deepest part of your heart, you knew you found purpose in Thrawn’s rare smile when he assured you, your best was more than sufficient.

          It was why you now found yourself on an alien world, walking beside him as you came to meet a contact with information on a local rebel cell.

          “You don’t approve of me being here,” Thrawn said, after a prolonged silence.

          It wasn’t a question, and you didn’t treat it as one.

          “I didn’t think that was for me to decide.”

          “It wasn’t,” he conceded, “but I still wish to know why.”

          It was a redundant question.  He knew why you didn’t want him planet side, and you knew he had a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he decided to accompany you.  If anything, that was his real talent; the ability to provide a clear and reasonable answer for everything. It was infuriating. But he was giving you a chance to air your grievances. You wouldn’t dismiss it.

          “You know I’m perfectly capable of fulling this mission on my own,” you said, simply. “Not to mention a Grand Admiral’s position should be on the bridge of his ship and not in the field.”

          “Are you worried about me, Captain?” he asked.  His voice sounded innocent enough, but you couldn’t help but feel he was teasing you.

          “Concerned,” you amended.  “I’d be lucky to find myself serving as a janitor of a garbage freighter, if you get killed.”

          A half smile came to his lips, satisfied your sarcasm was still intact.  

          “You needn’t concern yourself,” he assured. “I am just here to observe.  Nobody will even notice I’m there.”

          You fought the urge to roll you eyes.  Apparently the Chiss caught the motion as he raised an eyebrow in your direction.

          “Does something amuse you?”

          “I mean no offense sir, but you don’t exactly blend in.”

          “I’m not human, that’s enough to blend in to most places along the Outer Rim,” he countered, easily.  

          “That may be true, but that doesn’t stop you from being a warrior among thugs.”

          He blinked, staring at you with a look that might have been described as surprise.

          A sudden sense of pride filled you.  It wasn’t easy to catch Thrawn off guard, even for just a moment.

          He recovered quickly, inclining his head toward you.  “You flatter me.”

          “I make a statement of observable fact,” you corrected.

          His eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no denying the amusement behind the action.

          “So, what would you suggest I do to properly blend in among thugs?” he asked.

          You looked to him, examining his features closely, as you attempted to form the image of a brutish Thrawn in your mind.

          Thrawn observed you as well, patiently awaiting your answer.

          After a beat, you shook your head.  “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

          “We shall have to try our luck then.”  

          This time you did roll your eyes.  Knowing Thrawn, he had everything already planned with every contingency accounted for.  Luck would have nothing to do with it.

          You came into sight of the cantina you were meant to meet your contact.  It was what you could expect from a disreputable establishment on the outskirts of space. The building was worn down, dirty, and covered in the scars of blaster fire.  The area around was barren with only a hand full of aliens loitering around the entrance. Thrawn was right about one thing, being an alien did help one blend in.  

          “Orders sir?”

          “This is your mission Captain,” Thrawn answered.  “I follow you.”  

          You nodded in acknowledgement, trying to push down the sudden rapid beating of your heart.

          “I enter first.  Wait ten seconds before following.  And make sure to take a position not too far from the door in case things go south.”

          “Understood.”

          You gave one more nod, took a breath, and walked toward the cantina.

          Your presence was all but ignored as you stepped inside. Given your civilian clothing, and lack of a visible weapon, you didn’t hold anyone’s interest for long. All the same, you adjusted the bag on your shoulder, mentally taking stock of the blaster, riot baton, and communicator inside.

          You scanned the room.  An assortment of about five aliens and three humans were playing sabacc near the center of the room.  The walls were lined in mostly empty booths. Two Duros sat in one corner, facing the door.  A few more Rodians and Devaronian were scattered here and there, and a Trandonshan stood at the bar.  You stepped further in, finally spotting your contact sitting in a booth on the left side of the entrance.  Taking an easy pace, you came toward him.

          “Sisk,” you greeted, taking a seat.

          Sisk met you with a distracted half nod.  He was a small, ill looking man who looked like he was about to collapse at any moment. His fidgeting hands did nothing to help this image. Still, you couldn’t deny the information he found on the rebels more than made up for it.

          “Were you followed,” Sisk asked, glancing around the room at any new comers.

          “No,” you said, keeping your voice calm.  “What do you have?”

          He opened his mouth, but stopped himself when the door opened once more.

