Work Text:
Ulaz dipped his head to touch Thace’s neck, and words spilled out like silk, mumbled smoothly against his skin, indecipherable, but clear in their meaning by the tone of his voice, which set Thace’s hair to stand on edge. Their arms held fast about each other, clinging to a closeness that could not last. They could not even wish it so, for that which drew them together also drew them apart; it is a necessity of function that blades be drawn, for how else might their purposes be fulfilled? It was the way things were, the way they had to be. They both knew and accepted that.
And yet, just for this moment, they let responsibilities be rested, let edges be softened. Too brittle, and a blade will break, after all. They did not betray by this behavior. Such soft acts were neither stolen nor shameful; they had sworn to secrecy, but never to solitude. On the next cycle, they would be parted, perhaps permanently. No one would begrudge them this.
They spent the sleeping shift together, paired upon a narrow bed. Ulaz was silent now, his face buried in Thace’s hair, as if the scent of it was to him like the last breaths of air available to one adrift in space. Thace lay beside him, held and holding, feeling the firmness of Ulaz’s body. Strength stability, solidity – simple as it was, this action brought comfort like nothing else could. It was a reassurance of reality, an unshakeable anchoring point amidst of a life filled with deception and double lives. When all the layers of deep cover were stripped away, this remained. This was home. Not the base. Not even the Blades. But Ulaz himself.
This was what Thace clung to: these moments which became an almost tangible memory. When missions meant spending his life around enemies, even acting as one himself, this was what grounded him, what helped keep him sane – the knowledge that whatever he did, wherever he went in pursuit of their organization’s goals, this is what he had to return to. Duty and dedication to their cause could only push one so far; sometimes they did not seem enough. But this… This was always enough.
Nestled against Ulaz, Thace pushed away thoughts of how temporary this visit was, how it, like all others before it, could be their last. Instead of dreading possible futures, he focused on the present: the even rise and fall of Ulaz’s chest as he breathed, the warmth and smoothness of his skin against Thace’s own, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He memorized each sensation, tucked them away into his mind to be called upon when he needed them, and he knew that Ulaz was likely doing the same.
Thace did not know at what point he had finally drifted into sleep, only that when the tones sounded signaling the time to rise, he felt Ulaz’s arms tighten around him. Reluctance. But it lasted only for a space of three ticks – a moment’s weakness. They were resigned to this. Ulaz’s grasp loosened, and they turned away from one another.
Thace left the bed. He picked up his clothes – a uniform marking him as a high-ranking officer of the Galra Empire’s military. Piece by piece, he put them on; the garments felt cold against his skin. Ulaz still sat upon the edge of the bed, his eyes trained at the floor in front of him. Only as Thace adjusted the last article of clothing did Ulaz stand and approach.
He spoke only two words – “Be safe.” – and before Thace could answer, he had pressed his lips to Thace’s in a final kiss. It was not meant as a goodbye. They knew better than to part like that. This kiss meant come back to me, as it always did. Come back to me. Do what must be done, but when it is finished, when your task is complete, come back to me. And I shall do the same.
It was the rhythm of their lives, their relationship – that constant ebb and flow. It was a promise both knew may one day not be kept. But they continued to promise it nonetheless.
Their time ran out; a voice spoke through the communications speaker, summoning Thace to leave. They parted without another word. Nothing more needed to be said. Thace felt Ulaz’s eyes follow him as he left the room. He did not look back.