Chapter Text
Stranger in a crowd
Treading fire after dark
Lost in a city
Pulsing to the sound
Of the spirit and soul
VNV Nation - When is the future
Life is good aboard research station Aurek-1. Sure, Conan Antonio Motti has never been the one to enjoy meetings with the sort of barely-polite bickering people like Krennic like to engage in, but being on the Joint Chiefs together with Tiaan has them working together very closely.
So closely that it is only natural Rear Admiral Jerjerrod and Admiral Motti spend even their off-hours together. They are both working hard on the project, after all. Their dedication knows no boundaries.
Tiaan is in his element. He is not given free reign, unfortunately someone saw it fit to put Krennic in charge, but he is able to do what he likes best: designing. Conan misses the on-the-spot split-second decisions coming from serving on a Star Destroyer in active battle, but being able to sit back and watch Tiaan run his hands over the complicated schematics holds its appeal.
At present, he’s also sitting back to watch Tiaan, but Tiaan is not working on schematics. Tiaan is putting the Emperor’s pet project in his rightful place.
Thrawn.
Impossibly, shockingly large and impossibly, shockingly blue, he had marched into the large meeting room as if he owned the whole research station. Conan had heard the rumours. It was said the alien had been found on some backwater planet and that the Emperor had been so impressed by him, he’d risen through the ranks faster than even Conan and Tiaan.
He’s wearing the white uniform of a Grand Admiral as if he was born in it. On some lesser men the uniform looks as if it’s wearing them. A shield to hide their insecurities. On Thrawn, it looks like a second skin, serving a purpose as much as his blaster or Star Destroyer. The uniform is a tool he wields, made to enhance what is already there. He looks Imperial, even though there is nothing Imperial about how starkly white that uniform is against cerulean skin, or how those red eyes seem to glitter.
Equally Imperial is the smugness in which he was talking to Krennic about his own TIE-fighter project, that he feels is vastly superior to the Death Star project. He had then made the mistake of directly challenging the design, which had Tiaan scrunch his nose and speak up in his coldest tone.
Conan grins as he observes their verbal back-and-forth. He loves it when Tiaan gets to show off just how clever he is. Too many people assume Tiaan is one of those odd, stuffy aristocrats that only got his rank thanks to a healthy flow of credits, rather than hard work. Thrawn likely assumed the same.
It is clear he isn’t used to being responded to like this. No doubt the alien has gotten very comfortable running circles around Humans. Conan can’t really blame him for that. As much as he doesn’t care for the alien’s tone, it can’t have been easy for him to get where he is now. Alone in an Empire made up entirely of Humans, he’s as isolated as they get.
Conan can’t entirely read the alien’s face, but he has the distinct impression something shifted. There seems to be a hint of amusement there now that the initial shock of Tiaan’s questioning has worn off. It’s not amusement at Tiaan, but an amusement at being challenged. At a particularly intense flash of Thrawn’s eyes, Conan realises that he is amused in the way a loth cat is amused when playing with its prey.
It sends a stab of protectiveness and possessiveness through Conan. Tiaan draws himself up in his chair. He meets that unnaturally glowing red gaze without flinching.
“Actually, a single glance at the base plans would have told you that we have already tested and adjusted for this extensively. Maybe you should take another look.”
Thrawn’s eyes narrow dangerously at Tiaan’s words and Conan finds himself leaning forward with his hands balled into fists. Tiaan, however, seems entirely unconcerned. He is looking at Thrawn the same way he looks at a mildly interesting project. He gives Thrawn one of his tight little smiles and Conan wants to kiss him senseless.
Thrawn opens his mouth to retort, but Tarkin beats him to it.
“Enough.” The Grand Moff’s voice comes as ice-cold and razor-sharp as ever. Thrawn seems close to ignoring him and a part of Conan hopes that he does. It’d be an excellent show. With another glance at Tarkin, though, Thrawn settles back in his chair. Tiaan gives him another little smile and reaches for his notes.
“Yes, Grand Moff, so as I was saying….”
Tiaan’s plummy baritone washes over him and Conan mostly forgets about the alien Admiral.
~~~
“He is quite a piece of work, isn’t he, Conan?” Tiaan sniffs once they have sat down for midmeal.
Conan takes his time to respond as he chews on his shaak steak. “Thought you liked the chance for a civilised discussion, really.”
