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He’d been told to wait in this tiny room, one he’d never been in, but he’d watched some of the older soldiers enter through one door and leave through another with someone else in armour. Most of the time they’d been humanoid but he hadn’t paid close attention back then. He’d still been in training.
He wasn’t now.
He was Commander CC-2224 of the Republic’s clone army and he was waiting for his General.
The man who stepped into the room from the other door was strangely unassuming. The sort of person you might spot and then think nothing of besides their attractive appearance, be it the auburn hair or the charming smile. He was wearing armour, that was a good start, at least he wouldn’t have to convince his Jedi of the importance of that, unlike Bly, who’d tried and failed.
Bright blue eyes focused on him over a warm smile, a hand held out for him to shake in greeting. Not a salute. He wasn’t acting like a soldier but more like the diplomats who’d visited Kamino once or twice.
“I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He had a nice voice, smooth with a Coruscanti accent. “Your General, if you’ll allow it. I formerly worked with Alpha. He suggested you as his replacement.”
Kenobi. Is that how it’s said? Cody kept his thoughts to himself, concentrating enough to give the semblance of professionalism he was known for, with a strong handshake and a nod. “Sir.”
In reality, he was more occupied with trying to understand precisely why his General’s surname was written in bright blue on his left forearm and why a warmth had run through those letters the moment they touched. It had said Kenobi from the moment he could read and before that, it had just been something written in blue.
He wasn’t the only one with a name on his arm. There were enough of them in the Command class for the longnecks to address the issue and a few standard clones that he knew of too. Bly had Secura in a strange green, and Fox had something in green too, but he’d never let anyone see what it said. Cut had Lawquane in a strange pink colour that looked more like a healing scar.
None of them, clone or longneck, had worked out why there were names or if there was any particular reason for which clone received one and what the surname meant. He wondered briefly if Kenobi knew what they meant but it was hardly an appropriate question for a first meeting.
Tell me, sir, I have your name inscribed on my arm and have done since birth, I’m a little confused as to why. Do you have a theory?
He’d raise the issue as and when it became relevant. For now, he’d appreciate that whatever fate or the Force had designed meant that his General and he were linked somehow.
Still, there were worse Jedi to have marked on your body. He’d seen some he’d rather remove his arm than have their name there, such as Krell.
Kenobi was fine. He looked as though he’d stepped from an educational holo about the Jedi, only two decades younger, with the faintest one or two grey hair growing in above his ears. Decidedly younger than he’d have liked, barely a decade older than him in standard years, and not a fearsome warrior, but he’d do as a General. If the myths about a Kenobi negotiating peace with just a handful of words were true, they might not see battle at all.
“Are you alright, Commander? I understand I’m not most people’s choice for a General.”
“Alpha suggested me?” He finally managed to get out, grateful for his bucket hiding his expression because Alpha knew about the word on his arm. That meant he was either being helpful, something of a rarity, or the galaxy’s largest mir’sheb. Knowing Alpha, both could be true.
“He told me there was no one better or more suited to me.”
Oh, kriff , he thought as he nodded politely. Kenobi’s as unhinged as I am, isn’t he?
“I understand you already have a battalion?” His new General inquired, somehow not put off by his silence or behaviour. Force help him, they were either going to be a very competent team or hate each other before the sun set today; hopefully, the former.
“The 212th,” he answered after a moment, more than a little shocked that his General had apparently read the briefing the longnecks had sent over. Rex’s General hadn’t when he’d been taken into battle only six months before. “All good men, sir.”
There was a small nod before a hand waved towards the door behind him. Not the door they were meant to leave through, not the one the Jedi had entered through, but back towards the soldiers. “Could you introduce me to them?”
“That’s not routine.” It was blunt, too blunt for his new commanding officer, he knew that but then he had spoken without thinking about it and the Jedi didn’t seem upset.
“I’m aware,” Kenobi answered with a hint of a smile. “Yet, if I’m to lead you into battle, I’d like to know you all first.”
“You’ll need a datapad for the numbers.”
“I had hoped you went by names.”
“We’re not supposed to have names,” he answered a little more cautiously. They did have names, they’d had them since they were cadets and old enough to choose them, but they weren’t regulation. Still, Kenobi seemed to know about the names. Perhaps Alpha had told him.
“I won’t tell the Kaminoans.” It sounded like a promise but still somehow amused too, eyes twinkling above the same small smile. “You are free to be yourselves around me, Commander, as much as the war allows.”
“Cody,” he stated quietly, filling the silence that had existed for nearly a minute after Kenobi had last spoken. “My name, it’s Cody.”
“Delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“They’re through here.” He waved a hand towards the door where the other clones were waiting and hoped they would be parade-ready or at least, in their full armour as the longnecks demanded.
