Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You hold your breath as the doors into the Council room move smoothly into the wall, granting you entry for your meeting with your superiors that you had hurriedly scheduled upon seeing who was joining you for one of the most trying missions along the course of your Jedi career. 

“Why is it that you wish to speak to us? I can feel the tension in your Force signature,” Plo Koon says to you, a neutral but concerned look in his eyes.

“I’d like to speak of my partner that has been placed with me for my upcoming assignment, Skywalker.” You hide the sweat that’s beginning to form on your hands by placing them inside of the sleeves of your dark robes.

“Speak what about him, will you?” Yoda inquires, leaning on his cane in an intrigued manner while sitting in his thoroughly cushioned chair.

“Of us being paired together on the assignment in regards to the thug lord on Hosnian Prime.”

“If you are experiencing any qualms, know now that your pairing with Skywalker was no accident.” Windu’s voice had a slight edge to it, which wasn’t unusual. What surprised you was his sudden exclamation that you and Skywalker were put together intentionally, as you had thought that the members knew of your rivalry with the smug faced man.

“I— If I may ask, why would you purposefully put us in the same room as each other?” You were utterly bewildered, your brow raised in surprise. The council must be a lot less wise than you had thought they were.

“Are you questioning our methods?” Dank farrik, this was already going wrong.

“Oh, no! Of course not, Master Windu. I was just going to suggest that I could perhaps be traded into a different… grouping, of sorts? I wholeheartedly think that the mission would run much smoother.” Windu sighs, pinching his nose disappointedly.

“This is not a discussion, young padawan,” he states, stoic as ever and already knowing how this meeting would end.

“I understand, Master, but I truly don’t think that this mission will go as well as it could be if I was paired with someone else—“

“As a Jedi, you do know that peace and balance are important throughout the galaxy, and are an important way of life for those inside of the Order, yes?”

“Yes, completely. But—“

“So then you understand that you need to make peace with Skywalker.”

Peace with him? He had become even more insufferable after he had been denied the rank of master Jedi. Of course, you wouldn’t deny that the look on his face after the fact was absolutely priceless, but the aftershocks of his rejection were starting to get to you. Every minuscule detail about him that had annoyed you previously had practically doubled in his efforts to prove himself to the rest of the Council, his need for praise in full throttle.

The room had gone quiet, something you were all too familiar with when it meant that Windu and the rest of the Council were obviously done speaking with you. You lower your head, the conclusion of your meeting going completely different than you had anticipated. Skywalker was an ignorant piece of bantha fodder that you could barely tolerate being around, much less stuck in a tiny ship with for a few days. With a dissatisfied sense of defeat, you turn the other direction to walk out of the sliding doors to begin to pack the few belongings you would need for your mission, but not before hearing something else from the Council.

“The two of you may be more similar than you think. Skywalker had the same conversation with us minutes before you came in.”

Son of a bitch. He had beat you to it. What were you thinking? Of course he had. His obnoxious obsession with having to be first at everything probably had him sprinting here to arrive before you.

“Do try to reconcile with Skywalker. The two of you could achieve great things if you simply worked with one another.” Yeah right. As if that ape in robes would ever be capable of doing anything related to working in a team.

When you were younger, everything you did seemed to be a competition to him. In what was supposed to be a simple sparring match, he’d almost knocked you out, leaving you with a nasty lump on your head and a trip to the infirmary. When you were researching a topic for a mission that you had found out about on your own and could potentially score you some points with the Order, you found him in the library, already claiming that it was all his idea to an eons-old librarian there. With the amount of gossip she partook in every day, the tale of ‘Anakin’s brilliant research’ was already being spoken of in all corners of the temple. On that day, you had to meditate in your room for over two hours straight just so that you wouldn’t wring his bronzed little neck.

And now, on the mission that could potentially bring you the closest you’ve ever been to becoming a Jedi Master, he was going to be a thorn at your side the entire time. For many padawans, the style of mission that would determine whether they would be promoted normally included being grouped with another student for a job increasingly important than any of their previous solo ones. These could go from assignments such as rescuing an ally political figure, being judged on how well you handled said assignment, to how you both react in a tense public situation, testing your patience and morals. You know for a fact that Skywalker will be incredibly overeager on every step of this mission in order to make himself look good, his hurt pride letting him go leaps and bounds worse in a team-player situation. Maker, your patience truly was being tested in any direction you turned.

You storm your way over to the dormitories, wanting to get this mission over and done with as soon as possible, heading through the halls with your mind just about boiling over. You’re about to open the door into your room when, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a disgustingly familiar figure heading down the corridor. Narrowing your eyes and closing the difference between you two, you immediately accuse him of the first inconvenience that you can think of, because he wholeheartedly deserved it.

“You idiot! I would have been able to convince them to seperate us if you hadn’t gone in there first and mucked everything up.” With the intensity of how hard Skywalker rolls his eyes, you’d think they’d drop back into his skull. He crosses his arms defensively, his Nerf leather vest  squeaking in the process, before speaking.

“I had them debating among themselves when I left, so you must have made such a terrible speech that this nightmare,” he beckons back and forth between you both in a derogatory fashion, “is happening. Oh, and good evening to you, too, by the way.” His voice was practically oozing with sarcasm.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you say, seeing right through his little plastic greeting.

“My apologies for being sociable, which is a skill I know that I’ve mastered more than someone I know.”

“You’re not being sociable, you’re just being an ass, and you know it,” you say, already completely done with him for the day after two minutes of being around him. “You’re obviously just trying to practice your holier than thou routine after you were oh so sadly denied the rank of Master. They’ll see right through it too, y’know.”

“See? This is what I mean. Are you capable of any other setting besides ‘snarky,‘ or is that the only emotion that you have?” He shifts his weight to one leg. “And I’m definitely going to be jumping up in rank soon enough, young one.”

“We’re practically the same age!”

“There’s that snark again,” he says in a matter of fact tone.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and balling your fists into tight, angry and potentially destructive balls at your side, screaming internally before you open your eyes again, a smile plastered onto your face.

“You know what? I don’t have to deal with this right now,” you say, shaking your head and rubbing your fingers on your temples annoyedly. “I’m going to try and make the most of what’s left of today before I have to withstand you after we take off tomorrow.”

You turn around and take another step into your doorway, the whoosh of it opening making the hair on your head move the slightest amount. The chilly, relaxing air helped to cool off some of the steam coming out of your ears.

“That might be the first good idea you’ve had since I met you.” The unfounded, arrogant little smile on his mouth that he’s already used a hundred times this month is making its appearance yet again. He’s just asking for a blaster bolt straight in the kybers, isn’t he? You hope he can see the irritation in your body language as you stiffly turn towards him one last time.

“I’ll see you on the ship, laser brain. Until then, screw you.” He tries to say something, but you put a hand in front of his face, shushing him. “Oh, and at least try to read the holo pad on the dealer we’re after, if you even know how to, yeah? I’m trying to actually get promoted, unlike someone I know.”

You don’t even wait to gauge what his response is, feeling thoroughly proud of yourself that you had just spun his own words back on him. You turn right around and step through your door, closing it directly in his irritating face and stubbornly not opening it again until morning after breakfast time.

Unfortunately for you, shutting the door like this caused you to miss the chance to see him slowly trudging in the other direction. He was muttering under his breath some laughably weak comebacks to respond to you with, such as “Of course I know how to read, you… nutcase” and “No, you’re the one that has a laser brain,” ultimately giving up his attempts at the end of the hallway and continuing to the training room to get some extra practice in before tomorrow’s vital outing.

Chapter Text

You had experienced a refreshing night of sleep, not tossing and turning or having a batch of restlessness as you had expected when you had gone to bed. When you woke, the day seemed to be filled with potential and positivity, and you were practically radiating glee. That is, until you remembered what was on your to-do list today.

After that, you tried to stretch out your getting ready process as much as possible, staring off into empty space for five minutes before you actually stood out of bed. Now it seemed as if giant weights had been strapped to your feet with how begrudgingly you walked around, not excited for what was to come. You even decided to take a shower even though you didn’t feel the slightest bit dirty, wanting the water to wash away your newfound melancholy.

This was not going to be fun.

As you hop out of the fresher, you slip on the clothing that you had placed in a jumbled pile on the toilet next to you. The black fabric stood out against the monochromatic interior surrounding you, feeling more special than the regularly issued beige clothes that mostly everyone in the temple wore. Your robes were special to you, giving you a small sense of individuality in comparison to your brethren, even though too much pride in one’s self is not encouraged.

Unfortunately, the combined mixture of the idea of pride along with fond thoughts of your dark clothing reminded you of a scenario in which the man whom you were dreading meeting with today was being an ass, yet again.

You had gone to Cato Neimoidia recently to confer with an ally of the Republic that you and your Master needed to speak with in person. When the meeting had ended hours earlier than expected, your Master allowed you to visit one of your good friends that had settled down on the mountainous planet. When you had settled down by her fireplace and started a conversation with her, she suddenly got up and grabbed a neatly wrapped package from another room, gifting you some stunning black robes that she had found in a shop while on vacation.

“These will just look divine on you, I swear,” she had said, holding them up against your body to make sure they would fit you just right.

You had been telling your Master to drive your ship back to the temple as fast as possible so earnestly that he had to anxiously remind you of certain bylaws, as an accident could occur. Your clothes had been off as soon as your bedroom door closed behind you, whisking your gifted robes right out of the box and trying them on. They were perfect. The material was flexible enough for you to be able to get your way around a scuffle if needed, but also not too thick for you to overheat. The way that they were fashioned also suited your tastes almost exactly, which excited you so much that you decided to wear them to your evening dueling practice to break them in.

When you entered the sparring room, everything was as it had always been; the walls were thickly padded for protection from harsh blows, staffs were still lined up on a rack, ready to be used, and a few padawans and masters were scattered across the room. The only thing that seemed to be different, however, was Skywalker.

You did a double take when you had seen him, as he was also wearing jet black robes almost identical to yours, say for minute details and the addition of a vest. He was sporting a reaction similar to yours, walking up to you at the front of the room with an accusatory glint in his eyes.

“Are you wearing—“

“Why are you—“

You both spoke at the same time, painting a picture in your heads that the other was obviously trying to get in your head in some way.

“I had them first, so you’re obviously trying to distract me,” he said, not a hint of doubt emanating from him even though he was completely wrong.

“No, I had them first. Your little plan to get me worked up isn't going to have the outcome you want.”

“Well, I’m not going to change for such a small reason as you deciding to imitate me.”

“I did not imitate you!”

“Sure.”

“I’m not going to change, either, dickhead. You can’t own a color.”

“Language, padawan!” Master Kenobi stated in your direction, a disapproving tone in his voice.

“Sorry!” You say over Skywalker’s shoulder, striking right back at him after you do so. “I’m wearing them. End of conversation.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

After the fact, the two of you walked up to the center of the room, bumping into each other purposefully along the way in the hopes of making the other trip.

“You’re acting like a youngling, Anakin,” you heard Master Kenobi say to Skywalker when he had reached him, a small chuckle leaving you after he had looked back at you with a glare. 

You both grabbed your wooden staffs, and as soon as one of the Masters had said ‘go,’ the two of you sparred with a ferocity that could rival that of an overdramatized holo soap opera. You had both gone to bed with more than a few bruises that day.

You shake your head to stop yourself from reliving the memory, searching the floor of your room for the robe you had thrown down onto it without a care in the world the previous night. When you finally find it, the fabric has more than a few wrinkles littering its length, so you try to smooth them out with your hands to no avail. Truthfully, though, you didn’t think it really mattered. The only person you’ll really be interacting with today anyways is Skywalker, and what should you care of how put together you look around him?

You grab a small bag that you had filled with a few credits and simplistic packaged food, enough to supply you for a good amount of time. Taking one last look around the room, you pat the wall in a goodbye of sorts, as you’re to be gone for a few days. As you head in the opposite direction of where you had come from the night before and towards the ship hangar, your stomach gurgles in the process. You had taken so long to leave your room that the time for breakfast was over, and the only thing that you could do was get on your ship and go. 

You were anxious. And, contrary to what he would think, you weren’t anxious just about Skywalker. This could affect your whole future inside of the Order. Whether or not you would be knighted could rely heavily on how successful you are on this mission, and Maker how amazing being knighted would be. You would be able to actually help others in need instead of trailing like a lost loth cat behind your Master all of the time, and this journey of yours was a deciding factor of if you would have that opportunity in the future.

A stressor other than the thought of your Knighthood was the fact of just who you were trying to apprehend on your trip. You were up against a major problem slash crime boss known as Shilgad Jackooff. You had burst out laughing at the mention of his last name, especially when told so by someone with as serious a face as Master Windu, but you had been scolded for your outburst immediately. Apparently, if the criminal even saw someone smile at the mention of his name, it was curtains for them. He must have been made fun of so much that he was really sensitive about it now. But who even does that? “Oh, you think my name is funny? Well, fuck you!” Overdramatic, much?

Other than his absolutely ridiculous last name, you knew a fair amount of information about Jackooff from your studies of his criminal records and eyewitness accounts in which the witness hadn’t already retracted their statement or experienced a coerced account of ‘amnesia.’ You were attempting to pull together a somewhat feasible plan rather unsuccessfully in the amount of time that it took to walk from your room to the hangar, and were listing the most important facts or chinks in his metaphorical armor that you knew of inside of your head.

The first thing that you knew about him was that he was a Trandoshan. He’d be hard to fight in hand to hand combat, as his scales would likely hurt your fist more than them. You’d have to carry a weapon at all times. Trandoshans were also well known for their love of hunting for sport, perfecting their fighting abilities with live, fully sentient beings. They were nasty little lizard people, so you’d have to be extra careful. He’d have more than a few tricks up his sleeve.

The reptile-like man also sported a weakness for hired company. Whether it be for sexual activities or merely to have something pretty at his side, he preferred to have a bedazzled person in his presence so that he could show them off to those who came to speak or deal with him. This is something that you were still running over in your head, as you wouldn’t want to start a fight with him when an innocent person is on his arm. Collateral damage is a no-no, and the escort wasn’t hurting anyone by just being there.

Third, he frequented a club in Hosnian Prime’s capital city called Silhouette. You would have to get him into a less crowded area so that his guards wouldn't be as big of a problem, making him easier to apprehend. He lived in a high rise several stories above the club, so you’d have to figure out how to get there if needed, too.

You’re just about to dredge up any other information that you have stored in your head when you reach the hangar bay, the doors opening being much larger than the ones you normally interact with inside of the temple. Your T-6 shuttle was parked to your right, a few other ships being prepared for takeoff soon or simply being stored for later use. From this distance, you could see the outline of your Master waiting for you, as well as Kenobi and Skywalker. The pair were off to the side having a conversation, thank goodness, but your Master was still tapping his foot at the entrance of the ship with his arms crossed.

“You’re late, padawan,” he says, obviously disappointed.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up in my morning meditation session in preparation for today.” You were spewing utter bullshit to him, but your response was definitely better received than the truth of you just not wanting to go.

“Make sure to keep an eye on your clock next time. Have you packed everything that you need?”

“All of it’s in here,” you say, raising up your bag to show him that it’s full.

“Did you bring food? Jedi aren’t all too welcome in crime bars, so it’s better to pack something to eat in case you aren’t allowed inside.” He was always worrying.

“Yes, I know, Master. I packed food and clothing enough for the time I’ll be spending there.”

“Did you grab enough credits? And, well…” He coughs, lowering his voice. “...Feminine products?”

“Master! Of course I did. I don’t think I’d forget that there’s a possibility that on this mission that I’ll bleed out my—“

“Good, good!” He clears his throat once again, obviously declaring that discussion as over with. “I just want to make sure that you have everything that you need, as Jedi should be prepared for every situation. This could—“

“Determine my future in the Order, I know. I’m not a youngling anymore, Master. I’m prepared to deal with this thug.”

“I’m glad that you and Anakin are both ready, padawan. A calm mind is a focused one,” Master Kenobi says. He and Skywalker meet you at the ship’s entrance, both Masters obviously ready to send the two of you off. You and Skywalker exchange a dirty look upon meeting.

“That’s entirely true. Be careful, my padawan,” your Master says to you, patting your shoulder with one hand and motioning into the ship with his other. You step on, the metal clanking against your shoes, and set your bag against the wall. Skywalker gets on behind you after a last back and forth with Master Kenobi, practically stomping on board.

“I’ll fly,” he says, not even glancing your way as he heads to the cockpit. You’re familiar with this ship; it’s not the most spacious, but it’s good for a pair or two of people that are planning to travel. The cockpit holds two seats that are side by side, letting one person be a co-pilot if necessary. The thing is, even though Skywalkers’ arrogance about claiming driving privileges perturbed you, your flying skills were sub par. You’d rather gaze at the places outside of the windows than be focusing on all of the controls necessary to guide a ship through space.

You wave at your Master one last time, standing just before the edge of the ship’s entrance, before you step back onto the solid metal of its floor, pressing your palm against a circular button on the wall to close the door. It slowly goes upwards, lifting from the floor to the ceiling, fully encompassing your vision of the familiar hangar bay in front of you until all that you see is ridged metal.

You close your eyes, breathing in deeply to clear your mind before you turn around and step into the cockpit, sitting down in the chair next to the man in the pilot’s seat next to you.

“Do you have the coordinates?” You ask while staring at your holo pad, wondering if he’d need them as he didn’t have his own out.

“Of course I do. I’m not a fool,” he responds, cold and calloused. Whoa ho ho, someone’s feisty.

“There’s no need to act like that, Skywalker. The least we can do is be civil with each other until this is over with.” 

“I’m not acting like anything. Put on your seatbelt.” He presses a few buttons on the overhead before readying the steering.

“Hey, I’m trying to act like a Jedi here. Can you at least attempt to put in some effort too?” You’re trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s difficult when he has that moody little tone of his. You snap your seatbelt in before he says anything else.

“An effort to be self absorbed? I’ll pass on that opportunity, thank you.” What is wrong with him? You hadn’t even done anything this time. Strike one. Three strikes and he is out.

“Well someone’s projecting, aren’t you?” You say sarcastically, putting your hands in the air to exaggerate the statement. He only scoffs at this, turning his head to you with an annoyed incredulous look before looking forward once again. Without warning, he starts the ship and flies it out of the hangar at a higher speed than one of a generally sane mind normally would, gluing you to the back of your seat until he goes back to a normal speed once you’re out of orbit. 

“A bit of a notice would have been nice,” you say with a huff, finally able to unglue your arms and peel them off from their previous position, which had been pinned to either side of you from the force of the ship rising.

Since Hosnian Prime was only ninety minutes away without light speed, using it would be a waste of fuel, making flying with either manual or autopilot more rational supplies wise. Of course, Skywalker decided that he’d rather fly manually, being the little flyboy he was, so the trip would feel more rocky but also be quicker than with a computer operating the ship for you. It’s silent in the cockpit save for the movements of his hands against the system, and you sigh, running a hand across your eyes before saying something.

“You did actually read up on Jackooff like I suggested last night, right?”

“Opposingly to what you think, I had read about him before you had said that.”

“Do you have any sort of plan in mind for how we’ll get him back to the Temple for the Council to deal with him?”

“Well, isn’t there only one good idea to infiltrate his club?” 

Huh?

“What do you mean? Tell me.”

“He likes a bit of eye candy on the side, so you’ll probably have to dress up as an escort or something in that line of reasoning.” Now just wait a minute. He wanted you, an experienced padawan, to go and play dress up and seduce this guy? No. No.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, that makes sense, right? He likes pretty girls, and you’re a girl, or so I’m told.”

“It doesn’t say that he only likes women, Skywalker. So why don’t you go and whore yourself out, hm?” His face goes red at this, glancing around before clearing his throat.

“I’d rather not.” His voice is quiet, but you still heard him. So he didn’t want to show some skin?

“Rather not what? Be half naked in front of a powerful crime lord? Because I sure as shit don’t want to either. Maybe we could get you one of those black mesh shirts, show off your nipples a little bit—“

“Maker no! I get cold really easily, okay? Do you want me freezing my fingers off in the middle of the bar?”

“That’s a shitty excuse.”

“Fine. Then what are we going to do?”

“Stone Data Plasma? Two out of three.”

“How do you know about that game? It originated in Tatooine.”

“I’m not living under a rock. Games spread to different areas, you know.” You roll your eyes at him. “So, we good for two out of three?” He scowls at you, about to say some snotty remark towards your suggestion before he realizes that it’s the best idea that you both have.

“No. Whoever loses the first round has to be the escort.”

“Yes sir,” you say, emphasizing his bossiness. You reach out your hands, waiting for him to get to a point in his flying that he could do a quick round of Stone Data Plasma, and count to three, revealing your two answers to each others’ eyes. His fist resembling a stone smashes into your two outstretched fingers that represent plasma in triumph, his loud cheering making your ears bleed. You’re left to rub your hand in consolation from how hard he slammed it and wallow in defeat.

You didn’t expect yourself to have to have your tits out for this mission, but you’d just have to try and make the most of it however you could. He’s already back in flying mode when you bring up what his role is going to be.

“Well, I’m still not going to go inside of there alone. You need a disguise too. Are you good at making drinks?”

“I can pour things, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, dumbass. Can you create an alcoholic beverage?”

“I don’t really cruise around bars, so no.” Now that’s a genuine surprise. You’d think a guy like him would be partying every minute he’s not at the temple.

“Well, just try mixing different things that look right around with each other. Make a pretty color or something, I dunno.” Alcohol is alcohol, no matter how shitty the drink is, right? You weren’t really too familiar with the stuff either, though.

“Where are you going with this?” His fingers tap against the steering rhythmically, the tiny sound being projected louder inside of the small space.

“There’s a new donator for the club that has a passion for bartending, and I know that Jackooff hasn’t seen him yet. That’s your chance to get in without any suspicion, because his first public appearance as one of the investors is tomorrow. You can pretend that you’re him.” He’d fit the role of scumbag club owner a little too well.

“Now that I can do,” he says, relief spreading across his features. Of course he gets the fun job.

“It’s not ‘can.’ You’re going to do that. It’s the least you can do if I’m going to be parading myself around like a vagina on a stick.”

“Hey, that was a fair deal. You’re the one that went up against my hometown’s Stone Data Plasma champ.” He smiles at this arrogantly, cracking his knuckles before placing them back on steering. He just loves the idea of you losing, doesn’t he? “Also, that’s a disgusting image that you placed inside of my head. Who even says ‘vagina on a stick?’ You can’t just kebab them—”

“It— that wasn’t meant to be too deeply thought about. Just keep your eyes on the space in front of you, nerf herder.” You say, settling deeper into your chair and getting comfortable. This was going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

When you enter Hosnian Prime’s atmosphere after spending the rest of your ride in silence, you welcome the hustle and bustle that you hear through the walls of the ship that softly break through from the outside the closer you get to reaching the ground. Heavy rain is coating the planet at the moment, creating an almost ominous atmosphere as Skywalker maneuvers the two of you through the thick clouds and fog that are created from this.

In an attempt to be more discreet, you tell Skywalker to park the ship a couple cities away from the one where Jackooff is located so as your little shopping excursion wouldn’t be noted by anyone. When the T-6 finally lands on the ground, the rain droplets that splatter against the windshield create enough of a racket to sound like blaster fire, and great, billowing thunder can be heard distantly. Unfortunately for you, the galleria that included several different clothing stores for you to peruse through is annoyingly far away from the parking lot that you landed in.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you also didn’t pack an umbrella,” you say, staring out the window at the huge splashes of water appearing every second.

“Unfortunately, no. Guess we timed our trip perfectly with the monsoon season here.” You’re about to throw an insult about him being too much of an airhead to check the weather patterns before coming here before you realize that you didn’t either, instead biting your tongue.

“Is there not a closer place to park at all?” The ship was well off from the cluster of stores, so it would be a lot easier if you were closer to them.

“No, I’ve checked all around. There’s no others close by.”

“You could just drop me off, you know. Then I won’t be a billion parsecs away from the stores.”

“No no,” he says, swiveling his chair over to you. He swivels a bit far to the right at first though, making him have to adjust it a foot back to the left awkwardly before continuing. “I’m coming in with you. You’re not about to spoil my receiving rank of Master by getting kidnapped or murdered on this mission.”

“Wow, I’m surprised that I’ve never realized just how much of a gentleman you are!” You say, a faux look of shock on your face that continues as you slowly raise your arm up and reveal the middle finger that you were holding up directly at him. He blinks at you a few times with a glare before adjusting his robes, putting his hood over his head and standing up.

“Let’s just get this over with.” You grin at his pouty demeanor before you equip your own hood, beginning to step towards the ship’s exit before realizing that you almost forgot your credits, which you probably need if you have to buy something. You quickly zoom back to your bag, rifling through it until you find the currency at the bottom, before heading back over to the exit. Skywalker had been leaning against the wall, impatiently tapping his foot as he watched you grab the credits before you finally came over again.

“You took so long that I actually arrested Jackooff already; I even had a snack while I was waiting for you,” he says sarcastically, moving himself away from the wall and pressing the button above the one you had hit earlier at the Temple to instead open the door. You stand quietly while the door opens at an incredibly slow pace, partially stewing at him acting like a twat to you before you decide to get a word in and break the silence.

“For the record, I can handle myself just fine.”

“Sure you can.”

“Have I not kicked your ass in more than a few sparring matches between us, or does my memory fail me?”

“First off, I’ve won more of those than you. Secondly, neither of us have ever been on this planet before. I just think it’s safer if we stay together.” If you didn’t hate his vile guts so much, you’d think that was kind of sweet. You notice that before he says something else, he blinks hard, an unreadable look in his eyes that had been there before now gone. “We don’t want you becoming a damsel in distress.”

Nope. He ruined it.

“You do realize that we’re both well trained in wielding lightsabers,” you say, the chilly breeze of the outside air creeping in through the slowly opening door practically blowing through your thick robes. “And if I had to choose a Prince Charming to come save me, you’d be the last on my list— kriff it’s cold outside.” You attempt to stifle the harsh winds from cutting into you by wrapping your cloaked arms closer around your body, hearing him scoff to the right of you while doing so.

“Whatever you try to say, I’m coming with you.” With that, he steps off of the ramp and onto the cold and rainy planet outside. You can see him trying to continue looking big and strong while still shivering from the cold, and you smile at the sight.

You also step off of the ship, bracing yourself for the chilly rain droplets that would fall upon your skin once out and making sure to close the door behind you. You actually slip once on a small patch of ice, almost falling over but steadying yourself in the nick of time, only to have Skywalker’s roaring laughter at your accident be aimed at you. You do a small hand gesture underneath the arms of your robes, using the Force to give just a nudge to his feet and have him trip as well. On this occurrence, you didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for using the Force in that manner, as he stopped laughing immediately after the fact.

When you finally reach the galleria, the two of you don’t even glance at the name of the store that you stampede into for the purpose of getting away from the battering elements. Your clothes had blocked the rain a little bit, but your face was now soaked with water and you were dripping onto the expensive looking tile at your feet. Skywalker seemed to be having the same problem. You try removing your robe and folding it over your arm to try and withhold at least some form of decency in this fancy place, just noticing the several faces of customers that had been staring at you. You smile awkwardly, hoping to keep up the Jedi image, but they just snigger and duck their heads back down into their shopping.

“I think we’re underdressed,” you whisper to Skywalker as you see one of the employees of the store walk by in an outfit that’s coated in a silky, golden material that coasts behind her when she walks. She even had a little headdress that accentuated her lekku, making her look all the more regal. You would have thought she owned the place if she didn’t have a name tag plastered onto the dress.

“You think?” He responds, attempting to rustle the water out of his hair and force it into dryness with no result. A Devoronian employee glides over to the two of you upon seeing you enter, a smile upon her lightly patterned face.

“Good afternoon! Is there anything that I could be of assistance to you with?” Her hands are crossed and holding each other in the middle of her body, making her look even more professional than she already did. She was sporting the same attire as the other employee that you had just seen. You smile back at her, her friendliness hard not to reciprocate.

“Yes, actually…” You take a glimpse at her name tag so that you could address her properly. “…Roxie, thank you! Could you show us the dress section, please?” The store looked huge in comparison to the small glimpse that you got while sprinting inside, and you’d rather not waste any time finding your way through the maze.

Her brows come together in a quizzical expression before speaking. “Of course! We don’t get too many customers for that reason, so you’re a rarity. Please follow me,” she says, turning the other direction and walking swiftly around the nearest corner. Her heels clacked against the floor as she stepped, giving you the sensation of a toddler following behind their mother.

As the three of you make your way through the store, Skywalker stares in every direction, marveling at the luxurious surroundings that you’re passing through. You’re not much better than him, eyes as big as moons as you take in the curtains of a deep, rich velvet color covering windows that overlook the courtyard and chandeliers that have layers upon layers of fine crystal hanging from them. You don’t really pay attention to the details of the products that are being sold too much, too engulfed in the architecture of the building itself to care about such small things. When you eventually bring your eyes down and get a glimpse of the merchandise, your fever dream dissolves entirely.

“Skywalker,” you say, nudging him in the ribs lightly to get his attention away from the meticulously painted patterns on the ceiling.

“What?” His loud question cacophonies off of the walls, making you smack your forehead in frustration.

”Be quiet, dumbass!” Roxie was still walking ahead of you, so at ease in navigating through the maze of tile that you would guess she held some sort of authority in this place.

“Why are we whispering?” He says, cocking a brow in your direction and hunching over partially to be at eye level with you and be more discreet.

“I don’t think this is a normal store.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He glances around, locking eyes with a particularly veiny commodity in the distance upon doing so. “Oh.”

What you had previously thought were decorations on display in glass cases attached to the walls had not, in fact, been decorations. Huge dildos were placed delicately on a plush purple pillow inside of a case, lined up neatly to showcase variety. Riding crops that had a golden lining on their edges were displayed in front of a shelf, crossed in an ‘X’ in the way that two swords would be. As you turn yet another corner, you can see an abundance of different types of sex furniture on display with blush inducingly realistic mannequins in all sorts of different positions. You have to put your head down to hide the redness that’s gushing to your cheeks at the sight. Skywalker is suspiciously quiet next to you, which earns him some side eye by you from how rare that occurrence happens, and you see him running his tongue over his top row of teeth in thought.

“Excuse me, Roxie?” Skywalker says, still glancing around. She looks towards the both of you neutrally, hands still clasped together in a professional manner.

“Yes, dear?”

“What’s the name of this store?”

“Camonia’s Secret. Why do you ask?” Skywalker’s eyes widen and he looks towards you, revealing a wide grin that you wished that you could slap off of his face. You weren’t just inside of any random sex shop, no. You were inside one of the most luxurious sex shops around. You had forgotten how high end most of Hosnian Prime was. Of course you had to stumble into here of all places by accident.

“Well, you see—” How are you supposed to put this? “We ran into the first store we saw to get out of the rain, and didn’t pay attention to the name.” You say, glaring at Skywalker for the presumptuously cheeky snort that he decided was appropriate to give in this situation.

“So, you didn’t know that you were inside of an adult store this whole time?” She asks, face still neutral as ever.

“No. We’re sorry to inconvenience—“

Roxie laughs softly, her body relaxing as she likely realizes that you weren’t high end customers with sticks up your asses. “Maker that does make a lot more sense. I’ve never once had a couple come in here to simply buy clothes.” She giggles to herself one more time before she looks up at you two again. “Well, we sell them of course, but usually they’re not our most sought after items, if you get my meaning.” She continues walking in the direction that she had been before, both of you behind her. She only needed to walk to the end of the aisle before your trio arrived at the dress section.

“I’m going to hand you off to Seraphin over there,” she says, gesturing loosely at a pile of clothes stacked on a counter that have a hand sticking out and waving at you from behind them. “He’ll help you find what you want. He sews all of the dresses here himself, you know. Oh, the side entrance is right there, by the way, in case you’re parked somewhere near it.” She points to a door that leads to another parking lot, this one being conveniently placed right by the galleria and wouldn’t have been a long, rainy walk in the cold’s length from the store, and waves goodbye, still shaking her head at your mistake.

Your head slowly turns towards Skywalker as he eyeballs you warily, and you squint your eyes at him in frustration. “‘Oh, look at me, I’m Skywalker. I checked all around for other parking lots.’” You say, changing your voice to do a bad impression of him.

“I swear I did. This one must have just slipped by. And is that what you think my voice is like? Because—” He’s suddenly interrupted when a short, energetic man appears next to you two with speed that could rival a hyperdrive, pushing the red rims of his circular framed glasses back up his nose from where they had slipped.

“What can I do for you?” He says, adjusting the straps of his now familiar golden uniform. 

“Seraphin, right? I need a dress that’s…” What would Jackooff like? “Mysterious. Preferably with sequins.” He nods to you, asking for your size before ushering you into a dressing room.

“I have just the thing for you,” he says through the door, a loud shoop coming from behind the wall, the floor length mirror in front of you suddenly opening and revealing a dress delivered by a gear system that practically looked like you were about to attend a funeral. It had a black hat with lace coming down to cover half of your face, with two shockingly thick pieces of fabric for the straps to support the thin material that the rest of the dress was made of, some black sequins dusted on at the bottom for some dramatic flair. It was, well— it wasn’t something that you would wear to a club. You slip off your still damp robes and still try it on regardless, not wanting to hurt the man’s feelings, but it was even more horrendous when worn.

“I don’t think that this is what I’m looking for,” you say, placing the dress back on its hanger and back inside of the trapdoor of the mirror that closed right after you did so.

“Perfectly fine. I have the perfect dress.” You hear another shoop and the mirror swings open yet again, this time holding a dress that you had to look twice at because the material was so sheer it blended in with its surroundings. This time, there was a single sequin placed every now and then for the fuck of it on the dress, and you didn’t even need to try it on to know that you weren’t going to buy this one. Before you say something, though, you hear Seraphin speaking to Skywalker outside and have to hold in a laugh.

“Sit, sit! You’re standing there so stiffly that I could have mistaken you for a statue. There are chairs here, darling. They’re meant to be used.” You can vaguely hear Skywalker offer a mumbled thanks before he thuds onto one of the fluffy circular chairs.

“Also, that dress comes with matching undergarments. Trust me, if you get that, he’ll love these,” Seraphin says to you in a loud whisper. One definitely loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. A matching set of lingerie that looks to be made entirely of a maroon colored lace appears from the mirror. You’re glad that you’re in the fitting room on your own, because the look of surprise on your face would not have been one that Skywalker would have let you ever live down.

“Him and I— never. Not in a millennium. No. I’m shopping for something else entirely,” you say, feeling better now that you’ve let the man know that absolutely nothing is happening or ever would happen with Skywalker, ever.

“Pardon me, then. Do you still like the dress?” He asks, sounding bored.

“I don’t think that this one will work, either. I’m sure the next one will, though,” you say, trying to be polite.

“Forget about the past two options I just gave you. I found something gorgeous. This is the one,” he responds, another, more intricate looking dress appearing from the mirror. It was a dark turquoise, with two cutouts at the waist and a strikingly deep cleavage. It had two triangles defining its shape, with an upside down one forming what covered your torso and a right side up one that covered what was necessary, the two points meeting at a point on your stomach. Detailed lines of sequins formed a pattern on the fabric, and at the top of the dress was fabric that covered a part of your neck and connected to the fabric below it. A thin, light blue fabric floated to just above your ankles, giving slight coverage to your legs but still showing the skin.

“You’re right!” You yell to him, admiring how the dress looked when you had it on.

“I’m never wrong about these things. Let me make sure it doesn’t need any quick alterations for you before you purchase that tantalizing little thing,” Seraphin says, to which you step out and squint at the light that was shining directly at you from outside the door stemming from a type of headlamp he had on.

“It helps with seeing the stitching. Now, let me see...” He checks the looseness of your neckpiece, the hem of the leg veil and how tight the dress itself fits on you. You had to awkwardly spin yourself around for him once, feeling like you were being looked over by a Porg with how intense he was at his job. “Everything is perfectly fine, but you did say you wanted something mysterious. That kind of neckline doesn’t leave much to imagine,” he says, stating it as fact. He takes off the headlamp and fluffs his hair, attempting to get rid of the helmet hair he had from it.

“Actually, where we’re going, it’s great.” Hopefully this whole plan will go smoothly. You were already ready to get back to the Temple.

“Alright then. Isn’t she just ravishing?” He aims this question at Skywalker, showing him you in all of your fancily dressed glory. His lip twitches ever so slightly, and the same peculiar glint in his eye that he had back on the ship appears for a moment before it’s gone again.

“You look nice,” he says, clearing his throat. “Not as uh, filthy as usual.” He leans further back into the cushioned chair. You normally would write this off as him continuously being his dickhead self, but the light bounce of his knee said that he wasn’t feeling as laid back as he was attempting to appear.

“Thanks,” you say, frowning at him, a deadpan tone to your voice as you go back into the fitting room to change back into your robes. You take one last glimpse at yourself in the turquoise dress before you slip it off, hoisting your dark robes back on. You can hear talking outside of the door again, so you, of course, listen in.

“What do you mean ‘filthy?’ Anyone could see how that girl beamed when she was in that dress,” you hear Seraphin say in a scolding whisper to Skywalker. “You are a very rude young man.”

“Hear, hear!” You shout humorously through the door before you open it. The two men give you drastically different looks from one another when you appear once more.

“How much will this cost?” You ask, following Seraphin to the register that he had been at when you had first seen his hand behind the massive pile of clothes on the counter. He presses a few buttons on the screen before looking up once again.

“Six hundred credits, even.” Six hundred? For a dress?

“He’ll be paying, won’t you?” you say, patting Skywalker’s shoulder as hard as you can physically muster without slamming him into the counter. Sure, you had credits, but you did not feel like spending them for the sake of a lost bet with Skywalker, of all people. He glares at you, looking at Serafin and back to you before plastering on a smile.

“Yes, of course,” he says, getting the credits and paying the man. You could practically see the life leave his eyes, much to your delight.

As Seraphin handles the credits for the register, Skywalker picks up some familiar lacy red underwear from the pile of clothes from the counter and twirls it around his finger in a circle tauntingly.

“You sure you don’t want to buy these? Give our guy a little surprise?” He says, holding in a laugh as he puts them back on the counter.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t, yeah.” You could hear how annoyed you sounded.

Once you say a quick goodbye to Seraphin after the transaction went through, the two of you walk to head through the side doors that were much closer to your ship than the other route. In your bag was the most expensive piece of clothing that you had ever worn in your life, and the fact that you had forced Skywalker to pay for it only made it feel all the more special. When you two reach the doors, Skywalker stops you with his arm, getting in front of you before you try to leave.

“Oh no, you’re carrying such an expensive item, I wouldn’t want you to damage it by opening the door yourself,” he says snidely, shooting daggers at you with his eyes and reaching for the handle, opening the door for you with a deep, sarcastic bow. “My lady.”

“Oh, shut up,” you respond, trodding on his toe on purpose as you step through. He started it, after all.

Chapter Text

The more that you actually observe the city from above, the more it reminds you of Coruscant. Especially Republic City, now that you’re landing there. Sure, there’s a few differences in certain areas, but the familiarity of the place is a welcome surprise. Your time to overlook the city is short, however, as Skywalker’s landing gives you no time to sightsee. He parks in the market district in an area where a bunch of other more foreign, fancy trading vehicles were to make sure that your ship had less of a chance of standing out amongst the crowd. You weren’t trying to draw attention if you could help it. Skywalker and you also had your robes completely closed shut on your front and your hoods raised, attempting to keep as low a profile as possible.

This area of the planet was so much more alive than the small cluster of shops that you had just been at. No store was left empty, and there was a constant stream of customers going in and out from every shop that you could see. The umbrellas that they held above their heads decorated the top of the crowd with an infinite amount of different colors, giving the appearance of a rainbow tsunami coming from any which direction.

You sprint to a vendor’s stall that has canvas covering the top to avoid any rain from pelting onto their products and people, looking over the commodities that they’re selling while you wait for Skywalker to lock up the ship. This particular vendor sold holocards with cheesy sayings like ‘Hosnian Prime is always in its Prime!’, umbrellas, beginner Dejarik boards and some kind of fruit where the skin was constantly moving and spiky. You look back at Skywalker who was now briskly walking through the rain towards the stall.

“I think we should invest in some umbrellas. Our robes can’t withstand this storm forever, you know,” you say, rifling through your pockets to try and grab hold of your credits while looking back at the vendor. “How much for an umbrella?”

“Twenty, but you can buy two for thirty-five,” she says to you, motioning behind you at Skywalker.

“You should get one! We’ll get a discount, too.” He shakes his head at you.

“I can withstand some rain. It’s not worth the credits,” he grouches, taking an interest in the Dejarik boards that he tries to hide.

“I thought that you just couldn’t stand the cold?” You say back, giving him a look and handing the vendor the credits, unwrapping the strap from the top of the umbrella and pushing it open before stepping out from underneath the canvas roof of the stall. The rain pelts against it, not allowing a single droplet to get through and onto you. You take a few steps, turning around and stopping when you realize that Skywalker is continuing on behind you, trudging along in the rain with a stubborn aura about him.

“You’ve seriously got to be joking. If you really don’t want to buy one, there’s an umbrella right here,” you say, emphasizing your point by angling your finger upwards to the material shielding you from the elements.

“I’d rather kiss a bantha than share that with you, thanks. Excuse me,” he says, grabbing his robes to cover more of his body and walking ahead of you. His shivering is noticeable, and you roll your eyes at how difficult he’s acting. He’s the one that didn’t feel like buying one in the first place. You were being generous here.

“What am I supposed to tell the Council when you freeze to death?” You shout ahead of you, cupping your hand to try and amplify your voice. He doesn’t turn around, instead choosing to continue in his moot battle with the rain that’s drenching him at the moment. You sigh, shaking your head annoyedly before you jog up to him, shoving his body underneath the umbrella along with yours. It’s a tight fit, and you’re definitely getting some rain on you, but at least you both aren’t getting soaked.

He was initially surprised, stepping away into the rain again before you could see the stubbornness in his eyes fade away and him giving in. His head hits the top of the umbrella with the height that you hold it at, making him have to crouch. This was of no matter to you, as sharing the umbrella with him was the extent of your niceties. Soon enough he gets tired of hunching over while you walk and decides that it should be his turn to hold the umbrella.

“Give me that,” he says, a fed up tone at the edge of his voice. He tries to wrestle you for control of the umbrella, but you keep a firm grip on the handle, not wanting to let go. He uses both hands, his metal arm giving him an unfair advantage as he fights you for control of the handle. The fingers along his flesh hand brush against yours slightly, the coarseness of his skin being something that you hadn’t noticed before suddenly spurring you to abruptly let go of the umbrella and hold your hands stiffly at your side, letting him win the mini battle that had been occurring between you two.

Why did you do that?

He cheers in triumph, holding it above the both of you and popping his back to likely get rid of a knot from hunching. You continue walking next to him without saying anything, rubbing the fingers that had been on the umbrella without realizing you were doing so. When you do notice what you’re doing, you decide to just shove your hands inside of your robes again and take in more of your surroundings.

The neon signs of stores attempting to lure you inside secrete a glow in the rain, tinting your surroundings multiple different bright colors. Some smoke comes out of a few tiny café chimneys that you pass by, presumably baking treats for this afternoon’s future customers. Vendors wave their products towards you in a beckoning manner as you pass by them, trying to attract business with their displays, but you only smile and shake your head to them as you walk past, feeling bad for waving them off even though you knew that was part of their job.

You pass by a homeless man sitting against a wall in a sheltered alley, holding his palm out for change. Stopping your tracks entirely, you dig your hands hastily throughout your deep pockets until you find the credits that you had stored there. Quickly venturing out to the alley so that you are hit by as little rain as possible, you drop a few credits into his hand and nod to him respectfully before returning underneath the umbrella.

Skywalker had stood still in the same spot the entire time, waiting for you, and you notice that his face is surprisingly not riddled with some sort of scowl, instead seeing the corners of his lips turning up.

“Is that a smile that I see on your face, Skywalker? What a momentous event! I should get a picture—“

“Shut up.”

You close your mouth with a grin, his own not fading away, and continue to pass by the multitudes of shops until you begin to see a few houses appearing every now and then. The buildings alongside them now faded from restaurants or stores for all sorts of gadgets to rows of homes, the architecture for each one being unique in regards to the multitude of different cultures and species living in this neighborhood. You pass by a house where a woman is watering her front garden’s plants with a pinkish liquid, the flowers blooming as soon as a droplet of whatever was being poured on them hit their leaves.

You check the address of the houses lining the right side of the road while Skywalker scopes out the ones on the left, making your search for the investor’s home faster. The number of the house was being mumbled again and again by you under your breath so that you wouldn’t forget, and you stop dead in your tracks when you finally see it on an inconspicuous looking house towards the end of the road. Skywalker continues to walk forward, ignorant to your sudden stop, so you slap a hand on his shoulder and pull him back towards you, pointing to the house.

“This is it,” you say, Skywalker raising his eyebrows in surprise at you finding the investor’s residence and turning back around. You were already trying to figure out how you’d get inside.

No matter how much you scoured the Temple library’s endless amounts of data, you were at a complete loss as to what this guy’s name or backstory was. Sure, his address was on full display, but his name? No, that’s top secret information, apparently. This made the whole idea of waltzing into this man’s house all the more dangerous. Was the guy even home? Was he harmful? Are there people other than him inside?

While you, like a sane individual, are trying to concoct a plan of sorts, Skywalker walks ahead of you towards a small alley, does a few motions with his hands that are meant to be understood by you, and begins to hop the small border separating the man’s tiny backyard and his home.

“Skywalker! What the fuck are you doing?” You scurry over to the fence that he’s hopping and look up at him with a glare, glancing back and forth between him and the people walking past the alleyway glimpsing in at you two.

“What I just told you I was doing. We’re going to come in from either side and hit him by surprise,” he says loud as ever, climbing over the rest of the fence and landing on the other side. You couldn’t see a glimpse of him or the backyard through the thick metal.

“You didn’t tell me anything. Your hand gestures need a lot of work if you’re actually trying to communicate with them, you know. Also, shouldn’t we at least knock?” You really hope that he can feel your eyes boring into his soul through the wall.

“Well, I’m already here, aren’t I? It’s better to just go with it. Come in from a window or front door and I’ll meet you inside.” The sound of his footsteps recede into the distance, his mind already made up for the two of you. You open your mouth and scream silently, stomping your foot on the ground before heading back to the front side of the house, away from the alleyway.

The front door was locked, naturally, so you focus in on the knob and turn the latch from the other side with a little bit of the Force. You turn the handle slowly, not wanting to make a sound while you enter so that your presence is not recognized. When you enter the house, the strong smell of cigar smoke hits you as soon as you step inside, and the opening space seemed to be a living room decorated with tacky patterned furniture. Closing the door just as slowly behind you, you take a second to become acclimated to your surroundings, wrapping up the umbrella and leaning it against the wall while letting yourself get a feel of the house before taking another step.

Only to hear an impossibly loud slamming noise paired with an equally loud hissing sound from the other side of the home.

Your head snaps up immediately, locking eyes with the man that you had just spoken with minutes ago about ‘surprising’ the man who lived here. That plan was out of the window now.

Skywalker mouths a silent sorry to you from where he’s standing in front of the back door, rubbing his shin while jabbing his thumb towards a Tooka that currently has its fur puffed up as large as it’s able to muster, its teeth bared in his direction. You hold your arms out at him, poised as if to ask a silent why?, utterly baffled as to just how badly one person can screw things over.

He moves forward, glancing left and right and suddenly looking at you with a stern face. You can sense something as well, flipping your robes off of your hip to have your hand ready and hovering above your saber. The two of you creep forward, the Tooka jumping out of Skywalker’s way with a snarl and onto a chair, looking for the cause of what you had sensed.

No sooner had you taken a few steps further into the living room that you heard a loud yelling from a few feet away, seeing a disheveled looking man sprinting at full speed towards Skywalker and armed with a frying pan that was held up high next to his face. It was as if you could see everything in slow motion. The widening eyes upon Skywalker’s face, the man’s hands adjusting themselves along the handle of the pan, the Tooka’s eyes perking up at seeing what was presumably its owner; it takes a second for you to actually start moving after you see the commotion.

When you finally reach the pair, Skywalker’s hands are firmly holding the unnamed man’s forearms up, the frying pan still in a firm clutch in the man’s palm and a battle cry still sounding itself from his throat. Your fellow padawan is looking from you to the man and back to you again, obviously in need of some service. With an equally as panicked face, you take hold of the frying pan in the man’s hand and place it on the faded red armchair next to the Tooka, making sure it doesn’t fall on the pet, and try to assure the man that you mean no harm.

“We’re Jedi, sir!” You say, grunting along with Skywalker as you try to calm the man down and hold back his flailing arms. “It wasn’t our intention to scare you—“ He steps on your toe in the struggle, making you wince and groan in exasperation. “You suddenly feel very calm,” you say, waving your free hand in front of his face while the other is gripped along his bony wrist. He instantly relaxes, his arms going limp to his body and standing straight while looking at the two of you quizzically.

“You can’t just mind-trick people for no reason!” Skywalker whispers to you, a shocked expression taking a hold of his face.

“Well you can’t really break into people’s houses, either, but here we are.”

“We weren’t breaking in, we were… entering. And was there not any other way to calm down the situation?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who decided to make the loud ass entrance when we were supposed to be sneaking around.”

“I tripped over that Maker forsaken Tooka!”

You hear the noise of someone clearing their throat to your left and realize that Skywalker and you’s faces had gotten closer and closer in your debate, now only inches away from each other. You quickly go back to your original positions, rubbing the back of your neck as you do so and looking back at the man who had been wielding a frying pan a few moments before.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but why the kriff are two Jedi in my house?”

“We’re sorry about our sudden entrance, sir. We didn’t know whether you were dangerous or not,” Skywalker says, voice surprisingly apologetic.

“You could have just knocked. Like normal people,” the man retorts, sitting down on the armchair that the Tooka was now lounging on and petting it as it purred.

“Yeah, it was pretty idiotic for us to barrel in like that, huh?” You say, looking directly at Skywalker as you say this. He scowls in response.

