#the empire’s not usually big on subtle entrances

[riyo-soka]

I’m typically not one of the “CX-2 is tech” people who goes through every episode looking for proof, but did anyone else notice that Phee specifically mentions the hidden cavern entrance being the reason she was able to land on Pabu undetected by the empire, meaning it’s by and large a secret about the island (but one that the Bad Batch know about). When CX-2 infiltrated Pabu last week, he also landed his ship in the caverns near the beach. How would he know about the caverns when the empire has never taken interest in Pabu before?

[pretchatta]

tripping the light fantastic

The brief was simple: infiltrate an Imperial gala and steal a datachip from one of the guests. Hera's contact had procured them false identities as wealthy socialites as well as providing a description of the target, so all they had to do was show up. Kanan didn't see how this operation could go wrong.

Of course, that was before he knew what Hera was wearing.

Things became a whole lot more complicated after that.

that evening wear series i started in june? i finished it!

rating: teen; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 7.5k words

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“Hera, the hovertaxi’s here!”

Kanan tried not to sound too impatient as he called to her from the cargo hold of the Ghost, but he was cold.

The thin, silken material of his shirt was cool against his skin, and his formal jacket was doing nothing to insulate him against the recycled air of the ship. Hera had told him he’d be fine once they reached their destination, but they would never get there if she didn’t hurry up.

“I’m coming!” came her muffled shout from somewhere above him.

He heard the clatter of heels against the deck and decided to believe her this time, so he walked back down the extended boarding ramp. The spaceport outside was no warmer, but it was a step closer to the extravagant Imperial gala they would be attending tonight. The impractical outfit had been provided by the same contact who had procured their invitations – or, rather, invitations for the two wealthy socialites they would be posing as.

Kanan waved at the taxi driver to indicate they wouldn’t be much longer and got a flat stare from the rhodian in response. He resisted the urge to rub at his eyes; Hera’s contact had insisted that they’d stand out if they didn’t follow fashion trends, and apparently the big one at the moment was glitter eyeshadow. It made his eyebrows itch.

He heard the sounds of someone coming down the ladder behind him and turned back to face the cargo bay.

“I’m sorry,“ Hera was saying, her voice clearer now she was closer. "The straps on these shoes are so fiddly, I don’t understand how anyone could have the patience to wear them every day.”

"You should have said something,” Kanan called back with a grin. Sometimes she really made this too easy. “I’m sure I could’ve helped, I’m great with my fing-”

He was cut off by the sight of Hera appearing at the top of the boarding ramp, the comment dying on his lips. Silhouetted by the light coming from inside the Ghost, one very accurate way to describe her appearance was stunning.

She was wearing a long, sleeveless dress made of the same silken material as Kanan’s shirt, and in the same deep burgundy colour. The V-shaped neckline plunged almost to her waist amidst the elegantly draped material, which clung to her hips and cascaded down her legs. The hem fluttered around her calves, revealing the impossibly high stiletto heels that were the reason for her lateness. They matched the colour of her dress, which contrasted beautifully against her skin.

Kanan gaped at her as all other thoughts fled from his head. He rarely saw Hera without her gloves, let alone the rest of her baggy flight suit; the combination of the dress and so much bare skin was almost too much for his brain to process.

She began to descend the ramp, hips and lekku swaying, apparently unaware of the effect she was having on him. As she drew near he could see she had applied a small amount of makeup – not much, but just enough to enhance her features, plus her own smear of glitter eyeshadow.

She came to a halt in front of him. “So, how do I look?”

He struggled to find an adequate response to her question.

“Words fail me.”

“That bad, huh?“ She gave him a knowing smile, then gestured behind him. "We should get going before our driver gets bored of waiting.”

The thud-hiss of the ramp closing jolted him back to himself. They were leaving Chopper in charge of the ship while they were gone, something that Hera seemed far more comfortable with than he was.

“Right, yeah, let’s go,” he said, shaking his head a little to clear it. He fell in step beside her as they walked over to where the taxi waited.

As Kanan opened the door for her, his hand automatically went to the small of her back to help her in. He aborted the motion with only inches to spare; her dress was completely backless. He jerked his arm back, feeling self-conscious about touching her bare skin, and managed to turn the movement into offering her his arm instead.

Hera took it with a smile as she climbed into the hovertaxi. Kanan followed, careful to sit so that there was still space between them, feeling suddenly warm despite his earlier discomfort. It was dawning on him that the evening ahead might be very difficult – and not just because of their mission.

Their false identities had them attending the gala husband and wife, and he was glad they didn’t need to start pretending until they got to the venue. He knew he hadn’t been subtle in his attraction towards her these past few months, but there was a line between casual flirting and going too far that he had been careful not to cross. Sometimes he thought he saw flickers of what could be reciprocation from her, but she had never given him any indication that she welcomed or returned his feelings and he did his best to respect that.

He had a horrible feeling that he would be getting awfully close to that line tonight.

When they pulled up to the venue, Kanan played the part of a dutiful husband, climbing out first and holding the door for Hera. She gave him a grateful smile as she took his proffered arm and let him help her out; now that the initial shock of her appearance had worn off, he could see that she was struggling without her usual flight suit and boots.

Their destination was a large private home worthy of the title ‘mansion’. It was made all the more impressive by the way it was uplit in the early evening twilight. Though it was in the middle of a bustling city, a narrow border of immaculately trimmed hedges surrounded the house, separating it from the buildings around it. A short flight of steps led up to the open front doors, warm light spilling out in welcome.

“Ready to put on a show?” Hera murmured from beside him.

Their brief was simple: infiltrate the gala and steal a datachip from one of the guests. Imperial suppliers often liked to finalise business deals at events such as these, and tonight ownership of a large consignment of weapons would be changing hands. Hera and Kanan were to locate the seller and swap the chip containing the manifests and shipping details of the sale with a fake, and then transmit the information to Hera’s contact. The shipment would be hijacked and stolen before the Imperials realised anything was wrong. It put fuel and supplies in the Ghost and took firepower away from the Empire, which made it Hera’s favourite kind of operation.

Unfortunately the guest in question was half the reason for the not-inconsiderable security force that was also in attendance tonight. Their disguises would get them in, but it would take a lot of skill and probably a fair amount of luck to grab the chip and then get out. The longer they could go without raising suspicion, the better.

Kanan turned to look down at her, his expression serious. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Her only response was to adjust her hold on his arm, linking them together more securely. He was happy with this; it struck the perfect balance of apparent intimacy, yet she could easily withdraw if she felt uncomfortable. He led her up the steps and to the doors.

The entrance hall beyond might have been described as small and modest by some. Those were the people this event was no doubt for – by Kanan’s standards, it was opulent.

Smooth blue stone lined the walls and contrasted against the golden tones of the floor. The gentle burbling of running water came from a small fountain in the center and echoed off the high, arched ceiling. Ornamental plants in intricately decorated pots lined the edges of the room, many with colourful flowers in bloom, their perfume hanging in the air. A heavy curtain in a rich, deep gold colour hung at the far end, and the faint sound of music could be heard from beyond.

“May I see your invitations?”

A sharply-dressed man in all black had been waiting just inside the door. Pale, slight and human, he couldn’t be a better example of an Imperial if he tried. That image was only reinforced by his companion; standing just behind him was a stormtrooper, silent and imposing.

Kanan affected a look of polite surprise. He had assumed they would give their cover names, maybe present their falsified chain codes. He flicked a glance at Hera, who was looking expectantly at him.

“Invitations?” he stalled, hoping desperately that her skintight dress might yet contain hidden pockets.

“I need to confirm that you are allowed in,” the doorman explained patiently. “You did bring your invitations with you, as requested?”

“Of course we did!” Hera assured him with a smile. “My husband wouldn’t have forgotten something as important as our invitations. They’re in your pocket, aren’t they, dear?”

