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wexhappyxfew · 3 months

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light up my lover's way

BLIND DATES FEST 2024

featuring: Florence 'Flo' Godfrey and Captain Bernard 'Benny' DeMarco + Meatball being the ultimate wingman Absolutely beyond excited to put this out. Florence has been living in my brain for some time, but Masters of the Air and @blind-dates-fest (thank you Merc for the fun!) offered the perfect opportunity to do some writing and recently, with the episodes we've gotten, I've become a big DeMarco fan and wanted to see what I could do. I tried to really nail down how I could write him since we don't have a whole lot of content from him, and I didn't feel the most comfortable writing in the MoTA universe yet just because I wanted to see all the episodes first, but I wanted to give it the old college try and really enjoyed how this piece and how Florence came out! She was a treat to write and considering her story, this was a night for her well deserved! I missed out last year because of school stress and this year, wanted to be kinder to myself and allow some time to test out the waters with writing in MoTA. Please enjoy Flo and her time with DeMarco! :)

The mirror stared back at her with a more than poignant look on her face, as she gazed at her rugged-looking hair that had surely seen better days.

Extensive time out in the sun on the tarmac, with plenty of harsh oils and chemicals meant for planes and not exactly hair would do the trick though. Self-assured, she reached back and ripped a brush through the caramel ends of her hair that were in need of cutting and sighed quietly to herself before glancing back at her reflection.

Lemmons had encouraged her to take the night off - you've been working hard, Godfrey, take the night to get a drink or better yet, a full night of sleep where you're not thinking entirely about all things plane-related. She'd been pretty hesitant, she'd even told him that he was the one who needed the night off, but he'd quickly brushed some dirt off her shoulder, helped her scrub out the paint stain from her OD jacket and then promptly shoved her off in the direction of the celebration in the nearby hall that a good portion of the men and pilots had gathered into. She'd taken the time to gather herself, clean herself up and look presentable, but she was left appearing hesitant to even leave her room.

Florence Godfrey felt more mechanic some days than woman, but on days like that, she usually found some of the Red Cross girls and spent nights trading cigarettes, telling stories and sharing coffee from the potbelly stove in the corner that worked to keep them all warm. Sometimes, she tried to work so stringently that when she got in, she'd lay down and reflect and cry.

But, tonight wouldn't be one of those nights, no, her hands weren't covered in grease, her hair wasn't matted with sweat and her boots weren't soaked with mud and ice-cold water.

No, she actually had washed up, powdered her face, pulled a bit of lipstick onto her slightly chapped lips, and smiled to herself, the dress that fell below her knees a beautiful baby-bird blue.

Lemmons had been right - finally do something for yourself, give yourself the wheel of life. She wanted to do that for herself, more than anything.

The celebration in the hall was dying down - she took a glance at her watch - it was past midnight and people were slowly pouring out, a few couples still slowly swaying in the middle of the floor, some others milling about or talking quietly with gentle smiles in corners outside of the main doors.

Florence smiled quietly to herself - even just to get a drink that wasn't her inhaling water to keep herself from feeling parched. She'd never really allowed herself a freedom like this away from the planes, away from the other mechanics and ground crewmen. She'd always told herself to do her job, do what was needed of her and then bed out and wake the next time she was needed. She had always been like that though ever since working with Dad at the Navy Yard as a 9-year-old, learning all the bits and bobs that made things run and function.

Florence waded into the softly lit bar where only a few people were still at, finishing last minute drinks or basking in the quietly gleaming Billie Holiday singing 'If You Were Mine' over the speakers in the corners of the room. Florence walked up to the edge of the bar and offered a smile at the bartender who came towards her and offered a smile back and nodded.

"What can I interest you in tonight, Miss….?"

"Godfrey. Florence Godfrey," Florence said with a soft smile, "I'll take a French 75 if it's possible." The bartender smiled with a nod and turned away, whisking himself away to start prepping. Florence grinned to herself and then looked up towards the wooden ceiling, covered in pretty lights and patterned carvings.

Suddenly, she felt a presence at her….feet? Florence took a moment to think before looking down and seeing a beautiful, gray dog sniffing at her shoes, a brown harness around his soft fur and his puppy-dog eyes quickly looking up at her in excitement and glee.

"Awe, hello there!" Florence said, kneeling down in front of the mixed-husky dog, petting his face, her heart immediately softening at the sight as she laughed quietly to herself, "Aren't you the prettiest thing I've seen in months." The dog licked at her cheeks and she let out a laugh as she rubbed behind his ears, the dog's tongue hanging out as his whole body seemed to shake with excitement, tail in all directions.

"Hey, Meatball, don't go sneaking up on the ladies," a voice called from behind the dog.

Florence looked up from, if she caught the name correctly - Meatball, the dog - and found instead one of the pilots of the B-17s walking towards her, gentle eyes lingering on her, long enough for a crimson color to rush her cheeks, his hair dark and nicely cut and styled, and the small smile on his face suddenly making her think that this pilot was actually the prettiest thing she'd seen in months. Florence felt a warmth enter her body, a quiet calm overcoming her as she felt an uncontrollable smile cross her lips, as she slowly rose back to her feet and watched the pilot come closer, the thrum of a quiet Louis Armstrong song entering her ears.

"Italian or Swedish?" Florence couldn't help but say as the pilot neared, his eyes deep and dark, but soothing and welcoming all the same. The pilot let out a soft laugh, his eyes trailing down to Meatball, the dog - she'd never get over how adorable that was - before looking to her.

"Italian." he said, with a nod, "Why? Don't think he fits the part?" Florence let out a quiet laugh and kneeled down again to Meatball and scratched beside his little head and laughed.

"I think he's adorable," she said, "how'd you get a hold on him?" The pilot smiled at her and leaned against the bar.

"Boarded a B-17 with me back in Greenland, was a real good sport the whole flight," the pilot said and then shrugged a bit, "I think I convinced him that he'd make a good co-pilot." Florence laughed as she stood to her feet again and looked at him with soft eyes.

"I don't think it'd be proper of me to only think of you as Meatball's Dad," she said, watching the small smile on his face quickly grow, "gotta name?"

"DeMarco. Captain Bernard DeMarco, but you can just call me DeMarco, whatever suites your fancy." he said, before chuckling slightly, before imitating, "Some of the guys like to yell, DeMarcooooo!" Then he looked to her and smiled.

"You don't have to do all that though," he said, leaning closer slightly, "Benny'll do just fine. Special cases." Florence stared at him quietly for a moment and then grinned.

