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The manor house doesn’t just dominate the landscape; it sprawls across it, the wings thrown wide and opening into vast courtyards for the invited guests to cluster together, break apart and reform like a living sea. Obi-Wan strides through one of the cobblestone walkways — a mind boggling expense given that the planet is mostly soft soil compacted on top of itself with minimal landscape features that could be described as pebbles, let alone true stone — and swings left, his hand securely in Cody’s. The other man’s pulse is steady in his wrist, higher than normal but that is to be expected given the battlefield they’re striding across is an entirely different calibre to what he is used to.
Still, Obi-Wan’s heart twists in his chest, guilt and shame warring in equal devastating measures. He could have requested a fellow Knight for this mission, an older Padawan or a member of the Corps at a stretch, but when the parameters had been laid out, Cody had simply nodded, not entertaining the thought that it would be anyone other than him accompanying Obi-Wan as his companion to spy on a ludicrously fancy party. He does look stunning in his outfit. The replicators could work wonders on short notice if the Engineering department was given enough creative leeway.
Obi-Wan tugs at Cody’s wrist, drawing him alongside. He tips his head sideways as they step through one of the open doors — stretching from ceiling to floor with delicate panes of glass, no true cover to be seen — and carefully crowds Cody back against the doorframe, lowering his mouth to his right ear. “How are you holding up, my dear?” He carefully sweeps his fingertips up Cody’s neck, a shiver rolling through the other man, and brushes against the earpiece in his other ear, concealed enough by a decorative metal framework and the fall of Cody’s curls.
“Well enough. It’s a little cold however. Love.”
Through the crack of his lashes, Obi-Wan can see Cody’s expression falter, his eyes widening as his gaze wanders, settling everywhere except Obi-Wan. He swallows, his tongue prodding the barely healed scab on his lower lip, and carefully leans into Obi-Wan’s touch. Cody holds himself still, his muscles locked into place until he’s near enough trembling from the effort. “You’re doing very well. Just relax.”
Cody pulls in a breath through his teeth and blows out slowly, his shoulders inching downwards, his head growing a little heavier in Obi-Wan’s palm. “I’ll try.”
Obi-Wan nods, brushing his thumb over Cody’s cheek before he parts, taking the other man’s hand once more. The set-up for the mission had been simple enough; a pair infiltrate the party, one taking to lead to avoid suspicion from the other guests and their eventual targets, the other acting as the pretty sidepiece and listening to the network of devices scattered around the grounds to monitor the retrieval of information. Obi-Wan just needed to look after Cody. He weaves through the scattered groups, the heels on his boots clicking against the floor. Along one wall is a stretch of mirrors and Obi-Wan allows himself a glance, no more, no less, to drink them both in. They’re well-matched in the intricacies of their outfits, the crossing ties that run from the base of Obi-Wan’s spine complimenting the similar network over the planes of Cody’s chest, the gold bright against the dark fabric of his shirt. The clothing is tailored for them both, drawing in at the waist and flaring out over the hips, and the trousers cling tight enough that they’re barely there for anything other than texture. The outfits would be recycled when they return to the transport, possibly on the transport if the way Cody had only just stopped fidgeting when the manor had broken on the horizon, but Obi-Wan would remember this.
A small sitting area is tucked against an unnecessary amount of plants, secluded enough that it wouldn’t raise any questions if a pair were to fold themselves away for a time and it would let Cody rest his feet. Soldier boots are world’s away from the delicate golden strappy set that had been produced for him.
“Just relax,” Obi-Wan murmurs as he unfurls himself across the seat with a sigh. Cody’s hand tightens in his, one blink, then two, and Cody follows where Obi-Wan leads, carefully perching himself across the stretch of one thigh. He draws his legs up at Obi-Wan’s urging, stretching his legs across the other seat. His sigh is low, near reverant, and he relaxes against Obi-Wan.
“Thank you.”
“Taking care of you is no trouble.” Obi-Wan draws Cody’s hand to mouth, kissing the curve of his knuckles. It’s just for the mission, ostensibly for the mission despite how much Obi-Wan craves the small piece of contact. He glances at Cody, his eyes wide and dark, and settles back for a long evening.