“Yes, it was. Now I’ll ask again: why are you in my house?” His other hand goes to rub against the stubble that was encompassing his lower face and neck. He was a strange looking man, now that you had the chance to observe him. He was incredibly lanky, his face, limbs and body seeming to be too long and skinny in comparison to what would seem normal. His hair was dyed a blindingly bright red color that was less than complementary to the pale and sallow hue of his skin, and he was dressed in a moss green windbreaker layered over a stained white tank top and brown slacks. He was odd. Unsettlingly odd.

“You’ve invested in the nightclub Silhouette recently, yes?” Skywalker says to him while you scrutinize the man in front of you and readjust your robes back over your lightsaber so that you don’t intimidate him.

“How do you know about that?” He leans forward in the chair, placing his elbows on his knees. Skywalker chooses to ignore his question.

“We’re going to need your help with apprehending a man who frequents there often.”

“There’s a lot of men who frequent Silhouette.” Skywalker raises his eyebrows while giving a glance to you, telling you he shares the same apprehension about this guy as you do.

“Do all of them share the last name Jackooff?” You inquire, seeing the surprise in his eyes at hearing the name.

“If you’re trying to get me to con that guy then you’re out of your fuckin’ mind—“

“You wouldn’t be the one interacting with him. He would,” you say, nodding over to Skywalker. “What we’re asking of you is that you let us borrow your identity for a day, giving us a cover for being at the club in the first place since we know that your first appearance as an investor there is tomorrow. Once we capture the guy, your life will be back to normal without the nuisance of a criminal lurking around your club. Good for business.”

He’s silent for a moment, contemplating your offer while rubbing at his scruff once again.

“And I wouldn't be involved?” He squints his sunken eyes at your faces to analyze them.

“Only your name would. Speaking of which, that is...?” You feel like a moron asking him for his name after you technically broke into his fucking house, but oh well. It’s not your fault that the Jedi archives are missing data that you need.

“You’d think that you guys would already know that,” he chuckles, getting up and crossing his arms. He was around the same height as Skywalker, but it felt like he loomed above the two of you now that he wasn’t in a blind panic. “Tig.” He shakes both you and Skywalker’s hands with his arms still crisscrossed, turning around afterwards and grabbing the frying pan that had been settled on the chair. 

You watch as he saunters halfway down a hallway, disappearing into an arch shaped doorway to the right. Various clattering noises can be heard before he yells from the room if you’re coming or not, to which you and Skywalker scurry over to where he walked to. Heading through the arch, there’s a kitchen; one that would be pretty if it wasn’t covered with random stains and cigar butts everywhere. Tig is hunched over and digging through a cabinet with his too-long arms, standing upright when he finds a different pan that he deems fit for whatever he’s doing, closing the cabinet and setting the pan on the stove.

“I’m makin’ breadroot patties and eggs if you two want any. I’m a breakfast for lunch kind of guy,” he says, opening the refrigerator with one hand and grabbing a few things from inside before placing them on the counter. You and Skywalker sit awkwardly at a round wooden table towards the edge of the kitchen.

“I already ate,” Skywalker says gruffly, to which you eyeball him and gesture to Tig, mouthing hospitality!

“I’m starving, thank you.” That wasn’t a lie. You were. Missing breakfast wasn’t the best idea for today. You settle more into the hard wooden chair as Tig cooks, and he looks over his shoulder and grins at the two of you, turning back to his cooking right after.

“So, uh, what does a guy like Jackooff have to do to have two Jedi set on him?” He asks, cracking an egg on the edge of the pan while simultaneously opening a kitchen drawer and pulling a pack of cigars out from inside.

“Criminal acts.” Skywalker’s voice was cold, making you kick his leg under the table for being rude.

“There’s too much for us to remember,” you lie, watching Tig use a lighter to light the cigar and take a puff. “He’s just an overall bad man.” A cloud of smoke cascades out of his mouth to the wall, bouncing back onto the pan where he was currently frying food. Your appetite was feeling soured.

“Questions on him are off limits. Got it.” Tig’s shoulders rise up and down in a silent laugh, the smell of breadroot starting to fill the air while he does. “You guys at least got some names, or can I not ask you that, either?” The silence that follows after his question is answer enough.

Skywalker leans over the table to you, motioning with his hand for you to get closer, too. You inch your body over to him hesitantly, wondering what he has to say, and his voice is low when he speaks.

“I saw a few motels on the way here. Should we sleep in one of them, or camp out in the ship?” He asks, fingers tapping on the table while he does. You’re about to respond that you should stay on the ship when Tig decides to let himself into the conversation that you had thought was quiet.

“Aw, hell. I thought you two would be staying the night at my place. I have an extra room and it never gets put to use,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at the both of you over his shoulders once again. The speed at which your face morphs into a frown at Tig’s little innuendo could probably be a new galaxy record.

“We wouldn’t want to intrude,” Skywalker says, surprisingly polite for someone who’s such a dick.

“Oh, you wouldn’t be intrudin’. Who can say that two Jedi stayed the night at their place? Plus, Bernadette could use the company,” he retorts, motioning the spatula in his hand down the hallway. You and Skywalker look at each other with equally confused expressions, and Tig turns around, looking at your faces while cocking a brow. “My Tooka?”

“Oh!” You nervously laugh, Tig’s unsettling eyes still locked on you. “Right, of course.” He continues to stare at you for a second longer than what would feel normal, spinning back to the stove once more afterwards.

“So it’s settled. You’re sleeping here for the night.” Tig flips a breadroot patty and an egg up into the air at the same time, pressing down when they fall, the sizzle of it being pressed down onto the pan filling your ears. He wasn’t really giving you a choice on the matter, was he?

“You’re very kind.” What else are you supposed to say to someone who just offers to let you stay the night on a whim?

“Eh, not really. Food’s ready!” He flings a plate on the table like a frisbee and it almost slips off of the edge before you catch it. Tig plops your food onto the plate and gives you a crooked fork.

He sits down in the chair in between you and Skywalker and starts to inhale his food as if it’s his last meal. By the time you put your fork into the first egg he had finished his own, chewing loudly with his mouth open for the whole world to hear the monstrosity that is the way he eats. You have to try and block out the memory of Tig’s cigar smoke blowing all over your food as you swallow, not wanting to reject the meal he had prepared for you, and Skywalker just stares off into space while looking at the wall beside you, lost in his own little world.

When you’re halfway finished, Tig eats the last bite of his breadroot and leans back in his chair, putting his plate inside of the sink from where he’s sitting with the absurd length of his arms. After, he rests his hand on his stomach while stretching his legs out fully underneath the table while sitting, staying like that for a second before suddenly getting up, the sound of the chair scooting back against the tile floor echoing in the kitchen.

“I feel like a game of Dejarik right about now. You play?” He poses this question over to Skywalker, as you’re still slowly getting through your smoke-flavored breakfast.

“Oh yeah. I play.” Skywalker cracks his knuckles and stands with a grin, following Tig out of the kitchen and down the hallway once more. A few minutes later you can hear muffled, agitated voices that signal the game has likely already started.

You eat one more bite of your food, using a napkin to cover the cigar-flavored eggs that you didn’t finish and glancing around to make sure you’re alone before you put it in the trash. The plate and fork you attempt to stack as neatly as possible in the pile of dishes that’s accumulated in the sink, in the end deciding to balance them on top of a pot. Afterwards, you head through the hallway once more, your suspicions of the Dejarik game having begun being confirmed, the board being set up in a corner in the living room.

You glance briefly at the two, observing them play before walking past them and examining a bookshelf that was against a wall on the other side of the room which sported two actual books. Where did a guy like Tig actually find these? Even the Archives have trouble finding them.

“You can touch ‘em and read ‘em and everything, I don’t care. They’re stupid heirlooms. You know how it is.” Tig’s nonchalant voice sounded behind you and answered your internal question, and he doesn’t speak again due to him continuing his game against Skywalker. He angrily scoffs at a move from his opponent.

“Thank you.” You skim the pads of your fingers over the navy blue spine of one of the books, pulling it delicately off of the shelf and sitting on the light pink carpet to read it. You flip to the first page, admiring the feel of the surface on your fingers, before you take a look at the writing.

I first saw her in the corner of a bar, laughing with one of her friends at something that another friend had said. She tucked her hair behind her ear like she didn’t know that she was beautiful, but oh, she was. Her breasts were the perfect size, her tight shirt perfectly framing them in a way that had me sweating. I experienced the urge to palm them with my huge, manly hands.

You give the book a weird look, wondering why this character was describing a girl’s tits in the first damn paragraph of the story.

 They looked so incredibly soft and warm, and I watched them move with her as she laughed again. I wanted to see what they looked like as I slid myself inside of her over and over.

You snap the book closed immediately out of second hand embarrassment from the main character’s thoughts, the sound being louder than you had anticipated and attracting the attention of the pair playing together in front of you. Tig looks at the book while you hold it, nodding appreciatively when he sees the cover.

“Oh yeah, that’s one of my favorites,” he says, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip and staring at you for a second too long again before turning back to the game.

Of course it was.

You take a look at the front of the book, reading the words ‘Cherry Poppin’ Goodness’ along the cover, mouth open in utter surprise and amusement at the sheer audacity of it. Discreetly angling the book in a way that Skywalker would be able to see it without Tig spotting him, you point at the front. His eyes scan the title for a second before he snorts loudly, covering up for the fact by putting his elbow over his mouth and pretending to cough.

“My apologies. There was something in my throat,” he says, setting his eyes back on the Dejarik board. You decide to read the book anyways, the stupidity of the premise and the utter ridiculousness of the writing itself being something that could likely make you laugh. Moving over to the couch, you sit yourself down onto the patterned furniture and get ready to dive in. A few pages in, you’re joined by Bernadette hopping on the couch next to you, her clawed feet leaving tiny puncture marks in the fabric as she purrs. Eventually she falls asleep next to you and you continue reading.

You’re three quarters into the book while the two of them are several different Dejarik games in when Tig slams his hands on the game table and stands up in his chair.

“Kriff! I forgot I had some shit to do this afternoon. I’ve gotta go,” he announces, going over by the door and putting his shoes on. “If you give me money I can grab some food when I come back.” You and Skywalker can’t exactly take a leisurely stroll around the city to get some take out since you need to lay low, so that didn’t seem like a bad idea. Paired with the memory of Tig’s shiver-inducing cooking, the idea was sounding even better.

“That would be great! Thank you so much,” you say to Tig, hoisting yourself up from your spot and giving him a few credits. Skywalker stands up, fishing through his pockets and sighing overdramatically a few seconds later.

“I forgot. I just went shopping and don’t have any spare credits,” he says, staring blankly at you. You huff, placing his share of money in Tig’s hand as well before he opens the door and heads out, leaving you and Skywalker alone together. You really hope that he isn’t going to just run away with your money.

You two stand there, the only sounds for a minute or two being the ones of city life outside. You crack first, being incredibly bored already and not knowing what to do.

“I’m shit at it, but I’ll join you for a game if you want,” you say, motioning to the board game and walking over to the chair where Tig had just been sitting.

“Fine with me.” He resets the board, making sure everything is ready for a new game as you sit down. Tig’s ass left a warm spot on the chair that makes you slightly uncomfortable.

Your feeble attempts to make an offensive move against him a few turns in causes two of your characters’ downfalls, much to Skywalker’s delight. He was constantly barraging you with offensive tactics, never giving you a chance to breathe and try to defend. Eventually, you think up a halfway feasible plan to make your way around the board and over to one of his more powerful characters in a sneak attack while leaving an open space for him to attack in a separate area, and he takes the bait. You’re able to kill a singular character of his and start to shit talk him immediately after the fact, even though he had already decimated seven of yours.

You’re about to lose the game when Tig barrels through the door without warning, holding a few trays in his hands and kicking the door shut on the now setting sun behind him with his foot.

“Honey, I’m home!” He exclaims with a snigger before he sets the food on the table in front of the couch. “I picked up some fried nuna legs.”

Your stomach grumbles at the mere mention of the food, it being hours since you had halfway eaten Tig’s home cooked breakfast. You and Skywalker practically sprint over to the table.

“Thank you,” you both say before you open the bag, grabbing a leg each and biting into the juicy flesh. It was practically sinful how good the food tasted.

Tig chuckles at the two of you yet again, grabbing a remote and flicking the HoloTV onto some action packed channel that included lots of explosions and screaming women. He then joins you two in sitting on the floor while eating the nuna legs, staring at the screen and holding his fingers out like a gun at it, shooting in time with the shots fired in the holofilm. He must have seen this before.

Once you all finish, Skywalker gathers the trash and goes to the kitchen to dispose of it. You settle yourself on the couch once again, sitting as far as possible away from Tig, who had also plopped himself down. Skywalker comes back and sits in between the two of you, looking incredibly awkward, and the three of you settle in to watch the  action filled channel that Tig had on. The sun had fully set before you said anything else.

“Would you mind if I used your shower?” You ask, feeling dirtier than normal despite your short shower this morning. Maybe it was Tig’s presence that made you feel so grimy.

“Down the hallway, first on the left,” he responds, pointing his finger without un-gluing his eyes from the screen. You feel slightly bad about leaving Skywalker to his own devices with Tig, but that fades away quickly when you remind yourself that he’s an asshole. The bathroom had a few extra towels in a cabinet under the sink, so you grab one of those and a wash cloth and hop in.

You shower quickly in comparison to your everyday washings. In the middle of rinsing off your face, you suddenly remember that Tig has also used this bathroom. He’s been naked in this shower. Internally gagging, you scrub down as quickly as you can and get out, toweling off and slipping on what would usually be called your ‘underclothes’ for your robes, even though they’re really just a plain shirt and your pants.

When you leave the bathroom and head back into the living room, the lights are all off and you practically can’t see a thing. Trodding on something hard, you jump back in surprise at Skywalker sitting up and groaning, rubbing his arm with his hand.

“I’m right here,” he states, continuing to rub his arm. Your eyes have adjusted a bit now, and you see him sitting on a blanket on the floor, paired with a pillow and a blanket covering his legs.

“Why are you down there in the first place?” You say, maneuvering your way out of his little pallet.

“You’re sleeping in the guest room.” He runs a hand through his hair, plopping his head back down on the pillow. In the light of the window, you can see that he’s also wearing his underclothes.

“Why?” You ask, crossing your arms and staring amusedly at him.

“Isn’t that the polite thing to do?”

“Do you really think that I want to sleep in this dirty man’s musty guest bed?” There’s a beat of silence before he responds, and you can see his eyes look away from you in the darkness.

“No.” He sounded like he was being scolded by Master Kenobi right now, making you want to laugh.

“Is that why you’re not sleeping in it right now, too?” Another beat, then two before he says something back.

“Maybe, but—”

“Make some space on the floor. I’m sleeping in here too.” He sighs exasperatedly at this, shifting his blankets and pillow over to the right. You gesture towards his makeshift bed. “Where’d you get the supplies?”

“Tig got them from a closet by the back door,” he says, pointing to a small door by the faded red armchair from earlier. “He went to bed a while ago.”

You grab a few blankets and a pillow of your own before walking back over to the living room, setting up your bed. After a bit of a struggle with getting the blanket to stay flat, you finally lie down and cover up with your second blanket, moving onto your side in the opposite direction from where Skywalker is.

You shut your eyes, attempting to coax some sleep into yourself after quite the eventful day. Your mind is slowly beginning to clear, your body finally starts to relax, and you’re just on the brink of sleep when you’re rudely interrupted by a voice that you’d rather not hear right at this very moment. Mid-slumber.

“Hey,” his voice is quiet, which is unusual for him. You groan, pulling the blankets higher around your shoulders.

“What? I’m trying to sleep.”

“I just wanted to say goodnight.” He was even quieter this time, something that you note in the back of your head. You slowly open your eyes, looking into the darkness in front of you for a few seconds before moving your head to look at him, even though you couldn’t see him through the black. Only the faint outline of his head and body was visible to you.

Even so, you still look. You don’t know why, but you do.

“Goodnight, Skywalker.”

Chapter Text

It’s past midday by the time you wake up, reckoning from the noisiness seeping in through the window from the street. You were never allowed to sleep in late at the Temple as it was considered a luxury, so the fact that you were able to squeeze a few extra hours under your belt gave you an energetic buzz.

Shoving the blanket down your legs and standing up, you stretch your body out to shake off the rigidity from your slumber. The droplets of rain outside cast shadows against the living room as they fall, the dim light shining through from the clouds outside illuminating the house in a soft glow.

Stepping out of your mess of a pallet on the floor, you make your way around the coffee table on your way to the bathroom when you pause, seeing Skywalker sound asleep still in front of it. Strands of his hair rest loosely across his face as his mouth is partially open, his chest rising up and down in a relaxed manner. You had never seen his face this peaceful before; his features were calm and at rest, not a scowl or a frown in sight as he slept. He had never looked so gentle before, and it felt odd learning that he’s not one big angry guy all of the time. You needed to wake him up so that he could start his day at the same time as you, but you wanted to let him rest just a little bit longer. To spare him that one extra moment of bliss.

“Are you starin’ at him?” You practically jump three feet in the air when you hear Tig’s voice right next to your ear, as you hadn’t even heard him walk into the room. He smirks at you with that gaunt face of his, glancing at Skywalker and back to you again.

“What? No. I’m just waking him up.” Your cheeks burn from Tig’s question, and you hurriedly kick Skywalker in the back of his leg to jolt him awake. You admittedly had kicked him a lot harder than you had meant to, and he wakes up with a yelp. “Get up.”

“My favorite way to wake up in the morning,” he says snidely after mentally catching up to what was happening, tossing the blankets to the side and cracking his knuckles. You scoff at him, continuing on to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Before you had showered the night before, you had searched through the cabinet underneath the sink for a toothbrush to accompany your towel, finding a small stack of plastic-packaged ones in a jumbled pile. The fact that Tig owns all of these toothbrushes for some unknown reason and still has terrible teeth has to say something about his character. Grabbing the toothbrush that you had used the night before, you start to brush your teeth.

When you’re finally able to tackle your appearance into being at least somewhat presentable with the materials that you had at hand and have your robes back on, Bernadette was scratching the outside of the bathroom door and whining to come in. Her tail is sticking straight up when you swing the door open, and she rubs her body against your legs to try and distract you from the deep lines that she had etched into the door with her claws.

Stroking her back, you head into the kitchen, assuming that you’ll find Tig cooking up some sort of disgusting dish and Skywalker grumbling about it only to find that neither of them are there. Lifting your brow, you check the living room again, observing that it was also empty. Now curious, you start to search around for places in the house that they could be, glancing through the parlor with the faded red chair and even opening the blanket closet, although you shut it immediately when you realize that they’re not trying to deliberately hide from you for shits and giggles.

Eventually, you stroll down the hallway, checking the rooms before you knock on the door of one that you hadn’t seen the inside of before, the door opening from the force of your hand as it was already open a crack. Muffled voices become more clear the more the door opens.

“Well, I was plannin’ on wearing this animal print getup, but you wouldn’t be able to pull this off,” Tig says judgmentally, the sound of hangers abruptly being scraped against a pole coming after.

“How unfortunate.” Skywalker says, the deadpan tone of his voice echoing throughout the room. You see a closet at the other end of the room and start heading towards it, tip-toeing through Tig’s bedroom in the process. It was what you would have expected for someone like him: several mirrors glued unevenly on the ceiling above his disastrously unmade bed, posters of women in degrading positions taped in random places and yellow stains from smoke painting the walls, as well as the smell of Bernadette’s litterbox wafting a putrid scent through the air.

“Some are more lucky than others, I guess,” Tig responds absentmindedly, Skywalker’s words clearly going over his head. When you finally reach the closet that he’s perusing through and lean against the doorframe, Skywalker is standing awkwardly on the threshold and Tig throws a few things on the floor. He pauses his searching and thinks for a second before running his grubby hands through a different pile. The two of you watch the man in front of you burrow into the clothes, Skywalker crossing his arms impatiently.

“What’s going on?” You say to him, pursing your lips as you try not to giggle at Tig suddenly popping up from the ground while holding a wrinkled two piece suit.

“I’m makin’ him look like me. He can’t go walking around in that bantha shit if he’s going to be playin’ dress up as me tonight. I’d be embarrassed.” He waves his hand nonchalantly towards Skywalker, tossing the suit at him as well as a button up shirt that he snatched from a hanger.

“Your public image must be very important to you.” Skywalker responds, giving Tig a look of faux concern that made you want to smile.

“Hey, whatever gets the ladies, eh?” Tig punches Skywalker playfully in the arm as he turns off the light, leaving the closet. Skywalker wipes off the fabric where Tig touched him while Tig isn’t looking, his face partially disgusted. You chuckle silently at this, turning around and following Tig out of his abhorrently decorated room, Skywalker trudging behind you while holding the clothes that Tig had thrown at him.

“So, what are you going to be wearin’ to the club?” Tig asks, stepping into the kitchen and plopping himself onto one of the dining table chairs directly after, propping his feet on the table.

“Oh, I’m just going to be trying to fit in with the escorts there and such. I’ve heard Jackooff has an affinity for them,” you say, deciding to not sit down as you would get a faceful of Tig’s feet in your face if you did. He snorts at this.

“Escorts? You mean whores? Yeah, he has a thing for ‘em.” He chuckles, smirking at you while looking you up and down. “They always wear the steamiest shit. I wanna see you before you leave, when you’re all dressed up like that.” Wow, peak creepiness! And in only two days? That’s a feat for the record books. Skywalker opens his mouth to say something that would probably negatively affect the two of your’s mission by offending Tig, even though he was a total pervert, so you elbow him in the ribs to make him shut up.

“I’m actually going to change in our ship. I can’t be seen coming from your house, after all. That would be suspicious.”

“Shit, mama. I was hoping to see you in something tighter than those robes. You really should just change here.” Does he actually think that this is what flirting is like? Skywalker can’t help but start to laugh next to you, stopping immediately when he sees the firey look in your eyes.

“I think that ‘mama’ here,” Skywalker says, slapping a hand on your shoulder and struggling to keep a straight face, “is still going to change back on the ship. Precautionary measure.”

Tig sighs at this, leaning back in his chair like a pouting child. “Fine, then.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence between the three of you, not knowing what to say.

“We should probably head on over to the ship now, actually,” you suggest, side eyeing Skywalker. He clears his throat.

“Oh, right. We’re parked a good ways away, so it would be best if we head in that direction, starting now.” You really weren’t parked far away, but the two of you needed an excuse to get out of there. “I should probably walk her. Precautionary... measure...” Skywalker trails off, realizing he’s repeating the same thing again. Tig eyeballs the two of you, getting out of his chair and standing up in all of his lanky glory. He seems almost menacing in the way that he stares you down before he gets in between the two of you and wraps his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you both to him.

“Good luck in your little covert op tonight, then,” he says, walking the two of you to the door. “You’re gonna need it if you’re up against a guy like Jackooff.”

“We’ll take any well wishes that we can get.” His arm was slowly sliding lower below your shoulder the more it rested against you, so you grab his hand and peel it off of you with a fake smile, taking a step away from him. “We really have to go now.”

Skywalker nods along with your statement, placing the crinkled suit that he still held in one arm along the arm of the couch before coming back over. “Would it be okay if I still changed here? To keep up the idea that I’m you.” He says, Bernadette coming over and rubbing against his legs. She must have finally warmed up to him.

“Sure, I don’t care.” Tig seemed partially miffed about you so strongly rejecting his advances, practically huffing out his sentence.

“That’s perfect. I’ll be back soon. Mee jewz ju!” Skywalker ushers you out of the door, grabbing the umbrella and following closely after you, and shuts it behind him. You let out a deep breath once you’re a few houses down and away from Tig.

“Fuck me, his perv level was off the charts,” you say, chuckling half heartedly to yourself and getting under the umbrella with Skywalker. You button your robe in the middle so that your Jedi attire wouldn’t be on display.

“He sniffed your hair back there, you know,” he says, tapping your arm with his own and raising his eyebrows.

“Think he cut off a lock of it for a souvenir?” You snigger at this, passing by the woman who was watering her plants yesterday’s house again.

“Maker, I actually think he did. There’s a patch here…” He stands behind you, staring at the back of your head. Your jaw drops, hands instantly feeling around for any sort of missing piece of hair, frantically wondering where he had snipped it off.

“What? Are you fucking kidding me? That—“ Your search for the missing lock of hair is interrupted by Skywalker’s guttural laughter, causing you to drop your hands and scowl at him in realisation. He was fooling around with you. “I can’t believe you. You’re such a prick.”

You turn around, holding your chin in the air as you walk as close to the edge of the umbrella and away from him as you can. His foot inadvertently steps on your ankle as the two of you walk, making you stumble before you go back to your previous pace. The market was only a few houses down, so you could try and see what there was to do while you waited. You still needed to try and not draw attention to yourself, but now that you’re actually in the city, you feel like it would be hard even if you were trying to get people to pay attention to you.

“Come on, I was joking,” he says contritely, accidentally stepping on your ankle again as you walk ahead of him. You let out a frustrated sigh at this, turning around in the middle of the road to face him.

“Are you going to continue doing that every five seconds?”

“Are you going to continue walking slowly?”

“Are you going to buy your own umbrella and let me use the one that I bought for myself?”

“You’re the one that shoved me under it with you yesterday. I was perfectly fine by myself.”

“That was out of pity. You looked like a wet dog.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I had just made a large purchase before that and was trying to not spend any more credits.”

“I hadn’t noticed, actually.” You giggle to yourself at this before sighing again, running your hand down your face when you realize the consequence of leaving Tig’s house so early. “What are we going to do for the next...” You ask a man passing you along the street for the time. “...Three hours? The club doesn’t open until seven, and we still need time to get ready. Should we just walk around?”

“You know, it totally slipped my mind to look up ‘tourist spots for Jedi’ before we came here.”

“I didn’t say tourist spots, jackass. I was just wondering if you spotted anything interesting yesterday on our walk to Tig’s house.”

“I wasn’t particularly paying attention.” He heads to the side of the road with you following, not wanting to block the flow of people in the street.

“I should’ve known.” You chew on the inside of your cheek, wondering what there was to do. Smelling something good in the air, you turn your head to see one of the cafés that the two of you had strolled by the day before. “Let’s just eat. At least that’s something.”

Glancing up and down the street, you notice that all of the food places have pretty significant lines of people that are waiting to order, every café averaging around the same amount of customers that are in line.

“Maybe waiting for the food itself will take three hours,” Skywalker jokes next to you, scoffing at the ridiculousness of every place being so busy.

Staring at the stretches of two different cafés that are directly next to each other, you try and guess which line that you think will move quicker, estimating that the one on the right side will.

“I think we should try this place, it’ll move—“ Looking over your shoulder to speak to Skywalker, you see that he’s no longer next to you. When you snap your head back to its previous place, he’s already in line at the restaurant on the left; the one that you were just about to suggest he not go to. The awning above the restaurant’s front protects you from the rain, thankfully, and you step into the line to the right, trying to get his attention by waving your hands around. He gives you a weird look, motioning for you to come over to where he is while you do the exact same thing to him.

“This one will go faster,” you mouth, trying to get him out of the line. If you tried to say something to each other from this distance, it’d be lost in the din of the city, and yelling was out of the option. That would draw attention.

“What?” He mouths back, a confused look on his face. Idiot. You try using your hands along with the words you’re saying to translate it to him.

“Faster...” You make your fingers do a running motion. “...Here.” You point to the ground near you. He shakes his head at you, repeating the same actions as you did, only for his side. Someone leaves the café on his side as he does this, making the line move up slightly and causing him to smirk triumphantly at you. You groan exasperatedly before turning back towards the line, it moving up as soon as you do so. You retaliate to him with the same evil grin.

The lines go like this for a while, the two of you warring a silent battle of who will order first. When a particularly large family finishes their order inside of the café you chose, however, you’re booted almost directly to the register. Skywalker was still standing outside of his restaurant, open mouthed at your success. You flip him off through the window right before you order.

“Yes, could I have... whatever that pastry in the menu photo is, please?” You ponder for a moment whether you should make Skywalker continue to starve in his wait outside of his café, deciding to have mercy on him. “Actually, make that two. And could I get two drinks?”

Once the small bag of pastries and the drink cups are in your hands, you pay the cashier and head outside, nodding for Skywalker to come over to you while under the awning.

“Did you actually get something for me?” He looks suspicious of you, as if you’d try to poison him.

“I couldn’t just let you starve, could I? I’d never become a Master if that happened.” He rolls his eyes at you before reaching into the bag and pulling out the pastry. It looked different from the photo, more like a muffin, but delicious all the same. You also hand him the cup filled with water, as you didn’t know what kind of drink he would like.

“Open the umbrella again. We should find a place to sit down,” you say, not feeling like standing awkwardly in front of the café while eating your muffin. He nods without saying anything, his mouth too full with food to respond.

The two of you walk leisurely in between all of the shops, taking small bites of your food to make it last longer. You can see the skyscrapers not too far in the distance towering over the rest of the city, reminding you yet again of Coruscant and its infinite amount of buildings. The shouts of vendors and the thunder from the sky combine to make a strange white noise all around you, feeling overwhelming while at the same time like a warm blanket.

After a bit of walking, you and Skywalker finally find a short wall circling a small patch of plants and nature that was set up in the middle of the street for scenery. He plants the handle of the umbrella in the dirt so that it would cover the two of you while you sit, and you adjust your seating on the wall, crossing your legs in your lap and looking at the people walking by or standing near you. Skywalker seemed to be doing the same thing, now taking off pieces of his muffin with one hand and throwing them in the air, catching them in his mouth.

One of the people in front of you catches your attention, and you study her nonchalantly. She was looking through a clothing rack in a well lit store, the windows being large enough that you could examine her fully even from outside. Her hair was cut in an avant garde black bob that framed her pink skin intriguingly. She was wearing quite a lot more jewelry than one normally would, as well as a navy blue A-line dress that went to her knees.

“Skywalker,” you say, tapping his arm with your hand.

“Yeah?” His mouth was full, muffling his voice.

“You see that girl over there? In the shop?” You unlatch your eyes from her to look at him instead.

“What about her?”

“I’m trying to guess what her life is like.” You stare at her again, trying to estimate what she’s like. “I’m thinking that she works as a lounge singer, maybe? And she has an infatuation for one of her backup singers, and the two are planning to run away into the sunset together. She’s buying a dress for that occasion specifically. Oh, and her favorite dessert is a cherry tart. I have a feeling.” You nod satisfactorily at your little examination of her, stopping when Skywalker puts a finger in front of your face to signify he’s about to say something, swallowing the food in his mouth first.

“No, I think you’ve got it all wrong,” he says as if he’s been studying this girl her whole life. You raise an eyebrow at him disbelievingly, crossing your arms and getting comfortable.

“Do tell me your opinion then. I’m all ears.” He stares at the girl for a second, scrutinizing her before looking back at you.

“I think that she’s a thief.”

“What?” You could hear the disbelief in your own voice. You had really only been examining her for fun, and were in shock at his sudden declaration. “Why?”

“Well, you see all of her jewelry? It’s obviously real and therefore expensive, but she’s shopping in a place that sells cheap clothes. In this district, no one comes here if they’re rich. So why would she have all of this expensive, authentic jewelry if she wasn’t trying to show it off? And she’s also not wearing anything else that would cost too much money, meaning that she either spends it all on jewelry—” He takes a sip of his water. “—Or steals it.”

As you look back to her, his conclusion is solidified as you see her head over to a section that sold bracelets, all lined up neatly in a line on the wall. She picks one up, admiring it, then looks around quickly before shoving it in her purse. She then walks out of the store, waving goodbye to the owner, before scurrying around a corner and out of view.

“I was trying to guess what she was like for fun, you know,” you say with a huff. He laughs at this, almost wobbling off of the edge of the wall before steadying himself.

“Sorry. I’ve always had a knack for seeing what's inside of people’s heads.” He smiles, taking another sip out of his cup. You straighten your back, giving him a challenging look.

“Okay then, Mr. Observant. If you’re so smart, what am I like?” He doesn’t say anything, only staring back and forth between your eyes with a soft look on his face before shaking his head and looking at the ground.

“A pain.”

You scoff at this, taking the last bite of your muffin and, seeing that he had also finished, pick the umbrella out of the ground and hand it to him.

“We still have a bit until it’s time to go. Let’s look for things to do,” you say, getting up at the same time as him and ducking underneath the umbrella.

“If there are any,” he retorts, walking with you into the crowded street once again. You don’t spot anything interesting as you gaze at the scenery around you, only seeing more shops and places to eat. A sign above one place stated that it was an arcade, and the two of you got incredibly excited at the thought of playing games like Wookiee Warpath, but then saw that it was closed. Fuck.

As you continue in your exploring while squeezed underneath the umbrella together, you hear what sounds like music coming from the end of the street. Not the type that you’ve been hearing stream out of the shops this whole time. Something different. Feeling curious, you start to walk faster towards it, Skywalker scurrying behind you while trying to keep the both of you underneath the umbrella. When you reach the source of the music, you see a small group of people playing instruments underneath a tarp not unlike the ones that the vendors use. They have an assortment of classically orchestral instruments, as well as some modern ones, and were playing a tune that a few people were dancing to while laughing underneath the tarp.

You smile widely at this, shrieking giddily as you run into the rain and away from Skywalker, droplets falling on you until you’re underneath the tarp to get closer. The band members smile mischievously at you before focusing on their playing once again, one of their cases being open for donations and filled with money.

A girl next to you with electric blue hair laughs heartily, motioning to you with her finger. You take a step towards her, and she wiggles her eyebrows at you playfully before taking your hands and bringing you into a lively dance. You didn’t even know the steps to what you were doing, but you didn’t think that she did, either. You laugh lightly, sweating at the movement before she spins you around with an outstretched arm. In your spin, you observe Skywalker standing off to the side, only spectating the event. You pause your dancing for a second, panting with a smile, and look at him impishly, walking towards him in a hurry. His eyes widen and he tries to back away, but you seize his hand with a giggle and push him into an old lady that was dancing by herself previously. The umbrella was dropped just outside the tarp, slipped out of his grasp by your sudden tug.

The old lady smiles at him, taking both of his hands and twirling herself around. He stands there awkwardly, not moving, and you sigh exasperatedly.

“Dance!” You whisper, grinning at him before taking the hands of a little Twi’lek boy that had felt like joining in with the commotion. His mother stood on the sidelines, watching the two of you with a satisfied smile. You giggle along with him, immersing yourself in the fast paced hum of the song. Everyone suddenly switches partners again, and you end up with the old lady that Skywalker had just been dancing with. He had loosened up now, laughing as him and the girl with the blue hair partnered up. The old lady puts her hands on your shoulders and you swing back and forth with her, smiling at how happy she looked.

Your partners all switch once more, and this time you end up with Skywalker. You’re practically shoved into him, which you laugh at at first, taking hold of his hand and shoulder and dancing merrily. You make eye contact with him, seeing his expression matches yours of mirth, and continue to dance, moving your way around the area covered by the tarp and making sure that you don’t run into any other pairs dancing. Even so, however, the pair of you never break eye contact. The giddy laughter that you had shared with your previous partners was forgotten, and you and Skywalker were simply staring at each other. Neither of you wanted to look away first.

The song ends, and the two of you snap out of it. You take a few steps away from him, smiling and giggling with the girl with the blue hair and thanking the band that was playing. The warm feeling of dancing spread throughout you to your toes, your cheeks flushed and sweat glistening on your upper lip from the movement. Exhaling contentedly, you move towards the umbrella, picking it up and stepping out from underneath the tarp. Skywalker follows you with a wide grin on his face, cracking his neck before taking hold of the umbrella and placing it above the two of you.

“Aren’t you glad I forced you in there now?” You say, giggling slightly at the memory of his surprised face. “I’m going to find another place to sit down.”

“I wouldn’t say glad. Maybe… not angry.” He responds, obviously not angry at all.

“Oh, loosen up you… grouch.” You’re focusing more on finding a place to sit down than coming up with an insult for him, so your response was weak. You spot a table with a couple of chairs in front of yet another café, pointing to it and going to sit down. An umbrella was conveniently attached to the table and shielding the two of you from the torrential rain that was still pouring all around you.

You cross your arms on the table in front of you, laying your chin on them and looking up at Skywalker. He was watching the people as they walked past the two of you, not really paying attention.

“Are you nervous? For tonight, I mean,” you say, asking the question to see if he was also feeling uneasy about tonight’s mission.

“I'm trying not to be, but all I can think about is accidentally making a mistake and never being able to leave the Council’s bad side.” He looks back at you when saying this, worry clear in his eyes.

“Never leaving? I didn’t know you were on their bad side in the first place, what with ‘the Chosen One’ business and all,” you say, sitting back in your chair normally and wrinkling your nose at title. “They can be pretty judgmental sometimes. Try not to take it to heart.” He snorts at this, leaning back all the way so that he rests on the back of the chair.

“I’d say they’re judgmental all the time. I never leave their room without being told that something’s wrong with me at least once.” He has an edge to his voice, even if he’s trying to sound comedic.

“I really don’t get why they’d say that. I know I give you a lot of shit, but you’re one of the best Jedi I know. They’re probably just giving you tough love or something.” He perks up at this, smirking at you and opening his mouth to say something before you give him a harsh glare. “I will murder you if you ever repeat that. Murder.” He puts his hands in front of him in a mock defeat, putting them back in his lap after.

“I’m more nervous about having to get up close and personal with Jackooff.” You giggle at his name, internally slapping yourself for doing so. You can not laugh at Jackooff’s name in front of him. “I don’t really know how he treats the women that are on his arm, so it’s a pretty big ‘what if,’ you know?” You say, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. 

“I’m going to be right there if anything happens. Right across the club, at the bar. Everything’s going to be fine, okay?” He moves his arm as if to reach across the table towards you, harshly jerking it back before he does so.

“If only I hadn’t lost that stupid game with you,” you retort, giving him a dirty look that he smiles at.

“No shame in losing to a champion.” He pretends to flex, laughing before he could finish the gimmick.

“You probably won two games or something in your town.” He holds a hand over his heart, mouthing ouch! to you while doing so.

“I’m insulted, my lady. Do you think that low of me?”

“Yes. One hundred percent.” You say, deadpan. He grins at you, adjusting his chair to get more under the table’s umbrella due to the rain changing directions slightly. “Do tell me, how ever are you going to be able to impersonate such a gentleman as Tig is?”

“I truly don’t know. It’s a feat that I’ll struggle to accomplish.”

“A feat indeed.” You snicker at this, remembering Tig’s loud smacking at the dining table.

“He told me when you were still in the bathroom that I need to put on some smoky eyeliner, because that’s what he always does when he gets dressed up.” He groans out loud, closing his eyes and resting his head on the chair again. “I’m fine with wearing it, I just don’t know how to apply the stuff. I’ll probably look like a fool.”

“That’s your problem right now? I can do it for you. That’s pretty simplistic makeup to apply,” you say, cocking an eyebrow at him. “I brought some on the ship.” He looks at you once again when you say this.

“Luck is on my side today.”

“More like I am, weirdo.” You chuckle at this, getting up from your chair.

“Is that you saying that it’s time to head to the ship?” He follows your lead, about to grab the umbrella before you snatch it first.

“Uh uh, I’m holding it this time. Also, yes.” You hold it above you, trying to keep it higher this time so that his head doesn’t hit the top again.

The two of you follow the twists and turns that you had navigated through the day before, seeing the same shops and smoking chimneys once again. It takes a second to find your ship once you both get to the lot until you remember that it was by a specific vendor's stall, finding it right after that. You beeline straight to the bag that you had packed, searching through it while Skywalker takes a seat on a bench by the wall, twiddling his fingers. You finally find a palette and a few brushes, making your way over to him.

“Do not get rain on your face once I put this on you, okay?” Your voice is scolding, and he nods. “Move your hair out of your eyes.”

He runs a hand through his hair, stopping halfway through and keeping it there to hold back the bangs that had previously been hanging lazily at bay. You open the palette, grabbing a defined brush and rubbing it in some dark brown shadow before tapping it on the edge of the palette to get the excess off.

“Close your eyes.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice is joking, and you roll your eyes. He does what you ask, closing his eyes and raising his eyebrows for you to get a clear view of his eyelid.

You wipe the brush on the skin on the inside of his lids, coating them lightly in brown before you tell him to open again and look up. You’re trying to get his under eye, but his eyes are watering and he blinks.

“Don’t blink!” You scold, smiling nonetheless. He wipes at the whites of his eyes to get rid of the water collected there, avoiding smudging the eyeliner, before you continue.

You trace his under eye, then grab an eyeliner pencil and fill in his waterline. Adding in final touches of light brown, you step back, cocking your head to see if everything was even and not splotchy before you get close once again, blowing on his eyes to get rid of any excess that could be lingering.

“I’m finished. It’s shocking how much of a resemblance you have to Tig now. You could be brothers—“

“I swear to Maker I will actually cut a lock of your hair off and give it to him if you say one more word.” He gets up, walking to the bathroom to see what he looks like in the mirror. He shouts from the other room. “The ladies at the club will love me!”

“You flatter yourself.” You roll your eyes, going to your bag and grabbing the other makeup essentials that you’d need for getting ready for tonight. “Don’t you need to be heading to Tig’s right about now?”

He comes out of the bathroom, wiggling his eyebrows at you to emphasize the liner that he had on before leaning against the wall.

“Need to? Yes. But want to? No.”

“Yeah, yeah. I was thinking that it would be better if you arrived a little after me, because I’m supposed to be just one of the girls working there and you an owner. It would be weird if we walked in arm in arm.” He looks concerned at this, standing up from his place on the wall. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to have anything to do with Jackooff until we get there. You could introduce me to him, actually.”

“That’s not a half bad idea,” he says, walking towards the door slowly.

“Thanks for the support,” you retort sarcastically, finding the bag with your dress in it to change into. “Come in around seven forty five? I’m going to head in a little before that.”

“Are you sure that you’re okay with having no backup for a bit in there? I know you won’t be talking to him until I get there, but still.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t have to keep saying that I’m not a damsel in distress to you, Skywalker.”

“There’s no need to be rude.” He slaps his hand against the button to open the door a little harder then what one would need to.

“You’re confusing rudeness with honesty. Now get out of here; I need to change.” He looks back at you for a split second, placing the umbrella down against the wall for you and adjusting his robes over his head to shield him from the rain before he steps out of the ship and down the ramp, closing the door behind him. You were now left to your own devices, which felt damn nice after being surrounded by two assholes for the past two days.

You do your makeup first, doing a dramatic eye look to match the over the top qualities of your dress. For your lips, you choose an equally dramatic dark wine red color. Feeling satisfied, you slip on your dress, careful not to put it on too quickly in fear that it would rip.

You decide that your standard Jedi uniform boots would be good enough paired with the dress, as they were black and went high up your legs. You do your best with your hair, trying to make it look as tantalising as possible before finally feeling accomplished in your getup. When you stand back and take a good look at yourself in the mirror, you feel quite proud, even taking a look at your ass in the dress and giggling to yourself.

While you wait for the clock to finally tick to the time that you’ll leave at, you lay out your essentials on a bench. Your lightsaber, which you would need in case of conflict, would be hidden away and tucked into your boot. Lipstick and eyeliner would go in the other boot, in case you needed to reapply. You really didn’t need anything else, since escorts don’t usually tend to bring an entire duffel bag of things to wherever they’re going. At least you think that they don’t.

When it’s finally time to leave, you calm yourself, closing your eyes while the door opens and reaffirming that everything was going to run as smoothly as it was able. The club was out of the market district, in the opposite direction of where you had walked to go to Tig’s house earlier, so it would be a bit of a walk.

The walk was quite peaceful, if you had to describe it. A few people were leering at you from the street, but you ignored them, heading to the fancier side of the city and where Silhouette was located. You were in skyscraper territory now, and there were actual street lamps instead of neon signs placed everywhere. The outside of the club looked like it would be a jazz lounge, and you would have thought it was if you didn’t know better. The classiest things always had the dirtiest secrets, from your experience. That included people, too. The bouncers at the front don’t even ask you why you’re here, judging you by your outfit and how you’re presented alone and letting you right in.

You step through the double front doors, light chatter and music filling your ears when you do. The smell of wine and cigars drift through your nose, and you start to scope out the room. Velvet decorations are everywhere, including the floor, except for the dancing area, which was crafted from wood. Circular booths with a dim overhead light above them lined the dark red walls, suspicious figures speaking lowly about things that were likely less than legal. Jackooff was among one of these people, and your eyes quickly scan over him, seeing the coattails of his suit jacket hanging off of the edge of the booth and the huge golden rings on his fingers before snapping away, not wanting to be caught staring. Women dressed in clothes of the same fashions of yours were residing alluringly throughout the room, hoping to catch the attention of some thug. The bartender was cleaning shot glasses in the sink, pausing his actions when someone calls him to ask for a drink. There were a few tables that weren’t lined against the walls, but the only ones occupying them were women, and there were few.

Trying to accustom yourself to the feel of the place, you copy some of the languid movements of women in the room, taking slower steps and straightening your posture. You make your movements more purposeful, gracefully settling into a chair that is set at a table in the corner of the room by yourself. People begin to trickle in through the doors as more time passes, the club’s previously quiet din now becoming more noisy. There were people everywhere now, chatting or touching each other scandalously when they thought that no one was looking. You can hear the doors open again, hushed whispers accompanying this person’s arrival. Another round of whispers happens before you can clearly hear anything else being said, and you strain your neck to see who was at the door.

“Dank farrik, Tig! It took you long enough to get here. You look… different from what I imagined.”

“Insultin’ me now, are we?” You can hear Skywalker’s voice imitating Tig’s coming from that area, making you sigh in relief. “Show me around. Let me get a feel of the place now that I own a piece of it.”

You adjust yourself in your chair, smiling charmingly at a man that walks past you while devouring your exposed skin with his eyes. You drift your eyes back around the room slowly, so as to not be suspicious. On your once over, you spot Jackooff in a different sitting position than before and glancing at you, saying something to his friend in the booth. Apparently, your mission was now already starting before you had yet to do anything.

Chapter Text

You were unable to see Skywalker through the thick collection of people scattered around the room, so you decide to just sit and wait for him to come to you. There really wasn’t much else for you to do at the moment, as you didn’t want to interrupt any conversations or attract too much attention until he got to you. Your small table in the corner held only three chairs, one side of the table being blocked by the wall, and you sat in the one furthest back.

A different man than the one that had been eyeing you earlier begins to stumble over to you drunkenly from the middle of the room, a sly smile on his face as he does. He was wearing a fedora that was much too large for his tiny head, therefore hanging far too low over his eyes. He discreetly tries to adjust it to be out of his face while he approaches you, making you want to laugh.

“I haven’t seen your beautiful face around here before,” he says, slurring as he slides down into the chair nearest you and crossing one of his legs over his other.

“I could say the same thing to you.” You try to make your voice sound more smooth and appealing, being cautious with the way that you phrase things.

“I’m around here a lot, and haven’t heard about any new girl. How’d you sneak under my radar?” He moves his fingers to position themselves underneath your chin, examining your face with a smirk that makes you want to projectile vomit.

“I would never purposefully avoid you, sir,” you respond, leaning forward ever so slightly so as to entice him. He wasn’t the man that you were trying to win over, but this could be good practice until Skywalker finally shows up. You can see and hear the buffoon in front of you gulp, his hand dropping back onto the table as he also leans forward.

“What say we go to a room in the back, huh?” His voice was husky now, on the verge of cracking. You had practically done nothing, and he already wanted to sleep with you? Apparently you were more talented at this than you had thought. You glance at the door again, silently screaming for Skywalker to get the kriff over here already and give you an excuse to not go with this sleazebag of a man.

Thankfully, your thoughts seemed to be read by Skywalker at that exact moment, as you see him finally push through the edge of the crowd nearest you, stepping out and walking to your table. You almost didn’t recognize him, as he looked so oddly... professional, if that was the word for it.

The suit that he was wearing was a size too small for him, a given due to Tig’s strange proportions in comparison to Skywalker’s. It hugged practically every part of his body in a way that made you want to look away, the deep red complimenting the golden hue of his skin. His shirt was barely buttoned, only one or two at the bottom being put together and the end being tucked into his pants, the rest exposing a prominent amount of his chest to the open air. He walked with a confidence that didn’t quite match his darkly outlined eyes, letting you recognize that it was still him underneath all of the new and fancy clothes.

He stands in front of the chair opposite you, looking at the man who was itching to get in your pants and jabbing his thumb away from his body. “Hit the road.” His voice had a sense of authority about it that he probably pulled out of his ass.

The man gets the hint, hurriedly scraping his chair backwards and walking away, leaving the two of you alone. Skywalker finally sits down, surprising you by softly taking a hold of one of your hands with both of his, caressing it in a suggestive manner. You’re about to jerk your hand away from him before he whispers something annoyedly at you, a smile still on his face nonetheless.

“I have to look like I’m sitting here for a reason,” he says, pushing his chair closer. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes at this, instead interlocking your fingers with his and using your thumb to brush against his hand, ignoring the feeling that tingles throughout your body by doing this.

“Jackooff is to my right. Don’t look.” He’s about to turn his head when you grip his hand as hard as you can, causing him to look back at you with a grimace. “I said don’t look! We need to look like we’re having a nice time for a bit, and then you can pretend to notice him and we walk over there.”

He nods in agreeance, glancing around the room for a second before looking down and fiddling with his shirt awkwardly, trying to get it to not expose so much skin before giving up with a small grumble, adjusting his elbow to rest on the table so that he can lean his face against it and feign more interest in you.

“There’s more people here than I had expected. It might affect my view of you two,” he says, a nervous tone to his voice.

“It’ll be fine. I doubt that more people will arrive.” You look at the doors once again, seeing the steady trickle of people from earlier already slowing down. Skywalker adjusts his shirt with his hand again, making you stifle a laugh. “Why do you keep on fidgeting?”

He gives up in his attempts with the shirt with an exasperated sigh, the unbuttoned area immediately showing skin directly after he does. “Tig made me wear it like this, and I’m not really used to feeling this exposed.”