          “Who is that?” he asked in a sharp whisper.

          You didn’t turn your head, only glancing to the side to see Thrawn had made his appearance.

          He took a seat opposite to where you were; close to the door was you ordered, while still providing him a clear view of the entire space.

          Unlike you, however, his entrance did not go unnoticed. Two of the humans at the sabaac table took pause to stare down the Chiss.  One of the Rodians, adjusted the blaster on his belt, while the Trandonshan stepped away from the bar, taking a seat in the middle of the room.  

          Thrawn, for his part, paid them no mind, making himself comfortable in the corner.  

          You held back a curse.  You could only hope Thrawn had prepared for this possible reaction.

          “He’s with me,” you assured.

          Sisk’s eyes widened, his entire body getting ready to bolt. “He’s drawing too much attention.”

          “Which means nobody is paying attention to us,” you said, suddenly understanding Thrawn’s plan the moment the words left your lips.  “Now tell me, what you have.”

          Sisk hesitated, but as the patron’s eyes remained with Thrawn, and far away from you, he relaxed.

          “Fulcrum is here,” he said, keeping his voice low.

          It took everything in you to keep the shock off your face.  “Where?”

          “I don’t know. I don’t know who he is.”  He glanced around the room. “But people have been talking.  They’re going to make a move against the Empire’s mining operation here.”

          Your brow furrowed in confusion.  “But, there is no mining operation here.”

          Sisk shrugged.  “Apparently there is.  Unless I’ve been imagining all the all the shipments coming in and out.”

          You remained silent, your mind reeling from the information.  

          A secret mining operation?  Did Thrawn know about this? Was that why he insisted on coming with you?  You shook the thought away, forcing yourself to back to the matter at hand.

          “And you think Fulcrum is the one behind it all?”

          “Who else could it be?”

          You paused.  You knew many rebel spies had taken the title of Fulcrum over the years.  You doubted any of them would be careless enough to come in person to oversee an operation.  However, if this was as big as Sisk was making it out to be, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

          You opened your mouth to ask another question, when you interrupted, by the distinct bang of blaster fire.

          You dropped to the ground, tipping over the table for cover.  But, as you straightened up, you found none of the bolts were directed toward you.

          Peaking over the table, you saw Thrawn taking his own cover behind an over turned table.  The eight sabacc players and Trandonshan had opened fire as the rest of the patrons scattered.  

          Two of the aliens were already down, but judging by the fact they were still breathing, Thrawn had set his weapon to stun.

          “We need to go!” Sisk snapped.  

          “Stay here!”

          But Sisk wasn’t about to listen. Without so much as a second glance, he bolted to the door.  That was his mistake.  One of the humans spotted him, and turned his blaster around. You pulled out your own, and fired, hitting him square in the shoulder, but it was too late.  Sisk went down, blood leaking forms his skull.  You ducked back under cover, as a volley of fire came in your direction.  

          So much for the element of surprise.

          “Stun only!”  a man’s voice called.  “He wants the human alive!”

           Your lip tightened as four facts presented themselves.  One, the man in charge was taking orders from someone else. Two, his orders were to take you alive, but not necessarily Thrawn.  Three, Thrawn wanted to take the men alive for questioning.  And four, clearly Thrawn knew more than he initially let on.  You tried to not let the last fact bother you.  You had your mission, and your orders.

           You lowered your blaster, and pulled out the riot baton from your bag.  Glancing around your cover, you took quick stock of the situation.  Two humans, one Trandonshan, one Rodian, one Gran, and one Twi’lek. They were all in the center of the cantina. The Rodian and Gran were facing you, while the others tried to advance on Thrawn. About five feet lay between you and the rebels.

          You did your best to stay under cover, as you turned your body around, placing your feet square against the underside of the table. Putting your whole body into it, you rolled back and kicked.

           The table skidded across the room toward the rebels. For a split second, they lowed their weapon in surprise. That half second was all you needed.

          You rolled to your feet, and, using the edge of the table as leverage, swung yourself over the side, kicking your feet straight into the Rodian’s chest.  He stumbled back, knocking into the Twi’lek on his way down. You landed on the floor, but you didn’t stay there long.  Spinning your leg out, you caught the underside of the Gran’s knees, taking them down too, giving you enough time to get to your feet.  By then, the Rodian had recovered, just in time to get the back hand of your baton, sending him straight to the floor with a hard crack. With your free hand, you pulled out your blaster again, turning your attention to the Gran attempting to get back up.  You hit his leg and shoulder for good measure, forcing him to sink back to the ground.