“Lead on, Cody.” The Jedi nodded, his smile brighter and his eyes sharpening but still remaining somehow kind.
—
“How’s it going with Kenobi?” Rex asked with a glance back over his shoulder in his direction as he collected a tray. It was the first time they’d been able to talk without being surrounded by Jedi; Skywalker was on a holo somehow and Kenobi was being patched up by Stitch for the ‘minor’ injuries he’d obtained destroying the droids on the planet below.
“He’s…” Impulsive, self-sacrificing, kriffing ridiculous. He couldn’t say any of those even though they were true. Force knows what else luring a pack of bloodthirsty animals away from them was, especially after ordering them to block his only exit. “He’s a good General, good for the men and, well, he’s handsome enough for negotiations to go smoothly, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” Rex’s eyebrows shot upwards as he moved forward, placing the tray on the rails in front of them. “Kriff, Codes, that’s practically you confessing your love.”
“I don’t know how to feel about him or the…” He trailed off as Rex looked up sharply, attention successfully diverted from the protein dish he was scooping onto his tray.
“The what?” His brother prompted, eyes fixed on him as they moved along, following the rail around to the next section.
“Some of the other battalions are saying the names are soulmates,” he practically whispered as he picked up a bowl of thick soup, hoping it tasted more appetising than it looked. “I don’t know if I want to believe that.”
“Why not?” Rex asked as he grabbed two cups of water, placing one carefully down on his tray and passing the other one to him. There weren’t any desserts today, not with the dwindling supplies of sugar and chocolate.
He pointed with his head towards the only empty table in the corner so they could continue their conversation. This couldn’t be said in the hearing range of any other clone or a Jedi if they managed to appear. “Because he was flirting with a Sith today. A kriffing Sith .”
“The rumour is that Kenobi flirts with every enemy,” his brother chuckled as they slid into the seats opposite each other. “Does this mean they’re they true?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Then why are you upset that he flirts with them?”
“He doesn’t flirt with me,” he said softly, pushing the chunks of nuna around his bowl rather than eating them. His appetite had all but vanished with this topic. “That’s why.”
“You’re not his enemy, vod.”
“No, but…” He couldn’t hold back the sigh as he touched his left forearm, wishing for that warmth again. It had been so long since they actually touched, not just passed each other lightsabers, datapads and mugs full of tea.
Rex seemed to know what it meant immediately and he stopped trying to push the protein mush onto his fork to give him his full attention. “His name?”
“In the colour of his lightsaber too.”
“Oh…”
Yes. Oh.
He’d already done that bit. Force, he’d gone through the levels of understanding and processing it within seconds of meeting the man.
“It’s not like it’s another Kenobi if one exists.”
“Maybe he’s waiting to see if you two work together before he accepts there’s more than just a professional relationship there. It’s probably some Jedi thing,” his brother finished lamely. Well, at least he appeared to know how ridiculous a theory that was so far into the war.
“For how long, Rex’ika, another year?” He huffed a laugh as he lifted some soup to his mouth. “Do I have to wait until I survive the war? What if he doesn’t want to flirt with me? What if he doesn’t want me as his soulmate?”
“Have you tried flirting with him?”
Have I tried flirting with him?
Force, when haven’t I tried flirting with him?
He’d found Kenobi staring at the sunrise on their first campaign, expression finally one of peace despite being covered in cuts, bruises and Force knows what else. His General had admitted that he’d always loved the sunrises, a sign that light would prevail, no matter how dark the night.
He’d painted a sunrise on his armour the next day, filling the only blank space with golden orange paint in a not-so-subtle hint that he too loved the sunrises. He loved them for the beauty and the unbroken peace for just a few minutes but they still had it in common. Kenobi had called it beautiful but practically scurried away when he’d suggested painting a sunrise on his vambrace, saying something about ‘not wanting to steal his design’. The Jedi had gone before he could admit that part of the reason he’d painted it at all was for him.
He’d tried flirting with him again a few months later, after a particularly good battle with no casualties at all. Something to celebrate. He’d shown up to Kenobi’s quarters in just his blacks, no armour and smiling despite himself. He’d asked him for a drink, only to be invited in with a warm smile and a delighted “I’ll put the kettle on”. He did glimpse his General rolling down his sleeves quickly as the water boiled, hiding pale arms that rarely saw the light of day.
He’d slid into the seat at the empty table, a faint smell of incense making him relax. Perhaps, this was how the Jedi celebrated. He’d never seen him drink any alcohol; no wine on negotiations, never in the mess hall, and he’d turned down moonshine when offered. Actually, that last one had been sensible, in their early days, the moonshine had tasted like engine grease.