“Join the club, buddy.” You see one of the women that were spread out leisurely among the many chairs look in your direction, so you lean forward to pretend to whisper something scandalous in Skywalker’s ear. “People are looking.” 

In an attempt to seem even less suspicious, he runs his fingers along the side of your neck, going to your shoulder and down your arm before taking your hand and standing up to whisper back.

“We should move to the bar.” He goes back to standing regularly, dropping your hand and striding over to the bar. You follow behind him with an excited look on your face that is completely fake, knowing that you have to keep your cover.

“Why don‘t you get us two drinks? Dealer’s choice.” Skywalker says to the bartender, sitting on one of the circular chairs lining the outside of the bar and leaning on his elbow again, looking at you with a sly smile that you knew was also an act. The bartender grins excitedly before moving around the bar to grab the materials to make your drinks, and you sit yourself down next to him. You lean forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and adjusting it playfully, rubbing your hand lightly down the top of his exposed chest in a flirty manner before retreating. You could swear that you had felt him shiver, which was strange, as it wasn’t cold in here.

The bartender sets the two drinks in front of you, and you pick yours up and pretend to sip on it, crossing your legs together slowly. You don’t drink alcohol in the first place, but you’re especially not going to drink it in such a dangerous situation as you’re in at the moment. You just have to play the part. Skywalker drums his fingers along the sleek wood of the bar, pretending to sip on his own drink as well.

You glance around the club, attempting to give off an innocent demeanor that wouldn’t attract suspicious eyes, and spot for a singular second Jackooff staring in your direction once again. You turn back to Skywalker, pretending to giggle lightly and putting your arm on his shoulder before leaning in.

“Let’s go.”

He nods at you, acting as if he had just noticed that Jackooff was in the room and putting on an excited expression. The two of you place your drinks on the counter as he stands up, hooking his arm in your own and slowly walking over to Jackooff’s dimly lit booth. The guard that sits with the thug eyes the two of you warily, but Jackooff looked completely at ease.

“Just try and act like a bar floozy. Can’t be too hard for you, right?” Skywalker whispers in your ear as you approach your target. You suppress the urge to scowl, instead putting your mouth directly by his ear and whispering back.

“I don’t think it’ll be hard for you to act like a pervert, either, ‘Tig.’” You’re about to lean back before realizing that you need to keep up appearances, hesitantly deciding to nibble at the end of his earlobe for appearances with an inward feeling of awkwardness, returning to your normal walking position while holding his arm. Jackooff’s ringed hand is resting on the table, his sharp claws unmoving as he observes the two of you.

“Jackooff! We’re finally able to meet face to face.” Skywalker says boisterously, going to shake his hand and tapping his shoulder in a friendly manner. When the handshake breaks, Jackooff holds his hand in the air as if he had touched something dirty, setting it hesitantly down on the table again.

“I’ve been wondering who this elusive new owner was,” Jackooff says, his voice deep and smooth with a hint of an accent that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Ah, you know, I’ve just been busy.” Skywalker adjusts his suit jacket, it being slightly lopsided before.

“As have I.” Jackooff seemed unamused by Skywalker’s banter, instead shifting his eyes curiously to you.

“I see that you’ve noticed our newest girl,” Skywalker says, placing his hands on both of your shoulders while standing next to you as if to present you to him. “As a special openin’ night gift, I’ll lend her to you. On the house. How does that sound?”

Jackooff peruses over the folds and gaps in your dress, follows your arms and legs down to your hands and feet, then examines your face with satisfied eyes, nodding simply. You felt like you were an object that he was looking to collect.

Skywalker and you stand there for a second, not knowing what to do as Jackooff hadn’t said a word. Then, as if you were supposed to know this from the beginning of the conversation, Jackooff taps his thigh with two of his fingers, gesturing to you. Your heart sinks into your stomach when you realize what he wants you to do, and you want to punch Skywalker in the face for winning your Stone Data Plasma game.

Skywalker’s hands slip off of you as you turn around, taking a few tiny steps backwards and staring at Skywalker with malice filling your eyes before you sit down, plopping yourself onto Jackooff’s lap and wrapping your arm around one of his shoulders to steady yourself. He was wearing a heavy abundance of cologne, the spicy scent so strong that it would probably linger for a few minutes if he walked by you. When the fumes first hit you, you cough unexpectedly, not foreseeing the event of him wearing so much cologne. His scales made his body feel like a piece of heavy, jagged stone, making him quite the uncomfortable chair to sit on. Skywalker looks at the two of you, gesturing at the bar with his mouth open and wondering if he should leave.

“What are you still doing here? Leave.” Jackooff’s goon was not as reserved as him, obviously seeming irritated. He was dressed in all black clothing, sporting a tight short sleeved shirt with flexible looking pants. Skywalker looks at you one last time before turning the other direction and heading towards the bar, greeting people as he walks past them. He has a short conversation with the other bartender before beginning to make his first drink. Clumsily, by the look of it. The other bartender gives him an immensely effective stink eye, snatching the bottle of blue alcohol that Skywalker had been about to pour into the glass with a different, purple bottle of liquid that he shoves back into Skywalker’s hand. Looking partially embarrassed, he begins to pour that alcohol into the glass before handing it to a waiting customer.

“What were the two of you speaking about, my dear?” Jackooff says, a playful tone to his voice.

“About who you are. You’re quite the powerful man, aren’t you?” He was making fierce eye contact with you.

“Flattery will get you far with me, but lying will not.” He smiles, seeming almost menacing in the way that his teeth are bared to you. “Your touches seemed to indicate something more than a small conversation about me.”

“Perhaps I was trying to get him to introduce me to you. And he needed some convincing.” His smile becomes impossibly wider.

“I like that answer more.” Jackooff places a hand on your lower thigh, holding it against him as he looks at the man in front of him and begins to converse. If someone could die simply by you thinking it, Jackooff would be long gone by now and his fingers would be pried off of you.

“What were you saying about this man who was attempting to swindle me out of our trade?” He says, speaking to the guard in front him. You feel awkward simply sitting there and not contributing to any conversation, but had a strong feeling that talking would not be the best thing to do right now.

“The guy was gonna give you a shipment full of empty boxes.” The man laughs, setting his arms along the top of the booth. “What an idiot. He really thought that something this big would slip by unnoticed?”

“It seems that he has no respect for me, nor my business. He’s made that clear with his trickery.” Jackooff rubs his hand up and down your thigh absentmindedly, and you withhold a flinch. “Have you brought him?”

“Of course, boss. We caught him on a trading vessel trying to get off of the planet. Tried to run.”

Jackooff shakes his head disappointedly. “Bring him in.”

The guard across from you gets up from his seat, walking to the back of the club and through a door that swings back and forth continuously for a few seconds before it finally closes on its own. You move your hand up and down Jackooff’s chest, slowly maneuvering yourself off of his lap. Trying to make up for not wanting to sit on his stiff self, you cuddle yourself up to his shoulder, picking a piece of lint off of his jacket and holding his arm with your own, feeling disgusted. Jackooff stays unmoving, his eyes trained in a calm manner upon the door at the other end of the room. The music in the club is eerily relaxed, almost mocking the mission that you were currently on.

Jackooff wore a gold chain that hung just above the top of his dark blue button up shirt, displaying a tiny engraving of a sentence that you just about could make out. It was something in Dosh, that you knew for sure by the way that it was etched into the metal. You try to position yourself closer in a nonchalant way in order to read what’s on his necklace, but are noticed by him.

“Beautiful, no? It was given to me by my father.” You smile languidly at him, stroking the engraved words lightly with the pad of your finger.

“He must have had good taste in jewelry.” He laughs lightly at this, nodding in agreeance.

“You’re correct. He had an eye for everything; one that I share. He boasted good taste in jewelry, clothing, speeders...” he squeezes the meat of your leg lightly while staring at you with half lidded eyes. “…Women.”

You pretend to feel bashful at this, looking down and avoiding his eye contact although on the inside you felt deeply uncomfortable at his actions. He laughs at this once more, releasing your thigh from his grip.

“No need to be embarrassed now, darling. Would you like to know what it says?” He strokes the side of your cheek as he says this, as if you’re some overeager child that he has to explain everything to. You nod lightly, placing your head on his shoulder.

“Yes, if you please.” He hooks his thumb around the chain, pulling it outwards for you to get a better view.

“Take t'ahw zi yours.” He holds your jaw with his thumb and index finger, looking directly at you. “Always take what is yours.” You wonder in the back of your head just how far the proverb extended into how Jackooff uses his power while the door across the club opens as he finishes his sentence, two more men appearing along with the goon from earlier. One of them is dressed the same as the guard that you had just seen, him and the new goon roughly tugging in by his arms a man that looked heavily distraught, sweat coating his forehead in a shiny gleam that reflected the faint light around the club. He had dark black hair with a receding hairline, lightly tanned skin and several wrinkles that betrayed his age spread about his face. He looked to be in his mid forties, wearing a baggy violet shirt and pants that cut off at his mid calf.

He was looking around the room in a panicked state, the people standing and talking to each other parting down the middle to let the three men pass without so much as second glance in their direction. The guards shove the man roughly into the seat across the table from you, him landing with a harsh grunt and making severe eye contact with Jackooff. Jackooff turns his head to you, lowering his voice with his hand finding its way back to your thigh and slowly moving higher up. 

“I’ll take care of this, don’t you worry.” His tone was almost menacing, too calm and too collected in comparison to the blubbering of the man across from you.

“Jackooff— I mean, sir. I didn’t know that they were going to be empty, I swear. That was all my supplier. They ripped me off, said I could get a better deal if I—“ Jackooff puts his hand in the air, and the man instantly closes his mouth, his legs bouncing up and down aggressively underneath the table.

“I’ve been through this before with a different woman a few years back. She used all of the same excuses as you.” He releases his grip on your thigh, settling his hands on the table and crossing his fingers together in a businesslike way. The man is about to say something, but Jackooff shakes his head, again stopping him without a word. “I’m going to break this down for you the best that I can. I paid you a large sum of money for five containers of Death Sticks, and when my men looked inside of these containers, there were none. All I ask is for you to give me the money that I wasted on your services.”

The man rubs his hands against his thighs nervously, sweat continuing to collect on his flushed face.

“Jackooff, the thought of swindling you has never crossed my mind even once. Honest to Maker. This is all a misunderstanding, you see; it wasn’t me who decided to give you empty packages.” Jackooff sighs, spinning one of his rings around his finger and not giving the man the time of day.

“Then who exactly could it have been?”

“Don’t play with me, Jackooff. You know that if I give you any names I’ll be killed.”

“Is that so?” Jackooff chuckles darkly, looking back up at Kudoshi with an entertained expression. “You’re quite arrogant for assuming that you shall not be killed if you don’t.”

Kudoshi frowns, a worried expression taking hold of his shiny face. He glances around the room again before leaning in to speak.

“Look, the only person that I deal with in person for my business is a Neimoidian guy named Runta, and I don’t even know if that’s his real name or not. He’s the one who handles what’s inside of the shipments.”

Jackooff nods in approval, snapping his fingers at one of the guards and prompting one of them to leave the table and go through a different door to your right. “Good to know. Now, for our last topic of business, money.” The guard comes back with a singular cigar, placing it delicately in Jackooff’s mouth as he grabs the cap of it, holding it still as the guard lights the foot with a lighter that he grabbed from his pocket. He inhales once from it, looking at Kudoshi expectantly.

“Oh! Well, what— what about money?” Kudoshi says, smiling nervously.

“Like I said before, your services were null, so I’d like the amount that I paid for them back.” Kudoshi’s hands shake as he fidgets with them.

“I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t do that.” His voice was quiet, and it looked like he was trying to be as small as possible. Jackooff waits for him to speak again patiently, but there were no other words uttered from the man’s mouth, and he shrugs anxiously. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“It’s simple, Kudoshi.” He takes another puff of his cigar. “If you give me the credits that you owe, all will be forgiven. Kriff, I’ll even buy you a drink. My treat.” His body language is stiff as snaps his eyes back up to Kudoshi, stopping the spinning on his ring and being completely still. “But if you don’t pay me what is due, your time zi lowe. You’re done. Understood?”

“It’s gone. It’s all gone. I don’t have a single credit to pay you with. I really am so sorry—“ Kudoshi’s blubbering is interrupted by Jackooff’s cold, calculated voice.

“Then your time is up, jahumba.”

Kudoshi takes a second to register what was just said to him, and his eyes widen at the statement. He suddenly lunges across the table at Jackooff, trying to grab his hands in a final plea for his life. The goons from earlier grab hold of him immediately, slamming him back into his seat before he was even able to move a foot. The thug doesn’t even flinch at this.

“Please, Jackooff. You have to understand. The money, it’s— it’s gone. I already spent it. I have a family. Mouths to feed. Please, have some sympathy—“

Jackooff sighs once more, leaning back into the cushioned seat behind him and placing his hand on top of yours that you had strategically placed on his shoulder, waving his other in a dismissive manner.

“Kill him.” His voice is so nonchalant in comparison to the words that he just uttered, and Kudoshi begins to yell, pleading for his life but being hoisted up by the goons a second later, him not walking with them in an attempt to slow them down but only ending up being dragged by his arms along the floor. His yells and screams follow all the way to the door that leads to the back room, to which they become muffled as the door closes and eventually disappear. No one in the room bats an eye at this except for you and Skywalker, who have your mouths open in wordless shock. Skywalker snaps out of it before you, wiping down a section of the counter with a rag and attempting to continue as normal.

You desperately want to run along to the back room and save the man from his grisly fate, but the thought of your mission stops you. Apprehending Jackooff would prevent any future happenings like this, and pulling out your saber and rescuing Kudoshi would make Jackooff catch on to your scheme faster than a blaster bolt.

So you sit there, cuddling up close to Jackooff and feeling an incredible pang of guilt go straight to your heart. You keep stealing looks at the door, knowing that it wouldn’t open again with Kudoshi coming out of it. You try to tell yourself that not saving him is for the greater good. That by him being sacrificed, others would not have to suffer his same fate when you capture this thug. It doesn’t do a damn thing to ease your mind. 

Jackooff notices your apprehension, tutting dotingly at your expression and taking your hand in his own.

“Don’t worry about him, sweet. He was good for nothing. A man who didn’t keep his word.” He was using past tense for Kudoshi already? “Someone like him shouldn’t be clouding over that pretty little head of yours.”

Attempting to swallow the guilt that you’re feeling, you lift yourself off of his shoulder, turning to look at him with a sly look in your eyes.

“So you think I’m pretty?” You can see Skywalker eyeing the two of you warily from his place at the other side of the room.

“Darling, I’ve had my sights set on you since the moment you walked in here.” How is this man able to continue pulling shitty one liners out of thin air? He surely has to have a notepad with them hidden in his suit pockets somewhere. You pretend to giggle at his ill attempts at flirting, seeing the guards coming back empty handed from the back door in your peripheral vision.

“Then I’m unafraid to say that I also find you quite... pretty.” You run a finger along the scales on top of his head, and his eyes flutter closed. You wanted to gag, but at least you were getting to him. Maybe he’d suggest you go to a private room soon, and you could end this all even sooner.

He opens his eyes slowly as your touch leaves him, checking the watch located on his left wrist and huffing disappointedly, much to your surprise. What changed so suddenly?

“I’m sorry to cut us short, my dear, but I have plans that I would rather not cancel tonight.” Your eyes widen in surprise, as you held no knowledge from your research that he had anything to do this evening. He puts his cigar out on an ashtray in the middle of the table.

“Where are you going?” You hoped you didn’t seem too eager to know of his whereabouts.

“To see the opera. One of my personal favorites is showing tonight, I’m afraid.” He takes your hand and holds it to his mouth, giving it a small kiss before setting it down once again.

“But we were just getting to know each other.” You try to add a sultry hint to your voice, praying that you didn’t sound stupid, and lean yourself up against his side again. He looks down at you, admiring you from this angle, before smirking widely.

“Eager, aren’t we?” With every word he said, it felt like you were being coated with slime. Maybe it was his breath; the cigar smell emanating from his mouth was potent inside of your nose. It even burned your eyes a bit. “Perhaps… you could accompany me.” 

You place a finger on your chin, miming an aura of deep thought before answering. “I’d love nothing more.”

Jackooff snaps at one of the guards, whispering something to him before the man runs out of the club, squeezing between the people lounging around inside. Skywalker is surrounded by a crowd of tipsy people asking for more drinks, and he’s doing all that he can to keep up with the other bartender who was now grumbling annoyedly to himself.

Jackooff’s voice brings you back to reality, and he takes your hand while standing up, helping you out of the seat.

“Your presence will make this evening even more delightful than I had anticipated,” he says, looking over you yet again when you stand up fully.

“Is it just my presence that you require this evening, then?” You tease, looking up at him playfully.

“I think that we both know that is not all on my mind.” He kisses your hand once again, beginning to head towards the doors behind the second guard. You follow close behind him, trying to get Skywalker to notice the two of you leaving to no avail. He was completely bombarded with customers, and you observe him hastily grabbing whatever non empty bottles that he can find from the wall and pouring them as fast as he can. It seemed like he was taking the advice that you had given to him sarcastically yesterday; he really was mixing random colors together and hoping that they would work. You hold in a snort.

You sigh frustratedly, willing a stray napkin off of a table near him with the Force and crumpling it into a ball while it hangs in the air, throwing it at his head from your direction. He barely flinches but still looks around to see where it came from, spotting you motioning urgently with your hands for him to leave with you, mouthing follow to get the point across.

He places the rag that had been slung around his shoulder back on the counter, saying something to the other bartender that causes him to nod before opening a door behind the bar and yelling through it, a girl emerging from the back and starting to make drinks that were requested of her by the half drunk customers.

Skywalker exits through the side opening of the bar counter as soon as you leave the club through the front doors, following Jackooff and his guard down the wide sidewalk to your right. Checking behind you to see if Skywalker was there, you see him open the door quietly, walking with such little noise that you wonder why he chooses to stomp around all of the time.

A black speeder is visible in the distance, parked alongside the road. It’s already started based on the hum of the engine that you can hear even from this distance, and you’d find it to be a gorgeous vehicle if it didn’t belong to someone like Jackooff. At this point, you realize with a smack to the face that Skywalker had no idea where you were headed, and had no speeder to get there. How could you tell him? Walking backwards and having a conversation with him right in front of Jackooff and his goon was an absolute no-go, so how would you inform him of where you were heading?

Oh, that’s right. Jackooff thinks all women are naïve, innocent little things. You can just act like that.

For quite a long time, as long as you had lived inside of the Temple on Coruscant, you had wanted to attend the opera there. It was supposedly very beautiful, a decidedly abstract slew of performances that you were desperate to see, but never were allowed the time nor money to go and visit. You base your hint on this, it being the first thing that you can think of, but tone down your personal thoughts to seem less well rounded. 

Taking a few quick steps to get close to him once more, you take hold of his arm and giggle, sighing dreamily into the night air with a whimsical demeanor about you. “The opera! I can’t believe we’re going to a place so fancy!” You giggle again into Jackooff’s arm, and he chuckles along with you.

“I’m glad that I can give you this experience, sweetheart.” He tugs you closer to him, pinning you uncomfortably to his side as his guard opens the car door. He lets you slide in first, your ass not wanting to slide easily across the leather seats inside. He’s about to duck into the car as well before he stops, putting his hand in the air to stop his guard from closing the door and standing up.

“Wait.” His face seems apprehensive, and he looks around, squinting in the direction that Skywalker was following the two of you from. The guard reaches for the blaster that was tucked into a sheath attached to his pants, and your heart beats so loud in your chest that you’re sure that Jackooff can hear it from where he’s from. You half expect him to yell ‘surprise!’ and shoot you right then and there.

Fortunately for you, though, he does not kill you. He shakes his head as if he had been hearing things, taking one last suspicious look outside before getting into the seat alongside you and placing his hand on your leg once more. He really has a thing for unwanted physical touch, doesn’t he?

The two guards sit in the front of the car, quietly bickering over what station to tune the radio to before they begin driving off. They decide to put it on some random pop channel, the sound of a catchy song in a foreign language filling your ears. The guard in the passenger seat begins to hum along to the tune, and you have to suppress the laugh that was about to come out of your mouth when he does.

The driver moves the speeder into the road, pulling the steering towards him so that it would lift higher into the air and into the invisible tiers of roads that filled the city. Skywalker better have gotten the hint that you gave to your location, or else you’d be royally, totally fucked.

Chapter Text

The ride is much bumpier than you would have expected. On several occasions, the driver of the speeder would stop the vehicle abruptly while watching other speeders zoom past you, yelling and cursing the reckless driving of the anonymous citizens that were also making their way around through the invisible roads high above the ground. The constant jerking shoved you into Jackooff’s stiff side more than a handful of times, happening so often that you wonder if the constant jerkiness of the ride was purposeful.

“Tolby, I suspect that the music is much too loud for the lady. Lower the volume.” Jackooff chuckles to himself, leering at you in a quick glance to your face and waiting for an answer from Tolby. No such answer is given, and his fellow guard in the passenger seat sniggers at his ignorance. Jackooff squints his eyes with annoyance, raising his voice to be louder but still sounding eerily calm. “Do I need to say it twice?”

The guard on the right’s eyes widen, and he furiously taps Tolby’s shoulder. “Are you deaf? He said to turn the music down.”

“I didn’t hear him! The radio’s on!”

“No shit! Listen, man, I know you’re new, but making him repeat himself to you never ends well.”

Jackooff sits back smugly, taking in their hushed conversation with what seems to be pride, by the look of it. Being known for having a temper in relation to something as simple as someone not hearing what you had said doesn’t seem like something that a person should be boastful about. Then again, this is Jackooff that you’re talking about. Who knows how far the extent of his temper really goes?

The four of you sit in silence save for the catchy music coming from the radio and the torrential rain continuously battering the world outside, Jackooff’s hand still abhorrently placed on your thigh. Silence has always made you uncomfortable, especially in a situation such as the one that you’re in at the moment, so the fact that you’re not fidgeting in some way right now is a grand display of your willpower.

Eventually, you become so uncomfortable at the lack of noise save for the lackluster sound of the music from the radio that your mind decides to conjure up from its murky depths something for you to say, your mouth opening before you can stop it.

“So, uh… how’s business going?” 

Did you actually just say that? Wow, smooth. Great detective work on your part, idiot.

Jackooff turns his head slightly to the left to look at you, blinking slowly as he eyes you from the side with a frown etched onto his face. He stares at you like this for a disconcerting amount of time, analyzing your expression that you’re attempting to keep calm before looking straight forward again while he answers.

“I do not speak of my work in my pastime.” There is a finality in his voice, warning you to not approach the subject any further than you already have. The silence settles into the car once more, a few sharp turns being taken by Tolby breaking up the monotony every once in a while. Your mouth is determinedly zipped shut now, however uneasy the lack of talking made you feel, as you didn’t want to jeopardize yourself anymore than you already had.

After two more songs had played and went on the now much quieter radio, you feel more than see through the window the speeder beginning to rapidly descend, butterflies filling your stomach at the sudden change. You inhale sharply at the drop and grip onto the edge of your seat, cursing Tolby’s chaotic attempt at driving and trying to not let your stomach jump out of your throat. Jackooff and Tolby seem perfectly put together throughout all of this even though the guard in the passenger seat is not, leading you to suspect that Tolby’s horrendous driving was a purposeful attempt to make any new passenger of Jackooff’s feel distressed, therefore being weaker in the head if they were a foe of some kind.

When your speeder finally descends beneath all of the traffic going on up above, Tolby maneuvers onto the ground and drives slowly up to the curb, Jackooff being on the side facing the opera house. You think for a moment about trying to hide your giddy excitement, but decide against it, determining that seeming as ditzy as possible would work in your favor.

Tolby finally stops the car, reaching into the glovebox and grabbing a dark grey umbrella. The guard on the passenger’s side immediately jumps out of his seat, going to open the door for Jackooff while Tolby positions the umbrella above his head, the scaly man slowly exiting the vehicle with an undeserved elegance. He snaps his fingers, the guard synonymously reaching into his coat pockets and giving Jackooff another cigar while lighting it for him, Jackooff inhaling heartily before blowing out the smoke with a satisfied sigh.

You take this as a sign to exit the speeder as well, opening your door and trying to slip out as quickly as possible to get underneath the umbrella with Jackooff, not wanting to be standing right next to the crowded street with different people in speeders zooming by so fast that you’re likely just a flash of color to them. Tolby locks the vehicle with an automatic key with a bored expression before adjusting the umbrella above Jackooff’s head again and you follow his lead, stepping around the perimeter of the car while not expecting much of anything, only to gasp unintentionally when you see the marvelous sight before you.

The lavish architecture of the opera house practically takes your breath away. The ancient columns stretching high above your head likely cost more than even a top trade ship’s yearly earnings would be, tiny designs of symmetrical swirls etched into the stone all the way up. Archways lined themselves in an even row on top of the huge revolving doors, people dressed in their best clothing walking through them and entering inside. Posters inside of elaborate cases placed sparsely on the outside walls indicated mysterious advertisements for the opera that you’d be viewing today, its name of Yot Phantom zi yot Opera stated in spiraling Dosh lettering across the bottom. The roof itself had such intricate detailing and so many tiers that you wouldn’t be able to finish counting them if you tried. Little gargoyles sat on their perches to frighten away anyone who would mean to put the building in harm’s way, and there was a welcoming, almost enchanting light emanating from indoors and the glow of the small lamps attached to the outdoor walls that called you to walk inside. It was almost impossible to try and stop staring at every little detail of the picturesque scene before you.

Jackooff decides to defy impossibility, however, as your dazed admiration is put to an abrupt halt by him slinking his arm around your shoulder, squeezing you close to him in the process and giving you a physical reminder of the shit stain of a person that you have to interact with tonight. 

“Take it all in, darling.” Jackooff gestures loosely to the extravagant building in front of you, pushing your back with his arm and walking forward to herd you towards the stairs. Was he stupid enough to not see you doing just what he said a moment ago?

“It’s stunning,” you say, willing your voice to sound excited while wondering how long the building process took, as more minute details included in the stone masonry become apparent with every step that you take. A line of huge, hulking bodyguard droids stand in front of each of the three revolving doors, checking the tickets of those looking to enter and either shoving away or worse the people without the fortune of having one. You withhold the urge to roll your eyes at rich people and their kriffing over the top security measures.

“Quite a remarkable feat of architecture. I dare say it’s one of the finest buildings in all of Hosnian Prime.” The two of you walk in unison up the thin steps, Jackooff’s guards behind you.

“I’d have to agree with you.” You smile at him, knowing that you quite literally have to agree with him, as you barely know what any other buildings on the planet look like.

You unlatch yourself from him as you reach the droids checking everyone’s tickets, the one nearest shifting his head in your direction, ready to usher you away if needed. He was wearing quite a dapper bow tie, its hue of a deep, sparkling gold, the fabric drenched in water from him walking around in the rain. All of the other droids standing guard at the front wore the same accessory, all looking un-intrigued with their jobs and repeating the same monotonous tasks over and over again with all of the customers. It must be terrible to be forced to stand around all night and watch people go inside while you’re simply at your post, bored. Did they pass the time with conversation? “Hi there!”

The droid stares at you, unmoving while Jackooff reaches into the inside pocket of his suit to grab the tickets. When he had pondered your greeting for a few seconds, he decides to finally respond. “Good evening.”

You smile lightly at him, opening your mouth to say something back before you’re entirely cut off by Jackooff.

“You weren’t told that you could speak to her, scrap pile.” Jackooff speaks up behind you, smoke blowing in the droid’s face while a sneer prominently shows itself across his own as he hands the droid the tickets.

“What? I spoke to him—“

“No need to be upset, darling. That clanker won’t have the audacity to speak up like that to you again.” He looks at the droid disparagingly, his upper lip curling up in a sense of disgust. The droid looks down at the ground, obviously thinking over something before he quickly scans over the tickets, handing them back to Jackooff and gesturing loosely to the revolving door.

“My apologies, sir. Have a good night.” He then looks away from the two of you, scanning two small stubs that the guards were holding, likely something to signify that they weren’t here to view the opera and instead to work. As you step inside next to Jackooff, you pick up your jaw that had previously been on the floor.

Anger bubbles up inside of you as you push the door forward, it turning left and in a circle as you enter. You were the one who had addressed the droid in the first place, and Jackooff had so rudely provoked him when he was simply being cordial in return. Discrimination against droids was a prominent problem across the galaxy, but the fact that Coruscant was populated with man and machine on equally good terms with each other never allowed you to get a full glimpse of the prejudice that was felt towards them by so many. With Hosnian Prime being so similar to Coruscant, you’d expect similar views, as well, but apparently you had been wrong. Maybe that’s why you had seen so few droids here in the first place with the time that you’ve spent on the planet.

When you look over your shoulder to check if the guards were still behind you, you notice people other than Jackooff having the same look of disgust on their faces at interacting with a droid, and you have to keep on repeating to yourself that your task is to catch the thug next to you, not advocating about droid equality even though it should already be presented to them in the first place. Huffing to yourself, you turn your head back front ways and even out your facial features so that they’re not morphed into a scowl, Jackooff’s goons escorting the two of you a few feet back.

The guards follow suit behind you and Jackooff and you do a once over of the interior of the establishment, perusing your eyes over the design on the inside of the building that matched the utter fantasticness of its exterior. A humongous, intricate painting of what looked to be a battle waging beneath a turbulent sea was painted on the ceiling, blasters being shot from both sides of the war at each other while giant, roaring waves soared above them. If it was symbolism for something, you couldn’t tell what for. Two grand staircases spiral up to the second floor, joining together at the top when they meet their destination. Carved stone statues of all different species line the walls, their natural forms on display for all to see. A section to your left held a small but regal restaurant for what you would guess to be entertainment during intermissions, lace patterned tablecloths coating the small circular tables spread around the area. Overall, it was exactly what you would have expected an opera house to look like, albeit still surprising you with its beauty.

Jackooff walks forward with a strange elegance while having you on his arm, his chin held high in the air even as his eyes betrayed his true demeanor, snapping hungrily back and forth throughout the room before settling on a Gammorean man caressing the lekku of a purple skinned Twi’lek woman wearing an even darker shade of purple for her dress, her giggling nervously in the process while her counterpart, a woman with rich, dark skin and flowing hair decorated with jewelry is being held by the waist to him.

Jackooff saunters over to this man, clearing his throat to break the Gammorean out of his dazed stupor from staring at the beautiful women, the man’s head instantly turning in the two of your’s directions. He looks at you hungrily, a small grunt emanating at the back of his throat as he does. Really? Two women wasn’t enough for him?

He makes eye contact with Jackooff, nodding respectfully towards him and earning a nod in return. You notice that the man was wearing a golden ring identical to the one on Jackooff’s index finger. A sign that they’re affiliated in the same crime ring, perhaps?

Jackooff’s arm squeezes you just a little tighter as you’re in front of the Gammorean, ugly possessiveness already making itself known. “Polusko, old friend! I see you’ve already started with some appetisers.” He chuckles at this even as his eyes have no sense of life in them, gesturing towards the women on Polusko’s arm. Polusko laughs back, his eyes equally as blank. Their interactions were so discomforting that you get a small chill down your spine.

“Letting such fine entertainment go to waste would practically be a sin.” The two chuckle once more. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Jackooff. Heard you had some personal matters to attend.”

“I would never surrender the opportunity to see such a show as the one we’re seeing tonight. I’m quite the fan of the arts, as you know.” He looks at the naked statues on the walls with a less than artistically appreciative look in his eyes. “What are you doing out of Darrapolis?” He takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes staring piercingly at Polusko, visibly intimidating the man. Polusko unhooks himself from the women beside him, adjusting his tie with a distinguished air.

“I mean no disrespect by entering your turf without notice, Jackooff.” He buttons the front of his jacket. “I simply had some family matters to attend to here, and decided to stop by the opera while I had the chance.”

Jackooff nods at this, accepting the apology from Polusko and dropping his arm off of you, making you realize just how tight he was holding your rib cage. You wince partially when you take a full breath again, the dull feeling of pain going away after a few more inhales.

“I hold family men in high regard.” He puffs his cigar again, holding the smoke in for a few seconds before letting out his breath, the smoke collecting in front of Polusko’s face. Polusko doesn’t say a word in response to this offense, patiently waiting for Jackooff to finish his sentence. “Stay in the city as long as you’d like. Kriff, stop by my club if you wish. I have quite the collection of show stoppers like this one gathered there.” He motions his head over to you and Polusko ogles you with a look that makes you want to cross your arms over your chest.

“You’re too good to me, Jackooff. I owe you one.” Polusko reaches out his sweaty fingers for a handshake which Jackooff reciprocates, his shake being so crushing that you can see Polusko wince. Jackooff glances at his watch during this interaction, dusting off his hands when he lets go of Polusko.

“I’ll remember that.” He laughs lightly and takes a step back, motioning casually to the grand staircases in the center of the room. “The show shall begin soon, so I must make my leave.”

Polusko nods earnestly, a small oink slipping out of him in the process. Now that takes a lot out of you to not let out a loud giggle at. “Yes, of course. I should head to my seat, as well.” The women next to him grab onto his arms, staring at you for a second before looking back at their suitor.

“I should hope to speak with you again before you leave the city. Until then.” Jackooff turns the two of you towards the staircase where a few other people were already stepping upwards, Polusko gulping audibly to your side as you begin to walk and the constant, loud steps of Tolby and his coworker behind you keeping you on edge. How were you supposed to catch Jackooff if he was constantly being guarded?

You see Polusko walk through some doors in between the two staircases that lead to the first floor seating in your peripheral vision as you start up the stairs, a much larger crowd of people following suit behind him. Jackooff inhales his cigar once again.

“Have you seen this play before, sweet?” Jackooff’s voice surprises you out of your thinking and you jump at the sudden sound, causing him to chuckle. “Now what were you thinking so earnestly about?”

“I was staring into nowhere, my apologies.” A lie, but you can’t particularly announce that you were wondering how to capture the man, could you? “ I haven’t seen this before, actually, but I’ve heard brief mentions of it.”

You reach the top of the stairs, the two of you heading through two ornately carved doors against a wall to the very left and stepping into a hallway decorated with flickering, long candles placed in holders along the walls and paintings of regal looking individuals in their best clothing.

“That’s quite interesting, as Hosnian Prime’s theaters were recently gifted a collection of different works that had previously only been performed at other establishments on Coruscant.” Oh shit. You had let that fact slip out on accident.

Laughing nervously, you grip onto his arm and run your hand up and down his sleeve. “Word travels fast, I guess.” Top tier lying, dipshit.

Jackooff looks at you with a smile, passing by multiple entrances to balconies and rooms that you walk by. “Women are prone to gossip; I suppose I should have known that you’d already heard of this new play.” Wow, he’s adding misogyny into the mix, too? What a catch!

“Catching up on gossip is a favorite pastime of mine.” You decide that heartily agreeing with his societal views will get you closer to him, even if they’re disgusting.

“I should have suspected as such.” The two of you reach the end of the hallway and Jackooff indicates towards the room to your right. There’s velvet curtains hanging above the door frame as decoration, and you push them aside as you enter.

It’s simply but effectively decorated, a loveseat and two lounge chairs with a small table in front of them placed in the middle of the room with gold and maroon decorations placed everywhere. A minibar was set up in the corner of the room, and a balcony opposite where you stood overlooks the stage, being incredibly close but high enough up so that you can still remain dignified. The soft hum of the invisible barrier that keeps people from falling off of the ledge and trapping any sound made inside so guests could converse without interrupting the play ricochets soundly off of the elaborate walls, and the smell coming from a tray of fruit resting on a side table fills the room.

Jackooff enters behind you, hand brushing along your back and leaving as he walks forward and slowly sits on the loveseat, peering over the balcony to view the people shuffling in below and the symphony warming up in their pit. The two guards waiting behind you sigh impatiently, and when Jackooff sees that you haven’t moved, he raises his brow, patting on the seat next to him ardently.

Where is Skywalker?

“Relax, my dear. Do me the honor of sitting next to me.” Forcing your legs to move, you approach the loveseat and sit down as delicately as you’re able to muster, crossing your legs for good measure. The two guards follow in behind you, Tolby standing in place by the doorway while the other stands near the bar, overseeing the two of you carefully.

Scooting over closer to Jackooff, you place your hand on his knee and make sure that your hip is lightly touching his own. He seems content with you doing this, so you keep your position as he grabs the tray of fruit next to him, putting out his cigar on the tray, and picks up a slice of Jogan fruit, holding a napkin underneath his chin as the juice from the slice runs down. He takes yet another bite, and your eyes drift over to the plate placed haphazardly upon his lap. A string of grapes was placed tantalizingly across the platter, and you can feel your stomach angrily grumble out of hunger.

“I have plenty to share. My women must always be well nourished,” Jackooff declares next to you, a sense of pride coming off of him. He lifts a grape from off of the platter and raises his hand towards you in an attempt to feed you himself, and almost immediately the dull pain stemming from your hunger melts away from the repulsion of his offer. You shake your head.

“No thank you, I’m not hungry.” You had a hunch that you shouldn’t accept any food or drink from the man.

“Sweet, you’re my guest. Guests do not decline offers of food from their host.” A threatening tinge to his voice was starting to appear, and you nervously clear your throat.

“I just feel a little nauseated, is all. I don’t mean to be rude.” He contemplates your answer for a few seconds before turning forward once more, taking another bite of the fruit and perusing over the crowd.

“Then take a drink, instead.” He nods over to the guard by the minibar, choosing your drink for you. “Get her a Nitpick.”

The guard instantly steps over, beginning to make a drink for you amateurishly before you can even begin to protest either his or Jackooff’s actions in the first place. Jackooff glances over at you and smirks at your surprised expression, leaning in close to your ear to whisper. “Don’t be anxious, darling. It’s virgin.”

You force out a weak smile, wanting to leave the room that instant even though you know that you can’t. Virgin? Really? He just had to phrase it like that.

There were many different types of people downstairs, all having lively conversations with the person next to them or gesturing towards the stage. There was one couple who at one second seemed to be bickering madly with each other, and within the time that you flick your eyes towards a separate section of the crowd and back again, they’re practically locking lips. The opera brings out everyone’s dramatic side, you’d suppose.

Taking a peek at the orchestra pit and trying to decipher which instruments and their musicians were set up where, you feel a strange tug to look up at the currently curtain covered stage, and see something that you would not have expected. In fact, you do a double take to make sure that you’re not seeing things.

An aggravatingly familiar man in a crimson red suit was poking his head in between the billowing black curtains, looking back and forth throughout the crowd in front of him as if searching for you and Jackooff. Skywalker? How did he get back there? How many mind tricks did it take for him to be able to slip backstage without repercussions or, better yet, poke his head out of the curtains? You couldn’t tell if he was a complete idiot or some kind of genius. At least you know that he’s here. If he’ll be able to find where you are is another question altogether. He may have had a stroke of good luck by getting backstage, but would he be lucky enough to locate the exact balcony that you’re on?

He abruptly disappears from in between the curtains without a second glance, leaving the few spectators below that had caught a glimpse of him mumbling quietly to each other. The guard that made your Nitpick speedily thrusts the glass into your hand, the tiny straw inside almost falling out from the force of it. You hold the drink awkwardly on top of your thigh, not wanting to drink it at all.

“Drink, drink,” Jackooff says, rubbing your shoulder with his sticky, juice-covered fingers before he goes back to chowing down on the platter of fruit below him. You very hesitantly bring the straw to your lips, closing them over it and pretending to take a gulp of the liquid, swallowing air to make the fake sip more realistic. “Perfect. Was that hard?” His voice is taunting, almost as if he was talking to a child. You pretend to laugh, setting the drink onto the table in front of you.

“It wasn’t.” Jackooff finishes the last of the fruit on the plate and sets it back down on the table next to him, Tolby instantly grabbing it and leaving the room for a split second before coming back empty handed.

“Nitpicks are known to be aphrodisiacs. Did you know that, dear?” You roll your eyes internally, feigning surprise at his comment. Seems as if your hunch that he had spiked the drink with something was right; good thing you didn’t drink it.

Pretending to giggle mildly, you lean in to quote his own words from earlier this evening back into his ear. “Eager, aren’t we?”

Jackooff chuckles, stopping when you both see the orchestra suddenly ceasing the tuning and testing of their instruments, and the lights beginning to dim. The buzz of conversation that had previously been filling the room slowly dies down, a few people shushing each other and telling one another to be quiet as the orchestra begins to play a haunting tune. The curtains separate from each other, lifting themselves up and out of view into the wings of the stage and revealing the several actors in full costume either in or next to the spotlight. A woman in the middle of the limelight takes a deep breath and begins to sing an aria, swishing her sleeves around while doing so.

You hold your breath without noticing, taking in the high notes that she’s able to achieve with such gracefulness and feeling yourself lean forward while watching her. Jackooff shifts in his seat next to you, causing you to break your face away from the woman singing and turn it towards him, smiling. “Overhearing praise about how good the music is can’t compare to how it sounds in person.”

He side eyes you, turning his gaze towards the singer again while spinning a ring on his left hand that’s placed on the arm of the loveseat for a second in silence before speaking, looking at the crowd below instead of you.

“I’d like to know more about your knowledge of this opera.” Your heart sinks, the feeling of being caught in the sweets jar overtaking you.

“What? Oh, I really don’t know much. Just bits and pieces, like I said.” Your voice is more steady than you feel.

“Enlighten me about what you do.” His eyes are still on the spectators on the first floor.

“Well,” you cough into the crook of your elbow, trying to clear your voice to be more smooth. “It’s a love triangle. The girl has to choose between the ‘bad boy’ and the ‘good guy’ types.”

Jackooff nods appreciatively, still slowly spinning the ring on his finger. “And what of the girl? What do you know of her?”

You think for a second, trying to find a good explanation. “She’s incredibly naïve in how she interacts with the world around her, and is easily manipulated. She’s also gorgeous, so I’m told.”

He turns to look at you, his relaxed posture not quite matching his energy. “Did you not forget something?”

Puzzled, you look at him with a confused look on your face. “Did I? I didn’t realize.”

“She’s a double agent.” Your eyes go wide and your body rigid at this, but you try to remain calm. Jackooff laughs heartily, leaning his head back against the cushioned top of the couch before lifting it up again to speak once more. “She betrays the ‘bad’ man that loved her for the morally good one in the end.”

The two guards stiffen their posture, moving their hands slightly downward to grip onto their blasters in their holsters. Jackooff continues to stare at you, regarding each and every emotion that comes across your face.

He knows.

You scoot to the edge of the couch and away from him, not making any attempt to attack yet. Jackooff stays in his casual pose, an amused look on his face instead of one of anger. In one final attempt to keep cover, you try to blow over his passive accusation.

“That’s quite an interesting ending.” He stares at you for a second before looking at his guards, and the three of them burst into cold laughter. You stay incredibly still, glancing between the three of them while completely on edge. When they finally stop, Jackooff adjusts himself to sit closer to you, giving you no room to scoot away anymore than you already have. 

“Don’t play coy with me, gahoo. I’ve known what you were before you even stepped foot inside of my club.”

Taking a deep breath, you try to release the panic that was settling in the middle of your chest and causing your heart to flutter. “How did you find out?”

“Jedi are not the only ones who have informants, dear.” An informant? But who? “Although I must say, your acting skills are quite proficient.” He lifts his hand, using one of his sharp nails to hold the tip of your chin.

“Thanks. Appreciate it.” The sarcasm in your voice is quite apparent, and he chuckles, letting go of your chin.

“It seemed as if all of your repressed desires were surfacing during your interactions with me.” His voice seemed taunting. Playful, even.

“Repressed desires? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He clicks his tongue disappointedly at you.

“Language is unbecoming of a lady.” He stands up from the couch, looking downwards to speak to you who was still seated. “Your Order does not let you deeply explore your hidden urges.”

“I can’t understand you when you talk in riddles, especially with that accent.” He huffs at this, running a hand over the top of his scaly head while thinking for a second.

“Jedi are not allowed certain... pleasures, yes?” Oh Maker. He’s going there.

You cross your arms, cocking a brow at him aggrievedly. “Depends on what you mean by ‘pleasures.’”

He smirks, placing his hand on the arm of the couch and leaning in. “You know exactly what I mean, sweet.” Your body involuntarily shivers from disgust, Jackooff’s prying eyes looking straight at you.

Jedi have always had rumors spread about them, as any renowned figures of society would. You had overheard some completely ridiculous ones, such as all Jedi worked for the Hutts, or that you only bathed once a month. There had also been humorous ones, like the time false information had spread about certain Jedi being able to converse with animals. But along with the harmless rumors, dangerous ones have also spread around.

The rumor that you now know Jackooff has heard is one that had been going around for a month or two last year; one that proclaimed all Jedi were entirely celibate, never being allowed to touch themselves or others in a sexual fashion. On its own, this talk didn’t mean much. Everyone just thought that the Jedi didn’t fuck, and that didn’t affect you. When things started getting bad with this rumor, however, is when people began to fetishize it. Entire plans were concocted by criminals to kidnap Jedi and see for themself if the whispers were true, and that was the dangerous part. Jackooff must be one of the perverts that was into this kind of bantha fodder. The gossip about Jedi celibacy had died out long ago, and yet Jackooff was still searching for Jedi prey to pounce on.

Slowly standing up so that you don’t alarm anyone, you step beside Jackooff, squinting your eyes and straightening your posture at him. “So you’re one of those guys, huh?”

His eyes are half lidded while staring at you, a sly smile making an appearance. “You haven’t denied it.” His breath quickens, and he takes a single step towards you. Was he already getting off to this?

You take a small step back to counteract his advancement, quickly looking at the guards and seeing both of them carrying their blasters out of their holsters now, arms hanging at their sides but ready to aim and fire if needed. “Those are just rumors, Jackooff. Of course I... take care of myself.” You cringe to yourself at saying this out loud.

He smiles once again, turning back around and sitting on the couch. “Then let me take care of you.” The point of his invitation was crystal clear, and you immediately shake your head no.

“I’ll have to pass on that opportunity, thanks.” His upper lip twitches, and you spot his hand slowly curling up into a ball.

“I am a very powerful man, darling. No sane person would pass up the opportunity to have me bed them.”

Letting out a snort at his arrogance, you shift your weight to one leg while crossing your arms again. “Call me insane, then. I would never sleep with you.”

Jackooff turns his head towards the guard near the minibar, nodding annoyedly in your direction. The goon holds his blaster up towards you, taking brisk steps to where you were standing and placing a hand on your shoulder and shoving you towards the couch, forcing you down once again on the seat next to Jackooff. Your lightsaber was still tucked conveniently inside of your boot, but you’d have to reach down to grab it, which would be a suspicious move. So you go along with what Jackooff is planning, about to slide away as far as possible from him before the guard angles his blaster at you in warning, making sure you don’t move away.

The guard stands a few feet away from the couch with his blaster at ready while Jackooff places his arm around your shoulders, your body tensing and the hairs on the back of your neck rising in reaction to his touch. “I’ll be gentle with you, don’t worry. Such an untainted body like yours deserves as such.”

What?

Placing your hands on his arm, you instantly peel it off of you, throwing it back to him with an intense look of disdain, your upper lip curling into a sneer. “I think you misheard me, because there’s absolutely no way that you’re continuing to assume that I'd ever have sex with you.” You point your finger at his chest with an accusational connotation. “You’re also making assumptions about my personal life. Who are you to know if I’ve slept with people or not?”

He takes a deep, ragged breath, plastering on a smile with similar fakeness as the one that he had shared with Polusko, and his hand is curling into a fist once more. “You do not mean that.”

“I have no reason to lie, Jackooff.” You look him directly in the eyes, his arrogance spurring your retaliation to him on. “You are one of the most disgusting men that I have ever had the chance to meet. You’ve been conceited, hateful and disrespectful to everyone that I’ve seen you interact with, including me.”

He goes stiff, narrowing his eyes at you. The two of you sit like this for a few seconds, fuming at each other with a fire that makes you want to wring his thick, scaly neck, before he moves. He slides his hands towards you slowly, taking a hold of your hand with his own and sliding the other into your forearm. You’re about to yank away from him when he harshly tugs you by the arm towards him, squeezing your body to him with crushing force. He leans forward and you see him reaching one of his hands between the couch cushions, emerging with a long, curved knife that has twinges of purple inside of its metal. Maneuvering his arm so that it whips over your back and curls onto your neck, he hovers the blade directly above your skin, still gripping you to him. He shoves you lower so that he can whisper in your ear.

“I suppose that I'll have to force some manners into you, some way or another.”

The salacious grin that you feel against your ear is what sets you off. You jerk your hand roughly towards the guard still standing next to the couch, willing his body to be slammed into the wall, to which he falls unconscious. Tolby lets out a shout behind you, and you place your hand on Jackooff’s, about to rip it off of you when Jackooff yells something in another language to Tolby, who sprints out of the door. When you get Jackooff’s hand off of your waist and are about to give him the same treatment as the guard to your right, Tolby comes back into the room, panting heavily while holding his blaster to a terrified looking Zabrak girl’s head, her eyes glancing around the room in panic. You freeze, your hand still gripped around Jackooff’s wrist and about to snatch him away from your throat.

“Who is she?” You sound surprisingly firm, and you look between Tolby, Jackooff and the girl. The sounds of the opera occurring below don’t match the atmosphere of the room in any way.

The girl speaks up before either of the conscious men in the room do, her voice wavering and on the edge of a sob. “I’m just a maid— I... I was cleaning out one of the rooms and he...” She quickly glances towards the blaster held against her, looking back at you with pleading eyes. Jackooff pants heavily next to you, breathy laughter coming in between his quick heaves.

“That’s right, sweet. She’s an innocent bystander.” You scowl at him from the side, not turning your head in the fear that doing so would slice your neck. “And if you don’t do exactly as I say, she’ll die.”

You take a deep breath, looking over at the frantic girl again. She’s trembling beneath Tolby’s grasp, entirely helpless. Right now, the only chance of her making it out of here is if you listen to Jackooff. “Okay.”

He practically purrs into your ear, using his other arm to trace lightly along your back. “Okay what, my dear?”