           You spun to the others, only to feel a searing pain rip through your left shoulder, forcing you to drop your blaster.  The Twi’lek had his weapon leveled ready to take another shot, only to fall forward as Thrawn caught him from behind with a stun blast.  

          The victory was short lived.  There were two left standing; the Trandonshan and one human, you presumed to be the leader.  The other human had apparently fallen to Thrawn’s fire.  

          The Trandonshan went for Thrawn, while the leader advanced on you.

          Forcing down the pain, you swung your baton, missing him by an inch as he took at step back.  He was fast, despite him being almost as tall as Thrawn and twice the weight. He was also strong. You took another swing, only for him to block the blow with his arm, without so much as a grunt of pain.  

          Before you could blink, he took hold on your arm, twisting it up and back, forcing you to drop your baton.  The new pain erupting in your right arm, forced you to your knees as you struggled out of his grip.  Your left arm was the only thing keeping you upright, but it wouldn’t last long. Blood continued to pour from your shoulder.  You were staring to get dizzy.  

          In a last ditch effort, you went limp.  The sudden loss of strain made the man loosen his grip just enough for you to break free.  Your landed chest first on the floor, and pushed yourself back between the man’s legs.  You jumped back to your feet.  But, the man was quicker as he spun back around.  With a hard crack that made your head spin, he swung his fist straight across the jaw.

          Before you even knew what was happening, he had an arm around your throat and a blaster pressed against your head.

          “That’s enough!” the man barked.

          Blinking back the pain, you saw Thrawn standing above the fallen Trandonshan; a pool of blood seeping from its chest.  Thrawn, for his part, appeared unscathed, save for slightly disheveled hair and a line of blood coming from his eyebrow.  

          “Not Fulcrum, I take it,” Thrawn greeted, keeping his blaster level with the man’s forehead.

          “Not Fulcrum,” the man confirmed.  “Though, they said you might come.  Didn’t believe it.”  

          “Well as you can see, I am here,” Thrawn said.  “What is it you want?”

          “Me? I just want to kill every last Imperial I can get my hands on,” the man said, darkly.  “Fulcrum, on the other hand, wanted us to plug a leak, and capture a spy. If you showed up, that was just a bonus. They had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to resist looking into an off-record Imperial mining operation.”

          Thrawn didn’t even blink, but you couldn’t help but notice the tension now residing in his shoulders

          “I take it your orders weren’t to kill me, then.”

          “No,” the man confessed through gritted teeth.  “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth the try.”

          Thrawn’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.  If there was one thing, he tolerated less than incompetence, it was disobedient incompetence.  

          “That was your mistake.”  He took a step forward.

          “Don’t!” the man warned, pushing the blaster further into your temple for emphasis. “Even if you stun me, I can still blow your little lackey’s brains out.”

          “That’s my Captain you’re threatening,” Thrawn corrected.  “For that alone, I cannot allow you to leave this place.”

          His tone was as cold as ice, but something was off.  It held a level of emotion you had never heard from him before.  One that sent a primal fear straight into your heart.  

          “I don’t care if they’re the Admiral of the entire damn Imperial navy,” the rebel snapped. “Drop your weapon.”

          The danger didn’t leave Thrawn’s eyes, even he stole a glance in your direction.

          You straightened up as best you could, trying to tell him without words you weren’t afraid.  

          Take the shot, you wanted to scream.  My life doesn’t matter.  Finish the mission.  Take the shot.

          His expression gave away nothing.  He shifted his gaze back to your captor.  

          You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the coming shot. Everyone died. Here was as good a place as any.

          But nothing happened.  

          A beat passed, then another.  You opened your eyes, just in time to see Thrawn lower his weapon.  

          Your eyes widened in shock.  Thrawn didn’t allow anything to stand in his way.  You had seen him sacrifice whole squadrons of Tie-Fighters just to gather data on an enemy’s weakness. What were you but another obstacle to overcome?

          “That’s better,” the man said.  “Now, place your communicator and weapon to the ground, nice and easy.”

          Thrawn did so, keeping his eyes steady on the man before him.

          “Slide them over.”

          His jaw clenched, but, once again, did as he was told. The devices landed right at your feet.