Kanan tried to remain calm as he widened his eyes significantly at her. He hadn’t put anything in his pockets before they left, and he was pretty sure there wasn’t any chip or card in there already.

“Are they?” he asked.

Hera’s smile became fixed, and he got the distinct impression she was resisting rolling her eyes at him. She stepped forwards, right up to him, and then one of her hands brushed against his hip. Heat flashed through his core in response to her touch. Her hand continued downwards, slipping into his pocket, as her face moved closer to his. It took all of his concentration to hold still.

“Must we play this game at every event, love?” she murmured. There was a low, sensual quality to her already wonderful voice that only stoked the simmering heat in his gut. Before he could think of a way to respond, she leaned in further and her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. It was only the lightest of touches, but his skin still tingled even after she pulled away.

She waved the two slips of flimsi that had just been in his pocket at him, giving him a pointed look.

“Here they are,” Hera said airily to the sentry, passing him the flimsi. “You’ll have to excuse my husband – I married him for his looks, not his brains. But can you blame me?”

The man gave a forced chuckle and looked distinctly uncomfortable as he gave their invitations a cursory glance. Then he gave them a nod and waved them towards the curtained archway.

Kanan let Hera lead him across the atrium. He shook his head slightly; right now, he needed to focus. They had a job to complete, after all.

“I always knew you hired me for my handsome face,” he joked, quiet enough that the doorman wouldn’t hear.

He expected her to laugh it off as she usually did at his attempts at flirting, to gently remind him of the line that existed between them. Yet again, Hera threw him off balance.

She shot him a small smile as she took his arm. “Well, it wasn’t for your ability to check your pockets.”

He was unable to come up with a response as she led him beyond the curtain.

The gala was in full swing on the other side. A huge ballroom stretched before them, towering columns of more pale blue stone holding up the arched ceiling over a curved white dancefloor. The music came from a live band at the far end, and guests in gowns of all colours swayed and twirled over the dancefloor in time with the beat. Precious gemstones glittered under the soft lights, along with shimmering makeup and body paint akin to the eyeshadow Hera and Kanan wore.

Those who weren’t dancing were talking and mingling around the edges of the room. Small droids wove between them, carrying trays of drinks and canapés. Hera snagged them each a drink from a passing droid and they began to slowly make their way through the crowd.

Kanan caught snatches of conversation as they passed, mostly inane chatter with the occasional obsequious flattery or plain flaunting of wealth. He knew without a doubt that every single person present cared only about themselves; the whole event was a sickening display of the extreme inequality that was not just present but practically encouraged by the Empire. He almost felt disappointed that this was a stealth mission and not an opportunity to cause chaos.

They completed their circuit having managed to make only minimal interactions with other guests, and found a space to stand in. The part of the crowd nearest the entryway moved too much to allow them to survey the whole room effectively, so they ended up next to one of the columns about halfway around the dancefloor. It made watching the entrance difficult, but they had a decent view of the rest of the ballroom.

So far, none of the guests present were the person they were here for. Kanan didn’t have a description of their target but Hera had told him they would have a golden sunburst emblem displayed prominently on their outfit. The riot of colour made spotting something that would normally be so distinctive difficult, but they had both been looking and were yet to see the sunburst.

The curtain moved and Kanan craned his neck to see who the newest arrival to the party was, but the ladies’ matching black dresses held no additional colours.

“Let’s dance,” Hera said suddenly from beside him.

Kanan turned to stare at her. “What?”

She was scanning the rest of the room anxiously. “Everyone else seems to be having at least one, and I don’t want to stand out. Plus, we’ll have a better view of the entryway from the dancefloor.” She dumped her empty glass onto a passing droid-table and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

Kanan barely had a moment to put down his own half-finished drink before she was dragging him towards the dancefloor.

“But I don’t know how to dance!” he protested after her.

It earned him a sceptical look over her shoulder. “How can you not know how to dance? It’s easy, just follow my lead.”

She found them a space amongst the twirling couples and turned to him, still holding his hand in one of her own. He briefly noted that they did in fact have a great view of the entrance from here, and then she stepped in close and his attention narrowed to only her.

The heels brought Hera’s face high enough to be very close to his; her breath ghosted over his cheek. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, and through the thin material of his shirt he could feel her fingers were still cool from where they’d been holding her drink. He didn’t know what to do with his other hand, and in his indecision it hovered awkwardly.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Here,” she told him, releasing his shoulder just long enough to place his hand on her waist. His fingers brushed the soft, bare skin of her back and he had to resist the urge to touch more. His whole body felt suddenly very hot.

“Now try to follow my feet with yours,” she murmured.

It took Kanan a few moments to register her words. He could feel the heat of her body radiating through the thin silks of their clothes, and the sweet smell of her perfume filled his nose. He wanted to either push her away or pull her closer; it was agony having her so close, and yet not close enough.

Hera started to move, leading the steps of their dance, and Kanan’s brain struggled to keep up.

“Kanan,” Hera hissed as he stumbled, almost standing on her foot.

This wasn’t working. He needed to focus, or they’d start drawing attention to themselves.

Kanan took a deep breath and cast his mind back to a place he’d sworn he’d never return to. He wasn’t touching the Force, not quite, but it still felt wrong to call on the old meditation techniques. He felt the wash of calm sweep through him as he emptied his mind and regulated his breathing. The Force hummed in response, so close and so ready for him to take it, use it, draw strength from it. But he held himself back from going that far. All he needed was to ground himself.

Emotion, yet peace.

How ironic that, after years of denying his past, it was the Jedi code that he most needed now.

Kanan ignored the irony of his predicament as he followed the movement of Hera’s feet carefully, trying to stay in time with them without getting underneath the sharp heels. Fortunately the steps were simple, and it wasn’t long before they settled into a rhythm.

He managed to keep it together as they slowly traversed the dancefloor. Between focusing on his breathing and on Hera’s steps, he had no awareness of anything else; the contact could have been dancing right next to them and he wouldn’t have noticed. But their cover remained intact, and Hera had eyes sharp enough for both of them.

Once Hera saw that he was keeping up with her, she experimented with something different. She released his shoulder and spun away, still holding his hand. Her dress flared out around her calves as she moved, revealing more of her smooth, slender legs. Her eyes sparkled with the joy of the dance. Kanan’s heart skipped a beat; she was breathtakingly beautiful.

She twirled back into his arms and he took another deep, grounding breath. He wasn’t sure if it was weaker from the dancing or if he was just getting used to it, but her perfume wasn’t as overwhelming now. This whole semi-meditation thing was getting easier, too; maybe he should try it more often.

“I still can’t see the target,” Hera murmured in his ear, and his concentration broke. That low, lovely voice would always be his undoing.

Fortunately, his feet seemed to have memorised the steps and didn’t need his brain to continue moving.

“Maybe they’re not coming,” he replied lightly, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

“No, this contact has never been wrong before. They’ll be here.” She sounded confident in her assertion, and Kanan really wasn’t in a position to argue.

“Though, if they take much longer,” she continued, “we should check out the buffet table.”

He felt an amused grin spread over his face. “You’re hungry?”

“Starving. I meant to grab a ration bar before we left, but getting ready took longer than I expected.”

Something about her admission made affection swell in his chest.

“I think this dance is almost over,” he said, hearing the song start to wind down and trying to hide his relief. “If you want to keep watch I can go find you some food.”

If she was lucky they might have Gruuvan Shaal kebabs, or even some meiloorun. His mind had already drifted to thoughts of what Hera might like to eat as he started to take a step back, but then her grip on him tightened.

“No – wait – I think that’s them!”

Hera’s arms were suddenly steel, holding him in place as she craned her head over his shoulder. Kanan felt frozen in place.

“Where?” He tried to turn to see for himself.

