#part one of the codywan gets progressively closer series

[is-there-an-echo-in-here]

I Would Give You the Sky

Inspired by this post by @legobenkenobi

Read below or read on Ao3

Part 2 now available!

. . .

His Name (Part 1/3)

Commander Cody was a man of discipline and diligence and Obi-Wan had yet to see him relax his militant persona.

Obi-Wan kept thinking he would loosen up, still maintaining a spark of hope in his heart that Cody would go even a single step further than that easy smile, that he would laugh at his trooper’s antics or at Obi-Wan’s dry quips. That gentle curve of his closed lips was as far as he ever got. He rarely joined his men for drinks after their missions; he sequestered himself in the bunks or the offices, buried in plans and tactics that he had looked over a dozen times before. One life lost was a failure in Cody’s eyes.

He understood the likelihood of losing his men, the need for sacrifice. It didn’t change his desire for perfection. Cody was thorough and, as dearly as Obi-Wan appreciated him and his efficiency, he couldn’t help but consider his commander may benefit from some leisure.

The perfect opportunity came after a mission with no mortal casualties, one that Obi-Wan assumed Cody would not dwell on for too long, and their ship was scheduled to fly through a shower of crystallised meteors. A nearby carbon star was going into supernova and flinging its debris through space; they would bounce harmlessly off the shields of the ship. It was a spectacle Obi-Wan had seen once before, but before the war. His men had never laid eyes on such a sight, and the ship was abuzz with excitement. The men were finding spots to watch, abandoning their posts inside in favour of finding a window from which they could view this natural wonder.

Obi-Wan said nothing as he walked past them, smiling softly when they went quiet at his approach, hearing them whispering and giggling like children when he passed without a word. They deserved some time away from those responsibilities. There was someone Obi-Wan did not see among them, as he had suspected, and he approached the door of the commander’s office, rapping his knuckles to the metal before tapping the panel to slid the door open.

“Cody?” he asked, entering to see his commander at the desk, examining the battle over a series of holographic screens. “Commander, if I may make a suggestion?”

Cody hummed, looked to him. “Of course, sir.”

“Relax?”

It earned an amused huff from his commander. “I’m fine, sir.”

Obi-Wan shifted his jaw, coming to lean a hand against the desk, pushing the holograms down. “Are you aware of what’s happening in fifteen minutes?”

“The supernova?”

“Yes,” said Obi-Wan, tilting his head. “You don’t want to see it?”

“I’m not scheduled for a break, sir.”

A soft hum pressed Obi-Wan’s lips. “And what if I asked that you take a break?”

Cody lifted his head to meet his gaze, unfaltering. He had never been subdued around Obi-Wan; other men had avoided his gaze before, timid in the presence of a Jedi. Cody was not such a man. It was an aspect of his character that heavily contributed to his rank.

“Is that an order, sir?”

“A request.”

Cody leaned back in his chair, tilted his head. There was that look in his eyes again, that measuring stare he got when he was trying to ascertain someone’s meaning, trying to find some hidden message beneath. Obi-Wan held his gaze, hoping his sincerity came through in his eyes. His commander was an intelligent man. He might be the most intelligent man Obi-Wan knew.

“This is important to you, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan considered him a moment. “It’s important to me that you don’t miss out on experiences because you’re too buried in work. The battle went well, commander. You don’t have to review it in such depth.”

“It’s important to me to get the most out of every mission.”

“I know that,” Obi-Wan assured, “and I am grateful for that, truly, but it doesn’t mean you can’t take twenty minutes to come and see a sight that you may never get the chance to witness again. There’s not a man on this ship who is missing this.”

Cody frowned. “There are men stationed in the interior—”

“And they rightly abandoned their posts,” said Obi-Wan. “I didn’t say a word, and you won’t either.”

A twitch touched his commander’s lips, the beginnings of a smile. “Very well.”

He rose from his chair, swiping the holograms away, and standing there, expectantly. Obi-Wan blinked a moment in surprise. It was not often that Cody so easily gave into his attempts to drag him away from battle analysis, and this was no emergency situation. Cody did not deem leisure an important part of life, so Obi-Wan remained curious—as he led the way out of the office and down the hallways—as to his commander’s motives.

It would be a simple thing to look into his mind, but Obi-Wan considered it a violation. If Cody wished to tell him something, the man would say it himself. Anything further was not Obi-Wan’s right to know.

The men stiffened when they saw the pair, fell into utter silence, but Obi-Wan led Cody past and—as ordered—Cody gave no comment on the men’s position. A wave of relief appeared to sigh from them when their actions were not challenged. Obi-Wan cast a knowing look to his commander, gratitude and perhaps a whisper of teasing too. He knew how the man valued procedure. A response came in a soft smile; that quiet smile that left so much to be desired, but that Obi-Wan deeply cherished all the same.

There was a place above the bridge where Obi-Wan liked to meditate. It was where he took them now.

The great darkness of space stretched out through the transparent dome above them as the pair climbed up into the room. Obi-Wan closed the hatch behind them. He did not wish to be disturbed by young troopers searching for their own place to witness the shower; he locked it for good measure. There was a quietness here unlike anywhere else on the cruiser and he wished to maintain that.

“An interesting choice of viewing area, sir,” said Cody, tilted his head when Obi-Wan frowned at him. “Your meditation space felt sacred until now.”

Obi-Wan hummed, approached the edge of the domed space to stare out at the pulsing star, on the edge of annihilation. “What drains it of its purity now? You’ve been here before.”

“Not like this.”

Cody didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t have to. In his time entering this room before, he came only to rouse Obi-Wan from his meditative state. He did not linger.

“I happen to enjoy your company,” said Obi-Wan, keeping his voice down for the sake of preserving the quiet.

A beat of silence met his words. Footsteps broke it, soft but certain, and Cody came to his side without a word, looking out at that star. He was a comforting presence, a strong, constant presence, and Obi-Wan had come to depend greatly on his intelligence and his courage through every battle, every mission of this difficult war. However dark the circumstances, Cody was a glint of light in the force that never dimmed.

There was a thoughtfulness to him now, a distractedness that Obi-Wan could sense without trying, and he looked to his commander, seeking out some indication of emotion on that familiar face.