          “Pick them up,” the man ordered, adjusting his blaster to the back of your head.

          You knelt to the ground, daring to make brief eye contact with your commander.

          The message he was trying to convey was simple enough.

          Don’t die.  

          Your stomach twisted, as you tried to send some amount of reassurance. Your captor didn’t give you much time, as he quickly pulled your back to your feet and yanked the devices out of your hand, tucking them both into his belt His arm went around your throat once again, keeping you up right against his chest.

          “Alright, now here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, sounding much calmer than before. “I’m going to take the Captain with me on a little ride.  You so much as step foot outside this door before we’re clear of the trees, and I will kill them.  Do you understand?”

          “I understand,” Thrawn repeated back.

          “As for you,” the man said, tightening his grip on your throat, “play nice, and you might be able to walk away from this instead of crawl.”

          You gritted your teeth.  You doubted that.  The moment you were clear of the trees, the rebel was going to put a blaster bolt through your skull.  Too many of his friends were either dead or captured for him to do anything else.  

          You turned your eyes to Thrawn, who seemed to come to your same conclusion as well.  It was now, or never.

          “Well that’s the problem,” you said. “I’ve never been one to play nice.”

          With that, you threw your head back, breaking the man’s nose with a satisfying crunch.  

          His blaster hand tilted away from you just enough for you to grab and pull it down.  Unfortunately, he had enough control to twist the end into your right shoulder, as his grip tightened around your body.  You twisted and pushed, but he kept hold.  You let out a growl of frustration, the longer this took the faster he would recover from your initial attack. There was only one thing left for you to do.  

          Taking hold on his blaster hand, you pulled the trigger. The bolt tore through your right shoulder and straight into the man’s chest.  Both of you fell to the ground as the man let go.

          You landed hard on your side, sending a fresh wave of pain down your arm.  Your vision was spinning, as the world flashed in and out of darkness.  

          You could just make out Thrawn striding toward the pair of you. You watched as he pressed his boot hard into the man’s wound, making him cry out in pain.

          A feral rage had taken over Thrawn’s features. It seeped into every pour of his being. His red eyes looked as if they were truly on fire as the rest of his body took on the stance of a beast about to slaughter its prey.  

          “I won’t talk,” the man said, his voice shaking in sudden fear.

          Thrawn said nothing for a long while.  Slowly, almost casually, he picked up the fallen blaster, his eyes never leaving the man under his boot.

          “No,” he said.  “I don’t believe you will.”

          With calculated precision, Thrawn fired a single shot into the man’s forehead.  

          You blinked.  Thrawn had left the man’s side, his face now leveled inches from yours as he scanned your features.  The fire was gone out, replaced with a softer, but still foreign expression. You felt your head lift ever so slightly off the ground.  You wondered if Thrawn was the one doing it.  

          “Captain,” he said, in a firm, but gentle tone. “Eyes on me.”

          You did your best, but you were so tired.  You just needed to rest your eyes for a moment.

          “That’s an order.”

          You blinked back the darkness, but it wasn’t doing any good.

          “I’m trying, sir,” you said.  Your voice came out quieter than you intended.  When had it become so weak?

          “Captain—”

          “I did my best,” you managed, hoarsely.  

          You could no longer make out his expression, as your vision swirled. You were only vaguely aware of a gentle warmth cradling your cheek, and the slight brush of a thumb against your skin.  

          “You’re best was more than sufficient,” he assured.

          A small smile came to your lips.

          He called your name then.  Not your rank, or title, your name.  It was the last thing your heard before darkness took you.

Permanent Tag List: @sassy-satanunicorns, @roseslovedreams, @stargeek727, @kaliforniacoastalteens, @yourwonderbelle, @steve-thotgers, @stellasakura31

[sinningsquire]

Thawing

My first foray into the Thranto ship - and already a multichapter, stars have mercy with me. 

Inspired by @flukeoffate ‘s amazing art. I took one look at it and this sort of... happened. 

--- (Part 1/2, 2593 words)

Eli very nearly danced the last length of corridor to his old quarters on the Thunder Wasp, eyes glancing every so often to his own reflection in the transparisteel viewports. Precisely, to the shiny new rank plaque of Lieutenant Commander.

