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“Are those my shorts?”
The slow, sluggish way in which Cody lifts his head from Obi-Wan’s left pec would be infuriating if Rex wasn’t already so pissed off. The single lazy blink that follows only adds injury to insult.
“What’s it to you?” Rex’s brother—unfortunately—and boyfriend—also unfortunately—drawls before he lets his head drop back onto Obi-Wan’s chest, eliciting a muffled “Oof”.
“What’s it to—? Oh, you kriffing bastard.” Rex unfreezes from where he’s stopped in the doorframe and crosses the room until he’s standing over Obi-Wan and Cody lounging on the bed.
Obi-Wan, as always, is in full kit—pajama pants and his fleecy tooka sweater, probably with an undershirt hidden underneath it—while Cody is snuggled to his side like a mynock to a leaky power coupling. He escapes the very definition of the word ‘naked’ only thanks to the white shorts with blue trim that are straining over his ass. Rex is badly tempted to reach out and give the offending curve a firm slap, watch it jiggle and hear Cody yelp even at the risk of attracting Obi-Wan’s ire—because those are Rex’s shorts, the white fabric with blue trim matching one of the undershirts in his underwear drawer.
But he’s stronger than that. So, instead, he says, “You know exactly what it is to me. Your fat ass makes my underwear go baggy—I had to order two new packs in the past month alone.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t look up from his holozine even as he gives a brief snort. “He’s got you there, love. Your curves have certainly grown more… voluptuous lately. Beautiful, really.”
“I’m not about to start dieting.” Cody sounds muffled from where he’s pressing his face into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck—and then, there’s a sound Rex knows only too well from late-night strategy sessions and early morning campaigns.
The fucker actually has the nerve to yawn at him.
That’s it. “I don’t care what you do with your body, but what you are about to do is to give my shorts back.” The mattress dips under Rex’s weight when he kneels on it, and then he’s leaning forward and tugging at the hem of Cody’s—no, his—shorts. The only thing that’s stopping him from pulling them clean off is the fact that Cody is currently lying on them, looking like he hasn’t the least intention of budging. “Fucking move, you—”
Cody gives a noise of protest against Obi-Wan’s neck and kicks backward, and Rex only narrowly misses out on getting his guts braided around Cody’s toes. Oh, the shabuir. Setting two fingers against the skin of Cody’s thigh, Rex pinches—and delights in the loud yelp it earns him.
“You little—” The muscles in Cody’s back strain as he begins to sit up, but Obi-Wan’s already got an arm locked around his shoulders and uses it to mash Cody’s face back against his ample chest.
“Gentlemen,” he intones, voice dripping ice that makes even Cody stop writhing and swearing in his hold, and Rex feels his back go rigid with the slightest bit of fear, “there’s no need to catch an innocent bystander like me in the crossfire. Please, if you cannot resolve this issue like the civilized sentient beings that I know you are, then take it elsewhere.”
“He started it.” Cody’s beginning to sound like the lack of oxygen might be getting to him—either that, or he’s experiencing the same thing Rex does when his face is anywhere near Obi-Wan’s tits, a feeling which can be most closely described as ‘pure bliss’.
Either way, Rex finds he doesn’t care. He takes his hands off his—his, not Cody’s—shorts and stands.
“I didn’t start it. But I’m going to end it.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer from either of them before he turns and stalks out of the room. He knows what to do now.
He just hopes Cody’s keeping the door to his room unlocked like always.
By the time he walks back into the room, Obi-Wan has moved on from reading and holding Cody to just holding Cody.
For a few moments, Rex pauses in the doorframe and simply takes in the sight. Outside, the sun has all but dipped beyond the horizon, sending out a final haze of light that is refracted by the glass prisms Obi-Wan hung in front of the window when they first moved in. As they spin, they make little rainbows dance and slide over Obi-Wan and Cody’s still forms—over Cody’s slowly fading scars, over Obi-Wan’s fingers carding slowly through Cody’s hair, over their chests heaving and sinking in perfect sync. Maybe it’s just the drone of traffic outside, but Rex could swear that he can hear Cody purring faintly.
