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Leenik sat on his bunk, Dusk on an Alien World open and ignored next to him, turning the unlit lightsaber over and over in his hands. He’d been trying to read, hoping it would distract him from, well, just about everything, really. But the familiar words felt—not that he would ever in a thousand years tell Neemo this, toiling away as he was on his new novel in the next bunk over —rote and insufficient. What were Captain Therkael Currsand’s problems compared to his own? All that guy had to figure out was how to get off his stupid planet and back to his true love before they married the princess-slash-senator of Uclite III, whereas Leenik…
Every time he closed his eyes he saw the yellowing slits in Sadett’s face, felt the impossible sharp heat of their lightsaber through his shoulder. He could have died. He should have died, except.
“Leenik,” said Tryst, swinging his way through the curtain around Leenik’s bunk. “Hey.”
“Hey,” said Leenik.
Tryst’s quick gaze took in the lightsaber between his hands, the open book at his side, and he continued his pendulum-swing into Leenik’s personal space, curling up on the bed at his side where there was definitely not enough room for him. He was in a kimono and no shoes, at least; he knew better than to stick his boots on Leenik’s bed, not that it necessarily always stopped him.
Leenik scooched over automatically, hooking a finger under the book to prevent it from being squished under Tryst’s long legs as he stretched them out behind him, effectively taking up Leenik’s entire bed and leaving him perched at its edge. There wasn’t really much choice; if Tryst wanted to be in his space, he was in Leenik’s space. Not that he minded, exactly. It was complicated, and also the simplest, most second-nature thing in the world, and thinking about it tangled Leenik’s brain in knots.
Tryst’s kimono was open to his naval, and Leenik could see the dermaseal on his side, his gut-wound still not quite healed even after their bout in the verpine goo.
“You gonna tell me what you’re thinking about that so distracted you from Captain Currsand’s thrilling adventures, or am I gonna have to guess?” Tryst asked, pulling Leenik’s eyes back to his face.
“Oh,” said Leenik, and then: “wait, you’ve read Dusk on an Alien World ?” He frowned. “How?”
Tryst waved a hand. “Don’t be stupid,” he said dismissively. “Tamlin described the plot to me when I was babysitting him one time. Of course, I had to guess where all the sex scenes went, since you redacted them when you read it to him, but I think I probably got it.” He squinted at the ceiling. “I assume he gets tied up and fucked by some kind of giant plant monster when he’s in the jungle, right?”
“No!” Leenik said, horrified. “ Gross. ”
“Oh c’mon,” said Tryst, “don’t be such a prude. Some of us are into that.” He grinned, relenting. “Anyway, I know, Neemo wrote it, so it’s probably pretty vanilla and romantic or whatever. Please tell me there’s at least a threesome, though.”
“There is,” Leenik admitted. “When Therkael meets back up with Ryljess, both of them sleep with the princess-senator Ryljess is engaged to.”
Tryst nodded approving. “Princesses are more Lyn’s speed, but you know I’m into a good sexy Senator.” With zero transition, he nodded at the lightsaber, still held loosely between Leenik’s knees. “So, you gonna go through with it?”
“Go through with what?” Leenik asked, setting the lightsaber to his side, away from Tryst, pretending he hadn't realized he was still holding it.
“You know what I mean,” Tryst said, undeterred. “Purifying it, or whatever. Purging it of your," he wiggled his fingers, "soul’s evil.”
Leenik sighed and leaned back against his legs, his elbows on Tryst’s knees. “What’s the point of making you guess if you’re just gonna be right on the first try?”
Tryst just watched him, waiting.
“Of course I am,” Leenik said quickly, peevishly. “Lyn set me the task in Major Promises, didn’t she?”
“We should never have taught her the rules,” Tryst said. “Now she uses them against us.”
“To be fair,” said Leenik, “we also use them against her.” He turned a little to face Tryst, propping his head on one hand. “What about you, are you gonna honor your promise not to sleep with clones?”
Tryst blinked slow at him. “Unless I’m deeply in love,” he reminded him.
Leenik searched his face for any sign of—irony? confession?—and found neither. “Yeah,” he said, “unless.”
Tryst shrugged. “Might be good for me,” he said with a theatrical sigh. “Maybe I should impose that limit on myself in general. Slow my roll, take a break from the sex criminal life.”
“You mean like the break you took for the last five years?” Leenik asked, maybe a little meanly.
Tryst laid a hand on his heart. “Leenik, you wound me,” he said. “Lies and slander. Aava and I—”
Leenik shook his head. “Aava doesn’t count and you know it.”
Tryst made a face at him but didn’t object. “Voth, then. And Shinro—”
“You didn’t actually sleep with Shinro, though,” said Leenik.
“Mm,” said Tryst, “but I could have, and sometimes it’s the vapes-in-potentia that really take it out of you, you know?”
“I really don’t,” said Leenik.
Tryst rearranged his legs, pulling his knees up, which left Leenik the option to move with him or sit up, and he chose the former, more out of inertia than anything, letting his hand fall from his face and his head slump down onto Tryst’s thigh. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable or really sustainable position, with only his back from his shoulder-blades up supported on anything, his knees at a 90-degree angle. But that felt appropriate somehow. Awkward, suspended. Ready to fall.
“They asked me why I’m on the side I’m on,” Leenik said quietly. “Sadett. And I didn’t really know.”
“They were trying to get into your head, mess with you,” Tryst said immediately. “Same reason they kissed you.”
