Work Text:
"What's going on, A'Sharad?"
"They wanted me to take off my mask."
"I'm sure they-"
"They tried to take it off."
Aayla fell silent and turned slowly towards the bar, her lips pursed to meet her entire tense face.
A'Sharad suspected she was thinking of going to defend his honour, but it would do no good. Some things just could not be changed.
Downstairs, down to the street, young Knights in various states of intoxication were celebrating the chivalry of a young Changrian girl he did not know but Aayla did and she had invited him. Aayla knew a lot of people and always invited a lot of people to parties, she had a community spirit and cohesiveness that he could only envy, and he was aware that sociability was important, the Jedi were like a great big tribe, it was always interesting to meet family members, no matter how distant.
Except that sometimes A'Sharad felt more like an attraction, an intruder, an outsider, than a Jedi. His Tusken traditions were off-putting to many and disconcerting to all Jedi of their age. The only mask they found acceptable to wear was that of the Temple Guards.
In a way, even if her outfits provoked more appreciation for their advantageous aesthetics or strong symbolism, Aayla was like him: different.
It was one of the many reasons he liked her so much.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think they... sorry."
"Don't apologise, it's nothing."
"It's not nothing, since you're here and not inside."
"I just wanted to drink in peace," he explained, pointing to the orange Champala beer sitting next to him, "I'll go back after."
"You don't have to, you know? You always come when I invite you, it's okay if you don't want to see them again tonight," she finally said as she slowly sat down next to him, mimicking his position with her legs in the air.
A'Sharad was a child of the desert, he liked to see the horizon, and as it was absolutely impossible on Coruscant, he was often above things and people. He liked to perch on rooftops.
"I don't do things I don't like."
"But sometimes you do things you don't particularly like out of a sense of social pressure, don't think I'm ignoring it, I see it when you behave the way you think people want you to and not the way you are."
"It's not... it's not really pressure, even unconscious pressure," he tried to explain. "I'm very aware of what I'm doing, and I'm just... smoothing the rough the edges."
The Twi'lek glanced at him so quickly that he doubted he had seen correctly.
"Is there so much to smooth out?"
"I'm not like the rest of you, he reminded her," still a little bitter at not feeling like he belonged. "I am Tusken, that's what I am, the Jedi are an addition to what I was but they are not my essence. If I gave my opinions, I would be unnecessarily shocking. It is unnecessary."
"It's never pointless to be yourself."
"Says the woman who wears ultra-tight and sexy outfits."
"I do it by choice," Aayla immediately justified herself.
"Are you going to tell me that's what you really prefer? That you wouldn't rather be in soft, fluffy outfits, outfits that draw more attention to your eyes than to your breasts or your ass?"
They challenged each other with their eyes, but finally Aayla was the one who looked away first.
"By the way, while we're on the subject."
She accepted his cloak and slipped it over her signature revealing dress, pulling it tight around her frail body. He was rather large and muscular, she was swimming in his cape but did not complain. She never complained.
"Thank you."
She had once compared him to her Master, Knight Vos, saying that their presence felt quite similar... He still did not know if it was a compliment. Especially since he'd met the scowling Jedi Shadow.
A weight fell on his shoulder and he said nothing and was careful not to move, retrieving his beer with his left hand to take a sip, lifting his mask slightly. He knew she would not look.
"I'm tired, you know. As Jedi, we're not allowed to make political statements, except that any subject can be used in politics, and... in the end, our appearance, our body... it's the only thing that's really ours to use as we wish. I wish the others could understand that."
"Hmm..."
"And I'm so tired... tired of being judged, of being looked at, even in the Temple, even by Jedi..."
"They're looking because you're beautiful," A'Sharad commented with an amused smile, "and because you've got more nerve in your little finger than they have in their whole body."
"Tell me, why am I beautiful?" the Twi'lek asked abruptly, standing up straight.
"What is it?"
"You say I'm beautiful, but why, what makes me beautiful? Why are Leks considered attractive? Why-"
"Oh, that's not what I meant," he says very quickly, wanting to correct the misunderstanding. "I personally don't see any point in the Lek fetish, I mean, it would be like having a thing for the extra two arms of the Besalisk or the Quermian, it just doesn't make sense. No, when I said you're beautiful, I meant as a Tusken."
The Twi'lek's gaze became sharper.
"Surprise me. What makes me beautiful for a Tusken?"
"You are family oriented. It is essential for a good Tusken to be unifying and protective, compassionate and also strong in public, because there are plenty of enemies. You are brave and strong, sociable and caring, in my tribe, of all the Jedi I know, you would have been the most courted woman by far."
He saw very clearly the way his comrade's cheeks turned darker.
"Oh, come on, you show off your body but you're not used to compliments?" He teased before laughing as she punched him in the shoulder.
This girl was a surprising and mysterious paradox, a strong backbone in a frail body, shyness underneath confidence and a lot of affection underneath an impassive exterior. He liked that about her, it was as if she wore a mask in public to reveal herself only in private. A bit like a Tusken, and it was reassuring.
Perhaps a little too familiar, in fact, because now, after all these random and casual meetings, he felt attached to her. He felt really comfortable with her, and that was... scary.
"You don't have to stay here, you can go have fun with the others," he reminded her, trying to distract her.
Not very subtle, but hey, the Tusken weren't known for their subtlety.
"I know, but I'd rather stay here with you."
He turned to look at her.
"Really? Why?"
The advantage of glasses was that you could look at different places without anyone knowing, and A'Sharad followed with his eyes the contractions of her Lek as she pouted, looking away with a shrug.
"It's just that... oh, well…"
She crouched down and reached out to put her hands on his neck. He feared for a second that she would pull his mask off, and he feared even more that he would not have the strength to push her away if she did, but her fingers stayed where they were and, wide-eyed and holding his breath under his mask, A'Sharad saw the pretty young woman's face approach his.
Just as he was about to ask her what she was doing, she closed her eyes and the slightly soft texture of his mask moved and rippled in response to a firm pressure... on his mouth.
She... oh sweet desert, she was kissing him.
"I don't really have a word for it in Basic," she whispered, "and I know your Ryl isn't great. Does that answer your question?"
"Yeah, I... yeah."
His heart was beating a little faster. A lot faster, actually. He felt like he was gasping again for breath in front of the Krayt dragon he had slaughtered to become an adult when he was fifteen.
He did not feel ready to take off his mask yet. He had not even taken it off for Master Ki-Adi or his other Master, the one who had no name, or rather, the one who did not want a name.
Slowly, hesitantly, A'Sharad raised his hand and placed it on Aayla's cheek.
"I... I don't-"
"I don't demand anything," she talked back with a firm look.
He relaxed and came around to hug her.
"I don't have any words you could understand either, and I don't really know how to explain how I feel with you, but I know that with you I feel good about being myself."
"I feel that too."
One day he hoped to be able to return that kiss, but in the meantime, he would chose cuddling.
He was a good hugger.