“Are you still thinking about the battle?”

Cody drew himself up taller, exhaled, as if Obi-Wan’s voice had brought him from some deep thought. “No,” he said, an honest answer, his gaze never once leaving that star. “I just look at that and wonder about myself, about my men. The supernova, it has to happen, destruction is the way of things. Everything ends… I just wonder how it will end for us.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, unsure whether to be amused or concerned. “You see death there?”

“I see death most places, sir.”

The Jedi considered that a moment, considered this man and his talent for overthinking, his wonderful, terrible mind, and found himself ever drawn to such a presence. “I am sorry you feel that way,” he said, thinking on his next words with great care. “There are constants in life. Death is one of them. You understand this as well as any Jedi and I am sorry that you do. It is a difficult truth to accept for many. Those of us who know it… we didn’t learn it easily.”

Cody looked to him then. “I’m sorry,” he said, and had this way of speaking with such earnest, a way that Obi-Wan was coming to find a great comfort in.

Obi-Wan met his gaze, overcome with a sudden desperation to know him. “Are you afraid? Of the end?”

“Not my own,” said Cody. “Just my men… I fear the aftermath of war more than war itself. I fear what will be done with us when the republic has no further use for soldiers.”

It was a sharp blow to Obi-Wan’s chest to hear such a thing from his commander, as if the words had physically struck him. “Cody…”

The man’s expression changed at that, a realisation entering his eyes, a darkness almost. “I’ve said too much, sir.”

“No,” said Obi-Wan with a shake of his head, moving to intercept his commander when Cody turned for the exit.

His hand clutched Cody’s arm to force him back.

“Stop, please.”

They stood for a moment in silence, neither knowing what to say. There was a restlessness to his commander that Obi-Wan had not sensed before, an uncertainty in his aura that was simply wrong. A man so sure of his abilities should not feel so out of sorts. Obi-Wan held his arm, struggling to make sense of his commander’s sudden change, just needing him to stay, refusing to let him find validation in this need to isolate himself and his truth.

“You are allowed to be afraid,” said Obi-Wan finally. “Only a fool fears nothing at all… All the same, I would like to assure you that, when this war is over, I will ensure you and your brothers are taken care of.”

“You shouldn’t say that, sir.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Why?”

“You can’t control everything.” Cody shifted his jaw, seeming hesitant almost to continue. “We… We aren’t yours to care for, sir. We’re Kaminoan property. They will decide what happens to us in the end.”

It was practically a reflex action that brought Obi-Wan’s other hand up, holding Cody by both arms now, needing to be certain he could get his point across. “Cody,” he said, very clear, “I will not let anything happen to you. Your men will be safe, and I can assure you of that. I will fight for you if I have to.”

Cody stared at him and, for perhaps the first time since they had met, he appeared stunned. Wide eyes searched Obi-Wan’s face, absent lips parting, faltering, the words unplanned.

A flare of light to the side drew their attention, and Cody straightened up in shock. Obi-Wan let him go. His fingers trailed against his commander’s armour, watching Cody approach the window as the debris of the exploded star rained down over the cruiser. Shards of diamond hit the shields, shattering on impact. The fire of the supernova refracted through larger chunks, sending scattered beams of light sweeping over the ship.

A soft sound left his commander, a gasp of sorts, unlike anything Obi-Wan had ever heard from him. Cody had gasped before, but only ever in pain, some physical agony or deep grief tearing his breath from him in a terrible display of anguish. This was so different.

When Obi-Wan came up beside him, he watched the reflection of the phenomenon in Cody’s wide eyes, saw light dance across his irises, and his own breath caught in a moment of weakness.

Cody spared him a glance, doubling back when Obi-Wan failed to tear his gaze away. “General?”

The address brought a lump to Obi-Wan’s throat, and he swallowed it back. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he admitted, finally admitted. “There’s no need… in situations such as this.”

Cody blinked, brow pinching. “What situations, sir?”

“’Sir’ is just as bad,” said Obi-Wan, though he shook his head, forced himself to pull back his vulnerability, build his walls up again, turning to watch the crystalised debris of the planet rain down. “It’s nothing. Just… you needn’t be so formal when we are alone.”

Silence fell across them. Obi-Wan was aware, in his peripheral, that Cody was no longer watching the supernova. Guilt gnawed at his gut that his commander should miss such a thing on his account.

“Alright,” Cody murmured unexpectedly, and Obi-Wan blinked hard, looking to him just as he turned back to stare into space, “Obi-Wan.”

It warmed his heart more than the Jedi would ever admit to another soul. To hear Cody’s voice—not the voice of Jango Fett or the voice of a clone, but Cody’s—speaking his name without hesitation or uncertainty, it felt like his heart was going into supernova.

As he stood beside his commander, both watching the beautiful, terrible event unfold before them, Obi-Wan felt something shift, felt a weight lifted from his heart to be in the presence of this man who had called him by his name.

[is-there-an-echo-in-here]

I Would Give You the Sky

Full story available to read here on Tumblr, or on my Ao3

. . .

His Love (3/3)

They were alone.

It had taken Obi-Wan a few days to realise what that meant, to understand the true isolation they found themselves in. Their survival took precedence over any confusing feelings he may harbour towards his commander—who was doing an excellent job of keeping them alive—and the first few days on this hostile planet were spent in scavenging supplies from their crashed escape pod, fighting to communicate with the rest of the fleet, patching up each other’s injuries, and finding and fortifying shelter. Cody hunted them food from the unforgiving wilderness.

He did his best with what they were given. Obi-Wan picked the grisly meat from the leg bone of some manner of bird that Cody had shot earlier in the day. They had roasted it over a fire and swiftly packed up camp, moving before they could eat, unable to let their guard down in the same place after so publicly announcing their position. A cave made them at home, a place higher into the mountains of the unnamed planet.

Cody kept readjusting the dial and antenna on their scavenged communicator. The sound of static bounced off the rocks.

“You should eat something,” Obi-Wan murmured, eyeing the meagre shreds of meat that filled the ration pack between them.

“We have to contact the others,” said Cody. “Some may have crashed here too if the other pods were as damaged as ours.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, eyes narrowing in a moment of concern. “Cody,” he said, as plainly as he could, waiting for the man to look his way before gesturing to their food supply. “Eat.”

