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That was it. The war was over.
Chancellor Palpatine had been killed on the Separatist warship, along with Count Dooku. It took some negotiations between the Republic and the Separatists, but with both groups’ leaders killed in the explosion, the fighting seemed to peeter out on its own. It also helped that the overwhelming Dark presence the Jedi had been sensing for so long had also gone and vanished around the same time.
No one could make heads or tails out of it.
But the day the treaty was signed, Obi-Wan quite legitimately cried in relief.
Sure, there were still relief efforts to attend to. There were planets to sort out and losses to mourn. People to help. But the thing was…
The Jedi were made for that. They weren’t made for war. They were made for peace. Negotiations. To be a help for the hopeless and those who could not help themselves.
And Obi-Wan was so ready to get back to what he’d been trained for.
The problem then came was the army the Republic still found itself in possession of. And somehow, it had taken even longer to figure out what to do with the clones.
Some had said to send them back to Kamino. Others wanted to set them up on a planet, just the 3.2 million of them. One dumbass suggested having them “put down” as if they were rabid animals that would kill without hesitation. That had been tamped down quickly and the senator dealt with.
It was Senator Amidala, bless her soul, who took charge of the whole situation and led the way to granting the clones citizenship and giving them the option to live where and how they wanted. The GAR would not be abolished, though its size would be significantly scaled back (as per the treaty that had been signed). Now anyone could join, civilian or otherwise, and the clones were free to stay or leave.
The day it was all signed into law by the new Supreme Chancellor, Bail Organa, a cheer went up from the whole army. Troopers and their commanding officers, generals and admirals alike were shouting in pure, unadulterated joy.
Obi-Wan was too.
There was excitement in his limbs and in his chest - bubbling through his lungs and his muscles and his stomach. He was being jostled in a sea of white and 212th Gold. Men around him cheered and screamed and jumped around, pumping their fists into the air and hugging one another.
And, hey! Obi-Wan wanted to hug someone too!
“General!” a shout came.
And it didn’t matter that they all supposedly had the same voice. (If you asked Obi-Wan, they didn’t.) He knew exactly who’d called for him.
He turned, searching the sea of familiar and near identical faces until he found the one he wanted. The one with the hooked, curving scar down his left temple and around his eye. The one with golden, amber brown eyes that Obi-Wan sometimes wished he could look into forever. The one with the lopsided, child-like smile that was honestly the single most gorgeous thing he thought he’d ever seen.
Obi-Wan rushed the man, finding a mostly clear path between him and his destination.
“Cody!”
He found himself wrapping his arms around Cody’s middle and lifting him, plastoid-alloy armor and all, into the air. They spun with the momentum a couple of times. Cody’s hands clenched easily into the shoulders of his tunics and tabards, keeping himself steady. There was overjoyed laughter all around them and bubbling up from both their lungs.
When Obi-Wan finally slowed (after no more than four spins), he set Cody down and looked him squarely in the face.
Cody was still smiling, but he’d gone absolutely, completely red. He was very nearly so red he was glowing.
“Cody?” Obi-Wan asked, breathless. “Are you alright?”
Several wolf whistles cut through the crowd, inviting new rounds of laughter and directing attention on the two of them.
“Cody’s got the hots for the general!” an unrecognizable voice called out. It was met with a huge response of “ohh”s and more whistling.
It was probably Boil, if Obi-Wan had to guess.
But he didn’t care.
Because Cody had just gone even redder, if that was possible. And now he was starting to duck his head and tame his smile, moving like he might step out of Obi-Wan’s arms.
Now, Obi-Wan never had been a very forward man when it came to real attraction. (His flirting he as a part of negotiations did not count, Anakin.) But Cody was, quite by accident, projecting loudly into the Force. And Boil wasn’t wrong.
Throwing all caution to the wind, Obi-Wan tightened his arms around Cody’s waist. He leaned in and in one smooth motion, pressed his lips to Cody’s. He was shocked for no more than a second, then he was relaxing into Obi-Wan’s arms and pressing back, tilting his head and changing the angle to something more comfortable.
It would sound so weird, and honestly it probably was, but everything felt right. The Force slotted neatly into place and sung with happiness and joy. It felt whole.
It had taken them three years. Three, long, grueling years. But the war was over, the clones were to be made citizens (upon being presented with birth certificates and everything else) and the galaxy was finally ready to start cleaning itself up. The Jedi would be right there to help, just as they should be.
And Obi-Wan would be right there too, ready with his partner and their found family by his side.