A cup of tea had been placed in front of him with sugar and a small bottle of blue milk before Kenobi had asked why he wasn’t celebrating with his brothers. He’d stumbled over his answer, he remembered that, his cheeks flushing as he tried to invite the Jedi to the celebrations. Only to be told that Kenobi thought his attendance might dampen the mood and then asked if he’d sought him out to celebrate quietly. He’d lied through his tea then. The flirting hadn’t worked and he couldn’t admit to it when his General had given him such a perfect excuse.
The next time was on a planet after Kenobi had dropped his lightsaber for the eleventh time. He’d been keeping count. Force knows what the man had been doing since he’d lost it nearly twenty minutes ago and hadn’t been seen since. Still, he’d tried to come up with something witty and flirtatious to get his attention and maybe, for once, more than a grateful smile.
Not to be. He remembered the exchange as if it were yesterday instead of nearly six months ago.
“If you keep losing your lightsaber, sir, I’ll take it as a sign,” he partially joked, hoping the vocoder didn’t remove all hints of teasing from his words.
“Well then,” Kenobi had replied with a maddeningly full smile. “I’ll endeavour to keep hold of it.”
He’d simply ridden off after that, his lightsaber glowing blue into the distance on the back of whatever two-legged creature he was sitting on.
No one had been around to see it except Boil, standing nearby to wait for Waxer. He’d already known before he turned around that his brother was laughing at him even though he’d had the decency to silence his bucket first. That said, he had turned it back on to call him ‘Commander Obvious’ between breathless chuckles.
Not obvious enough, it seemed.
He’d tried again around Life Day when the General had managed to get them a few days’ leave on Coruscant. All his brothers had been off to 79s or to see others stationed here and he’d gone to Kenobi to drop a very unsubtle hint that he’d never been to the Temple and wanted to spend the day with him.
It hadn’t worked.
Well, he had spent the day with him, but not in a romantic way and more in a learning everything about the Jedi Temple and their vast archives. He hadn’t wanted to know precisely how many statues there were around the wide, sun-filled halls. He’d wanted to know what Obi-Wan was like. Not General Kenobi when he was the utmost professional Jedi to everyone who hadn’t seen him do ridiculous feats. He wanted to see Obi-Wan. The man he caught glimpses of when they were working into the early morning, tired enough to let down his guard. The man he’d slowly been falling in love with, helped along by the warmth that ran through his left arm whenever they touched.
He’d been shown the door at the end of the very comprehensive tour, with a polite smile and a sincere ‘thank you for being so interested in our way of life, Commander’.
He made it out onto the numerous steps that led down to the rest of Coruscant before he’d let out the groan of frustration that had been building all day.
He was going to have to spell it out next time.
The last time he’d tried flirting with him hadn’t been planned. There had just been more flimsiwork than usual; enough to keep them going into three in the morning and without any end in sight. It wasn’t something that could be put off either, it was comprised of battle plans, medical requisition lists, and agreeing how many newly trained clones were to serve under particular battalions.
He’d yawned. That had been his undoing. He knew he was tired, Force, even Obi-Wan was smothering a yawn with a robe-covered hand, but he hadn’t meant to show it.
The blue eyes that had been barely open were now alert, looking between him and the chrono with a sigh that seemed to come from his very soul. “It’s late, Commander, you should get some rest.”
He’d wanted to be relaxed about it, calm even, and come out with a suggestion that he could continue. No, he’d come out with “it’s a long walk back to my quarters”. He hadn’t expected the Jedi to suggest he took his bed but after a few more minutes, he’d relented and removed his armour in the fresher, snuggling down into the standard bunk but with a softer than regulation blanket.
The next thing he knew, he was being awoken by the noise of water running in the fresher and then a very relaxed version of his General, hair mussed up, eyes almost entirely closed, in thick, warm-looking sleep clothes approaching the bed.
He hadn’t been thinking when he’d lifted the blanket, ready to trap the other under his arm in something close to a hug. He’d just said the first thing that had entered his mind. “Come sleep with me. There’s room for you too.”
He’d just been given a tired smile, and the Jedi had collected a second, folded blanket from the bottom of the bed and gone to curl up on his meditation mat.
It was then he realised that Obi-Wan was either an idiot when it came to love or entirely oblivious and he wasn’t sure which was cuter.
“Yes,” he answered as he brought himself back out of his thoughts. He’d definitely tried flirting and it hadn’t worked. “Yes, I’ve tried flirting with him.”
“Maybe he’s got someone else’s name?” Rex shrugged as he went back to his food.
“Maybe.” He shrugged, finally eating his soup. There was no point in the rations going cold, it wasn’t going to improve the taste. “Does Skywalker have a name?”
“Amidala.” His brother grinned at that, as if he knew something that no one else did. “Exactly like the Senator, it’s even the colour of her eyes.”