“Don’t look, just keep dancing,” she hissed. “I’ll try to move us closer.”

The band started up the next song, a slower one with a different beat. Hera let go of his hand to place both of hers on his shoulders. Somehow, she was now even closer than before.

“Put your hands on my back,” she murmured, her lips barely an inch from his ear. “Keep following my steps.”

He did as he was told, his short-circuiting brain incapable of anything else, both hands splayed against her bare skin. It was warm under his palms but he resisted the urge to stroke his fingers along her spine. She had moved closer to him so that her chin rested on his shoulder and her chest pressed against his. The silk did nothing to hide the curves of her body; combined with the touch of her bare skin, it would be easy to imagine there were no clothes between them at all.

Don’t think about that, he told himself sternly. He wondered if Hera could tell he was feeling a lot warmer than usual. He tried meditation again, hoping it would cool the flush in his cheeks, but it was harder than before.

Hera led him in the new dance, slightly easier than the previous one. It was slower and had fewer steps, so it wasn’t long before Kanan could let his feet continue for him. There were more distractions with this one, however; as well as Hera being much closer, every now and then the tips of her lekku would brush the backs of his hands. Whenever that happened it was like the light touch was igniting sparks over his skin. The meditation didn’t seem to be as effective now; he worried that at any moment his hands would start trembling.

“I’ve got eyes on her,” Hera whispered. Kanan felt her breath over his earlobe.

“Her?”

“Mikkian, middle-aged, blue skin. She’s got the golden sunburst on her shoulder; she’s definitely our target.”

He felt Hera slightly change the angle of their movement, guiding them across the dancefloor. The steps lengthened and Kanan needed to focus harder to follow them. If anything, the distraction helped.

The band began the final cadence of the song, and Kanan found himself desperately hoping that Hera would let them stop dancing. Maybe even step outside for a minute. Fresh air would be good.

“She’s going somewhere – this is our chance!”

A moment later Hera had slipped out of his arms and was moving away. It took his mind a few moments to catch up, but by then she’d taken his hand again and was leading him off the dancefloor.

With Hera gone, clarity returned to his mind in an instant. They were on the job now: hunting an Imperial for tactical data.

This, he could do.

They were on the other side of the dancefloor to where they’d started, and slightly closer to the curtained entryway. Kanan caught sight of the mikkian woman walking around the edge of the room, staying close to the wall. The sunburst was an oversized brooch on one of her shoulders, contrasting elegantly with the deep purple of her velvoid dress. She reached another curtain and, after a quick glance over her shoulder, she slipped through and disappeared on the other side. Kanan caught a flash of an ornate archway like the one they had entered through and guessed it led to the rest of the mansion.

Hera was still leading him after her, weaving around a table that was in their way. Something caught his eye and he reached out a hand to snag it as they passed, slipping it into his pocket. They reached the curtain that clearly marked the area beyond as off-limits to gala guests and Hera paused, turning to meet Kanan’s eyes. He nodded to indicate he was ready, and she wordlessly pushed it aside so they could follow the mikkian through.

Beyond was a grand-looking hallway. A lush strip of carpet ran down the center and ornately framed paintings hung along the walls. Kanan caught a flash of blue head-tendrils disappearing around the next corner, but Hera was already in pursuit. He wasn’t sure what Hera’s plan was when they reached her; pretend to recognise her and pick her pocket? Knock her out and rob her, hoping no-one would find her before they could get out? Whatever it was, he was ready to follow his captain’s lead.

Something caught his eye, and Kanan nudged Hera. She glanced up at the hidden security cam he indicated and tapped her temple, then winked. It took Kanan a moment to understand, but when he did he nodded with the dawning realisation. There were some types of glitter that scattered light in such a way that it scrambled any sensors trying to detect it; their eyeshadow was not just a fashion statement, but a way to conceal their faces on any security recordings.

Rounding the corner, they found the hallway split as a staircase led up to the next storey of the house. Hera silently pointed to a recent scuff in the thick pile of the carpet on the lowest step. Between the soft surface and the still-audible music from the ballroom their target had the advantage of stealth on them, but there were other ways to track her.

They ascended the stairs in a crouch, but needn’t have bothered. As they reached the hallway at the top they saw a door just finish closing. As quietly as they could, they crept to the door, past more doors, curtains and paintings. Hera was reaching for the handle when Kanan felt rather than heard a presence at the foot of the stairs.

He stiffened.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered to her.

She quickly glanced around. “In here!”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him behind a heavy, floor-length curtain opposite the door the mikkian had gone through.

It turned out to be covering a small alcove housing some kind of ancient relic displayed on a stone plinth. Hera shoved him into the back of the alcove, wedging herself between him and the plinth and twitching the curtain closed again behind them. It was thick enough to let in no light, so they were cast into darkness.

When Hera didn’t move back, Kanan realised just how little space there was around the relic and its stand. It felt like every inch of Hera’s body was pressed against his, warm and soft and utterly maddening. It didn’t help that, in the dark, all of his senses seemed heightened to compensate for the lack of sight. His mouth felt suddenly dry.

He heard the muffled sound of several sets of heavy footsteps on the carpet, and then the soft swish of the door opening and closing. The sweet scent of Hera’s perfume was in his nose again, though this time there was something else underlying it, something familiar that made him think of home. That was strange; he didn’t have a home. Not beyond the Ghost, if that even counted. Muffled voices brought him back to the present situation, a man’s and a woman’s coming from the room behind the door and another one, nearer but tinny, as though it came through a comm.

“This must be the hand-off,” Hera breathed against his ear, and Kanan had to work to stop his knees from giving out. “Sounds like a guard outside the door.”

“What’s the plan?” he managed.

There was a brief pause as she thought. “On my mark, we stun the guard and then two in the room. I’ll grab the data, you keep watch, and then we get out of here.”

“Got it.” He gave a small nod, forgetting that she couldn’t see it. “Wait – we don’t have blasters.”

“I do.”

She shifted against him and then something warm and soft that felt suspiciously like skin brushed against his hand. He snatched it away like it had been burned

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Getting my blaster,” she replied in a calm whisper. “The only way I could conceal one in this dress was with a thigh holster.”

Oh. Okay. Just her leg. That was all it was, just her bare thigh pressing against his hip from where she’d hitched the dress up. Which he’d just touched. His heart was in his throat.

“On three,” Hera whispered, shifting again as she resumed standing on two feet.

“One.”

Kanan felt the hard edge of her blaster against his shoulder as she brought it up to a ready position.

“Two.”

He reached out a hand, ready to pull the curtain back.

“Three.”

Kanan whipped the curtain aside and they burst out of the alcove. Hera squeezed two shots off at the single stormtrooper standing guard, and Kanan was at the door before they finished hitting the floor. It swung open, and Kanan dived into the room beyond.

He caught a brief glimpse of a pair of startled faces and made a split-second decision to go for the man. He was tall, human, and dressed in the crisp, dark uniform of an Imperial naval officer. A swift blow to the head sent him reeling as Hera shot a stun blast at the mikkian. Before the man could recover, Kanan had stepped to the side so Hera could take him down too. It was all over in seconds, the only sounds having come from Hera’s compact little blaster.

He turned to congratulate her, but Hera was already on her knees beside the mikkian patting her down for the datachip. Kanan strode to the door instead, hauling the unconscious trooper inside before stretching out his senses for signs of anyone else approaching.

A prickle at the back of his neck told him that was sooner than he’d have liked.

“Hera, we’re about to have company,” he warned her.

“Hang on – wait, I think it might be inside–”

His ears caught the soft thumps of heavy boots coming up the stairs.

“Hera!”

“Got it!”

There was a click sound and he glanced back to see the mikkian’s sunburst brooch open in Hera’s hand, revealing a hidden chamber with a small datachip inside. Unfortunately, his next look to the hallway outside showed him a pair of stormtroopers cresting the stairs.