Rex steps into the room and very, very gently closes the door behind himself before he pads over to the bed. Obi-Wan is the first to open his eyes and smile at him, the corners of his mouth rising even higher when his eyes slide down Rex’s body and he takes in his clothes. The conspiratorial twinkle in his eyes tells Rex that he knows exactly what Rex is trying to do here.
Rex grins back. He’s slipped out of his shirt-and-pants combo and into something more comfortable. Something far more comfortable, something that’s the tiniest bit too big on him and happens to be decorated with Cody’s favorite sun pattern. Something that’s definitely not his to wear.
He sets a knee onto the edge of the mattress, and Obi-Wan reaches out a hand to help steady him as Rex climbs over Cody and settles on Obi-Wan’s other side on his back.
He’s barely made himself comfortable when Cody lazily cracks an eye open. It meets Rex’s gaze before it starts tracking down his body…
“What the—” Cody sits up so fast Obi-Wan has to snatch his head back before Cody can give him a concussion. Both of Cody’s eyes are wide open, now—wide open, and dark and dangerous.
For a heartbeat, as fear crystalizes in his very core, Rex is reminded of a time when Cody used to be so much scarier, courtesy of being a Big Bad Commander who’d eat insubordinate little Captains for breakfast.
Now, however, with the war long over, their military ranks are null and void—and Rex has gained a Jedi who comes in handy when used as a buffer against Cody’s revenge.
“Those are my shorts,” Cody growls, a split second before he lunges. Rex braces for impact, squeezing his eyes shut—
—and nothing happens.
He looks up to find Cody hanging suspended in mid-air, flailing as he snarls. There’s a tired expression on Obi-Wan’s face as he gently floats Cody back down onto the bed and locks him against his chest in yet another stranglehold.
“What’s it to you,” Rex drawls more than asks—and ducks for cover behind Obi-Wan when Cody lets rip a very imaginative string of expletives.
It breaks off promptly when Obi-Wan not-quite shouts, “Oh, please, peace! You two are worse than a pair of brawling tookas.”
For a heartbeat, all Rex can hear is Cody’s heavy breathing and his own pulse hammering in his ears. Then, there’s the wet noise of parting lips as Cody opens his mouth to answer.
Rex gets the drop of him. “He started it,” he grunts and cuddles up to the vacant side of Obi-Wan’s body, glaring at Cody across the blue and white expanse of the grinning tooka face on the front of Obi-Wan’s sweater. “He nicked my matching shorts.”
“And I’m sure he’s very sorry about that. Aren’t you sorry, Cody, my love?” Obi-Wan doesn’t appear to be impressed by the faint growl this elicits from Cody and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. Then, he turns back to Rex and continues, “And you went and stole his shorts, so I guess that makes you even. They look very good on you, by the way. You both possess very lovely bottoms. Now, will you please let me rest my eyes for a moment?”
After a brief bout of reluctant silence, Cody is the first to speak. “Truce,” he grumbles against Obi-Wan’s chest, eyes barely meeting Rex’s.
“Truce,” Rex agrees without going to the lengths of making himself sound easily audible, either.
Obi-Wan’s head falls back against the pillows with a faint whump and a muttered, “Fantastic.” The arm he has around Rex’s shoulder flexes a few times, and then he’s turning over, pulling Rex into a loose embrace and resting his chin against Rex’s forehead.
Hardly a minute later, Cody makes the mattress dip under the three of them when he cuddles up to Obi-Wan’s back, giving a series of soft, content noises before he, too, quiets back down.
Rex waits until Obi-Wan’s breathing has evened out significantly before he threads his arm under Obi-Wan’s. His searching hand is quick to meet a warm, sun-tanned, calloused palm, and then Cody’s fingers are threading through his and holding on tight, squeezing in time with the thrum of their heartbeats.
Rex smiles despite Obi-Wan’s beard tickling his face. This isn’t peace, only a truce. Cody hasn’t heard the last of this—not by far. Even if Rex has to go through Cody’s entire underwear drawer, it will be a battle worth fighting. But for now, all is sun and warmth and steady quiet breaths, and even Rex has to admit—a pair of baggy shorts is a small price to pay for it.