Chapter Text
Zeb watched his opponent warily as they circled each other, his hands flexing around the hilt of his weapon. He knew better than to underestimate him— while it had been a long time since they’d first fought, the man hadn’t diminished in skill.
Luckily, neither had Zeb. And he was more than prepared for whatever his opponent could throw at him. He was a trained warrior, seasoned, with years of expertise. Nothing could surprise him.
His opponent moved suddenly. The tip of his weapon flickered past Zeb’s guard and cracked sharply against the bony edge of his wrist.
Letting out a yelp of pain, Zeb jerked backwards, rubbing at his wrist. “Watch it— that hurts.”
Kanan Jarrus raised an eyebrow at him, looking annoyingly unashamed. “Might want to keep your guard up, then.”
Zeb let out an undignified growl as he faced off with the Jedi again. Not for the first time, he wondered why he’d agreed to the idea of sparring with Jarrus.
The crew had been talking a few nights earlier, and Sabine had pointed out that they both used melee weapons— Kanan a lightsaber, and Zeb's bo-rifle, although he rarely used it in staff form these days. And Kanan had, for some stupid reason, suggested they spar together. After all, they were stuck on the Ghost as they traveled through hyperspace over the next few days— it wasn’t as if they had much else to do. So Zeb, for some equally stupid reason, had agreed to do it.
It wasn’t exactly that he disliked the guy— he seemed decent enough. He was a good fighter, which Zeb could say from experience, and incredibly loyal. Particularly to Hera, which was somewhat concerning to Zeb. And also the reason he was here. If this guy had plans to get closer to Hera— and it certainly seemed like he did— Zeb wanted to have a talk with him.
He just had to get around to starting the conversation, first. And that would probably happen after the fight.
Kanan took up the same stance as he had before, holding the metal practice weapon he’d made in front of him. Hera had strictly prohibited them from using their actual weapons in the cargo bay, despite Kanan’s reassurance that the low power mode on his saber would prevent any real harm. So Zeb kept his staff deactivated, and Kanan used a practice weapon.
They started to circle each other again, this time both of them alert, Zeb’s eyes fastened on Kanan and vice versa. Both were waiting for the other’s first move— but they also knew they could only wait so long before they had to strike.
Zeb made the first move, one of his staff slashing down at Kanan. The other man blocked with ease, parried his next stroke, then attacked, driving Zeb backwards. Recovering from his initial surprise quickly, Zeb pushed back. The clang of metal against metal rattled through his bones as they moved, their steps dance-like as they engaged and disengaged in battle.
And then Zeb felt it change as Kanan suddenly gave ground, seeming to stumble backwards. An opening appeared, Zeb took it, and the practice weapon went flying across the room and clattered to the ground.
Kanan held up his hands in surrender, but Zeb narrowed his eyes. He’d been the captain of the Lasat Honor Guard, and had fought with melee weapons for years. So he knew exactly what had just happened. “You let me win,” he accused.
Instead of disagreeing or denying it, Kanan nodded. “I did.”
This caught Zeb off guard, but he persisted nonetheless. “Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you about why you agreed to this in the first place,” Kanan told him, his voice calm. “And I figured we should do that before you try and decapitate me with a metal staff.”
Unfortunately, he had a point there. Huffing out a sigh, Zeb lowered his staff. “Fine. I want to know what your intentions with Hera are.”
“I— what?” Kanan looked completely blindsided as he gaped at Zeb. “That’s what you’re worried about? Hera can take care of herself, you know.”
“I’m well aware,” Zeb growled, wondering if Hera would mind if he punched the Jedi in his idiot face. Deciding she probably would, he continued, “That’s not the point, though.”
Nodding slowly, the confused expression on Kanan’s face transformed to curiosity. “Okay,” he said, moving to a nearby crate and sitting on it. Waving to one of the other nearby crates, he said, “Explain it to me. I’ll listen, I promise.”
Zeb eyed him warily for a moment, then followed suit, dropping onto the crate as he searched for words. “Right. See… Hera’s not just the boss. She’s family to me, and Sabine. She’s the reason we’re in this fight, the reason we’re both still alive— and I’m not exaggerating there.”
“I knew about your… situation,” Kanan said, frowning. “Not Sabine’s, though.”
“It’s quite the story,” Zeb said, feeling himself grin slightly as he thought back to when they’d first met the Mandalorian. “Ask her to tell you about it sometime.” Refocusing, he directed his frown back at Kanan. “But the point is, we’re loyal to her. And we don’t want ANYONE to hurt her, whether they’re Imps—”
“Or members of her crew,” Kanan finished, nodding, his gaze understanding. “Which is why you were initially so worried about us working together.”
Folding his arms, Zeb said, “Right. So I want to know what your intentions with her are. I want us to be straight. Because if anyone hurts her, we hurt them.”
“Point taken,” Kanan acknowledged with a nod. “In that case, I’ll put your mind at ease. I don’t have any intentions with Hera.”
That did not convince Zeb in the slightest. “Right— that explains all of the flirting,” he growled. He’d only seen Kanan interact with Hera twice before their crews had combined, and it had only taken the first time to realize just how interested Kanan exactly was. The flirting had been obvious enough— but the way he looked at her made it really obvious. And it certainly hadn’t gone away.
“No— the flirting was a cover,” Kanan protested.
“We both know you’re lying,” Zeb snapped, his patience waning quickly.
“No, no— listen to me,” Kanan said emphatically, standing up and holding up his hand. “Yes, I flirted with Hera when we first met, but things changed when I started working for the Rebellion. And I did keep flirting, but as a cover, so she wouldn’t know that anything had changed. But I swear to you, I have nothing but respect for Hera. Besides, she— she’s made it clear that our relationship is strictly professional. We’re just friends, nothing else, and I wouldn’t want to mess with that. I care about her too much for that.”
There was something quiet and sad, but resolved in his voice, and Zeb squinted at him. “So you’re just… not gonna do anything about it? About your blindingly obvious feelings for her?”
“They’re not blindingly obvious,” Kanan muttered, which was just dumb. “I— look, I’m trying to respect Hera to the best of my ability. That’s what matters here. So you don’t have to worry about me hurting her, I promise.”
He was telling the truth, Zeb realized. He had something of a knack for figuring out when someone was lying— hence his original distrust for the man. But this wasn’t that. Kanan genuinely cared about how Hera felt in this situation, about his relationship with Hera as a friend. Maybe he did want more with her, but not if Hera didn’t. Which was rare to find in the galaxy.
“Right,” Zeb said, making a decision in the moment. “I trust you. We won’t have any problems.”
“Thank you,” Kanan said, relief flickering across his face. He paused, then asked, “Does this mean we’re gonna be able to work together now?”
“Eh, that depends,” Zeb said.
“On what?”
Picking up his bo-staff, Zeb hefted it as he said, “On who wins this next match.” It would be a while before they reached their destination, and he was ready to see how this guy actually did in a fight. Meeting his gaze, he asked, “You in?”
He saw a spark of challenge in Kanan’s gaze as he grinned. “Oh, I’m in.”