“Hey, you!” one shouted.

Kanan cursed as they started to raise their weapons. He ducked back into the room as a pair of plasma bolts hit the doorframe.

“Time to go!” Hera was already on her feet behind him, and he let her push him aside as she stepped up to the doorway with her blaster ready. She darted out just as the bootsteps reached the door; two shots later and both troopers were on the floor, unconscious.

Kanan grabbed her hand. "They'll have called for help; run!"

He half-dragged her in the opposite direction, continuing down the hallway and away from the scene they had created.

“There goes our stealth,” Hera panted from beside him.

They rounded a corner and found the hallway continued ahead, though there were also stairs leading upwards to one side. Kanan shook his head and led Hera so that they stayed on the same level; they wanted to be going down, not up.

“If we can get back to the main party, we can lose ourselves in the crowd,” he said to her, a plan for their escape already forming in his mind.

No doubt it would not be long before someone discovered the five unconscious bodies they had left behind, but they wouldn’t have a description of who to look for. As long as they weren’t caught anywhere they shouldn’t be there would be no reason for anyone to assume they were anything other than genuine guests.

“Good idea, but first we need to get there,” Hera pointed out somewhat breathlessly.

There was another corner up ahead, and if Kanan’s sense of direction was leading him true they should be on the other side of the ballroom now. If the mansion was somewhat symmetrical, then just here –

“There you go,” he panted as they turned the corner. "Our way back."

At the other end of the hall was a staircase just like the one they’d come up. They raced forwards.

Kanan only got a flicker of warning, but it was enough. He skidded to a halt and flung out an arm to stop Hera just as the tinny sound of a communicator reached them from the stairs.

“–assaulted guests and took out three troopers. Do not let them escape. Repeat, all squads to the Clovis wing, at least one attacker–”

The now-familiar sound of boots on carpet was coming up the stairs.

Hera tried the handle of the nearest door, but it didn’t budge.

"It's locked!" Hera hissed.

Kanan looked for an alcove like the one they had hidden behind before. There was a matching one here but it held no ornament, only an empty plinth, and so there was no curtain to conceal them. There was no way they’d be able to run back around the corner before they were spotted, and standing here, out of bounds and out of breath, looked far too suspicious for them to be simply wayward guests. After all, what else would they have been doing?

The white tops of a pair of stormtrooper helmets came into view on the staircase.

Kanan had an idea.

“You can forgive me for this later,” he whispered, pushing Hera by the shoulders into the alcove. He desperately hoped she would; it was a terrible idea, but it might just work.

This space was no larger than the one on the other side of the house. His chest pressed against hers as he yanked the tie out of his hair. His other hand still held her blaster which he offered back to her. She took it automatically despite the confusion in her eyes, but he didn’t release it, instead guiding her to hide it under his jacket as he raked his free hand through his now-loose hair.

The stormtroopers had reached the top of the stairs; they’d be spotted any second now. Time to sell it.

A brush of his fingers tilted her chin up towards his face.

“What–”

Her words were cut off as he bent his neck and kissed her.

Time seemed to stop the moment their lips met. The world fell silent, the only sound his heart pounding in his ears, straining after their sprint through the mansion. His awareness shrank to Hera and only Hera. She had frozen against him, though only a moment ago he’d felt her breathing just as heavily as he was. Not that he was breathing any more; time had stopped.

It was a simple kiss, a press of his lips against hers. It was nothing. It was everything. It was Hera.

And then she kissed him back.

He knew it was just the surprise wearing off as her brain caught up to what they were doing. He knew she was just maintaining the cover he’d hastily created for them. But that didn’t stop how right it felt.

The hand still on her wrist gently stroked its way up her arm to her shoulder, while his fingers under her chin caressed the soft skin of her neck, down, until they brushed along her collarbone. Her breath hitched in her throat and her lips parted ever so slightly–

“Hey!”

Time snapped back to full speed as they broke apart. The stormtroopers had reached them and one was pointing a blaster at Kanan’s chest. Well, it would be more accurate to say both of them, as there wasn’t much space in it.

Kanan was breathing again, even more heavily than before, and he knew exactly how he looked with his tousled hair and the startled, almost guilty expression on his face. What he'd intended as a charade had become all too real as his mind was still reeling from the kiss.

“Oh, uh, sorry–” the trooper faltered and pointed the weapon down. “This area’s off-limits to guests.”

Kanan simply stared at him blankly. Of course it’s off-limits, that’s why we’re here.

“There’s been a security breach,” the trooper tried again, “you need to go back to the main ballroom, sir. Ma'am.” He nodded at Hera while managing to not look directly at her; Kanan got the impression that if his helmet had been off, they would have seen his face steadily turning red.

“A security breach?” Hera repeated in a breathy, Ryl-accented voice. Smart; the confident woman she’d been at the door had helped them to get in, but now they needed to be unassuming and easily dismissable.

Kanan sighed. “Just as I was starting to enjoy this event,” he muttered, loud enough for the trooper to hear.

“We need to secure the area. Please move along.” The trooper gestured towards the stairs, but he was already moving to walk past them and his companion was a few more steps ahead.

Kanan stepped out of the alcove but kept one arm around Hera’s shoulders, keeping her close and allowing the hand that held her blaster to remain concealed under his jacket.

“I hope nothing has been stolen,” Hera said worriedly, still with the accent, as they began descending the staircase. “Our host was telling me earlier, he has quite the collection of old Clone Wars relics here. Very valuable to thieves.”

“Probably what the breach is,” Kanan said confidently. “I’m sure they’ll catch the thief.”

They reached the foot of the stairs and he glanced back over his shoulder; the troopers were out of sight. They’d done it. Around the next corner the archway that led back to the ballroom became visible, the music growing louder with every step. Hera made no move to withdraw her arm and stow her blaster.

“That was a nice bit of quick thinking,” she said, back to her normal voice though she kept it carefully neutral.

Kanan couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more time to warn you. Or, y’know. Ask.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She stopped to let him pull the curtain aside, the noise of the music and the guests reaching full volume and washing over them as they re-entered the party. “It worked, and now we’re back to being just two more guests.”

“We’re not out yet,” he reminded her. “C’mon, our best shot is probably right out the front door.”

They weaved through the crowd, Kanan still with an arm around Hera’s shoulder as they made their way slowly back across the ballroom. It almost felt strange that the party had changed so little in their absence, but they couldn’t have been gone longer than half an hour. The band were still playing, the dancefloor was still in full motion, and people still clustered around the edges engaged in conversations.

They reached the curtained archway to the atrium feeling much like they had during that first circuit of the room when they’d arrived. No-one gave them a second glance, too engrossed in their own affairs to spare a thought for two people they didn’t recognise. In a place like this, that meant you were unimportant, which suited Kanan and Hera just fine.

A few scattered guests were lingering around the pool as they ducked around the curtain into the atrium. One of two wafted folding fans at themselves, trying to cool off after dancing. Kanan and Hera were completely ignored as they walked past. The open doors loomed ever closer, along with the freedom that lay beyond.

They were just passing the doorman when his stormtrooper bouncer spoke.

“They’ve accessed the surveillance footage from the halls – the intruders are disguised as guests," he said, his voice tinny through the helmet's comm. "One human and a tail-head. No-one can leave until they’ve been found.”

“Uh oh,” Kanan said softly. The exit was mere steps away.

“Hey, you!” the doorman called over to them. “Stop there!”

Kanan swore.

“Run!” Hera shouted.

They took off as one, tearing down the steps to the street beyond. Blaster bolts hit the hedges as they reached the end of the path and rounded the gateposts, breaking into a sprint. Or, at least, Kanan did; Hera cried out from behind him. He skidded to a halt

“These kriffing heels – I’ve twisted my ankle!” She was still trying to hobble forwards, though at nowhere near the pace she could normally manage.