Luckily, at this late hour, there was no one to reprimand him for the non-regulation spring to his steps. He would be probably called drunk - a just assumption, even if a wrong one. Eli almost regretted he didn’t go out to celebrate before he decided to drop down to the Naval Headquarter’s medbay. Now there were no drinks for him until the topical anesthetic wore off. His arm was already beginning to smart a little with every pull of his sleeves across the skin.   

Well, he could always celebrate properly when they got to the Chimaera. The officer lounge there was surely better stocked than anything their current station had to offer. An I-class Star Destroyer. An assignment of dreams.

The door beeped and slid open. Eli didn’t need to look who it was - there was only one person with the entry code to Eli’s personal quarters. Of course Thrawn had already started packing - never one to waste an evening - and there were quite a lot of flimsi notes with scribbled-on translations that somehow found their way into Eli’s room.

Eli readjusted his new rank plaque before turning towards the door, wide grin on his face. He hadn’t even yet properly congratulated Thrawn on his promotion, but then, Eli thought, getting a new rank stripe to his sleeve was nothing new for the Chiss.

Eli was greeted with a sight of the newly minted Commodore standing stock-still in the doorway, the line of his shoulders somehow even straighter than usual, his face wearing an expression of surprise - the clearest Eli’s ever seen on him. It was really minuscule, but for Thrawn it was equivalent to gaping. Oh wow, Eli thought with inner exhilaration, seeing me with an actual rank must be quite the shock after so much time. That bantha fodder pilot Gimm who taunted Eli just a few weeks ago about still being stuck as an ensign would have been picking his jaw from the floor by now.

Thrawn’s nostrils flared wide on an inhale as he finally stepped further into the room.

“Commander Vanto,” he inclined his head, slightly narrowed eyes sweeping him up and down before widening again on another deep inhale. That one lifted his shoulders a bit and tightened the fabric spanned over his broad chest. There wasn’t any much room as it was, Eli thought with a pang of long-suppressed envy, Thrawn wore his shirts fitted so closely that it looked like the slightest physical exertion would make him burst out of the seams, and Eli learned long ago not to imagine what sight would that make lest he became unprofessional on duty. But now, Thrawn’s chest was heaving as if he’d run an extra round of exercises and Eli really shouldn’t be staring–

“Commander Vanto,” Thrawn repeated, and that was new, Eli registered over his giddiness. Thrawn never stuttered over his words.

“You smell… differently.”

Oh. That was… Eli mentally stomped down on his hackles, refusing to let them rise. This wasn’t a smug Coruscant bully dropping remarks about a Wild Space stinkies, taunting Eli that no officer insignia could ever cover the smell of a barn. Thrawn’s observations about Eli never carried any judgement, he always meant precisely what he said. And what he was saying was… wait, what exactly could he smell? The Chiss had keener hearing, he could see infrared, what if their nose was finer too and Thrawn had been suffering all these months cramped on ships with people sweating in their uniforms, stars, it got even to Eli sometimes and kriff, he couldn’t be smelling nice after a whole day of his nerves strung–

Eli was snapped out of his panic by another step Thrawn took, closer. Whatever Thrawn  was smelling, it couldn’t be too repulsive. Eli tried to subtly inhale his own scent but couldn’t discern anything apart the persistent laundry detergent and… medicinal disinfection. From where they swiped his skin clean before the quick operation.

That was it? As far as Eli could remember, Thrawn had never been down to medbay - it would be pointless of him to be there after all, they had no medical knowledge regarding his species. And Thrawn always seemed to be in the peak of health, keeping himself fit and… that was the path Eli’s thoughts really shouldn’t be taking right now.

Eli forcibly dragged his eyes back up to meet Thrawn’s and gave a half-shrug, half-smile. “Sorry. Medbay smell can be rather clinging.”

Thrawn’s face immediately transformed to one of mild concern - another subtle shift, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but to Eli it looked like Thrawn was going through a rollercoaster of emotions tonight.

“Are you unwell?” Thrawn asked, taking another step closer, again stopping himself as if hesitating. Eli frowned. Could the Chiss perhaps be… allergic to the antiseptic?

“No, I’m fine,” he assured Thrawn. He rolled his shoulder to demonstrate - the smarting of his arm was already subsiding, the keyhole cut healing quickly under a bacta patch. “See? It’s nothing–”

Two quick steps and Thrawn was right in his space, taking Eli’s elbow in a gentle but firm hold and his gaze zeroing on Eli’s arm as if he could see through the fabric of the uniform sleeve. Thrawn’s fingers passed over the little bump of the bandage beneath the tight uniform and Eli flinched - healing or not, the wound was still fresh, the skin around tender and further sensitized by the antiseptic.

