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It all started that morning.
The usual early-rising routine consisted of the crew fighting for the ‘fresher and burning the last supply of space waffles (if Ezra was left alone in the kitchen). Naturally, Hera would rise slightly earlier and grant herself the luxury of a longer routine in the shower if they were dirtside with an appropriate tanker.
Sometimes long was just too long, especially for someone like Kanan who also chose to rise early to take advantage of the empty ‘fresher. Hera would probably get to the moisturising stage of her routine before Kanan would appear. She’d dab at her head tails with a specific type of moisturiser, especially at the base where they could chafe against her cap.
They’d been roommates long enough to cope with sharing the ‘fresher. It’s not like they hopped in the shower together, or that Kanan ever saw her without her cap. Hera always had a scarf or cap in place before Kanan would fully open his eyes that were still stuck together from sleep.
They’d elbow each other as they brushed their teeth and Hera, occasionally offered to brush the knots of his hair, only when it was tangled enough to make Kanan wince as he brushed. They’d chat normally about pending missions and what needed to be bought for the ship and its kitchen. Jedi training would come up frequently, especially if Kanan was frustrated about it. Or they would stick to a sleepy silence if both of them were truly exhausted, sharing looks and smiles which, in their long friendship, was an understandable translation.
Although, the difference with Kanan’s prompt appearance at the ‘fresher door was that instead of his usual sleeping pants or a towel wrapped around him, he crept in wearing just a pair of black basics. Still peering from the stark lighting of the morning cycle, Kanan covered his eyes as he squeezed in beside Hera to stand in front of the mirror.
Hera paused as she turned to greet him, her brows jumped up. First, her gaze was drawn down, and then up, and then back down again. Eventually, she peeled her eyes away and concentrated ahead, staring at herself in the mirror instead. Yet, Kanan was beside her, also facing the mirror. Her eyes drifted again…
“My shoulder,” Kanan started, his voice still raspy with sleep, “it’s still a little difficult to get dressed.”
“Oh,” she said plainly, forcing her gaze back to his, watching as his grin tugged. It looked like he thought about saying something, the way his lips rolled and his eyes lidded, but he didn’t.
Instead, Kanan leaned toward the mirror, fiddled with his small beard and ran his fingers over the beginnings of a moustache he did not want. He lifted a razor, twirling it in his hand. Just before he started shaving, he caught her eye in the mirror. “You smell different.”
Partly taken by surprise, and partly embarrassed because he caught her staring again, Hera dipped her brows and frowned at him.
“New lotion?” She suggested, embarrassed by the low volume of her voice.
With a stripe of foam rubbed onto his face and a razor in hand, Kanan pulled a face as he leaned towards her. His eyes fluttered closed as his dipped into the space between her earcone and shoulder.
Hera stiffened, not at all sure of what to do. She remained very still as Kanan’s shoulder and neck neared her. From there, she could spy the purple pattern of bruises coating his shoulder, turning the golden brown patch of skin a muddy colour instead. She could feel the warmth radiate from him, supposing that’s why he always slept shirtless. Human men were so weird, she often thought.
“That’s it,” he inhaled, serving a neat smile at the same time, “like chocolate.”
He teetered back with a bit more alertness and his classic grin intact. Hera gave him a shake of her head with an unfocused gaze, and skirted out sideways like usual before he stripped. After a couple seconds, the shower switched on behind the closed door and Hera relaxed. She unclenched the tightness in her body and made her way to the kitchen, trying to forget all about Kanan and his untied hair and lack of clothing.
Distracted, she spilt a little caf on her hand and down her wrist. She swore at the cup like it was the fault of the material and not her daydreams. She supposed she should stop considering Kanan before a real problem would arise.
The galaxy hadn’t granted her the time to consider anything like that, anything like him. She didn’t like him like that, not really.
And yet, when he ducked into the kitchen and fought her for the last of the caf, still dripping wet, especially his hair, Hera found herself once again considering.
She followed him with interested eyes. For once, not friendly, but friendlier. He was all angles in a way; height of a small tower, wide like he’d put effort into working out and forever identifiable by his structured nose.
