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Every trooper has a favorite fighting style. Ponds’ is made up entirely of holds. Cody would joke that it’s just because Ponds gets to cuddle more that way except it wouldn’t be a very good joke because he’s 99% sure that’s the actual reason.
Cody does not understand it. He knows plenty of physically affectionate vode . Sith hells, he grew up with Ponds. He still does not understand Ponds.
All Cody knows is that Ponds has single-handedly given all of the Shebse a “sheer unnatural ability to escape any hold in two seconds flat.” Waxer’s words, not his. (Waxer’s words while lying dazed on the training room floor being checked for a concussion by Helix.)
Waxer is wrong, by the way. Cody can not escape any hold. Cody can not, for the life of him, escape Ponds’ holds. Because Ponds spent years splitting up his practice between four different people, which always meant that his holds were that tiny bit better than their ability to escape them.
Cody knows it’s going to happen when the 212th and 91st are on a campaign together. He even plans for it, positioning himself with his back to the door which nets him a raised eyebrow from Obi-Wan because it’s the one position he usually avoids. (Cody likes being in control, knowing what’s happening and that means seeing someone enter a room and being able to gauge their expressions.)
He ignores the eyebrow and instead stares at the Holomap of the surrounding area: “There have been no signs of trouble so far, no suspicious sightings of locals reported, no movement just outside of view.”
There’s steps at the tent’s entrance. Cody fixes his footing, steels himself for the coming attack. There’s another raised eyebrow.
“General Kenobi”, Ponds’ voice says from the entrance in greeting.
Obi-Wan smiles at him: “Hello, Commander Ponds. Will Mace be joining us?”
A force collides with Cody’s back. He was prepared for it but it still almost knocks him off his feet. Arms snake around him and pin his upper arms in place.
“Yes, he had something to discuss with Lieutenant Stak”, Ponds answers, his voice sounding almost professional. “Hey, Cody”, he adds, his voice now much softer and his head pressed against Cody’s.
“Hello, Ponds”, Cody says, gently tapping one of the hands resting on his sternum. “How I rue the times when Rex was there to take the brunt of your attacks.”
That earns him a poke in the crook of his arm. It also earns him an amused smile from Obi-Wan. Damn Jedi with their damn Force-fuelled ability to know how you actually feel. Neither of them say anything, though, and so they wait in silence for General Windu’s arrival.
Steps become audible once more, the steps of a Jedi, quiet, not weighed down by the weight of armor. Cody taps Ponds’ hand once. The grip around him loosens and then vanishes entirely, Ponds settling into parade rest at his side.
The movement is a bit too fast and Cody feels a bit of guilt well up at having cut the hug short. Physical contact is a rarity when all of the vode around you are your subordinates. There’s a respectful distance that’s often held even in downtime and it takes a long time for it to decrease even a little. Cody shifts a bit, lets their bracers touch in a silent apology.
All good , Ponds signs in reply, then grins. Expect attack later.
Cody rolls his eyes at him: “You’ll get a spar”, he says because that’ll end in cuddling anyway.
It takes five days and they’re back on the Negotiator, Ponds and Windu having come along for the debriefing, before there’s even a moment that is not filled with the anticipation of an imminent attack. Granted, the last few hours those attacks were from people wielding datapads but those are dangerous in their own way, killing any hope of having free time between assignments.
It’s late when they leave Cody’s small office but the ship is still practically buzzing with energy. It’s not adrenalin, not really, but rather the joy and excitement or having survived and your vode having survived as well. The campaign went well.
The training room is busy but space is immediately cleared on one of the mats for them.
“You’re done?”, Cody asks one of the troopers who had left their - very obviously not done - spar.
The trooper turns around. It’s Peel, one of Boil’s men: “Yes, sir.” He looks like he’s trying to figure out what he’s done wrong.
“None of us are on duty, Peel”, Cody says, trying not to let his frustration seep into his voice.
“We were done, anyway”, Peel’s sparring partner says. Cody can almost see him swallow the ‘sir’.
He sighs: “Alright. If that’s the case”, he doesn’t even try to keep the doubt out of his voice.
Cody steps onto the mat, walks a couple of meters, turns around and drops into a ready position. Ponds is mirroring him, closer to the edge, with a grin that splits his face in two. Activity dies down around them as it often does when Cody spars with an audience.
They start slow in that first round, make it a warm-up, just like they used to in training. They meet in the middle, trade light punches and kicks, testing each other’s cover, fixing their own with each punch they block. They get faster over time, throw in some more extravagant moves, try to get in closer, to feint, to really test.
Ponds makes the first mistake, a hit that’s just a bit too slow and just a bit too familiar and that Cody can easily sidestep. He mimes a punch to Ponds’ head that Ponds has no chance of blocking, then drops out of his fighting stance to move back a bit and get ready for the next round.
The second round is different. They circle each other for a while, moving in sometimes but retreating again and again to the safe distance. Cody sees Ponds make the decision and takes a small step forward to force his timing. It works but even expecting the attack, it’s difficult not to get caught in Ponds’ pounce.
He drops out of the way just fast enough and rolls back up to a standing position. He attacks right away. There was a lot of speed in that attack that will make Ponds take longer to get up. Cody doesn’t get him, though. Ponds blocks both the punch and the kick that follows it and launches into his own flurry of attack.
Cody blocks the first few, then dodges the last, swiping at Ponds’ legs in the process. But Ponds’ footwork has always been good and it’s a futile effort. They trade attacks for a while longer, making small mistakes once in a while but nothing big enough to give the other the upper hand.
Until Cody missteps that is. And Ponds was never one to pass up a perfectly good opportunity to swipe someone’s legs out from under them. So Cody finds himself on the floor, the weight of one Ponds dropping down on top of him pressing all of the air out of his lungs.
“Your footwork’s getting sloppy, vod ”, Ponds says.
Cody sees the cocky grin in his mind’s eye. He makes a spontaneous attempt at escaping from the hold. Ponds changes his position lightning fast.
He tests the hold, attempts to push against it, slide out from under Ponds but there’s no openings - Ponds’ technique is flawless - and Cody isn’t strong enough to brute force his way out.
“Thirty”, someone shouts at some point.
The room fills with chatter and then quiets down again as neither of them move. Someone approaches their position.
“Commanders?”, Helix asks as he leans over them so he can at least meet Cody’s eyes.
“CC rules”, Cody immediately bullshits.
Ponds’ head drops down to rest on his shoulder and Cody can feel him laugh.
Helix raises an eyebrow, looks pointedly at Ponds, whose shoulders are shaking so violently that he really didn’t need to make the effort in stifling the noise, and back at Cody.
“Squad rules”, Cody corrects and that’s almost true. “Spar ends when I get out of this.”
Helix studies Ponds with renewed vigour, cocks his head: “I didn’t know you were squadmates.”
“We are”, Cody pauses. “Unfortunately, there’s four of them.”
Ponds pinches his neck: “You’re the one who got us an extra one.”
“I was hoping we could exchange him for Wolffe but Alpha refused.”