“How do you know what colour her eyes are?” He groaned the question but no one should have been looking so closely at the Senator they only interacted with for protection duty, to notice the colour of her eyes.
“Because Skywalker said so,” his brother replied, and the tone made it clear that this wasn’t the first time he’d had this conversation.
“The Jedi do get names then?” He hadn’t seen Kenobi’s forearms, except for one glimpse, they’d always been covered with robes or vambraces. Force, even in the med bay, they were covered somehow, either with bandages or sleep clothes.
“I haven’t noticed anyone but Skywalker, and even that was only at a glance since he was leaving the med bay without his shirt on.”
“I never want to hear about a shirtless Skywalker again,” he muttered as he resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands.
“Few do,” came Kenobi’s voice from next to their table, something of a smile gracing his lips despite the bandages peeking out from his sleep clothes and the bacta patch on his cheek. He looked better than expected since he’d taken the brunt of an explosion with only the Force to protect him. “May I?”
“Of course, sir.” He didn’t need to think twice about it. There was no one he’d rather be sitting with or talking to; at least a conversation with Kenobi would steer clear of the soulmate talk and failed flirting.
His General was almost always warm, friendly and a sparkling conversationalist, full of interesting facts and questions. There was his laugh and his glittering eyes too, when they’d moved onto a joyful topic, a noise that made him feel truly safe and welcomed.
“Just Obi-Wan, please Cody, we’re not on duty, after all,” Kenobi replied as he slid into the seat next to him, his tray filled with some sort of nuna and rice with a few vegetables peeking out from beneath a sauce. His staring didn’t go unnoticed and he watched the Jedi’s lips twitch into a smile before it vanished again. “Stitch’s orders for my food, I’m afraid. I’d much rather have nuna soup.”
“If only we could swap,” he joked, more of a soft tease than anything but the thoughtful expression on Kenobi’s face gave way to a smile that broke through like the sun through the clouds. “How scared of Stitch, are you?”
“Terrified,” Obi-Wan laughed. “Would you like to try some regardless?”
“Please.” He dipped his spoon into the General’s bowl, catching Rex’s eye and his entirely bewildered expression.
“So, General,” his brother began with a sly smile. “Cody was just telling me-”
Oh, no you don’t , Cody thought as he shot Rex a glare that would have made a shiny cower before him, more than prepared to follow it up with a pointed cough if he didn’t get the hint.
It worked and he softened his expression as the Captain continued, “How much he enjoys working with you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” the Jedi answered easily as he mixed the slightly spicy sauce through the rest of the dish. “Cody’s an excellent Commander and I couldn’t wish for a more dependable second in command.”
He knew he was satisfactory at his role or he’d have been replaced but it was something else to be truly appreciated and without hesitation. “Thank you, Obi-Wan.”
“I only said the truth, Cody.” Obi-Wan’s soft smile made his heart feel as though it was beating out of his chest.
I’m screwed. I’ve actually fallen in love with my General.
—
They were finally alone. Or as alone as they could be surrounded by tents filled with their men. Crys had been the last to leave them sitting around the campfire, wishing them goodnight since they’d agreed to take the watch between them.
That just left Obi-Wan next to him, adding some more wood to the fire with a sigh so soft it was almost carried away by the wind. He’d been quieter than usual, drawn into his thoughts and having to be invited into the conversation instead of just a part of it as always. He looked worn out too, eyes dimmed, sunken shadows beneath them and his shoulders were slumped when he thought no one was looking.
“Everything alright, sir?” He wasn’t asking if everything was alright, not really, he just wanted to give the Jedi space to talk through what was on his mind. They’d been at war for over two years now and he’d never seen this level of distress or exhaustion present in the man.
“I…” Kenobi seemed to be struggling to speak for once, and it immediately put him on edge. He’d seen his General charm a Senator with a smile and a few whispered words, he’d never fumbled over them or struggled to find the right word for the situation. “I’ve been chosen for a mission. One that’ll mean the task of leading the Third Systems Army will fall to you temporarily.”
“Oh.” What else could he say? The mission was bad enough that Kenobi was worried about it. He’d never seen that before, not with the countless missions he’d gone on, and returned from worse for wear. He’d never been anxious about them, but he was with this one; Kenobi had barely managed dinner.
“I am sorry about it. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t, I’m afraid.”
“Top secret?” He tried to inject a little levity into his voice but he couldn’t manage it, so shuffled closer to the Jedi, surprised when his General’s head rested on his shoulder and he could see the emotions in his eyes that he was trying to hide from his men.
“Something like that,” Kenobi answered softly. “There’s… Considerable margin for error.”