There was something about him like there always was something about him, but this time it was working for her. He’d never not been attractive, he didn’t get suddenly beautiful overnight, but now he seemed like a type of visual poetry that was written for her.
Maybe she rejected the carousing lover-type he used to be, the one she picked up on Gorse for a reason she never fully explained to herself. Yet, this new Kanan. This type of Kanan made something pull at her. Like something inside of her was clawing to get out.
She intended with great severity to keep it all in.
The new boy, a little Lothrat, had scurried aboard and turned the Ghost upside down within a week. Not only was there more upkeep to be done within the ship, there was Jedi training to be taught. Kanan hadn’t taken it difficulty so to speak. It had been difficult, but that was definitely the combination of a new lodger and the shocking confirmation that the Force still produced baby Jedi. The latter probably caused Kanan to short circuit in a way, his mood had certainly fractured.
They had always been crewmates, Captain and crew to be specific. That was the way it was, and the way it had been for four years. Four years was good, it was enough to establish a decent relationship and they worked well together in the field and at home. They were basically married without the romantic aspect and truly cared for the other.
The charm - the annoying charm - had decreased over the years. So had the flirting and cocky remarks. Kanan had grown up and parted ways with his roguish youth. It served him well. He wasn’t charming her now, not at all. He was there, beside her on the acceleration couch, being comforting in her earcone.
“Are you worried?” He asked, his hand rubbing small circles on her back. He was anxious too, he just hid it better.
“No. Yes. Zeb’s there. He’ll keep an eye on them.” Hera sighed, sinking deeper into her hands. Her mind continued to whir about the endless possibilities of what she could’ve done better, what she could’ve corrected…
“I should’ve checked the curfew. I forgot about the weekends.” She sighed bitterly, pissed off at herself because it was her job to get these things right. “At least they’re at Jho’s.”
“It’s not your fault.” He said with a comforting gaze, his hand reaching to squeeze her shoulder. They were friends. “They’re at Jho’s, safe. They’ll be back in the morning. There’s nothing we can do now.”
Hera peered at him, between her fingers as she slowly dropped her hands from her face. He was angled towards her, deeply besotted, something only noticeable when the light betrayed him or he’d had too much to drink. Or even worse, something that happened when they were truly alone.
Hera hadn’t considered the third option until that moment, when his eyes sparkled at hers. But that might been clever work of the night cycle lighting. It had to be, because her treacherous imagination was going to cause a serious issue if not prevented. It took a surprising amount of strength to banish all images of Kanan in the ‘fresher that morning a few weeks back. She shook her head as if to physically remove the memory.
They were just friends.
“I hope Ezra is alright.” She said bitterly. The only thing that distracted her from her missing crew was Kanan, and yet the missing crew distracted her from Kanan.
Just friends.
Kanan leaned in, the hand that was cupping her shoulder pad clutched momentarily to help him adjust. His body sided against hers as much as possible - he was going in for just a hug.
“He will be fine, Captain.” That hand on her shoulder pad? Now it resided on her waist, comfortably above her hip that introduced itself with a reassuring squeeze. She was tightly embraced in his arm, most of her flush against him, tucked into his shoulder.
Dangerously, he titled his head to hers. “I promise.”
Only friends.
She knew he liked her, at least he did back on Gorse, and a moment here and there. The heart inside her that was skipping beats knew he liked her. Hera didn’t consider her feelings in return, there hadn’t been a moment for it. Most aspects of her life were scheduled; meetings, training, fixing up the ship… there hadn’t been time for anything - not like that.
Now, under the faulty night cycle lighting, it seemed like all they had was time.
If Zeb had pushed harder with the kids and stopped them getting sidetracked, Sabine would be here to distract them all. She’d be bargaining with Kanan over what piece of armour she could paint next, and Ezra would be beside her looking as equally as troublesome. Although the trouble he got himself into usually involved Chopper or Zeb.