You wrinkle your nose in revulsion, closing your eyes to avoid having to look at him. “Okay, I’ll do what you want. Just... don’t hurt her.”

He hums in delight, setting his knife along the side table and throwing you back along the length of the couch, your head hitting its arm in the process. You wince at the sensation as he towers over you, looking you over hungrily before descending slowly, letting his tongue out of his mouth and licking a slimy trail along the side of your neck with a groan that you almost gag at when there’s a loud knock on the door.

Jackooff’s head snaps in the direction of the noise, Tolby and him making eye contact with each other quizzically. The guard that had previously been knocked out by your offensive body slam shakes his head awake, blinking hard before standing up again, albeit still woozy.

“Hey, uh, it’s me.” A familiar but muffled voice rings from outside, and Jackooff sighs in annoyance at hearing it. “You told me to come here to get my money.”

Jackooff removes himself from above you, pinching his nose bridge in frustration. “Open the door.”

The door creaks loudly as it opens, revealing the lanky, off putting figure of a man that you had just recently become acquainted with. He doesn’t see you at first, as you're partially hidden by the back of the couch, instead nodding in casual acceptance towards Tolby holding the maid hostage before turning to look at Jackooff, shutting the door behind him and putting his hands in his pockets.

“You’re early, Tig.” Jackooff’s voice drips with ire.

“Shit, my bad. I must’ve caught you in the middle of somethin’. Should I come back later? Or—“ Tig trails off as he spots your head laid upon the arm of the loveseat, and he chuckles, walking languidly around to the front of the room to see you in your entirety. “I really caught you in the middle of somethin’.”

“Ever the observant man, you are.” Jackooff huffs again, looking at you with a warning in his eyes that says stay put before getting off of the couch, straightening out his jacket and standing in front of Tig. “I had thought we agreed upon meeting when the opera ended.”

Tig shuffles back and forth on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I’m not the best at estimatin’ things.”

“I can see that.” Jackooff reaches into his coat pocket, searching around for a second before pulling out a wad of credits, placing them in Tig’s hand. “Three thousand, as discussed.”

Tig flips his finger through the stack, whistling loudly at the money he held in his hands. “Much appreciated.” You intensely glare at Tig from your position on the couch and he snorts, stepping towards the couch and squatting down to be tauntingly eye level with you. “What is it, mama? Bernadette got your tongue?”

You shoot a large glob of spit in his face that he staggers backwards at, rubbing it off with his sleeve and smirking. You groan exasperatedly, cupping your face with your hands to cover up your reaction to his betrayal. “Why did you do this?”

He lifts the bills that he has in his hands up to be in line with your face, counting them with that same smirk still on display self righteously. “What was it that you said to me earlier, when you were askin’ if I wanted to join in on your little plan?” He points at you with the money, laughing in the process. “That’s right, ‘good for business.’ That’s what you said.”

“You cunt.” You emphasize the last word with as much furious gusto as you can muster, to which he only laughs at. You continue to glower at him as he turns around, gesturing to you with his hand while talking to Jackooff.

“Listen, since you’re already getting busy with her and everythin’, can I watch?” A quiet, shocked gasp comes out of your mouth before you can stop it. “I’ve wanted her ever since she stepped foot in my house, man. But she was too much of a bitch to do anythin’ at the time, though.”

“She’s been incredibly impolite to me, as well.” Jackooff gestures to an armchair beside the couch, to which Tig smiles at him, sitting himself down and crossing his arms behind his head, getting comfortable. “Perhaps you spectating will make her more compliant.”

You squeeze your hands into tight fists, trying to channel your anger and fear into them instead of into Jackooff. The only thing stopping you from dragging him out of here bloody was the fact that an innocent, terrified girl was staring right at you, tears streaming down her face. You continue to make eye contact with her, mouthing it’ll be okay to her. She smiles hesitantly, but it doesn’t truly meet her eyes.

Jackooff turns towards you once more, casually sitting before leaning over you, getting close enough to take a deep inhale of your hair, sniffing you. What pleasure he finds in that, you don’t know. You undoubtedly smell like sweat and smoke from your interactions this evening.

Tig leans forward in his chair, trying to get a better view of you. “Hey, maybe you could—“

He’s cut off by the doorknob turning, and everyone in the room sets their eyes upon it. Time seems to go in slow motion for a split second, and you see the door slam harshly against the wall with a ferocity that you wouldn’t have expected coming from the man who steps inside of the room, glancing around wildly until he makes eye contact with you, and you audibly sigh in relief.

Skywalker.

Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, everything goes back to real time. Skywalker shoots his arm towards Tolby who was holding the maid hostage, his gun flinging behind him and his body folding over after his impact with the hard wall to his back. The girl scampers onto her feet and out of the door, and Skywalker moves onto the next guard. You take this as your moment to get Jackooff the fuck off of you, so you throw him onto the ceiling, dragging him back and forth across the carved stone to make sure it hurts. You hear the guard behind you get swiftly knocked out for the second time this evening, his grunt being followed by silence. In the corner of your eye, you can see Tig grab Jackooff’s knife off of the side table, creeping in Skywalker’s direction.

“Skywalker! Behind you!” He turns around, seeing Tig stepping toward him with the knife poised in the air, ready to strike. Skywalker instantly moves his hand to his saber, pulling it out and turning it on in one move before slicing in the air above him, two thumps echoing on the floor and Tig’s loud screaming following. You look over in their direction, stopping your slamming of Jackooff back and forth around the ceiling and instead crashing him onto the floor, him leaning against the wall. Both of Tig’s severed hands lay pathetically on the ground, accompanied by their previous owner writhing in pain next to them.

“Did you just cut off his fucking hands?” Skywalker doesn’t respond, instead walking over to your side of the room with a darkness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

He reaches Jackooff, his face contorted almost into one of pain while positioning his lightsaber directly next to the man’s neck before raising the blade, about to strike. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you place your hand softly upon his arm, breaking him out of his trance. He turns his eyes to you, eyebrows scrunched together in the middle in worry and eyes looking quickly back and forth between your own, chest heaving up and down in an anxious way. You shake your head at him, silently telling him not to do it, and he slowly lowers his saber, deactivating it and hesitantly placing it back inside of his belt.

He opens his mouth as if he wants to speak, but then closes it, looking at the floor and running his hands through his hair. You put your hands on both of his arms, causing him to look up at you as you nod. You take a deep, solid breath, motioning for him to do the same. He follows you, staring you in the eyes before you let go.

Jackooff begins to laugh with an almost maniacal quality next to you, blood spilling out of his mouth stemming from his obvious loss of teeth from your slamming. “Cowards! You’re too weak even to kill—“ You grab both sides of his head, pulling it towards you and then slamming it against the wall as hard as you can. He instantly passes out, a small stream of blood leaving his partially open mouth as he leans back against the wall, his arm resting on top of his stomach with the other limp on the ground.

“He’ll be fine,” you say to Skywalker, his eyes still showcasing his worry that you can’t place what for. Even as you say this, though, you glance over to the unconscious man again, looking over his crumpled body. “Probably.”

The two of you stand there, not knowing what to say, Skywalker’s hands still shaking. Tig’s agonized yelling plus the songs of the opera create a sickly tune in the background, and Skywalker looks at you, then Jackooff, and then you again. “Did he hurt you?”

His voice is noticeably more crackly than normal, and you shake your head while looking away, voice soft. “No. He didn’t actually do anything to me.”

“What do you mean by ‘actually?’” He frantically does a once over of you, taking a tiny step forward.

“Well he tried to, but ultimately failed in the long run.” Skywalker’s chest was still heaving up and down, and you stare at the corner where the maid was taken hostage. “It was about the girl. He said he’d kill her if I didn’t do what he said.”

“Girl?”

“Yeah, she left when you were kicking ass.”

“I didn’t even notice her.” He seems solemn at this, turning around and looking towards the door. “I should check to make sure that she’s alright.”

“Good idea. Go find her while I figure out a way for us to get this idiot out of here.” You motion towards the unconscious Jackooff, clothes torn and still bleeding onto the floor. Skywalker nods absentmindedly, heading outside of the door.

The fact that transporting an unconscious, bloody man all the way to your ship just might be problematic comes across your mind, so you decide to search for something to clean him up with. Stepping towards one of the side tables, you shuffle through the contents of its drawer and see Tig passed out from pain on the floor. In the drawer, you only find a couple of small sized condoms, which you giggle at, and a deck of cards. The other table isn’t much better, holding a small, lukewarm bottle of champagne and a single glass to pour it in. Nothing to clean off Jackooff with.

You decide to settle on a blanket that’s folded over the back of one of the armchairs, flapping it so that it comes undone and beginning to dab at Jackooff’s bloody mouth. Two familiar voices begin to drift in from outside of the door as you clean him and you listen in, wanting to see what the maid says.

“Oh yes, yes! I’m perfectly fine, just a little shaky, is all. Wouldn’t be fine if it wasn’t for her, though.” They aren’t talking too loud, so you have to strain yourself to hear them. “Was going to sacrifice herself right for me, she was. ”

There’s a beat before Skywalker responds to her. “Well, I’m very glad that you’re unharmed.”

The maid giggles lightly, and you can hear her playfully punch his... shoulder? Arm? You couldn’t tell by the sound where she hit. “Hey, I’m glad too, eh?” She laughs again before clicking her tongue in thought. “You think I could get paid leave if I told my boss about this?”

You hold in a laugh at her casual demeanor about the scenario that she was just in, suspecting Skywalker’s doing the same.

“I would think so.” His voice doesn’t have the edge of a laugh to it as you would have expected.

“Amazing. She really was so brave though, sir. Honest to Maker.” She stands in the doorway as Skywalker walks into the room, and you pause your contemplation of how you were going to get Jackooff out of here to look at her. “I was kind of unsure about you Jedi before all of this, but now you’re okay in my book.”

You smile at her, deciding to wrap the blanket around Jackooff almost like a cocoon, satisfied in your work afterwards and standing up. “Well, I’m just glad you’re not too badly affected by this whole experience.”

“I was scared out of my wits in the moment, but I'm pretty fine now.” She smiles triumphantly, her facing changing as she suddenly remembers something. “I should go tell my boss about this right now. She’ll call the police.” Leaning her hand on the doorframe, she looks back before she leaves.

“I hope you get that paid vacation,” you say, laughing along with her at your statement. She waves goodbye merrily and disappears out of the door, leaving you and Skywalker alone.

Placing your hands on your waist, you look down at Jackooff’s limp body, viewing him with a sense of disgust. “We should just carry him out of here.”

Skywalker shakes his head as if to clear it of something before responding. “That could work. I, well…” You cock your head inquisitively at him, grinning at him in the process.

“Go on. Spit it out.”

He looks partially embarrassed, his face turning a tinge of pink. “…I may have stolen a speeder.”

Your raise your eyebrows in surprise, giggling at him. “You stole one? Who are you?”

“I figured getting a taxi didn’t seem right, and we don’t have any vehicles of our own.” His face was still serious, not laughing along with you. You roll your eyes at this, moving Jackooff’s back from the wall and lifting up half of his blanket wrapped body. “We’ll leave it parked next to where our ship was when we leave. Should be pretty easy for its owner to find.”

You grin at the ground, heaving up one side of Jackooff’s very limp and very heavy body. “Come on, thief. Help me pick up this lizard.” Skywalker quickly follows your lead, grabbing the other half and lugging it upwards. Jackooff was way too heavy to lug all the way through the opera house, but the two of you still endeavor to do so, grunting your way along. You both maneuver out of the door and down the hallway, deciding to walk down the stairs horizontally so that both of you would be able to see where you were stepping.

When you pass by the workers at the intermission restaurant, they stare at you with wide eyes, following your every step. You decide to shout them a simple excuse. “We’re taking him to the hospital!”

They seemed to accept your explanation, going back to their previous work while the two of you struggle to get through the revolving doors, finally getting through and into the cold, wet night outside. The droids all turn to look at you suspiciously as you hold Jackooff’s unconscious body, and you spot the one that you had interacted with earlier.

“Hold on,” you say to Skywalker, pausing to turn to the droid. “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. You didn’t deserve to be talked to like that.”

He looks at you blankly, pondering his response again. “It happens often.”

“Well it shouldn’t, and I’m sorry.”

He looks between you and Skywalker, then at the man that you’re both holding suspiciously, before taking hold of him and picking him up for the two of you in his own arms.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that—“

“I want to.”

He waits for you to walk forward, and you and Skywalker look at each other, shrugging. Skywalker leads the way, the three of you getting drenched in the rain as he tries to find the stolen speeder that he had parked.

“Here. It’s this one.” He stops in front of a sleek light blue speeder, opening the backseat door for the droid to place Jackooff in. He slowly slides him inside, shutting the door afterwards and looking at you.

“Skywalker, could you get the speeder started? I want to talk to him for a second.” He stands there for a beat, glancing at you from the side before getting into the driver’s side and starting the vehicle.

“What’s your name?” You ask the droid, his surprise at your question evident.

“J-Thirty.”

“Well, J-Thirty; thank you for helping us.” You smile at him through the rain. “I hope that you’ll be able to move to a planet where you’ll be treated with respect.”

“You’re welcome.” He moves his arm around awkwardly, obviously not knowing what to say. “And thank you.”

You give him a small peck on the cheek, waving to him as you get into the passenger side of the speeder. Skywalker drives off, and you see J-Thirty slowly disappear in the distance until you are no longer able to see him anymore. Hopefully he finds a better place to work.

Leaning your head back against the headrest of the seat, you exhale loudly, finally being able to relax after a stressful few hours. The sound of the rain pattering against the glass of the speeder was a much more comforting sound than it was before in Jackooff’s car, and you close your eyes, embracing the noise and letting it wash over you. Opening your eyes again, you reach into the glove box to try and find some tissues with no luck, then check the center console and get lucky. You start to wipe off your lipstick with the tissue, the rainwater dripping off of your face making it easier to remove. You then attempt to do the same with your eyes, only being able to get the perimeter of the shadow off, still having a dramatic ring of liner framing them. Checking the mirror and feeling decidedly cleaner, you choose to stare out of the window and admire the neon lights of the city that you pass by.

Skywalker doesn’t say anything on the ride to the ship, which is surprising. He’s usually quite the talker, so the fact that he doesn’t say a single word is unusual. You don’t question it though, instead assuming that he’s just tired and ready to get back home like you are.

When you reach the ship, you step out of the speeder and go to open the doors, coming back to it and grabbing Jackooff along with Skywalker. The two of you hurl him into the carbon freezer lent to you from the Order’s private supply, freezing him and stacking him against the wall. The Council voted to let you borrow the freezer so that you’d be able to keep him neutralized and not have to worry about the thug while on the way back from Hosnian Prime, not letting Jackooff have even a chance of escape.

Closing the door, you head up to the front of the ship, collapsing onto the passenger chair like a giant blob, limbs everywhere. Skywalker settles into the pilot’s seat, exhaling shakily as he flicks the same buttons that he had the last few times he had started the ship. You both fasten your seatbelts, being glued to your chairs while Skywalker flies the ship up and out of Hosnian Prime’s atmosphere, heading on a steady course back to Coruscant.

The silence between you both is tired. Comforting, even. Your eyes start to grow heavy with sleep not far into the ride, and you’re about to close them to drift off into faint slumber when Skywalker barely whispers something, either to you or himself you don’t know, while still staring forward into the space in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” His fingers are gripped so hard on the steering that they’re white.

Moving your head sluggishly towards him, you mumble your words. “About what?” You turn your head back frontwards, getting comfortable again.

“It’s my fault that he almost—“ He swallows hard, pursing his lips. “It’s my fault that Jackooff almost hurt you.”

This wakes you up, causing you to lift your head from the back of the chair and then look at him with questioning eyes. “How is that your fault?”

“I came in too late. I should have been there so much earlier.” He starts to chew on the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t come in from the front because of the droids, so I had to find another way in. I should have just pushed through them.”

“They wouldn’t have let you in, Skywalker. You know that they’re specifically designed to be able to fight back against people.”

“I should have tried. Should have done something to try and get to you earlier.” His eyes were still focused in front of him, not daring to look in your direction and continuing to chew on the inside of his cheek.

“Jackooff’s actions are not your fault, Skywalker. You did the best that you could, and so did I. It wouldn’t have really made much of a difference, anyways, because Tig gave us up.”

He doesn’t even react to the last part of your sentence, still breathing shakily from worry and face contorted into an expression of guilt, whispering once again. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart hurts a little at his reaction, wanting to reach out to him but keeping your hands in your own chair. “Skywalker, look at me.” He continues to stare forward, grip like steel against the steering. “Please, just look at me.” He shakes his head lightly, the guilt he’s feeling not letting him. “Skywa—“ You groan frustratedly, slamming your fists against the arms of your chair before turning to him once again, eyes burning with emotion. “Anakin. Please.”

His eyes widen at you saying his name, his head slowly turning to face you. He quickly switches on autopilot to allow him to not have to focus on piloting. “Am I hurt?” You motion your hands to yourself, shaking your head to affirm him no.

He surveys you, looking right and left across your body and face before shaking his own head lightly. “No, but—“

“Am I angry with you?” He then stares into your eyes, the pain in his own diminishing slightly when he sees that you don’t despise him. He shakes his head again, voice incredibly soft.

“No.”

You stand up, pacing in the middle of the small room before coming back to your two chairs, finding Anakin standing hesitantly next to his chair, arm upon its back. Looking up at him, you fidget with your hands as you talk. “Then why do you feel guilty?”

He looks between your eyes with an unreadable expression, looking down at the floor and then at you again. “I don’t know.”

“Try to think. You can tell me.” You’re staring at each other, practically whispering now. You place your hand on his chest softly, urging him to say what he’s thinking. Slowly, incredibly slow, he moves his hand from off the top of his chair, repositioning it hesitantly upon your cheek, ready to jerk it away if you tell him to.

But you don’t.

“I... I’ve had things in my past happen to the people that I care for.” He looks over your shoulder absentmindedly, his thumb moving in slow strokes on your cheek as he looks back with a strong intensity, voice low. “I don’t want that to happen to you.”

You glance at his hand, and then back at him, your mind whispering his name again and again as if that made him someone completely different now. Anakin.

You grab his hand on your cheek, holding it there, a smile barely tugging on the edges of your mouth as you speak. “People that you care for?”

His face is incredibly gentle, and the way he’s examining you and your reactions makes you feel warm inside, his voice raspy at this pitch. “Yes.”  

You tilt your face ever so slightly closer to him, now moving both of your hands to rest on his chest. His heartbeat is pounding so hard that you can feel it through his suit, and you glance down at your hand, staring at where his heart is before trailing back up to meet his gaze. Your breathing is erratic, nervous at the close contact. You smile gently at him, and he leans forward more, pausing with hesitation just close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of his face. 

He glimpses between your eyes and your lips, unmoving, uncertain to what you’re thinking. His nervousness is apparent and he doesn’t move forward anymore than he already has, to which you sigh, grabbing his collar and pulling him in closer to you, kissing him.

Your eyes flutter closed and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as if you were in an embrace. His other hand reaches up so that he’s cupping your face now, and you move one of your hands up to delicately scratch your nails along the bottom of his hairline. You feel him smirk into your mouth, causing you to roll your eyes. He’s still the same arrogant, sarcastic, rude son of a bitch that you’ve known since you were a youngling.

And yet, he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him back. And you’re enjoying it. Immensely.

That is, until the ship jolts itself to the right so hard that you almost fall to the ground, throwing the two of you away from each other. You grab onto a chair to balance yourself, seeing the bright lines and light of hyperspace begin to appear and disappear through the windshield, something in the hyperdrive malfunctioning and causing it to be faulty. Rapid successions of beeping begin from several different points on the console, and you and Anakin look at each other, panicked, before rushing to your seats and buckling up once again. He starts yelling for you to adjust some levers in front of you, and you breath heavily, anxiety filling you as you don’t know what’s going on.

Chapter Text

The Jedi teachings attempt to teach you to have the ability to calm down and meditate over any severe emotions that come across you, being able to tame any severe feelings down to a small simmer. Quite the helpful skill, as being in this line of work sets you on a path of infinite unknown adventures that could lead you to feeling any range of things.

Unfortunately, this lesson that they tried to teach you back when you were a rowdy youngling flew right over your head. And damn could you use that skill right about now. Should have paid attention in class, apparently. You dearly respect Master Yoda as an experienced Jedi master with an abundance of wisdom collected inside of his head after so many years alive, but sometimes his lectures could get… boring. Boring to the point of you drawing little scribbles on your holopad or pinching the skin of your thigh to keep yourself from falling asleep.

Your Master, knowing your lack of attention in certain areas of your childhood studies, has continued nagging throughout the many years of your relationship for you to practice meditation and learning tranquility, and you do practice.

Sometimes. 

Okay, rarely. Sometimes visiting a friend is more entertaining than sitting on your ass with your eyes closed for hours on end.

Really you’ve only tried to control your feelings when you wanted to punch Anakin right in his arrogant little face, so you’re quite a novice at calming yourself down in a stressful situation like this one. The situation in question being you and Anakin in a T-6 shuttle with a rapidly malfunctioning hyperdrive barrelling recklessly throughout space without a single clue as to how to stop it.

Anakin is yelling in your direction for you to adjust something important on the wall to your right, and you frantically twist your body around, looking at him and hovering your hand over a lever with a questioning look to make sure you’re grabbing the right thing before attempting to grasp it as soon as he affirms that you had the right lever with a harsh nod. The adrenaline pumping throughout your body at the rapid, sudden change in energy on the ship and your extremely quick switch to panic mode causes your hands to shake an embarrassing amount, and it takes two tries to grab a hold of the handle and shove it down.

The space through the window is changing itself right in front of you, dropping you suddenly into different places every few seconds before having you zoom through hyperspace to your next random destination again before you can even blink. All of this is paired with a croaking sound coming from the ship that definitely does not sound like it’s supposed to be happening. This is dangerous. One moment, you’re next to Andara, ship drifting a bit from your previous momentum of fucking gallivanting through space, then a second later the hyperdrive splutters once again and places you frighteningly close to the left of an asteroid belt, likely parsecs away from where you were before. You had never even heard of something like this ever happening in hyperspace. There was a high chance that you could crash right into something, as with no coordinates being placed into the nav comp and the hyperdrive deciding where to put you randomly, you were pretty much a sitting Porg with how much control you had over your movements. At the moment, you’re pretty much playing an intense game of hyperspace roulette.

“Sky— Anakin, what the fuck is going on?” You yell to him, body being jostled forward as the ship scrapes along the side of a piece of scrap metal that had been floating peacefully right before you smashed into it with no abandon.

“Something’s wrong with the hyperdrive!” He yells, quickly wetting his bottom lip with his tongue before attempting to use the steering to manipulate the ship away from a large trading vessel that had just appeared in front of you. Luckily for the two of you, you switch locations before you can crash into its side, ending up speeding through an empty area for a split second and having a brief moment of semi peace.

“Gee, really? I hadn’t fucking guessed!” You scream back, raising your hands in the air in mock surprise and slamming them back on your knees with a bit more force than intended. Anakin’s brow furrows annoyedly as he presses a few buttons below the dash, the beeping going away and letting the two of you panic in silence.

“Can you not be sarcastic right now?” The guttural croaking sound from before bangs itself off again, this time being much more alarming and loud. So loud that you wince at the noise, your shoulders practically lifting up to your ears as your body jumps.

“That better be a Bantha in the back of the ship—” you shoot at him as you run into sudden turbulence, and even with this he still has the ability to roll his eyes while piloting this shit show that you’re currently strapped into. The T-6 is being jostled around so much that it makes your teeth chatter before you end up darting next to Kinyen. “—Or else that’s the sound of our kriffing funeral chime.”

“Add not talking about our imminent deaths to your list of ‘things not to say when you’re hurtling at who knows how many parsecs an hour through space.’” He jerks the steering downwards, narrowly avoiding another asteroid before you’re hurtled into another unknown location again. “Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed…” You appear next to what’s apparently a pirate vessel, the occupants on board obviously being surprised at your sudden materialization and beginning to fire rapidly at you, to which Anakin decidedly spins you in circles to avoid any blasts. Unfortunately for both of you, you have nothing to stop this constant spinning since you need to continue avoiding being hit, so it continues on as you’re zapped into a new place. “…But flying is a bit difficult at the moment, and having you right here isn’t helping.” Ouch. How subtle.

Your head begins to spin along with the ship before Anakin finally has a chance to stop its rotation, your hands of their own accord having been bunched up along the arms of your seat in a feeble attempt to stabilize yourself against the rotation. Looking at him with a nauseated glare, your voice is scratchy to match the deadpan of your tone.

“You’re doing great.”

He huffs sardonically, his breath hitching in the middle of it as the ship emits a low groan and the two of you prepare for the next sudden switch of location. However, instead of some random new area being suddenly thrust upon you, the ship stays in hyperspace, continuing to surge forward through the infinite, interchangeable lines that zoom past you as you fly. Body still rigid and expecting the ship to show up in some other place, you wait for what seems like forever before letting yourself relax your muscles.

Anakin frowns in thought, trying to enter some coordinates into the nav comp and cautiously steer you out of there with absolutely nothing happening as a result. No matter which direction he moves the steering, the ship doesn’t budge, instead continuing its creaking, shaky path forward into the infinite path you’re on.

“Is this a good or bad thing?” You ask, running your hand through your hair and staring absentmindedly in front of you. The impossibly quick beams of light outside flicker on your faces through the glass, decorating the room with faint, dancing patches of color.

“How am I supposed to know?” He leans back in his chair, exhaling deeply and running his hands down the side of his face.

“I mean, you’re supposed to be a tech wiz, right? Work your magic.” He angles his head over to you lazily, giving you a cheeky grin at what you had thought was a normal sentence.

“Tech wiz?”

“Shut your mouth and go fix the ship.”

The grin never leaves his face as he unbuckles himself and saunters towards your seat, patting your shoulder. “I’ll go cast a few spells and see what’s going on.”

He sniggers to himself at your reaction as he walks through the small hallway and into the back of the ship with you glaring at him the entire time, the sound of him lifting one of the grates off of the floor being audible from where you’re sitting. Small clicking sounds of something tapping metal can also be heard coming from his direction, and you giggle to yourself at the mental image of him tinkering in the floor.

Your giggle is practically slapped away from your mouth as your mind decides to betray you without warning, a very different image of him glancing at your lips flashing across your vision that you are definitely not prepared for. This causes you to freeze in place in your seat with cheeks that are gaining color with an incredibly fast speed. The picture won’t leave your mind now, the entire occurrence that happened all of twenty minutes abruptly flooding back into your head holding no mercy for your very flushed face.

Stars, you kissed him? You kissed Anakin Skywalker? What were you thinking? The warmth of his body is practically still on your fingertips, and you clasp your hands together at the thought.

It was the adrenaline. That’s what it was. A heat of the moment, thoughtless action that would have happened no matter who was in the pilot’s seat next to you. Why would it not be? There’s no logical reason for any other conclusion. Your emotions were scattered after the whole interaction with Jackooff, and it seemed like Anakin’s (when did you start casually thinking his first name?) were too, so that’s what it was. Just a flurry of misplaced emotions. A stupid, whirlwind mistake.

A mistake.

Anakin’s voice calling your name from the other end of the ship rips you out of your dazed thinking, and you stretch your legs out to get rid of the ache they had from their previous position, standing up and stepping through the slim hallway to get to him. Just don’t think about the kiss. Don’t think about it. Everything is fine. You hate him. Don’t think about his lips. Stop it!

Jackooff’s carbonite-frozen body resting against the wall like an ironic decoration is the first thing that you spot before locating the hole in the floor that Anakin is inside of. Inching yourself towards the space that he’s doing maintenance in, you’re practically acting as if it was a Sarlacc pit. He pulls himself up slightly, crossing his arms on the floor and resting his chin on them, panting while looking up at you.

“Someone did this.”

Taken aback, you blink twice at him before shaking your head and plopping yourself onto the floor to be at eye level with him, crossing your legs to sit. “Did what?”

Taking a step back and gesturing to the tiny space next to him, Anakin waits expectantly for you to come and look at the problem. You swallow hard. Maker, why are you getting so anxious over standing next to him? He doesn’t seem to be nervous at all. Just… jump in there. No biggie.

Not looking at him, you shuffle around until you’re in front of the area with enough space to hold you and lower yourself in, holding your arms against your chest to steady your buzzing nerves. In front of you, there’s an abundance of random wires going in every which direction that are cut directly in their middle, a few sparks flying here and there from their tattered edges. Giant slash marks can be seen across multiple areas on the wall, and a lingering smell of something burning hits you when you take your first breath. Great. This is just great.

Anakin grabs your hand that had just about to have been going to trace over a bashed in area of a small switchboard, and you swear your heart stops for a second. “Don’t touch those.”

You instantly snatch your hand away from him and the switchboard, placing it gingerly at your side and flexing the fingers. “I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t just touch exposed wire.” You’re scowling before you can help it. Seems to be a natural reflex around him.

“I never said you were.” He looks at you with no hint of malice in his eyes, the space between the two of you making you want to scream and melt into a gory pile on the metallic floor below. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turns back towards the scene before you, looking it over once again. “Reiterating from earlier, someone did that.”

“Who do you think it was? Out of our obvious choices.” Grabbing onto the floor above you, you scramble to hook your foot onto any ledge of metal on the wall that you can find and hoist yourself out of the hole, wanting to get out of there as soon as you can.

“One of Jackooff’s guards, likely. I don’t think Tig has the brain mass to track down our ship.” He laughs lightly to himself, and you find the tips of your lips turning upwards.

“It was probably one of his goons. I don’t know how they would have found the ship, though,” you say, deciding to scooch yourself over a bit and lay down on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Resting your hands on your stomach, you trace the lines coming from the walls and onto the ceiling above you with your eyes. “Could have been a precaution on their part. Fuck up our ship in case we got away.”

“You can do anything with enough credits.” Anakin’s voice is bitter. Rightfully so, as he’s speaking of the corruption the galaxy’s facing right now. The senators and politicians that you often have to deal with are infuriating with their utter selfishness and uncaring attitudes towards the rest of the galaxy, and the both of you have always had trouble keeping your mouths shut around them. 

His hands appear along the edge of the open space and you see him jump out of the floor along with you, moving the grate back into its place and noticing you on the ground. He stares down at you, and you flick your eyes over to him and back to the roof again, heart rate going faster than it did before. Stop doing that.

“What are you staring for?” Your voice cracks in the middle of your last word, making you want to cringe.

“Can’t say.” He joins you on the floor, hands placed on his upright knees and moving his back against the wall, closing his eyes. You cock an eyebrow at him for giving such a vague answer even though he can’t see it.

“I’m exhausted.” He’s quiet but still surprises you, his tired tone seeping out due to his comfortable position.

Joining him in the bliss of closing his eyes, the floor seems more comfortable than it ever has before beneath your back. “You and me both.”

Your breathing evens out along with your thoughts, the panic from earlier slowly seeping out of you and being replaced with a soft warmth that’s trying to whisk you away into sleep, but you shouldn’t be getting relaxed right now. Even though you’d love to sleep at this moment, there’s things to do. Things to worry about. Both you and Anakin know that, but the temptation of putting things off is too strong to push away.

Sighing, you peel your eyes open and sit up, slouching into your lap out of the want to not have to sit up. Anakin’s head is tilted down at the grate, his middle and index finger tapping on his knee.

“What are you thinking about?” Your voice comes out softer than you would have expected, and he looks in your direction, sliding his legs downward so that they lay flat against the floor.

“If we should call the Council or not and tell them what’s going on. Or if we’ll even be able to call the Council with what’s happening with our ship.” He stares down at his hand. “What they’ll say when they find out how we messed something else up.” The nervous anticipation is easy to sense in his signature, so much so that it worries you.

“It’s not our fault some nerf herder put a knife to our hyperdrive. It’ll be fine.” He nods to signify that he agrees with you, but still seems doubtful. “We can think about that later. Let’s just not worry about things for a sec.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence once again, procrastinating having to deal with the entire mess that you’ve been placed in and not thinking about your predicament or repercussions for things for what seems like the first time in eons. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Anakin open his mouth as if he wants to say something, shutting it again quickly afterwards.

He mulls over something for a beat before he pushes himself off of the wall, adjusting his shoulders and moving to be a bit closer to you, his features gentle. He opens his mouth once before closing it, pondering for a second once again before opening his mouth to actually speak out loud this time.  “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

“Can we talk about earli—“

A deep, jarring groan reverberates throughout the ship, floating its noise in from outside and rumbling straight into your bones so forcefully that you swear you can hear them clatter and rattle around inside of your body. You and Skywalker exchange alarmed looks, skittering onto your feet and running towards the front of the ship, almost tripping and falling flat on your face in the process. Outside, the vision of you floating indefinitely in hyperspace is still the same as it had been as before, with one astonishingly large exception.

To the left of the T-6, a light blue and purple whale swims alongside you, sporting an emotion in your direction with its eyes that you could swear was annoyance. It opens its mouth partially and wails out another noise, this one being so loud that a few loose buttons on the dash shake from the vibration. Mouth falling open in utter surprise, you stand still, not knowing what to do in this scenario. Anakin seems frozen in place too, staring in awe at the Purrgil in front of you that the two of you had only ever heard stories about. By word of mouth, you’d heard of a Jedi or two that had been able to communicate with this species, as they’re semi-sentient, but something tells you that this one doesn’t want to talk to you.

The Purrgil moves a little to the left, seeming as if it’s going to jump out of the hyperspace stream and leave your ship to be in peace before it comes back in your direction at full force, slamming its side against your ship and causing you and Anakin to be shoved against the wall behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as the ship leans haphazardly for a second before going back to its previous position, the Purrgil seemingly angry that you weren’t out of its way already.

“What’s a Purrgil doing out of its swarm?” You ask breathlessly to Anakin, moving your head in his direction.

“Maybe it got separated? They’re usually not known to be this aggressive.” His eyes are glued on the whale traveling alongside you, hands braced behind him.

“Well what the kriff are we supposed to do? It’s not like we can leave hyperspace right now.” An angry moan comes from the whale for the third time, and it swims even further to the left to prepare itself to hit you once again. You and Anakin gasp in unison at this, snatching yourselves from off of the wall and moving into your seats so that you won’t be thrown around again. With an echoing bellow, the Purrgil collides with your ship, making the metal of the vessel shudder with an ominous scraping sound following its attack. The cockpit glows red with emergency lighting signifying that something important has been damaged, and Anakin attempts to run a quick diagnostic that fails due to the screen ultimately shutting off to black, powering off completely. That’s probably not a good sign.

Reaching under the dash, you feel around for the handle to open the storage unit underneath on your side and grasp your holo projector, frantically trying to turn it on and dial one of the Council members or even someone that you know, but only get static. Of course it’s glitching out right now.

“Try… Try communicating with it, maybe? I’m probably way too frantic to try and talk with it right now.” You suggest to Anakin, to which he cracks his knuckles and closes his eyes, obviously focusing in on the Purrgil to see what it has to project. He stays like this for a few seconds before there’s a loud howl from outside that causes you to practically jump in your seat, and Anakin’s eyes pop open with surprise written all over them.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t very polite?” You lean in, waiting for his answer.

“You could say that.”

The Purrgil bares its teeth towards you, its several tails flicking back and forth like an angry Tooka’s. This whale was damn angry. “I think this son of a bitch has a vendetta against us.”

Anakin snorts, fingers pinching the fabric of his robe in a nervous gesture. “What makes you say that?”

You smirk, deciding on a whim that it’s your turn to try and deal with the Purrgil, angry or not. “I guess I’ll try.”

Zeroing in on its Force signature and closing your eyes, you lightly poke and prod at its display of red fury being directed at you, trying to wash over it with a technique of calm serenity that you learned from your Master. 

The response you receive in return is an image of the whale with its swarm, swimming languidly throughout hyperspace and humming to each other as a ship approaches them. The ship being a light blue color similar to their own skin, the Purrgil try to speak and bond with it, bumping into the ship playfully but having a result that was less than ideal. The ship lowers down two guns on either of its sides, angling itself towards the swarm and shooting at the Purrgil and his family. He shrieks at seeing his friends being killed and dives into a separate area of hyperspace, expecting his brethren to follow him, but they don’t. They’re not able to, because they’re gone; the whale is suddenly left without his friends or family due to a ship needlessly attacking them, and that’s when he stumbled upon you and Anakin.

The Purrgil pushes you out of his mind with a harsh shove that causes you to gasp as you open your eyes, whipping your face towards Anakin. “We’re screwed. Totally screwed. To Kamino and back we’re screw—“

“Elaborate!” The irritation in his voice makes you want to throttle him.

“There’s no way he won’t kill us.”

“What? Why?”

“His entire swarm was just massacred by a random ship. He’s trying to get revenge.”

Anakin slumps in his seat, body language matching how you feel internally about the Purrgil’s thoughts. It continues to angrily swim next to you, its Force signature not hiding a single emotion now.

“You know what, I think he’s tired himself out,” you say, smiling weakly at the dire circumstances. Anakin gives you a halfhearted one back, shaking his head to the answer that you both already know as the Purrgil whines in annoyance once again, storming away before you see it rushing back towards you. As you’re about to squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, you spot Anakin staring at your face, a warm expression making itself shown on his countenance. Deciding against enclosing yourself in darkness, you set your eyes right back on Anakin, not breaking his gaze with an intensity you didn’t know you had. Not wanting to sit in silence for what could likely be your last moments, you end up blurting out whatever you can think of due to anxiety. 

“You ever gonna pay me back for the food I bought you on Hosnian Prime?”

He chuckles lightly even in this situation, turning his head from side to side. “Are you going to force me to dance again?”

Inhaling softly, a smile pushes its way onto your mouth again before you can stop it. “You were a good partner."

The Purrgil shrieks, smashing into you as a deafening boom rolls itself deep into your eardrums. The ship is ripped out of hyperspace with intense force, spinning in a frenzy into the black depths outside. You’re screaming before you can even control it, your senses being overloaded with the singular, overbearing feeling of your stomach being pulled up and through your mouth as you hurtle towards the unknown.

It’s hard to tell if you black out or if your mind is in too much of a panic to let you recognize anything that’s going on except for the sensation of gravity pulling at you from all sides. The whoosh of speed collecting against the ship adds an even more ominous feeling to the crash, and the whistling outside becomes louder as a light appears to shine on your closed eyes. Cracking them open, you see what looks to be the beginnings of a planet’s exosphere, the colors of an intense sunset making a shining gradient across the sky. Eyes widening in surprise, you catch a glimpse of green land below you as you spin just before the ship collides with something hard, jerking your body forward against your seat straps and causing you to smack your head back against the seat, the world going black.

Chapter Text

A loud banging echoes across the ship and you jump awake, pupils dilated and heart beating a parsec a minute with the pure effects of fight or flight response making themself known throughout your now conscious mind. Not acknowledging your actual surroundings and instead surveying left and right to see if any danger was near, you’re finally able to blink hard and take in what’s around you when you find that you’re not about to be stabbed, maimed, or worse.

This lets you move your eyes to the windshield in front of you that’s sporting intricate, web-like splinters etched across the glass as a woman with large goggles that make her eyes look huge is outside and banging against it with a large stick, the pane heaving with every slam against its surface and adding more cracks to itself. The rest of her isn’t visible to you due to the distortion of the world outside from the cracks in the glass, so the menacing color scheme of her body looming over you is the only view that you have of her.

Struggling with unlatching your seatbelt, you look to your left and find Anakin still unconscious, body leaned against his seat with a small sliver of blood running from his hairline and down his cheek. Cursing to yourself at your frustratingly shaky hands, you finally manage to unclasp your seatbelt and lean over to grab your lightsaber from your boot just as the mysterious woman banging on your windshield swings at the glass one more time, shattering it to tiny pieces all over the dash and the floor. You leap over to Anakin who was still knocked out in his chair and stand beside him defensively, unbuckling his seatbelt in case you need to drag him out of there. Ignoring the heat that courses through your face at fumbling around with the belt near his waist, you activate your saber and get into a fighting stance in case whoever this woman was had violence in mind.

She looks at you for a second curiously before she spots your saber, her four eyes widening in surprise as she takes a tiny step backwards. Something about her seems familiar. Nothing in her body language gives away any sign of her wanting to hurt either you or Anakin, though body language can’t always be trusted, and you can feel a sense of bewilderment floating towards you from her Force signature of all things, interestingly enough.

Language? A scratchy, enthusiastic voice echoes inside of your head, repeating the question in several other languages to try and learn which of them you speak. Now it’s your turn to be surprised this time.

“I speak Basic if you do,” you say out loud, turning off your saber but keeping it clutched in hand just in case.

“You’re a Jedi?” The girl in front of you asks excitedly, nodding to your saber and crawling through the broken windshield and into the room.

“In the flesh.” She giggles at this, coming to a stop to stand right in front of you. Man was she tall. Grabbing a hold of her goggles, she lifts them up and places them atop her bald head, grinning at you.

Her skin was a light green, its texture seeming rough from what you could make of it. She had four legs, two standing as you were and the other pair being behind the first, stretching out and bending in the middle before reaching the floor like a frog’s. The other pair were long and strong. You could see the definition in her hind leg muscles twitch as she stood. Both pairs of her eyes were framed in thick, black eyeliner and were a dark green with a white pupil, the mouth below them being placed directly at the bottom of her square-jawed face. She had a pack sling around one of her shoulders that she was now tucking her wooden club back into, and wore a vest with a netting shirt underneath that ran along her arms and middle. She also wore shorts lined with an absurd amount of jam packed pockets. Where had you seen her before?

“We’ve never gotten Jedi here before,” she says, skittering forward towards Anakin. You flinch your saber wielding hand at her sudden movement, ready to put an end to her actions if she’s trying to hurt him, but she instead picks up his arm, checking his pulse before lightly lifting up the hair above his blood trail to check on his wound. “Much less two injured ones.”

Were you hurt? You don’t feel hurt. Then again, you were in shock no more than three minutes ago, so your brain probably wouldn’t have registered any injuries by now.

Looking down at your body, nothing seems to be bleeding and nothing is turned in a way that it shouldn’t be, which is a good sign. Feeling your head, you’re surprised to find that there’s a light damp patch along your hair that comes back red on your fingers when you look at your hand, even though you still don’t feel it. Apparently, you’re hurt.

“Where are we, exactly?” You say, tucking your saber back into your boot. All that you could see outside was the top of a tree canopy with a few dark holes leading down to a shadowed, unfamiliar forest floor and the picturesque sunset, the planet’s sun setting and three close together moons taking its place, all in different phases. The girl reaches into her pack with her incredibly muscular arm, sticking out her dark green tongue in intense concentration as she attempts to heave out a first aid kid from its depths, struggling for a few seconds before finally pulling the box up and out of the bag.

“Solsko. Lucky you landed here and not in one of the active zones.” Opening the kit, she grabs some astringent, a cloth wipe and a bacta pad and begins to pour the astringent into the cloth, soaking it with vigour. “Oh, I’m Zarl’a, by the way.” She reaches one of her back legs towards you to shake your hand while she works. You shake it, wanting to laugh at the scene while you remember why she seems familiar now. She’s a Solskian.

A couple years back you were assigned to do a research project about any planet that you chose using the Archives. Not wanting to choose a boring planet, you scrolled through lists upon lists of planets until you ran across Solsko. The planet had been at war for at least seven years, the gist of its origin being something about the son of a prime minister choking on his food during a banquet at a man of the opposing political party’s house. The men of the planet took one side or the other of the two politicians who began heatedly arguing with each other, and all chaos broke loose.

The women, however, didn’t see the point in starting a war and thought the men to be stupid and ignorant, deciding to head to the right side of the planet and set up shop there while the men killed each other on the left with no abandon. Solsko used to have a thriving tourism based economy before the war started, but it plummeted as soon as violence started to happen on the planet. Every Solskian individual had at least some sort of Force sensitivity, so it’s only natural that the Zarl’a would be able to speak with you through the Force’s energy.

After going through all of this information way back when, you decided to do your project about how terribly fucking stupid the men of the planet were, turning it in with a proud smile and receiving a severe scolding by Master Kcaj for doing so, the rubric of the project changing to being assigned a planet because of the chaos that you had turned in. Totally worth it.

“I don’t know if landed is the right word in this situation,” you retort, leaning carefully over the shattered glass on the dash to stare up into the ombré sky and noticing the dark plumes of smoke rising from your ship. She hums in agreement, carefully dabbing along the cut on Skywalker’s head. He winces slightly, eyes cracking open with a dazed expression before flinching harshly into his chair at seeing a person so close next to him just after he woke up.

“Who— Ow!” His questioning is interrupted by Zarl’a putting the bacta pad on his cut and forcing the wrinkles out with her fingers while it’s on before she steps away, smiling lopsidedly.

“Sorry about that. I’m a Sheriff, not a medic.” She points with a hint of pride to a small circular pin on her vest that you hadn’t noticed before that boasts lettering of her own language, likely telling you what her job position was.

“You’re a Sheriff?” You ask, entirely bewildered as her casual demeanor didn’t give it away for a second.

“Community elected. It’s really only because I punched a Molk that was wreaking havoc in our camp right in the face and it ran away.” She looks upwards at her goggles and attempts to adjust them again, moving them higher on her head. “Everyone else sent me up here in case you guys were crazy murderers or dead or something.” Anakin looks bewildered at this, and you roll your eyes at him with no real annoyance behind the gesture.

“We’re on Solsko, it’s all good.” He exhales, the tension in his body visibly lessening. You step over to his seat, giving him a quick once over for any other injuries besides the cut along his head and finding none before grinning at him. “That Purrgil really sucks at killing people, huh?”

“He mastered giving me a headache, though,” Anakin responds, massaging the uninjured side of his temple as Zarl’a approaches you while taking out a second, different cloth pad.

“A Purrgil tried to kill you?” She asks, obviously intrigued. She starts pouring the astringent on the cloth again before pressing it against the cut on your head. Now you can feel the pain. It shoots through you and you have to clench your toes so that you don’t try and run away from her instinctively.

“Slammed against us in hyper— Maker. Sorry— Slammed against us in hyperspace.” She places the bacta pad on your head, the stickiness feeling uncomfortably foreign in your hair. You’re not worried about it pulling out your hair, as bacta pads are designed to not do so, but are more so worried about looking like a complete idiot with it plastered on your head like that. Oh well.

“People are so horrible to Purrgil nowadays, it’s not surprising they’re starting to get angry with us.” She responds, adjusting the strap of her bag before hopping through the broken windshield and onto the top of the tree that your ship is balanced on, its upper leaves being sturdy enough to take her weight. Neither you or Anakin do anything, wits still not caught up with you just yet so soon after waking up. Zarl’a huffs in amusement, leaning her arm against the ship while motioning you out with her hand. “You coming?”

Taking a breath, you crawl out of the front with much more difficulty than her, slipping once on the dash before regaining your balance. Anakin moves himself behind you and follows suit, grunting as he accidentally knocks his head against the edge of the windshield. You laugh to yourself at the resounding scowl that plasters itself across Anakin’s face when the three of you are out of the ship, and Zarl’a looks over the edge of the tree, cupping her hands to amplify her voice.

“We’re coming down, girls!” She yells, taking a step towards you and gesturing for you to come closer. Taking a peek at Anakin and seeing him raising his eyebrows curiously, you inch forward to Zarl’a and she scoops you up with ease, adjusting her grip on you to make it more firm. “Hold on.”

Gripping you tightly to her torso, she uses her back legs to jump high into the air and out of the tree, soaring into the sky where time seems to freeze for a split second before falling down like a blaster bolt towards the ground. Your breath is sucked out of you as it feels like every one of your organs is rearranged from falling so fast, and you clutch your arms around Zarl’a’s neck for dear life. When you land, her legs take the blow and she releases you to the crowd of other Solskian women on the ground before jumping back up into the sky to fetch Anakin.

The women instantly start trying to talk to you, excitement shown across all of their faces as you try to regain some form of composure. If that’s even possible when the wind swept look on your face probably betrays you.

“Where are you from?” One of them says, cocking her head towards you.

“How’d you crash?” Another girl points upwards to your ship, as if you’d forgotten where it was.

“Are you hungry?” Yet another reaches into her knapsack and pulls out a hot pink fruit that you hadn’t seen before, holding it close to your face and beckoning you to take it.

“Where’s your dress from?”

“What’s your name?”

You try to answer all of their questions in order, though you keep on forgetting which to answer first because they keep on asking new ones. Taking the fruit from the one girl’s outstretched hand, you give her a small smile before biting into it, an incredibly sour flavor rocketing from its juice making you gasp and pucker your lips. The girls all giggle at your reaction, revealing to you that none of them even eat the fruit and that they always gave it to tourists when they first arrived for a good laugh.

Anakin’s terrified howling on his own way down with Zarl’a interrupts their hefty barrage of questioning, you and the group stopping to watch the pair quickly plummet to the ground. Seeing Anakin huddled up bridal style in Zarl’a’s arms makes you snort loudly right as she lands with a thud against the leaf ridden forest floor, and Anakin stumbles out of her grasp and stumbles to his own feet, running a hand through his hair and inhaling deeply. The women around you cackle at him, and he flushes a deep red, looking at them and then down at his shoes.

Zarl’a smacks her hands together as if to brush off dust, walking over to the group and forming a huddle, pointing to the two of you with her hands before giving them an excited look. None of them are speaking, but you suspect that they’re doing so in each other’s heads because one of them pops their head up to look at you and Anakin before going back in to listen to what Zarl’a was saying. Every girl’s signature is buzzing with enthusiasm.

“You were pretty composed back there,” you say to Anakin, patting him on the shoulder and grinning from ear to ear. He glares at you before kicking at the dirt and leaves beneath his feet, a small cloud of dirt floating in the air before settling back on the ground once more.

“Coming from you, I’m going to take more offense to that than normal.” Smirking, you step away and go to examine the bark of a thick nearby tree trunk, the wood smelling strangely of chocolate.

Zarl’a suddenly claps her hands together and the girls all begin to remove themselves from the huddle at the same time, rushing out to speak to you and Anakin about background information that their friend had just bestowed to them about you.