“You’ve been hurt,” Thrawn stated, puzzled. Eyes raked over Eli, intense, taking in every detail: his unruffled hair, pristine uniform, no signs of a fight. Eli swallowed, once again grateful for his naturally darker skin to hide his blush. Being subjected to such a scrutiny long ago ceased to be a source of discomfort or embarrassment. Now it was a carefully hidden ecstasy, if for the wrong reason...

“How?”

Eli should have stepped away. But the hold Thrawn had on him felt so good - warm, safe - that he stayed put, feet locked into place. He even put his hand over Thrawn’s, in what he hoped was a calming manner, willing his fingers not to tremble, not to linger. He could take this, couldn’t he? Enjoy a little show of concern from his superior officer, from his tentative friend, pretend just for a little while that it meant more. Thrawn wouldn’t notice. His astounding observational skills fell utterly flat when it came to reading human affections, and Eli had years to practice how to hide them from him.

Thrawn’s nostrils flared wide again with another laboured breath, and from this close Eli could make out the deep red of his pupil amidst the bright red glow of his irises, widening and narrowing in what must have been the rhythm of Thrawn’s heartbeat. It was so quiet Eli could hear his own heart hammering in his chest, and kriff, if he could hear it Thrawn most definitely could too. Eli needed to put some distance between them, explain that it was just a routine medical procedure and send Thrawn back to packing–

“I thought this would bring you some measure of protection,” Thrawn murmured, touching briefly the rank plaque on Eli’s chest. The remote whisper of pressure spread heat under Eli’s skin, coiling low in his gut. He held his breath, afraid that if he let it out, it’d be embarrassingly loud.

“But you always told me I didn’t understand politics,” Thrawn continued, voice low but clipped, as if angry with himself. “Did I expose you instead? Have you faced resentment - jealousy - have you been attacked because of this?”

“What? No - listen, it’s not that,” Eli rushed to calm him. “Nobody hurt me, it’s just a simple medical procedure. Routine treatment.”

“Oh. Vaccination shot?”

“Something like that,” Eli agreed, because his brain was too foggy fighting a losing battle with arousal to focus on the details. And then it gave up on rational thoughts entirely when Thrawn kissed him.

Thrawn. Kissed. Him. Eli’s eyes fluttered shut. Lips, cool and softer than he ever imagined they would be, briefly brushing over Eli’s unmoving ones, stunned, frozen.

“I'm glad,” a whisper against his lips and then another stolen touch, too short, as Thrawn no doubt noticed Eli’s unresponsiveness and came to a conclusion, logical and entirely wrong.

“Forgive me,” he started to pull back. “I read this incorrectly.”

That faintest tremble in that normally so flawless voice was what finally snapped Eli out of his stupor. He latched onto Thrawn’s shoulders to keep him close and chased after the kiss, blindly following the tartberry taste of those dark blue lips, not daring to open his eyes because this? This was a dream, must be. The sighing of that silky voice, the hitch in that usually so collected breathing was something Eli had been fantasizing about for months.

He had already been addicted to the shape of Thrawn’s mouth so feeling it part under his? Eli’s heart was beating somewhere around his throat, his breath short and shallow as if he was drowning. He was distantly aware that he was stumbling forward, knees turned to jelly and Thrawn’s strong arms around his the only thing supporting him. His head was spinning and that was just a kiss, stars, he shouldn’t have so much to drink…

...wait. He didn’t. He didn’t drink at all at the brief cocktail party after the promotion ceremony because he already wanted to see a good surgeon while they were still planetside and alcohol would contraindicate the anesthetics.

