Work Text:
“You two are to behave yourselves,” Admiral Ar’alani said sternly, her glowing gaze burning into Thrawn’s. “You will comport yourselves with the behavior expected of senior military officials. You will not leave early or stand in a corner talking amongst yourselves for the duration of the gala. And you will most certainly not accidentally insult a powerful member of the Syndicure.”
Thrawn furrowed his brow. “Have I been known to insult politicians?” he asked, entirely genuine. He was sure that he was not.
Ar’alani glared at him incredulously. Eli, directly to his right, sighed audibly. “We’ll behave, ma’am,” he said, voice carefully neutral, masking an undercurrent of exhaustion. It had been a trying week for all of them.
Ar’alani smoothed back her already impeccably styled hair and clasped her hands behind her back, projecting her trademark air of confidence and competence. Thrawn learned the act from her, many decades ago. She turned to face Eli, directing her words now to him instead of the both of them. “Make sure he mingles. I need the Aristocra and Council to see that my first and second officers are as capable and in control as ever,” she paused, a single furrow appearing between her dark brows, “and certainly not running off on unsanctioned foolhardy rescue missions.”
“But we—” Thrawn started to argue that their mission was, after all, a success, when Eli stopped him with a hand to his forearm.
“We’ll mingle,” he promised her, “and we won’t bring up the—” he cut off, words interrupted by a wet-sounding sneeze, loud in the small room the three of them were holed up in.
Thrawn grabbed a tissue from the package resting on the sideboard next to him, handing it to Eli, who took it with a nod of thanks.
“And don’t do that either,” Ar’alani said, a frown on her face.
Eli balled up the used tissue and tossed it in the trash can before turning back to their commanding officer. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”
For one moment, Ar’alani stood in place, surveying the two of them, before reaching out and tugging on Thrawn’s honor chains until they sat how she wanted them to. She nodded, letting out a small grunt of approval, before turning and making her way out the door. “Do not dally,” she ordered, disappearing before either of them had time to argue.
Not that Thrawn would argue. He had almost four decades of military service under his belt; he was hardly a fumbling ensign. Ar’alani had no reason to worry as she did.
“Does she truly think we’ll cause a disruption that warrants such a stern lecture?”
Eli turned to him, a questioning look on his face, before his eyes brightened and he burst into surprised laughter. Something in Thrawn’s chest fluttered at the sound. Perhaps he needed to visit the med center. He didn’t have the heart of a twenty-year-old anymore.
Eli shook his head, brushing off his amusement. “Come on, let’s just get this night over with, and then we can enjoy our generous three days of shore leave,” he said, his voice turning mocking and sarcastic near the end. Thrawn could relate to the frustration. Three days was a pittance after the mission they completed, though he supposed he should be grateful for shore leave instead of a court-martial.
“Indeed,” he said, voice laced with mirth. “The Csaplar Museum has a new exhibit I should very much like to see before we re-embark.”
Eli hummed. “The exhibit on ancient Sarvchian funeral shrouds? I saw an ad for it on the tube car. When were you thinking?”
Thrawn tilted his head, studying Eli. “You do not need to accompany me,” he said, voice quiet. “I know that visiting museums would not be your choice of activity during a rare day of shore leave.”
Eli met his gaze, a soft smile creasing his face. “That’s not true. I like visiting museums with you.”
The fluttering feeling returned, and Thrawn made a commitment to visit the Steadfast’s med bay as soon as they were both back on the ship.
Eli straightened his shoulders, turning to face the door. “But we can discuss timing later. For now, I think the admiral would very much appreciate it if we made an appearance sooner rather than later.”
The Clarr syndic threw her head back and laughed, rings sparkling in the golden light as she braced her hand on Eli’s forearm. Eli smiled good-naturedly, and Thrawn tried very hard not to rip the woman’s hand off of the human, rankling at the invasion of personal space, despite not being the one whose space had been invaded. Such behavior would likely fall under what Ar’alani defined as misbehaving, and this syndic was an important political figurehead, even if she had no sense of decorum. The woman clinked her glass with Eli’s and slinked off, throwing one last lingering look towards Eli, the click of her towering heels audible even in the cacophonous echo of the great hall. Eli maintained his placid smile for several moments until the syndic was well and truly out of sight, before slumping and running a tired hand down his face.