"Benny it is…..Captain," she said, before holding out a hand, "Godfrey. Florence Godfrey, but you can just call me Godfrey, whatever suites your fancy." She smirked slightly at his face as he reached out and shook her hand.

"Some of the guys I work with like to yell," and she woefully imitated Lemmons, "Godfreyyyyy!" She then leaned closer to him and smiled up into his beautiful, tender eyes.

"You don't have to do all that though," she whispered, "Flo'll do just fine…..special cases." Benny stared at her for a moment, before breaking out into a wide smile and gently holding her hand in between them like a sacred piece of life.

"Goddess of flowers," he whispered quietly, his voice a soft rumble, "Flo." She smiled up at him.

"Ma thought it was pretty." she offered to him. He smiled at her in the dimmed light of the bar, that Ella Fitzgerald song she was always forgetting the name of somewhere above their heads, eyes warm and simply, only on her.

"Your Ma was right." he said back to her, staring at her with genuineness and fullness in his eyes. She felt her face warm and let out a laugh at his words, covering her mouth as she did so. Looking back up at him, she watched him stare right back at her and smiled as her hand fell from her mouth.

"I've never seen you around in here before," he said softly, "couldn't help but introduce myself, or well, Meatball, for introducing us." Florence looked down to Meatball, sat patiently staring up between them with his ever-caring eyes that dogs always seemed to have.

"He likes you," Benny said, his hand, which evidently was larger than hers, still clasped around her own, with no sign of disconnecting soon, "he's a friendly fella, but he don't just go up to anyone." Florence's eyes softened as she rubbed her free hand on top of Meatball's soft little head and glanced to Benny again.

"Dogs are probably some of the best creatures to ever walk to Earth," she said with a smile, "Sometimes they know us better than ourselves. I like to think sometimes they're protecting us, or….just there to guide us, be with us, give us someone who unconditionally loves you, ya know?" Benny's smile on his face was something that engrained itself quickly in her mind and he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," he said softly, "I like to think of it that way, too." For a moment, as Ella Fitzgerald sang her part, the gentle thrum of a bass and brass to follow, they watched each other as if taking in the very quiet moment they had there between one another that night. An unexpected chance for Florence to get out of her normal gear and into a dress, to have her hands free of grease for the first time in a while, and to be looked at by a man with the softest eyes she'd ever seen - with a dog named after an Italian meatball no less.

"I'd ask for your hand in a dance, but I'm afraid that French 75 is calling your name and Meatball would take offense," Benny said, his eyes seemingly nervously flitting to the drink that had appeared at her side before meeting hers again, "and I know you're one of the women who works with the ground crews….I'd hate to steal an evening away from a good drink." Florence watched him.

"You know I work with the ground crews?" Benny nodded with a smile.

"You hang around Lemmons a lot," Benny offered, "and you work hard. We all see that. Buck does, too. Mentioned you were the best of the best. Didn't want to be too forward when I heard you tell the bartender your name." Florence watched him, as he gave Meatball a smile and a pet on the head before he looked to her again.

"Ma didn't raise me to be impolite either," he said with a nod, "and you've earned an off night like this and a drink like that."

"And a night getting to talk to a man like you." Florence said quietly to him, her heart starting to pound as he watched her - no one ever really had mentioned her in the way he had, having noticed her before and even made the effort to talk to her like he had. Her palms felt sweaty, and her mouth felt dry. Benny watched her for a moment as she took a sip of her drink and then looked to him.

"I'd be more than happy to spend a night dancing with you," she whispered.

There was something unspoken behind her words - like the realization was still there, they just hadn't mentioned in. In war, moments like this were precious and sheltered and held close in the palms of their hands. A night with someone with tender eyes was worth more than enough money in the world to her, especially in wartime. The thought saddened her heart and her mind as she stared at Benny DeMarco, with that million-dollar smile and those eyes. Benny let out a shaky breath that he looked like he'd been holding in and reached forward to take her hands in his and leaned forward the slightest bit so the only things she could see and hear were him and his voice.

"With you? I'd consider it a privilege." he whispered and then pressed a soft kiss to her hands clasped in his and then gently pulled her towards the open dance floor where only a few couples were left and had made it this late in the night. Wrapped in each other's warm embraces there in the middle of the floor, Billie Holiday's voice singing in the eves, and the gentle sway of their bodies so intimately close there, Florence let herself dance softly that night with Benny DeMarco.

Florence let herself live a bit for once.

#yeah i love them #THEM #*holds gently in hands*#*sobs*#florence 'flo' godfrey #bernard demarco #+meatball fav of favs #love meatball being the wingman #masters of the air #hbo war #mota #blind dates fest 2024 #this was an utter JOY to write i hope anyone who reads also enjoys!!!#love these two with my whole heart!#flo deserves to live a little :)#mota writings

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lamaenthel · 5 months

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Tivaevae | Chapter Four: Reverse Appliqué

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

| AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 7,979 Chapter Summary: Boba prepares to go to Kamino, Rex and Cody meet Taarak, and Ahsoka tries to bond with her new charge.

The rec room was quiet except for the gentle, achingly familiar snoring coming from the clones and an alien rumble coming from Tano that reminded Boba of an old speeder engine that needed white grease on the char scrubbers. He laid there quietly and just listened. It was still early, and there had been a stampede of troopers into the bunks a few hours ago. Some were milling around being loud, still drunk from their night out and in search of food. Several times the rec room door had opened until Tiarek had finally gotten up and locked it, then there was a procession of identical men squinting through the transparasteel window that would nod when they saw a pile of sheets and pillows on the floor and move on.

Someone down the hall was singing loud and off-key. "Fives," Tano mumbled, raising her big head from where it'd been pillowed on Jesse's chest. Her face was all squished and creased on the side that she'd been laying on. "Shut up, par shab'jorbe."

Boba flexed his toes and wiggled his fingers. Despite the noise, or maybe because of it he'd slept like a rock, and it felt like he hadn't moved a muscle in hours. Robert had become trapped underneath him at some point and his duro-plastic eye was poking into Boba's ribs.

Tano sat up with a struggle and yawned loudly. "Gotta pee," she said sleepily, creeping out of the fort and towards the door on all fours. "Be right back. Stay, Boba."

"Mmph." He put his head back on Tiarek's chest and closed his eyes. He didn't want to get up. It'd been so long that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to wake up warm and safe.

" –in the morning and I step outside, and I take a deep breath and– oh hey, Commander! How'd–" The door slid shut and cut off the rest of whatever Fives was going to say, but there was a muffled yelp and a thump.

