fandom magpie. backing up from tumblr if i can make it cooperate.
Tag: commander cody
have some codywan in celebration of reaching 50% completion on law of our being(yes i know obi-wan isn’t technically that much shorter, deal with it) [AO3]
Cody smiled to himself as he brushed his teeth, listening to Obi-Wan
hum softly under the sonics. The ‘fresher attached to the General’s
quarters was private, but still small and basic. The logistics of
getting ready in the mornings when Cody had racked up with Obi-Wan was
both a treat of soft, sleep warm skin and an exercise in intimate space
sharing.
Theoretically, whoever as out of the bed first got the shower first,
the other taking the sink in the interim. Practically, Obi-Wan always
showered first, Cody clinging to sleep as long as possible before deftly
hurrying through his morning routine. Brush teeth, wash face, smooth
depilatory over his cheeks if he had developed appreciable stubble, run a
comb through his regulation high-and-tight. By the time he finished,
Obi-Wan was usually stepping out of the shower and so they swapped
places.
Stepping under the showerhead, Cody began washing up, listening as
Obi-Wan splashed in the sink. The quiet humming trailed off, and Obi-Wan
made a soft sound of dismay. Cody finished quickly, stepping out to
curiously look Obi-Wan over. His Jedi was frowning at his reflection in
the mirror, fussing with fingers and comb with his hair. It took a
moment more for Cody to realize the problem, then he smiled bemusedly.
“I’m not that old,” Obi-Wan fussed, frowning at Cody’s smile.
“You’re not,” Cody agreed, moving to hug Obi-Wan from behind, fingers
lightly ruffling through the white hairs that had begun to thread
through the copper art Obi-Wan’s temple. “It looks very distinguished,
and you could shave now without looking like a shiny.”
“I don’t want to look distinguished,” Obi-Wan pouted. Cody leaned in, kissing the paler hair, then the shell of Obi-Wan’s ear.
“I think you’re beautiful,” Cody assured, and Obi-Wan predictably flushed.
“You’re biased,” Obi-Wan accused, and Cody shrugged, nuzzling gently
against Obi-Wan’s silky hair. Obi-Wan huffed, but leaned into Cody for a
little longer before they parted to dress and do their duty.
It was always a split imperative in Cody’s mind, an ongoing debate
within himself whether Obi-Wan was safest tucked away in the Temple or
secured at Cody’s side on the Negotiator. After fiascos like the
Rako Hardeen incident, Cody had been loathe to let Obi-Wan out of his
sight. Days when they were under heavy bombardment, their shields
flickering and hull scorched by photon torpedoes, Cody wished more than
anything Obi-Wan was on Coruscant.
Days like this, when Obi-Wan was leaving the Negotiator for a
solo mission, or because he was needed on at the Temple, were the worst.
Obi-Wan traveled in his Delta-7, with only his astromech as company,
unwilling to pull a needed pilot from the fleet, despite his general
disdain for flying. It’s another decision that Cody argued over in his
mind at length. He doesn’t like Obi-Wan going off alone. He also needs
all his aviators right where they are.
Cody arrived in the hanger at almost the same time as Obi-Wan,
although from a different direction. Obi-Wan gave him a thin, tired
smile, clearly trying to put on a good face, but just as displeased by
this separation as Cody was himself. Reaching up as he approached, Cody
pulled off his helmet.
“Fly safe,” Cody said simply, cupping the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck in his hand. Obi-Wan nodded.
“Hopefully I won’t be gone long,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m of more use out here than in the Temple.”
“No argument from me,” Cody said with a slight smile. “Call me when you get home – to the Temple, you know what I mean.”
“My dear Commander,” Obi-Wan said, his smile warming into something
real and achingly sweet, “my home is wherever you are.” Cody felt his
cheeks heat, and leaned in to nuzzle their noses together.
“Then call me when you get there, and come home safe,” Cody said hoarsely, and Obi-Wan kissed him, nodded, and was gone.
It was always a split imperative in Cody’s mind, an ongoing debate
within himself whether Obi-Wan was safest tucked away in the Temple or
secured at Cody’s side on the Negotiator. After fiascos like the
Rako Hardeen incident, Cody had been loathe to let Obi-Wan out of his
sight. Days when they were under heavy bombardment, their shields
flickering and hull scorched by photon torpedoes, Cody wished more than
anything Obi-Wan was on Coruscant.
Days like this, when Obi-Wan was leaving the Negotiator for a
solo mission, or because he was needed on at the Temple, were the worst.