Behind her, stormtroopers were starting to pour out of the mansion.

“Okay, new plan!”

There was no time for anything clever. Before Hera could protest, he scooped her into his arms and started running again.

To her credit, Hera adapted to her new situation immediately. She still held her blaster in one hand, and as he carried her away she took aim over his shoulder. She wouldn’t be able to hit anything with any accuracy like this, but he knew exactly what she was doing; her shots sent the stormtroopers scattering for cover, allowing him to increase their lead on them.

He darted into an alley. Adrenaline was allowing him to run with Hera in his arms, but it would only last so long before his muscles would register their strain. Now, with no-one watching, was the perfect time to execute part two of this improvised escape.

The Force had been waiting all evening, hovering just next to his awareness, and now he finally drew on it. Kanan leapt, higher than he would have even unladen. He landed on the flat, permacrete roof, and with the Force flowing through his body he was running again.

With no more targets to shoot, Hera's arms encircled his neck, holding on for dear life. Kanan raced over the rooftops, leaping from one to the next over the oblivious pedestrians on the streets below. He’d already oriented himself and was heading to the spaceport. One of the perks of travelling like this was that he could do so in a perfectly straight line. Even if the Imperials tried to shut down the port they’d have to take the long way around to get there.

The scream of a twin-ion engine gave him warning, and he dropped back down to another abandoned alley a few streets over from the spaceport’s entrance. The TIE swooped overhead, searchlights coming on as it entered the zone the Imperials calculated they would still be inside of. Kanan smirked triumphantly.

“Well, that’s one way to save on the taxi fare,” Hera said as he set her carefully back on her feet. He didn’t quite let go of her, aware that she was putting most of her weight on only one leg.

He huffed out a laugh between panting breaths. “Don’t start counting on rides for supply runs.”

She grinned at him. “Of course not, you have a terrible luggage allowance.” She elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

He pretended to look affronted. “Well, if you want your spacious cargo hold back I suggest we get moving.”

Her eyes lingered on his face a few seconds longer, her smile softening with a fondness that echoed in his chest. Then her expression turned serious as she looked towards her injured ankle and took a tentative step onto it. She let out a hiss of pain, but managed to limp to the other side of the alley.

“It’s not too bad,” she said, seeming to find it easier on the way back. Then she started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Kanan asked, confused.

“The whole op was actually not too bad.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?”

“Sure, we were seen, but they didn’t get our faces," – she gestured to her eyeshadow – "neither of us got shot, and we got what we came for. By our standards this was almost a perfect run.”

He joined in the laughter. She had a point; for them, it was pretty good.

“It’s just a shame we weren’t able to get any of that food,” she added wistfully.

Kanan felt a flash of guilt, even though it wasn't his fault. He'd said he would bring her something to eat, but then they'd been distracted by the appearance of their target. He remembered their pursuit of the mikkian, how Hera had immediately been focused on their mission as she'd led him off the dancefloor.

“Actually…”

Kanan reached into his pocket for the item he’d swiped earlier that evening. They'd passed right by the buffet tables on the way to the curtained archway and until that moment he'd forgotten he had in fact kept his word to Hera.

He presented the meiloorun to her with a proud smile.

She gaped at him for a moment, staring between his face and the fruit in his hand. Then, her surprise softened to something he couldn’t quite read. It wasn't just gratitude; there was a warmth to it, an aching fondness in her eyes. She took a step forward, grabbed him by the lapel–

And kissed him.

For a second he was frozen with shock, one hand holding the meiloorun and the other hanging by his side. Then his mind caught up with what was happening, his arms slid around Hera, and he kissed her back.

It was the same as their kiss earlier, and yet it was also different. It was still Hera, her presence filling every one of his senses, but this time there was nothing held back. Her mouth parted easily against his, her tongue gently tracing his lower lip. His free hand caressed the bare skin of her back, his fingers softly stroking up her spine. She shivered against him.

When she pulled back an inch to breathe, he felt like he was floating.

“Definitely a perfect run,” she corrected herself in a whisper.

He gazed into her shining eyes with awe. It’s always perfect with you, he wanted to say. You’re amazing, you look beautiful tonight, I would do anything for you.

Instead, he kissed her again. Her lips were soft and eager against his.

She already knew.

[princessjungeun]

Chuuves Royalty AU~ Part 3

Sooyoung managed to sneak back onto the palace grounds successfully, however she didn’t make it into the palace unnoticed. The thing about her palace was that her sleeping chamber is on the front of the castle. That being said anyone who is by a window on the right side of the place will see the princess sneaking in and out of her chamber. Usually her favorite groundskeeper, Mark, is able to keep a watch for her.

Unfortunately Mark had fallen ill and would be out for another week. That being said, Sooyoung could only hope nobody was not only able to see her, but also waiting for her in her room.

The princess quickly climbed a nearby tree, she then rolled up her sleeves and looked around to see if anyone was watching. When she assumed the coast was clear she started to scale the palace wall—about two years ago Mark noticed Sooyoung climbing out of her window. He knew she had a way out but not in without going unnoticed. So he installed a few extra bricks along the palace wall to use as a climbing wall so she could sneak in and out with ease— Hyunjin left the window open for her as usual.

Sooyoung lost her footing at the last second as she was halfway through the window. Resulting in her face planting onto the floor. It was only now that she realized she had fallen at the feet of someone.

Her eyes traveled up and she saw her father standing over her, clearly peeved. Sooyoung stood up, and brushed her dress off. Smiling innocently she rocked back and forth on her toes, weakly saying “heyyy daddy...”

The king sternly told her “Ha Sooyoung! You have run off one too many times. Not only are you embarrassing yourself, but this entire empire. Why do you keep doing this to us?”

Sooyoung kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed, “you know I have no interest in letting a man control me and this empire when the time comes. Hell I don’t even WANT to be queen, just have another kid so I don’t

Her father sighed before saying “you have one more suitor coming tomorrow. Prince Jiseok of the south Kim Empire will be coming tomorrow. His younger sister is slightly younger than you, she will also be attending. You will be with her for hours before as well. This way you will not have a way to pull one of your games.”

Sooyoung deeply sighed, running a hand through her hair, “are you serious? I have to babysit this girl?” The king responded “Sooyoung, she is 21. Just slightly younger than you. To be quite honest she takes her position more than you. I hope you will learn from her.”

Sooyoung rolled her eyes, already tired of this conversation, “yeah yeah fine whatever. No games.”

The king nodded and said “thank you.” He snapped his fingers at Hyunjin and asked politely “if you could please help her clean up before bed please?” Hyunjin nodded and quickly pushed the princess towards the bathroom.

For the rest of the night Hyunjin was stuck listening to Sooyoung complain about how she didn’t want to meet another suitor.

•

•

•

The next morning Hyunjin woke Sooyoung up as she did every morning, dragging her out of bed while listening to her bitch and moan about whatever was planned for the day.

“Sooyoungie I think this won’t be as bad as you think. Heejin is close friends with Princess Jiwoo, apparently she’s very sweet.” Hyunjin tried her best to tell Sooyoung to calm down.

Sooyoung had eventually gave in after finding guards at every entrance and window of the castle. Her father had clearly ordered them to stand guard keeping Sooyoung home all day.

The princess complained the entire afternoon, Hyunjin honestly finding it quite funny. It wasn’t until another worker knocked on Sooyoung’s door th at she quit complaining.

“Excuse me, I would like to let the princess know that her guests have arrived. The king would like her to report downstairs to greet them promptly.” The young worker told Hyunjin to relay the message.

Sooyoung sat up on her bed and asked “aren’t they two hours early?”

Hyunjin checked her watch, nodding and saying “yes but the king wants you downstairs so that’s where we are going.”