“You might die?” He knew what the Jedi was saying regardless of how much he skirted around the issue. There was no answer, just the slightest nod against his shoulder. “Then why you, sir? You’re a little too important to disappear for more than a day, especially with the Outer Rim conflict.”
Obi-Wan didn’t say anything but he shifted away from him enough to pick up the two cups of tea that had been resting near the fire to warm back up. His was passed over silently as the Jedi cupped his with cold hands. The thoughtful look was back, tempered by a deep sadness that he hoped he’d never be familiar with.
“Sir?” He prompted again, not willing to let the subject go. “There are still thousands of Jedi who could- You have Shadows for this exact reason and I- You shouldn’t be volunteered for deadly missions when you’re this important.”
“I don’t have a soulmate.” It was soft, too soft for his General. Raw and open like a wound in his heart. “There’s no one to miss me if it goes terribly wrong. No one to grieve for me.”
“Soulmate, sir?” He hoped Kenobi wasn’t going to tell him that the rumours had been right. Force, if they were and his soulmate was going to die somewhere, cold and alone, he wouldn’t be able to take it.
If the rumours were right, he had to tell Kenobi that he was his soulmate. He couldn’t risk his life or actually die, without knowing he was loved and he did have a soulmate. Especially not since his behaviour before made so much sense; there was no point in flirting with someone if you weren’t destined to be together.
“The, uh,” Obi-Wan started, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The surnames on peoples’ arms, they’re that of your soulmate. They’re in an important colour to your soulmate too, in case you have one with a standard name or a large family. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve been told. I’ve never experienced it.”
He couldn’t help but glance at his arm but it went unnoticed by the Jedi who was rolling up the sleeve on his tunic and that of his undertunic too, quick fingers working at the tight fabric.
“Mine has been blank since birth.” His sleeves were finally out of the way and it was blank. Nothing but a few freckles dotting it, not even the imprint of a name. Just nothing. “I wasn’t destined for love, it seems.”
“I thought for the longest time it was just us who had them,” he admitted as he unclipped his vambrace, trying to find the words to tell Obi-Wan that he was his soulmate. There was no one else Kenobi could mean.
“Some of us do.” The Jedi drained his cup, looking up at the stars instead of at him. “We’re told soulmates are perfectly matched like the stars above. That seems true enough. One of my friends, his Master has Saa on his arm, and that’s his romantic partner. She has his surname too. My padawan, try as he may to hide it, has the name of his wife. So, yes, we have them too. The whole galaxy does if they’re lucky enough. They just have to find the person with their surname.”
“You’re my soulmate,” he said softly, trying not to overexplain it or struggle with the words to tell Obi-Wan how much he was loved. The truth was better simply said, after all.
“If only, dear Cody.” There was that wistful smile again. “If only.”
Kriff it all. If Obi-Wan wasn’t going to believe him, he’d just show him. He hadn’t seen a surname on his Jedi’s arm but perhaps it was just an error; maybe the galaxy had gotten it wrong, just this once and Obi-Wan was missing his name. He pushed his sleeve up out of the way, the blue letters shining in the light of the fire. “You’re my soulmate, Obi-Wan and I- It’s taken me a while to understand the feeling you give me, but I know what it is now. I love you.”
“You’re sweet, Cody, and I wish it was you, but…” They both knew the Jedi’s arm was blank. It shouldn’t have been. If anyone deserved a lifetime with someone who loved him unreservedly, it was his General. “It’s not me. Kenobi is a common enough surname on Stewjon. You’ll probably visit it after the war.”
“It’s the colour of your lightsaber.” He was clutching at straws, he knew that but he felt it was Kenobi. Force, even though the man had shown no interest in anything more than a friendship, he loved him and the warmth every time they touched couldn’t be from nothing. Not after all this time.
“And the colour of my father’s eyes.”
“I want it to be you.” It came out almost pleaded, tinged with desperation because Kenobi was meant for him and he felt, deep down, he was meant for him too.
“And if I could choose someone to share my days with, it would be you, but that wouldn’t be fair to your true soulmate.”
“I still think it’s you.”
“Then allow me to protect you one last time and take the first watch.”
He nodded as Obi-Wan’s hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing it gently, and warmth spread through him until the Jedi moved away again. He knew what that meant. Obi-Wan would be gone in the morning. He’d see him when he went to relieve him and then not until after the mission.
If he came back at all.
—
He’d been in the hangar when the ship landed with their General on board. An all too familiar ship, R4 beeping happily as she left the ship alone, the man inside moving slowly. They hadn’t said who was replacing Kenobi but he seemed either old or injured and neither were a good option. The robes were the same as Kenobi’s too, but hanging looser around his frame as he climbed down from the ship.
Short ginger hair, barely a dusting on his head and a strong jawline with no beard.