Obi-Wan traveled in his Delta-7, with only his astromech as company,
unwilling to pull a needed pilot from the fleet, despite his general
disdain for flying. It’s another decision that Cody argued over in his
mind at length. He doesn’t like Obi-Wan going off alone. He also needs
all his aviators right where they are.
Cody arrived in the hanger at almost the same time as Obi-Wan,
although from a different direction. Obi-Wan gave him a thin, tired
smile, clearly trying to put on a good face, but just as displeased by
this separation as Cody was himself. Reaching up as he approached, Cody
pulled off his helmet.
“Fly safe,” Cody said simply, cupping the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck in his hand. Obi-Wan nodded.
“Hopefully I won’t be gone long,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m of more use out here than in the Temple.”
“No argument from me,” Cody said with a slight smile. “Call me when you get home – to the Temple, you know what I mean.”
“My dear Commander,” Obi-Wan said, his smile warming into something
real and achingly sweet, “my home is wherever you are.” Cody felt his
cheeks heat, and leaned in to nuzzle their noses together.
“Then call me when you get there, and come home safe,” Cody said hoarsely, and Obi-Wan kissed him, nodded, and was gone.
Obi-Wan still sat, fully dressed and skin dull with dust, when Cody
returned to his – their – bunk hours after they’d entered hyperspace.
Pale eyes, often bright with purpose or lively with mirth, were flat and
colourless in the dimness. Cody eased the lights up a bit and began to
strip out of his armour, the soft click and thunk of the plastoid filling the silence.
“Okay?” Cody asked when the quiet began to grow unnerving. Obi-Wan’s
eyes flickered to him, but his mouth remained shut, lips pressed into a
thin line nearly hidden beneath his ruddy mustache. Cody sighed, then
peeled himself out of his blacks and went to the head, efficiently
cleaning himself off. It had been a long day.
Obi-Wan still sat on their bunk when Cody stepped out into the room,
and so he didn’t bother pulling on his sleep clothes. Instead, he knelt
on the sleeping pad at Obi-Wan’s side, reaching up to rest the backs of
his fingers against his Jedi’s scruffy cheeks. Obi-Wan glanced over
again, the long day – the long week, the long bloody war sitting heavy
in his gaze.
“You need to get ready for bed Ob’ika,” Cody reminded gently. Obi-Wan
blinked, as if confused. “Did you hit your head?” he asked, ever
present worry blooming in the back of his mind. Obi-Wan blinked again,
and his gaze slid off Cody’s face. His pupils looked equal. Cody gently
brushed his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair, feeling for bumps or
lacerations.
“I’m okay,” Obi-Wan finally managed to say.
“You’re not, but it’s nothing Poke can fix,” Cody said gently,
recognizing now that Obi-Wan’s depression was rearing its head.
Obi-Wan’s head was whole, and Cody could do nothing more for his heart
than he already did, guarding that tender home with vigilance. “Come on,
let’s get you cleaned up, I’ll do it for you.” Gently, he pulled
Obi-Wan off the sleeping bench and to his feet, striping away belt and
sashes and the layers of tabards and tunics beneath. Obi-Wan stood
docile and let him, then let Cody lead him into the ‘fresher.
Humming softly, Cody washed Obi-Wan’s hair, then the rest of him. His
heart ached for Obi-Wan, who felt so much it overwhelmed him at times,
who worked so hard he was little more than whipcord muscle and sinew
knit tight over the bone. When the war is over, Cody thought, and
then blinked – he wasn’t in the habit of thinking about a future on the
other side of the war, couldn’t remember ever previously allowing or
following that train of thought. He still didn’t quite believe he’d live
though the war. When the war is over, Cody thought, for perhaps the second time in his life, I’m going to travel with Obi-Wan, and we’ll figure out what his favourite food is, and he’ll be able to sleep.
Obi-Wan still sat, fully dressed and skin dull with dust, when Cody
returned to his – their – bunk hours after they’d entered hyperspace.
Pale eyes, often bright with purpose or lively with mirth, were flat and
colourless in the dimness. Cody eased the lights up a bit and began to
strip out of his armour, the soft click and thunk of the plastoid filling the silence.
“Okay?” Cody asked when the quiet began to grow unnerving. Obi-Wan’s
eyes flickered to him, but his mouth remained shut, lips pressed into a
thin line nearly hidden beneath his ruddy mustache. Cody sighed, then
peeled himself out of his blacks and went to the head, efficiently
cleaning himself off. It had been a long day.