His commander sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and set the communicator down. “Yes, sir,” he murmured, shifted his jaw when the Jedi gave him a look, and corrected himself. “Obi-Wan.”

He came and sat on the floor opposite the Jedi, taking a scrap of meat from the pack. A thoughtful furrow pinched his brow as he chewed on it, gaze focused on the floor of the cave.

“They will find us,” said Obi-Wan, hoping to ease those lines of worry from his face.

“I’m not worried about us; I’m worried about my men.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head in acknowledgement. He should have known that his commander’s forefront concern would never be with himself. Cody was not a man who greatly valued his life, not as such. He was aware of his skills, Obi-Wan knew, aware of his value to the republic in his leadership capabilities, but deemed it unimportant in the grand scheme of the battalion. The mission and the lives of his men came before everything. It was the reason for that scar that Obi-Wan knew was still visible beneath his hair.

He could feel it sometimes, when he reached to the force, to his commander’s light, this wound he had sustained in his self-sacrificial heroics. It seemed a dark stain on an otherwise bright soul.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody’s voice broke through, drawing the Jedi’s attention to him. His commander had a softer look to him now. “You’re drifting off again.”

“I’m sorry,” said Obi-Wan.

They both knew his mind had been wandering with greater frequency since they had taken the tower, since Cody had been wounded. The pull of the force was stronger now from his commander, and Obi-Wan could not explain it—or, rather, he did not care to. To delve into his connection with Cody would be to admit there was one. An acknowledgement of such closeness would be a betrayal of everything the Jedi had ever known, everything Qui-Gon had tried so hard to distil in him.

Obi-Wan would have rejected him properly the second Cody had been cleared for active duty, but it seemed that, whenever he looked at his commander these days, he lost his breath.

Cody had not mentioned their conversation in the infirmary—nor the other acts that took place there. He kept his word and gave him time, dutiful in this as in everything he did. Obi-Wan would have preferred to be pushed. It would surely make it easier for him to cast his rejection.

Looking over at Cody then, eating scarcely and slowly, thoughtful eyes fixed on the floor of the cave, his commander did not make it easy to reject him. A softness crept to Obi-Wan’s expression; he felt it tug the corners of his mouth up into a gentle curve, banishing it too late to avoid Cody’s attentive eyes.

The commander watched him a moment in silence, turned his gaze away slowly. Obi-Wan’s fingers twitched. He clenched his fist to quash the action, the unconscious pull towards his commander, because it could not be. He must have restraint. He must remember his duty.

It was difficult with his commander here, his competency in the wilderness, his kind eyes and gentle smile, the unstyled locks curling at his hairline. Obi-Wan tried not to look at him, but his gaze wandered to the man as much as his mind. Cody’s magnetism could not be denied. Obi-Wan had tried. It remained a troublesome feat to avoid his commander with a pull so strong.

“We could stay here tonight,” said Cody, an offer, not an order. “It’s well protected and in a good position.”

“You aren’t concerned with the cold that will settle in as night falls?”

Cody hummed, looked to the open mouth of the cave. “It will be more prominent up here, I suppose. We can head downhill if you’d prefer, but our defensive position will suffer.”

Obi-Wan considered this for a moment. “You’re right,” he decided. “We’ll stay here tonight, move again in the morning.”

The commander pushed himself up. He had only been sat for a few minutes, Obi-Wan noted, but said nothing to deter him in the knowledge that his arguing would make no impact on Cody’s mind.

“I’ll fix up the entrance,” he said, not an offer now, and exited the cave before Obi-Wan could speak—though he didn’t know what he would have said.

They needed to talk, Obi-Wan knew as much. He was avoiding the conversation, he knew this as well and so, it appeared, did Cody. He would be a fool not to see it and his commander was no fool, that was certain.

Obi-Wan laid out their sleeping mats while Cody was gone, making himself useful in what little ways he could; Cody had been working nonstop as usual, leaving the Jedi very small amounts to do. His commander was a man who needed to be busy, who needed to feel as though he was doing everything within his power to keep them alive and get them home. Obi-Wan was both grateful and concerned for his behaviour.

Cody returned before sunset, building up the entrance of the cave to a smaller target, sealing in the heat with branches and bracken he had scavenged from the woods. Cody took first watch, encouraging Obi-Wan to sleep and trying the communicator as dusk was falling. Obi-Wan could hear the static crackle outside. The commander adjusted and readjusted the dials, angled the antenna in every possible direction, spoke every known code in attempt to get a reply from their men or, in fact, any cruiser that may be in the area.

The moon was high and bright when Obi-Wan crawled out of the cave and took the communicator from Cody’s hands.

“It hasn’t been four hours, sir,” said the commander, shifted his jaw, corrected himself, “Obi-Wan.”

“I can’t sleep anyway,” Obi-Wan uttered, setting the communicator aside.

Cody watched him take a seat on the rocks outside the cave, choosing one that ensured a fair gap between himself and his commander. “Was I keeping you awake?”

“No,” Obi-Wan lied.

He turned his gaze to the sky, the treetops below and the mountains beyond, and breathed in the cooling air. In his peripheral, Cody angled his face upwards too and Obi-Wan risked a sideways glance over to him, a small smile twitching the corner of his mouth to see his commander without his helmet, free of armour. The republic insignia was splashed across his chest, but Obi-Wan wasn’t looking at that, elected not to be aware of it.

Moonlight struck Cody’s eyes when he turned his head. Obi-Wan’s lips parted unconsciously.

“Do you remember the tower?” Cody murmured suddenly, and Obi-Wan turned his head to squeeze his eyes shut at the memory of it, flashes of Cody lying there, bloody and bathed in the light of his saber, flitting behind closed eyes.

“I could not forget,” he said, managing to keep his voice somewhat regular.

He watched Cody shift in his peripheral. “Do you remember what you told me?”

“Cody…” Obi-Wan began, reluctance bleeding through in his voice because this was the conversation he had wished to avoid, and rejecting his commander here, while they were in survival mode, had the possibility to be detrimental to them both.

“You said you’d tell me about the stars.”