Tiaan bristles. “There was nothing civilised about the way he just marched in with his own project. Maybe that’s the way things go where he is from, but certainly not here.” Tiaan stabs his melon with slightly or force than needed, showing his inner turmoil.
Under the table, away from prying eyes, Conan gently nudges his leg with his foot. “You were brilliant as always, Ti.”
Tiaan’s answering smile is bright and fond, and Conan adores him.
~~~
Coruscant is always a bustle of sounds, colours and lights. Tiaan finds the Coruscanti to be over the top, far too gauche for his tastes. Conan doesn’t care for the planet, either. Unfortunately for them, attending these awful formal socials is more or less mandatory for their ranks.
Generally, Conan keeps himself entertained by seeing how often he can touch Tiaan without being obvious about it. Tiaan always leans into the touches and that pleases him. They aren’t free to fully show themselves as a couple in public, but it is certainly known by everyone that Rear Admiral Jerjerrod and Admiral Motti are very close friends.
Tiaan’s parents are doing their best to convince themselves of the same, despite their many vacations to Val Denn bringing overwhelming evidence of the fact Tiaan is never going to settle down with some responsible girl from a rich family.
Tiaan is just pointing out how overdressed everyone is when he walks in.
Grand Admiral Thrawn looks even more huge in dress uniform. The golden epaulets look almost comically small on his massive shoulders. The belt is straining around his waist. Conan doesn’t miss the way Tiaan’s eyes move over the barely contained heft of the alien’s chest.
“Has he gotten…bigger?” Tiaan’s whisper comes in warm puffs against Conan’s ear.
“Indeed I have,” the alien booms out at a volume more appropriate to the bridge of a Star Destroyer in active battle. Tiaan flushes. Apparently, the alien Admiral has better hearing than Humans.
Conan draws himself up when Thrawn reaches them. It’s not often that he feels small, but Thrawn is taller than the both of them by some considerable margin. Conan does not care for it. “Life as a Grand Admiral treating you right, then?”
Thrawn’s eyes rest on him for a few moments and Conan calmly meets his gaze. Thrawn can probably bully his subordinates like this, but not Conan. One side of the alien’s mouth moves up in something Conan isn’t sure is a sneer or a smirk.
“Very much so, Admiral Motti.” The confidence practically drips from the man’s voice. It’s a nice voice, objectively. Very deep, a rumbling bass-baritone with no trace of whatever his native tongue is. There is steel underneath it though. It’s clear this is not a man to mess with.
Conan has always welcomed a challenge.
“How’s that TIE project coming along then?” He ignores Tiaan’s jab to his ribs. Thrawn’s eyes stray to the gesture before moving back up to look Conan in the eye.
“It has been postponed, as I think you are both well aware,” Thrawn rumbles.
“Well, the Emperor clearly understands the need to focus on projects that will be a guaranteed success,” Tiaan puts in.
Thrawn’s eyes narrow. Conan is struck with that same sense of looking at a predator as in their first meeting. There is a strained silence, and then Thrawn seems to make up his mind. “We do not share the same opinion on what constitutes a success, Rear Admiral Tiaan Jerjerrod.”
There is something off about the way Thrawn adds Tiaan’s first name, other than the obvious fact that it is very inappropriate. There is an energy to it that suggests that for Thrawn, this holds a very significant meaning. Conan doesn’t like it. Judging by the slight tightness around his eyes, neither does Tiaan. A swift attack is needed to put the alien back in his place. He may be the Emperor’s pet project, and he may outrank them, but this is still the Imperial Navy.
“Sounds to me you’re just a sore loser,” Conan says. He delights in the barely-there twitch the alien gives at being called out like that.
“Perhaps you do not understand a long-term strategy,” Thrawn grumbles, stepping up even closer. He’s very much in Conan’s space, but he refuses to budge. He shifts his weight slightly, putting his feet a little further apart in a pose reminiscent of a starting pose when sparring. Thrawn’s eyes flicker at it and Conan realises he has caught the movement and understands what it means.
“Wanna try a spar?” He blurts out the words without thinking. Next to him, Tiaan has gone rigid. Thrawn looks thoughtful. He slowly looks Conan up and down, without even trying to hide it.
“Very well, there is a gym here.”
It’s the beginning of one of the most interesting friendships Conan has ever had.