Tiarek snorted underneath him. Boba opened his eyes and saw he was looking back, smiling. "Morning." He patted Boba on the back. "Sleep alright?"

Boba hadn't slept so well since before he'd left Kamino. "Mm."

Tiarek chuckled. "Good."

"Nnnnng." Boba curled up a little tighter in a ball.

Kix at his back yawned and stretched. "Time?" he asked drowsily.

Tiarek glanced at the chrono above the door. "Oh-five-twenty." He scratched Boba's scalp gently with his fingers. "We should get up. You leave at oh-six."

"No," Boba mumbled.

"Yes. Come on." With a groan, Tiarek sat up and brought Boba with him like he was a reluctant tooka refusing to abandon an old woman's lap. "Big day."

"I don't wanna go to Kamino." Boba slid back down and stretched along Kix's back. The medic let out a sleepy chuckle.

"Yeah, I don't blame you." Tiarek patted his leg sympathetically. "Just stick with Ahsoka. She'll bite any longneck that tries to touch you."

Tup snickered. "She'll bite 'em just because. She's not too fond of the kaminiise."

"Why?" Boba asked.

"She, ah…" Tup sat up, his hair falling neatly around his face. Boba had to wonder how he got it to do that. Even though his hair had never been as long as Tup's, when he still had some it had always looked like a bird's nest when he woke up. "She doesn't like how they consider us products."

"She really doesn't," Kix snickered. "Don't get her started on the non-sentient thing either, unless you want to hear her cuss in every language she knows. Shyriiwook included."

"She speaks Shyriiwook?" Boba almost laughed.

"Yep."

"And if you do anything to get her in trouble while you're at Kamino, cyar'solus, it's not the longnecks you'll need to be afraid of." Jesse's eyes opened and he glared right at Boba.

"Jesse–" Tiarek growled.

"I don't care if he's–" Jesse began heatedly, but was interrupted by the door sliding open.

Ahsoka walked back in, yawning and stretching and holding a brown paper bag with handles. "Wolffe was just here. Plo got these for you." She tossed the bag down at the entrance of the fort and put her hands on her hips. "Now what could have possibly happened in the ninety seconds that I was gone to make this room so damn red?"

"Red?" Boba asked, confused.

"Don't worry about it, Commander," Jesse replied. He scooted out of the fort, got to his feet, then kissed her on the forehead. "Good luck at Tipoca City. Watch your back."

"Will do," she said, and watched him leave with a frown.

Kix gave Boba a pat and then crawled out after Tiarek. "Nice meeting you, squirt. Don't break any more ribs."

Boba's cheeks reddened and he dug through the bag Tano had dropped. Inside were a pair of black canvas pants with loads of pockets, a matching jacket, gray leather boots, and a soft blue tunic that matched Tiarek's battalion colors. He tried not to smile. He was glad he wasn't going to have to keep wearing the dumb cadet blues.

"I'll meet you in the hangar," Tano said, then glanced at Tiarek. "I'm gonna go talk to Jesse, quick, okay?"

Tiarek nodded. "Good luck," he intoned, smiling softly.

Boba glanced between the two. Were they fucking or not? They certainly gave each other a lot of lingering looks for people who weren't fucking.

Aurra had never looked at him like that, he realized. There was a dull ache in his chest that felt like jealousy.

"Well, get dressed," Tiarek yawned. "I'll go kit up. You too, Private, PT starts at seven."

"For the record, I volunteered to come," Tup smiled at him before crawling out of the fort.

Boba watched him leave and then shook out his new clothing. "So you and Tano," he said casually. "That a secret? You could have told me, I'm not a snitch."

"Wh– no, Boba." Tiarek crossed his arms, rolled his eyes and turned pink. "It's not like that with us. She's my vod'ika and my commanding officer. I've known her since she was fourteen, and–"

"And you were what, eleven?" Boba shucked his blues and hopped into his new pants.

"Ten," Tiarek said dryly. "Not relevant. That's not how it works with us, you know that. Our brains grow just as fast as the rest of us."

From somewhere nearby came the sound of a crash, hysterical laughter, screaming, and then rapid thumping as someone hoofed it at top speed past the rec room; it was closely followed by muffled cursing and a demand to give it back shabuir!

Boba rolled his eyes and kept dressing. " 'Kay."

"If I go kit up while you're wasting time, will you run off?" Tiarek asked. His cheeks were getting darker by the second.

"And miss breakfast?" Boba reclined back in the pillow fort, fully dressed.

Tiarek smiled. "Be right back." The door slid shut behind him. He didn't lock it.

Boba considered his options. He had a fresh set of clothing, no supervision, and plenty of gear he could steal and pawn for a quick buck to get off-world. He could head to Eburnea, Shaddy was probably still guarding the backrooms of that Neimodian restaurant. Grab a fake ID from the lower levels, hold onto a deece… it'd be easier than skinning a womprat.

These Jedi trusted too easily. He'd played along with them for less than a day and they thought they had him domesticated. Tiarek, though, would never forgive him for–

Boba sat up with a jolt as he remembered. He couldn't run. Going to Kamino was his last chance of getting it back.

"Boba!" Dad called from the cargo hold. "Boba, where's my lockbox?"

"The lockbox?" Boba swallowed hard. "You didn't say–"

"What?" Dad looked up the ladder at him. "You forgot it?"

"I'm not supposed to touch it," Boba said, eyes wide. "You said never to–"

"I said to grab our things!" Dad roared. He kicked the ladder with his beskar boot and the whole thing rang like a bell. "What is wrong with you? Why would you leave it?"

He'd been so caught up in his quest to kill Windu that he had forgotten to even look the last time he was there. If Tiarek said that he could trust Tano to not sign him over to the longnecks then he'd just have to trust her. It was his last chance to get that lockbox. If he got it, maybe he could show Tiarek and he'd remember him again.

Plus, he kind of wanted to see Tano bite a longneck. He'd heard stories about Tog venom. She could tell him if it was really just a myth.

He laid back down and pulled Robert under one arm. He'd missed his window if he was going to run. He was just going to have to see this through.

"Ready to get going?" Tiarek asked, poking his head around the door. The angle of his head caught the light just right and made the scar on his chin shine.

Boba swallowed hard and looked at Robert. "I guess."

Boba avoided the stares of the clones they passed on the way to the hangar. When he'd been sprinting through the halls yesterday, most of them had assumed he was just a cadet. They all knew exactly who he was, now, and most of them looked at him the same way that Jesse did.

