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“You really did turn up at the perfect time, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan tells him at the end of their debrief after a grueling two-and-a-half weeks spent trudging through mud and interminable rain. “Luck must have been on our side, for once.”
“There’s no such thing as luck, Obi-Wan; just the Force,” Quinlan replies serenely. The effect is rather ruined by the enormous yawn he lets out immediately after, and Obi-Wan can’t help but snort inelegantly.
“Well,” he says, shutting off the holoterminal, “regardless, I’d say we’ve more than earned a night’s rest.”
“More than a night,” Quinlan agrees, reaching up to crack his neck, one way and then the other. The sound draws the attention of the troopers still in the briefing room, and it’s a testament to their exhaustion that the most they can manage is vague alarm. Quinlan waves them off, raising his other hand to cover another jaw-cracking yawn.
Across from them, Cody straightens, the corner of his mouth quirked, amused. “All right,” he calls, shutting off his datapad, “we’re done here. Get some rest. That includes you, Generals,” he adds, fixing Obi-Wan with a look that might be stern if not for the way he’s clearly about to fall asleep on his feet.
“No arguments here,” Obi-Wan tells him, and he graciously ignores Quinlan’s muttered “for once.” His men, on the other hand, do not, but Obi-Wan can’t find it in himself to mind, not when they’re all here, exhausted and laughing and alive to poke fun at his expense as they shuffle out of the briefing room and towards the barracks.
“Thank the Force that’s done,” Quinlan says, rolling his shoulders with a groan. Across the room, Cody heaves a world-weary sigh in agreement.
“If I never have to clean mud out of my chest plates ever again it’ll still be too soon,” he agrees, scrubbing a hand over his face. He taps his datapad against the table absently, once, twice, before he visibly stops himself. “I trust you can figure out your own sleeping arrangements, General Vos?” he asks, and the lazy smirk dancing around the corners of his mouth is completely uncalled for.
Quinlan grins, dropping an arm across Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “I survived bunking with this idiot when we were padawans,” he says, and it takes most of Obi-Wan’s self control not to slump too far into his welcoming warmth. “I think I’ll survive one more night.”
Cody’s smirk grows into an outright grin. “I’m sure you will, sir.”
Obi-Wan’s sure his scowl would be much more effective if he wasn’t so sleep-deprived. “Get some rest, Commander,” he tells Cody, and the bastard has the audacity to throw him a half-assed salute before he nods goodbye to Quinlan and leaves.
“I like your Commander, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan tells him, and Obi-Wan’s half-tempted to call Cody back just so he doesn’t have to bear the full force of Quinlan’s sleepy smile on his own.
“If you leave now you can tell him yourself,” Obi-Wan says dryly, slipping out from under Quinlan’s arm.
Quinlan groans theatrically. “The only place I’m going right now is straight to bed.”
Obi-Wan has to hide a smile at that, remembering countless late-night study sessions as padawans where Quinlan, out of all of their friends, always inevitably succumbed to sleep first. “To bed, then,” he says, already moving out of the room, and if it comes out quiet and fond he can always blame it on the long campaign, the months that have passed since he saw Quinlan last.
The walk to the officers’ quarters is quiet, comfortable, Obi-Wan more than happy to let Quinlan bask in the presence of the troopers aboard the flagship. It’s not the same as being in the Temple, surrounded by other Jedi, but the subdued hustle and bustle of Light, bright life feels like home nonetheless. Especially for Quinlan, Obi-Wan thinks, who has spent so much of this war alone, undercover, and surrounded by Darkness. He reaches out, brushing against Quinlan’s mind in a friendly hey, and Quinlan’s answering brush is easy, fond.
All is as the Force wills it, and Obi-Wan knows they're doing the right thing, fighting this war, stopping the Separatists and the Sith, but—it's reassuring, seeing Quinlan and feeling his presence, knowing that despite everything he's still familiar.
"Deep thoughts," Quinlan comments as Obi-Wan distractedly palms open the door to his room, and it's casual, light, an invitation to talk.
Obi-Wan hums thoughtfully. "Haven't seen you in a while," he says, letting the door slide shut before leaning back against it.