While he wasn’t a child, he certainly acted like it with Ezra onboard. The Lasat hadn’t taken kindly to a roommate, something that wasn’t in the primary deal when he joined up. Yet, he grew to be a brother-type in ways Hera hadn’t thought him capable of. With Kanan, Zeb was encouraging. He was a wingman, a drinking buddy, someone to gush about weapons with and whoever fought who on the holonet games.
Zeb wasn’t here now, not as Kanan’s wingman nor to stop him doing anything stupid.
Hera thought about it again, not the kids or Zeb, and she felt guilty about it - but the way Kanan’s lips might feel if pressed against hers. If she pinched her memories hard enough, she could recall a time where Okadiah might’ve called him successful with conquests. She might’ve recalled the way Zaluna thought his voice was dreamy, especially back when his sentences ended with ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’.
He might call her that, if they ever got close enough.
Hera let her head drop against his shoulder properly, as relaxed as she fought to be. She might’ve thought about kissing him but even if she didn’t, they might as well enjoy each others company, especially with a lack of it tonight.
Yet, the idea of being alone stirred something in her that only reminded her of her loneliness. She didn’t pity herself, didn’t feel like she was missing out. She wasn’t lonely but alone in that regard. She never knew what the opposite feeling felt like because she’d never found it.
Kanan was like that too, had a similar thing. Maybe he wasn’t lonely throughout his life, but after the fall of the Jedi, he certainly was alone. Kanan was a charmer though, that was a hard trait to lose, so he sought out company quite easily back then.
Sometimes she thought of what it would be like to be charmed by him, and her imagination usually fizzled out when she realised Kanan was not that man anymore.
In his reincarnation on her ship, he no longer was drunk and disorderly, but intelligent and well-kept. There were jokes and teases and lines drawn out but never did he cross a line. Maybe with his age, maybe with the two kids on board, he became someone a bit stoic and thoughtful. With less spontaneity, he became wiser - he no longer thought to run after a couple weeks.
Hera liked that, that he stayed. In those early weeks, she assumed it was because he was smitten with her and wanted something. He never offered and never tried, not even at her suggestion of contact. They were friends, so Hera touched him like one.
They always touched each other. There was no-one that took up as much of her personal space as he did. That wasn’t something unreciprocated, as Hera could be equally affectionate in return. A hand on his belt during an embrace, a coupe fingers tapping his side or perhaps she’d run to him after a particularly upsetting mission, especially if they were separated - all the more reason to jump into his arms.
Hera wanted to scowl. She was just as much to blame as he was.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t be blameless. Kanan had offered her a sip or two of an old brandy hidden at the back of the cupboard earlier when they found out Zeb, Sabine and Ezra were stuck at Jho’s place. Hera had refused him, intent to keep her head straight, just in case she was needed.
Zeb and the kids were at Jho’s, comfortable in an upstairs room and confirmed by Jho himself via a short transmission.
Kanan’s gaze found hers again, not like he’d ever lost it. Hera remained staring into his eyes but her mind wandered elsewhere, particularly to the picture of him in the ‘fresher.
She didn’t know where to start, so she found his hand that rested upon her hip. Drawing their fingers together, she offered him a polite smile. Then, with her other hand pressed between their bodies, she shimmied it free to instead, after a fleeting moment of panic, place on Kanan’s thigh.
Someone had to make the first move.
Hera very shyly met his gaze, one of brief confusion. He blinked down at her fingers, tight together en route to his knee. “Hera?”
“Uh-hu.” She didn’t spread her fingers across his thigh and claim him, instead her clammy digits wandered to his knee, a safer spot.
She shifted so that she faced him, squashing her arm and part of her leg as she turned. Her shoulder brushed his and her chestplate rubbed against his sweater. With an unsteadiness to her overall rhythm, she looked up at him.
Naturally, Kanan acknowledged her contact and returned it, letting his head dip to meet hers. As if he had a second thought, he veered away at the last second, encouraging Hera to let a pitiful, pained murmur.
“Hera,” he said delicately, and while he could be authoritative like the fearless leader she knew he was in the field, he slipped up as his voice grew huskier. “What - what are you doing?”