Thrawn frowned. It was late, but not that late. “What was that about?” he asked, voice pitched low. Eli was no longer his aide, hadn’t been for some time, and yet Thrawn found that he still relied on him for, well, most things political. He wasn’t so dense as to be unaware of his shortcomings, and if the tool of Eli’s sharp observational mind existed, who was he to turn down a useful resource?
Eli grunted. “She was coming on to me. Quite obnoxiously, if I might add.”
Thrawn raised his brows. The lingering touches and her near total disinterest in Thrawn made sense now. “I’m sure you could get her room number from the usher if you are interested.”
Eli turned to Thrawn, an incredulous look on his face. “Are you serious?”
Thrawn shrugged and ignored the way the words tasted bitter in his mouth. “She’s a powerful politician, surely a worthwhile ally to have.”
Eli’s lip curled, and his facial heat increased, a look of hurt passing through his eyes, before he shook his head, turning away from Thrawn. “I need a drink,” he muttered darkly. “You want anything?”
“No, thank you,” Thrawn said, as Eli turned on his heel without another word, walking off towards the bar, leaving Thrawn wondering what he had said wrong.
Someone behind Thrawn grunted. “What did you say to piss him off?” Commodore Mak’ro asked brusquely, raising a glass of amber-colored liquor to his lips.
Thrawn frowned. “I doubt the senior captain is pissed off, as you say. It’s been quite a long and trying few days for us.”
Mak’ro snorted, eying Eli’s retreating figure for a moment before turning back to Thrawn. “So I’ve heard,” he said, humor still coloring his tone. “Is that why Ar’alani has the two of you parading around the gala like her prize yubals? Trying to get the politicians to forget that you and Ivant went off on an unsanctioned and dangerous mission to rescue several humans?”
“That is my understanding,” Thrawn said flatly. “The mission was a success and the children were returned to their families whole and hale, if that is at all relevant.”
Mak’ro shrugged. “I know that. But you’re hardly likely to sway the politicians with that explanation. They barely care about Chiss children as it is.”
Thrawn released a quiet breath, trying to vent his frustration. He can admit to having shared his people’s xenophobia at times in the past. Now, however, he was thoroughly rid of the tendency. Eli had been set on rescuing the children, standing orders or not, and Thrawn would not have let him go alone.
But he voiced none of this. A gala was not the place for this conversation, and Mak’ro likely would not be open to it. Instead, the commodore took another sip of his drink and gestured to a broad man in a dress uniform holding court by one of the cocktail tables, his numerous honor chains glinting in the light. “Have you paid tribute to Admiral Ers’ikaro yet?
Thrawn blew another silent breath out through his nose. “I have not.”
Mak’ro patted him on the shoulder. “Well, let’s get it over and done with then.”
The admiral saw them coming from several paces away, his eyes flashing with a bright red light that struck Thrawn as a warning. His cheeks were colored lightly in the infrared, likely due to his enthusiastic partaking in the open bar.
Ers’ikaro did not like Thrawn. He didn’t like anyone in the EDF, really, but he seemed to have a special dislike of Thrawn. And the feeling was mutual, though Thrawn did his best not to let on that he felt such a way. Even decades later, he remembered the satisfied look on Ers’ikaro’s face as he sentenced Thrawn to exile. It still stung, even though he knew the exile was in part his own plan.
“Ah, Commodore Mak’ro, Senior Captain Thrawn,” Admiral Ers’ikaro said in greeting. Several lower-ranking military officials desperate for his approval backed up to make room, disappointed at the admiral’s now divided attention. “Always good to see EDF members at these events. I know how hard it is to pull you off of your spaceships.”
Mak’ro laughed, and to Thrawn’s ears it sounded manufactured. “There are always enemies pushing at our borders,” he said pleasantly. Thrawn simply nodded in agreement. Anything to end this interaction sooner.