A silent breath left Obi-Wan’s chest, realisation and relief, and he cast his eyes up to the clear sky. “Yes, I did, didn’t I. Let’s see now…” He studied the sky, pointed across to the first that caught his eye. “There, do you see those three in a line, just above the mountain?”

Cody cast his gaze where Obi-Wan was pointing, paused a moment. “Yes.”

“And there’s a small cluster just below the leftmost star.”

“I see it.”

“I’m sure there are many names for it, but I learned it first as the sheath. The three larger stars mean to represent the belt itself, and the small cluster a dagger of some kind.”

Cody nodded. “You have fanciful names for them, I suspected as much.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile. “I know that you’re aware of their real names, so I did believe that you wished to know them in an informal light.”

Another nod from Cody encouraged him on. Obi-Wan mapped out the constellations for him, as best he could. There were sections unfamiliar to him; the galaxy was a large place and they were a ways out. The stars changed frequently in their numerous locations, but, thankfully, Obi-Wan knew this sky with some depth.

Cody was quiet throughout, speaking only in answer to Obi-Wan queries, and remaining silent otherwise. The Jedi edged closer to him, half unconscious in his movements, finding himself at one point sat beside the commander, having the man follow his pointing finger to a particularly shy set of stars halfway off the horizon. In the closeness, he felt Cody’s eyes on him as he talked through the falling night.

Those eyes were a difficult thing to avoid. Obi-Wan could stomach it when he had his helmet on—when those kind, expressive eyes were safely hidden behind a visor—but now, with his helmet in the cave and moonlight bathing the world in silver, Obi-Wan could not help himself.

Cody didn’t turn away from him. Another man would have shunted his gaze away in embarrassment at being caught staring or a concern to maintain his subordinate position. Cody was not that man. Cody held his gaze with a softness that stole Obi-Wan’s breath yet again. Restraint and propriety faded in Cody’s eyes, like the sun hitting fog and burning it to dew.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody uttered, barely above a whisper, and the reminder of reality should have scared him off.

Instead, Obi-Wan found his hand lifting to the commander’s face, fingers tracing over his temple, pushing into his hair and drifting over the scar. He felt the disturbance of skin beneath his fingertips.

“Obi-Wan,” said Cody again, softer now, if at all possible. “It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t…” Obi-Wan began and his voice caught in his closing throat. “We shouldn’t…”

Those eyes again, rounding in sympathy, in kindness. “It’s okay. Tell me no. Back away. You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, struggling to speak. “That’s just it,” he whispered, not trusting his voice to go louder. “I am never more comfortable than when I’m with you.”

It was over already—Obi-Wan knew it from the start—but when Cody lifted his hand, bare fingers cradling his cheek, he knew there would never be any going back. He closed his eyes into it, losing himself in Cody’s touch, allowing his head to be guided forward. His forehead rested against Cody’s own.

“Then be with me,” Cody said, such simplicity that Obi-Wan had to lead himself from tears.

“I…” he began, and didn’t need to explain because Cody knew, he knew what the Jedi were, what Obi-Wan was, knew their rules and their beliefs.

“It’s your decision,” said Cody, passing the pad of his thumb over the Jedi’s cheek, “but, please, make it for yourself, not for anyone else.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, pulling back a fraction from Cody just so he could look at him, at his face that he saw in a hundred different men who were never identical no matter what anyone may think, who all had their own glow in the force. No one shined brighter than Cody, not in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

All his life, people had told him what to do. Joining the Jedi order, taking the trials to become a master, even his apprentice, none of the biggest choices in Obi-Wan’s life had been his own. His world was decided for him and, for the most part, he was content; he liked being a Jedi, he had cherished his time as Anakin’s master.

Looking at Cody now, he realised that he would not be content to allow this man and his affection to slip through his fingers.

“I want…” Obi-Wan began, swallowed hard because it was not right. These words must be right. “I’m ready to give you an answer now, and the answer is yes. Yes, I love you. Yes, I hope to always love you. Yes, Cody. I’m saying yes.” The word had lost all meaning yet, at the same time, it never had so much. “Yes.”

Cody kissed him.

The touch of his mouth was gentle, lips tentative against his own, but his hands were cradling the Jedi’s face and Obi-Wan felt wanted; not for his power or his wisdom or any other trait learned through work and loss, but because he was Obi-Wan and his commander loved him for everything that name entailed.

His hands fisted into the neck of Cody’s blacks, pulling him in, holding him close. A weakness took him when the action coaxed a soft gasp from Cody’s flaring lips and Obi-Wan had to stop, had to push his forehead to the commander’s again, holding him close, unable to continue their intimacy because he knew he would fail this test of control.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody whispered, thumb smoothing across his cheekbone.

The Jedi swallowed thickly. “Don’t…” he began, having to pause for breath before continuing, thinking out his words again. “Don’t let this happen unless you mean it.”

“I mean it,” Cody replied, so soft. “I mean it, Obi-Wan. I love you too.”

“I don’t mean… I know that, I mean…” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, shaking his head as much as he could while still keeping in contact with his commander. “I want to be closer to you, and you need to tell me if that’s not what you’re looking for. I can love you in other ways, I do love you in every other way I know of, but, right now, there’s a particular way I want to show it—”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody said, firmer now, deliberate in his interruption, “I understand. I want that. Trust me.”

His choice of words touched Obi-Wan’s heart, softened his anxiety and his gaze. “I trust you,” he uttered, and hoped that he conveyed the weight properly because trust was a powerful and dangerous thing, and he gave it to Cody completely.

His commander cupped a hand to the nape of his neck, holding him close a moment, before pulling away, releasing him entirely, and Obi-Wan felt the loss of his light for only the briefest moment. Cody turned for the cave entrance, moved the enter and paused before he did so, looking back at the Jedi with meaningful eyes, such emotion there in his gaze that Obi-Wan so often did not have the pleasure of seeing. He saw it now and he followed it, and Cody, into the cave.

Neither of them took the watch that night.

The cave remained unguarded until the first light of dawn was turning the Eastern sky a milky pink. If either of them had cared to listen to the communicator during the night, they would have heard delayed responses to Cody’s earlier calls. As it was, Obi-Wan awoke to the sound of a transport vessel coming in to land.