“I can’t believe you’re Jedi!” A girl with baggy, light brown clothes and a jeweled pendant necklace on says to you. Everyone nods fervently in agreement with her, their back legs bouncing with eager gusto as they speak.

“First tourists in ages and they’re Jedi Knights? We lucked out on this one, girls.” Another girl wearing an orange leather jacket and tight brown pants says, putting her arm around a girl next to her’s shoulders and pulling her in close.

“Why are you dressed like that if you’re Jedi?” A shorter girl in almost black hues says, her arms crossed together at her front. “Were you guys on a date or something?”

Anakin has a sudden, violent coughing fit to your left, and your mouth opens and closes at this question, tongue suddenly dry and feeling like sand. Zarl’a smacks the girl's arm harshly with her hand, widening her eyes at her in warning. The girl looks at Zarl’a, confused, before Zarl’a obviously says something to her though the Force that explains something to her. She bursts out laughing, looking at the two of you while doing so and clutching her stomach. 

You want to become a leaf on the ground and disintegrate as the seasons pass by.

You have the answer to her question, so why are you getting so worked up over it? She’s being logical. Two people wearing fancy clothes would probably be on a date with each other, not on a mission. No reason to get flustered. Just tell her that you were on a mission.

It’s not like you’d want to go on a date with Anakin. You wouldn’t. That would be terrible. He’s… Fuck, why can’t you think of something negative about him? Maker, now you’ve waited too long to say something, and Anakin has, too.

The other girls are all hurriedly whispering to each other, trying to decide what to show or do with their newfound visitors first, obviously blowing over your lack of an answer already in favor of doing something more exciting. “Should we give them a tour? Or— No, let’s show them the vines…”

They all rush closer to the two of you, and you and Anakin trade overwhelmed glances with each other. You mouth help to him and he sniggers to himself, clearing his throat afterwards and turning back towards the hoard of girls in front of you.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but we don’t get too many visitors here anymore,” Zarl’a says sarcastically, pushing to the front of the group and motioning to the lack of any other people besides the girls in the space around you.

The giant trees surrounding you and continuing on into the distance house elaborate treehouses, built around the middle of their trunks and wrapping around them with no stairs leading to the buildings. Wooden paths lit with tall lanterns between the houses spread everywhere, connecting every tree structure with each other and creating an entirely different canopy above you. Vines and flowers wrap around the houses, adorning them softly with their color and patterning, every house or structure having a different color or type of flower decorating them. Evidently, they had been busy while the war was going on.

“Welcome to ‘Verdant Valley,’” Zarl’a announces, projecting her voice to sound like a radio announcer while saying the name. Putting her hand on the side of her face and leaning in as if she’s going to tell you and Anakin a secret, she grins at you. “It’s not actually a valley, but we thought the name sounded good, so.”

The other girls giggle and push her around for a moment before looking at each other and jerking their long thumbs towards the space behind them, murmuring in agreement before turning around towards the houses, waving at you and Anakin to follow them. They walk as a group in the direction of a small, bright yellow bonfire in the center of some stone benches, rocks, and small, carved tables that have tiny collections of tree needles and leaves resting on their surface. The sun had now gone down so much that it was dusk, the lanterns on the bridges and walls shining brightly far above your head and illuminating the trees on top of you. Moonlight shines dimly from the three moons through the tree canopy, and when you take a glance at Anakin walking along next to you, it illuminates his face in a dream-like, captivating hue.

You rip your head away from his direction, eyes staring forward at the back of one of the girls’ heads and chewing on your cheek, scolding yourself for continuing to not want to punch Anakin in the guts. Maybe you should sucker punch him. Might make you feel better.

Your group reaches the bonfire, the chocolatey smell from before being even stronger now that the wood is burning and releasing its scent to the open air around you. The girls all scatter around the fire, finding seats that they’re obviously familiar with while two of them head into a small cottage made from sod and grass with colorful flying bugs swirling around the multiple tall flowers stemming from its walls and a smoking chimney.

You and Anakin stand awkwardly, not knowing where to sit, when Zarl’a pauses her seemingly flirty conversation with the girl wearing the leather jacket that looks quite enamored with her and was sitting on a small boulder, walking over to you and waving her hand nonchalantly. “Sit wherever you want.”

Somehow, this makes you even more nervous. There were three areas around the fire with two seats open, Solskian girls laughing with each other on either side. You head over to an available seat on a small bench that’s across the fire from where you are, and Anakin begins to follow behind you to sit next to you. No. No.

“Zarl’a!” You exclaim nervously, your voice sounding oddly unlike your own as you shout to her over the light buzz of conversation surrounding you. She turns around from listening to two girls in front of her to smile at you. “Care for sitting next to me?”

She whispers something to the girls before heading in your direction with a grin. “I would definitely care.” Sitting down, she leans her elbow on her knee, thinking for a beat. “Did I say that correctly? Basic is hard sometimes.”

You giggle at her, shrugging your shoulders and noticing Anakin frozen by the fire, watching you, before turning his head slowly and sitting at another end of the circle. “I’m definitely not the person to ask.”

She opens her mouth to say something back when one of the girls working emerges from the grass cottage, her hands cupping around her mouth. “Food’s ready!”

Getting up with an eager hop, Zarl’a jerks her finger towards the girls heading over to the cottage. “We stand single file and wait for our food. Hope you like Molk.”

Getting up and walking behind her, you get into the line, Anakin a little ways ahead of you, and you have a partial view of the two girls who had gone inside earlier dishing out equal portions to everyone. An army of different, uniquely decorated aprons lined the inner walls, two missing from the formation behind the stone counter and wrapped around the girls’ clothes. Noticing you staring inside, Zarl’a pokes you with her finger playfully, peeking through the door as well.

“Everyone takes shifts for cooking duty. Decorates their own apron.” Nodding in acknowledgement of her answer to your unspoken question, you pull your skirt a little lower, it deciding to ride up your ass and be incredibly uncomfortable.

Suddenly remembering yourself, you frantically pat your body down, looking for the credits that you now remember are left back in your robes on the ship. “How much should I pay for this?”

Chuckling to herself, Zarl’a itches her arm. “Don’t worry about that; I doubt a few extra credits would do anything for us. We’ve learned to adapt without them.”

Letting your hands fall to your sides, you don’t say anything further on the topic. Zarl’a pokes you again absentmindedly, moving her head around and squinting her eyes to see who’s inside of the small cottage. “You lucked out today, you know. Marge and Josiquinn are on cooking duty tonight. My cooking is terrible.” She giggles to herself and you peel your eyes away from Anakin that you hadn’t noticed had been on him before, chuckling along with her.

“How bad out of ten?”

“Like someone took a piping hot shit in a bowl and served it to you. So… ten.” You snort before you can stop yourself, putting a hand over your mouth to stifle the noise.

Zarl’a is guffawing next to you at her own words without a care in the world, the line quickly moving up as more girls are served their food. You check ahead of the line to see how many people are ahead, and catch Anakin’s eyes glancing at you for a second. The palm over your mouth hides the small gasp that leaves you at the sight.

You drop your hand and notice that Zarl’a had now started talking to the enamored girl from earlier and take another step forward, pretending to not see Anakin as he passes by you with his food. His steps slow near you and you swear you shit yourself right then and there, but then you hear him talking to the girl with the pendant necklace from earlier, going to sit in his previous spot by the fire, and relax yourself. You’re being an idiot. He was getting his food, not cupping your face in his hands or something like that.

Wait, no. Bad example. Bad example. He was just getting his food.

Brushing your train of thought away, you smile knowingly at Zarl’a and the girl that she’s deeply in conversation with, peering left and right to appreciate the scenery around you. You’d need to write Solsko down in your list of different planets you've visited in your journal when you get back to the Temple.

Shit. Speaking of the Temple, you and Anakin need to tell them where you are. Your Holo Projector is still underneath the dash, right? Yeah… yeah, it is. So after dinner you need to call the Council and tell them about your whole predicament.

Or maybe tomorrow. A night off would be really nice right about now.

You reach the front of the line and grab a small, sanded wooden plate from a pile on the counter and hold it out for either Marge or Josiquinn to give you your food. They slap on a small pile of meat paired with a few edible flowers, giving you a seperate sanded wooden cup filled with water. Thanking them quietly, you turn around with Zarl’a receiving her food after you and head back to where you had been sitting, taking a seat and beginning to take small bites of your food with your fingers, staring at the fire in thought. At least you know that the Holo Projector will definitely work now since you’re on a planet. It’s settled. You’ll call the Council first thing tomorrow.

With your contemplation being over, you continue to stare at the dark blue embers and flaming licks of the fire in front of you, the flames warming you comfortably as you slowly eat your food. Eventually you get bored of the fire, deciding to instead scan over the different women and houses around you. One of the houses has a small hammock hanging beneath it with some incredibly sturdy netting high above the ground, and you have the strong urge to go and lie down in it, staring down at the world from above.

Slowly turning your head to gaze at something different, you finally snap your eyes into the direction that your head is facing, directly across the fire, to find Anakin making direct eye contact with you, taking a long sip of his water and peering towards you over its rim. You swallow hard, setting the piece of meat that was in your hand back down on the plate and looking back at him in retaliation, tilting your head towards him to try and seem casual, and he smiles, placing his plate on his knee and settling his face into his hands, continuing to stare back at you. The fire flickers between the two of you, its aura being strangely whimsical, before you snap your head to the left in the direction of a finger that had been tapping your shoulder.

“Hey, you want seconds? We always make a little extra.” She leans on the edge of her bench while holding her empty plate, ready to get up.

Still looking back at Anakin, you turn your face towards her, finally moving your eyes to look at her face to answer her question. “I’m good, thanks.”

She nods in acknowledgment, standing up to grab some seconds for herself. At the last second though, you hurriedly spring out of your seat, placing your plate on the side of your bench, to tap on her shoulder. She shifts towards you, leg still outstretched to head towards the cottage.

“What is it? Change your mind?” She asks, placing a hand on her waist.

“No, I—“ You wet your bottom lip with your tongue. “Do you happen to have a spare room that I could stay in?”

She huffs in amusement, motioning her hand wildly to the bunches of houses above your heads. “We’ve had spare rooms for years, newbie. Take your pick.”

She walks off to get more food, leaving you to sit down once more, holding your face in your hands and sighing. Kriff, you need to get away from him. You don’t even know if Anakin is even still in his seat because you haven’t checked to see, but it sure as shit feels like he is. His presence lingers even when he’s long gone. You learned that the hard way after so many interactions with him at the Temple.

Then again, a lingering feeling deep inside of you is whispering that you might be growing fond of that presence. Just a little bit.

Chapter Text

When Zarl’a had trotted off to grab another helping of her food, you were left sitting stiffly in the midst of all of the conversations occurring around you, a wave of mental exhaustion washing over you and making you sigh quietly beneath the din. Anakin’s presence was still formidably present and you continue to steadfastly ignore him, picking up your now empty plate and cup and stepping through the perimeter of people sitting around the bonfire.

The wall of noise that had been engulfing you entirely now fades behind your back as you head over to the small kitchen-cottage from earlier, exchanging a small smile with Zarl’a as you pass by her on your separate ways. She goes to sit in a different place than she had earlier, easily plopping herself into a conversation that a few girls had been having.

Tripping over a small rock and calling the poor thing a few words that the Council would be absolutely ashamed of you for, you continue on your way into the kitchen, spotting one of the girls who had been cooking earlier now instead vigorously cleaning off the countertops and wiping down some of the materials that had been used to make dinner.

“Dishes?” She asks, motioning you towards her with her long finger after you nod in response. The name on her personalized apron that boasts a drawing of Solsko’s gorgeous sky reads Josiquinn. “Give ‘em here.”

You gently place the two items in her hands, to which she snatches them away, dropping them in the deep sink and scrubbing away for a few seconds. Once the grime is off and she gives the both of them a splash of water to rinse off any extra soap, she puts them on a dish rack that’s settled on an embroidered floral themed towel. Hey, she lives here, right? Maybe she could show you to your room instead of you having to return to the bonfire and just waiting for someone to say that they’ll help you out.

Noticing that you hadn’t already left, Josiquinn slings a rag that she had been using to dry off her hands over her shoulder, leaning on the counter in your direction. “Need anything else?”

You nod, affirming her question. “Zarl’a had said earlier that I could, well…” How do you say this without sounding like a snob? “That I could choose a room to sleep in.” You say, twiddling your fingers in front of you.

“Sure, we‘ve got plenty to go around. What of it?”

You turn around, glancing out of the open doorway at the trees once again. “…How exactly would I get up there?”

Josiquinn snickers to herself, walking around the counter and leaning against the doorframe towards the trees. “Yeah, I forgot that tourists can’t just jump up there like us.” She points comedically towards her hind legs with a grin. “It’s been a while since someone who wasn’t Solskian has been here.”

“I mean, I could try to heave myself up there, but I don’t think that would end well,” you say, smirking back at her. Your eyes trail themselves over to the general vicinity of the bonfire that Anakin’s still sitting at, and you mentally scold yourself. Bad. Stop it.

Josiquinn points her finger towards the trunk of the tree nearest you, and your gaze follows. “See that little outline in the trunk there? Towards the bottom?”

“What is it?” There’s a faint oval etched into the bark from what you can see from where you’re standing.

“I’ll have to get Lisha to find the keys somewhere, but it’s a door to a kind of shitty elevator we built inside. Gets you right up to the top in no time.” She does a zooming motion with her hand.

Your lift your brow in surprise as she mentions its structural integrity, eyeing her from the side. “Shitty? Trying to kill me, now?”

She giggles, shaking her head. “The elevators are only janky because they haven’t been used in a while.” She taps her index finger against her chin in thought. “Mind you, you might be tossed around a bit, but it’ll be fine.”

“Thanks. Now I feel totally reassured.” She scowls playfully at you, huffing before checking over her shoulder at the rest of the dishes, waving them off with her hand.

“Eh, I’ll get Marge to finish them. I did most of the cooking today, anyway. She can’t complain.” She says, untying her apron with skilled fingers and quickly stepping back into the kitchen to hang it on her designated hook. The rag on her shoulder is also grabbed, and she attempts to throw it onto the counter but misses. Not caring one bit about missing the counter, she cracks her back after hanging the apron up, sighing in satisfaction and heading through and out of the door. “Come on, now. Let’s get you up to your room. Which one do you want?”

You survey the area for a second, noticing that some of the houses have a tree running right through the middle of them while others have their tree off to the side. Spotting the one with the hammock beneath it, you perk up. “That one would be nice, if it’s available.” You point in its direction to give her an extra signal of where you’re thinking of.

“You don’t have to be polite like that, you know. Like I said, all of them are. This isn’t really vacation central anymore.” Her voice has some noticeable bitterness during the last part of her remark. “Stupid nerf herders. The men of my species are such idiots, in case you didn’t know.”

“That’s something we have in common.” Josiquinn stares at you with a mischievous glint to her eyes, moving her head in the direction of the fire.

“Your partner over there doesn’t seem to be dumb to me.” She looks back at you with an amused expression, eyeing your face’s reactions.

Anakin’s silhouette is outlined by the fire, and you can see him laughing off in the distance. “Well, I guess he’s not. He just doesn’t think things through sometimes, is all.” The smile that you can see on his face even from here makes your heart skip a beat. “He can actually be pretty smart at times. He has this really cool talent for anything tech related, actually. I always tell him that he’s a big old nerd whenever I see him tinkering with something, but it’s really pretty interesting—“

Josiquinn shakes her head with a smile, stopping you in your rambling tracks and causing your face to heat up as you look at the ground. Note to self: try to attempt being subtle about what you’re thinking, for at least once in your damn life.

“You done?” She asks, standing with her arms crossed and continuing to smirk. You nod and grumble incoherently under your breath as she jerks her hand towards the tree, taking a step in its direction and letting out another amused noise. “Come on, korsha. Let’s get you to your room.”

You follow behind her, having to jog a bit to keep up with her long legs. “What does ‘korsha’ mean?” You understand at least partially quite a few different languages, as per Order regulations, but had never learned Solskian.

She chuckles lightly, holding her forearm out as she walks and letting a neon pink butterfly land and rest itself on it, the butterfly’s wings opening and closing in a calm manner while it takes its break from flying. “Bantha fodder.” She says, tongue in cheek.

You cock your eyebrow behind her, now fully jogging as she picks up her pace. “What’s your reasoning behind calling me a piece of shit?” 

She looks at you over her shoulder, grinning enough to expose her sharp, gleaming teeth. The butterfly launches itself off of her arm and heads behind the both of you in the direction of the cottage, likely joining its friends in a feeding frenzy of the gorgeous flowers that surround it. “That’s not actually what it means, Jedi.” You open your mouth to ask her to translate once again, but she speaks before you can even say anything. “You might find out sooner or later.”

“Come on. Don’t leave me hanging here,” you continue, the two of you reaching the tall, thick trunk of the tree that you had chosen. She shushes you, looking over at the people in the distance before setting her eyes on one of them and staring at her intensely. The girl doesn’t do a single thing for a few seconds, but then she perks up, looking around before finally moving her gaze in your direction, telling the person behind her something and getting up to walk over to you.

“You could have asked a bit nicer, Josi!” She yells, scowling at Josiquinn from afar and extracting a jangling ring of keys from her dark orange dress’ left pocket. Josiquinn bites her tongue in a smile.

“You usually only respond to yelling, anyways!” Josquinn yells back, angling her head towards you as you both wait for the girl to reach your location. “What use is telepathy if you have to practically scream at someone in their head to get their attention?”

“I heard that, you ryinta,” the key-wielding girl retorts as she joins you at the tree. Josiquinn snorts, gesturing towards the door.

“Just open the damn elevator, Lisha. You’re infuriating.” Lisha winks at Josiquinn before hunching over to find the keyhole, speaking cheekily over her shoulder as she begins to unlock it.

“You know you love it.”

Josiquinn rolls her eyes at this, mouthing can you believe her? to you before looking back in Lisha’s direction with a warm smile. Their interactions remind you of how you and a certain someone talk to each other, though you try to throw that thought in a mental trash can.

With a satisfying click, the door to the elevator creaks open, the ominous darkness inside being the opposite of what you had been expecting to find within and feeling less than welcoming to step into. Lisha pats the trunk of the tree twice, leaning against it with a hint of pride. “Here she is. Might be a little weathered, but she still works fine.”

Stepping forward hesitantly, you open the door enough to look upwards and into the interior of the trunk, seeing the faint outline of a pulley system reaching up as far as your eyes can see into the black. Placing your foot on the wooden panels of the square shaped elevator, you press down enough to add a good amount of pressure, hearing a creaking noise echo upwards in the process.

“I have to ask again: you sure you’re not trying to kill me?” Lisha grins below you, standing up before positioning herself next to you and joining you in looking upwards.

“Now that you mention it, this does look pretty scary.” She leaves your side to go and stand by Josiquinn, crossing her arms and scaling the tree with her eyes. “It’s just the darkness. Once we turn on the power the whole place will look a lot less murder-y. Cross my hearts.” She does an X motion with both of her hands on her chest when you look back at her.

You open your mouth and raise your hand partially from your side to ask another question, but Josquinn beats you to it yet again. She seems to have a knack for answering unsaid questions. “We shut off the resources in all the places that haven’t been occupied by us. Saving power, you know.”

Lowering your hand, you stand awkwardly in front of the pair, not knowing what else to say. “Reasonable thing to do.”

The two snicker at your response, Lisha pointing to your right and into the elevator. “It’s non-electric. Push the lever to go up, pull it to go down. Pretty simple.” You turn around, shuffling into the elevator and looking around before settling your eyes on the Solskian girls in front of you once more.

Josiquinn shrugs at you, being silent for a moment before deciding to end the conversation. “Well, I’m guessing you’re tired, so we won't keep you any longer. ‘Night, Jedi.” Lisha waves her hand jovially to you as Josiquinn moves to shut the door, and you wave your own back to her with less fervor. “I’ll make sure to turn on your water and electricity soon.” 

Before Josiquinn shuts the door, she decides to add in one last thing through its crack to you. “Oh, and we’ll put your little friend in the house next to you. Keep you together and all.”

With that, she shuts the door and leaves you engulfed in the darkness of the tree trunk. Her and Lisha’s muffled conversation can be heard through the thick bark, but that quickly fades away within a few seconds as the two leave your location. You’re left with the sound of your heavy breathing echoing from the thick walls and the fact that Anakin is going to be situated smack dab next to you in the treehouses of the forest. 

Kind of hard to ignore him when he’ll be your fucking neighbor, huh? How are you supposed to have a full, normal conversation together when practically two seconds ago you had been smashing faces with one another? Absolutely not. You’ll just have to find a way to avoid that somehow. Top priority.

Pushing these thoughts away once again, you reach behind you in the stark black darkness, your hand finally making contact with the aforementioned lever and getting a firm grip on the wood, pushing it forward. Why couldn’t they have left the door open for at least some kind of light—

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the elevator surging up at what feels like faster than a ship at full speed, the gravity of the small box shooting into the air making you have to hold on to anything that you can seize. Your fingers are locked in such a death grip on an unknown object in the dark around you that they start to ache, but holding on with this strength is a must so that you’re not pushed to the ground from the force of your ascension. Maker, what did they put in the pulley system? A hyperdrive? Sure, Josiquinn did a small zooming gesture with her hand when she was talking about the elevators, but you’d think that you’d have some sort of a more proper warning. Something as simple as a “Prepare for turbulence” would have been nice. Thanks for the help, girls.

Light begins to appear though the crack the higher you go upwards in the tree, your vision rapidly attempting to adjust to the newfound luminosity after you had just been plunged into darkness. The brightness makes you squint your eyes out of the irritation that it causes them, and you can see objects blocking the light every few seconds as you go upwards and pass by different structures or plants before the elevator abruptly stops, practically throwing you against the ceiling with the blunt cease of any upwards motion. When your feet are back on the ground, you’re gripping onto the guardrail on one of the box’s walls for dear life.

Letting go of the breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding in, you feel around from what you can see in front of you and grab onto the edge of the door, swinging it open and stumbling onto the rope bridge ahead of you. The door closes shut to your back from its own weight and doesn’t move back down, staying obediently right where you had left it.

It was quieter up here. All of the hubbub was happening below, and you could barely hear any conversations from how high up you were. Finally. Alone at last. You had been done with being in the company of people for several hours by now, and were practically running on social fumes.

Taking a moment that you now at long last had the opportunity to take, you slow down your previously hurried mind and allow yourself to relax. Beginning to step across the long wooden bridge, you find that the lanterns on the several other bridges spanning into the distance make the whole collection of interwoven houses seem even more homey, emitting a soft, warm light that illuminates the dark leaves around you in a welcoming glow. The rope handrails along the bridges have highly intricate knots tied in place to secure them, adding even more unintentional decoration. Your room was one bridge away, easily identifiable by the blooming lavender flowers across its walls and the scratchy purple door at its front.

Grabbing hold of the budding-flower shaped doorknob, it turns without any difficulty, already being unlocked and ready for you to step through the entryway. The door itself takes a little difficulty to actually push open, though, as you have to shove your shoulder against its surface several times before it finally gives in to your motions, swinging open slowly to reveal your room.

There was a full sized bed in the corner made with bedding the color of a rich, deep purple. A nightstand with legs that ended in carved wooden animal feet stood regally next to the bed, a lamp decorated with a pretty fabric and elegant fringe hanging off of its side in place on its surface. There was a plush chair hanging from the ceiling to the right of the corner next to you, a circular table with a small bouquet on the opposite end of the room being situated by a window overlooking the view outside. A pretty, patterned carpet spread across a vast abundance of the dark wooden floors beneath you, a closed door leading to what you’d presume to be the bathroom being in the middle of the wall to your right. Overall, it was a very pretty, well set up room. You honestly wouldn’t have cared if there was just a sleeping bag on the floor though. Any room is perfect when you’re feeling tired.

Walking into your room, you close the door softly behind you, the lanterns from outside being the only light source inside due to the power not being turned on yet. Situated high on the wall above the bed you notice an air conditioning unit, which you make an audible noise of excitement at seeing. After being on this planet for a little bit, you’re starting to realize how hot it is here. Sweat was making itself uncomfortably known across your body, your dress sticking annoyingly to every nook and cranny that you don’t want it to.

Deciding to just say ‘fuck it,’ you make sure that no other windows are around that someone would be able to see into your room through before peeling the dress off of your head, dropping it into a rumpled turquoise pile on the floor and collapsing on the bed, feet hanging off of its short end, and wait for one of the girls to turn your power on so that you can go and wash yourself off. Deciding that you’re still feeling too hot, you shuffle your arms forward to peel off the thin underwear that you wore to accompany your dress and throw them in the general direction of their brethren, spreading your arms out on the bed’s comforter and closing your eyes, trying to cool your body down.

Today was overwhelming. Actually, that’s an understatement. Today was utter fucking chaos. You walked around Republic City with Anakin, forgetting yourself and actually being nice to him somehow, thought that you had successfully snuck onto a mob boss’ good side but actually being two timed, kissed Anakin Skywalker of all fucking people and then crash fucking landed. You couldn’t make this up if you tried.

You groan audibly, smacking your hands over your closed eyes due to frustration and swinging your legs out once to get out some sort of emotion before slapping your arms back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It had exposed beams to add more ambience to the natural decor of the room, and lights were strung across the walls that would be giving off a nice atmosphere if electricity was actually flowing in the room. A bead of sweat drips from behind your ear and down your neck, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand with a look of disgust, resting the same hand onto your stomach as you continue to look upwards. This reminds you of when you were lying down on the ship before you had crashed.

Speaking of the ship, what had Anakin been to say back then? He asked if the two of you could talk about something, but was rudely interrupted mid sentence by that moody Purrgil. You try to auto fill the rest of his sentence, attempting to piece together his words left unsaid like a puzzle.

“Can we talk about earlier, at the opera house?” No, that didn’t sound right.

“Can we talk about earlier at the market?” Nothing happened at the market, so why would he be asking that? Try again.

Or maybe he was just going to say earlier, because earlier would be referencing when the two of you made that mistake with one another. The one where a fair share of smooching could have possibly been involved.

Fuck. It makes the most logical sense, but you don’t want it to. You try to reassure yourself that he had only wanted to speak about how things were taken care of at the opera house or something, but know that your third estimation was the most likely. Anakin wants to talk about the kiss that you shared. Sorry buddy boy, that’s not going to happen. You’re going to make sure of it.

What had even spurred you on to kiss him? Sure, you had hung around each other all day and had a not completely horrid time in each other’s company, but that didn’t mean anything, right? You were constantly near each other back at the Temple, so that wasn’t any different. You’ll admit he looked… agreeable when he walked into Silhouette in his very unlike him, very revealing Tig costume, but that didn’t change anything. At least you think that it didn’t.

You’ve always hated him. That was a constant in your life. You always bounced from place to place due to traveling for several of your missions, your friends came and went, but Anakin was always there. You had always had the fact that you hated him on the backburner, something that you could always come back to. For some reason, even though you hate to admit it, the way that you could always count on Anakin being some sort of dipshit just to you was something that you looked forward to. So what if he stopped being a constant if you started to… hypothetically not dislike each other anymore? What if you both just stopped talking and went your separate ways? No. You just have to try and get your relationship back to how it was. Platonic, hostile, and entirely not ever as close to each other as you are now. You just have to withstand him either on purpose or by accident doing anything that’s ridiculously, impossibly attractive. Should be easy. Hopefully.

But then again, what had led you to kissing him? There wasn’t much motivation other than him quite literally professing his own fear of losing you. After the club, the only thing that you had done was hang around Jackooff for a long while, and Anakin had only arrived after that when he had finally stormed into the room in the nick of time.

Oh. Oh, wow. Stars, he really did come in the nick of time. Holy shit. Jackooff had been about to—

The hum of the generator turning on fills your ears, and the lights around the room turn on automatically, dim but effective. Your breathing had become more rapid as the thoughts of what could have happened to you if Anakin hadn’t been there begin to swirl inside of your brain, and you swiftly stumble onto your feet, head spinning as you open the door in front of you. Your assumption of the door housing a bathroom was thankfully correct, and you hurry over to the intricately engraved bath that had claw feet similar to the nightstand, leaning over to block the drain and turning both knobs on either side of its spout to let the water begin to flow.

The white noise of the cascading water evens you out a little bit, but you still feel incredibly panicked. Standing in front of the mirror and bracing your hands on the sink’s counter, you stare at your own reflection and take a deep breath in an attempt to stabilize yourself. That also only works a small amount.

Observing the bandage on the side of your head that was mostly clear except for a few orange ish stains from absorbing your blood here and there, you start taking it off with shaking hands. You peel it away from your head slowly, but the bacta had already healed your cut, so there was no pain involved. The bandage is thrown in the trash can next to the sink as you continue to make an effort to control your internal disquiet.

Trying to get yourself back to normal, you crouch down and shuffle through the cabinet underneath the sink to find what you need for the bath, which is particularly difficult when tunnel vision is distorting what the labels on the bottles say. Deciding to just grab everything in one big heap, you scatter everything on the bath's ledge, your head feeling dizzy as you go to turn off the flow of water now that the bath was full. You practically jump into the water, settling yourself so that only a small fraction of your head was above the surface and your arms were wrapped around your knees.

You know that panic is a natural thing to feel about something stressful, but you didn’t expect to get this freaked out. Especially since the event in question was never actually carried out. You’ve been a lot more wound up for the past few hours than you had thought that you were.

Sighing into the humid air around you, you close your eyes and place your forehead on your knees, letting the warm water embrace you and your fears. Taking down the numerous Force walls inside of your head that you constantly keep up to block out most outside sources, the Force’s energy can now fully run through you in a way that you need right now, your silent ask for calm being granted and the warmth of the energy slowly moving throughout your mind. It didn’t actually happen. You’re okay. Anakin was with you almost the entire time.

You stay like this for a long time, letting the Force help you to calm yourself down by swirling around through you and staying in a physically unmoving state. The water begins to lose temperature and your skin becomes very pruny and wrinkly, but you don’t lift your head up until you’re sure that you’re now okay. You send a small thanks out from your own signature before gently placing your mental walls back up, opening your eyes and grabbing one of the bottles that you can now read is for hair to your right.

You scrub down, making sure that no dirt is left inside of your hair before dunking your head beneath the water of the bath to rinse yourself off, and grab a washcloth to wash your body. Making sure to be soft with your skin, you make sure that the soap is gone from you as well before getting up and grabbing one of the towels that are placed on a wall rack. It’s still damn hot in the room, so you make sure that you’re not dripping water onto the floor before exiting the bathroom and standing on your bed to turn on the air conditioning, setting its temperature to low and basking in the cool air that blows across your face.

As you’re stepping down from the bed, your foot makes contact with something that’s on the comforter and you look down in surprise. There was a comfortable looking set of dark brown pajamas strikingly similar to the style of several of the girls’ clothing that had been knocked unceremoniously to the floor by your foot, and you hop down to pick them up, wondering how long ago they were delivered and if this planet’s people were always so nice to their guests and had room service like this for everyone.

Slipping them on and feeling giddy at how comfortable the linen felt against your skin, you head back into the bathroom to fully dry the rest of your body off, brushing your teeth with some extra supplies that you had found in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror decorated with an immense amount of vines.

Finally feeling clean on the inside and out, you turn off the light in the bathroom and head back into the bedroom, the immediate cool air bouncing back and forth from its walls being a much more welcome sensation than the sticky heat that had made you feel like you had just been covered in honey. Arching your back to pop it and lifting your arms to achieve the same result, you yawn, taking a step onto the velvety carpet beneath your feet and towards your bed just when there’s a soft knock at the door. Of course there is. Why wouldn’t there be? You were only just about to go to sleep after being exhausted from your day. Moving yourself over towards the door and stomping, you peek through the viewhole, seeing Anakin standing on the other side. Shit. 

Turning the knob and opening the door just enough so that you’re able to lean on it, you cross your arms and attempt to glare at him. “What do you want, Anakin?”

Your voice was admittedly quite a bit more harsh than you had meant for it to come out, and he raises his eyebrow at you in surprise. “Back to snarky again tonight, are we?” 

You roll your eyes at him, leaning more into the door to get into a more comfortable position. “Why are you even here?” He sighs out of frustration, shaking his head and fiddling with the fabric along the fingers of his glove in a nervous way. “Just spit it out. I don’t want to be standing here for the rest of the night waiting for you to talk.”

He stops fidgeting but still keeps his hands close together. “Never mind. I’ll just… talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.” His voice is surprisingly quiet, and you immediately feel guilty for being any sort of rude to him.

“Wait, Anak—“ You try to apologize, but he’s already stepping away from your door.

“I hope you find the clothes that I sent up for you comfortable,” he snaps at you, narrowing his eyes in a scowl before turning swiftly around, heading down the bridge between your houses and running his hand lightly along its rope handrail. He sent these pajamas up for you? For fuck’s sake, why does he have to be so nice all of the sudden? You have to push down the urge to run after him.

“I do!” You yell in his direction, hoping that he can hear the apologetic tone of your voice from where he is. You’ll just have to find another way to try and deal with your feelings for him, because hurting his own was not going to work.

He turns his head over his shoulder to glance at you, his profile being illuminated in the soft lantern light. When the two of you make eye contact and he realizes that you were obviously staring back, he snaps his head back forward, bringing his hands to run over his face as he heads back to his room. You can’t bring yourself to look away, so as he opens the door to his room and is about to step in, the two of you lock eyes one more time before he steps inside, blocking the two of you from each other’s regards.

At this, you scurry back into your room and slam the door shut, resting your back against it and just noticing how you had been holding your breath. Cursing to yourself, you whisper out loud that you need to get a grip.

Stepping away from your place at the door, you pause to bask in the cool air of your room before you begin to head over to your bed, quickly pulling down the sheets and blankets and practically leaping underneath them. The bed curved perfectly along your spine and the fluffiness of the pillow was practically divine, so it was easy for you to get comfortable. Physically, at least.

Mentally, your mind feels like it’s spinning around in a frenzy. You can’t focus on sleep, you can’t focus on doing something to help you go to sleep and you sure as hell can’t focus on meditation right now, so you instead toss and turn all around the bed throughout the night, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Chapter Text

You’re jolted awake by the sound of loud pounding against your door, your eyes opening wide as soon as you whip yourself into a sitting position. Immediately regretting it, you cover your sleepily sensitive eyes with your blanket in a feeble attempt to block out the light. The wisps of a dream that included something about you and another person standing at a crossroads fade from your mind as your brain scrambles to catch up with your body.

“Rise and shine, Jedi swine! Just kidding. That was the only rhyme that I could come up with on the spot,” the muffled voice of Zarl’a announces to you outside as she begins to tap a steady rhythm against the door once again. Light is shining in through the cracks of your door and the window near the table, fully illuminating the room to the point that it’s a miracle you weren’t woken up by it alone already.

“One minute!” You shout to her, untangling yourself from your blanket and placing your feet on the ground beside your bed, still not wanting to truly get up yet. You stare at the floor, mind a great big collection of mush and heart pounding into your chest due to the adrenaline still pumping through your veins at being woken up so suddenly.

“Me and a few of the girls grabbed you guy’s stuff from the ship. I’ll leave it out here.” An unceremonious thump can be heard from outside, followed by receding footsteps. It’s quiet after that, the only other sound to be heard being the sound of light chirping coming from your window.

Curious, you lift your head up from its previous position to find out the noise’s source, finding a brown speckled Convor staring at you and hopping up and down a few times on the windowsill as if to beckon you towards it. Getting up with a light groan, you softly step your way in the bird’s direction, not wanting to scare it, and sit down in one of the chairs by the window. The convor continues to stare at you with its large, innocent eyes, and you hesitantly reach your hand up to stroke along its back. It chirps merrily at this once more, closing its eyes to relish in your petting and beginning to instead emit a light coo.

How strange. You hadn’t ever heard of Convors living on Solsko. Well, to be fair, you had never actually researched what wildlife on Solsko was like, so you didn’t particularly have knowledge on the subject. Still, it’s a welcome surprise to see one here. Must be acclimated to being near people from all of the tourists that used to come around.

But that was years ago, so why would a Convor still be so open towards you? Sure, they were Force sensitive, but was this one so sensitive that it could delve into your signature and realize that you wouldn’t hurt it? How interesting. This one looked relatively young, too. It’s probably never seen a human in its lifespan, and is still so casual in relation to your presence.

What a strange way to start your morning. It’s not a bad way per se, but something that you hadn’t expected to wake up to. But you’re not complaining. This bird’s feathers were wicked soft, and its coo was much more welcome than the banging of Zarl’a’s fist on the door.

There had been a plethora of Convors back on your home planet, long before you had joined the Order as a youngling. It had always been annoyingly hot there, which is how you’d found out that you sweat easily and get incredibly flushed when hot. That was definitely one of the reasons for why you’ve always avoided hotter planets since then.

On your home world, there had been an abundance of grassy plains and hills, much unlike how it was on Coruscant. Seeing Coruscant and its endless amounts of skyscrapers for the first time as a child had actually been quite shocking for you, but now it would be hard to imagine going back. Your village hadn’t been small by any means, having a few restaurants here and there and a bustling town square, but it still felt isolated. You were lucky enough to live in a decent sized hut with your family on the outskirts of town, only a block away from the library and near a lake that was shaded by trees. A good part of your childhood pre-Order was spent in those two places. It’s hard to think of your family sometimes, it’s been so long. Sometimes your mind drifts off into wondering if they’d recognise you if they saw you on the street. Or if you’d even still recognise them after all of these years.

The Convors on your planet had been burrowers, digging little cozy holes inside of the ground and nestling deep in the dirt. As a child, you had always waved to the little creatures every time you saw them while walking along in the fields and picking wildflowers. Of course, they’d always skitter away, which makes this specific Convor so strange.

With a quick stroke of the Convor’s head with your finger you get up and out of your chair, the bird continuing to look at you curiously from its perch while cocking its head. The floorboards creak underneath your feet as you open the door, seeing your robes neatly folded on the ground with your satchel placed on top of them. 

You crouch down to pick up your things, gingerly wrapping your arms around them and closing the door with your foot. Faint laughter and conversation can be heard floating up from the forest floor, but the giddy sounds make you feel like the butterflies you had encountered yesterday had made a new home in your stomach. Anakin’s down there. You know he is. Other than the one occasion at Tig’s house, you’d always known Anakin to be an early riser. Frustratingly so. Even if you woke up at the crack of dawn in an attempt to race down to the training room before him, you’d find him already practicing by himself as you walked inside, sparing you a quick glance before going back to what he was doing with tired eyes. Why does he always have to be up so damn early? Now it feels like you have weights attached to your feet from how slowly you’re moving in an attempt to procrastinate leaving your room.

Sighing out of frustration, you slam your pile of things onto the round table, scaring the Convor that you had forgotten was there. It doesn’t leave, though. It only jumps a bit before settling itself back into its previous little huddle. Apparently it’s determined to stay at your window.

Sliding your robes from beneath your bag, you unfold them and lay them across the back of one of the chairs before going to take your shirt off. You pause midway however, as the Convor’s wide eyes continue to stare you down as if you’re the most interesting thing that it’s ever laid eyes on. The idea of having your tits out in front of this incredibly curious bird makes you slightly uncomfortable, so you turn in the other direction to lift your shirt up and over your head, feeling behind you with your hand to grab your undershirt from the table.

You repeat this process with all of your clothes until you’re fully dressed, minus your heavier outer cloak because you have a feeling that it would be one too many layers in this climate. Glancing at the bird once more and finding it still sitting intently, you huff in amusement to yourself before heading into the bathroom to wash off the grime of sleep from your face.

You’d forgotten to grab a hand towel to wipe yourself off after you splashed water all over your face, so you have to reach for one with a dripping chin while simultaneously feeling like an idiot. When your face is finally patted down and you take a look at yourself in the vine-outlined mirror, you find yourself to be flushed. Annoyingly so. Even splashing some more cold water on your cheeks doesn’t fix it. Fantastic.

Sighing to yourself, you slap the hand towel down onto the sink before burying your face in your crossed arms, groaning into them before looking back at yourself. Just… stop thinking about him. Stop it. Bad. You scowl at your own reflection in silent determination to glare the jitters out of yourself, only to find this also fails to work. It instead causes more unwanted worries. 

You shake your head irritatedly as your mind betrays you, deciding to stomp out of the bathroom and rip off the bandage of going outside, only to find that the Convor is still resting peacefully on the windowsill, making you wonder if it’s here to stay. It was a strange little bird, that’s for sure. Seems like it could use a name. It’d be disrespectful to not give it a name, right? You can put off leaving for a few seconds and decide on what title to christen this bird with.

You turn away from the door and head in the bird’s direction. What’s a good name for the little guy? Well, you don’t know whether or not the bird’s a male, but it sure seems like it with the way it was gouging a hole into your back with its eyes while you were changing. Seemed like a very male-ish thing to do.

So, a name. Name name name. What does he look like?

“What do you want to be called, big guy?” You ask the Convor, leaning your elbows on the table and staring back at him. In response, he looks down at his feet to adjust his claws’ grip on the sill before looking back up at you silently. You snort, standing up and putting on your boots.“Great suggestion. Really suits you.” The bird chirps back to you in response with an almost sassy note. When your boots are slipped on, you hesitantly try out picking him up. Finding that he gives you no resistance, you place him on your shoulder and are immediately cuddled into by his little head.

“Don’t shit on me.” You chide, eyeing suspiciously in his direction. For some reason your mind is blanking out on something to call the guy.

Guy. Guy’s a name, right? It’s perfect.

“I hereby proclaim you as Guy Convor the First,” you announce to him, happy chirping accompanying your proclamation. You throw a lopsided smile at him before looking at the door once more, picking at your index finger’s nail with your thumbnail in anticipation. Another fierce chirp sounds out from Guy’s tiny little beak, and you glare at him from the side.

“Alright, alright! I’m going! No need to be rude. Maybe I should name you Richard instead. Dick for short.” Guy only blinks at you in a mute response.

The air feels noticeably cooler than the day before as soon as you take a step onto the platform. The wind whistles through the trees and you can hear the faint sound of a wind chime somewhere in the distance, making the whole scene feel even more whimsical than it already did. There was some light green fruit growing in the treetops that you hadn’t noticed the night before due to the darkness of your surroundings, and they added to this feeling. The faint voices far below the tree canopy mix together along with the rest of the din in the open air, barely indistinguishable from their brethren, but still vaguely audible. How late is it? Seems like everyone’s already up.

As you step on the intricately woven rope bridge, you find that it has more detail than you had first noticed. Tiny little flowers were etched into the wooden planks that you walked on, each one a different style and different shapes that made you guess they were each carved by a different girl. It made your heart feel full, thinking of the ragtag team below you working hard on creating this bridge together. Or, since these bridges seem to be on the older side, some of the girls you know being children and carving their mark into the smooth wood.

You dreaded stepping in the elevator once more when you saw it again. If the trip was that unhinged merely going up, what would it be like going down? Would you be shoved against the floor like some sort of human patty? You’d half a mind to just ask one of the girls below to jump up and carry you down instead of using their rickety wooden monstrosity of an elevator, but decide against it.

Standing in front of the elevator, you gently reach your hand onto your shoulder and grab Guy, his soft feathers tickling your palm, and place him onto the railing behind you. He shifts his weight on his feet quickly before flapping his wings, flying up and onto your head and perching there.

“I really don’t think that you want to go on this thing with me, Guy,” you giggle, grabbing him and setting him down again, pointing your finger to tell him to stay. Taking a step backward while still having your finger pointing at Guy, you feel around with your free hand for the door to the elevator and open it, stepping inside.

When the door closes and you turn around towards the lever from before, you hesitantly reach for the wood and pull only a slight amount. In doing this, you find that instead of you plummeting down, the box begins to slowly descend towards the forest floor. Meaning that last night you had just been an idiot and tugged the fuck out of the lever. Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and wait to get to the ground, a soft thud a half a minute later announcing your arrival. The door opens with a light creak, and you can see some people way past the kitchen and behind some fauna.

You step out of the elevator, shutting the door behind you and fidgeting nervously with the fabric of your robes as you head towards the people. Light laughter becomes distinguishable from the rest of the buzz of conversation. You have to push your way through some thick overgrowth in order to reach the clearing, and when you finally get through you have to pick a few leaves out of your hair. When you’re finally able to focus on the scene in front of you, your heart practically does a somersault.

Anakin is sitting cross legged on the grass while two little girls weave glowing, multicoloured flowers into his hair, Anakin reaching down and picking a few flowers out of the small patch in front of him and handing them to one of the girls decorating him. She giggles, shyly lowering her head and taking them before handing some to her friend so that she can twist them into his hair as well. Anakin has a wide smile on his face that causes his eyes to light up, the flowers adding even more of a glow to his skin along with the sun shining through the trees.

You barely register all of the other older girls holding baskets and picking particular plants from the ground, instead feeling a warmth spread down to your toes as you watch the scene in front of you. Josiquinn calls your name in a friendly way while stepping towards you over a bush, making a few of the other girls look your way and smile or wave with one hand, then return to their gathering. You peel your eyes off of Anakin and move them to Josiquinn, shaking your head to rid yourself of the warm feeling now tingling in the furthest depths of your ribs and smiling at her.

“Can I join in?” You ask, scanning the ground for a free basket that you can attach around your own hips. Perhaps if you preoccupy yourself, you’ll forget about him.

In your peripheral vision you can see Anakin shift his legs and lean down a bit to allow one of the little girls to whisper something in his ear. His eyes widen in surprise and she gives him a toothy grin, bending down to pluck a few more flowers out of the ground as he laughs.

“Sure. I need to get some water anyways,” Josiquinn responds, unclasping her woven half circle basket. It was filled up a quarter of the way with plants and herbs of varying shades. “Seems like you’ve got some competition there.” She nods her head in Anakin’s direction, smirking at you.

“I didn’t know that I was competing in the first place,” you retort, taking hold of the basket as she hands it to you. She sighs, shaking her head with a cheeky glint to her eyes.

“Do you know what plants to look for, korsha?” Her use of the unfamiliar nickname once more doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you don’t say anything about it.

“Give me a quick run down.” Translation: no, you do not. She huffs, approaching you as you buckle the basket’s strap around your hips.

“We do this probably once a week, so I’ll just give you a few to find. There’s way too many to remember. See this feathery looking one here?” Josiquinn says, picking up the plant and twirling it in her long fingers. “This is Westle Root. We sprinkle it on practically everything we eat. One of the basic spices. Then there’s Mosphoria. They look really weird, like you pulled someone’s nerves out of their body but shrunk them. They’re dark blue, so they’re pretty easy to spot. I’ll give you one more. Let me see…” She clicks her tongue in thought, glancing back and forth before settling her eyes on Anakin and his little posse. “The flowers that little Danni and Theresa are weaving in Anakin’s hair are called Xenthia’s Revenge. Weird name for them, I know. I think it came from something in our folklore. Anyways, we’re supposed to be harvesting those and not putting them in hair,” Josiquinn finishes her quick lesson by emphasizing her last sentence to the little girls by Anakin, and one of them sticks out their tongue at her before weaving another flower into Anakin’s hair. She rolls her eyes in response, crossing her arms and looking back at you.

“Got it. So… Westle Root, Mosphoria and Xenthia’s Revenge,” you list, holding up each plant from the pickings in the basket as you say their name.

“You’re all set. Anyone want some water?” Josiquinn yells behind her back, and several voices behind her pipe up in affirmation. She turns around, counting which people have their hands raised before heading over to the kitchen-cottage.

You start off searching for Mosphoria, its creepy appearance intriguing you the most. Some of the girls were talking to each other, such as Zarl’a and the short one wearing black from yesterday, while others were simply completing their tasks in silence. You chose to do the latter with the exception of quietly humming a tune that popped into your head a few minutes ago.

There’s a quick rustle in the tree leaves above you, and you glance upward in the midst of your harvesting to see Guy resting on a tree branch, watching you work. You grin, holding out your right arm towards him to encourage him to perch there instead. He chirps, fluttering down and onto your arm.

“Euphronius! What are you doing? Get over here, birdy,” a girl to your left says as she approaches you, her several necklaces clinking together as she walks. Guy coos at her, leaving your arm and flying on top of her head. She doesn’t seem to mind.

“Is he yours?” You ask, curiously staring up at the bird previously known as Guy.

“He’s supposed to be, but then he goes and cuddles up with other people, so…” She chuckles to herself, grabbing some Westle Root that’s growing off of the bark of a tree and placing it in her own basket. “He’s more like a communal pet. Seems he’s taken a liking to you, too.”

“Are all Convors on Solsko so social?” Euphronius stares down at you with wide eyes.

“Nah, just him. All of the birds here started nesting lower to the ground when the bombing started—‘cause they were scared, you know—so they’re a lot more vulnerable to predators now. I think his mom got eaten by a Molk, because I found him by himself in a pretty bloody nest. I’ve pretty much raised him since then. Heavy stuff,” she says, ripping more Westle Root off of the tree.

You’re about to ask what a Molk looks like when someone in the distance calls out to her.

“Eleanor! I found some Aslentum!” Her voice is riddled with excitement.

Eleanor smiles so wide that you can see her back canines. “That’s me, in case you didn’t know. Sorry to cut this short, but Aslentum is damn rare, and I’m desperate to get my hands on it.”

“It’s fine,” you laugh, waving her on. “Go grab some before your friend takes it all.” 

Her eyes widen at this and she nods, swiftly moving through bushes and grass alike to get to her friend. You duck your head, ready to get started on harvesting once more.

Crouching down, you see a small cluster of Mosphoria weaving its strange little leaves together and pluck it from the ground. Its roots were relatively long, so you really have to grip onto the plant with a firm hand to harvest it. Of course, the task was much easier for the Solskians, as their bodies were made for this environment. The girls plucked everything from the dirt with ease.