“Do you want to?” Then dangerously, she leaned into the air that separated their lips. The quickest brush of their mouths sent a shiver through her.
Kanan seemed to not only consider while he paused, but to fully digest Hera’s words. The slight jump of his statue, the crane of his head towards her and the rising corners of his mouth were all tells that he was actively interested.
“Yeah I want to.” He said with a twinge of desperation, his eyes unblinking over her again. Filling the space he recently departed, he leaned towards her face with great intention.
Hera gasped when their mouths fused together. Kanan’s hand, moulded to the back of her head, held her fiercely. Initially she was taken aback, frozen when everything felt too good, and forgot all about holding him in return.
Pushing herself to her knees, she managed to straddle him. Kanan made a noise of delight, drumming his fingers along her side in appreciation.
The booth’s table pushed uncomfortably into her back, but Hera ignored it, and then opted to press further into Kanan to free herself of the discomfort.
Kanan gave her a giddy grin as met her again, bringing their faces closer together to reignite their kiss.
“Are you good?” She asked breathlessly between kisses.
“Yeah, you’re good.” Kanan replied hoarsely.
Hera wanted to laugh, rolling her eyes. Shaking her head, she separated their lips briefly to speak.
“You idiot,” she smiled before pressing her mouth to his again, drawing out a tiny moan as she pulled on his lower lip. She furthered clarified, “is this okay? Are you-“
”Am I okay?” Kanan scoffed. “Sweetheart, for the first time in my life I’m okay.”
Hera reached to stroke his face, a tentative thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “We should’ve done this ages ago.” She admitted shyly.
“Well, I tried.” He retorted smugly.
”Kanan, asking me to sleep with you the first day we met is not trying.”
“Easy.” He held up his hands in mock-surrender, then adjusted Hera on his lap. “After that, I didn’t think you’d want anything like this.”
”That was years ago!” She said with more than a hint of exasperation.
”To be honest, I’m a little surprised.” Kanan continued. “What, were you just waiting for the kids to be out?”
”Don’t think so highly of yourself.” She gave his shoulder a light slap.
Hera leaned in again, tasting what she hadn’t got quite enough of. Their lips rolled together in a rhythm that wasn’t difficult to create or follow.
“You’re definitely okay with this?” Kanan whispered against her mouth, his hands squeezing either side of her waist where they rested under her shirt.
”Kanan.” Hera whined.
”I just want you to be sure.” He replied.
“I’m sure.”
She kissed him with confirmation and from there they both moved again. Haphazardly, they pawed at clothes and skin and in Kanan’s case, hair. Hera found herself puzzled at the strange furry sensation but when her hands travelled up his bare arms to the back of his neck, she decided she quite liked it.
The common room was not the place to ignite the thing between them, so they moved. Hera slammed her hand on the control panel to her cabin, then paused. She met Kanan’s gaze with confusion and he immediately submitted.
”If you don’t want -“ he started, but Hera threw a hand up to cut him off.
“Your room instead.” She made her way to Kanan’s room, standing before the door to activate its sensors. The door swooshed open to reveal Kanan’s somber chambers.
“Perfect.” She said as she neared the bed, one that was lower to the ground. Unlike Kanan’s cabin, Hera’s was built for one crewmate and offered storage for larger equipment that the Ghost occasionally required. It meant her bed was levelled higher, out of reach. Not that she ever had the opportunity to try, but she figured it wouldn’t make for a comfortable sexual experience.
As if the mere minutes their mouths had been separated had starved him, Kanan grasped her from behind and spun her, forcing their bodies flush together. They collapsed onto the lower bunk and after two or three violent encounters with the upper bunk, ended up verbally reminding each other of the short ceiling above their heads.
Partly dressed, a little more bare than the other had ever seen them. Hera struggled with the belt of her flight suit, somehow it length of it caught in her boot. Kanan stripped everything from her - boot, sock, belt - with incredible ease. His deft fingers worked gently at the fastenings of her clothes, while hers were shy in return.