His face was buried in Cody’s neck, the man having fallen asleep with his arm wrapped around the Jedi’s shoulders, holding him against his side. His robe was covering the both of them beneath a regular issue blanket they had scavenged from the escape pod. The commander’s bare skin was warm pressed against his own, but he stirred now and sat up in a rush, and the intimacy was lost.

A soft curse broke Cody’s lips, clearly also hearing the ship outside, and he scrambled to reclaim his clothes. Obi-Wan followed his lead.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” Cody was saying, and it took the Jedi a moment to register his words. “I’m sorry. I should have gone back to watch duty as soon as…”

He trailed, giving his general a sheepish look, seeming to understand the absurdity of his own words.

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan murmured, watching the commander huff as he heaved his chest plate on. “Here.”

The commander allowed him close; it was a relief in truth, as Obi-Wan had half expected him to flinch away. He fixed Cody’s arm bracers on in deft movements. Such a duty had often been practiced and, although he knew Cody didn’t strictly need the help, he cherished the quiet trust that helping the man with his armour conveyed.

Cody met his gaze briefly as he was finishing, fitting the second bracer on with ease. Obi-Wan could have sworn he saw a faint blush darken his commander’s cheeks before he turned away, took his helmet up and tucked it under his arm.

“It sounds like a republic transport,” said Cody, and headed for the exit, ducking his head out briefly and calling back with his answer. “It’s Rex and General Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth. He wanted more time, but it was fruitless to say so when he knew it was a luxury they could not claim. Some absurd instinct of his wanted to thank Cody for the night they had shared.

“Cody,” he uttered, unsure of the words even as he began the sentence.

Cody waited, watched. His eyes were soft.

“Obi-Wan,” he replied and said nothing further.

Obi-Wan’s lips parted and he scarcely knew the words, something instinctive and intuitive speaking for him. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum… cyar’ika.”

Cody stared. He remained silent for so long that Obi-Wan began to worry he had mispronounced the words so horribly that he had said something entirely wrong. Then, that smile. Cody’s smile, that barely there, but gentle and painfully genuine smile, was like nothing else.

He approached deftly, footsteps somewhat muted by the thundering of Obi-Wan’s own heartbeat in his ears. Gloved fingertips skimmed the edge of his jaw.

“I love you too, Obi-Wan,” Cody uttered, scarcely a whisper, not joining him in mando’a, but offering him the same courtesy of his native language, the words of his people.

He was kissed, softly, sweetly, and only for a second. When he pulled away, Cody gently hooked the side of his finger under Obi-Wan’s chin, as if to tilt his head up, but the movement was swift and soft and with no real pressure. It felt like praise, or gratitude, perhaps. Either way, Obi-Wan was certain he must appear rather flushed.

Voices outside coaxed Cody away from him—the commander moved to roll up their bedding—and Obi-Wan shook himself from his stricken daze to meet Anakin’s eyes when the younger Jedi poked his head through the cave entrance.

“So,” he greeted with a lopsided grin, “not dead then.”

“Certainly not,” replied Obi-Wan.

“Well, you didn’t answer your comms. Figured you must have run into some trouble.”

Obi-Wan gave him an easy smile as his former apprentice entered the cave. “Technical difficulties.”

Anakin hummed, froze a moment, and looked him up and down, practically side-eyeing him. Obi-Wan lifted his chin, determined not to allow his apprentice to detect anything untoward. He was very conscious of Cody, behind him, gathering up their bedding, all too aware of how the arrangement would look to someone who noticed it.

Anakin, thankfully, went through bouts of incuriosity, not noticing that which was right in front of him when he had something else on his mind. Obi-Wan supposed the young man had been worried for him, not Cody, and therefore only had eyes for his former master. Though he disapproved of the lack of care for his commander, he could appreciate that it had its uses at this precise moment.

“Come on then,” said Anakin, gesturing to him. “The ship’s waiting.”

He exited the cave. Obi-Wan cast a look back at Cody, who quirked a faint smirk, before hauling the pack over his shoulder. Obi-Wan took his own bedroll from Cody, tucking it under his arm and leading the way from the cave.

Outside, Anakin was halfway to the transport, that had landed on an outcrop a little ways down the hill. Rex was waiting for them at the cave entrance. He gave Cody a once over as he emerged. One brow raised, just a fraction.

“What happened to you?” he asked, though his tone was not one of concern, rather tinged in knowledge, and Obi-Wan purposefully walked ahead a little, not wishing to intrude on such a conversation.

“Escape pod malfunctioned,” said Cody in brief explanation.

“You get hurt?”

“No.”

“So that limp’s just for fun?”

Obi-Wan blinked hard, forcing himself not to freeze in his tracks, to keep going. He ached to glance back, to gauge Cody’s reaction to such an thinly veiled insinuation, but he could not, lest he risk confirming it.

“Hardly a limp,” said Cody.

Rex hummed, some mischief there in the sound. “Shall I call ahead to medical?”

“That’s unnecessary.”

Cody’s answer was too quick, too hinted in warning, and Obi-Wan knew he would not have been so transparent if he didn’t already know that their dalliance had been discovered. Rex knew. There was nothing they could do to change that now.

Obi-Wan heard Rex huff in soft amusement, heard the soft clank of armour knocking together, and risked a glance back to see Rex giving Cody’s shoulder a playful smack with his forearm. He said something in mando’a, something that Obi-Wan could not decipher, but his eyes were bright and there was a smile on his lips, flashing his teeth, as if the captain was unable to contain himself. He was happy.

A smile of his own took Obi-Wan’s expression, stifled, but unstoppable. Cody met his gaze, pulling his attention away from Rex for a moment to cast soft eyes over his Jedi, a curl to the corners of his mouth and the softest light in his eyes and Obi-Wan knew, inexplicably, in his heart, that they were going to be alright.

[is-there-an-echo-in-here]

I Would Give You the Sky

Read part one here, or read both parts on my Ao3

. . .

His Kiss (Part 2/3)

Cody was not a pilot.

Cody was a commander first, a foot soldier who got in the mud and the grime with his men, who got his hands dirty, who took fire, leading from the front. Cody took his leadership role very seriously. As such, leading from the front sometimes meant stepping out of his comfort zone.