Tiarek didn't give a damn. He kept a hand on Boba's shoulder and met the eyes of every man who threw a glare at him. Koon, Tano and a quartet of clones in gray armor were waiting for them in the hangar. They weren't alone, there was a bald Jedi with horrible razor rash and bloodshot eyes standing near them.

It took him a solid five seconds to recognize that it was fucking Kenobi without the beard.

"Boba." The bastard gave him a short bow and a simpering smile. "I'm glad to see that you're alright. I'm terribly sorry for not acting immediately to ensure your release."

Tano had that pinched look on her face again and her rear lek was wiggling back and forth like a tooka's tail right before it pounced. Boba remembered an old Togruta merc Dad had told him about once. The man ate raw meat, liked to play games with his bounties while he hunted them, and had a habit of pissing on people's boots to 'claim' them. He'd laughed and said that the only real difference between him and a tooka were the feet.

From what he'd overheard at the diner, Kenobi had pulled some shit that devastated both her and Skywalker on an undercover mission. She probably wouldn't be too mad if he socked the fucker in the nuts, but Tiarek's hand was very heavy on his shoulder.

"Well, we need to stay on schedule," Tano said, like they weren't still twenty minutes away from their departure slot. "Thank you for seeing us off, Master Kenobi."

"Now wait just a moment, Padawan Tano," he replied with narrowed eyes. "Did you obtain permission from your Master to travel off-world?"

Tano glared at him. "I am under the direct supervision of Master Plo."

"That's not what I asked," Kenobi smirked. "Did you obtain permission from Master Skywalker to escort Boba Fett to Kamino?"

"No," she answered shortly.

"You are not allowed to leave the planet without it." Kenobi crossed his arms.

"Master Kenobi, is this really necessary?" Koon asked wearily.

"I'm simply abiding by the guidelines of the Order, Master," Kenobi said in a smarmy voice that made Boba want to kick him in the kneecaps.

"Are you now?" Tano nearly spat at him.

"Yes, dear." Kenobi smiled, and it wasn't nice. "After all, it is my responsibility to prevent egregious harm from befalling any child of the Order."

"Fine." Tano pulled her commlink up and dialed a frequency.

Kenobi snorted. "Oh good luck, he's ignor–"

"Hey Snips, what's wrong?"

Kenobi looked offended.

"Hi, Master," she said sunnily. "Nothing's wrong. Can I go to Kamino with Master Plo? We won't be long."

"Yeah, sure– ow, ayi, Taarak! Palibe kuluma!"

"Thanks, Master. See you in a few days."

"Now wait just a–" Kenobi began angrily, but Tano had already closed the channel. "Ahsoka!"

"He was busy, Master Kenobi!" Tano said innocently. "We really must be going. Thank you again for seeing us off."

"You're not going anywhere until I speak to you about your attitude," Kenobi snapped. He reached for her left arm but she was too fast and spun it out of reach.

"Don't," she said, ice cold.

Boba narrowed his eyes. "Hey, fuckface," he interrupted. He didn't like whatever power play was going on here. Tano was too nice for her own good, she didn't deserve to be jerked around. "You know they make creams for that, right?" He pointed at the bastard's bright red scalp with his lips.

Kenobi's mouth dropped open.

"Boba, please don't swear at Master Kenobi," Tano squeaked, trying not to laugh.

Tiarek squeezed Boba's shoulder threateningly. "Stop," he said in a low voice.

"I've got fucking freedom of fucking speech, remember?" Boba asked blithely. "We're leaving, Kenobi. Fuck off."

Kenobi looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "Now see here, young man–" he began heatedly.

"Go find a tree to scratch your clappy head on, cunt," Boba said casually.

Tano's eyes bulged and she slapped a hand over her mouth a second too late to cover her shriek of laughter.

"Boba!" Tiarek barked. "Do not speak to General Kenobi like that. Apologize."

Boba smiled. "Sorry your head looks like–"

"Boba!" Tiarek hissed.

"What, I said sorry!"

"Enough," Koon boomed in an unexpectedly loud voice. He strode over and rested his hands on Tano and Kenobi's shoulders, then looked at Boba. "Boba, as a ward of the Republic you do indeed have freedom of speech. This freedom does not mean that others are obligated to accept abuse without question, or even to listen to you. It means that you cannot be arrested for it." He turned to look at the walking collection of ingrown hairs. "Master Kenobi, Ahsoka has obtained permission from her Master to travel and we will be taking off momentarily. There is no valid reason for her to remain. The two of you may speak upon her return."

Koon gave Kenobi's shoulder a squeeze and he looked down. "Safe travels, Padawan," Kenobi said finally, backing up out of Koon's grip. "I hope you find what you seek. May the Force be with you."

Tano looked like she wanted to cry. She stared at her feet. "And you, Master," she mumbled.

"Go ahead and say your goodbyes, young man," Koon said over his shoulder, walking back to the fueling station.

"Come here, you little stinker." Tiarek spun him around and lifted him into a big wampa hug. "Behave. Please."

"Fine," Boba grouched while hugging him back, maybe a little too hard. "You sure you can't come with us?"

"You don't need me." Tiarek set him down and smiled. "Just trust my vod'ika. She'll take care of you."

Boba eyed the Tog wringing her hands. "If you say so," he said dubiously.

"I do." He reached over and pulled Tano into a one-armed hug. "No walking off with any tubies on Kamino, littl'un. Longnecks don't appreciate shoplifting."

Tano snickered and rubbed her lek on his cheek. "Buzzkill."

"But if you get a chance…" Tiarek hesitated.

Tano gave him a sad smile. "I'll try. I doubt they'll let me, but I promise I'll try."

"Try what?" Boba asked.

They exchanged looks. "Just tell him we haven't forgotten," Tiarek said quietly, then ran his hand over Boba's stubble. "No running off, you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Oh!" Tano pulled Tiarek's head to her mouth and whispered something in his ear.

He flushed. "It's a flower from Mandalore. It's slang for blond." he mumbled.

Boba looked at his new boots so Tiarek wouldn't see the hurt look in his eyes.

"Ah." Tano gave Tiarek a gentle hip check before walking Boba up the docking ramp. "Come on, help me find Plo's box of nerf jerky," she said with a bright smile that didn't reach her eyes. "If Wolffe finds it first, it'll be gone before we hit the Rishi maze."

Rex remembered the day he discovered his General's secret marriage like it was yesterday. He'd been invited to meet Skywalker in the small, unfinished lounge that served as his personal meditation room at 1100 for his post-mission debrief since it involved a higher level of clearance. The room wasn't off limits by any means, but Skywalker and Ahsoka reserved the right to kick anyone out for a bit of peace and quiet. The problem was that it was early in the war and they were still getting to know each other. He hadn't known yet that his Jedi had the short-term memory of a Mon Cala polar oyster.