"I knew you missed me," Quinlan teases, looking around the room without shame. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes at Quinlan's back, mostly out of habit. His quarters on the Negotiator aren't much different from the ones in the Temple; in fact, his room in the Temple is probably emptier. There's nothing here that Quinlan hasn't seen before.
Obi-Wan lets him snoop, removing his robe and stacking the armor Cody and his men insist he wear at all times, yes, even when you're just going to the mess, General, on his desk. He looks up to see that Quinlan's removed his borrowed robe and draped it on the back of the chair, leaving him in just the undersuit he's also borrowed from the ship's stores.
The fabric stretches, but it's also one-size-fits-all—so long as that size is the same as one of the clones. On Quinlan the garment is stretched tight, the stitches not quite ready to pop but every centimeter of his broad shoulders, the definition of his arms and chest, on display. Obi-Wan prays to the Force for strength: the same prayer he's been perfecting since he was a padawan.
"So," Quinlan says, splaying himself out on the narrow bunk. Obi-Wan blinks. "You planning on sleeping, or have you started doing that standing up at your desk?"
Right. Obi-Wan shakes his head at himself, resettling the armor to make sure it won't fall over halfway through the night cycle before turning the lights out.
He pauses a couple steps in front of the bunk, where Quinlan's arranged himself on the far side with his back to the wall. "You don't need the fresher, do you?"
Quinlan groans. "What I need is sleep. Get in the bed, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan laughs softly, climbing into the bunk. He settles on his side, letting Quinlan arrange them until they fit as comfortably as they can.
Obi-Wan drowses, unable to sleep between the gentle glow of the emergency lights and Quinlan's warmth and steady breathing behind him. He tries closing his eyes and willing back the bone-deep exhaustion that had almost wiped him off his feet in the fresher immediately post-mission, but sleep remains elusive. Eventually, he sighs, shifting to lay flat on his back and stare up at the ceiling. Next to him, Quinlan grumbles at the change.
"I did miss you," Obi-Wan murmurs without thinking, and then he startles because Quinlan’s lightly smacked him across the face.
“You have the worst timing,” he mumbles without opening his eyes. “Was almost asleep.”
Obi-Wan can’t help the smile that works its way onto his face. “Well it’s true,” he says, quiet. “I always miss you when you’re gone, Quinlan.”
“Worst,” Quinlan repeats, shoving Obi-Wan’s face away. “Why do I like you?”
Obi-Wan hums, catching Quinlan’s hand in his own and moving it from his face to rest on his chest. Quinlan tangles their fingers together, and Obi-Wan’s glad for the darkness of the room and the warmth of their bodies under the sheets, both working to hide the way his face heats. “I’m letting you share my bed, aren’t I?”
“Ugh,” Quinlan says, shifting closer. He moves their hands until his palm rests flat against Obi-Wan’s chest. “Your heart’s racing.”
“Is it?” Obi-Wan asks lightly, but Quinlan’s already moving again, pushing himself up so he can hover over Obi-Wan, close enough that he can feel Quinlan’s breath against his face. “Hello,” he says, and Quinlan smirks, just a tiny little thing at the corner of his mouth.
“Hi,” he says, and then he’s leaning down to press a lingering kiss to Obi-Wan’s mouth.
Obi-Wan makes a startled sound, eyes sliding shut, and he brings his hand up to the nape of Quinlan’s neck, chasing after him when he pulls back, laughing. The kisses turn clumsy where they can’t stop smiling like idiots, but he doesn’t let Quinlan go until he breaks away with a yawn.
Obi-Wan snickers up at him. “Tired of me already, Quinlan?”
Quinlan rolls his eyes, pulling back. “Sleep, dammit,” he says, but he’s laughing as he settles back down next to him on the bunk.
“If you insist,” Obi-Wan agrees, turning over onto his side to face him.
“I do,” Quinlan grumbles, shutting his eyes pointedly. Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to just look at him, the lines of his handsome face relaxed and peaceful in his bed, and by the time he realizes he’s been matching his breaths to Quinlan’s, deep and steady, he’s calmer than he’s been since the beginning of the war.