Seeing that no other Mosphoria clusters were in the spot that you’re crouched in, you stand up, smacking your hands together to rid them of excess dirt and examining the grasses for any flash of blue. As you continue to search, you hear your name called over your shoulder and instinctively turn towards the voice, panicking internally at seeing Anakin walking towards you. He was holding a small bundle of Xenthia’s Revenge in his metal hand, their comrades still wrapped in his hair like a colorful halo. You instantly try backing away from him without paying attention to what was behind you, causing you to knock your head against a low hanging tree branch with a wince. Unfortunately, this gives Anakin the extra second he needs to catch up to you, a small smile still prominent upon his face.

“For you, my lady,” he says jokingly, extending the tiny bouquet towards you. You’re silent as you scrunch your nose in faux scrutiny at the flowers, flicking your eyes between him and the bouquet before beginning to step through the grass once more, turning away from him in your pursuit for more Mosphoria to harvest.

“Just put them in the basket.” Bending over, you tug a small strand out of the ground. Hopefully you sound indifferent.

“Oh,” you hear behind you, his voice almost dejected and less enthusiastic than before. This only lasts a moment however, as he jogs next to you and carefully places the bouquet on top of your small pile of plants, making sure that their formation is still the same as it was in his hand before. After he does this, you continue your attempts to shrink away from him, trying to ignore how the tiny bouquet made the corners of your lips want to turn upward.

“We still need to tell the Council about our crash,” Anakin says, beginning to also pick strands of Mosphoria and put them in your basket. You sigh, taking your hand off of the plant you were about to pick and standing up straight, turning around towards Anakin but making sure to keep a good amount of distance between the two of you, taking a few steps back. Maybe one too many, as you’re now two arm lengths apart. Anakin furrows his brow at seeing this, but doesn’t try and close the space you had just created.

You try to keep your words as formal as possible towards him. “I suppose so. Should we ask one of the girls to grab my projector?”

Anakin squints his eyes at you, staring at your face for a moment before answering. “…No. I asked Zarl’a to grab it while she was getting our clothes.”

“Perfect. We’ll call them when Josiquinn comes ba—“

“Water, here! Get your water or just continue being thirsty, I don’t care,” Josiquinn announces, carrying a large tray filled with wooden cups. There was quite a bit more than the amount that the few girls from earlier had asked for, and everyone began to rush towards the drinks. Josiquinn chuckles at the swarm.

You exhale, staring off into space. “Nevermind, then. We’ll call them now.”

The two of you join the rest of the crowd in heading over towards Josiquinn, you untying your barely filled basket in the process. She acknowledges you setting it softly on the ground beside her with a curt nod before continuing to pass out water. You both step over a few heaps of brush to continue on your way.

“I have the projector in my pocket, so we don’t need to grab it. Think the kitchen will be a good place to call?” Anakin asks, nodding towards the cottage in the distance.

“Sure,” is your only response.

The walk to the kitchen is silent, as you feel like talking to him more than you need to will backfire on your own feelings. If you just stay quiet and avoid him as much as possible, you’ll forget that anything romantic ever happened between you both. You’ll go back to bickering all of the time, not having to question your fluttering heartbeat when he’s near, and everything will be normal once more.

Anakin’s eyes on you while you’re walking in silence aren’t unfelt on your end, though. He continues to glance over at you on your entire trek to the kitchen.

Anakin heads through the kitchen’s doorway first, tapping his fingers on the wood of its frame once before his hand slips off as he moves forward. You’ve never actually paid attention to them before, but now you’re noticing just how nice his hands are. Trimmed nails, long fingers— 

Stars, you’re really making this hard for yourself, aren’t you?

There’s a large island towards the right side of the cottage, and Anakin begins to position the projector on its corner while you assume a spot you deem comfortably apart from him. Anakin inputs a few things into the projector, swiftly moving back so that he’d be in view of whoever he was calling.

“I called Master Kenobi. He’ll be more lenient about the ship than the others,” Anakin whispers to you as the projector contacts his Master, leaning close in your direction in the process. As if on cue, Master Kenobi’s lean frame pops up on the projector, his hands crossed behind his back and giving you no time to try and calm down the blush that had suddenly engulfed your face at Anakin’s closeness. Master Kenobi says both you and Anakin’s names with a respectful nod after each address.

“It’s good to see your faces again! Your assignment is going well, I hope?” He scratches at his beard for a quick moment before returning his hand behind his back, waiting for one of you to speak.

You straighten your posture in an attempt to look more formal. “We succeeded in capturing Jackooff and carbon freezing him, sir. There were no fatalities, although some violence was necessary in order to apprehend him.”

“The only place that any fighting occurred was in a private room of Jackooff’s, so there was almost no trauma to innocent civilians,” Anakin adds to your statement, mimicking his Master's actions but instead holding his hands at his front. “A waitress was held at gunpoint by one of Jackooff’s guards, and although she seemed distraught during the event, I spoke with her afterwards and she seemed to not be too badly affected. I could sense no abnormalities in her Force signature.” It felt strange seeing Anakin be so put together. Even before the past few days, the two of you had always been at least semi-relaxed around each other, albeit only to claw at one another’s throats.

“Very good then, my young apprentice. I shall relay this information to the rest of the Council. How soon do you expect to be back on Coruscant?” Master Kenobi’s eyes twinkle with controlled excitement, something you’ve learned to spot after all of these years around him. Unfortunately, he had just brought up your problem.

“Well, you see…” You’re struggling to explain exactly how you crashed in a way that doesn’t sound like some sort of a fever dream. “Our ship was sabotaged by who we suspect to be one of Jackooff’s guards.”

Anakin piggybacks on your sentence. “We almost died. The navigational computer wasn’t functioning, so we were showing up in completely random places in and out of hyperspace. I haven't even been able to pinpoint what exactly happened to it yet, as the ship’s still up in a tree.” Master Kenobi does a double take, opening his mouth before closing it with an amused smile. “And then, when we had finally thought that the whole ordeal with the computer was over, a Purrgil showed up.”

“A mean one,” you add, and Anakin snorts quietly at you from the side. You curse yourself internally for being casual once again.

“Master, the stories about Purrgils don’t do them any justice. They’re beautiful creatures. When they’re not trying to kill you, at least,” Anakin says, eyes distant for a moment before he snaps back to attention once more. “It smashed against our ship and sent us crashing through space—“

“And that’s how we’ve ended up stuck on Solsko,” you finish, Master Kenobi looking between the two of you while shaking his head and continuing to smile.

“Solsko? How in the world did you two end up so far across the galaxy?” Master Kenobi chuckles to himself, rubbing a palm lightly across his forehead before taking a breath and composing himself once more. “As you both know, that’s quite a far trip.”

“Of course,” you retort, fidgeting with your fingers.

“The Separatists have become more violent within the past few days, even going as far as sending an assassin in an attempt to murder a senator, so not many ships are available at the moment. From what I can remember, the closest soldiers stationed near Solsko are on…” He looks up, thinking and mumbling under his breath. “…Murkhana. Yes, that’s right. Their people have recently been experiencing small waves of attacks against them, so we sent a few clone troops over to help. I can get a soldier to retrieve you, but it would take at least a few days. Murkhana isn’t directly next to you, after all.” Master Kenobi adjusts his robes around him.

No. Nonononono. A few days? That’s a few more days of being alone with Anakin. A few more days of trying to half ass excuses to stay away from him.

“We understand, Master. I think that we’ll be just fine while we wait here. Our ship was fortunate enough to not crash in an active war zone, and the civilians here have been nothing but kind to us,” Anakin states, his posture becoming more relaxed.

“Excellent! Oh, and before you forget, send your coordinates over to me and I’ll relay them to the troops on Murkhana.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin responds, his voice rehearsed as if he’d said this a thousand times.

“Master Kenobi, with all due respect, are there really no other ways to retrieve us at an earlier date?” You butt in, frantic to change your situation. Anakin turns in your direction while Master Kenobi raises an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Padawan, these are times of conflict. We don’t have first class ships on hand to retrieve two Padawans on short notice.” You bow your head, nodding.

“My apologies, Master. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up and find his face to be forgiving, but Anakin’s to be confused. Master Kenobi continues on with his previous train of thought.

“And do try to be civil with one another. Jedi cannot act the way you do at the Temple in front of civilians,” Master Kenobi scolds the two of you with a knowing expression, and you withhold the urge to snicker. Both you and Anakin nod in response. “Good. I’ll see you both in the near future. Until then, may the Force be with you."

The two of you say the phrase back to Master Kenobi before he ends the call, his projection dissipating from sight. Anakin immediately steps in front of you, wearing an expression of incredulity.

“Is there some sort of reason for you needing to get back to the Temple sooner?” He asks, waiting expectantly for you to answer.

You stammer in surprise for a second, not knowing how to respond to him, right when the familiar green head of Zarl’a peeks in through the doorway, staring at the projector and then the pair of you. 

“Are you done?” She whispers, taking a step so that she stands fully in the doorway.

“Yeah, we’re good.” You respond quickly to make sure Anakin can’t say otherwise, Zarl’a walking languidly into the kitchen upon your answer. Anakin narrows his eyes at you skeptically before also nodding at her, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. You swallow hard, averting your eyes from his direction.

These next few days are definitely not going to be fun.

Chapter Text

Zarl’a rifles through one of the several cabinets lining the walls, crouching down in such an unusual way to reach the low cabinet that the knees of her back legs tower high beside her head. She looks almost spider-like in this position.

“Good. It sounded important, so I didn’t want to just barge right in,” she states, frowning in concentration before her whole head disappears into the cabinet to search for whatever she was looking for more thoroughly. Anakin’s mechanical fingers glint in the soft light coming through the door as he places the projector in one of his pockets, eyes still holding a hint of disbelief but overall dropping the two of you’s previous subject. You’re intrigued as to why he decided not to wear his gloves today, but push the thought to the side.

“Is it really that hard to put something back where it belongs after you eat it? Quelt’ma, those little fiends…” Zarl’a sighs in frustration before squatting down even further, staring at the dark cabinet in defeat for a moment before looking up at you. “Can you use your compact human body to find the dried fruit for me? I’ll give you some as a reward.” Anakin huffs as your stomach rumbles in strangely comedic timing after her request. Food sounded like an incredibly good idea right now. 

“Let me take a look,” you say, stepping over to her and away from your place previously near Anakin.

When you reach Zarl’a, you peek over her shoulder to take a quick look inside of the dimly lit cabinet to see what you’re dealing with. It’s not too messy, but she had overturned a few things in her frantic searching, making it appear more cluttered than it really was. 

You shuffle around to get up close and personal with the inside of the cabinet just as a familiar voice calls Anakin’s name from outside, followed by an unintelligible question. You glance in his direction just in time to see him flash a warm smile to the person outside of the door and nod his head in affirmation to said question, uncrossing his arms before facing in you and Zarl’a’s direction.

“Josiquinn wants me to help her tinker with one of the elevator’s broken pulleys, so if you’ll excuse me.” His face is fairly calm, but the excitement that he’s feeling about doing something he loves peeks through his voice even through his best attempts to hide it. You cover up a smile at this with the palm of your hand, pretending to scratch your cheek.

“Thank the Maker that elevator’s finally getting fixed. It’s been rickety since the time tourists were actually here,” Zarl’a retorts, scoffing at the fact. “Go do your thing, Jedi.”

You lock eyes with Anakin as he nods respectfully in goodbye to Zarl’a, and for some reason are not able to peel your gaze away. He turns his body to leave, but keeps eye contact with you all the way up until he exits the kitchen, only snapping his eyes away from yours to look at Josiquinn who had now revealed herself in the doorway. You swallow hard when he leaves, exhaling raggedly as you shake your head to snap yourself out of your daze, and shift your focus to the inside of the cabinet once more.

“Is it a stretch for me to assume that those little girls from earlier are the fruit culprits?” You ask, getting on your hands and knees to rummage inside of the cabinet just as Zarl’a had earlier. It was much easy for you to see inside in comparison to her, you find. Zarl’a’s Force signature radiates a wave of annoyance at your mention of the little troublemakers, and you grin to yourself at the fact.

“They’re my little sisters. I think a rebellious streak runs in our family,” she says, her tone just as irked as you’d sensed her to be, though there was a hint of something else in her voice as well. “I remember giggling a bunch when our older brother got into trouble. Mom would always bat at his hand or scowl at him whenever he screwed up.”

As you pull a few boxes away from the back of the wall and towards you, you find a stack of the dried fruit squished between a tiny crevice between the wall and the ground and retrieve it, rolling your eyes at the little girls’ attempt to hide it from the others. They’d done pretty well. Zarl’a’s four eyes light up at the sight of the dried fruit in your hands, and she swiftly takes two of the several wrapped packages from your fingers and begins to unwrap them. You place the others down at a spot at the front of the cabinet. 

“Did he get better as he got older?” You ask, adjusting your upper robes that had lifted upwards in your searching. Zarl’a shakes her head, smiling sadly to herself.

“Nope. He’s never stopped being a troublemaker. He always despised doing what he was told, which is why I think he’s such a fucking idiot for enlisting.”

Your light grin from earlier morphs into a frown, your hands dropping from your shirt and into your lap. 

“Do you know how he’s doing?”

She shakes her head again, finishing unwrapping both sticks and handing one to you. Your eyes widen in surprise at her response as you reach out and take one, and Zarl’a looks up at you curiously in mute intrigue to your reaction. 

“It’ll be okay. You’re family. Families always stick together,” you say, attempting to comfort her. But then you feel as if you’ve suddenly sucker punched yourself in the stomach. 

Who are you to talk? You haven’t seen your family since you were eight years old. No matter how you try to phrase it, whether it be that you were taken to help protect the galaxy or took the opportunity to receive Force training unlike any that you could receive elsewhere, you still abandoned your family to join the Jedi. They’d never know what you’d accomplished. Sure, you were a stupid kid who didn’t understand the full consequences of becoming a Jedi when you had agreed to go with the man you now call your Master, but you still consciously made that choice. Though you hadn’t been told that you’d be leaving your family forever and you hadn’t known that the faces of your family would become a smudge in your memory, you’d still chosen this path. And now you have to deal with the aftermath of that decision.

“Apparently not Uma, I guess. At least I know that he’s not dead. That’s more than a lot of the girls here have.” She shrugs, as if the situation was amusing, though her eyes say otherwise. A nervous habit, perhaps. “Uma and I’s Force bond is particularly strong, and I can sense that he’s still alive, so… that’s a comfort.” Zarl’a takes a bite of jerky while wiping off a watery eye with the back of her sleeve, sniffing once into her arm before abruptly standing up from her place alongside you on the floor. You blink up at her in surprise, but attempt to continue on with your conversation.

“Zarl’a, I’m so sorry that Uma did—“

“No need to dwell on the sad when we have things to do today!” Zarl’a says, her voice suspiciously chipper in comparison to her mood just a few seconds before. Her face is silently begging you to keep up with her rapid switch of topics, so you go along with the sudden change. If she doesn’t want to talk about her brother right now, you won’t push her to.

“What’s planned?” You ask, digging your teeth into the unknown dried fruit as you stand, moving your jaw upwards to tear a piece off. It’s surprisingly tough, the flavor a mixture of savory and sour unlike any fruit that you’d personally tasted before. It made your mouth water as you chewed.

Zarl’a closes the cabinet that you rifled through earlier before walking towards the doorway, swallowing her food and wiping at her eyes one more time before answering. “Well… nothing. There’s never really plans here, per se. Each day has a different feeling to it, and we just go along with what we sense should be done. Solsko is a really Force balanced planet. You can actually tune in and listen it if you focus hard enough.”

In comparison to the strange rigidity of the way you’ve lived for over a decade, the idea of living off of instinct and emotion, doing things at your own pace and based on intuition was… strangely captivating. It’s incredibly ironic that the Order is all about mediation and keeping a balanced mind and spirit when it seems as if their main goal in life is to keep you as worried as possible at all times.

“What do you feel like doing?” Zarl’a asks, and your eyes snap up from the spot on the wall that you’d been spacing out at. You try to listen in to the planet for a second, attempting to clear your mind and search for the balance that she spoke of, but then remember how little you’ve practiced your meditation over the years. You’d probably have to sit here for hours just to reach a speck of the inner harmony that Zarl’a has with Solsko.

“I think the local should choose.” You say, gesturing towards her with your hand as you follow Zarl’a in stepping out of the door. The pair of you head back underneath the tree canopy and towards the area where everyone else was currently harvesting. Really, though, what would you have even suggested to her? ‘Something that keeps me away from Anakin so that I don’t have a mild case of cardiac arrest every time I see him, thanks.’ Real suave move on your part.

“I have an urge to go and check on my Strider, so I guess that I can ask if people want to go down to the stables,” Zarl’a says, running her hand along the mossy bark of a tall, thin tree that you pass by.

Striders. They were something else that you remember from your project on Solsko those few years ago. Striders are a semi sentient species that reside in the deep forest, and are often ridden by Solskian natives. Apparently they’re incredibly tall, with their legs alone reaching up to five feet high, and have thin, extendable trunks situated at the front of their faces to reach leaves and berries off of high hanging branches. You’d read that they had incredibly soft brown fur, and are now feeling incredibly giddy at the possibility of being able to see a Strider in person as the memories of the animal’s photos rush back to you. 

You want to ask Zarl’a so many questions about Striders, such as how do they even mate with those legs? or have they ever trampled someone before? and in this hypothetical trampling situation, would they even be able to tell they did crush someone under their feet?, but ultimately decide to hold your tongue and instead answer the questions yourself when you go to see the creatures.

“I’ve always wanted to see a Strider in person,” you retort, looking around as you walk. A strange black bug with a long curled snout buzzes by your face and you flinch aggressively, glaring at the bug as it continues on its merry little way. That asshole. You’ve always hated bugs. One time as a kid when you were in your home town’s library, you’d checked out a book and gotten comfortable in a little reading nook by the corner, settling yourself in to start reading the fairy tale that you’d selected. Turns out though, a gigantic spider had been squished in the book by some disgusting individual, and the pages were stuck together with little spider guts, much to the horror of child you. You’ve despised most bugs ever since then.

Zarl’a pushes a low hanging tree branch out of the way as she steps into the dense foliage, and you attempt to do the same. Instead, you somehow end up with it hurling back without an ounce of mercy into your face, and you mentally curse a string of words that the Council would be ashamed of you for yet another time on this planet. The audible smacking sound of the branch against the skin of your face was loud enough to make Zarl’a turn around and check on you, and she starts snickering when she sees the mark that the stick had left on your face.

“Rookie.” She says, shaking her head and grinning at you before facing forward once more, slapping away gigantic leaves the size of what you’d estimate to be Master Yoda’s ears that you ultimately give up trying to keep from swinging back against you. Instead, you try putting your arms in front of your face and walking ahead in a defensive position so that you aren’t wholloped again. This tactic works, your fabric covered arms winning your battle against the plant life.

When your treacherous path through leaf smacking territory is fully adventured and you emerge into the clearing once more, you come to find that everyone’s baskets are filled up almost completely to the brim. Everyone had been incredibly focused while you were gone, apparently. Barely any Mosphoria could be seen anywhere on the ground anymore. There wasn’t much left that you could help with, but you’d try and gather what remnants you could find, you suppose.

“Do you see any free baskets?” You ask, scanning the forest floor for anything that you could collect more herbs in. Zarl’a cocks her head to the side, looking at you playfully.

“You don’t have to help us with harvesting, Jedi. It’s just a chore.”

You’re about to try and reason with her, but she cuts you off. “Take a break from saving the galaxy for a minute. You're gonna be stuck here for a while anyways, so… think of it as a vacation.”

You ignore her offer, continuing to search for a basket for yourself. “I’m sorry to break it to you Zarl’a, but Jedi don’t take vacations. ‘Saving the galaxy’ is a pretty full time job.” 

Zarl’a waves off your protestations with her gloved hands before placing one of them on her waist, pointing the other in your direction. 

“Then you’re about to be a revolutionary. No buts.” Giving you no time for a rebuttal, she turns and heads off into the fauna with her compatriots.

You sigh dejectedly as she walks away, feeling awkward and useless to be standing and doing nothing while everyone else is busy around you. You take one last look around to see if you could sneak a basket around your hips again, but upon finding nothing, decide to heed Zarl’a’s words. Your eyes dart back and forth across the land to find a place to sit that’s out of all of the women harvesting’s way so that you’re not doing nothing and a nuisance, and decide upon the spot that Anakin had been resting on upon the patch of Xenthia’s Revenge from earlier. You’re not choosing that spot for any particular reason, of course. Why would there be a reason? You’re just getting out of the way.

Tall grass itches against your skin as you walk through stalks that reach your hips to get to the flower patch. The grass somehow feels like it’s itching you right through the cloth of your pants, which earns it a severe scowl from you. You fight against the tickling grass, not wanting to let it get the best of you, and make your way to your seat on top of the patch, sitting yourself down and stretching your legs fully straight before you. The flowers are incredibly soft beneath your fingertips when you first place your hands at your sides, and you run your fingers through them absentmindedly as you gaze at the girls harvesting.

The girl in the orange leather jacket from yesterday is wearing a stylish wrap on her head today, and you can see her giggling with Eleanor in the distance. Zarl’a is nowhere to be seen, likely making her rounds and conversing with everyone harvesting like the little extrovert that she is. It’s highly possible that she’s asking about the stables. Josiquinn and Lisha are flirting obviously behind a tree, and you smile at their obliviousness to how noticeable they are. Lisha caresses Josiquinn’s cheek for a moment before giving her a light kiss, smiling at Josiquinn over her shoulder before reaching to pick a patch of Mosphoria out of the ground.

You pick a flower from the cluster beneath your fingers and twirl it, watching its bulbous petals shimmer into several different colors as the light hits them at rapidly different angles. The wind rustles through the trees above you, and in this moment, you feel so oddly at peace that you wonder if you should try meditating in the Temple’s gardens from now on instead of your room. Maybe it would feel like less of a chore if you could smell the breeze outside while you cleared your mind instead of the familiar scent of you that filled your room.

You exhale contentedly, staring down at the flowers for a long second before flopping yourself down on the ground and closing your eyes, absorbing their scent and letting it envelop around you like a soft blanket. The idea of shifting to lie on your side floats through your head like the breeze passing through the flowers and brushing against your arm, but you decide against it in fear of accidentally falling asleep. That would be embarrassing.

Other than the flowers tickling you at the side of your arm, all else seems still. The buzz of everyone’s conversations are slowly tuning out for you as you embrace the sound of the forest, and you ponder to yourself for a moment before deciding that you’d like to look up into the canopy and see if you could spot any birds chirping their way along through the thick leaves. Maybe Euphronius will be up there.

You’re abruptly met with Anakin’s face standing far above you instead of the tree canopy, his eyes crinkling in a small smile down at you.

Both you and Anakin’s eyes widen at each other, your own due to him suddenly popping up in your moment of peace. He jumps backwards as you inhale sharply, sitting up straight as a board with speed that could rival a Kaadu and squinting your eyes at him, face morphing into a scowl before you can help it. Your face seems to despise him on autopilot, even if you don’t internally.

He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was a youngling about to be chastised by the Council. You’ve caught him staring at you twice now. Twice. What’s his deal? It’s not like there’s something on your face. Or is there? No, don’t be stupid. So what’s his reasoning?

There’s a silence between you both for a moment, your heart pounding against your chest for reasons unbeknownst to you. Your back feels sore from how straight you’re positioning it, so you slouch after a second to be more comfortable. Anakin apparently takes this as a sign to break the strange quiet sizzling between you, his stance also loosening up from its stiff posturing.

“I’ve never seen you so relaxed,” he says, acting as if the quiet had been a normal, everyday thing. In your head, you pat yourself on your back for not fiercely rolling your eyes at him, while at the same time ignoring the fact that you had experienced the same thought when you were waking him up on Hosnian Prime. When you look up into his face from where you’re sitting, there’s this strange, almost hopeful glimmer inside of his eyes, and you wish that it would just go away. Everything would be so much easier if he just stopped with that stupid look.

Even through your annoyance, however, you don’t miss the way that those same hopeful eyes flick to your lips for a split second. Just for a second, right before he makes normal eye contact with you again, shifting himself to sit down and be at level with you and making your body buzz with anticipation.

At his movement, you scoot yourself backwards, dragging a few petals from the ground along with you, before tucking your knees into your chest and wrapping your arms around them and into a closed off position. A safe one. Now to be just as closed off in the way that you talk to him.

“You don’t see me around a lot at the Temple anyways, Skywalker,” you respond, giving him a look that you hope screams go away. His last name feels almost foreign on your tongue now, though you’ve barely called him by his first for a day. How strange.

Anakin squints his eyes at you, watching your face that you keep purposefully straight for a quick second after you address him formally, glancing between your eyes as he takes a breath and continues to speak.

“Maybe you don’t see me, but I see you,” he retorts, sitting himself on the ground and leaning on one of his knees. You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion, raising your chin from its position on top of your hands.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your voice sounds squeaky when it comes out, and you wince at the sound. He huffs, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious to you. How pretentious.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not mulling over something before. Even when we’re in the dining hall eating, it’s as if you’re… separated from the moment. Like your mind is somewhere else. It’s nice to see you not worrying about something. You’re almost like a puzzle to me sometimes, you know.” He looks at the bark of a tree to your left. “In summary, I do see you. You just never seem to notice. You’ll need to practice your observation skills sometime.” He chuckles to himself before looking up at you nervously, his fingers digging into his knee.

You open your mouth before quickly closing it, staring at a patch of grass between you and Anakin to avoid his gaze. You feel strange inside. Like something is about to snap. Or like a water warped plank of wood that’s been so decayed through its center that it’s a miracle it hasn’t completely melted through yet. Or— maybe you need to stop making comparisons to how you feel right now and get the hell out of here. You can’t allow Anakin to see you like this. You can’t have him knowing what you think of him. Though apparently he’s seen a handful of your other emotions.

“I’ll try to sometime, but like you said, I’m busy,” you respond, affirming to yourself that your answer was as neutral as could be. Eyes still not meeting his, you quickly stand up and brush your hands off on your pants before scurrying out of the flowerbed, a small flurry of leaves following the gust of wind that you created by moving. It’s at this time that you notice the sweat that’s formed along your palms.

You’re not heading in any specific direction except for away, so you're not actually paying attention to where you’re going. This causes you to almost bump into one girl with several different face piercings, apologize, then continue forward and narrowly miss bumping into Eleanor almost directly afterward. How are there so many people in one space all of the sudden? You could swear that everyone was a lot more spread out just a little while ago. By the look of it, you’ve barely gotten more than a few steps away from Anakin.

“Maker, where are you headed off to so fast?” She asks, placing her hands on your shoulders to steady you from falling. You huff, taking a breath to compose yourself before looking up at her. Guy— no, Euphronius, had left his perch on her head, apparently.

“Nowhere, sorry. I was just thinking.” Your voice doesn’t sound like you.

“Must’ve been thinking pretty hard, then,” she jests, letting go and jabbing you lightly with her elbow. That was an understatement. “Are you going to come to the stables? A group of us are heading over.”

The stables. You’d almost forgotten. Going would give you the chance to clear your head and meet some kickass animals. “Oh yeah. I can’t pass up the chance to see one of those beasts.”

Eleanor chuckles to herself. “I don’t get why foreigners are so fascinated with Striders. Mine is a little shithead,” she says, fixing her necklaces that had gotten tangled together.

“What’s it done to warrant such an accusation?” You grin at her, and she gives you an exasperated look that you can tell is sparked from a memory. Lifting her hand up, Eleanor counts off her Strider’s crimes on her fingers.

“Bucking me off of his back, constantly overturning his feeding trough, eating my clothes, peeing on my shoes, getting into fights with the others in his pen…” She trails off, turning her fingers that count five towards you. “That’s five off of the top of my head. I feel like that constitutes the title.”

You shrug your shoulders and nod in agreement as Eleanor looks over your head, scanning the area behind you with her eyes before landing them on something not too far off.

“Anakin! You coming to the stables with us?” She shouts, gazing expectantly in his direction. You freeze up, shoulders tensing as you wait for him to respond. Eleanor. Sweet, sweet, ignorant, Eleanor. Why did she have to go and ask him?

“Sure, I’m always up for a change of scenery,” Anakin’s lighthearted voice chips in behind you. Some rustling occurs that you assume to be him getting up to join you and Eleanor, and you panic. Turning in the other direction towards Anakin, you cross your arms and will yourself to look right at him, stammering out your words as you try to form a sentence.

“Maybe you— you could just, uh…” Fuck. You have zero ideas. Hurry up and come up with one. “You and some of the more tech savvy girls could try and fix up our ship now that we’re on a planet. Mend what damage that you can so that the Order doesn’t have as much to deal with when they try fixing it back at the Temple.” Another breeze sweeps through the trees, both you and Anakin’s hair flowing in the same direction. He blinks at you suspiciously, raising an eyebrow with his mouth slightly open.

“Like Master Kenobi said: these are times of war, and supplies are scarce,” you add nervously, clasping your fingers together at your front so that you don’t fidget with them.

“You helped put together the new pulley system on the broken elevator earlier today, right?” Eleanor asks, addressing Anakin. His cheeks turn a light pink that matches one of the flowers weaved into in his hair.

“It wasn’t just me. Josiquinn and Yvonne did most of the work,” he states, waving his hand off as if to shove his own efforts to the side. You huff to yourself at his modesty. He could probably fix a broken engine with one of Euphronius’ feathers and have it up and running within half an hour. Actually, you're underestimating him. Twenty minutes.

Eleanor rolls her eyes, stepping beside you. “Jedi, always being humble. If that’s what you’d like to do, you’re welcome to,” she says, nodding in the direction of the tree that you crash landed in. “You’ll be missing out on getting to ride, though.” Eleanor, please stop trying to convince him to go.

“You should definitely go. To the ship, I mean,” you blurt out, eyes wide as Eleanor turns her head to look at you momentarily. Anakin puts his hands in his pockets, but otherwise stands still.

“Whatever you think is best.” His voice is soft, his face incredibly sincere. You can practically feel your heart skip a beat.

“Alright! Time to split up, then. See you in a bit, Anakin.” Eleanor says, her voice spurring you out of your light trance. She puts her arm over your shoulders in a friendly manner as you begin to head towards a medium sized group of girls at the other side of the clearing. Your closeness probably looks comical due to your differentiating proportions.

“See you,” Anakin responds, the sound already distant as you have to keep up with Eleanor’s long legs. The tone of his voice sounds strange, and you can’t stop yourself from peeking over your shoulder to see if you can see why.

When you’re able to set your regard on him, you find Anakin to be looking at the ground, shoulders collapsed and lips pursed in thought with his hands still in his pockets.

You look ahead once more, chewing the inside of your cheek as you and Eleanor approach the group. Lisha’s face is instantly recognisable from the masses, and she grins when she sees you, outstretching her hand in your direction when you and Eleanor arrive. When you take it, she spins you towards her before she lets go, laughing at your surprise. You giggle a bit yourself before looking over the group of people that you’d be with for the time being.

The girl with the facial piercings was here, along with the one who wore the leather jacket yesterday. Zarl’a’s voice can be heard behind two people, and one of the little girls whose name you’d forgotten stood next to an older Solskian woman with half moon glasses. Several other people were also spread out across the grass. Damn, you really need to learn these women’s names.

The older woman clears her throat, silencing the lively group. Her voice is deep and raspy. “Alright everyone. Remember to stay on the path, and…?” She trails off her sentence expectantly, waiting for the group to fill in her blank.

“Don’t be stupid,” everyone else responds, all sounding playfully annoyed as if they’d gone through this a hundred times. You chuckle to yourself at the rule.

“Especially you,” the woman says, staring down at the little girl. The girl beams up at her, a mischievous glint to her four eyes.

Everyone begins to walk on a path of trodden grass that leads into the deeper forest, the trail wide enough for two or three people to stand on at a time. Everyone is conversing with the person next to them with an eager smile on their face, and you decide to watch them converse for the time being, letting your mind not worry about conversation and instead just observe. 

Perhaps this time away, however short, will give you the chance to push Anakin out of your mind once and for all.

Chapter Text

A small stream following alongside the path babbles and bubbles its way next to you, almost making conversation that’s quite similar in sound to those of the energetic girls that you’re currently following. Tiny, thin fluorescent fish are barely visible underneath its surface and are decidedly swimming above the rocks piled at the bottom of the stream. One of the fish accidentally bumps into another on its way forward, and the other fish bumps it back. Within seconds, a tiny battle begins to play out. The fish smash against each other in a fight for dominance, and you chuckle at the sight.

“Felners are notoriously aggressive. You wouldn’t expect it of them since they’re so small, right?” Lisha’s question drifts into your right ear before her body joins it next to you, rolling her eyes at the Felners fighting in the stream. You pass by the silent battle and continue deeper into the forest, noticing tall, hot pink flowers slowly appearing alongside the path that excrete a light blue goo from the middle of their petals.

“I’m not too surprised by violence anymore,” you respond in a playful tone. Though after a beat, you realize that you may have accidentally sounded gloomy out of the blue to Lisha, even if you were just joking around. Though it is true. You’re no longer surprised by violence. As a Jedi, you’ve learned to never expect anyone to be inherently good. There’s always something, even the tiniest thing, that can make someone act just like any other criminal you have to overcome. They could have a good reason, too. Often do. Sometimes you wonder what would be your breaking point. What’d be the thing to make you forget what kind of person you really are and lash out blindly. Though you always shake the thought out of your head before it can actually go anywhere.

Lisha huffs, the dangly wooden earrings that you hadn’t noticed she was wearing jingling lightly along with her body as it moves. You decide to glance towards her to gauge her reaction at your quip, looking over her face in an attempt to read what she’s feeling. She’s put on a neutral face. 

“Yeah. Me either.”

It's obvious that she’s speaking from experience, just as you were, and now you feel absolutely terrible for fucking up the entire mood from before. There’s an ecstatic feeling that’s been buzzing inside all of the girls’ heads that has obviously just left Lisha’s. Guilt itching at your back, you rack your head for any conversation starters that can steer you both away from the path of melancholy conversation that you’re currently heading towards.

“Who’s the woman at the front?” You ask, discreetly nodding your head in the direction of the spectacle-adorned woman leading the group down the path. Lisha’s eyes light up at your question.

“Oh, that’s Delores. She’s lived here since before a lot of us were born. Her and her husband constructed a lot of the houses around here, actually.” Lisha smiles, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. You ignore the fact that Delores’ husband is currently missing, assuming that he’s either fighting in the war or has already passed from other, more natural causes.

“She’s always been a sort of ‘leader’ in the valley. Everyone goes to her for advice or help on something. She’s not elected or anything, but she’s just so… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. She’s like everyone’s mom, if that even makes sense.”

“That makes perfect sense, actually,” you laugh, looking ahead at Delores. She’s talking to the people around her with enthusiasm, but her eyes are still trained forward and on alert for anything that might happen. It’s not hard to see how she stepped into the leadership role so easily; she’d fit right in as a member of the Council. She also reminds you of a nice, older woman that you were friends with when you were a child. Deciding that this topic was an upbeat one, you tell Lisha of her.

“I used to know a woman like Delores. She lived in a tiny cottage outside of my village and always invited me in for tea, and said that I could thank her by telling her stories.” You smile to yourself, remembering the sweet taste of the herbs from the woman’s garden. You’d forgotten her name, but could still remember how kind of a person she was. Her Force signature was the first that you were ever able to sense; it was like a warm hug wrapping its arms around you. “She had that same motherly presence.”

Lisha smiles along with you, reaching her hand out towards one of the gigantic flowers and swiping some of the neon blue goo off with her finger. She puts her finger in her mouth and licks off the goo before dropping her hand at her side. Apparently they’re not acidic. Well, unless Lisha was suddenly suicidal, but you highly doubt it.

“Try it! It’s sweet. Tastes like a pastry,” she says, noticing you eyeing the flowers. You reach your own hand out and gather some of the neon liquid on your own finger. “Delores loves making stories, too. She writes plays, you know.”

You stick your finger in your mouth, trying out the goop for yourself. Lisha was right; it tastes strangely of cookies. You can’t quite tell what kind, though. A tart? A spiced canapé? It’s impossible to pinpoint.

“Really? What kind?” You query after you swallow and remove your finger from your mouth, the flavor of the flower still lingering on your tongue.

“Have you heard of The Ballad of the Twin Suns?” She asks in return, plucking a flower from its place in the ground and holding its stem between you both so that the two of you are able to snack on the goo without slowing down. Your eyes widen at the title of the play, and you look ahead at Delores once more in delight to catch another glimpse of her.

“The Ballad of the Twin Suns? Are you kidding me? Who hasn’t?”

Lisha giggles, adjusting the strap on her small satchel. “She wrote that, as well as a whole bunch of other ones. It was a big part of our section of the forest’s tourism industry.” You both go to grab some goop at the same time, fingers knocking against each other. The two of you snicker, and you let her get hers first. “Customers came from off planet to see her plays, and we made the intermission overnight so that people would pay for room and board to be able to see the second act the day after. We even built an outdoor theater to make it seem more professional.”

She sighs, licking off some goo while wistfully staring up into the tree canopy. “Of course, we don’t have anyone but us here who can appreciate Delores’ work anymore. She’s still writing, though. Each month our younger residents perform something new that she’s concocted.” You’re about to remark on the fact that The Ballad of the Twin Suns is one of your favorite plays when her face suddenly lights up at the memory of something, eyes snapping towards you. “Oh! We have a performance tomorrow, actually.”

Hm. Another play. It’s almost ironic, as the one you attended yesterday didn’t particularly go so well. Even so, you’d love to see one of Delores’ plays in person.

“Think you can squeeze me in to see it, or will it be sold out?” You ask, elbowing Lisha playfully. Her own voice mimics your sarcasm in her response.

“I dunno. With the amount of people that are going to be flocking in from across the galaxy, I don’t think you stand a chance.”

“How tragic.”

You both giggle for a moment before Lisha takes the flower in her hands and cups it to her mouth, leaning her head back and gulping down the rest of the liquid inside. When she finishes, she tucks the stem into a small hole in a tree before looking back at you.

“Sorry. We’re almost to the stables, and the petals aren’t good for Striders,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “But yeah, of course you can come! It would be great if you and Anakin could get dressed up for it. All of us get really fancy for any of the plays the little ones put on to make them feel less silly performing for just us.”

You and Anakin? When did you two become a package deal? You’d thought that since he wasn’t mentioned in the conversation at all, he wouldn’t be invited. This is just great. Perfect. You’ll just have to sit as far away from him as possible, you suppose.

“I’ll work with what materials I have at hand,” you retort, pinching at your robes to display to her what clothes you currently have with you. You’re never going to wear that blue dress again, so the only other option that you have is the one that you’re wearing. “But that’s really so sweet, Lisha. The kids must be so excited.”

“I am!” A high pitched voice exclaims behind you. You swiftly turn around to find the little girl you’d spotted earlier walking eagerly behind you, her wide smile sporting a few gaps from missing teeth. “This is my fourth play.” 

Lisha chuckles at her, rubbing her hand over the girl’s smooth head. The girl swats Lisha’s hand away with a scowl before looking back up at you, then behind your back. There's a change in the sound of the repetitive footsteps against the grassy path, and when you look over your shoulder, you find that the group had finally reached the stables. It was easy to perceive this due to a giant sign carved into a plank of wood overhead that read ‘Stables’ on it. Solskians aren’t fans of subtlety, apparently.

Snapping your gaze back to the little girl in front of you, you grin at her, outstretching your hand for her to take. 

“Can you show me around? You can tell me about your performances, too,” you state, and her smile seems to get even wider. She nods, taking your hand with relish and squeezing your fingers with a surprising amount of strength.

“Sorry, Lisha. I’m gonna have to abandon you,” you say, gesturing to the smiling fiend at your side. Lisha smirks, adjusting her bag once again.

“How ever will I cope?” She states, sighing dramatically.

“You’ll just have to pick up the pieces and move on.”

You grin at each other before waving goodbye, and you look down at the girl holding your hand. “What’s your name?”

“Theresa. With a ‘th’ at the beginning, not ‘te.’” She lisps, seeming annoyed when she mentions the second way of spelling Theresa. People must misspell her name all of the time.

“Well, Theresa, why don’t you lead the way?” You’re incredibly antsy to interact with the Striders, but remain calm so that Theresa doesn’t feel rushed.

“Okay! Just follow me.” She lets go of your hand and walks underneath the entryway sign and into the stables. You have to jog a bit to catch up to her because she walks so fast.

The two of you take a sharp right turn, and your eyes catch sight of a Strider in a stall to your left. It stares back at you with wide, intrigued eyes, but you and Theresa pass by the animal and continue walking past several other stalls until you reach one at the very end.

“There’s a waterfall right by here that we ride to a lot. My stall’s the closest to it. You can kind of hear it if you’re quiet,” Theresa remarks, making preoccupied conversation as she steps towards the gate of the stall. She looks down at the latch to her gate, wiggling it aggressively for a few seconds before it finally unlocks. She pushes it open and gestures for you to come over, beaming with pride.

“This is my Strider, Iggy. She’s a baby,” she states while pointing into the stall, pushing the gate open and stepping inside. You take this as your queue to follow her in, closing the gate behind you so that Iggy can’t get out.

The stall is quite simply built, having four wooden walls, a trough with two separated areas for wood and water, a medium sized box bolted to a wall and a shaded area towards the back with a pile of moss underneath it. A few flowers and some grass have popped up from the ground here and there inside, but it’s quite clean, and doesn’t have the rancid smell that one would assume stables to have. You glance around the space, looking for any sign of a Strider, but find none.

“…Where is she, exactly?” You ask, continuing to look around for a flash of movement. Theresa giggles, pointing towards the heap of moss in the shade. You squint your eyes at the moss, attempting to see in any way how it could be an animal, but come up short.

“She’s good at hiding. C’mer, Iggy! She won’t hurt you. Promise.” Theresa coos in Iggy’s direction, clapping her hands together softly. Slowly, the pile of moss moves upwards until you can finally see a pair of legs unfolding from beneath a torso. She’s taller than you would expect a baby to be, reaching just above your height. Her fur still looks the exact same as it did when she was sitting down, however. Raggedy and jumbled together. 

Iggy gently extends her trunk towards Theresa as she steps towards her, caressing her hand with it when she reaches her. Iggy eyes you warily as she touches Theresa, and you remain still so as not to frighten her.

“Don’t worry, she’s like this with everyone. I’m pretty much the only person that she’s interacted with. Her momma got hurt a little while ago, so Delores is taking care of her while I train Iggy.” Theresa pets Iggy’s coarse coat with her hand, gesturing for you to do the same. You reach your hand up and place it on Iggy’s head, moving it down over her back and restarting the process, breaking into a smile at the fact that she hasn’t run away.

“Her fur’s so different from the adults,” you remark, a rush of affection surging out of you and towards Iggy as her trunk starts to caress your arm.

“The babies have to hide when their mommas aren’t around, so their coats aren’t brown when they’re born. She really looked like a bush, right?” You nod in agreement, giggling when Iggy outstretches her tongue to lick your hand.

“So, tell me about your performances,” you say, shifting your eyes to Theresa so that she knows she has your attention. She perks up at this, patting Iggy’s back once before heading over to the box latched against the wall.

“In my first one I was only seven,” she says, opening the lid on the box with a bit of a struggle. “In that one I got to do a pretend sword fight! My character lost, but it was still fun.”

“What role will you have tomorrow?” You ask, brushing your fingers along Iggy’s trunk. She honks softly, and both you and Theresa giggle at the sound.

“I’m a prince! Wait, wait, let me show you my man voice.” She opens the lid of the box but then pauses to turn toward you, raising her chin and straightening her posture in an attempt to be more masculine. “Good evening, madam.”  

She’s deepening her voice so much that it sounds a bit crackly, it not sounding remotely like a man in any way and more like a frog. You don’t tell her this, of course. Though you do duck your head behind Iggy so that she can’t see your smile. Once you suppress the laugh that had wanted to spring out of your mouth, you look back at Theresa, who’s staring at you expectantly.

“That was amazing! Didn’t even sound like you. I’m excited to see you perform tomorrow, you’re gonna do great.” She beams up at you, her light green cheeks blushing a darker green at the praise.

“Thanks. I’ve been practicing.” Iggy lets go of your hand and steps over to Theresa as she reaches into the box along the wall, pulling out a cloth bag labeled ‘feed.’ She unbuttons the top of the bag, maneuvering around Iggy’s eager body and over to a small trough by the shaded area, filling it around three fourths of the way.

“Delores keeps on telling me that I give her too much food, but Iggy likes it,” Theresa whispers in your direction, buttoning the bag shut once again as Iggy begins to feast. Iggy’s food seems to be made of different dried fruits, chopped up leaves and tiny chunks of tree bark all mixed together in one heap. Theresa approaches you, stepping away from the food trough and leaning in close. “Don’t tell Delores, ‘kay?”

You nod, putting on a serious face. “Absolutely. I won’t tell a soul.”

Theresa nods curtly along with you before walking back over to the box and putting the feed back inside, attempting to close the lid but struggling once more. It seems to have a series of strange latches in place to keep the feed incredibly secure. Iggy must have gotten into the box with her trunk more than a few times. You lean against a pole on the fence surrounding the stall and absentmindedly watch Iggy eat, tapping your fingers in a rhythm along the wood.

“The prince I’m playing’s name is Quaken. Cool, right?” She latches the lid shut as she flounces back to you, her eyes glimmering with excitement. “Anyways, I have to wear this really poofy pair of shorts that are supposed to be what royalty would wear, but I think they look stupid. At least I have a cool hat with them, though.”

Theresa talks incredibly fast when she’s passionate about something, you find. It makes you wonder if she gets to talk about herself often or not. You decide to stay silent, choosing to listen intently to her and let Theresa do all the talking, which she seems more than happy to do.

“—And don’t get me started on how all of the rehearsals have been! Do you know how hard choreography is when you have to lift someone up? I sure didn’t. Danni—she’s the one playing the thief—gets thrown into a bush, and it’s hard to get her in the right spot! Her costume is so much better than mine. I wonder if they’ll let me… change… it…”

Theresa trails off, scrunching her brow together in concern as she closes her mouth and looks outside of the stall. She’s silent as she surveys the foliage beyond you, leaning over the fence and squinting as if she was searching for something. Immediately uneasy at her sudden change in attitude, you stand next to her position at the fence and join her in leaning over slightly, prepared to grab your saber if needed.

“Something’s wrong. I can sense it in the air.” She says to you, voice hushed. A chill runs up the back of your neck at her statement, and you lightly push her away from the fence and take her place in the possibility that something could jump out at the two of you. As the Solskian women are able to feel any slight shift in their area’s Force signature down to a tree falling sick due to them being born here, it’s understandable that you weren’t able to feel it in the first place. But it does make you wonder what could be so off that even a child could sense it. 

“Stay behind me,” you whisper back, retrieving your saber from your boot and holding it at ready in your hand. You don’t activate it so as not to scare Theresa, but make sure that your finger is firmly placed above the button to turn it on.

It’s at this time that you notice all of the chatter and buzz of conversation surrounding you from the other stalls had also come to a hush, the only sounds left being the chirping of the birds in the trees and the faint noise of the waterfall in the distance. When you look over at the stall nearest you, the girl inside has the same concerned expression on her face as Theresa does. She snaps her head to the right in a sudden movement as if hearing something, and you tighten your fingers on your weapon. 

Your grip releases almost immediately when you see that the only thing to be approaching you was Delores, who you see to be stopping at each of the stalls and whispering to the girls inside of them. Cold fingers wrap around your own warm ones, and you look down to find Theresa staring down at Delores along with you, eyes wide. She’s obviously scared, so you clench her hand in a supportive manner in an attempt to make her feel more secure.

When Delores reaches your stall, you wrap your arm around Theresa’s shoulders and pull her close to you, leaning on the fence with your other arm to quietly converse with Delores.

“What’s going on?” You ask quietly, adjusting your grip on your saber once again.

“All of us, we can feel that something’s… not quite right. I’m asking everyone what course of action they think we should take.” She runs a hand over her head in a worried motion, though her face shows no hint of stress. “I’d appreciate a Jedi’s input greatly.”

“Can you sense where exactly this is coming from? Or how big of a threat this could be? I can do a sweep of the area, if you’d like,” you respond, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“No! Don’t go. Please.” Theresa tugs on your robes in her plea. You rub your hand on the back of her shoulder reassuringly, though you don’t accept or deny her request.

“That would most definitely set my mind at ease, if you’d be willing,” Delores retorts, affirming your offer of looking over the area near you. You nod, reaching down to peel Theresa’s arms from off of you even though it makes your heart hurt.

As you finally get her arm off of your waist, Delores and Theresa bristle up through another huge wave of the same sensation that even you feel. With Delores and Theresa being so near, their signatures must be rubbing off on you. It’s hard to discern exactly what it is, but you can tell that something isn’t how it’s supposed to be, like the feeling that you have when you’re alone in the dark and don’t know if someone else is in the room. It’s so overwhelming that you can feel your heart rate speed up.

Delores gulps, putting on a serious face before abruptly shouting instructions at the other girls inside of the stables. “Everyone, we need to get back to camp! Now!”

She swiftly undoes the clasp keeping you and Theresa’s stall’s gate closed before sprinting over and helping to unlock all of the others that are struggling with their own. Theresa stares up at you for a moment before running in Delores’ direction, waving you towards her in an urgent manner.

With lightning speed you close Iggy’s gate, silently wishing her goodbye as she continues to feast, and run out of the stables. All of the other girls had already started sprinting at full speed down the path, their four long legs carrying them forward much faster than your two can. You begin to lag behind the rest of the girls rather fast, though you say nothing.

Towards the back of the group, you can see Lisha glance behind her back at you before pausing, waiting for you to catch up to her and outstretching her hand. Confused, you take it, and she swings you onto her back with enough force to almost knock the breath out of you.

“Hold on,” she breathes, continuing her pace once more. You reach your arms underneath her own and clasp your hands at her chest, and she catches up with the rest of the girls running. You’re going so fast that you can barely see the stream from earlier alongside the path, and the trees are a blur as you rush past them, looking like a smeared painting.

Everything that Lisha darts by becomes smudged together from the speed, and you do your best to stay vigilant for whatever could be in the camp or behind you through the mixed scenery. All of your surroundings look exactly the same, and you become used to the monotony as you’re bumped around on Lisha’s back.