Now, of course, he knew Skywalker well enough to never walk into even a public room that he'd been alone in without knocking first and giving him at least ten seconds to pull his pants up and end his holocall with Senator Amidala. It would be a lesson that he would never forget, despite his best efforts.

The trauma that his naivete had inflicted had come with a distinct upside for the 501st, though; the patronage of an independently wealthy former Queen. At first it'd been higher quality rations from Karlinus, then little gift boxes of sweets and games, but she'd escalated into full-on bribery. They had holos and games from all over the damn galaxy, junk food from planets Rex had never heard of, and best of all, beer. And not the cheap stuff, they got craft osik shipped straight from Naboo. He had to assume that it was to ensure that even if he opened his mouth and blabbed up the chain of command, the rest of the boys would be so endeared to the Senator that they'd side with her.

That wasn't how it worked, obviously, but Rex wasn't about to tell her that.

"So." Cody popped open the bottle of Blue Veruna that Rex had brought over after Ahsoka had left with Boba and the Wolfpack, then plopped down next to him on the stupidest piece of furniture that had ever been designed; another gift from the Senator, a neon-orange sofa that felt like a cloud but looked like it had hemorrhoids. "I need to talk to you about something… sensitive."

Rex narrowed his eyes. "Sensitive how?" he asked, taking a suspicious swig of his own drink.

"About Skywalker and Ahsoka." Cody looked uncomfortable, and Rex really didn't like how his ori'vod had phrased that.

"Spit it out, Codes." If he was about to imply something untoward then Rex needed to set him straight as soon as possible. Shabla haran, it seemed like the kid couldn't so much as sneeze in a man's direction nowadays without being accused of doing something else with him. It stung, coming from Cody.

"Well, I know his teaching style is a little…" Cody hesitated. "Unorthodox. But has he ever–"

" –not the point, Obi-Wan! You never listen to what people are actually saying to you without planning on how you're going to make them feel like an idiot the whole time they're speaking!"

They looked at each other, stunned at the unexpected sound of an angry General Skywalker.

"When did he get back?" Rex asked, overlapping Cody's bewildered "Why is he here?"

"I'm at my limit, Padawan, I really am. I have never been disrespected like this over and over again, in public no less!"

"Oh please, Ahsoka's being formal with you and not letting you scratch her head, cry me a river."

"Don't minimize what she's really doing!"

Skywalker stormed into the officer's lounge with a ruddy orange Togruta toddler on his hip and an even ruddier Kenobi practically foaming at the mouth right behind him. "Watch him for a minute, he's getting upset by all of the yelling," Skywalker growled, "Which I don't see stopping since somebody won't leave me the hell alone." He handed Rex the toddler, threw a leather satchel that had been converted into a diaper bag on the couch beside him, then stormed out with Kenobi still sputtering.

"Uh–" Rex held the blinking kit like an expensive vase. "Sir, I–"

"She said egregious, Anakin, do you know how humiliating it is to be accused of egregious child abuse in front of–" their voices died off as they made it down the hall.

"Well then." Cody took another swig. "Looks like Skywalker's back."

"Cody, what do I do," Rex asked, his voice getting higher. "He's… he's tiny."

The kid's lip began to quiver.

"Cody, please," Rex said faintly.

"Give him here." Cody put his beer down, took the toddler from Rex and cuddled him against his chest. "It's a baby, not a bomb, calm down."

"It's a baby jetii," Rex said, relieved. He took a swig from his own beer to calm down.

"Yeah, and?" Cody rubbed the kid's back. "Udesii, ad'ika, you're alright. No tears. Skywalker will be right back."

The Togruta whimpered and snuggled against Cody's chest. He looked up from under his lashes at Rex.

"Hi, ad'ika," Rex said hesitantly, waving his finger at him.

The toddler broke out into a tiny, needle-fanged smile, revealing a deep set of dimples."Hi," he squeaked. "Hi. Hihihi."

"There we go." Cody smirked at Rex. "Since when are you scared of babies? I distinctly remember you carrying tubies around by the head."

"I'm not scared," Rex said defensively, "I just don't… It's a Togruta baby. I don't know how delicate they are."

"They're more durable than humans." Cody rolled his eyes and gently patted the kid's montral nubs. "They come with a built-in helmet, remember? I'd think that you'd be used to baby Togrutas anyway."

Rex snorted. "Ahsoka isn't a baby."

"Debatable."

Rex frowned. "What were you asking about before?"

Cody looked uncomfortable again. "Has Skywalker ever…" he paused. "Hurt her? When he was in a mood?"

Rex burst into shocked laughter. Was he insane? Skywalker adored his Padawan. "No," he wheezed. "I mean, the stunners were hard on her at first and he's flipped her rough a few times when sparring, but he would never hurt her, not on purpose. Not unless it was absolutely necessary for training. And if he did it accidentally, he'd beat himself up over it and carry her like a baby to the medbay if he didn't just heal it himself."

"Has he taken her to the medbay lately?" Cody bounced the kid on his lap, who had started to purr.

Rex's grin faltered. "Why are you asking me this?" he asked with an uneasy, tight feeling in his chest.

"Something happened to her arm," Cody said quietly. "Something she doesn't want anyone to notice. I had to order her to tell me what happened and she claimed it was an injury from a classified training exercise. We both know that they weren't running any training exercises last week, not with everything going on."

Rex couldn't think of anything that she'd been involved in that would fit that description and felt his chest somehow tighten even more. "Maybe she just… did something embarrassing," he offered lamely. Boba's defensive eyes in the locker room flashed in his mind's eye. He knew Boba was lying then, too.

"Rex." Cody gave him the ori'vod look that drove him insane and made him feel like a cadet again at the same time. "You know I wouldn't bring this up at all if I wasn't actually worried."

"What were her exact words?" Rex demanded.

Cody sighed. "I asked her what happened. She said it was a training accident with mechanical ordnance. I asked who was supervising it and she said it was classified and only Skywalker could release that information."

Rex looked away. That was a cagey lie or a half-truth at best, and sounded exactly like something Ahsoka would say if she had been injured by someone and was trying to hide it. He felt sick when he realized that a mech hand would qualify as mechanical ordnance.

Cody looked unhappy. "I only served with him for a few months before he was knighted and made a general," he said quietly. "I don't know him like you do, but I remember that he had a hair-trigger temper, especially when he's stressed. And he and Kenobi are practically sewn together at the hip. We both know he probably didn't handle the Hardeen operation well."