Ers’ikaro turned his eyes to Thrawn, and something mean entered his gaze, hidden behind a layer of politesse that Thrawn had never been able to truly manage. “I see Ar’alani has you on a short leash tonight,” he said, gesturing with his eyes to where the admiral stood several paces off, half of her attention on her conversation, and half on Thrawn. Ers’ikaro’s voice was pitched low, loud enough for only Thrawn and Mak’ro to hear, his words intended to embarrass and frustrate Thrawn, but not to cause a scene. Thrawn clasped his hands behind his back and said nothing. If Ers’ikaro had a point, he would make it, but Thrawn would not be feeding this conversation any more than he had to.
Ers’ikaro looked around the room, feigning concern. “But where is your shadow? Surely Senior Captain Ivant wouldn’t venture off by himself. You know how we Chiss are,” he said, false pleasantness leeching from every word.
Thrawn frowned. Eli had been gone longer than he expected.
Ers’karo’s searching gaze stopped, and his eyes flashed once more. “Ah, there he is. Perhaps he’s had too much to drink? A bit unseemly for a senior captain if you ask me.”
Both Mak’ro and Thrawn turned to follow Ers’ikaro’s line of sight, and Thrawn spotted Eli leaning against one of the far walls, his posture slumped and one hand pressed to his forehead. Mak’ro pursed his lips, displeasure evident—though he kept it veiled in front of Ers’ikaro.
Thrawn frowned. Eli hadn’t drunk anything alcoholic all night, not until he’d walked off, and even then, there hadn’t been time for more than one or two drinks, certainly not enough to inebriate him.
Thrawn found himself suddenly far less concerned with getting through this conversation unscathed. In fact, he was far less concerned with Ers’ikaro at all.
With no more than a muttered “excuse me,” Thrawn turned away, making a direct line to Eli, ignoring Mak’ro’s warning hiss and Ers’ikaro’s laughter.
The closer he got to Eli’s location, the more worrying details he noticed. Eli’s brown hair, though never quite neat, had become truly disheveled, and there were beads of sweat on his face. Though what concerned Thrawn the most was the bright infrared glow that surrounded him, enough that it could be seen even through his clothes. Far brighter than would be expected of drunkenness. Thrawn quickened his stride.
“Eli,” he said, placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder, “are you alright?”
Eli jerked, raising his head to meet Thrawn’s eyes, his gaze glassy and unfocused for several moments. “Huh? I’m fine,” he shook his head and swallowed, throat moving visibly. “I just needed a breather. We should get back in there, mingle more.”
His voice was noticeably hoarse, and Thrawn stopped him with a hand around his upper arm when Eli made to reenter the crowd. “You are ill.”
Eli frowned, turning a glare on Thrawn. “I am not.”
“Pardon,” Thrawn said, raising his hand to Eli’s forehead, feeling the heat radiating off of his skin, “but you are. Your temperature is very clearly elevated.”
Eli shook him off, eyes sweeping the room, visibly self-conscious, before he brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, pinching his eyes closed. He took several deep breaths. “I’m fine, it’s just a headache.” He opened his eyes and took another step towards the center of the room…
And stumbled, his balance completely thrown. Thrawn caught him, steadying him with a hand to his upper back before he could fall. “Perhaps we should visit one of the local clinics.”
Eli frowned. “No. I’m fine. Besides, they can’t treat humans anyway,” he grumbled.
Thrawn sighed. He was not fine, but he also knew how stubborn Eli was, and he had a point about the local healthcare centers lacking expertise in human physiology. This was not a fight he would be winning. “Perhaps,” he said, “but regardless, I believe our night has come to an end. Allow me to accompany you back to your room?”
Eli groaned, swaying slightly, and Thrawn increased the pressure of his hand against his upper back. He pursed his lips and gently began corralling Eli towards the exit. If this were any other time, he had no doubt that Eli would snap at him for such an action, but he was not well, and suggestions were no longer working. A gentle shove, however, would work.
Within moments, Thrawn had collected their coats and guided him outside into the frigid Csaplar air. Large flakes of snow drifted lazily down from the sky, and Eli began to shiver violently. Thrawn furrowed his brows in concern and slipped Eli’s coat over his shoulders, throwing his own much larger one on top for good measure.