When you’re able to differentiate between the different colors of trees that you sprint by, you know that you’re approaching the Valley. You don’t expect any other differences to occur, but are suddenly surprised when you’re able to hear the faint sound of yelling from off in the distance ahead of you. You suck in a breath, preparing yourself for any sort of fight that you and Anakin will have to partake in with this unknown threat. The yelling continues.

It becomes louder the more distance of the path you overcome, and you’re unsuccessful in trying to detect any intelligible words in the string of belligerent shouts. They begin to sound almost pained, which makes you wonder just who the sounds were coming from. After what feels like forever, your group reaches the clearing of the harvesting area once more. The group passes over the clearing in what seems to be seconds, jumping over the huge bushes that surround its front and into the main section of the Valley.

When the girls finally make a left turn and begin to head in the direction where the treehouses are, everyone abruptly stops dead in their tracks, you almost flinging off of Lisha’s back from the momentum. You swiftly scoot off of Lisha, maneuvering yourself to the front of the group to see what was going on and assess the situation. It’s surprising that you were able to keep hold of your saber throughout your bumpy path, but you position it behind your back so that the potential threat wouldn’t know that you had a weapon. When you’re finally able to make your way to the front of the group, you find the girls at the front wide eyed, some covering their mouths with their hands in shock at the sight in front of them.

A Solskian man is crouched in a helter-skelter position in a medium sized tree, yelling down at Anakin and the other girls who had joined him on the ship from his perch. Anakin is closer to the man than the others, his hands held out in the air to show that he means no harm as he tries to reason with him. The man’s left hind leg is completely gone, a haphazard bandage wrapped around its stump, and he also has a huge gash that looks infected even from where you’re standing sliced diagonally across the top of his head, reaching slightly down onto his face over his brow. He wears rusty brown armor across his body, a half empty arrow sheath at his back and a blaster holder at his side that is void of any weapon. What you assume to be his helmet is on the ground beneath the tree, obviously having rolled away from the man in his injured antagonism.

Holy shit. This guy is a soldier. Why is he here?

Eleanor pushes through a few of the girls to your right, having the same idea as you in wanting to see what was happening.

“What the hell is going on? Is there—“ She trails off when her eyes land on the soldier in the tree, and her breath hitches in her mouth. She does a double take of the man, staring at him, before her eyes start to glass over. “Montgomery?”

Her voice is so delicate in comparison to her usual way of speaking that it catches you off guard, and you blink at her in surprise. One of her hands reaches out in the soldier’s direction before she brings it back to herself, pursing her lips for a quick second before breaking into a run in the soldier’s direction without a moment’s hesitation.

“Montgomery!” She exclaims, yelling as loud as she can in his direction. The soldier’s yelling ceases abruptly, and Anakin looks in Eleanor’s direction with a surprised expression, his hands still outstretched.

“Eleanor!” Montgomery yells back, his face contorting into a weak smile as he reaches both arms out to her as if to embrace her from his very spot.

Unfortunately for Montgomery, this action rids him of all grip that he had steadying him in the tree, causing him to wobble in place for a moment before he begins to fall forward, his arms flailing in front of him in a feeble attempt to cushion his fall. He plummets off of his perch and lands unceremoniously on top of a rather thin patch of grass, and Eleanor reaches him in a flash right as he hits the ground.

Montgomery’s impact snaps you out of your astonishment, clearing the confused fog that had collected in your mind as you run towards him. Eleanor holds Montgomery’s head in her lap while another girl sprints towards the kitchen-cottage, and Anakin hesitantly approaches the pair, still wary of the soldier in uniform.

However, when you reach Montgomery, ready to help him however necessary, he points an accusatory finger at you and screams.

Chapter Text

You jump back at Montgomery’s sudden outburst, holding your hands in the air by your head to show that you mean no harm. This, however, presents itself as a decidedly stupid tactic, as you’re quite literally holding a lethal weapon in your hand and accidentally revealing it to the very scared, very bewildered man in front of you. You swiftly tuck your saber back in your boot, shrugging your shoulders as if to say ‘see? It’s gone,’ which doesn’t do a single thing to soothe Montgomery’s mind.

Eleanor tries to soothe him by caressing the side of his face tenderly with her thumb, but it proves to be of no use. Montgomery thrusts his upper half up and off of her lap and digs his hands into the ground, grabbing chunks of grass and soil with his fingers and throwing it at you, all the while bellowing with wild eyes in your direction. Eleanor winces both times that his fists fling dirt your way, mouthing sorry afterwards but overall looking as confused as you are.

A few girls arrive at your side and are trying to speak rationally to Montgomery, but his bloodshot eyes are only staring dead at you. Eleanor stops him from trying to throw one of the arrows from his quiver at you, practically shaking his shoulders now and yelling at him to calm down. He manages to heave a good chunk of dirt on your right shoe with his unguarded hand, and you stare wide eyed at the girls next to you, mouth open as you don’t know how to respond to the situation.

It’s utter fucking chaos. 

The cluster of people who had previously been trying to coax Montgomery down from his tree are now slowly stepping towards the scene, and Anakin branches off from them to scurry in your direction, glancing worriedly your way. You’d assume that he’s coming over to help, but that’s the exact opposite effect that his appearing in Montgomery’s line of sight does.

When Montgomery sees you and Anakin standing side by side next to each other, his eyes snap between you both in horror and he scoots backwards and more into Eleanor, clutching onto her arm while looking at you both in fear. Anakin, in his own chaotic rite of passage from Montgomery, also gets clumps of dirt thrown at him which he decidedly dodges, knocking shoulders with you in the process. Montgomery stops yelling long enough to plant an entirely unprecedented kiss on Eleanor’s lips, which she smiles dazedly at for a blissful moment before regaining her serious composure and gawking at him, her mouth dropped open. 

Montgomery continues to scoot away from you and Anakin in fear, dragging a good amount of grass along with him. Eleanor looks to be in complete shock at his actions, trying to get him to look at her face as she cups his cheek with a loving hand. Everyone around you is muttering furiously with one another, and you’re about to join in and ask if they’re just as confused as you are when you feel a strong hand place itself on your shoulder. 

You snap your head around to find Delores staring at Montgomery with a perplexed expression, her brow set as she closes her eyes and takes a quick breath.

“I think it would be best if you— oh!” Delores, Anakin and you all duck in unison as a boot is hurled your way. Delores clears her throat, looking only slightly rattled. “It would be best if you two would clear out for a bit. He seems to be afraid of you. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but it’s obvious that he needs medical attention. We can’t give him that if he keeps…” She stares at Montgomery, seeming utterly confused. “…Thrashing around.”

“Have we done something to upset him?” You ask, keeping an eye on Montgomery in case he decides to chuck something else your way. Delores shakes her head no.

“In the two seconds that he first saw you? No. Anakin, did anything happen when we were gone? Anything that would make him act like this towards you?”

“No, he just appeared out of nowhere! We heard him yelling Eleanor’s name on the ship, and he was in the tree when we left to see what was going on. Josi tried to talk to him and it went fine, but when I did? He acted like I had tried to kill him.” Anakin responds, crossing his hands and holding them on the back of his head. He exhales through his mouth, gazing at a random spot in the distance before snapping his eyes back onto Delores.

She huffs in thought before shrugging and shaking her head again, not having an answer for the commotion at hand.

“Until we get this figured out, I’m going to have to kick you two out of this area.” Both you and Anakin nod, looking like stupid twins in unison. “Stray behind the kitchen and the fire pit, alright?” Delores gestures behind you, and you nod in affirmation yet again. 

“Got it.”

“Understood,” Anakin adds.

“I’ll get someone to grab you when he’s sedated.” Delores pats you on the shoulder then steps towards Montgomery, speaking to him in Solskian in a soft, cool voice that you would use when speaking with a child. Fitting for the situation at hand.

You and Anakin stand there awkwardly for a moment, gawking at the man spitting out harsh words in Solskian in front of you. After a second, you take a peek at Anakin, finding him to still be occupied with being dumbfounded by Montgomery, and decide to make your hasty getaway while he’s preoccupied.

You walk quite a bit faster than your normal pace would be, desperate to find a place away from Anakin so that he can’t chat you up when you’re secluded together, but also so you can give Montgomery the peace of mind he needs. Why that includes you being as far away from his line of sight as possible, you don’t know, but you’re willing to respect his wishes.

Pondering for a moment, you check over your shoulder to see which way Anakin was headed so that you could go in the other direction, instead finding him to be speaking to a girl with tattoo sleeves on both of her arms. He gestures in your direction, and you turn your head back around and start walking faster away from him, though you highly doubt he was even talking about you. You’re both about to head this way, after all.

When you’re far enough away from the rest of the girls that you can no longer hear the buzz of their voices, you take it as the right moment to branch out from the main path and find your own secluded area. Taking a right, you follow a trail of small, purple mushrooms that lead to some tall grass that’s littered with some dainty green flowers you’d categorize as weeds. You trudge through it, pushing the strands away from your face so that you’re able to see where you’re going. You end up standing next to one of the many gigantic trees holding a treehouse in its upper branches, its trunk wider than you even if you stretched your arms out to the side as far as you could. This, you designate your own personal hiding spot until all of the chaos is over and done with.

The rustling of the leaves overhead is loud even from where you’re standing, birds perched on individual branches continuing in their merry little song as if a man hadn’t just been screaming a few minutes earlier. It’s quite closed off and calming, this spot. Away from people, but with enough sources of light entertainment around that you won’t collapse from boredom from being here too long.

You’re just about to step over to smell one of the light green weeds from earlier when there's rustling in the grass behind you, and you snap your head around, instinctively getting into a defensive position aimed at the unknown intruder. When Anakin out of all people appears, you almost punch him in the face. Out of surprise or disdain, you don’t know.

He seems unfazed by your incredulity, however, one of his eyebrows being raised as he stands in front of you with his arms crossed. He simply remains there for a moment, looking at you as if you’re supposed to be telling him something right now. What’s his problem?

“Why are—“ You both address each other at the same time, but his voice overpowers yours.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks, uncrossing his arms and squinting his eyes at your face. He feels altogether too close for comfort at the moment, and you’re not a fan of how hard your heart beats in your chest at his questioning. You swallow, turning to head in the other direction while simultaneously spouting an answer at him.

“Nothing,” you state, taking a step away from the trunk of the tree. You find yourself unable to take anymore, however, as a hand softly wraps itself around your wrist, stopping you from continuing onward. The hand pulls you back to where you were and then some, bring you barely a foot away from Anakin’s face. His fingers are loose enough that you could easily break them away, but you don’t.

And you’d been nervous about being close earlier.

Anakin’s scrutinizing demeanor cracks as you look back at him with wide eyes, and he seems to sink in on himself as he gazes at you.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” He asks, realizing he’s still holding onto your wrist and letting it go. It falls to your side, and you caress it with your other hand’s fingers, the place where he’d touched you feeling like it was buzzing. You look down, pondering lying to him for half a second but putting a stop to it just as quick. You don’t think that you can lie to him when he’s looking at you like that.

Sighing, you lean your head down and place your face in your hands, trying to gain some composure before peeking at Anakin through the tops of your fingers. He’s still waiting patiently for your answer. Placing your hands at your sides, you will yourself to say something. You open your mouth once, close it, then open it again to finally speak, your voice much quieter than you had expected it to be when it comes out.

“Because I don’t know how to act around you anymore, Anakin.” You look down, glancing at the tips of you and Anakin’s shoes. “…I’m scared.”

He takes a step away from you, rubbing a hand through his hair in thought before locking nervous eyes with you once more. “If this is about the kiss, I…” He pauses, inhaling a shuddering breath. “If you want to, we can forget it ever happened. I'd rather it never happened at all if I knew that you would stop talking to me.”

Your heart beats strangely, fluttering from anxiety and the weight of his words. Did he really… Was he truly this hurt from you distancing yourself? You hadn’t meant to hurt him. You were just trying to protect yourself.

“No, it’s… I’m afraid of everything changing.” You grab a bit of the fabric of your robes and fidget it between your fingers, needing something to keep you grounded here and not run away like your body is trying to scream at you to do.

Anakin looks like he wants to reach out and touch you, his arm even twitching, but he holds it in. “Nothing has to change. We can talk to each other the way we’ve always talked.”

You scoff, abandoning your fidgeting to instead cross your arms in front of your chest. “What, with me yelling obscenities at you?”

“I don’t care how we speak to each other. I just want…” His voice becomes heavier, along with the intensity of his words. “I just want you to talk to me. Please.” You swallow the lump in your throat, urging yourself to not cry and dropping your arms again.

“How am I supposed to do that? Everything feels like it’s… shifted. And I’m scared of it, Anakin. Of the uncertainty.”

“There isn’t time for uncertainty. Didn’t you see how Montgomery almost died coming back to Eleanor? Imagine if he had died in battle. I can't imagine what I would do if that happened to you.” Anakin says, his voice more firm than last time. It lessens almost as soon as it rose, though. “Do you know how worried I was yesterday, when I saw you in that room with— with him?”  

You both know who he’s referencing.

“And I thought that— that I would never be able to tell you what I really think of you. How I feel about you. And that nearly killed me.”

Your breath hitches when he finishes speaking, not wanting to breathe in case one gust of air would blow this moment away from you. Anakin eyes you nervously.

“How do you feel?” You whisper, and he pauses, pondering to himself in a long, quiet moment.

“I’m going to be entirely honest,” he warns, and you nod softly. He takes a breath.

“I’ve been mesmerized by you ever since you first arrived at the Temple.” His voice cracks a bit, which makes his statement all the more endearing. The corners of his lips turn upward as he speaks. “I remember… someone had done your hair that day,” he adds, tentatively reaching his index finger forward and wrapping it around yours. It’s true. Your mother had crafted a beautiful updo as a last goodbye before you left her and the rest of your family goodbye. You’ve tried to recreate it since, but can never get it just right.

“I thought that you looked so beautiful. And you… you still do. I wasn’t able to speak to you that day, but when I finally got a break in training after a few weeks and was able to introduce myself, you already seemed to hate me.” A pang of guilt overcomes you, remembering glaring at Anakin when he had first told you his name and outstretched his hand. He’d been nothing but nice to you then.

“Anakin, I— I’m sorry. I’d heard all of these whispers of you being the ‘Chosen One,’ and was so, so jealous of you. No matter how hard I practiced, in my head I’d never be you in the eyes of the Council.” You shake your head in disappointment at yourself. “I took my anger out on you, and you didn’t deserve that. Don’t deserve that.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he responds, the finger on yours tightening reassuredly.

Nothing to be sorry for?

You scowl and thwack his arm lightly, knowing his robes will absorb any such light impact. “Yes I do, you idiot! All of this time, I thought you were looking down on me, so I pushed back—“

“I didn’t care how you interacted with me. I still don’t. I just acted how I thought you wanted me to, so you’d at least look at me. I’m fine with just being near you.” His words rush out so fast they almost jumble together. He pauses for a moment, staring at your face as a slow frown overtakes his own. “And I know that… that this is a lot. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. I’m sorry.”

Tracing his features with your eyes, you squeeze his finger in return, smiling shyly up at him. “Now we’re both apologizing for things that don't need one, then.”

He smiles softly at your reassurance, but it quickly morphs back into a worried frown, his forehead wrinkling in thought.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. You have the right to never speak to me again if you wish, but I just—“ You continue looking at him gently while he darts his eyes around in all directions as he rambles. A small lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead with his animated movements, and it shifts softly every now and then along with him. “I just had to tell you everything that’s been going through my head since—“

“Anakin.”

He pauses in his tracks without a second thought, looking at you from the side warily before meeting your eyes fully once more. It’s easy to see the anxious worry that lingers in the back of his head, all of his pent up thoughts plaguing him even now. 

“…Yes?” He asks, voice holding the same anxiety that his eyes do.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now.” You look up at him, analyzing his face. His eyes are wide, and he stares at you as if that was the last thing he’d ever have expected you to say. You hesitate, wondering how to phrase the question of asking if he’s a fan of your suggestion. “Can I—“

Anakin abruptly crashes his lips into yours for the second time, and suddenly everything feels right. One of his calloused hands reaches up to hold the side of your face while he moves the other to the back of your head, using it to cushion the impact of him pushing you back against the trunk of the tree and pinning your body against his own. He kisses you like a man starved, and you’re the last meal that he’ll ever have.

A squeak slips from your mouth before you can help it, surprised at the sudden movement and Anakin delving into the kiss so quickly, though you’re still entirely up for it. You haven’t been able to reciprocate yet as your mind catches up with you, and just before you can do so, Anakin pulls back, his pupils dilated wide and his chest heaving along with his ragged breaths. He looks incredibly worried, as if your squeak of surprise was instead one of protest towards him.

Oh, Anakin. How wrong he was.

He begins to say something that you suspect to be an apology, and you stop him before he can finish. 

“I—“

“Get back here, Skywalker.”

Reaching one of your hands up to the back of his head, you push his lips back against your own, kissing him with fervor. Your other hand reaches up to join the other in entangling in his hair, and your entire body feels like it’s on fire. You’re burning alive from the inside out because of him, and you feel like you’re dying. You are dying. You’re sure of it. Why else would a kiss feel this good? 

But if you died right now, you think you’d be just fine with it being in the middle of getting to feel just how soft Anakin Skywalker’s pretty little lips are.

You tease at the entrance of his mouth with your tongue, searching for entry, and he groans, it reverberating from deep within his chest and being released into your willing mouth. He releases his hands from your face and behind your head and instead moves them to your waist, tugging your body closer to him and flush against his chest. This, in turn causes you to moan into his mouth, and he opens his mouth more, his own tongue trying to fight against yours for dominance. You smile into the kiss, letting him get his way this time.

Flashes of different fantasies that hadn't ever included him before suddenly appear in vivid pictures in your mind. You and Anakin entangled together on the ground beneath you, his face buried deep between your thighs as you gasp for air. Him in the red suit from yesterday curling his fingers inside of you from underneath the two of your’s table at the club. The sounds he would make as you take him in your hand and tug ever so slowly.

He tastes like honey and green tea, the sensation incredibly comforting but enticing you into wanting to explore it even more. At thinking this, you realize that you need to stop yourself before you get too heated and do something rash, so you pull your lips away from his. He follows you as your mouth retreats from him, desperate for more contact with you. You pull his hair lightly to stop his efforts, but don’t expect the tug to cause another low groan to emit from his throat and spill into the open air. The sound shoots liquid heat straight down to your core and you shudder, but still release him, pacing yourself.

His breathing is ragged as he stares with lust blown pupils at you, your faces still only inches apart from one another. You expect that you don't look much different, though his hair is sticking up in some seemingly impossible places from your wandering hands.

Silently, you reach your hand up again to smooth his hair down, and he continues to simply stare at you as you fix it. You glance at him and cock a brow suspiciously, putting your hand down and slyly smiling up at him.

“What?”

He smirks, still holding you by the waist. “I’m just admiring you like this. Up close.” He whispers the last part into your ear before shifting his mouth to start kissing along your jaw, and you nearly say fuck it and go along with whatever he’s thinking of doing before regaining your common sense.

“Hey, I— mmph.” He begins to trail lower onto your upper neck, his mouth open and messy against your skin. “Anakin.”

Your voice was firm enough to stop him in his actions, and he leans back again looking concerned, albeit through a haze of lust.

“We’re quite literally in a public space, you know,” you say, leaning back against the trunk of the tree and sliding down to the ground, sitting with your knees upright. He smirks down at you, moving slowly to sit in the spot to your right.

“Well, when you kiss me like that…”

“Like what?”

You procure the most innocent face that you can muster at the moment and look him right in the eyes. He rolls his own at your actions, suddenly pulling you into him and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, resting his chin on your head. You’re not used to intimacy like this due to living in the Temple, but are quite thoroughly enjoying it, so you tell your brain to just quiet down and embrace the moment. Your body lies stiff for a moment, not used to such affection from someone it’s been trained to dislike, but relaxes into him after a few seconds.

“Like you wanted to eat me whole,” he mumbles into your hair. He pauses for a moment, and you can see from upside down him grin to himself in thought. “Though I would’ve let you.”

“Hey!” You say, tugging yourself out of his grasp to situate yourself in front of him and pretend to scowl. He merely continues to grin at you.

“I did say I was going to be honest earlier, didn’t I?” The look on his face is so smug that you experience a strong urge to smack it off. Or kiss it. Two good options.

“I remember you saying some other things, too,” you say, tapping your chin in sarcastic thought. “Let’s see… if I’m remembering correctly, the word ‘mesmerised’ was used—“

“If you’re trying to embarrass me, it’s not going to work.” His voice is incredibly matter of fact, and you snort at his assurance.

“I’ve done it a few times. Just give me a bit and I’ll find your weak spot,” you respond, wiggling your eyebrows mischievously at him. He shifts forward slightly to combat your ferocious eyebrow wiggling, one of the flowers tucked into his hair that you’d now ruined falling out and into the ground.

A loud laugh escapes your mouth before your hand slaps over it, a bit of the sound slipping out from between your fingers. Anakin eyes you suspiciously as you continue to snigger, which only makes you laugh more. When you eventually are able to catch your breath and regain some composure, a wide smile is still prominent on your face.

“Now it’s my turn to ask: what?” He declares, to which you pluck one of the flowers from his hair and twirl it in front of his face.

“This morning, when we called Master Kenobi? These were still in your hair. Pretty prominently, too.” You grin at him, expecting his eyes to grow wide as you point out this fact, but he nearly smirks, leaning his head back against the tree trunk and shrugging.

“Eh, he’s probably forgotten how to be surprised by me. I’ve done worse around him. Jumped out of a speeder he was driving in the high levels of Coruscant, once.”

“What?”  

Chapter Text

Anakin shrugs in a nonchalant manner at your exclamation, as if he hadn’t just said he’d willingly decided to plummet through life threatening traffic. You shove his shoulder playfully at his antics, and he shoots you a confused look.

“‘Oh yeah, I just fucking leaped to my death. No biggie,’” you say, scrounging up your deepest voice in imitation of him. He shakes his head in mock offense.

“I feel like your impression of me has gotten worse. And I’m not dead!”

“Obviously. I think ghosts aren’t into hair tugging as much as someone I know,” you remark, smirking mischievously in his direction. He perks up at hearing this, raising an eyebrow in response to your reference.

“If you keep at it, I will have to ravish you right here in the forest. Fair warning.”

You stare at him for a second in silence, then snort abruptly, your cheeks filling with air as you hold in a burst of laughter.

“Ravish?” You ask in shock, staring at him with a pointed look.

“What?”

“Think it over, Anakin.”

He pauses, scowling when he realizes what you’re saying.

“It’s the first word that I thought of!” He huffs, trying to portray annoyance, but you can see the amused glint in his eyes.

“Out of all of the words that translate to sex in some way, shape or form in Basic, you chose, for this specific moment, the word ravish?”

“What do you want me to say? Intercourse?”

“No, no!” You giggle at his expression, his jaw dropped in incredulity. “I just feel like I should be a hapless maiden right now.”

Anakin rolls his eyes at you, obviously about to say something snarky, when you cut him off by placing the back of your hand against your forehead, raising the pitch and changing the accent of your voice.

“Good sir, I feel so faint! I fear I may—“

You cut yourself off, gasping over dramatically and collapsing into Anakin’s lap like some kind of holo soap opera character. He groans in exasperation, and you open your eyes to grin up at him.

“You know, I would have expected you to be nicer once we got past the whole loathing stage,” he says, adjusting your placement on his lap so that your head lies on his knee. Ever the gentleman, he is.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You respond, reaching up to pluck a flower out of his hair and twirl it between the pads of your fingers. He, too, plucks a few flowers from his hair, bending their stems slightly and starting to manoeuvre them into your own locks.

You sit there in silence for a moment, Anakin softly embedding the flowers in strands of your hair as you twirl the one in your fingers, placing it in your line of sight so that it covers certain parts of the tree tops and looks out of proportion in comparison. Anakin’s fingers pause, and you glance up at him, shifting your hand and squinting one eye closed so that the flower’s petals cover one half of his face from your point of view.

He smiles at you softly, then leans down so that his face covers the tree canopy that you had previously been staring at. His visage has this gentle warmth resting in his features, it pooling the most in his eyes.

“I’d like to kiss you again.” He announces, to which you stop spinning the stem in your hand. You smirk up at him, crooking a finger at him to tell him to come closer. He leans lower in a slow manner, and you gingerly slide your hands onto his shoulders to encourage him. He cups the back of your head with his hand to give you support, then leans down fully to initiate the kiss.

This one feels… different.

In this kiss, it feels like the only two people on the planet—no, in the galaxy—are you and Anakin. And it’s so tender. There’s an abundance of restrained passion behind it, and yet it still has this strange… warmth. Of course, you’re able to feel Anakin’s body radiating heat even through your robes, but it’s not just that. It’s like you can actually feel the fondness pouring from out of him and into you. Like a waterfall of liquid lust and affection seeping into your skin.

You want to touch him. Stars, you want to do more than that, actually. You want to see how warm the golden expanse of his chest would be. To trace every single line of his body and commit it to memory. To kiss your way down from his mouth and continue slowly until you’re achingly close to where he wants you. To see his brows knit together in an expression of ecstasy when you finally give in to his pleas. Maker, even just thinking about it makes you feel more desperate.

But when you open your mouth more in a sudden, eager hunger to deepen the kiss, Anakin pulls back, lips twitching as he obviously tries to suppress a smirk. Try being the key word in this scenario.

“You do realize that we’re in a public space,” he teases, using the same hand gestures that you used a few minutes earlier. Of course he’s pulling a you on you, though you do realize that you were getting more than a bit carried away, and it’s a good thing he was the one with self control that time. Though you’d never admit that when he has that stupid, arrogant expression practically glued onto him right now.

Rolling your eyes at him, you slump your head back onto his knee with enough force that he wobbles in his seat. 

“I’m gonna find a way to wipe that smirk off of your face some way or another,” you say, turning your face towards him in a silent dare for him to say a smartass remark in retaliation to you. Needless to say, he shoots a response right back.

“I’d like to see you try.” The smug smirk upon his face grows with his statement. Your brain already begins to work in trying to come up with ideas to retaliate against him in less than innocent ways, but you try to distract yourself by poking fun at him.

“Of course you would, perv.” You shoot back, prodding him in the arm with your pointer finger in a quick tease at him. After doing so, you quickly hoist yourself up and off of his lap, dusting off your robes of the little strands of grass and dirt that had collected on them. If you had lain there any longer, you’re almost sure you would have straddled him right then and there. Public space and all be damned.

Anakin puts a defensive hand in the air, chuckling as he answers. “Woah woah woah, I’m the pervert? Who’s the one who decided to bite my earlobe at the club?”

You gasp in mock offense, placing a hand over your heart in an appalled manner.

“Jackooff—“ You snort out laughing at the casual mention of his name. “He was right in front of us! What was I supposed to do? High five you? Imagine what—“

You’re rudely interrupted by the distant sound of your name being called, quickly followed by a shout of Anakin’s. You’re unable to decipher just whose voice it is due to how far away they are from you, but they’re definitely asking for you and Anakin to come out of your hiding place and retrieve you like Delores had said she would do.

You slowly turn your head towards Anakin, and the two of you lock eyes, grinning like idiots at one another.

“I think that’s our cue,” he whispers to you, standing up and reaching his hand down in a polite gesture to help you up. You take it, hurling yourself upwards and practically springing into place once you’re finally in a standing position.

“What makes you say that? Was it our names being—”

Your sarcastic whisper is cut abruptly short by the sight of Anakin moving the hand of yours he still has a grip on and shifting it upwards to his mouth, slowly giving your knuckles a chaste kiss before letting your hand drop by your side, and you swear your heart stops beating for a moment.

“Time to go,” Anakin states in an innocent manner, looking curiously at you as your brain stammers to translate his words because fuck. A smug look appears on his behalf when he sees how short circuited you are, and he waves his hand in front of your face as if checking to see if you’re still alive. “Is this you surprised? I think I like it.”

This, of course, earns him a scowl on your end.

“You are so…” You try to come up with an insult to jab at him, but end up with nothing popping up in your head. In lieu of an insult, you make an exasperated grunting noise and wave your hands in his direction, turning around afterwards to head towards the voice calling you. When you hear Anakin beginning to snicker behind you, you snap your head in his direction and rush over to silence him, as he’s being incredibly loud and you don’t want any of the girls to get the wrong idea. Or, well… the right idea.

“Shut up!” You whisper yell at him, putting your pointer finger over your lips to double down on your order. He only continues to giggle at seeing you do this, and it seems to be slightly contagious. You place both of your hands over your mouth to stifle your laughter, but when you look up at Anakin’s face again, his crinkled eyes and red face make you erupt into another fit. Maker, you need to get your fucking act together.

“We… Stop it. Stop smiling.” Anakin pulls his mouth into an over dramatic frown, and you scoff at him. 

“What is it, sarge?” He asks, using the voice that you’ve heard him utilize when he’s speaking to members of the Council.

“Sarge? A few days ago you called me ‘little one.’ I must be growing on you.” He opens his mouth to make what you predict to be another smartass remark, and you place your finger on his lips to shush him. “We have to go!”

“Alright, alright.” He responds, resigning himself to a small grin.

“I’ll leave first so that we don’t look suspicious.”

“Someone’s taking precautions.”

“Well, it probably wouldn’t be a good thing if Lisha or someone figured out we were smashing faces over here, huh?”

“‘Smashing faces?’ And you made fun of me for saying ‘ravish?’”  

Oh no he doesn’t.

“You do remember that I’m still more than capable of beating your ass, right?”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Want to prove that?”

You and Anakin’s names are distantly called once more, and he cocks his head at you in an intrigued manner, almost like a bird. Raising an eyebrow, you cross your arms and look up at him, half expecting him to start grinning and laughing to himself, but he continues to wait for you to say something back. You pause before you answer, looking over his features with suspicious eyes, then decide to go along with whatever he has planned.

You run a light finger from his chest all the way up to his chin, his eyes following your hand on its journey. You tilt his chin up softly with your finger as you respond, and when your voice comes out, it’s more hoarse than you would have expected.

“Sparring match?”

“Before dinner?”

His eagerness makes you gulp, and you take a slow step away from him, turning around towards the fauna that you had trudged through before and trying to even out your breathing. Before you step into the grass, however, you look over your shoulder, seeing him still standing behind you expectantly, and stare back at him as you answer.

“You’re on.”

When you finally step through the tall grass and are out of Anakin’s sight, you notice that a light sheen of sweat has appeared at the nape of your neck, and that your breathing is heavier than it had been just a couple of minutes before. And that you’re also smiling to yourself. Damn that man. What was he doing to you?

As you part the foliage with your hands and forge your path through the stalks, you take a moment to clear your head and take a soft inhale, calming your mind and opening yourself up to regular conversation once more. Regular as in speaking with someone who’s bones you don’t want to jump.

For a moment you’re afraid that you’ve gotten lost in the grass, but are then able to spot the small purple mushrooms from earlier which reassure you that you’re on the right path. The afternoon sun is bright in your eyes when you emerge from the forest, and you wince, shadowing your eyes with the palm of your hand and continuing onward.

There’s a green skinned girl walking around in the distance ahead of you, and when you squint your eyes, you can just barely make out the outline of Zarl’a’s outfit and harsh features. It’s obvious that she’s still searching for you and Anakin, so you cup your hands beside your mouth to amplify your voice and shout to her.

“Zarl’a! Over here!”

Her head snaps around in your direction, and the look of relief on her face when she spots you is evident even from this distance. She turns her full body towards you and speeds over, her back legs giving her a boost of speed that causes a light breeze to whistle on your head from its force when she comes to an abrupt stop directly in front of you.

“Thank the Maker! I thought the two of you had gotten lost. That would have been a whole big thing, let me tell you…” She trails off, looking to your left, to your right and then behind you before setting her gaze suspiciously back on you. “Where’s the other one?”

“Interesting choice of words,” you chuckle, watching her huff to herself at your response. “He went a bit further than me. He’s gotta be around here somewhere…”

To your right, you hear a strangled yelping sound paired with a loud stomp of a boot against solid ground. When you turn towards the source of said noise’s direction, you find Anakin to be standing haphazardly a few feet away from you, arms outstretched as if to balance himself and glaring daggers at a tree root in the grass behind him.

“The pinnacle of elegance,” you say to him, voice deadpan.

“Thanks,” he responds, tone matching your own as he straightens his vest. You grin at each other for a quick moment, then turn to Zarl’a to see what she has to say.

“Now that both of you are here, I can explain the absolute fucking insanity that happened earlier.” Zarl’a reaches up to her eyes to rub them with her fingers, but pauses halfway when she remembers that she’s wearing makeup. You feel a small weight of guilt in your stomach for having just had such a wonderful time with Anakin whilst the girls were dealing with the shitstorm that was Montgomery, but attempt to push it to the side. “Just follow along while I talk, yeah?”

She starts to walk ahead towards a distant cluster of giant treehouses almost immediately after she poses this suggestion, and you and Anakin have to scurry to keep up.

“So, you’re probably wondering why Montgomery was going bantha balls crazy earlier, right?” She asks, glancing over her shoulder at the pair of you jogging behind her.

“The thought has crossed my mind, yes,” Anakin responds, chuckling to himself at his own remark. Laser brain.

“Well, we don’t actually know yet. He’s super sedated right now.” She pauses for a moment to let you catch up, then resumes walking at a slower pace. “But what we do know is that he had a stupid amount of Dregmyne spores in his bloodstream.” She pauses for a second, clicking her tongue in thought. “…Which you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Give us a rundown.” You nod at her, asking her to continue. She continues promptly.

“Dregmyne is this species of flower—super big, mind you. And colorful. You can’t miss ‘em when you see ‘em—that has some weird stuff going on inside of its pollen. We’ve never done much thorough research on it because it’s never been too big of a problem, but we do know that its effects when ingested or touched in any way tend to be really hallucinogenic. As in, the sky and the ground have swapped types of hallucinations.”

“Wouldn’t he have known not to go near any Dregmyne, though? Since he grew up here?” You ask, warily scanning your surroundings for any huge, neon flowers before you can help it.

“You’d think so,” Anakin adds, eyeing another exposed root on the ground and overdramatically stepping over and away from it.

“Well, that’s the other thing. You saw his stump that used to be a leg, right? I’d think that’d be a tiny bit distracting when you’re in the middle of running away from battle. He probably ran face first into one on accident and was high as hell by the time he got here.” Zarl’a announces, turning right when you begin to near the treehouses. These ones look different from the ones you and Anakin are staying in, though. From what you’re able to see at this distance, they have a more natural shape and a bunch of paint everywhere on their outer walls.

“Anyway, that’s why I’m taking you guys over here. This is the, uh… Crap. What’s a word for it in Basic?” She gestures upward at the largest treehouse, flailing her arms wildly in the air as she tries to think of the right word. After a few seconds, she sighs exasperatedly, giving up on her efforts. “Basically, this is the place where we all meet up when there’s something serious to talk about. Also to just check up on each other every now and then. You know how it goes.”

Actually, you don’t. The Jedi Order basically tells you to just ‘go away and meditate on it’ if you have a problem. Here’s yet another thing that the Order could do some good with implementing.

Zarl’a stands at the base of the tree for a moment, mumbling to herself and looking down at her legs, before turning around to face you and Anakin, outstretching her arms and wiggling her fingers at you both to beckon you forth.

“Grab on, you two. This isn’t a tourist area, so there’s no elevator.”

Anakin’s expression snaps to one of amusement, his eyes flicking over the distance between the ground and the house above your heads. Your own face probably has the exact same look of glee written all over it, because the last time you did this was absolutely fantastic.

Zarl’a beckons you over to her again, and this time you step beside her, lifting your arms up slightly so that she can slip a long arm around your waist and grip it tightly, reminding you of a living, breathing seatbelt. She does the same for Anakin, who had stepped over around a second after you.

As soon as she deems you both secure in her grasp, Zarl’a crouches low towards the ground and then jumps upward as far as her long hind legs can take her, bringing you just below the tree canopy and around fifty feet above the platform in front of the treehouse you're meant to be heading to.

“Overestimated!” Zarl’a shouts, sticking out her tongue in concentration as she tilts her body in the direction of the platform below. When you begin to fall, your breath hitches in your throat and you lock your mouth shut because so help the Maker you are not going to scream right now. You’re not dying. Zarl’a’s quite literally gripping onto you.

The three of you land on the platform with a loud thud, the bridges surrounding it visibly wobbling back and forth from your impact. Solskians must have a hell of a thing for architecture, because the shaking comes to a stop a few seconds later, the wood not even showing a hint of degraded structural integrity. They really know their wood, huh?

Zarl’a releases her grasp on you and Anakin’s waists, and you stumble forward, massaging the spot where she had held onto you and at the pinching sensation from being clutched so tight. That time… wasn’t as fun.

Zarl’a sees both you and Anakin wincing at the marks that she had left on your bodies, and instantly begins to apologize. “Sorry sorry sorry! I’m not used to holding two people. Extra weight was weird to jump with. I mean, better than you falling, right?” She nudges you with her elbow, and you chuckle, nodding your head in agreement with her. The guilt on her face lessens when she sees that you’re not ragingly upset, and she turns around, stepping towards the large double doors in front of you three.

Its outside has the same shape as the huge tree, bulbous in some areas and thinning out towards the top. There’s some carved out windows on the sides here and there with some sheer orange curtains, and there’s a sign nailed above the two entryway doors with the room’s name written in Solskian. The door and window panes themselves have little pieces of stained glass strewn throughout their surfaces, which are catching the sun quite nicely and creating little multicolored patches of light across the floor and the walls.

“This is basically the Council Chamber for them, right?” Anakin leans in to ask you as you follow Zarl’a to the doors. She opens one of them, holding it in its position to allow you and Anakin to come inside.

“I think so?” You respond, your voice giving away the unsurety of your response. Anakin snorts quietly at your side, and if you weren’t about to head into a room filled with all of the girls, you’d elbow him in the ribs. 

When you step closer to the open doorway, you’re suddenly blasted with the buzz of several different conversations happening at once streaming from the girls inside of the room. When the ones at the front see you and Anakin, they nod at you in acknowledgment, then turn back to continue their conversations. Zarl’a closes the door behind you and Anakin when you’re fully in the room, then walks ahead of the two of and into the crowd, practically disappearing in their midst.

Pretty much everyone in the room is standing, though there’s comfortable looking seats hanging from the ceiling near the walls. Strings of multi-colored lights frame a sort of stage at the back wall, trailing all the way up to wrap around a small, wooden podium in its middle. One of the windows is open as a girl with a studded denim jacket smokes what looks to be some kind of leaf rolled cigarette, and music with Solskian lyrics plays softly in the background. You have the strange sensation that you’re intruding on something personal, and when you turn to Anakin, you find him raising his brow in discomfort the same as you.

A head starts moving through the crowd and towards the tiny stage, and when the body attached to it pushes through and onto the platform, you find it to be Delores. She’s changed clothes since the last you saw her, now wearing a flowy, soft looking garment secured by a belt at her waist. There’s a tiny splotch of blood on her cheek, and you put two and two together and infer that it’s Montgomery’s. The crowd around you dies down and turns towards Delores, some girls deciding to now take a seat or lean against the wall, and the girl who had been smoking earlier puts out her cigarette.

“Alright. I think now’s as good a time as any to talk about what just happened,” she says, placing both of her hands on the edge of the podium and taking a shaky breath. You tap Anakin on the arm, signaling for him to come with you to lean against a wall and listen to Eleanor speak. She laughs to herself as she addresses the crowd again.

“Now, you all know how much I hate public speech…“ A chuckle comes from the crowd, along with a few shouts of support, and Delores smiles. “Thank you. Now, once again, you all know that I’m not a fan of talking to crowds. I usually like to leave that to my actors. Which means you know how concerned  I am about this whole situation.”

“A male Solskian has not set foot in our forest for seven years, ladies. Oh, and one gentleman.” She nods in Anakin’s direction, and he looks down at the floor, his face turning a dark shade of pink. “And now, out of the blue, one comes barrelling into our lives without warning. An injured, erratic one at that.” She takes another breath, shaking her head as if to get rid of nervous jitters. “Alright. Now that we all know what this gathering is about, would anyone like to speak of what they think about this situation? Multiple viewpoints are always helpful in stressful times.”

Delores steps to the side of the podium, gesturing vaguely towards those closest to her. Her eyes light up when she sees someone heading in her direction, and she steps off of the stage to instead sit on its edge and let the girl with the facial piercings you’ve seen around the forest have her turn to speak.

“First off, I’m gonna say what we’ve all been thinking. What the fuck?” She states, huffing to herself. Then a sudden look of worry appears on her face. “Wait, the kids are outside, right?”

“Yvonne’s taking care of them,” Delores reassures with a chuckle. “Curse all you’d like, Victorine.” 

Victorine grins, shaking her head before speaking again. “I mean, what was Montgomery even thinking? That he’d just waltz in here—higher than all hell, mind you—and start freaking out like a fucking crazy person? Sorry about that, by the way.” She poses her apology at you and Anakin, which he grins at and you wave off.

A hand in the middle of the group of people shoots up, waving around energetically. Victorine blinks at it for a moment before shrugging, outstretching her arm to invite it onstage.

“Come on up, Stedda. That’s all I had to say, anyways.” The girl who clambers onto the platform to talk next you remember as orange leather jacket girl, and you take note to yourself of her name.

Stedda clears her throat once she’s up, looking over the crowd with an amused expression while fiddling with one of the strings of lights with her finger.

“Why is this being considered a serious topic in the first place?” She poses, leaning on the podium casually. “I mean, doesn’t Montgomery being here just mean that he got out? That he was able to get away from the war? This is a good thing! We shouldn’t be doing any of this straight faced solemn crap.” Your eyes spot Zarl’a sitting in a plush chair a few feet away from the stage, smirking up affectionately at Stedda. “So, my point is: why are making this a big thing? He’s here, for fuck’s sake! That’s all that matters. Let’s just bake him a cake or some shit and drop the subject. Done.”

Delores visibly ponders the idea for a moment, then shrugs, nodding her head in agreement.

“Does anyone remember what flavor is his favorite?” Delores asks generally, sparking a sudden uproar of different types of berries and spices being shouted at her. She starts speaking to a cluster of girls that gather around her, and the rest of the room starts to go back to their individual conversations. Apparently, the official meeting was over.

You turn in Anakin’s direction once more, leaning one shoulder against the wood at your side. You open your mouth to say something, but then spot a section of his robes around his neck that had gotten rumpled in your previous activities back in the forest.

“You, uh… Come here,” you whisper, grinning cheekily at him. He gives you a suspicious glance, but steps forward, letting you adjust his robes so that he no longer looks like a rumpled mess. “Some really irresponsible person messed up your robes. Fixed it for you, though.” He chuckles at your sarcasm.

“How kind of you,” he shoots back, adjusting his robes around his front and leaning against the wall along with you, his tone shifting to one of more seriousness. “Do you think Montgomery’s showing up here is a problem?”

“I don’t know. I hope that he wasn’t being followed by anyone. I can’t really sense anything on this planet, though. Too many signals going on at once.”

He sighs, running a tongue over his teeth. “Yeah, I can’t either. I suppose all we can do is be on the lookout for anything suspicious that might pop up.”

“I guess that’s all we can do for right now. I feel like they’re being a bit too dismissive about this whole situation, though.” You both glance at the crowd next to you, then look back at each other.

“We’ll just have to babysit, then,” he says, crossing his arms to get more comfortable.

“Alright. But do know that if the entire Solskian army comes running out of that forest, I'll still be pretty fucking surprised.”  You both snicker at this, you covering your mouth with your hand to make it less obvious. 

To your left, Delores’ familiar flowy dress is approaching the pair of you, and you leave your place against the wall to face her normally. She’s murmuring quiet excuse me’s to the people that she’s currently struggling to push by, and when she finally reaches you and Anakin, she’s partially out of breath.

“Hello,” she says breathlessly, placing her hands on her hips and taking a gulp of air. You bite your tongue to stop from smiling, and she puts a finger up in front of her to signal you both to hold on for a second. When she looks up again, she’s composed once more. 

“Sorry about that. The girls are a force to get past.” Someone calls her name behind her, and she looks over her shoulder, then back at you. “I just came over to assure you both that Montgomery’s episode wasn’t your fault. Somehow, the idiot inhaled a huge amount of Dregmyne, and he was behaving ridiculously because of it. Oh, and in case you’re thinking of trying it? I did, once, and trust me: it does not bode over well.” She adds in the last part with a warning glance at you and Anakin, as if you had been planning to leap out of the windows and snort some of the plant’s pollen as soon as she stopped talking to you.

“I’ll keep that in mind, then,” you tell her, trying to keep your tone serious. She runs a hand down her face and sighs contentedly, looking over her shoulder again.

“That’s really all I wanted to say. I just wanted to make sure you both weren’t worried you’d done something wrong.” She then flashes a smile at you and waves goodbye so quickly that you have to take a moment to register that she left, heading in the direction of the from earlier. She’s always busy, it seems.

“Delores reminds me a bit of my mom,” Anakin says abruptly, his tone absent minded as he stares off at Delores retreating into the throng of people. You do a double take in his direction, having barely ever heard anything about his past and being well surprised at him bringing it up.

“What was her name?” You ask softly, taking a step closer to him. His lips tighten, and he stares down at the floor beneath him.

“Shmi,” he whispers, eyes elsewhere. It looks like he’s thinking over saying something important to you, but you can see the moment when his eyes harden and he decides to not share anything else. “Not much use to talk about her anymore though.”

You place a gentle hand on his arm, and he looks up at you nervously.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about her,” you affirm, smiling softly at him. “It’s hard to think about mine, too. We don’t have to talk about them if you don’t feel like it.”

You can feel the muscles beneath your fingers release the tension you hadn’t known they’d been holding beforehand, and he closes his eyes, resting his head against the wall. He exhales, discreetly reaching his hand towards the one you have placed on his arm and giving it a light squeeze. The long sleeve of his robe covers your fingers, but when the two of you spot Josiquinn looking at you both from across the room, you instantly separate, not wanting to arouse suspicion.

“Is it over yet?” A sudden, lispy voice to your left says, its pitch high and its words tentative. When you turn to see who was speaking, you find Theresa peeking her head through one of the now open doors, glancing around with wide eyes. “I’m not allowed to come to a meeting ‘til I’m fifteen,” she clarifies, taking a tiny step over the threshold.

You laugh, gesturing to her to come inside of the room. “Yeah, I think we’re all finished up here.”

Chapter Text

Theresa smiles back in a mischievous manner, then darts her eyes to an unknown person, staring at them as she nods her head to the side. When nothing happens in response to this, she sighs, a hint of irritation creeping in at the edge of her voice.

“That means you can come in now, Kika.”

There’s a small thumping noise on the other side of the wall from where you’re standing, then another, followed by groans of frustration and a loud, childlike voice saying ow! sounding off into your ears. A little girl comes stumbling in through the doorway while simultaneously rubbing her elbow, the skin already beginning to bruise a slightly darker shade of green than the skin around it already is. She dons what looks to be a tan dress that goes down to her first set of leg’s knees adorned with brown, spiraling embroidery from bottom to top.

Behind Kika is a group of smaller girls that enter the room in a frantic manner, practically tripping over themselves in order to get through the door. One of them takes a peek out of the side of the doorway, gasps, then waves her hands frantically towards the rest of her group. They proceed to all try and hide themselves behind you and Anakin. They cling to the two of your’s robes while attempting to maneuver themselves to blend in with their surroundings, but are bickering the entire time and therefore making their attempts moot.

Faint but strong footsteps can be heard in the distance, likely approaching from one of the many bridges that span the canopy of the forest. One of the girls is desperately trying to stand in the exact way that Anakin is so that she can stay invisible to whatever she’s hiding from, but the rather large second pair of legs sticking out from her sides makes her less than invisible, making Anakin look like he, too was Solskian if you looked at him directly from the front.

“Well hello to you, too,” Anakin says, his eyes crinkling in amusement as the girl behind him continues to shuffle around. You chuckle to yourself, then wince as your toe is promptly stomped on by one of the many children around you trying to hide.

“Are you guys supposed to be here right now?” You ask suspiciously, craning your neck behind you to give Theresa a skeptic side eye along with the several other women in the room who had just noticed them as the footsteps get louder. She pretends that she didn't hear you, looking up at the ceiling with an innocent expression plastered on her face. You sigh, smiling to yourself, then step out of the doorway and onto the porch outside to see who was approaching the room, albeit to much protest by the little ones. In the distance, you can see Yvonne bent over on her knees, catching her breath for a moment in a short break from the running she had been doing before.

“They tie you up again?” A girl wearing neon green fishnets and a whole heap of rings yells out to Yvonne, sticking part of her head out of a tiny slat in the wall that was just big enough to be called a window. Yvonne shoots a glare over at the girl, and she giggles.

“Those—“ Yvonne stops, coughs and leans on her knees for a moment, then continues, “—Little—“ she makes a frustrated noise as she trips slightly on an uneven plank of wood, “A’shantes!”

“Language!” Delores says out of the open doorway before she herds the children away from you and Anakin, pointing towards the corner of the room with the energy of a guard whooshing her prisoners back into order. You’d think the children had somehow contracted a form of amnesia within the last minute in the way they listened to Delores with the obedience they had lacked just moments before, even if you could see the furious pouting raging within their eyes as they listened.

“Yvonne!” Delores shouts, a sharpness to the edge of her voice as she gestures wildly to the hoard of children now in front of her as they stand outside. You lean against the doorway to try and inconspicuously get a better view of the situation, and Anakin snorts.

“It’s free entertainment!” You say, a weak attempt at defending your interest in gossip. Deciding on a different tactic, you pretend to examine your nails in a snobbish manner and put on an over-the-top fancy voice to say, “I suppose minds like yours are simply not capable of enjoying it.”

Anakin raises an eyebrow and takes a step towards you, biting his tongue as he smiles. “I’m capable of enjoying a lot of things, actually,” he says, eyes darting around your face. “Things like finding out you’re nosy, for one.”