Rex had an inkling about how well his General had handled it. He'd only seen Ahsoka for maybe five minutes during the whole ordeal. The dozens of messages he'd sent had gone unanswered for hours, only for her to message him back in the middle of the night to say that she was fine but she needed to stay with Skywalker. "But why would he hurt Ahsoka?" Rex asked bitterly. He stood up and started to pace. If… if Skywalker actually had hurt her, what could he do? His job was to protect his Jedi, yes, but did that also mean from each other?

"I don't think he meant to, but I think something happened." Cody gave him a sympathetic look. "I know that it's the last thing you'd want to consider, Rex, but I think we owe it to Ahsoka to at least try to find out."

"Then what?"

Cody bit his lip and looked away. "I don't know." The kid made a distressed whistle and reached for Rex. Cody chuckled. "I think he wants you, vod'ika."

Rex stopped pacing and gingerly took the toddler from Cody. He cooed and rested his fat little head right over Rex's heart, then patted his chest softly. "Inn-day, inn-day," he sang softly.

Rex didn't know what it meant, but he got the impression that the kid was trying to comfort him.

"Yeah, kid, inn-day." He sighed and looked at Cody. "I'll ask. I have no idea what I'm going to say, but I'll ask."

"Good man." Cody stood up, clapped him on the shoulder, then made for the door.

"Where are you going?" Rex asked in alarm.

"Gonna find some meat for the little biter." Cody grinned. "He's too young for beer. I think Os'ika still has landjaegers in the mess freezer. Try not to drop him for five minutes."

Rex looked at the kit. The kit looked back with big, dark blue eyes. He felt his nerves start to relax and he smiled at the toddler. He really was a cute little thing, with red-orange skin and little stubby blue lekku. Was he from the southern continent like Ahsoka? He could have sworn that Skywalker said that he was going to Toydaria, but this was clearly no Toydarian. He smelled warm and spicy, like musky pollen. It was similar to how Ahsoka smelled but completely different at the same time.

The toddler made a little meowing noise and rested his head on Rex's chest. His little white ink blots were in the center of his cheeks, reminding Rex of Senator Amidala's makeup when she was Queen of Naboo, and then one right in the middle of his forehead.

"So what's your name?" Rex asked, swaying gently back and forth.

The toddler smiled his little toothy grin again and reached for the holotags around Rex's neck. "Wooo-waaa-laaa," he sang softly. He traced the round tag with his finger and sighed happily. "Monnngo eeeee-nuuuu."

"Heh." Rex had no idea what that meant but he continued to sway back and forth, happy to just watch the little boy.

"Alright, sorry that took so long, I had to fight Wooley for the shabla zapper." Cody brandished a sausage at the toddler and he squealed in response.

"You were barely gone a minute," Rex frowned.

Cody turned and looked at the chrono above the door. "More like ten." He bit off a piece and chewed it in preparation.

Rex glanced at the chrono to confirm and then looked at the kid in his arms with suspicious eyes. He blinked at him adorably, purring like a kitten.

Maybe that rumored Togruta baby hypnosis was real after all.

The consular cruiser was the favored vessel of Jedi and diplomats long before the war. Painted bright red to signal both its origin from Coruscant and its neutral status as a humanitarian vessel, Ahsoka thought it resembled a freshly-steamed shrimp when viewed from above. The brand-new turbolaser cannons were enormous. When she'd excitedly plopped into the operator seat Master Plo had immediately shooed her away for fear of her being unable to resist temptation. It was only a little insulting, mainly because he wasn't actually wrong.

The cabin with the Dorin gas pod was reserved for Plo. Ahsoka, Boba and the Wolfpack planned on hotracking the remaining two for the duration of the mission. After dropping off their things in their lockers and jumping into hyperspace, they left Plo's Arseven in charge of navigation and gathered in the salon pod. It was nicer than Ahsoka had expected; Plo had been able to beg the cruiser off of a Kel Dor diplomat and it had recently been refurbished. The salon pod had dark gray walls, a soft red carpet, a massive white sofa that spanned the length of the room, and a brand-new enth-cube holoconsole in the center of it all.

The Wolfpack took sprawling seats across the couch while Plo started floating in the corner, presumably to meditate. It was a clear and open invitation. Ahsoka wasn't in the mood yet, not so soon after having to fight off kriffing Master Kenobi again.

Wolffe ripped open a bag of nerf jerky and began inhaling it. The bastard had already hidden it before they'd gotten on board. Ahsoka watched Boba fling himself onto the opposite side of the sofa from the Wolfpack with Robert under his arm. "Not bad," he said appreciatively while looking around the pod, his aura gone a quiet, dim blue with contentment.

Ahsoka was glad to see it. He was all over the place with his emotions, it was exhausting. She just wanted him to be happy for a few minutes, was that so much to ask? He'd been through so much. She couldn't stand seeing so much hurt in a little boy.

The slumber party had helped. She knew it would. Boba might have been raised apart and unaltered, but he was still a clone. The clone pile had returned the green tint to his natural aura that Ahsoka had feared was gone for good after she'd put her foot in her mouth with the sleepover comment, and it was even stronger than before.

She still couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with him and Rex. They were way, way too familiar to be the mildly-pleasant acquaintances Rex had made them out to be, but Boba didn't seem to want to talk about it any more than he did. She was afraid to push. He was on the precipice of a breakthrough, she could sense it, and he could either fall into her arms or shatter on the wrong side and become totally unreachable.

She just had to play it safe. Keep him in a good mood, try not to make him feel awkward or unwelcome, and be supportive. Easy peasy, except the Wolfpack apparently shared the same opinion of Boba that Jesse did. She couldn't really blame them, not after Abregado, but zisiyeni if it didn't make her goal harder. And Boba was picking up on it, too. He didn't have to be an Empath to be able to sense that she and Plo were the only ones who wanted him on board.

There was a minifridge in the corner that Ahsoka poked her head in; Plo had already stocked it with unsweetened fizz for her and tartro for the boys. She pulled out two bottles of tartro then took a seat in between Boba and the Wolfpack, tucking her legs underneath her. She handed a bottle to Boba with a wink and popped the seal on hers.

"Oh." Boba went green with curiosity, sat up, then took a swig of the sweet indigo fizz. His eyes went wide. "The fuck is this?"

"You drop another forn-word in front of the General and you're getting smacked," Wolffe drawled from his reclining sprawl on the opposite side of the sofa.

Ahsoka glared at him. "Nobody puts a hand on him," she said sharply. "That's an order."