A bit awkward, a bit red in the face. This probably wasn’t the picture that his other drunk lovers were used to, Hera thought. He said something while he was quite flustered and repeated it again when he calmed down. Something sweet and adoring if she didn’t doubt him, muffled against her skin, sending dancing tremors up her body.
Hera spread out as much as possible on the bunk, cramped now with two bodies squished together. She kicked away pillows and blankets to make room for a better activity than sleeping.
Kanan held a bracing arm under her head, allowing the heavy set of lekku to pool onto the mattress at an angle not so painful. The same manoeuvre made Hera lean into him, her body prompted by his arm.
Kanan broke into a smile. He stopped to look at her from where he was, inches from her face. His eyes fluttered back and forth over her before he decided to kiss her gently, unhurriedly on the lips. Her breast, now naked, grazed his chest. The soft flesh prickled at the slight chill in the air.
The warm-up was drawn out, for Hera’s comfort it seemed. Kanan was back and forth with easing and relaxing her body, something new beneath him that he took time to work out. He didn’t need to know it all, but it was a nice change from a man that would poke and prod with flimsy intention. When he dipped his hand past her basics for the first time ever, she swore she felt him tremble. Any giddy excitement was downplayed by Kanan’s smarmy tone filling the air.
“Someone’s been thinking about this…” he murmured with a low drawl, perhaps he chuckled too, but Hera wasn’t listening.
Instead, she smacked her lips together, taking a break from kissing him. She breathed in through her nose, a tight constriction in her chest. With heavy lidded eyes she managed to encourage him, even when his body stilled and started above her, wary of hurting her.
When he pushed into her, just a little bit, he was talking her through it. Maybe she didn’t need a guide for sex even though most men insisted the woman beneath them never fully comprehended it all, but she liked Kanan, his hands and voice guiding her.
So, humans were big. Or he was. That was interesting, but unsurprising as she’d heard more than a few lewd stories from dimly-lit corners of cantinas. She never wanted to listen, but her curiosity always got the better of her. It certainly wasn’t uncomfortable, more of a fulfilling pleasure she hadn’t quite adjusted to.
Kanan caught her eye, unfolding his hand to clasp hers. Hera managed a wobbly smile and grasped his hand in return. She was clutching him so very tight, damp fingers intertwined and locked with a fierce intensity. There was no going back now and Hera genuinely wondered if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life or the best.
Tchin and tchun were fidgeting wildly, taken aback from the sudden burst of pleasure that was riding through them. Maybe the wiggling was what drew Kanan towards them, possibly. His dark hand outstretched, the other remained under Hera and he somehow retained all balance.
The lekku rose to attention as they were obsessed with any contact, especially one that felt like that. Hera wanted to roll her fully shuttered eyes, but couldn’t draw herself out of the flood of pleasure she was drowning in. If Kanan wanted to add to that, that was fine.
“Can I? I mean - do you want, no - do you need me to -“ he stuttered.
“Yes.” Hera interrupted in a flustered plea. “Yes.” She repeated again to ensure he understood the message.
Trembling fingers seized her, taking one appendage at a time, or so Hera thought. Kanan’s stroked tchin gently, working up to a rapid rhythm while he angled his face to kiss down tchun, granting both appendages his attention.
“Kanan.” She cried as his body wobbled above her.
Kanan, even with his name on her lips, wasn’t as smug as before, not when he was focused on carrying a rhythm in his hips and kissing every inch of green skin within reach.
With the strength she thought she lost, Hera flipped them over so that she was straddling him. Instead of offering him rest and letting him lay down on his back, Hera kept her arm firm around him and pulled him towards her for a kiss.
The odd angle of sex sent a sharpness through her if she rolled her hips in a certain way. All her wiggling and adjusting must’ve encouraged pleasure to intensify through Kanan. His hand fisted behind her, where it rested on her lower back until it palmed out to hold her instead.
Their sweat seeped in places Hera doubted pores existed and for the first time in her life, she realised how much work actually had to go into good sex. But work had never felt so good, not when her legs were giving out from under her.
