Chapter Text
Thrawn has always been glad — truly glad, in a warm and contented way — that his husband and brother get along so well. He’d thought they would, all those years ago.
He’d hoped they would.
Of course, in retrospect, he may have unleashed a menace upon the Ascendancy.
Eli’s glass thunks down on the table of the small diner, a look of concentration on his face as his throat bobs. When Thrawn kisses him later tonight, he will be able to taste the lingering traces of the alcohol on Eli’s tongue.
“My turn,” Eli says, eyes narrowing at Thrass across the table in a way that is very, very focused. Thrawn knows he’s weighing every possibility, looking to take the advantage back from Thrass in some unexpected way. Finally, after a moment of thought, he sits back with a glint of triumph in those eyes, shoulder bumping against Thrawn’s beside him. “Never have I ever become Patriarch of the Mitth family!”
Thrass looks at him in confusion. “Neither have I, little brother,” he says slowly. “Have I misunderstood the rules of the game?”
Eli shrugs, the faint lines by his eyes creasing with mischief. “That’s okay. I’ll collect when you do.”