"You forget, Ahs'ika, you don't outrank me," Wolffe smirked. "I don't have to take your orders like ol' boy back home."

Ahsoka growled in warning at her vod. "Which means that if you go for my ad, I'll flip you on your shebs and bite you akay gar haai'piruni."

Boba's aura flared a little bit with white surprise.

"Oh really," Wolffe grinned, slithering even further down in his seat. His aura went bright orange with excitement-violence. "Bet the nerf jerky I get first pin."

"Oh you're on, Af'ika," she sneered, and they both stood and started dropping plastoid.

"That's quite enough out of you two," Plo sighed, still floating in a lotus position. "No sparring in the salon, and we will respect the vessel which has been so graciously loaned to us. I do not want to see a single dent or popped panel because one of you decided to test the strength of your skulls on it."

"Yes, Master," Ahsoka mumbled at the same time Wolffe grumbled "Sir, yes Sir." They retrieved their shed armor pieces and redressed.

"Anyway, this is tartro," Ahsoka answered Boba.

He took another swig and nodded. "Not bad."

"Our tartro," Sinker mumbled with a red smudge of resentment.

"It's for everyone," Ahsoka said primly, but she floated her bottle over to Sinker with the Force and gently bonked him in the forehead with it, giggling.

Sinker snatched it out of the air and took a big swig.

"So, uh…" Boba started peeling the label off his bottle. "What did you mean before when you asked why the room was red?"

"Oh," Ahsoka said, surprised. She had forgotten completely to explain her Empathy and synesthesia to him, hadn't she? She was just so used to it being common knowledge among the clones that it didn't even occur to her. "Well, that's from my Force talent. I was born a natural Empath."

"What?" Boba's brows furrowed in light green confusion.

"The ability to feel other people's emotions. All Jedi can do it to an extent, but I was born with a strong affinity for it. I could always do it, even without training."

"Oh." Boba scrunched his nose. "But what does that have to do with the room turning red?"

"Well, my Empathy manifests in a sort of…" Ahsoka's hands twirled in the air, searching for the word. "Unique way. I also have synesthesia, do you know what that is?"

Boba shook his head.

"Well, it's when one of your senses is stimulated, another one is at the same time. The most common type is to see numbers and letters as colored, both when you're thinking about them and if you see them written. For example, you'd see an aurek and perceive it as yellow, even if it's printed in black."

Boba raised an eyebrow. "Weird."

Ahsoka laughed. "The kind that I have means that I experience the emotions of other people as a… a sort of colored aura through the Force. It used to be a lot more intense, I would feel everything. I'd block everyone out and not see colors at all when it got too overwhelming. My Master showed me how to rebuild my mental shields in a way that lets me see emotional auras without actually feeling the emotions unless they're incredibly strong. It's a lot easier to manage now."

"Would you still have it if you weren't a Jedi?" Boba asked curiously.

"You mean if I wasn't Force sensitive?" Ahsoka shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure. I know that the auras I see manifest in the Force, not in my actual vision, and I don't really experience synesthesia in any other context. Sometimes I taste bitter or sour if someone is really upset, but that's about it."

"So when the room turned red…" Boba said slowly.

"Rex and Jesse were getting pissy over something," Ahsoka finished. "I see anger as red. Grief is purple, jealousy is green, love is red and pink but also copper if it's platonic, humor is gold but embarrassment is yellow… there's a lot of nuance, actually. And then people have their own natural aura color that stays around them all the time." She pointed at the serenely floating Plo. "His natural aura is copper. Wolffe is a dark orange, Comet is a sort of creamy orange, Boost is red and Sinker is pink–"

"I'm pink?" Sinker squeaked while Comet and Boost cackled at him. "You never told me I was pink!"

"You never asked." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Whatever." Sinker crossed his legs and pouted. "How do I make it more manly?"

"How is pink not manly?" Boost snickered, going rich gold with amusement.

Sinker pouted. "It's pink."

"You can't change your natural aura on your own," Ahsoka said.

"Is he dead?" Ahsoka joked bitterly under her breath, watching the murderous piece of garbage on the bed closely. His aura was an ugly, muted yellow, and he smelled so strongly of cheap alcohol that she could barely breathe.

"He's about to be," Anakin snarled, cracking his knuckles. Ahsoka kept a soothing hold on the edge of his dark, furious aura like a mother holding a child's hand, refusing to allow her own desire to rip the bastard limb from limb for what he did to Obi-Wan bleed through their bond.

"It can change if you go through a lot of emotional trauma," Ahsoka continued, shaking the memory away, "But it's not something that you can pick. Usually. Unless you specifically learn how to do it, and you'd only do that if you were trying to trick me."

Boba snickered. "That happen a lot?"

"Well, if I had a credit for every time it happened, I'd have a credit." Ahsoka retrieved her tartro bottle from Sinker's loose hand and took an aggressive swig. Master Kenobi didn't like it when she drank sugar, either.

"What's mine?" Boba asked hesitantly.

She examined his aura for a moment. It was still very gray, but the green was becoming more and more vibrant. She was getting a good idea of what it had been before the galaxy made him shut down. Being around the other clones was good for him. He wasn't meant to be alone. None of them were. "Green," she said decisively. "Like… like a dark, tropical leaf. Very pretty." She winked at him, took one last sip, then gave the bottle back to Sinker.

Boba eased bronze with flattery and he nodded. "Not bad," he said to himself, then snickered. "Better than pink, at least."

Sinker glared at him.

"So how'd you get that scar?" Boba asked, looking right at Wolffe's bisected eye.

The question hung in the air like a stinky fart and the room went awkwardly silent. Sinker cleared his throat and looked at Boost, who made a face at Comet. Boba noticed, blushed, and went nearly neon yellow with embarrassment.

"None of your business," Wolffe growled, his own aura gone bright yellow.

"Nevermind," Boba said harshly. "Didn't know soldiers were so fucking touchy." He popped off the couch and left the room in a visible huff with Robert under his arm.

"Boba, wait!" Ahsoka protested. She heard their cabin door slide closed.

"Nosy little biter," Wolffe grumbled.

"Can you guys please give him a break?" Ahsoka begged. "He had no way of knowing that's a sensitive subject." She stood, squeezed her lekku stressfully, then released them with a wince. They were still sore from her meltdown at the barracks.

"We're not trying to be hard on him," Sinker protested, his aura going orange in offense.

"I'd say we're being downright nice, all things considered," Wolffe mumbled.