She swore loudly in Ryl as her crescendo hit, hips stuttering madly against Kanan. When he clutched and groped at her wildly, she knew he was finding his own peak as well.
A pitchy moan left Kanan’s lips as his hand swatted at his face, swiping sticky hairs back into place. In all the shadows and pathetic lighting of the room, she managed to make out the little grin on his face as he laid back.
Falling forward, Hera’s head met his chest and stayed there for a moment, before her legs shifted to roll off of him. A large, firm hand stopped her. Its partnering hand fled towards her head with the intent to stroke her.
The hand stilled, just above an impatient tchin. “Is it okay-“
”Mhmm.” She nodded into his skin, her nose pressed hard into the golden brown planes of his abs. She breathed in his scent and sweat, her lips wet against his skin.
The large hand touched her lekku again, this time with delicate, light movements. Her eyelids needed no persuasion to droop, not when her body was totally worn out.
The warmth of the sex had sent her into a blissful haze she was sure she would fall asleep in. She rested for a minute or two, feeling nothing but Kanan’s beating heart underneath her.
Beaten by exhaustion, Kanan’s delicate movements faltered and became heavy, his fingers settled on the friendly appendages. Hera looked up at him obligingly, so he petted her lekku again. When she was capable enough to return the favour, she pressed kisses onto his chest.
“What was that thing you said?” Kanan asked hesitantly through sagged breaths.
“Hmm?” She murmured groggily.
”It wasn’t… it wasn’t Basic. Or I didn’t hear you properly, or -“
”Oh, yeah.” She relaxed back on his chest, turning her head sideways to make it a little more comfortable. “It’s a curse word. Ryl.”
”Ah.” Kanan clicked his tongue, the only noise between them for a few moments.
“Like in a good way or…” he asked again, not persistent, simply curious.
”Yep. Yeah, in a good way.” Hera patted his arm, his bicep specifically.
”Oh, good.” He cleared his throat. “Good.”
They weren’t talking about it, at least not at the moment. Idealising a menu for breakfast was taking up most of their conversation. Although once they’d settled down each with a knife and fork in hand, they remained remarkably quiet.
Hera was in recovery, her legs aching still and her body flushed in a way that only resembled the post-sex bliss. Apparently, once they were outside her cabin, they were back to normal captain and crew, even if their undressed evidence was said otherwise.
Waffles and syrup make for sweet kisses, the overconsumption of sugar gave Hera a headache, but she tried not to think about that.
Kanan was chewing softly beside her, his hand without a fork resting on his thigh, the smallest finger grazing Hera’s leg. His eyes fell to where his sweater rolled off her shoulder, gracing him to a view of her glistening skin, still radiant with the evidence of a good time.
Hera spoke after finishing one waffle. “We shouldn’t do that again.”
“Oh, yeah. Totally.” Kanan swallowed as he nodded.
“Yeah.” She exhaled a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.
”Cool.”
Turning back to her food, Hera pursed her lips as she reached for her caf.
”Are your waffles good?” She asked.
”Yeah, great.” Kanan answered timidly, his fork made a scratching sound against the plate.
When conversation was too quiet on the Ghost, the ship’s unbearable humming sound was more apparent than ever. The noise drove Hera a bit mad, mad enough to ask Kanan another question.
”Wanna get a shower?” The words laced the air similar to one of Sabine’s homemade explosions. Improvised, perhaps ill-timed, but deadly.
Kanan inhaled sharply, the cutlery dropped against the table. Another irritating sound. His hand drummed on his thigh as he leant back, reclining his head against the height of the seat.
Eventually, his eyes connected with hers. With a curved grin on his face, he answered. “Yeah.”
Hera needed no excuse to jump up beside Kanan, allowing him to lead her to the ‘fresher. Things didn’t seem disjointed between them, nothing outwardly unusual. They were still friends, just friends that witnessed each other naked and participated in ground-breaking, galaxy-shattering activities. They were friends that certainly liked each other, perhaps romantically felt for each other and in some way, definitely loved each other.