“Commander,” said Obi-Wan, flitting a quick look over Cody’s pilot uniform. “Is this the best strategy?”

Cody hummed, tucked his helmet under his arm. “I believe so, sir. This separatist base is unlike others we have encountered; to infiltrate from the ground would result in the loss of over half the battalion. This is safer, and wiser. The pilots are skilled. They will take the base, sir, I guarantee it.”

He was right, of course. The base was situated on a pillar, miles of unsheltered ground surrounding it. It would be impossible to mount an attack from the ground without being seen, and the separatists were well positioned with higher ground. Cody’s plan, to use the low cloud layer that came in at nightfall as cover for their fleet of pilots, was the superior option. The men were decidedly skilled in the air, Obi-Wan knew that.

Cody was no different, highly competent on foot and in every vehicle in the republic army. The clones had been trained in every situation imaginable and Cody had excelled in all, from the earliest age.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Obi-Wan uttered regardless. “Are you certain you wish for us to split up?”

Those expressive eyes flitted over to him, amber reflecting the lights of the hangar. “Do you doubt me, sir?”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, a twitch to the corner of his mouth. “Never,” he said with absolute certainty.

“Are you concerned about mounting a ground attack?”

Obi-Wan blinked hard at him. “No, of course not,” he said, not wishing for his commander to believe him cowardly or untrusting of his plan.

Cody held his gaze, searching out his face, and Obi-Wan had to remind himself not to hold his breath.

Things had been different between them recently. It had been a month or so since the supernova, since Cody had used his first name for the first time. They had become closer for it; Cody seemed more at ease around him and, in fact, in general. He had even started taking the occasional break from endless reports and schematics, and, when they were alone, he never called him General Kenobi.

It was doing something to him, perhaps. Obi-Wan found himself increasingly reluctant to greenlight high-risk missions, knowing that his commander, to whom he had become so close, would be at the forefront of the danger.

“Sir,” Cody said, since they were around the men, within earshot of the others who would be taking to the skies, “there’s no need to worry. I know there will be casualties, but we both know a clean mission is near impossible.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I know, commander. I do not doubt you or your men.”

Regardless, he could not fall to attachment. Whatever happens, will happen. Obi-Wan could only do his best to protect the men within his control to protect, and Cody was not one of those men. All he could do for Cody was hope that his commander would be safe.

Hope carried him through watching the pilots take their jets; Cody saw himself off with a two-fingered salute in his general’s direction from the cockpit of his fighter. Hope carried him through watching the sun sink below the horizon from their temporary base beyond the northern ridge of the wide, rock flats. Hope carried him over and down the hill into the open space, leading his men with his lightsaber drawn, meeting the separatist foot soldiers that were deployed in place of the now destroyed cannons.

Ships battled overhead, precise shots exploding the turrets mounted on every angle of the tower. Obi-Wan led his men into the fight when the separatists were down to their fighters and foot soldiers, storming the tower with the battalion at his back, and fighting his way through the army of droids that were released from the lowest doors of the tower, meeting them head on. The separatist fighters tried to bomb them from above. Their own pilots protected the men on the ground as best they could.

“Commander,” Obi-Wan called into his comm unit, rocky debris showering over him from a narrowly avoided missile, “we need more cover down here!”

“You heard the general, boys,” Cody’s voice crackled through the comms and, above, Obi-Wan saw ships diving.

“General!” a voice called, and Obi-Wan snapped his gaze back to see Lieutenant Orbit gesturing to his platoon, pointing beyond the general. “Sir, the droids!”

Obi-Wan whipped around, eyes widening as he saw a new stream of separatist soldiers moving to outflank them. “Lieutenant, on me!”

He trusted the men to follow, and sprinted across the rock, slashing apart droids as he went, protecting his men from the blaster fire of the fresh wave of droids when they broke free of the current carnage, lightsaber slashing out to deflect their blaster fire back at them.

A shrill shriek hit his ears as he was slashing through the nearest droid, and Obi-Wan glanced up to see a missile screaming towards him. With less than a second to react, Obi-Wan flung a hand back to his men, knocking them away from the coming blast, using the force of his push to propel himself in the opposite direction, pushing himself to the other side of the droid flanks. The explosion threw him back mid-air.

Obi-Wan grunted as he tumbled back across the rock, scraping his hands up on the ground. He lifted his head with a soft groan when he came to a stop, finding himself a significant distance from his men.

“General,” a voice was saying over the comms, “general, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan muttered back, pushing himself up to his knees, rising to his feet as a squadron of droids approached, opening fire.

He slashed his saber out as he was forced back ever further from the battle.

Above him, no movement particularly out of the ordinary, but one that he felt drawn to in a way he could not yet understand, a droid fighter was barrelling towards the battlefield. Seeing no damage to the exterior, not even guns mounted, Obi-Wan realised with wide-eyed dread that it was a suicide bomber, a fighter laden with explosives that would do far greater damage than any missile.

“Take that ship down!” Cody’s voice yelled over the comms before he could do so himself.

Blaster fire redirected, from the air, from the ground, all desperately trying to damage the ship enough in the air for it to detonate with less harm. It was too fast, the shields too strong. One of their own fighter’s dived, making a beeline for the bomber.

A blaster bolt struck Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He slashed the offending droid in two. The ship flew headlong into the bomber.

The resulting explosion knocked men over on the ground, taking the back of their brave soldier’s ship clean off, eating away at the wings, leaving the cockpit and not much else, hurdling in a long trajectory towards the ground, nothing left to keep it in flight.

Obi-Wan watched with panic clutching his heart and widening his eyes as the ship barrelled down, screaming over his head in a ball of fire. He cast his hand out, gripping at the force, engulfing the ship. The descent slowed. The crash was more controlled, but it hit the ground all the same, screaming against the rock and spraying dust as it slammed and skidded to an eventual halt.

Obi-Wan whipped his saber back, ripping the remaining droids into pieces and kicking off in a sprint towards the downed vessel. He got on the comms in an instant.

“I have a ship down northeast of the base,” he called, as calmly as he could. “Likely to need a med-evac.”

“General, we’re pinned down here!” a voice crackled over the comms. “It’s going to be a minute!”