“I’m CC-22-” he started to greet the new General, only for him to turn around and see tired eyes and a pained expression. Still, very much alive for a man who was meant to be dead.
“Cody?” Obi-Wan’s voice sounded as hurt as he evidently was. He’d taken a beating during this mission, that much was obvious and yet they’d cleared him for active duty even though he was holding himself so carefully as though too much pressure would break him. “Can we…”
He had to hold himself back from hugging the man, at least in front of the men, but once they were in private, nothing would stop him. For now, though, he slipped an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and helped him out to the turbolift in the corridor, hearing the shaky breaths with each move. “You, sir, are seeing Stitch the moment you get back to your quarters.”
“At least you’ve stopped insisting on the med bay,” the Jedi joked quietly, leaning against him to take some pressure off his leg. “I, um, had a run-in with Anakin whilst I was undercover. I appear to have taught him well.”
“There are easier ways to find that out,” he teased back but made a note to get the Jedi’s first aid kit out before he called Stitch to deal with the surface injuries at the very least. He inwardly sighed when there was someone else in the turbolift once it arrived because it meant that holding the other and telling him how much he’d missed him would have to wait until they’d got to Obi-Wan’s quarters. “I’m glad you’re back, General.”
“The feeling is mutual.” That mask of professionalism was still in place, although it disappeared once the other natborn in the turbolift left and a pained sigh left the Jedi’s lips as he sagged into him. “Force…”
“What hurts?”
“My legs mostly.” At least that was an honest answer and one he could do something about. The living areas of the ship would be practically deserted at this time of day. “I think I took a blow to the head at some point too, but Master Che cleared me for light duties.”
“I didn’t know light duties involved flying.”
Obi-Wan’s expression turned soft, looking up at him with the slightest smile because he had done something ridiculous again and he knew it. “How else would I get back to you? Does it make it better if R4 did most of the flying?”
“A little,” he admitted with a fond smile, carefully bending down to scoop Obi-Wan into his arms. “How’s this?”
“Comfortable enough to fall asleep,” came the answer as his General laid his head against his shoulder. “Thank you, Cody. Not just for this but… Well, I saw the reports of your missions whilst I was gone.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, holding his breath as the turbolift doors opened, letting it out when the corridor was empty. He could carry Obi-Wan to his quarters, and stop his legs from hurting too much. It was only once they were nearly outside that he realised he’d need to explain.
Obi-Wan’s things, what little of them had been stored in the room, had been put into boxes to be given back to the Temple once they were next on Coruscant. They’d been told he was dead and after their conversation…
Well, he’d packed it all, reluctantly and with a few tears he’d never admit to crying.
“I’ll have to unpack your blanket and sleep clothes.” It was an apology of sorts before Obi-Wan had even seen his quarters stripped back to the bare durasteel walls and nothing else.
“So long as there’s a chair to sit on, I’ll be alright, Cody.”
“I… I thought you were dead, truly gone and I-”
“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan’s apology was quiet as he was lowered to sit on the bed, somewhere with plenty of room to treat the wounds he’d suffered.
“What?” He knew he looked up too sharply from the way Obi-Wan flinched. He hadn’t meant it like that . The Jedi didn’t need to apologise in the slightest; he’d followed his orders and if the Chancellor had been honest, then they wouldn’t be in this situation. None of it was Obi-Wan’s fault. Not to him. “Force, no, I- You don’t need to apologise.”
“I betrayed your trust. At least, that is the general consensus.”
“No, Obi-Wan.” He sat on the bed next to him, offering a kindness that apparently was sorely lacking from every other person Obi-Wan had interacted with. He imagined it was Skywalker or Tano; the former took everything more personally than any other Jedi he’d met and the latter followed her Master’s lead, just like all padawans. “You have done no such thing. You warned me that your death might happen and I’m more relieved that you’re alive than anything else.”
“Anything else?”
“I may have a strong word reserved for the Chancellor if I ever meet him.”
That got a small laugh, not as warm as it had been before, but enough to make him think everything would be alright at some point soon. At the very least, it was still his Obi-Wan who’d come back and not just a man wearing his face.
“Could you…” Obi-Wan gestured to his robes as he undid his belt, his movements stilted and pained enough that it wasn’t just his legs he’d hurt. “Could you help me with these?”
“Always.”
“So,” the Jedi said, sucking in a breath as he applied a bacta patch to what looked quite a lot like a broken rib. “Has anything changed here?”
“We’ve a few new shinies.” He took the backing off another patch, passing it over before looking for the hypo of pain relief that should be somewhere in the large kit. “Slicer has improved the ration packs by nothing short of a Force-forsaken miracle. I still love you. Someone had to stop Crys dyeing his hair ginger in honour of you.”