“It’s only a five-minute walk,” Eli mumbled, though his voice shook with the intensity of his shivering.
Thrawn’s self-consciousness and his concern over violating Eli’s boundaries dwindled in the face of his worry for Eli’s health, and he wrapped an arm around Eli’s shoulders, tucking him into Thrawn’s side. Eli, in his sickness, leaned into him, muttering something inaudible under his breath.
Slowly, Thrawn guided them to the hotel where Ar’alani had secured them rooms. Eli was correct in that it was a short walk; however, his unstable gait prolonged the trip. By the time they made it to the lobby, his skin had turned a sickly shade of beige, a far cry from its usual healthy bronze, and his eyes were red and unfocused. He was no longer fighting Thrawn’s ministrations, and that worried him the most.
From the lobby, it was a quick ride up the lift to the floor that housed both of their rooms, conveniently located across the hall from each other. Thrawn skipped over his own room, grabbed the extra keycard Eli had handed him earlier out of his pocket, and swiped them into Eli’s room.
Eli immediately slumped over onto the small couch.
Thrawn frowned. That wouldn’t do.
Working quickly, he stripped Eli of his stiff dress uniform, leaving him in briefs and an undershirt. Eli let out a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and Thrawn huffed. “This would be far easier if you weren’t fighting me every step of the way,” he said, not expecting any kind of response.
“Welcome to my life,” Eli murmured, and Thrawn raised his brows. That was… something.
He pulled Eli up by his forearms and gently moved him towards the bed, where he would be far more comfortable. Eli seemed to agree, because he curled immediately into the blankets, his shivering abating somewhat.
Thrawn was relieved now that Eli was safely tucked away in bed, and he went searching for Eli’s bags. The first aid kit was exactly where it always was, packed next to Eli’s toiletries, organized to the man’s exacting standards. The human fever reducers were found easily after a moment of searching, right next to the Chiss fever reducers that Eli still carried for Thrawn, just in case, though he had no responsibility to do so anymore. For some reason, this fact tugged at Thrawn’s attention, but Eli needed him present and attentive now.
Thrawn returned to Eli’s bedside, two pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He placed the glass down and pulled back the blanket from where Eli had thrown it over his face, burrowing into the bedding like a bogling. “Take these,” he ordered, handing the pills to Eli and leaving no room for argument.
Eli groaned and blinked blearily at him, but complied easily enough. Thrawn was no longer his commanding officer, but Eli had years of experience following his orders. He swallowed the pills with a gulp of water and settled back into the blankets.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Thrawn straightened. Eli would be alright. He took the fever reducers, he was resting in bed. Surely he would begin to improve soon. Thrawn would retreat to the couch and get some work done while Eli slept off the fever. He turned to make his way there when a hand shot out from under the blankets, grabbing his wrist with startling alacrity for one so sick. “Stay,” Eli demanded, and Thrawn’s heart seemed to stop beating in his chest.
“I will not be far,” Thrawn said reassuringly. “I’ll be on the couch keeping an eye on you.”
The grip on his wrist tightened. “Stay with me,” Eli repeated, and shuffled over to make room on the bed, his meaning abundantly clear even without words.
Thrawn took a deep breath and held it for several moments. Eli was not in his right mind and would likely be embarrassed and offended if he woke up to Thrawn in his bed. But Eli was also sick and gripping his wrist like a vice, and Thrawn was having a hard time mounting the will to refuse him. Releasing his breath with a sigh, Thrawn nodded, feeling strangely unbalanced. He toed his shoes off and lay down gingerly, intending to leave plenty of room between him and Eli.
Eli had no such reservations.
Eyes closed, Eli rolled towards Thrawn, tucking himself into his side like he had during the walk to the hotel. He released a satisfied breath and pushed his face into Thrawn’s neck. Thrawn could feel the unnatural heat of his skin, could smell the warm scent of the gel he used to smooth his hair back. Eli made a small noise of contentment as Thrawn wrapped his arms around his shoulders, almost unconsciously, like they were meant to be there. His heart beat erratically, and Thrawn was forced to admit that perhaps he did not have a cardiac issue after all.
