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Pova was finally asleep, curled up under Rex’s protective arm in their bed. Rex was not asleep, Obi-Wan was sure; he was watching Pova, making sure they were okay.
Meeting Cody was not exactly how the twelve-year-old must have thought their day was going to go.
Cody was changed into the Jedi-like tunics that so many of the locals wore on the desert planet. Already it seemed he knew his way around Obi-Wan’s kitchen. He walked with a limp, one Obi-Wan knew he hadn’t had a year and a half ago.
Cody grunted. “Somehow you always manage to keep everything in the same place.” He turned toward Obi-Wan, seated on an ever-dusty sofa, two steaming mugs in his hands.
“Since when do you drink tea?”
“Since you assumed I was never coming back and stopped keeping caf.”
Obi-Wan coughed a little and reached out for the mug Cody proffered. “I stopped keeping caf because Pova doesn’t like the smell.” He knew his voice was too small for Cody to think it was the truth, but it wasn’t really a lie, either. The smell of caf brewing was too strong for Pova; they preferred gentler, less noticeable smells, like what they described as the smell of home.
“That’s the other thing,” Cody said, and sank into the sofa next to Obi-Wan, sending poufs of dust into the air. “How’d you end up with a kid?”
“They survived the assault on the temple.” Obi-Wan took a sip of the still-scalding tea, hoping that by burning himself he could skip through the painful part of the conversation.
Cody knew him too well and simply stood to get an ice cube from the conservator, pressing it into Obi-Wan’s mouth like he had done a dozen times before.
Before.
Obi-Wan grumbled something around the ice cube, a silicone bantha-shaped thing with some sort of alcohol inside that didn’t waste water on a desert planet, choked back a sudden laugh.
Cody’s eyebrow furrowed, some mixture of startled and concerned.
Obi-Wan spit out the ice cube, and his voice cracked as he said, “You’re here.” He set his tea down on the low living room table and it sloshed a little with his momentum, surging forward to hug Cody. “You’re here,” again, murmured, face buried in Cody’s neck.
Half of him wanted to hold back. The Code, it growled at him, this is attachment and breaking the Code. But the other half had decided two things: love was not the same as attachment, and even if it was, Code had been destroyed with the Jedi.
And then he was sobbing, his arms wrapped around Cody’s shoulders, his head stuffed in the crook between shoulder and neck, whispering you’re heres and I’m so sorrys and don’t leave mes.
Cody took a moment to reciprocate, and then he unfolded his arms and embraced his Jedi. He tangled one hand in Obi-Wan’s hair, and the other held tightly around his waist. “I didn’t come here so I could leave again,” he said, his voice quiet, wavering. And then, because he couldn’t help it: “But seriously, Obi-Wan, what’s with the kid?”
Obi-Wan huffed a breathy laugh, hot even through Cody’s tunic. His voice was muffled when he spoke, but Cody had been forced to attempt to understand him with much worse barring their communication. “They survived the assault on the Jedi Temple and managed to hide themself in my quarters, of all places. I didn’t know if it was safe to take them home, so instead I brought them here with me.”
“When you brought Skywalker’s kid.”
Obi-Wan finally pulled away, and his face was so contorted with something Cody had only seen on a few brothers before that he almost regretted asking. It reminded him of Boil after Waxer’s death, or Fives after the Citadel mission.
“His name is Luke,” Obi-Wan said. “He’s just started to speak instead of babble, but I only know that from Senator Organa because the aunt and uncle I left Luke with don’t want much to do with me.”
“You can tell me about ik’aad later. I want to know about adiik.”
Obi-Wan gave a watery smile and launched into a description of the little Mirialan. They preferred signing over speaking, but would speak in the speeder so Obi-Wan could focus on the road. This actually meant that most of their speeder trips involved no conversation, but Pova liked it that way; they said they liked meditating in the speeder. They were more open to touch than they used to be, which Obi-Wan blamed on the fact that despite not liking to be touched, they were in physical contact almost every waking moment during their few months on the run. They asked Obi-Wan constantly about getting a kyber crystal, which Obi-Wan dreaded for a myriad of reasons. Even though Obi-Wan didn’t interact with the Larses, he took Pova to them once every few weeks. Pova consistently failed to update him on Luke’s development, hence only knowing the toddler was starting to talk via Bail’s updates, but would sign nonstop about Beru’s new dinner recipe or the ball she got for Luke to play with. Pova was distrustful of Owen, as he was the reason Obi-Wan was not allowed to interact with the Larses, so their stories largely ignored the Lars patriarch. Pova was in the middle of a homeschool curriculum designed to help them catch up with mainstream Tatooine students, and they were getting through the material so quickly Obi-Wan was worried he might actually have to send his child to school. Pova called Obi-Wan Papa almost as much as they called him Obi or Ben.
By the time Obi-Wan was finished talking about Pova, he and Cody were sitting back down on the sofa, and he was curled up under Cody’s arm. Cody was half asleep, and Obi-Wan had yawned one too many times. He tugged at Cody, pulling them both to standing, and led the way to his bedroom.
What had been his bedroom. He was hoping it would now be their bedroom.
He turned away from Cody, who stood by the bed and changed into the one pair of blacks he had brought. Better than civvie nightclothes, he had said with a shrug when Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. In his turn, Obi-Wan changed into his nightclothes, before facing Cody again and shoving him gently into the bed.
“Oh?” Cody asked with a wink, and Obi-Wan gave him a little, half-hearted glare.
“I needed you out of my way so I could sleep in my spot,” Obi-Wan deadpanned.
“Good,” Cody replied. “I was worried someone had replaced my Obi-Wan with an allosexual lookalike.” He curled up under the blankets and shifted so that Obi-Wan could lie down in his spot, then lifted an arm for Obi to squirm under until they were both comfortable.
By the time Obi-Wan thought to actually say good night, Cody was asleep in their bed, in their bedroom, in their house for the first night of many, and with that thought Obi-Wan drifted off more peacefully than he had in a year and a half.