Sooyoung rolled her eyes and slapped her tiara on her head. Hyunjin stopped her quickly, brushing her hair nicely and placing the tiara back on her head. Hyunjin once d her over quickly, “Just because you’re moody doesn’t mean you can’t look pretty.”

The princess smiled weakly before straightening her posture and heading downstairs.

Sooyoung looked around to see nobody in the main room of the castle. She turned to a guard and asked “where’s my dad?”

The guard replied “the king has called a meeting with Prince Jiseok privately in his study. The princess is in the garden, you may find her there along with her handmaiden.”

Sooyoung sighed and thanked the guard, wandering into the garden.

Upon walking past the windows that lined the garden she saw the princess. Her black hair fell effortlessly behind her back, small bangs lightly covering her forehead. She could see the princess giggling as a butterfly landed on her nose, happily kicking her feet on the ground gently. Her smile was the brightest Sooyoung had ever seen, one that had seemed like it never faded, as if it never knew sadness.

“Sooyoungie lets not keep her waiting now.” Hyunjin held the door open, leading Sooyoung out to the garden.

The princess immediately stood up, smiling as she turned to face Sooyoung. The girl let out a high pitched squeal before hugging Sooyoung so tight she felt that her lungs would pop.

“Oh my goodness you are so pretty I can’t believe I’m meeting Ha Sooyoung of the Ha Empire. It’s such an honor! Oh goodness I can’t wait to be best friends! Oh this is my best friend and my handmaiden. Her name is Lalisa Manoban. She is such a good handmaiden oh my goodness this morning she killed this spider in my room. It was so big and scary I thought I was going to die! But she saved me isnt that so nice of her! Oh I see you have a handmaiden too whats her name?!” Jiwoo spoke at least 10 words per second and somehow Sooyoung managed to catch all of them.

Sooyoung stated “it’s nice to meet you too. This is Kim Hyunjin, she’s also my handmaiden and best friend.”

Sooyoung led Jiwoo to her bedroom, not wishing to stay in the outdoors any longer than she had to. Although Jiwoo was in fact very nice, Sooyoung just didnt click with her. She was loud and very excited about every little thing. Her energy was far higher than what Sooyoung was willing to tolerate.

Two hours into Jiwoo rambling on about how she wanted a pet penguin, Hyunjin and Lalisa were notified that the dinner was ready.

The two princesses headed to the main dining room alone with their handmaidens. Sooyoung noticed that second Jiwoo entered the room, her entire demeanor changed. The girl that was just whining about how she wanted a pet penguin was now standing tall, her chin held high with a subtle smile in her face.

“Good evening King Ha, it is a pleasure to meet you this evening.” Jiwoo spoke in an octave that Sooyoung didn’t think the other could actually use. For once her ears weren’t bleeding from the high pitched squeals and shrieks she was used to hearing.

“Good evening Princess Jiwoo, I see you spent time with my Sooyoung.” The king motioned to his daughter, a slight side eye to her as well.

Jiwoo smiled brightly “yes I did. Princess Sooyoung is very sweet, we had a good talk with each other.”

Sooyoung thought about how she did absolutely no talking in the two hours they spent together. She was snapped out of her trance when her father mentioned that she needed to introduce herself.

•

•

•

The dinner itself wasn’t terrible, Sooyoung’s favorite food was served after all. The princess didn’t fail to notice the way Jiwoo’s behavior was one she’d only even seen in her own mother, the queen. The way she was able to give clear and concise answers to every question the king asked. She knew everything about her empire down to each village. Jiwoo knew everything, even things she didn’t need to know, she knew. She was like little miss princess perfect and Sooyoung hated that.

“Jiwoo have you started looking for suitors yet? Perhaps thinking of getting married in the coming years?” The king asked, Sooyoung already knowing if Jiwoo answered yes that it’d be thrown in her face.

Jiwoo’s eyes flickered down then to her brother who nodded gently with a smile. She weakly responded “yes sir I have met a few princes. There hasn’t been one to catch my eye quite yet though. It is always a pleasure meeting new princes though. All of them have been quite polite to me, very good young men.”

The king replied “I wish my Sooyoung could say the same. She has run off upon meeting every suitor, like a little child. I wish she could learn. She is so immature, nothing like you-”

Jiwoo cut him off “I don’t wish to be disrespectful sir, but I think every prince and princess can choose how involved they wish to be with their people. It is not a competition, no need to compare us really.”

The king replied “I must disagree with you on that Princess Jiwoo. I think every child of a royal must be involved. I am saying I think it is very immature of Sooyoung to run off. She doesn’t know anything that happens in the villages either, hell I don’t think she even knows the villages. She does nothing but sit around all day then run off to another kingdom. She doesn’t even respect her own. It’s truly a pity I didn’t get a wonderful daughter like your parents did. You seem much more useful to the throne.”

Sooyoung’s mother gasped and said “Honey now I think that’s enough.” The queen saw the death grip her daughter had on the fork in her hand, the way her eyes were starting to burn with tears.

He continued on, “she doesn’t do anything. No matter what I try to say she doesn’t care. She is a lost cause. This empire deserves better than what she will ever offer it and that is a fact.”

Sooyoung stood up, pushing her seat back in with a loud slam. She flung the door open, walking out quickly, but not fast enough to hear her father say “and there she is running off again. Pathetic.”

[clansayeed]

Hello Jack! When did Kamilah realize that she had taken a liking to Nadya? I may have to go back to reread some chapters but I think I recall Adrian mentioning to Nadya that Kamilah had taken interest in her while they were at the Awakening Ball. I know that back in Destiny book 1 chapter 10 Nadya noticed a bracelet on her wrist that wasn't there before. I'm assuming maybe Kamilah slipped it onto her wrist after she grabbed Nadya's hand to wish her good luck before boarding the train? 🤔 Later on in that chapter Kamilah mentions that claimed mortals can sit wherever and when Nadya asks if she carries the bracelet with her everywhere Kamilah says no. So I'm just curious at what point did Kamilah notice her interest in Nadya? Was it maybe during this chapter or perhaps a few chapters back? I apologize for such a long ask but I've just been thinking about this for some time.

Hey there! Let’s see if I can break it down for ya...

So by the Awakening Ball, Nadya has been living in close-quarters with Kamilah for at least a few weeks now. I’d have to go back and check my official calendar but I know it’s definitely that long at minimum. It’s been, in general, a stressful time for Kamilah; between her Council duties, her business empire... and living with the human equivalent of a chipped teacup. There’s the planner debacle, if you remember, and the usual struggles of having to navigate around a houseguest you... didn’t really want.

But specifically in the train scene, Kamilah pretty much anticipated Adrian being his usual forgetful-if-endearing self, so she slipped the “Clan brand” bracelet onto her wrist as a subtle way to guide Nadya back to them in the VIP cars without causing too much of a fuss or having Adrian forgo sitting with her as he tried to do.

Then, yeah, when Nadya asks...

   “So that’s your Clan symbol?”    “Yes.”    “And you carry that bracelet around everywhere?”    She stops abruptly in front of the entrance to the next car up. Keeps her back turned to Nadya and she has to strain to hear her response over the conversations around them.    “No. I don’t.”

Which is pretty much the Kamilah-equivalent of “it’s no big deal” but obviously it is. But also by this point she’s come to learn things about Nadya -- like that she would very much sit all alone, uncomfortable and surrounded by strangers, if it was expected of her ‘as the human.’ And she... didn’t want to see that? Why? Don’t ask her -- feelings aren’t her strong suit.

And yeah, the corset scene (still my favorite, och) follows those events pretty quickly.

So I’d say if we wanted to pinpoint exactly when Kamilah started to look at Nadya in a different light, it’s not so much measured in a moment or with an event but all the little things sort of adding up by that point. Nadya standing up to her in the elevator, Nadya proving that she’s really there for Adrian as a friend, Nadya being kind to Gerard who has a soft spot in the vampiress’ heart, and other little things that kind of just got... set off by the Ball, I guess?