If Eli’s snoring was any indication, Thrawn had several hours to contemplate the revelation and decide what to do about it.
When Eli shifted in his arms, nuzzling closer in his sleep, Thrawn knew what conclusion he would inevitably come to.
Eli woke to the incessant buzzing of his questis and a painful throbbing in his head. He groaned. Not another concussion, he thought, already mentally preparing himself for the prodding of medics’ fingers and the beep of med bay machinery. But no—the bed he was in was too plush, and the room too quiet.
More pressingly, there was someone else in the bed with him.
He tensed up, trying to remember what happened last night, scared to turn around.
“I expect that is Ar’alani calling,” the person said, as Eli’s questis began to buzz again. “She’s already tried to reach me several times.”
Eli relaxed. It was just Thrawn. And then he tensed again. Why the hell was Thrawn in his bed?
He wracked his brain trying to remember the events of last night, still too scared to turn around. He remembered Thrawn suggesting he take Syndic Relimus up on her offer of companionship and stalking off to get a drink… and then things got fuzzy. The pounding in his head made itself known with a vengeance, and Eli winced. This didn’t feel like a hangover.
Eli finally rolled over, annoyed with himself for his cowardice, and found Thrawn lying primly next to him on the bed. He met Thrawn’s gaze. The glow of his eyes was dimmed, and they were heavy-lidded with exhaustion. There was an unmistakable look of concern on his face.
“Do you need more painkillers or fever reducers?” Thrawn asked, propping himself up on one elbow.
Eli groaned and rubbed his face, feeling like his head had been stuffed with cotton. “What the hell happened last night?” he asked.
Thrawn furrowed his brows, studying Eli with that overly intent gaze of his. “You took ill very suddenly at the gala last night. I brought you to your rooms to ensure you made it back safely.”
Eli frowned and squeezed his eyes shut, the picture suddenly coming clear like a pair of binocs focusing. Thrawn brought him to his room like a good friend, and Eli, his inhibitions weakened by the fever, had probably clung to him like a monkey-lizard. He was an idiot. A kriffing idiot. Two decades of friendship and self-control on Eli’s part, and he ruined it in one night thanks to a virus.
Cool fingers combed damp hair off of his forehead, and Eli’s eyes snapped open. Thrawn still looked concerned, though there was a softness in his eyes, one Eli hadn’t seen before. Eli opened his mouth to ask what Thrawn was thinking, scared of the answer, when something distracted him. “Why are you still wearing your dress uniform?”
Thrawn looked down, as if he had forgotten about the uniform, even though his honor chains had to be pressing uncomfortably into his skin. The tips of his ears tinged purple. “I did not want to presume or make you uncomfortable,” he said softly.
Eli scoffed, the motion grating his already sore throat. “I coerced you into bed with me, and you were worried about making me uncomfortable?” he asked, feeling an acute sense of self-loathing. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he be satisfied with their friendship?
“I hardly had to be coerced,” Thrawn said, his fingers returning to Eli’s hair, and Eli felt his thoughts ground to a halt.
“What are you saying?” Eli asked, finding it hard to think with the pounding in his head.
“I’m saying that I would not have been coerced into bed with you had I not wanted to be here.”
Eli furrowed his brows and met Thrawn’s eyes. His face was solemn but warm. No hint of mocking. “You’re serious?”
Thrawn studied him. “Have you ever known me not to be?”
Eli sighed, finally allowing himself to relax. They could deal with this in a few hours. They would deal with this in a few hours, but for now, Eli really just wanted to go back to sleep.
Thrawn must have sensed the change in Eli because he settled down as well, and after a few moments, he reached out, wrapping an arm around Eli’s shoulders, pulling him close.
Eli resisted his immediate urge to tense up and allowed himself to be tucked in against Thrawn’s chest. He exhaled, letting his head fall against Thrawn’s neck, and he felt more than heard a satisfied hum from deep in Thrawn’s throat.
Despite himself, despite the pain, despite his buzzing questis, despite that no doubt lengthy conversation they still needed to have, Eli smiled.
“Thrawn?” Eli asked, already feeling the pull of sleep.
“Yes, Eli?”
“Take off your damn honor chains.”