“What was that?” Obi-Wan eyes were fixed on him as he smoothed out a bacta patch on his forearm.
“Crys dyeing his hair?”
“The one before that.”
“I still love you,” he repeated softly, freely and truthfully.
He’d thought about it whilst he’d packed the Jedi’s things away. He’d thought about it when he woke up with a nightmare of how Obi-Wan had died. He’d thought about it the moment he’d been informed their General would arrive soon.
He loved Obi-Wan. He’d never stopped.
It didn’t matter whether they were bound together as soulmates or not, he loved Obi-Wan Kenobi as he was; and something told him, that even if he met someone else as his soulmate, he always would love Obi-Wan.
“You love me? Still? After everything I’ve done?”
“I do. I love you, Obi-Wan, and the mission and your supposed death changes none of that. I know you don’t believe you’re my soulmate but I want you to be.” He paused for breath, composing himself before he continued. This was important. He couldn’t mess it up. “I want to spend my life with you, however long or short it is.”
“I can’t deny I have feelings for you but…” Obi-Wan looked as though the admission was for something more than just ‘feelings’ as he rested a hand over his heart. “I can’t keep you from your soulmate-”
“Obi-Wan.”
“Let me finish, please?” The Jedi waited for him to nod before he continued. “I’d be honoured to love you until you meet your true soulmate and once you do, I’ll bow out gracefully.”
“You truly are something else, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
“I should go,” Cody sighed as he placed one of the last few datachips on the done pile, looking at the dwindling to be addressed pile, full of non-urgent matters. “It’s late and the Chancellor is supposed to make contact with you early tomorrow.”
“You’d think they’d let me settle in first,” Obi-Wan groaned as he rubbed his eyes. He did look just as exhausted now as he did when he’d disappeared, more so, if that were possible. “And you don’t need to go anywhere if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t think he’d appreciate seeing a clone in your quarters,” he pointed out as he signed off on Slicer’s requisition list, deciding he’d rather remain unaware of why he wanted twice as many nuna legs this month. The last time he’d asked, he’d found out about the tooka in the engine room. Ignorance was better than knowledge when it came to their chef.
Obi-Wan was looking at him now, hands wrapped around his favourite mug and looking fond if exasperated, taking a long sip of the floral tea before he spoke. “Stay. We can share my bed.”
“Obi-Wan. The Chancellor will still call.”
“I saved his life by giving up my own for a month, I don’t think he’s allowed to complain too much.”
He stopped at that, feeling the datachip fall through his fingers onto the table. He’d never thought of why Obi-Wan had gone undercover or what it had done to the man, just what it had done to those he left behind.
He couldn’t exactly argue with the logic either. If Obi-Wan had saved the Chancellor, then the least the man could do was not complain about whoever shared his bed. “Alright. Just tonight.”
“I’ll finish these whilst you’re in the fresher, there are spare sleep clothes…” Obi-Wan trailed off because most of his belongings were still in boxes; he’d picked out the tea, his mug, his blanket and his sleep clothes to change into and left the rest for another day. “Well, you’ll know where they are.”
Obi-Wan was sitting on the edge of the bed once he’d returned, half-asleep already, his toothbrush sitting on the edge of the little sink in his kitchen area. He was more than ready for sleep from the looks of it so he laid down next to the wall; he preferred sleeping there, where his back was protected. He knew the Jedi was the opposite, he liked sleeping near the edge so he could get up easily if someone or something needed him.
“Obi-Wan?” He prompted lightly, pulling the blanket over him and found a sleepy Jedi curling up against him, eyes closed from the moment his head hit the pillow. Well, at least he’d get a few hours before the nightmares started since he was already fast asleep. “Goodnight, my beloved.”
There were no nightmares. Just the Jedi turning around in his sleep to hold him close.
—
They were getting married.
He knew he’d agreed to it. To the mission. To the marriage as a cover. To being Obi-Wan’s new husband, nervous about his first appearance in society to provide a distraction.
That didn’t mean he’d envisaged either of them standing at an altar in beautiful white suits less than three months after they’d first slept in the same bed.
He must have looked as nervous as he felt because Obi-Wan took his hand, squeezing it lightly to ground him and the warmth ran up his forearm again, just as it did every time they touched. That was as familiar as the kind blue eyes, the ginger hair and the sharp tongue of the man in front of him.
‘I’m alright,’ he mouthed, turning his attention to the person holding a very ornate book in their hands.
“Do you, Obi-Wan Kenobi take Cody Smith to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
It still felt strange to have a surname of some sort since he’d never been given one and he’d been content to be Cody for his entire life. It wasn’t really his surname, it was one he’d been given about ten minutes before the ceremony so it could actually happen. He was taking Obi-Wan’s surname as his own for the mission or it wouldn’t be as believeable.