That... and by the Ball, Adrian had suitably gotten into her head about how tolerant she had become of Nadya’s... Nadyaisms.

[farmhandler]

Subtle

Rating: T

Pairing: Kolivan/Keith

Warnings: Some alien biology, that’s about it

CH: 1/1

A/N: fic/art trade with the wonderful @kolikeith. They requested anything koliveith where another member realizes they are together, which I am only happy to provide!

Regris hates mornings.

It is anunspoken gripe that he has held for what feels like decaphoebs. The Blade of Marmora are early risers by necessity no matter the cycle nor the system. Their latest missions have lead them into systems that have a cycle much shorter than Regris is used to, and as a result they have been sleeping less often and waking more. The sporadic few vargas of sleep they all have managed has been wearing on his team.

Duty first, Kolivan would tell him. Ah, what he would do to sleep in.

“Quiznak,” he swears, vaulting out of bed in one fluid movement. He thwaps his tail against his bedframe in irritation as he makes quick work of his bed and then heads into their communal bathroom space. The other blades are already up and about as he makes his way to the bathroom to wipe his body clean of the moisture it produced overnight. He feels naked without his suit, but it would not make sense to dirty his clothing first thing in the morning.

“Regris,” Antok says as he passes. He is a blade of few words, but some of them he reserves for Regris. They have a strange sort of companionship not found within many of the blade ranks stationed here.

“Did Kolivan mention anything about the data we’ve been decoding?” Regris asks him, getting straight to the point. Antok eats early, and so does Kolivan, and usually Keith if he isn’t trying to get killed on some suicide mission.

Antok shrugs his shoulders. Regris’ tail swings behind him.

“You’re useless,” he says without meaning it, leaving Antok to finish his morning routine and wash his body clean.

To his surprise, he sees Keith leaning against the wall out in front of the communal space, wearing what he can only assume is the human equivalent to sleepwear. Humans have an affinity for dressing in loose clothing at night.

Regris is about to offer him a greeting when Kolivan comes out of the bathroom’s entrance, tugging at the wrists of his suit like he has just finished putting it on. He moves out of the doorway and looms over Keith, saying something quietly to him that has Keith smiling.

Regris stops moving. His tail thrashes behind him. Kolivan does not bathe often, and he is always early. Regris can count on one claw how many times they have met like this. He doesn’t particularly want to awkwardly shuffle past the pair, but the wet state of his skin is bothering him now more than ever.

Someone catches Kolivan’s attention. He steps away from Keith hastily to address them, and Keith looks around like he is surprised to find that they are in public.

When he catches sight of Regris, his face starts to turn pink. Regris cocks his head.

“Keith,” he says on approach. “Have you had a chance to check on the decoding algorithm that we’ve been running? Kolivan wouldn’t let me spend the night with it.”

“Because he knew you’d never leave,” Keith points out. Regris doesn’t point that if he stays up, he doesn’t have to war his way through every morning. He is looking forward to the day they can eradicate sleep entirely. “And no, I haven’t. Everyone on team echo is busy preparing for Kral Zera.”

Kral Zera. The ceremony meant to repair the broken empire. The ceremony that the blades are going to sabotage with a dozen bombs and take out the highest in their ranks.

“I’ll check on it later,” Regris says, and then he awkwardly shuffles past Keith and Kolivan to get to the bathroom.

---

Regris’ concern is always his code. Data. Interpersonal relationships are the furthest thing from his mind when he’s focused on a mission, but even Kral Zera has him rattled.

It is in the middle of the cycle, while a huge batch of data is being processed that he decides to take a rare break and head towards the cafeteria for some food. His stomach helpfully reminds him he skipped breakfast by growling loudly.

He is nearing the cafeteria when he catches the scent of Keith wafting from the other end of the hall. He picks up his pace, eager to find Keith and enumerate over the details of the Kral Zera mission.

When he turns the corner, he is once again surprised by the presence of Kolivan. Lately, the two of them have been appearing together more often than not, their scents intermingling in a way that Regris does not like. Or at the very least, he isn’t certain how to take. It is true that Keith is a valued member of the blades, but his days of being a vratling following its mother are over.

He watches them speak indistinctly, noting the downturn of Keith’s mouth to mean that the conversation is not going well. He lifts his arms in a gesture of expression his frustration, then points in a random direction. His voice echoes a little louder, but Regris still can’t make it out.

“I have been looking for you, Keith,” Regris says upon approach. Both of them turn to stare at him, and he inexplicably feels as though he is intruding. He salutes Kolivan. “I had some questions about the mission for Kral Zera.”

“You are not the only one,” Kolivan tells him. “I had intended to summon the entire team, but since you’re already here, I’ll speak freely.”

“Of course.” Regris inclines his head.

“I was just discussing with Keith how the mission is critical, and that we cannot let our emotions get the better of us.”

Keith scowls openly as Kolivan remains tense beside him. He is standing much closer than the spacious hallway would warrant, but Regris is not one to question.

“Of course,” Regris repeats, looking between them uncertainly. “The mission first.”

“At least you remember it,” Kolivan says, sounding quite unlike himself for a moment. He’s looking at Keith.

“We’re going to be fine,” Keith insists calmly. For all of Kolivan’s talk of holding back one’s emotions, he seems….distraught.

“My simulations have confirmed this is the best course of action,” Regris adds. Kolivan’s expression does not change, his scent sharp with unease. “They will be distracted by the goings-on above, and the entire sector will be guarded by a ghost staff.”

“For once we will benefit from the Galra Empire’s brutality,” Kolivan says, sounding resigned. “I know you will both perform…admirably.”

“Like we always do. We’ll get it done.” Keith turns to Kolivan. “This is going to work.”

“I am not concerned with the mission’s success,” Kolivan states, staring down at Keith. His fingers brush against Keith’s side, and Regris wants to point out there is plenty of space to his right.

“I’ll be returning to my data sets,” Regris says.

“Let me know what you find,” Kolivan tells him, his eyes flicking briefly in his directly before he returns to Keith.

---

Regris doesn’t see Keith alone until a few days later, right before the mission is meant to start.

The first thing he notes is the smell.

Not his smell, but the scent coating his person. It is obviously Kolivan’s. They have been spending much more time together as of late prepping for the mission, so it is not entirely surprising. They eat lunch together often as well, and Keith can be found in Kolivan’s office on any quintant.

“Ready?” Regris asks. Keith nods, and then Regris can’t help but add, “Kolivan appears worried this time around. My simulations and datasets didn’t calm him like they usually do.”

“Yeah,” Keith replies slowly, pulling his hood over his head. “He’s…distracted, I think. Talk about an emotional wreck,” he mumbles under his breath, in a tone that Regris assumes Keith thinks he cannot hear.

“We’ll be fine,” he adds. “It’s a big mission, but isn’t it always? We’ve been through worse.”

Even though it doesn’t sound like Keith is talking to him, Regris nods.

“And another thing—”

“Keith.”

Kolivan’s voice suddenly sounds from beside them. Neither of them flinch at the sharp tone of his voice, too used to surprises as a spy unit, but Keith’s eyes instantly light up.

“Kolivan!” he says, stepping forward. He pulls his hood down. “Aren’t you supposed to be briefing team alpha?”

“Yes, I was. I just finished. As if I could leave without my echo,” he says fondly. Regris’ tail flicks behind him. His scent wafts over; he smells like Keith smells like him.

Ah, he thinks as he watches Kolivan take Keith’s braided hair in hand, making some excuse that he has done it incorrectly. Recently, Keith had decided to grow a braid. Regris is a Galra half-breed, and since he does not grow hair, its significance often escapes him.