And yet, when Eli opened his eyes, he couldn’t focus. The usually dimmed light of his quarters were suddenly unbearably bright, casting technicolor shimmer around Thrawn’s face. Oh, what a lovely face. Open like never before, shining with unguarded admiration and purpose that Eli never saw directed at himself with such intensity... was that want? Or was it just a mirror of Eli’s, the want he could feel thrumming in his veins, making his thoughts sluggish. His whole body throbbed and shook with a terrible need to claw at Thrawn’s immaculate uniform, to get at his skin, to see for himself if he was cool to touch everywhere, what colour he flushed, what he tasted like…

Eli wanted, and the want was making his throat go dry and his vision foggy and the small voice at the back of his mind screaming at him that this was wrong almost inconsequential. He shook his head to clear it. It was wrong. Commodore Thrawn was still a good couple of ranks above Eli. Never once in their years together had he shown even the slightest interest in Eli as a… not like this. Thrawn had never as much as checked Eli’s ass in uniform, Eli was sure of it. And out of nothing, Eli was being kissed within an inch of his life and cool fingers were sneaking towards the clasps in Eli’s collar. Eli fought the impulse to tilts his head back for better access and rested his forehead against Thrawn’s chest for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts.

“What is this,” he breathed, not really a question. He needed affirmation, that wasn’t about to make a terrible mistake.

Thrawn’s body temperature ran lower than human but his breath was hot on the shell of Eli’s ear, the contrast almost unbearable.

“Are you not aware? Is this your first…. ” and Thrawn hesitated, finishing in Sy Bisti. The word was not what Eli expected and for a moment he thought he must have overheard.

“Thawing?”

“Is that not a correct equivalent in your language?” Thrawn passed his fingers through Eli’s hair and Eli nuzzled his head into the gesture, rubbing his face over the rough fabric of Thrawn’s uniform and inhaling deeply. Oh stars, how had he never noticed how amazing the Chiss smelled? Whatever cologne he used, Eli was perfectly willing to breathe that to the end of his days. Damn, he was getting distracted again. Thrawn was asking something.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he confessed.

“Perhaps... “ and Thrawn offered another word, confusing Eli even more.

“Blossoming,” he translated, “and no, we don’t call our first time having sex like that, and it’s not even my–”

Eli regretted his crudeness when Thrawn suddenly pulled away, those inescapable red eyes glowing at him with a completely different kind of intensity.

“That medical procedure,” he brushed his thumb over the bandaged spot on Eli’s arm again, “did it by a chance affect your pheromones excretion levels?”

“My what?” Eli blinked. Pheromones? Did humans even have such a thing? He dimly recalled a biology lesson on some rudimentary biological functions. Pheromones were of importance with some alien species, he knew, but not really significant with humans, that’s why perfumes were invented, when human sense of smell grew too weak to pick up on his own species’ smell.

Eli simply had his subdermal birth control implant removed, in order to clear his system from the old sterilization agents before he would get a new one, like every high-ranking officer. He told Thrawn as much, in as clear terms as he could muster. It was so hard to think in the comfortable circle of Thrawn’s arms. Couldn’t they stop talking and go back to kissing?

“Birth control?”

Okay. Apparently Thrawn’s thirst for knowledge overshadowed everything else. Eli chuckled ruefully. Time for another lecture, and maybe then they will get back to kissing.

“Everybody has one,” he explained. “So we wouldn’t knock up a civilian on shore leave or something. The ones for Cadets and junior officers are the cheap stuff though. I am glad I’m finally eligible for one without the side effects,” he giggled.

Having his libido dampened during his Academy days was fine, there was too much studying to really bemoan the lack of sex drive, which was probably why the Cadets were given these implants in the first place. Nobody wanted a place housing hundreds of teenaged youths running rampant with sexual frustration. But then he didn’t know he’d be stuck with the old implant for years.

“So they affect your… hormone levels?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Eli was never exactly keen on biology.

“And everyone has them?”

“Well, obviously not the married ones...” but then, married officers tended to retire from active duty in the Outer Rim, where Thrawn’s assignments have been up to now. “But yeah, pretty much everyone you ever met probably had one.”

“Oh.”

And just as abruptly as it began, the crazy and wonderful dream Eli had been in for the past couple of minutes ended. Thrawn jumped - jumped - back to the respectful distance and when Eli, reeling from the loss, reached for him, he took one more cautious step back. It hurt Eli in a way he didn’t know a person could hurt.

“I apologize. I have gravely misjudged the situation.”

And just like that, Thrawn was out. The door slid shut behind him before Eli could as much as cry out to stop him.

Eli drew a shaky breath. The heady, joyous feeling was gone, the recycled air of his quarters smelling just as stale as it always has. Vision blurring with unwanted tears, Eli stumbled a couple of steps to his bunk bed and sat down heavily, putting his head in his hands.

What the kriff has just happened?

(to be continued)