Obi-Wan still sat on their bunk when Cody stepped out into the room,
and so he didn’t bother pulling on his sleep clothes. Instead, he knelt
on the sleeping pad at Obi-Wan’s side, reaching up to rest the backs of
his fingers against his Jedi’s scruffy cheeks. Obi-Wan glanced over
again, the long day – the long week, the long bloody war sitting heavy
in his gaze.
“You need to get ready for bed Ob’ika,” Cody reminded gently. Obi-Wan
blinked, as if confused. “Did you hit your head?” he asked, ever
present worry blooming in the back of his mind. Obi-Wan blinked again,
and his gaze slid off Cody’s face. His pupils looked equal. Cody gently
brushed his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair, feeling for bumps or
lacerations.
“I’m okay,” Obi-Wan finally managed to say.
“You’re not, but it’s nothing Poke can fix,” Cody said gently,
recognizing now that Obi-Wan’s depression was rearing its head.
Obi-Wan’s head was whole, and Cody could do nothing more for his heart
than he already did, guarding that tender home with vigilance. “Come on,
let’s get you cleaned up, I’ll do it for you.” Gently, he pulled
Obi-Wan off the sleeping bench and to his feet, striping away belt and
sashes and the layers of tabards and tunics beneath. Obi-Wan stood
docile and let him, then let Cody lead him into the ‘fresher.
Humming softly, Cody washed Obi-Wan’s hair, then the rest of him. His
heart ached for Obi-Wan, who felt so much it overwhelmed him at times,
who worked so hard he was little more than whipcord muscle and sinew
knit tight over the bone. When the war is over, Cody thought, and
then blinked – he wasn’t in the habit of thinking about a future on the
other side of the war, couldn’t remember ever previously allowing or
following that train of thought. He still didn’t quite believe he’d live
though the war. When the war is over, Cody thought, for perhaps the second time in his life, I’m going to travel with Obi-Wan, and we’ll figure out what his favourite food is, and he’ll be able to sleep.
16. Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble
…. omg I’m sorry I couldn’t help it. D: uhm, warnings for post-Order 66? And dang this turned out long. Cody is apparently a worry bastard?
=
It all was an accident, or maybe it was the Force, or Fate, or any number of things he had long stopped believing in. The Rebellion had found him after a bloody battle and pulled him free, cut his head open, and stopped the insidious voice whispering “Good Soldiers Follow Orders.”
The Rebellion had expected a Commander, a warrior, someone to help lead them. They didn’t know how to deal with a broken man who remembered aiming a cannon at his General, at his lover, and firing. He remembered everything he had done in the name of the Empire and all he wanted to do was lay down and die.
The accident wasn’t the Rebellion finding him, though, you have to understand that. The accident was a certain starship running out of fuel during a quiet run, it’s pilot needing to stretch his legs, and swearing a bluestreak over Rebellion comm channels for someone to fuel him up and let him be on his way. His codes were good, top of the line, and made Mon Motha smile. He knew to be wary of women when they smiled like that. A tractor beam grabbed the ship–more swearing, and very creativy at that–and pulled it in.
“Commander, would you care to do the honors?” the former senator asked.
He scowled at her but went over to the ship and forced it open. The pilot wasn’t going to come out unless someone made them come out. Once the canopy was off, however, he could do nothing but stare at the fuming human inside.
“G-general?” he whispered, certain he was hallucinating. His General was dead. This man, though, was older looking with hair streaked liberally with white and harsh lines carved into a tanned face. It was, without a doubt, still Obi-Wan Kenobi and he looked furious.
“Cody?” the ghost asked, surprise overcoming his face. He stood up from the cockpit and Cody grabbed him, needing to know he was real, to touch him, feel his warmth and hear his heartbeat. “Cody, it’s okay. It’s, it’s all right. I’m alive, you’re safe here. We’re both–”
“Shut up,” Cody said, clutching Obi-Wan to him as they sat on the wing of the ship. He could feel the other’s realness and he didn’t know if he was breaking anew or being made whole again. “I. You. I love you. I should have said it before, all the time, should never have let anything stop me–”
“Oh, Cody,” Obi-Wan murmured, wrapping his arms around him. “You did tell me. You don’t need words to say these things.”
“I need words,” Cody said, desperate. After so long of not being able to speak his own mind? He was going to say anything he kriffing well wanted. Staring with telling Obi-Wan how much he loved him, over and over again. He had years, decades, to make up for after all. He didn’t care what anyone else said or did, so long as they let him hold his General and let him whisper words of love to him.
wrennette 