Obi-Wan bit back his frustration. “Understood. Quick as you can.”

He ran to the ship alone, his heart caught in a vice-like grip, because the closer he got, the clearer it became, the truth filling the force, latching onto Obi-Wan. He scaled the side of what remained of the fighter and slashed the shattered canopy open, dragging it back to reach the man inside, the pilot he realised he had known the identity of all along.

“Commander,” he said, practically a gasp, reaching in to grip Cody’s shoulder.

The commander’s helmet was drooping forward. He didn’t respond to Obi-Wan’s voice.

The jedi cast his lightsaber to the ground in favour of unclasping his commander and taking him under the arms, huffing as he hauled Cody from the cockpit. He had to carry the man over one shoulder to get him down to the ground. When he did, Obi-Wan laid him back slow and careful, hands coming to brace his neck, anxious to see the deep crack in his helmet, the dent that shadowed it. An absent hand lifted to his arm, gripping him in a weak hold.

“It’s alright, commander,” Obi-Wan said in a hurry, hands coming to the helmet. It was a relief to get a sign of life at least. “You’re alright. Let me get this off so I can take a look.”

He slid the helmet free, swallowing back a lump that rose to his throat as he set it to one side, because the damage that his helmet had taken had not protected Cody completely. Such a mess of blood matted his hair and leaked down his face that, for a moment, Obi-Wan struggled to identify the wound. He had to part Cody’s blood-slick hair to find the gash where his head had slammed forward.

Blood oozed in the light of his still ignited saber, dark against ashen skin, stuck in slick locks, clung to fluttering eyelashes. Obi-Wan cupped the side of his face to drag his thumb over Cody’s closed eye, wiping away the blinding mess as best he could.

“Commander, can you hear me?” Obi-Wan asked, taking the absent hum and the faint twitch of Cody’s fingers on his arm as a good sign. “Open your eyes.”

Cody did as he was told, as he always did, though his gaze was unfocused and didn’t settle on Obi-Wan’s face, drifting down and off to the side, languished blinks struggling to bring some direction. Obi-Wan pressed his thumb to the side of Cody’s jaw, guiding his head a fraction.

“Look at me,” he urged. “Just look at me now. That’s it. I’ve called for a medic, but they’re being held up. I need you to stay awake with me for a while, alright?

Cody’s lips pressed together, a hum rumbling his throat. “Took… a bit of a hit… general.”

“I know, it’s alright,” Obi-Wan murmured, his thumb stroking mindlessly at Cody’s cheek.

Low-lidded eyes searched across his face, reflecting the green glow of their limited light source. “Guess you… were right…” a convulsive swallow took his throat, chest heaving to compensate, “about… having a bad… feeling…”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan said warningly as his voice faded, pressing both hands to his face now, holding him hard when his eyes slipped and fluttered. “Cody, you have to stay with me now, do you hear me? I need you here with me.”

Cody hummed, lips parting with a soft tremble. “Obi-Wan…”

His lips kept moving, but the words didn’t come. His eyes were all but closed.

Obi-Wan slipped a hand around the back of his head, hauling him up to his lap, aware the damage was likely more substantial than his head, but needing to hold him. “I’m here, Cody. I’m here, I need you to stay awake.” He traced the pad of his thumb across Cody’s cheekbone, fighting for his attention. “Cody, look at me.”

Dark, unfocused eyes fluttered vaguely upwards. Obi-Wan glanced up to follow that aimless gaze, seeing above that the cloud layer had been disturbed enough by fighters to create swirls of clear sky, countless stars shining down upon them.

“Do you know them…?” Cody whispered and Obi-Wan looked back to see him staring in a daze at the sky. “The stars…”

Obi-Wan nodded, so grateful to hear his voice still. “Yes,” he said, matching Cody’s soft tone, readjusting his grip on his commander. “Will you stay awake with me so I can tell you them? Cody?”

Cody’s eyes fluttered up at the stars. “’s… no time…”

“There is time,” Obi-Wan vowed, desperate to just keep him here long enough for help to arrive. “We have so much time, Cody. I swear to you, I am going to tell you everything I know about the stars.”

A faint twitch took the corner of Cody’s mouth, his eyes on Obi-Wan now, low and lacking in focus, but gazing up at his jedi. “Sounds… nice…” He turned his head a fraction to Obi-Wan’s chest, eyelashes fluttering through a laboured breath. “Obi…”

“General!” a voice called and Obi-Wan glanced back, a shaky exhale of relief taking his chest.

“Lieutenant Orbit,” he uttered, barely able to get his voice over a breath as the man approached, a handful of men at his back, one of whom—most vitally—wore the red symbol of a medic. “He has a deep laceration to the head,” Obi-Wan explained as the young medic came to kneel with them. “I’ve been keeping him conscious as best I can, but…”

“You did well, sir,” Patch said when he trailed uncertainly, eyes and hands already on Cody. “I can get him stable for transport, but we need to get him back to base as soon as possible.”

Cody groaned softly as Patch coaxed his head to turn so he could better tend the head injury. His eyes didn’t focus on the medic, even when prompted by Patch and by Obi-wan. He stared aimlessly above, watching the stars.

 . . .

Cody woke to a fabric ceiling and a ringing in his ears, and he squeezed his fluttering eyes shut with a stifled groan.

There was chatter around him when the shrill sounds of his suddenly conscious mind faded out, soft, muted. Men were moaning in pain to be met with gentle assurances. Cody turned his head, squinting to his side to find a sheet reaching from floor to ceiling, a privacy curtain. It shifted a fraction at one end before settling again, and Cody turned his head towards the sound of footsteps.

“Oh, sir, you’re awake.”

Cody blinked up at Patch, tracking the young medic’s movements as he sunk down beside him. “’m I in a field hospital?” he croaked, swallowing hard on a dry throat.

“Recovery unit, sir, yes.” Patch helped him drink a small amount of water before continuing. “Do you remember what happened?”

Cody’s brow furrowed. “My ship… My ship crashed.”

“Yes, sir, that’s right.”

“Obi—” Cody began, blinking some sense into himself because that was not right. “The general, was… was he there?”