He watches Kolivan stroke his fingers down the length in an intimate gesture and thinks, ah.

“Ah,” he says out loud.

Kolivan jerks like he just realizes Regris is there. He was near the doorway, shadowed partially, so it is possible. Apparently, many things are possible.

And now Kolivan is staring at him like he wants to murder him. As if he were to blame for his flagrant display of affection. Regris swallows, then gestures to his pad. “I was just reviewing the data with Keith.”

“The data. Yes.” He clears his throat. “Very well. I would like to hear about it. Please continue.”

Keith’s face is pink again. As the pieces are still slowly coming together, Regris remembers vaguely that it is an indicator for embarrassment, or perhaps happiness?

“If you look at this diagram, it should be easy for our spies to hide here, and then with our blades they can slice through the metal wall after arriving here…”

All the while he speaks, Kolivan stands closer to Keith than is socially acceptable among the hierarchy. Then, when Regris moves to scribble at his pad and correct a mistake, out of the corner of his eye he sees Kolivan lean down, and Keith lean up.

“I have corrected the mistake,” he announces loudly. When he lifts his head, they are both looking at him innocently. He says nothing to the pair—they will hear enough later once this gets out, but his tail swings gently back and forth, and for once he hopes that there will be a peaceful end to this adventure soon.

Mostly, so he can sleep in one morning. For once.

[waitjustaflick]

Mixed Metaphor

So apparently, I am doing this HLWeek thing.  Below is a short written for Day 2 - Favorite Scene/Moment. I could sooner choose my favorite moment of Han and Leia as I could choose a favorite star in the sky, but what came to mind is the look Han’s face (or the series of looks) when he goes to say goodbye to his Princess at the beginning of the Empire Strikes Back.  He is so vulnerable, both hopeful and hurt before he throws up his shields again.  

I actually wrote about this exact moment here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11956289/4/Never-Will-I-Ever

But here’s an original based on the idea of that vulnerability he has around Leia.  Might possibly connect to the short I wrote yesterday.  Maybe.  ;)

~~~~~~~

He’d always had a good sabacc mask.  If there was one thing he could count on in this scrap heap mess of a galaxy, it was that he could keep his cards close.  No one saw anything he didn’t want them to.

Oh sure, sometimes he’d let it loose.  He was nothing if not demonstrative.  If a part crapped out or a system went slack on the Falcon, you’d hear about it.  If some knuckle-headed pilot or two-faced informant ran his mission afoul, they’d know he was pissed.  And if one of his friends was in trouble, he would use everything he had - charm, resolve and outright violence - to get them out of harm’s way.

But, those were the things he wanted you to know about.

There were other things, much more subtle, uncomfortably nuanced that Han held close to his heart.  

The way Chewie’s unflagging loyalty made him feel like a son, a brother, and a father all at once.

The way Luke’s boyish exuberance brought back a childhood that Han would rather forget and made him wish it had been spent with a passel of kids to pal around with and protect.

And pretty much anything having to do with Princess Leia Organa.  

What people didn’t realize was the shape his mask took.  It wasn’t cool indifference.  It was blustering pride.  It wasn’t heated, molten anger.  It was all those things.  That’s what made it so damn good.

Whenever he felt that pesky little organ activate, that thing both mysterious and unavoidable in the upper lefthand center of his chest, he would throw up the mask again.  His chameleon-skinned cover would take whatever shape it needed to.  

He could admit to himself more readily than to anyone else that it wasn’t always pleasant, for him or for those he came in contact with. He was an opportunist, he was a pragmatist, he was a survivor.  It was all he knew, and it had served him pretty well for the first 30 years of his life.

Didn’t seem to be working as of late though.

As a pilot and an accidental engineer, Han knew a lot about machines.  They were cool hunks of metal, plasticine, and glass twisted and shaped by fire and air, then run by the same combination.  Give it a source of power, enough oil and a space to do its thing and it’d purr for you like a moon cat.

He’d thought of himself that way for a while.  He ran on anger, oiled it in charm, and gave himself enough freedom to do his thing.  

The thing about machines was, they didn’t do well with water.  They could withstand a little bit, but a steady stream of it would corrode the inner workings, maybe cause a short, and a torrent would douse the whole damn thing, possibly taking it to a state of no return, no repair.

He thought about love that way.

A little bit was fine.  His inner workings were strong enough to withstand it, maybe they could even do with a little cleaning, get the gunk off, keep ‘em nice and shiny.  But a steady patter, a sprung leak, now that could be a problem.  He’d worked over the last couple years to keep the water at bay, to live in that comfy place between just enough and not too much.

But, lately, it seemed the leaks were springing up all over the place.

The sound she made when she was absorbed in a task, a little growl in the back of her throat both frustrated and pleased with her progress.  

That damn hair.  No matter what she did with it, it was always so silky-looking, such a rich dark color, the color of chocolate and whiskey and all good things.  But, she never wore it down, so he would have to imagine how he’d untwist those braids, where the do ended and she began.

The time he’d made her laugh.  Really laugh.  A few months into this dangerous game.  He hadn’t really meant to.  To be honest, he’d been furious, attempting to plug an actual leak in the main hold of the Falcon.  He and the Princess had been fighting over which way to turn a wrench (like she would know with her lily-white politican’s hands) and they’d pulled the whole damn enclosure off.

The water had come out in torrents practically drowning them and he’d sputtered and hissed like  that selfsame moon cat forced into a bath tub and she had laughed, so loud and long that his anger had been doused and all he’d been left with was a bubble of joy so intense that there’d been nothing for it but to burst.  He’d laughed with her, drowning in her half moon eyes and bright white teeth and that sound, so full and rich and full of life.

It had taken a week to dry out the Falcon, during which time he’d been grounded and springing more leaks than he could cope with.

His head hurt as he thought through this bizarre metaphor.  Since when had he become a damn poet?  

He glanced around the Falcon quiet and sleeping, settled into the hangar for the night with all the other good little ships.  He frowned into the silence, wondering why it felt off.  Everything was in its place, the ship was in better shape than she’d been in a while, fitted with a new converter that Leia had secured for them after a particularly impressive weapons run.

And there it was.

Leia.

He…missed her.  

She wasn’t far.  Tucked into her quarters off in the bowels of the base.  Safe as she could be in a rebel encampment just out of reach of the Galactic Empire that wanted her dead.

But, somehow, through some bizarre series of circumstances, he felt deep down in his bones, past the masks and the machine parts and all the wet, wet, wet, that he needed her here.

Shaking his head, he sprang from his seat and looked for something to do.  This wasn’t him, this wasn’t smart.  He was getting attached, he was becoming a sodden fool, and if he kept going like this there’d be no coming back, no drying out.

He should really leave.  Should’ve left after that first mission, that first reward.  

But the truth was, he was thirsty.  And the scarier truth was, he might not be a machine after all.

That would mess up the whole metaphor.

So, he found something to do, a thing that didn’t really need doing, in the cockpit of his ship.  It as a tangle of wires that functioned well-enough but looked like hell whenever he opened the navigation panel.  

He got to work, but as kept happening lately, his fingers felt larger and clumsier than they usually did.  His focus would wander, to the graceful curve of her neck or the frosty determination of her stubbornness.  He even found that sexy.  Most women were so easily coaxed from one mood to another, but Leia would stick to her guns as long as she damn well pleased.

There was only one sentient he knew that had the same level of bullheadedness…

“Han,” he looked up to find the object of his musings wringing her hands at the entrance to his cockpit and the damn mask fell right off.

She was pale and a little mussed, a couple wisps coming out of her clumsily coifed hair.  Her big brown eyes were wide and her mouth was reddened, as if she’d been chewing on her lip (like she did when she was nervous).  And most importantly, she was here, looking at him, talking to him.

The bubble of joy burst into a bright smile across his face.

“Leia.”