“Oh please. I’m staying alert of what’s going on around us, is all.”

You roll your eyes before snapping them over to the clamoring of Delores and the children again, spotting in your peripheral vision Anakin smugly positioning himself against the opposite side of the doorway from you. 

“Sounds like being nosy to me.”

“Watching someone being nosy could be considered a nosy thing in and of itself, you know.”

“Woahwoahwoah, don’t try to flip this on me now.”

“It’s been flipped,” you say, deadpan. He snickers quietly, while you try and hold a serious, blank face directed at him for effect, but your upper lip starts quivering as you try and hold in your own laugh.

“Delores!” Yvonne says when she finally arrives, her tone a bit too sweet for the moment. She definitely knows she fucked up. “I, uh…” she gestures to the group of girls sulking at Delores’ side, “I had it all covered. We were just playing tag and it got a little out of hand, right girls?” Her teeth are gritted as she eyeballs the children with an evil, threatening glint in her eyes, and all of them nod in fearful unison.

Delores raises a skeptical brow, placing a hand on her hip. “Tag?”

Yvonne shifts uncomfortably in her stance, placing her hands in the large pockets of her skirt.

“You know… one person runs after the others and tries to tag them—“

“I know what tag is, Yvonne,” Delores interjects.

“…Right.”

Delores sighs, rubbing her forehead in a disappointed manner. Even so, you can see a hint of a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

“I’m going to give you a pass for this because it’s only your second time looking after them,” Delores states, taking a step towards Yvonne with her hands clasped behind her back. “But you know that this is a matter of safety. We wouldn’t want any of you getting hurt.” She glances around at the children again before turning her attention back to Yvonne.

“I know, I know,” she responds, sighing. “My bad.”

Delores smirks in amusement at Yvonne’s reaction, but it quickly fades away as she remembers what she was saying. She lifts her hand to give a light, affectionate pat on the younger girl’s shoulder, then turns toward the group of girls again, crossing her arms.

“If you little hellions decide to try this stunt again, I’m going to get Beety to watch you,” she says, a threatening tone at the edge of her voice. The little ones’ eyes widen with terror, Theresa audibly gulping. What seems to be the youngest of the bunch even starts sniffling dramatically in response. Who the hell was Beety? “Am I understood?”

The children nod their heads furiously, voicing their assent at the same time. Delores then finally lets out a small laugh, breaking through the maternal persona she had just put up.

“What did they even do to you this time, Yvonne?” Delores asks, eyes crinkling as she smiles. Yvonne sighs overdramatically, giving a surprisingly impressive stink eye to the girls behind Delores, and starts to list off items on their devious little plan one by one. At this point, your attention span begins to focus on other things.

Lifting yourself off of the wall, you step past Anakin, who was now ironically focused on Delores and Yvonne’s conversation, to go and ask the girl who had yelled through the window earlier about the woman that Delores had threatened the children with. Though you don’t let the chance to elbow Anakin in the ribs so that he looks over to see you whisper hypocrite at him pass you by. He opens his mouth as if to come back with a sarcastic remark, but decides otherwise, closing it to grin at you, then facing back towards his gossip.

The window lady from earlier was now talking to Victorine, so you step a few paces next to them and wait for a pause in their conversation for you to try and join in. The two instead, however, stop talking almost immediately when they see you standing next to them, looking at you expectantly. Surprised at their abruptness, you stammer a bit.

“Oh, no! There’s… There isn’t, um… You can finish your conversation. It’s not important.” 

“You thought we were just going to let you stand there?” Victorine says, smiling warmly. “Nisona and I were literally just arguing about what we wanted to cook for dinner tonight, so…”

“Montgomery loves Pironga meat. It was his favorite before he left. Which means it would make sense to make it for him, right?” You nod passively, having no idea what a Pironga was, but deciding that you agree with her. Nisona waves her hands wildly at Victorine, as if your agreement was some sort of turning point for her. “See, Vick! You’re crazy.”

“His tastes might have changed, dipshit! All I’m saying is that we should… I dunno, ask him what he wants?”

“Hm… ‘Ask the unconscious man what he wants.’ Ingenious!”

“Shut up! You know what I meant. One of us could try and do a little Force exploring, see what his new tastes are.”

“Would you want to walk through that little perv’s brain?”

There’s a beat of silence, then they giggle, pointing at one another as if something about the other person is making them laugh even more. You stand there with a small, awkward smile, wondering if you should just walk away and let them be, but they begin to calm down right before any method of slipping away could be used.

Breathing heavily, Nisona wipes a tear from her eye, then turns towards you again. “Okay, what were you saying?”

“Well, I was just wondering… When I may or may not have been eavesdropping earlier,” Nisona smirks at this, “Delores mentioned ‘Beety’ like it was some kind of threat. What’s the story behind that?”

“Maker, even mentioning Beety really is a threat in itself. She’s fucking terrifying,” Victorine cuts in, shaking her head.

“She’s the oldest of all of us here,” Nisona remarks, flicking a piece of lint off of her shorts. “She has really bad arthritis, which is why she isn’t up here with us; it hurts her legs to jump. So she stays in a little ground-level cottage that’s near our theater we use for Delores’ plays.”

“Legend has it she’s the oldest Solskian to ever have lived,” Victorine says, whispering as if she was spilling some huge secret to you. Nisona shushes her, rolling her eyes.

“Anyways, everyone’s scared of her because she carries around this huge cane that she smacks anyone who does something she doesn’t like with, which is… pretty much anyone. She’s half blind, but that doesn't mean you should underestimate her accuracy. It’s insane.”

“She also yells. Constantly.” Victorine shivers, staring off into space with a morbid expression.

“That’s because you always break something when you’re over there!” Nisona states, to which she gets a scowl from Victorine in return. “We all take shifts taking care of her every week. There’s some things that she can’t do herself; washing clothes, cooking, etcetera.”

“She’s practically a pile of dust. Angry, grumpy, violent dust.”

“I heard that!” Delores shouts, poking her head in through the doorway. “Beety is a wonderful woman, Victorine. She just… dislikes you for some reason.”

“Hey!” Victorine yells back, offended. She storms over to Delores with Nisona following close behind, giggling. You’re left alone along a wall of the room next to a plush chair with one too many pillows thrown on its seat, a small table holding several plants and a large lamp with fringe around its shade. 

Everyone looked to be participating in either lively conversation with one another or planning out Montgomery’s party. So, knowing that you don’t want to interrupt anyone else’s tête à tête, you attempt to sit down on the armchair, multitudes of pillows falling off of its side and into the abyss of the hardwood floor in the process.

“Shit!” You mumble under your breath, scurrying to gather all that fell and holding five in your arms while also keeping one pinned to your chest by your chin when you spot Theresa headed towards you. In an attempt to waggle a finger in hello to her, you drop one of the pillows, which she promptly picks up when she reaches you, placing it neatly at the top of your stack. Afterwards, she seems uncharacteristically shy, looking down and avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t think that chair was ever actually meant to be used,” you joke, testing the waters of Theresa’s newfound demeanor and seeing if you can figure out its source. She smiles a bit, then shifts her weight between her feet as if she were nervous.

“Is everything okay?” You ask her, tilting your head in concern. She mumbles something, but it’s so incoherent that you aren’t able to make out a word. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said that if you— onlyifyouwantto,” she adds, her words blurring together by how fast she’s talking, “—If you want to come and see my costume for the play that we were talking about earlier… I’d be okay with that.” She finishes with a curt nod, then starts fidgeting with her hands as she waits for you to say something. You giggle a bit at her nervousness, but then explain yourself immediately upon seeing the sudden surprise in her eyes.

“Of course I’ll come! You don’t have to be nervous, Theresa. It’s not like you’re asking me to marry you or something,” you say, play-punching her arm to make her feel more at ease.

“I know that!” She smiles at you and giggles too, although a bit sheepishly. “I just get nervous, because… Y’know… you’re cool.”

“Who’s your source?” You inquire, raising a conspiratorial eyebrow and leaning down to be more at eye level with her. “I can’t have people sharing my secrets, now.” She rolls her eyes playfully at you, giggling once again. 

“It’s a secret.”

“Wow, taking a page from my own book?” You ask dramatically, taking an over the top inhale. “I thought we were friends. I may never be able to trust again.”

“We are!” She responds, seeming slightly worried. You drop the act, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I’m just joking, Theresa,” you say with a barely concealed smile, to which she huffs with fake indignation.

“You scared me! I don’t get tones sometimes, so I thought you were being serious,” she says, shaking her head. In the midst of this, her eyes suddenly light up with realization, and without a moment’s hesitation, she abruptly turns around and scurries away into the crowd. You stand there for a moment, blinking in reaction to her sudden departure, and then snort to yourself at her actions.

Left to your own devices once more and knowing better than to try and sit your ass down on the armchair behind you, you decide to take a few steps and stand in a nice corner until someone either talks to you, or the meeting ends. It wasn’t your most proud moment, per se, but sometimes being around too many people can get a bit overwhelming when you’re by yourself, which is why you try to always walk around Coruscant with at least one friend so you don’t drown in the noise. It was also fun to people-watch on your own at times, though; guessing what people were talking about based on their expressions always managed to make you giggle.

Across the room, a taller girl with tattoos along the side of her neck was talking to one of the children, both sporting lively expressions as they conversed with one another. With boredom at your side, you squint your eyes and put together a game of making up whatever conversation that they could be having. Deciding to go along the ridiculous route, you concoct a conversation between them where the two are planning for the kid’s first tattoo to be a giant penis right on her face. This conclusion forces you to laugh right into your hand so that you don’t look like a madwoman cackling in the corner, but the idea of you in the third person looking like that also seems to make your laughter increase.

“What’s so funny?” A voice close to your ear says, and your eyes snap open from your giggly gaze to see Anakin less than an arm’s length away from you, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face.

“Why do you want to know?” You shoot back, wiggling your eyebrows mischievously in his direction. Your face feels warm, and you can tell that you have a bit more colour to it than usual due to your previous chuckling.

Anakin jokingly puts his hands up, stepping a bit closer than he had been previously and lowering his voice as if telling you a secret. “I’m a man of curiosity, what can I say.”

“I’d hardly call you a man,” you respond, crossing your arms and turning to face him.

“Oh, really? What term would suit me better, then?”

You pretend to ponder his question seriously, then say, “A pain in the ass."

“So on all of my legal documents, under gender, the option I choose from now on will say ’pain in the ass?’”

You bite your lip to hold in a laugh and nod. He chuckles to himself, turning away from you and leaning his entire back against the wall but glancing over at you from the side to show you that he’s still paying attention. Fresh out of insults towards him, you move on to the topic you’d been speaking to each other about earlier.

“What’d you learn from the hot goss outside?” You ask, craning your head over what if the field you’re able to in order to see if there was still any commotion near the front. All of the commotion that you see, however, is the group of little girls all talking to Zarl’a at once, her head moving like a bottle head as she tries to address each of them. One of the kids points in your direction, nodding furiously.

Anakin sighs, shaking his head. “Nothing good. After you left, everyone seemed to be fine, unfortunately.”

“I guess that chaos only happens in my presence, then,” you apologize facetiously, to which he rolls his eyes. “But seriously? I can’t believe it. Anakin Skywalker, a fan of gossip? What a turn of events.”

“I guess I’m just drawn to chaos,” he retorts, looking in your direction once more with a smug smile. You huff, then take a few steps backwards, hands behind your back, to try and reach for a pillow from the chair. He looks at you curiously as you fiddle with the fabric of one of said pillows until you’re finally able to pick it up, then walk towards him with an innocent expression on your face.

“So you like chaos, huh?” You ask, lifting a playful brow. He returns the sentiment, then nods suspiciously.

Upon his confirmation, you take a firm hold of the pillow in your grasp and slam it to Anakin’s side, causing him to stumble a bit along the wall. He laughs from the depths of his stomach, barely deflecting any of your continued attacks with the deadly weapon you currently wield.

In a moment of absent-mindedness, however, you fail to notice Anakin reaching his fingers out behind you and Force-summoning a pillow of his own, proceeding to ambush you with his own bombardments. You squeal, covering your head with your pillow in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from his strikes.

“Um… Are— oh!” The voice of Theresa coming from behind Anakin prompts you both to stop your little duel immediately, Anakin freezing his hands mid-blow and turning around to look at her. You snigger behind his back.

“What’s up?” Anakin asks her, tucking his weapon under his arm. She shakes her head to clear the surprise at your battle from her expression before she speaks.

“I wanted to ask if you guys were ready to go,” she states, popping her back in a stretch. “We got Zarl’a to come with us, so Delores will definitely let us go now.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you were inviting the both of us,” you respond, stepping up to be side by side with Anakin.

“Hey, I’m just along for the ride, here,” he retorts, to which you pretend-smack him on the arm. “Where, exactly, will we be going?”

“The theater. All of us in the play wanna show you our costumes! You guys are gonna be the first actual audience I’ve ever had besides the people living here, so I wanna make sure you see everything.”

“Seize the opportunity,” you say, grinning down at Theresa. There’s a beat of silence after this, with Theresa simply staring at you both.

“So, are you guys ready, or…?”

“Oh! Yes,” both you and Anakin respond, you feeling a little stupid for having just stood there.

“Lead the way, captain.” Anakin straightens his back to stand at attention for her, and she titters. She jumps excitedly, grabbing Anakin’s hand, then hurriedly rushes through the crowd towards the door outside. Anakin laughs out loud, a wide grin plastered on his face as he tries to keep up with her. You walk behind them, waving at those you pass by, and smile to yourself at the thought of Anakin being herded out of the door by Theresa. She definitely has a little crush on him.

And, you think to yourself with a cheeky grin of your own as you continue to step forward, so do you.

Chapter Text

In the first few steps you took towards the exit, you’d been thinking that your journey to the theatre was to be fairly laid back. You’d glance around at those around you, do a few small waves, say hi in passing; the by and by. The closer you get to the door, however, as the music gets louder and everyone’s conversations join in with the white noise of the former, you come to realise that slipping between a crowd of adrenaline-high Solskian women would be no easy task.

You’ve never considered yourself to be a small person. In fact, you’ve never particularly put much thought into the idea of how big or small you were in comparison to others. Or comparison at all, really. Everyone is supposed to be different. That’s how genetics work. You’re not going to look at one of your Twi’lek fellow padawans and think damn, I wish I had lekku… because it was stupid. You’re a completely different species than them. And it always pulls a sympathetic mood from you when you hear people, no matter the age, comparing themselves to other humans and wishing they could look like them. You just want to grab those people by their shoulders and shake them to their senses shouting genetics! over and over again. Everyone is supposed to look different; if they didn’t, the galaxy would be boring!

With all that being said… You’d really enjoy being even just a smidgen bigger than you are right now while attempting to squeeze between women almost twice your size.

In your attempts at maneuvering yourself between people in the somehow more-tightly-packed than earlier room like some sort of rag doll, you accidentally bump into those that you pass by, being jostled with practically every step you take. It feels like you’ve attended an etiquette class with the amount of excuse me’s and sorry’s that you’ve said within the past minute.

In your slow journey towards the door, you see Zarl’a’s wide, outlined eyes snap themselves on you a few green heads away, their ends crinkling in amusement at your hobble towards the door. Excusing herself from her conversation, she pushes through people left and right with absolutely no care whatsoever in order to reach you.

“Here,” she states simply, grabbing onto your waist with a light touch and placing you on her back. You giggle at her, latching on to her shoulders while she glides through the other women in the room as if they were nothing to her. She pretends to trip once, to which you squeal at, but then she steadies herself while guffawing at your apprehension. You flick her on the shoulder.

Reaching the door, you close your eyes and take in the light, cool breeze seeping in from outside, realising for the first time how overstimulated you had actually been amongst all of the commotion and enjoying the feeling of sunlight on your face. You pause when Zarl’a crouches awkwardly in order to grab you from off of her back and set you on the ground, you in response trying to help her by shuffling in an equally as awkward manner down the slope of her spine. Brushing yourself off and fixing your hair for a quick moment, you turn around to thank Zarl’a for her premium piggyback riding services, only to find her already gone and off with the little ones that you can see walking a little ways away from you at a quick pace. You scoff at this, amused by her non-stop attitude.

It was nice to be outside again. The leaves were rustling softly against one another, letting rays of sunlight through the tiny holes that the gaps between them created. The air smelled fresh, as if the colour green was turned into a gust of wind that flew by your nose and blessed you with its presence. However much you love— hold on, that’s a big word. Let’s change that to enjoy— Anakin’s presence now after your view of him has made a sudden shift, you realise that you tend to miss things when the two of you are around each other, even when you were both arguing all of the time. You’re so engulfed in each other’s presence that you can’t focus as much on your surroundings. 

In your little tête-à-tête with Anakin while entering the common room earlier, you failed to notice that to the right of the doorway was the end of the bridge, a wooden handrail blocking off any further steps once the floor stopped continuing onward towards the other trees. The cutoff area was noticeably wider than the rest of the bridge, with a pentagon shape to it that made it so you could view the forest from different angles when leaning on the guardrail.

To the right of the balcony, hanging elegantly low from its regal center, were several tree branches stemming from the gigantic tree next to the room you just left, bending over as if to bow to you and pay its respects in your honor. Its leaves were oval with a slightly pointy tip, and small flowers sparsely decorated the tree’s foliage in little tiny clusters close enough to touch. You step over towards the balcony, leaning in over the edge of the guardrail to take a sniff of said flowers, and find them to have the scent of something musky and rugged, which was quite the opposite of what their appearance would suggest. The flowers had pink, frilled petals with multiple layers going all the way to their center, their middle a deeper pink that went into a slow, gradient descent outward. Smiling to yourself, you reach your hand out to grab one from the tree, thanking it internally for giving you this gift, and take another sniff of the flower, closing your eyes to fully embrace the smell. The theatre could wait.

With your eyes closed, you listen to all of the sounds around you once again. The leaves rustling, the distant murmur of the girls talking inside, the chirps and trills of birds in the area… they all sound so familiar to you already. It makes you feel like you’re a native of Solsko already, even though you’ve only been here for a short amount of time.

Then, behind you, you hear another, louder chirp; one that you had just called familiar no more than a second ago. Raising your brow in question, you turn around, flower still in hand, to find a certain someone perched on a railing a little ways away from you, eyes wide and head cocked in interest in your direction. He adjusts his stance on the guardrail by shifting his weight on his little feet, and then looks up at you once more like you were a divine entity that had just descended on the planet to bestow some sort of wisdom on him.

“Euphronius, I feel like if you were a person you’d be one of those creeps who looks into people’s windows when they’re changing,” you say, tucking the flower behind your ear and crossing your arms. He trills in offense, ruffling his feathers at you and narrowing his eyes. You scoff.

“What, can’t handle the truth?”

An even more offended trill.

“Whatever you say,” you declare, raising your arms in the air to show your concession. At seeing this, Euphronius flutters up and onto your head to sit there yet again, to which you accept in defeat.

Taking one last glance at the tree from the balcony, you turn the other direction and begin to walk where you had seen Yvonne sprint in from earlier. You don’t really know where you’re going, but assume that you’ll catch up to the group from earlier if you have a good enough pace.

Every now and then you trip a little over planks of wood warped with age, a sight which Euphronius chitters at every time without fail. During one particularly clumsy episode, he decides to leave his perch on your head to fly around in front of your face and land on top of the plank you’d tripped on, as if to emphasize how oblivious you’d been, then return to his previous spot.

“I hope you know that if I go down, you’re going down with me. You are riding me,” you say, pushing away your predilection to be dirty minded and instead rolling your eyes at the bird’s antics. He doesn’t make a peep after that.

Not long after you leave the balcony, you begin to pass by houses connected to the bridge by little branch paths, these being much more elaborate and fortified than the tourist room that you were currently staying in. Several huge trees made up a single house, their trunks defining the shape of the residence and giving each home its own personality, though no house would have lacked in that area even without their shape.

The first house that you pass by is on your left, a cute pink mailbox out in front of a bridge with a trellis curved over its top and flowers bursting from practically every open space on and around the house. It has a grass roof boasting wildflowers along the top and shuttered windows being the home to several baby potted plants. Further on, you find another house that’s three stories tall, incredibly thin, leaning slightly to the left and painted in different individual designs from head to toe.

These residences quickly become a fascination of yours, not only letting you admire their individuality but also get your mind off of how you’re very likely not going in the right direction. There were several ways you could have turned and gone that you’d passed by already, but had decided to ignore and instead go with your gut to continue straight.

When you peel your eyes from a house with stained glass that reflects the sunlight in all different directions, you spot a little green head sitting on a bench in the distance along the bridge. The girl was kicking her feet along the edge of the bench, her front legs not fully long enough to touch the ground, even if her back pair were. Her presence there intrigued you, as she was one of the little girls who had been trying to hide from Yvonne earlier and should have been way up ahead with Anakin and Zarl’a.

When you arrive in earshot of the girl, you knock on the wood of the banister to get her attention, and Euphronius trills happily at her in the same moment. Her head swivels towards you, her eyes wide and blinking. She continues to look at you, surveying you up and down without saying a word. When the silence begins to get uncomfortable for you (which isn’t a hard feat), you try to break the ice.

“Knock knock?” You joke, laughing awkwardly. Hilarious. It’s surprising you don’t have a career in stand up by now. The girl shakes her head as if to clear it upon you speaking, standing up abruptly and sticking her hand out in greeting.

“Sorry, people say I stare a lot,” she says, rubbing her arm with her hand once you shake it. “My name’s Hurly.” You try and introduce yourself to her as well, but she stops you, saying she already knows your name. You quickly move on past introductions and remark on her previous statement.

“Don’t worry, I’m a starer, too. I’m just not a fan of silence. It gives me the heebie jeebies, y’know?”

“But it’s not silent,” she says, her face scrunching up in confusion. She looked younger than Theresa, but had an air of authority about her that the older girl failed to possess. “Don’t you hear the sounds of the forest? Listen:”

She pauses like she’s waiting for you to join her, but then blinks a few times and speaks right up again.

“Sorry again. I’ll stop talking.” You open your mouth to protest, but she abruptly turns around, waves you over in her direction, and starts walking to the right at a fork in the bridge. Feeling bewildered, you follow behind her, scrunching up your brow as you try and figure this girl out.

“I didn’t want you to get lost, so I stayed and waited for you. Everyone else is already there,” Hurly remarks as she continues at a brisk pace ahead of you, her head going updownupdown in a bobbing motion with the way she walks. She turns around once again to make sure that you’re still behind her, keeping her stride but walking backwards along the path. “Why did you crash here?”

You huff in amusement, running your hands along Euphronius’ soft feathers. “I didn’t exactly choose to crash here.”

“I meant how.” 

Well, she’s a blunt one. You like it. What you don’t like, however, is the idea of trying to explain the story behind the mob boss kingpin frozen and latched against the wall back on your ship.

“Oh, you know. Vengeful space whales, Anakin absolutely bombing at piloting the ship…” You chuckle at the last part, knowing full well it was a white face lie. Hurly pushes out her lower lip in a suspicious glance, facing forward again and yelling over her shoulder.

“You’re lying! I helped him fix some of your ship. He said that it was an accident.”

“So you’re getting two accounts of our crash, then?” You respond cheekily, finding that you enjoy riling Hurly up.

“I like having the facts!”

“So I can tell,” you quip, smiling at the back of her head.

You almost crash into Hurly with the way she suddenly stops, your pace having been previously matched with her long strides. Practically skidding to a halt, you hold your hands above her hand so that you don’t hit her. Spooked at this, Euphronius takes off from your shoulder and into the leaves above, accidentally grabbing the pink flower from your ear in the process.

“Maker! What are you doing?” You ask, chuckling at Hurly’s antics whilst lowering your arms. She looks up at you with a sheepish expression.

“Sorry if I’m talking too much. I get told I do that a lot,” she says, rubbing her arm and darting her eyes in another direction. There’s a tinge of shame to her voice that hurts you to hear.

Concerned, you crouch down to be at eye level with her, softening your voice in the process. “Who told you that?”

Surprised, Hurly purses her lips before answering. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not that big of a deal. I can be annoying sometimes.”

“Hurly, you are not annoying. And if someone is saying that to you, then they’re just jealous.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re a Jedi. That’s what Jedi do.” 

“I’m capable of exercising free will, Hurly. Trust me. This is me talking, not just some Jedi.”

Hurly fidgets uncomfortably, seeming as if she’s not used to praise of this sort, then makes eye contact with you, eyes gleaming.

“Do you really think so?”

“Look at you! You stayed behind to make sure that I could get to the theatre while everyone else went on ahead without a second thought. Not everyone would do that, as you can see.” You gesture towards the empty space around you, the lack of people emphasizing your point. In truth, you’re really not angry with the girls for leaving you behind, as it’s your own fault in the first place for taking your sweet time, but you’re not going to say that in the midst of trying to cheer Hurly up. “You’re amazing, Hurly. We met just a little while ago, and I can already tell that.”

Although it’s visibly obvious that Hurly feels better from your little pep talk with the little crooked half smile she sports, she scoffs. “Okay, now you’re just getting mushy. Let’s get going already.” She heads in the direction of the theatre once more, but with a distinctly more bubbly walk than before. It seems like she bounces with every step she takes now. You start to chuckle, but blink twice in surprise as you see the speed that Hurly has now decided to use in your trek.

“Wait!” You shout, running to try and catch up with her. Apparently your pick-me-up has been too good, because she was practically levitating away from you. She must not hear you, because she skips her merry little way along the painted bridge without a care in the galaxy as you huff and puff behind her. You then learn, however, that Hurly knows exactly what she’s doing, as she starts using her back legs to add extra speed to her run and speed up in front of you. By now, the bridges were beginning to get a bit more intricate, with forks leading in different directions showing up more often than not, so you need to stay close to Hurly to make sure that you won’t get lost. Even though you want to lie down on the cool ground and groan at the stitch in your side, you continue on.

Hurly begins to slow down when a clearing in the woods opens up, which is quite convenient for you, as you had taken up holding onto the guardrail and hobbling along like you’d been shot in the legs while following her. Finally, Hurly looks over her shoulder at you, and instead of walking over to help you, she laughs at your pain. Laughs!

“Come on, gran! You and Beety are definitely going to get along if that’s the way you walk up to her house. You’ll be twins.”

“Evil! You—“ You gulp in a few big breaths, coughing in the process. “Evil child!”

Hurly laughs even more, sticking her tongue out at you while she waits for you to hobble over to her location. It takes you a while, but you eventually are able to stand up like a normal human being and take tiny little steps in her direction until you get there.

“Jail!” You say, pointing in a accusatory manner at Hurly with a shaking finger. “I take everything back. We’re mortal enemies now.”

She giggles again, shrugging her shoulders at your statement. “You should have seen the look on your face.”

“I did. My soul left my body and watched me fail to catch up to you. It was embarrassing, really.”

“Did it really? Is that a Jedi thing?” Hurly asks, her eyes widening in curious interest. Before you can answer her with a negative, she puts her hand up to stop you. “Nevermind. You were being sarcastic. Anyways, hop on my back. There aren’t any stairs over here either; the tourists would usually walk on the ground here.”

Chuckling at her bluntness, you oblige to her command, positioning yourself on her back for her to be able to carry you. In hindsight, you realise how comical the situation could look to someone on the outside; the girl was half your size, and yet she held the strength to carry you with ease and hurtle you down towards the forest floor along with her.  The jump wasn’t as rowdy this time as it had been with Zarl’a, which made you grin. You were totally going to talk shit about it to her once you saw her again.

When the air had stopped wooshing your hair and clothes into a rowdy mess and you’d landed on the ground, you’re able to take in the large theatre ahead of you to your right.

It was, of course, made of wood, but the wood for this particular building seemed much brighter than all of the other structures that you’d seen thus far. Its lustre had dulled with age, though that hadn’t lessened its elegance, and there were small marks of wear and tear along the floor of the stage that several girls were prancing around on. There were huge, red curtains held up in place by golden holdbacks on either side of the open stage area, and it was shaped in a half circle, with the ceiling being domed and the bottom being horizontal. There were paintings of Solskians reciting their lines or performing along the outside walls of the theatre, as well as a small, wooden platform at its left that disappeared behind the outer walls. Golden adornments could be seen everywhere, from the stage lights to the tassels on the curtains, and there were several tiers of seats in front of the structure. It matched the wooden landscape of Solsko perfectly, while still being regal enough for those who are picky about the theatre to not have huge qualms with.

“Did you make all of this?” You ask Hurly as you walk towards the others. Hurly side eyes you, raising a non existent brow.

“No? I don’t even know how to make a birdhouse—“ 

You giggle, shaking your head at her. “No, no! I meant did all of you guys build this? How long has this been here for?”

“Oh. Then yeah. My mom was one of the people who helped build it. It’s been here for maybe… seventy years? I don’t really know.”

“But I thought Solsko’s tourism industry had only really jump started when Dolores first started writing her plays?”

“Yeah? That’s around the time.”

“How old is Delores, then?”

“A hundred and… thirty something? I dunno. Something like that.”

Damn! You hadn’t known that Solskians had such a long lifespan; there was nothing stating as such in the Jedi records when you’d done your project on them.

“We mature really fast, and then just start aging really slow,” Hurly adds, chewing on her cheek absentmindedly. “My mom was around Dolores’ age when she had me.”

“Who’s your mom, then?” You ask, darting your eyes around to spot any sort of resemblance in the girls around you.

“Oh, she’s dead,” Hurly says, voice chipper. You swallow so abruptly at this that you start coughing loudly, pounding at your chest to get yourself to breathe normally once more. Hurly waves to another little girl on the stage and runs off towards her, leaving you dumbfounded at how casually she dropped a bomb like that. It’s not funny, but you want to laugh.

Okay, it’s kind of funny. Not her mom dying or anything; just the way she said it.

Your Master would be disappointed.

Left to your own devices after being led here and left in the dust by Hurly, you step over to the theatre to try and heave yourself up and onto the stage. It’s at least half your height, so you have to jump in order to get yourself on, ending up flat on your stomach with your face towards the floor in your efforts.

“Smooth,” you hear a voice say, brown leather boots appearing in your peripheral vision. You roll your eyes against the floor, then flip yourself over to lie on your back. “This’ll be two times in one day that I’ve helped you up, Jedi.”

“Jealous?” You quip back, seeing Zarl’a standing above you and crossing her arms. She snorts, reaching a hand down to help you up. Someone squeals in the distance, followed by a steady stream of giggles by multiple little girls.

Grabbing on to Zarl’a’s hand, you pull yourself into a standing position and then some, being shot into the air by Zarl’a’s strength as she pulls. She yells, catching you mid air and setting you down as gently as she can muster.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!” She says, her words fast and slightly frantic. You laugh at this, brushing some dirt off of your hands and legs and waving her off.

“I'm kind of used to it by now,” you retort, playfully punching her in the shoulder. She puts on an act of being offended, gasping as loud as she can muster.

“What are you even talking about?”

“You’re a helluva strong bitch, Zarl!” Yvonne yells from a distance, herding a couple of girls away from a pulley system that they definitely shouldn’t be around. You can see one of them mouth the word bitch!, testing the word out on her tongue after hearing Yvonne say it, to which Yvonne hurriedly shushes her. Both you and Zarl’a start to giggle, which causes Theresa to perk up from her place by one of the curtains and run over to the two of you.

“There you are! I thought I lost you! Man would I have gotten in trouble,” she says, sighing in relief. Her expression then changes to one of suspicion. “Where were you? I thought you were right behind us!”

“Thanks for worrying about me too, babe,” Zarl’a says sarcastically, giving Theresa a quick kiss on the head before walking away. Theresa scowls at her, shaking her little fist in her direction even though she has an amused little smile on her face.

“I just took the scenic route,” you respond, smiling down at her. She sighs, her shoulders relaxing in the process, before she grabs your hand and begins pulling you over to the platform on the side of the stage with as much ferocity as she can muster.

“Well, come on, then! Anakin’s been wondering where you were. He was getting all upset.”

“Oh, really?” Your smile was evil.

“Yeah! He started pacing around and everything. He said he wasn’t, but I could sense it on him. That’s why we gotta hurry up!” She puts emphasis on her last two words, tugging you even more. The two of you reach the small platform along the side of the theatre, step onto the creaking wood, and walk for a short distance until you reach a pair of double doors that enter the back area of the building. Theresa pushes through them with ease with her left arm, then continues tugging you in with her right.

“C’mon, c’mon! I wanna show you my costume!” She says, beaming in excitement. You smile at this, attempting to take in your surroundings as you’re guided through the space.

It wasn’t very big in comparison to the stage, maybe twice as big as the room you were currently staying in, but it was very homey and well decorated. String lights were hung up everywhere, as well as even more fringe lamps dyed every colour of the rainbow being placed on several different surfaces around the room, with one table sporting a portable fan that was turned on. On one long wall, there was an impressive amount of dressing rooms in a line, each separated by an individual curtain of bright magenta. Posters of different plays from in and out of planet are plastered all over the walls, and several tables with comfortable looking chairs are placed haphazardly around the room. It was void of people except for you, an older, teenage-looking girl and Theresa, though there was the sound of the fan humming spread throughout the room in a calming fashion.

Zarl’a ushers you forward to a corner in the back of the room, where you finally are able to spot Anakin poking around at a broken lamp, his fingers tickling its inner wires. Though he was in his natural environment, his foot was still tapping anxiously, which you took as a sign that Theresa’s approximation was correct.

“Wait here, okay? I’m gonna change,” she states, rushing off into a dressing room a few curtains down before you have a chance to say anything. You stand there for a moment, watching with a grin Anakin being completely oblivious to the outside world while he tinkers with the lamp.

“Is that a lamp in your hand, or are you just happy to see me?” You say, smirking at how horrible the line was. You see Anakin perk up at the sound of your voice, then roll his eyes when he processes what you just said to him. His body language becomes notably more relaxed. You’re definitely going to give him shit sometime for getting so worked up over you being a few minutes late later today.

You take a few steps closer to Anakin, leaning over with your hands behind your back like you have some important news to share.

“A little birdie told me you were a nervous wreck while I was gone,” you tease, to which Anakin scoffs in an attempt to put your accusation to rest.

“All I said was that if you didn’t get here soon, I’d go check to see where you were!” He pokes your chest playfully at this, and you smirk at him, plopping down into a plush chair beside him.

“Just admit it; you’re obsessed with me.” Your tone is smug as you pretend to pick at your nails, glancing up to see his reaction. Anakin’s eyes glint in a suppressed smile, to which he then leans back in his own small chair and crosses his arms behind his head.

“Lamp,” he states matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to understand what he’s saying perfectly. You open your mouth, crinkle your brows together and look up in thought for a moment before answering him with a poignant:

“What?” 

“The question you asked me before. Y’know, you or the lamp?”

You blink at him as his giggling starts, then slap your knees before beginning to stand. “I’m getting up now.”

“So soon? You’ll miss Lampy and I’s confessions of deep, carnal love for one another!” The older, teenage girl clocks Anakin with a suspicious glance, and when you and him lock eyes after noticing this, you burst into a bout of laughter. You hold onto each other in an attempt to gain support and not tumble to the floor, but do so anyway, which just makes you laugh harder. Tears spring up in your waterline, and you start to wipe them away as your laughter dies down, you and Anakin lying parallel with your backs on the floor while in opposite directions.

You turn your head towards him, and find him already staring at you, a wide grin plastered on his face that overtakes all of his features. You ride out the aftershocks of deep laughter with one another, little huffs happening every now and then, and then your mind starts very suddenly starts to wander to some less than decent places about that very mouth you were just admiring.

And by wander, let’s just say do a flip and dive straight into them.

Thankfully, though, you’re saved from Anakin noticing this in your expression by Theresa standing over the two of you with her hands on her hips. She’s practically a silhouette against the light behind her from where you’re looking at her, but you can tell it’s Theresa by the way her head is slightly cocked in your direction.

“This is my costume!” She announces, doing a little twirl to showcase her clothes in all of their glory. You can barely see them from where you’re at, so you sit up, stretching your legs out in front of you to admire her outfit. Putting her hands on her hips, she gives you a premature scowl. “Don’t laugh.”

Her shorts are twice as big as her legs and poof out in a strange A-line fashion, making the tops of her legs look like little balloons in comparison to the rest of her body. She had on a white, button down linen shirt that was tucked into them, accompanied by a brown pageboy cap with a long, red feather sticking out from its side.

You unintentionally begin to laugh.

“I knew it! It’s horrible!” Theresa declares, throwing her hands in the air and turning around to give a stink eye to the other girl in the room, who you assume decided on her costume. “See?”

“No, no!” You try to cover up your giggles, but then see Theresa take a few steps in the girl’s direction and find that she has to waddle when wearing the shorts. You grab Anakin’s shoulder now that he’s sitting up next to you in a feeble attempt for support in your guffawing, but he merely smirks down at you and does nothing. “It’s great!”  

Theresa looks back at you, crossing her arms and pouting. Anakin pipes up in his own try at encouragement.

“It’s very… unique!” He states, gesticulating to her outfit as a whole. Theresa flails her arms again and goes to talk to the costume girl from earlier yet again, pleading with her to change the shorts.

“Unique?” You whisper to him, nudging him with your shoulder. He look at you with a surprised expression, bumping you this time with his own shoulder.

“You laughed!” He shoots back, giving you a knowing look. You sigh, accepting defeat.

“Touché.” 

“This is a historical play, Theresa!” The costume girl from earlier says to a haggling Theresa. The younger girl opens her mouth to say something, but the older shushes her with her finger. “You know Delores likes to show real Solskian history in her work; I’m just trying to give the audience an idea of what a Prince of the play’s time period would have really dressed like.”

The older girl wore a long, flowy purple dress, its arms being connected to the skirt to create a wing-like effect to the dress. It had little swirl designs all over, glitter making it sparkle in the room’s light. She also wore very striking makeup that would most definitely be noticeable if she were on stage, her features very defined.

“I don’t give a crap about our history if I gotta wear these shorts, Em! I look diseased!” Theresa points out, and before Em can respond, she points to you and Anakin and continues. “Even the Jedi laughed! That’s gotta mean somethin’ to you.”

Em sighs, rubbing her fingers over her eyes like a disappointed parent, then shrugs her shoulders in defeat. “Alright. You can change the shorts. But, you have to keep the hat.”

“Deal,” Theresa responds, grabbing Em’s hand and shaking it with such excited vigour that her arm wiggles a bit along with her hand. Theresa turns around to face you and Anakin, giving you both an excited little thumbs up before gallivanting behind a curtain in one of the dressing rooms once again. Em chuckles to herself, rubbing a hand along her smooth head in thought for a moment before heading to another side of the room and grabbing a pair of dark red slacks. She picks up a few pairs that look the same, albeit bigger and smaller than one another, before finding one that she deems fit, then goes to the curtain that Theresa is behind and throws the pair onto the rod to hang from it.

“These’ll be your new pants, okay?” Theresa yells back a sound of acknowledgement, and Em continues. “I’m going outside to help pin Mellinta’s shorts, so just come outside when you’re done for the rehearsal.” Another shout sounds out from behind the curtain, and Em covers a small smile with her hand before turning around to head towards the doors. She pauses for a second, looking confused, then quickly snaps back around towards you and Anakin, waving energetically.

“Sorry! I knew I forgot something. I’m Emison. I do the costumes here,” she says, smiling shyly in your direction. “I’ve gotta do play stuff right now, but we should talk sometime!” 

You pause for a second, then decide to call Em’s name. She turns around curiously, her dress billowing around her in the process.

“Yes?” She responds, her voice soft and smooth in a way that made her seem older than she really was.

“Would it be alright if we tried on some costumes to maybe wear for when we watch the play tomorrow?” You ask, prepared for her answer to go either way. She smiles, rubbing her chin in thought for a second and nodding her head lightly before gesturing towards a rack to her right.

“Sure! I think these ones from past productions will be best suited for human bodies; they wrap around our front legs instead of having holes for our back ones.” She continues on her exit out of the side doors, waving her hand behind her in a small goodbye as she does so.

“Thank you!” You say after her giddily, turning to Anakin and wiggling your eyebrows at him. He raises one of his own, seeming suspicious.

“I’m afraid to see what you have planned,” he states, eyeing you as if you were about to pounce on him. You roll your eyes at this.

“That’s just my face,” you say, deadpan. Anakin looks at you expectantly, and you continue. “What? I just don’t think our robes are dressy enough.”

“Speak for yourself.” He gestures to his getup, and you chuckle.

“If you count nerf leather as something suitable to wear to someplace fancy, I think there’s something wrong with you.” He gasps, acting offended.

“You wound me!”

“I merely state the facts.”

As Anakin acts like he’s deeply insulted and you lean your arms against the back of your chair, you suddenly hear an uptick of sound of Theresa struggling with her clothes in the dressing room.

“Everything okay in there?” You ask, heading a loud thud right after you do so. Both you and Anakin get up at this, heading towards the dressing room in worry, but are soon stopped by Theresa peeking her head through the curtain with a dazed but happy grin.

“I’m okay!”

You and Anakin give each other a skeptical look, but don’t push further on the topic. Instead, you spot a feather boa hanging off of another curtain’s pole and decide to try it on, wrapping it around your neck in a theatrical fashion and walking up to Anakin with a more than dramatic swing of your hips, spinning the boa’s end around in circles.

“You’re going to start a dust storm if you keep doing that,” he jokes, referencing the scarf. You huff, spinning it even faster and closer to his face.

“It’s fun! Though that might be a foreign word for you.”

He laughs, putting on a determined expression. “You want fun? I’ll give you fun.” He grabs a hat from off a table to his left and puts it on, tipping it in your direction as you pass by him curiously.

“My lady,” he says, bowing low in an incredibly over-the-top fashion. You snort.

“I have an urge to tip you over,” you say, tickling his neck with the end of the boa. “You’re practically already touching your toes. It’d be easy.” He huffs at this, straightening himself out with a lopsided grin and wagging his finger no.

“Save it for the spar. You’re gonna need the energy.”

“Well someone’s feeling cocky, aren’t you?”

“Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I’m just telling it as it is.”

“More like how you want things to be.”

“More like how they will be.”

“Wishful thinking, Anakin.” You tsktsktsk disappointedly at him, causing him to scowl.

It’s at this moment that Theresa finally emerges from her dressing room, her outfit looking much better suited for her role as a prince than before by a mere pants change. The pants were very tight, but matched her shirt well, being a good contrast to the plain design of the button down as well as looking much better with the shirt tucked into them than the last pair.

“I fell,” Theresa says, as if the two of you hadn’t already estimated that earlier. She had a large bruise beginning to form on her right arm, but didn’t seem to even notice due to her elation at wearing clothes she actually liked.

“We’d figured,” Anakin states, smiling at her and doing a little twirling motion at her to tell her to spin. She does just as he says, stretching her hands out and shaking them with pizzazz at the end as if to say ta-da! Anakin laughs at this, shaking his head at her antics.

“Theresa! Where are you? It’s your cue!” A voice outside of the door calls out, seemingly slightly panicked at her absence. Theresa’s eyes widen, her lips pursing in amusement at her lateness.

“I must’ve took too long,” she says, tittering into her hand and starting to jog over to the door. Her pants squeak with each step she takes, creating a repetitive rhythm as she runs. She reaches the door, pushing it open, then turns towards you and Anakin, saying “Don’t come out until I come back! I don’t wanna spoil the play for you, so just stay back here, ‘kay?”

She rushes out of the room, and while you’re distracted, Anakin grabs the end of your boa and begins to unravel it from your neck, spinning you around and stealing it for himself. He wraps it several times around his own neck, flaps it like he has a pair of wings, then turns back to you.

“How do I look?” He asks, holding the boa’s end and spinning it in circles absentmindedly. When he notices himself doing this, he looks down at the feathered scarf in awe, holding it up to his face with reverence. “Wow, this is fun!”

“Well, you definitely look unique,” you respond, a small jab at him in using his own words from before. He gives you a deadpan expression, but his mouth twitches in a withheld laugh at your verdict. You shake your head, pushing past him and towards the rack that Em had pointed to earlier. You shuffle through the items for a moment, then spot a thick, green and brown costume folded up several times in order for it to be able to fit on the hanger. Taking it off of the rack and unfolding it, you find it to be a costume of a tree, complete with arm branches and leaves at its top.

Biting your lip to hold in your laughter, you slowly turn towards Anakin, holding the costume out in all of its glory for him to see. He stares at it in horror, putting his hands up as if to defend himself from the monstrosity.

“I am not wearing that,” he declares, shaking his head no. You step towards him, wiggling the costume left and right in a taunting motion.

“What do you mean? This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Anakin giggles at your words before he can help himself, then sighs, holding out his arms. “Well, if you insist…”

He takes the tree costume from your hands and slips behind a dressing room curtain, grinning at you and then sliding the curtain closed. While he changes, you continue to look through the rack, uncovering a mixture of actual clothes along with things like a small outfit shaped like a rock that seemed to be made for toddlers. Next to this rock costume, your fingers land on a soft, comfortable material, and you find a loose, dark green empire waist dress with fabric that goes down to your ankles. It had short, puffy sleeves and lines in its middle separating satin from chiffon.

“Anakin, I just found the most gorgeous dress that I can wear to the play tomorrow!” You shout behind you, holding the dress up against your frame to check its length. It was a bit too long, but you could always just hike it up as you walked.

At your back, you make out a light shuffling noise, accompanied with a few frustrated grunts, then hear the sharp noise of a curtain being pushed to the left on its rod. You turn around at this, still holding the dress against yourself absentmindedly, to lay your eyes on Anakin.

“Hey, we match!” He says, gesturing to your dress and then to the green mass of fake leaves above his head with his hand. He’s unable to move his arm far in any direction due to the blockiness of his costume, so he instead waves his hand in a vague circle to try and emphasize his point. The only parts of him that you can see are his arms, his feet and his face, with the latter only being visible from a cutout in the middle of the costume that he’s squished into.

Naturally, you burst into a fit of giggles.

“What? This isn’t doing it for you?” He says, spinning in an incredibly awkward circle. He missteps, almost causing him to topple over, tree and all, but he catches himself at the last second by holding his hands out straight at his sides.

Wiping a tear from your eye, you flip the dress over and onto your shoulder and step over to Anakin, picking a piece of fake leaf that had fallen on his shoulder off with your fingers and blowing it in his face.

“I think I need to amend my previous statement,” you state in reference to calling the costume quote unquote ‘sexy,’ even though you fully knew that Anakin understood it as a joke.

“So I went through all of this work for nothing?” He whines, putting on a big show of flopping his hands at his sides like some sort of sad little sapling. You sigh in faux annoyance, placing your hands on your hips and looking up at him with a bored expression.

“Well, since you did go through all the trouble…”

Grinning at him, you wrap an arm around his neck, or where his neck would be if he didn’t have the tree on, and lean in to press your lips against his. You can feel his smile against your mouth as you kiss him, so you lean back, an eyebrow raised in a mute question as to what he was thinking.

“I can’t move my arms,” he states simply, waving his hands at you stiffly.

“Good. I can do whatever I want with you, then.” You smirk at him, and he smiles back with an even more mischievous grin.

“Whatever you want?” 

“See? You are a pervert!”

“I’m a tree, actually.” Rolling your eyes at Anakin’s antics with an amused huff, you lean in to kiss him again, him doing the same as much as he’s able to with his hinderences. 

When your eyes have just closed and you can feel the warmth radiating off of Anakin’s skin as the gap between you both grows almost minuscule, you hear the doors to the dressing room slam open, along with the pitter-patter of a pair of feet walking inside.

“Hey, Theresa told me to let you guys know you could come out now—“

The two of you practically leap apart from each other, Anakin doing so with such ferocity that he actually falls on his back, rolling around like, well, a log when he lands on the ground. Your dress almost slips off of your shoulder and you catch it mid-air, eyes darting up when you grab it to see who had just walked in on the pair of you.

Em stands at the open doors with a barely concealed smile on her face, her hand covering part of her mouth not doing anything to conceal the amused glint of her eyes. She held a holopad in her other hand, colourful drawings all over its case as well as the label ‘Eminon’ in bubbly lettering.

You cough awkwardly in the silence, reaching down towards Anakin to give him your hand and help him up. Scrambling to his feet, Anakin positions himself slightly in front of you, as if to protect you from the conflict you might face.

“Yeah, that— I think that fits fine,” you say, trying to say something to cover up that fact that you and Anakin were about to smooch up a storm just a few seconds ago. Stars, how could you have been so careless? The two of you are Jedi, for Maker’s sake! You’re not supposed to have attachments, and you’re especially not supposed to have such intimate attachments to another Jedi!

You’re done. Master Kenobi would be told of you and Anakin’s actions when he arrived, and you would be kicked out from the Order. Disowned from the very place you call home. And that’s to assume they didn’t want to punish you in some other way. You are so, totally, royally fucked—

“It’s okay, Jedi. None of us will judge you,” Em says, walking over to where you and Anakin were now standing. “You’re safe here.” You see Anakin’s shoulders drop with relief, and you realise that you, too, had been holding your breath.

“Thank you, Em,” Anakin says, running a hand through his hair and sighing. “You have my—“ he pauses, turning to look at you before continuing, “our gratitude.” You shift yourself over towards Anakin, grabbing his arm with your hands and giving it a thankful squeeze.

Em smiles at you again, tittering a little at the two of you’s faces. “You guys didn’t think that you were being discreet, were you?” She asks, clasping her hands together and shifting her weight to one leg. “All of us could tell you liked each other from the moment Zarl’a brought you down from the canopy. It was practically bursting from your Force signatures.”

“You knew?” You ask, dumbfounded. You hadn’t even known that you had feelings for Anakin yourself then.

“Solskians are a lot more heavily tuned into the Force than most other people in the galaxy. Normal Force users may not be able to sense subconscious emotions, but it’s almost second nature to us,” Em explains, setting the holo pad in her hand down next to a sewing kit on one of the small tables. “Oh, and by the way, Anakin? Your signature was loud.” 

Anakin’s cheeks flush a light shade of pink, and you look up at him with a cheeky little grin.

“Oh, was it now?”

“You have no idea,” Em responds, glancing over at Anakin with a teasing expression. She was starting to grow on you.