Ahsoka picked up Boba's abandoned tarto bottle, got unsweetened fizz from the minifridge, then plucked the bag of nerf jerky from Wolffe's hand. "I'm going to go check on him. You boys stay here."

"Do not push too hard, Ahsoka," Plo warned her back as she left the room. "I know that you cannot stand witnessing distress, but you cannot use your powers to solve every emotional crisis."

She didn't even know how she'd use her powers to solve this emotional crisis. Her ability to glean strong emotions from others and relieve them of their impact was nothing more than temporary relief from whatever was overwhelming them. For deep trauma, like what the men had gone through after Umbara or what Boba had seemingly been through since Geonosis, gleaning was about as helpful as a single staple over a hemorrhaging wound. What she'd done for Rex in the aftermath of Umbara when he'd had that panic attack was just that, temporary relief. He still needed to process it all and come to grips with it on his own, she had just made the moment easier.

Though in Anakin's case, it'd almost been an emotional tourniquet.

Ahsoka slid the cabin door open with her jerky and their bottles of tartro in hand. "Hey," she said gently.

"Hey." He was in a ball on the corner of his bunk, clinging to Robert and stewing in yellow embarrassment. Despite his rough edges, he was so sensitive and awkward. He might say otherwise, but the opinion of the other clones mattered to him. It made Ahsoka want to snatch him up and glean every bad feeling that surrounded him away and then put Wolffe in a headlock.

"You know, Kix would make me do laps around the ship if he saw me drinking tartro," she said, handing him his bottle with a smile. "He's always on me about how much sugar I eat."

"You can't have sugar?" Boba asked, looking up.

"I can have a little bit, but Togrutas are obligate carnivores. My pancreas can't release enough insulin to handle an omnivorous diet." She took a sip of the sakura fizz and sighed in disappointment. "Processed sugar is the worst."

Boba nodded and started playing with the label again.

"Wolffe is a proud man," she said quietly. She took a seat on the bunk beside him. "He got his scar from a fight that should have killed him. He doesn't like to talk about it because he thinks it makes him look weak. You couldn't have known."

He nodded again. "I didn't mean to make it weird," he mumbled. "Dad always told me not to say more than necessary. I should have just kept my mouth shut."

Ahsoka's heart broke. "It's a big scar right on his face, it's perfectly natural to be curious about it." She sent him a reassuring green tendril of serenity and set her can down on the floor. "So, how about a less serious topic?"

Boba looked at her suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what kind of music do you like?" She leaned back and smiled. "Come on. Let's get to know each other like normal people, or this is going to be a boring fourteen hours."

"Oh." Boba's aura was pale blue with surprise, and Ahsoka inwardly kicked her hands and feet with glee. Blue was good, it meant a pleasant surprise. She was getting through to him. "I don't know."

"Did your dad listen to any music?" She felt safe bringing up Jango since he had first.

"Yeah. Stuff from Concord Dawn, mostly, I think it's called skiffle? It's got quetarras, gutbuckets, onion flutes, that kind of stuff. And singing, obviously."

"Nice. I listen to Pantoran pop, usually," Ahsoka grinned. "Drives my Master nuts, but it's fun."

"Pantoran pop?" Boba's nose scrunched up. "That's so cheesy."

"It's fun to dance to, though," Ahsoka shrugged. "I like dancing. Most Togrutas do."

"I don't know how to dance." Boba's fingers played with Robert's nose ring.

Ahsoka got an idea. "Do you want to learn?" she asked.

Boba rolled his eyes. "Not really," he said, and Ahsoka watched smoky, silvery deceit rotate around the edge of his aura.

"Are you sure? It's pretty easy. Here, watch me and you can decide for yourself." Ahsoka stood and went to her satchel to retrieve her datapad. The audio on it wasn't impressive, but it was loud enough for them both to hear in the tiny cabin.

Ahsoka started up the latest album from Esper then pointed to her feet. "Now," she said loudly over the bright beat and fast-paced Pantoran lyrics, "This is the most important move, the foundation for everything. Basically you're running in place but sliding at the same time, so lift your right knee and step forward with your right foot, then as you slide your right foot back, you do the same thing on the left." She grinned as she demonstrated.

Boba's aura went a mellow gold with humor-fun.

"So that's it, super simple," she giggled, then did a little spin and clapped. The music was so bouncy; even though she didn't speak Pantoran and couldn't understand the lyrics, listening to it always lifted her mood. "Come on. Do it with me."

"I'm good," Boba said flatly, trying to fight a smile and failing.

"Suit yourself." She continued to slide and bounce, singing along with the lyrics softly; well, an approximation of what she heard, anyway. She started doing a tesh-step to the side, twirling every time she returned to her original position for a little flare.

Boba rolled his eyes and snickered. "You gonna dance the whole way to Kamino, Tano?" he drawled.

"Yep." She grinned and stuck her tongue out at him. "All by myself, apparently."

Boba heaved a heavy, theatrical sigh. "Fine, shit, I'm getting up."

Ahsoka didn't bother to hold back her delighted trill. It was working. He was finally flush with warm blue happiness.

She transitioned back into the slide-run, and did it at half speed so he could see. Boba watched her legs carefully, then after a few false starts picked up the move seamlessly.

"See, you're dancing!" Ahsoka laughed, and spun again.

"You looked like an idiot doing it alone," Boba said, grinning so wide that his gums showed. "Now show me how to do the other thing."

Ahsoka's heart swelled inside her chest until she could barely breathe from the space it took up. "Gladly," she said.

Notes:

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS vod/vod'ika/ori'vod: sibling/lil sib/big sib par shab'jorbe: for fuck's sake kaminiise: Kaminoans cyar'solus: beloved one (derogatory) shab/shabla/shabuir: fuck/fucking/motherfucker haran: hell udesii: calm, easy ad: baby/child under 3 Ahs'ika: diminutive for Ahsoka Af'ika: diminutive for Wolffe (Specific to Ahsoka, and because it rhymes with ad'ika [baby] she's rhyme-slanging him into Puppy lol) akay gar haai'piruni: until you cry tiarek: a pale, white-yellow flower native to Mandalore. Slang for a natural blond, akin to ginger for a redhead TOYDARIAN TRANSLATIONS Ayi: No Palibe kuluma: Don't bite OTHER NOTES Togruta babies hypnotizing their caregivers with the power of cute is not a headcanon I will ever give up btw, and reminder that Jango was a fuckin hick ass piece of cornbread from Concord Dawn of course he likes skiffle. Pantoran pop is essentially k-pop. Ahsoka is doing the Melbourne Shuffle to this song lol lol

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

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