Patch nodded. His eyes were very soft. “He was… and I said I would inform him when you woke. I can bring him here to see you if you’re feeling well enough?”

“I need to get to the… the command tent,” Cody mumbled, sliding his hands up the bedroll he lay on, struggling to get enough strength in his arms to push himself up.

A painful ache spasmed his chest and he fell back with a ragged gasp, eyes squeezing shut tight, reaching a hand to his sternum. Patch’s hands were on him.

“Sir, you need to rest. You’re in no condition to go anywhere. Please.”

Cody breathed through his nose, struggling not to give into the pain. A hand rested lightly over his own.

“You need to listen to your medic, commander.”

Cody blinked hard through opening his eyes, fighting to keep his gaze focused when he watched the man kneel on his other side. “General,” he uttered, trying to lift his head again, only half consciously.

Obi-Wan placed a hand to his head. Cody felt his fingertips stroke through his hair, pushing loose curls back from his face, and realised he must look quite a mess without it styled.

“Try not to move,” Obi-Wan said, though there was no chiding in his voice and, the longer Cody stared, the more he was certain of the softness in the Jedi’s expression.

“I need to see to the others,” said Patch and it was such a reasonable excuse to leave that Cody almost didn’t catch the glance he flitted between his general and his commander, almost missed the tiny quirk at the corner of the medic’s mouth, something akin to relief.

He watched the medic stand and exit, slipping out of the curtained area. His silhouette moved down and to the side, crouching in the space directly adjacent to Cody’s own, tending to another casualty. Cody’s eyes fluttered against his will.

“Sir,” he mumbled, turned his head back to blinked up at his general, “the tower… did we take it?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed, a shot of sympathy passing over his irises. “Yes, the men captured it.”

Cody stared up at him and the angle was so familiar. The roof of the tent became stars between swirling fog.

“Why…” Cody began, swallowed hard on his throat when his voice came small. “Why didn’t you leave me…? Your priority has to be—”

“Please, Cody, do not tell me what my priority has to be,” Obi-Wan interrupted, and there was a spark to him then, a moment of frustration that he breathed down. “You almost died.”

The furrow that had begun to pinch Cody’s brow only deepened. “That’s my job, sir…”

“To die?”

“To do whatever it takes… To complete the mission, to protect my men…”

Obi-Wan exhaled, closed his eyes. Regret tugged Cody’s heart, and he reached up to tap a light touch to his general’s wrist, just wishing to get his attention.

“Hey,” he said, softer now, “I’m okay. I’m okay because of you. I know you saved me.”

“You remember that?” Obi-Wan asked.

Cody shifted his jaw. “I remember looking up at the stars… and I remember your voice.”

Obi-Wan stared. Cody watched his lips move, part as if to speak, tremble softly, and press shut again. The commander noticed all this only because he was staring too, because he knew his general and he could read his expressions as well as his own, as well as his brothers. There was a hint of something he rarely caught sight of, something that his general often hid with such ease.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he murmured, and his Jedi’s jaw ticked softly. “Thank you… for saving me. I owe you my life.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze softened into something so sincere, something Cody quite often saw when the Jedi looked to him but never had anything to call it. “You owe me nothing.”

He leaned in, faltering, and Cody lifted his head on instinct, on some desperate need to be closer, and Obi-Wan closed the gap between them. In the second, less than a second, before their lips met, Cody realised that the expression was love.

The soft chatter of men was the only sound amidst Cody’s heartbeat. A single sheet of fabric separated them from being discovered. Obi-Wan’s hand slipped around to cradle the back of his head, his fingers stroking into the curls on the back of Cody’s head. His lips were rougher than Cody imagined, a callousness and a greed there that the commander could not help but drink in. A hand lifted to clutch at his Jedi’s arm.

It seemed to break the spell, his touch pushing the Jedi back despite using it to try and pull him closer. Obi-Wan leaned away from him, hand slipping away from Cody’s head. His eyes were wider now, a hand lifting absently to his lips.

“I… I’m sorry. Commander—”

“Shut up,” Cody whispered, laying his head back against the pillow, unable to stop the words from slipping out from breathless lips. He grabbed the man’s arm again. “Don’t run.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, swallowed hard. “Commander,” he said again, and Cody squeezed hard on his arm, as hard as he could, though he knew it came weak.

“Cody,” he uttered, keeping his voice soft, still entirely aware that there were men just outside, “my name is Cody.”

A beat of silence fell between them.

“Cody,” said Obi-Wan. “This… cannot happen. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I should never have…”

“You are the best Jedi I have ever encountered.” Cody spoke without any trace of doubt, meeting the man’s softly narrowed eyes. “This does not alter those thoughts in any way. Are you still aware that you could lose me on any mission?”

Obi-Wan hesitated a moment. “Yes.”

“Do you still want me to use your name when we’re alone?”

“… yes.”

Cody swallowed hard on the sudden lump in his throat, scarcely able to believe the words that were tumbled from his mouth. “Are you in love with me?”

The silence stretched out longer then. Cody forced himself not to pull his gaze away.

“I can give you time,” he uttered when it seemed the quiet would never end.

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering and I mean it. Take some time.” The corner of his mouth quirked softly, wondering if he could ever alleviate this foreign tension that seemed to have fallen between them. “If you don’t, then I’m afraid I’ll have to request you don’t kiss me again.”

Obi-Wan huffed softly and, for once, Cody could not read his emotions from it. He risked another gentle squeeze to the general’s arm.

“I will be your commander, whatever you decide.”

The Jedi exhaled, so soft that it was almost silent. “I am… I’m grateful to hear you say that. I will give you an answer, I promise… You should rest now.”

“Take your time,” Cody began to say, but his voice faded in speechless surprise as Obi-Wan slid his arm up to take his hand.

He ducked his head. His lips ghosted across Cody’s knuckles, pressing in at the tallest jut of bone. Cody stared, transfixed. He saw it in his mind’s eye even when the Jedi stood and made his silent exit, saw Obi-Wan’s lips part and pucker and press to his skin, felt the warmth across his lips and absent-mindedly pushed his tongue out to taste the echo of his general’s kiss.

When his gaze drifted back, allowing his eyes to slip shut again, he saw the swirling array of stars in the darkness of his closed eyes.