Leenik tried to laugh, but it came out more of a sigh. “I think it was an accident,” he said. “When Lyn shot off their antennae, they just sort of. Fell. And there was my mouth.”
Tryst snorted. “Classic excuse,” he said. “Use it myself all the time.”
“You don’t,” Leenik said, looking at him sideways. “You usually use ‘help me hide from the Imperials by making out,’ or sometimes ‘oh, you’re hypnotizing me with your big ol’ eyes.’”
“Hey,” Tryst protested, “you saying that hypnosis wasn’t real? Because that hypnosis was totally real, I got unbelievably lost in those big ol’ eyes.”
Leenik hunched his shoulders, embarrassed. “It’s not that I don’t know why I’m on your guys’ side,” he explained, because maybe if he kept switching between topics he didn’t want to talk about, a little at a time, Tryst would get confused and start talking about something that didn’t make Leenik’s entire chest hurt, “and you’re rebels, so like, I am by default, but. I don’t really get why you’re—you’re on my side.”
Tryst frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
Leenik ran the back of his hand beneath his eyes, feeling suddenly like he might cry. “It’s obvious, right?” he said. “I’m like. I’m not a good person, Tryst. I’ve always known it and then I picked up Sian’s lightsaber and it knew it, Sadett saw it know, you saw it know, it basically blazed it out in big kriffing red letters, and you said it yourself, my soul’s evil—”
“Leenik—”
“—and I’m going to take that thing it and try to purify it, I am, because I promised Lyn and I want Tamlin to have his pretty pink lightsaber back but it’s not going to work, because I’m pretty sure for me to make it good I have to be good, and I’m not.” He blew out a breath. “Not without you guys, not once I’m out there on my own.”
“Leenik,” said Tryst again, “what are you talking about?”
Leenik lifted his head so he could look at him properly, trying to tell if he’d just stopped listening or what. There was genuine confusion in his face. “I’m leaving,” Leenik said, surprised he had to spell it out. “Obviously. To do the lightsaber thing.”
“No,” said Tryst, “you’re not.”
Leenik stared at him. Tryst made an impatient gesture. “Get up here, it hurts my neck looking at you,” he said, then just grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up so Leenik was properly sprawled across his lap. “Why the kriff would you leave? ”
“The—the quest,” said Leenik weakly. “I thought that was part of the deal, I thought—”
“Did Lyn specify that as part of the deal?” Tryst demanded. “Do we need to check the minutes? Because I’m pretty kriffing sure she said nothing of the sort.”
“She didn’t,” Leenik admitted, “but I thought—it was implied—”
“It was not,” Tryst said firmly, “and the only reason you think it was is because you read too many stupid books. You—you still have this picture of yourself as, like, this lone actor, this troubled protagonist set against a world that doesn’t understand you, and that’s not who you are anymore.” His hands were still at Leenik’s shoulders, not quite settling, not quite touching, not quite pulling back. “You’ve got people, Leenik. You’ve got us. Good and bad, whatever’s in our souls, none of that matters. We’re on your side because we’re yours, like you’re ours. We’ve been in this five years with you and we’re not gonna stop now.”
“But,” said Leenik. The tears were in his throat, now, drowning a thousand objections.
“I feel confident in speaking for Bacta at least on this,” said Tryst, taking advantage of his overwhelmed silence, “but even if I weren’t, it wouldn’t matter.” His hands finally figured out where to settle, coming up to cup Leenik’s jaw just in time to catch the tears slipping embarrassingly down his cheeks. “Even if it were just me, Leenik. Are you listening? You’ve got me.”
“You saved my life,” Leenik managed, raising his eyes to Tryst’s face. “You—you almost died. Saving my life.”
“Yeah,” said Tryst, “and apparently you still couldn’t hear what I was telling you.” He curled forward, his fingers soft at the corners of Leenik’s jaw, and kissed him.
Leenik had never been kissed while crying before, and he found it was actually quite hard to breathe, or maybe it was hard to breathe because of how different this kiss felt from all the times Tryst had kissed him before. Maybe it was the distinctly mandible-y kiss between kisses from a human mouth, or maybe it was because it was so slow, with none of the quick, teasing, searing quality of the kisses they’d shared before.
It hit Leenik that they’d never kissed when they were alone before, either, and as Tryst kept kissing him, Leenik’s overwhelming, confused sadness gave way to a kind of delicate nervousness, a tentative, disbelieving joy. This was—he was wanted. Tryst wanted this, wanted to be kissing him, for him, not under pretense or to be on display. Wanted to be conveying the things he was conveying, with the clever, unhurried movements of his lips. Pressing close, steady, his. Leenik raised his hands from where they’d been knotted miserably in his lap and brushed the ends of his fingers up Tryst’s jaw to curl at the back of his head.
Tryst pulled back, just the tiniest bit, so their foreheads were still touching. “Okay?” he asked.
Leenik traced the shell of his ear with a suction-cup. “Okay,” he said. “Um. Can you keep kissing me like that?”
“Depends,” said Tryst. “Are you going to stop talking nonsense about leaving?”
Leenik, swallowed, swiping at his cheeks to rid himself of drying tears. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“That’s not the only thing I drive that’s hard,” said Tryst, the ‘joke’ ruined by the way his whole face was still soft, his eyes drifting over Leenik’s face.
“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Leenik muttered, but leaned back in anyway, and Tryst met him halfway, mouth open and smiling.