“I do,” Obi-Wan answered with a fond look and he could feel his thumb running over his hand. He’d taken to the wedding idea surprisingly well once he’d clarified that it wouldn’t have an impact on him as a Jedi.
“Do you, Cody Smith take Obi-Wan Kenobi to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.”
“Then I pronounce you husband and husband.” The book was closed with a resounding thud and all that had changed was they now had matching rings on their fingers. “You may kiss.”
It was just a kiss, nothing too involved, not since their witnesses were General Yoda and Gree. If it had been Rex and Skywalker, they might have been less restrained, after all, Rex had known he loved Obi-Wan before he’d told his husband and Skywalker kissed around crowds of Senators.
He nodded to his brother and Yoda as he led Obi-Wan back down the aisle, wondering why the Jedi was looking at his forearm instead of him. They did have a cover story to keep up after all and they were meant to be deeply in love. Shooting a frown at a body part didn’t convey that, nor did dropping his hand to rub at it through his clothes.
“Are you alright, love?”
“Yes, yes, just…” Obi-Wan stopped rubbing his arm and smiled back at him, albeit a confused one. “It’s nothing to worry about, I’m sure.”
“We could find you a medic,” he offered although he didn’t have the first idea on how to get a medic outside of their med bay where Stitch was available for a grumpy consultation at any time he wasn’t asleep.
“Maybe in the morning if it persists. It’s most likely a bug bite of some sort.”
“You do have a way with animals.” That got a laugh, a proper one that made the blue eyes crinkle and a grin appear on his face for minutes afterwards. He loved that laugh. It was his favourite sound.
“Obi-Wan. There’s only one bed.” It was a pointless statement. They both had eyes; they could both see there was only one bed. It was twice the size of the one they often shared though and he knew without lying down, he could stretch out and not quite touch every corner.
“We’re married, dear, we only need one bed.” Obi-Wan was already taking off the suit jacket, the bowtie and the cufflinks, a flash of golden-orange showing on his forearm as he did so. “It’s not the first time we’ve slept together either, is it?”
“That’s certainly true,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek, just above the beard. “Do you want to use the fresher first? You take forever in the shower.”
He had been teasing his husband there, he didn’t take forever , but he did take nearly twice as long as he did and there were numerous bottles to use when he was still using the regulation ‘everything in one’ bottle that came in the care kit. Obi-Wan had given it a once over when he’d been given one and left it for someone else to take and use.
Regardless, it would give him plenty of time to have a look around the room and at the presents left on their table with a card before he needed to get washed and then changed into the very fancy outfit for the evening. He had no idea how long the embroidery on his jacket had taken and it looked like woven gold to match Obi-Wan’s dress robes which were something out of an archive’s holo from decades before rather than the plain fabric he saw every day.
The presents turned out to be chocolates, a bottle of champagne, some lovely but tiny tea cups that he knew Obi-Wan would treasure, and a bottle of something that smelt like flowers and alcohol.
He glanced over at the chrono to find it had nearly been half an hour and the shower wasn’t running. Obi-Wan didn’t usually stop in the fresher once he was done. “Obi-Wan? Love, can I come in?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered after a moment. It didn’t sound faint or pained which put his mind at ease over a possible fall. “I’m just…”
The Jedi was sitting on the floor when he entered, towel wrapped loosely around his legs, his left forearm in his lap, and he was staring at it. The reason was obvious enough. It said Kenobi but in the same colour as the sun on his armour, that beautiful golden orange that he’d taken as his colour in civilian clothes too and it was on Obi-Wan’s arm.
His colour. Force, his surname . They were married now, and their surnames were the same.
“It’s you…” Bewildered blue eyes met his own. “How is it you? Why wasn’t it there before?”
“I…” Oh, Force, they’d been such idiots. Obi-Wan couldn’t have had his surname written on his forearm because he’d been made with a number, not a name of any sort, and certainly not a surname . “I didn’t have a surname before.”
Obi-Wan just blinked as he traced the name, eyes full of wonder, and he supposed it was something completely new to him. Everyone else had their name from birth, it had been a part of him, and his husband had never had that.
“Well, that explains the arm,” he murmured offhandedly, gently brushing his hand against Obi-Wan’s arm and watching the writing sparkle, and he could see the Jedi trying not to touch it. “You’ll get that feeling every time we touch. I’ve had it for years.”
“You’re my soulmate.”
“Would it ruin the moment if I said ‘I told you so’?”
“Yes!” Obi-Wan laughed but opened his arms for a hug and practically melted into his touch. “Yes, it would, Cody Kenobi.”
“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about one thing,” he joked into the still-damp but soft hair as he pressed a kiss there.
“Hmm?”
“We won’t have to get divorced once this is over.”