Work Text:
The bioluminescence of the cave where Resistance HQ was in flickered softly, casting long, dancing shadows against the metallic walls. So’lek stood by the weapon rack, his fingers tracing the fletching of a lingering arrow, though his focus was entirely on the entrance.
When Tamtey finally strolled in, laughing at a lingering thought, the air in So’lek’s lungs sharpened. She looked content—far too content for someone who had spent the last two hours away from him.
So’lek didn't look up as she approached, but his voice carried that low, rhythmic gravel that usually commanded a room.
"You are back late," he remarked, his tone clipped. "The moon is high. Where have you been?"
Tamtey tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes bright. "Oh! I was just at the upper falls. I had dinner with Okul. They found some rare mud-beets and wanted to try a new roasting technique. They are actually quite the cook."
The sound that left So’lek was a sharp, redirected breath—a huff that vibrated in his chest. He finally looked at her, his golden eyes narrowed slightly.
"You and Okul...had dinner?" he asked, the words sounding stiff.
Tamtey blinked, confused by the sudden intensity. "Well, yea, but we were talking about some new medici—"
"Why did you eat without me?" So’lek interrupted. He stepped away from the rack, crossing his arms. It wasn't a shout; it was worse. It was a quiet, pointed demand.
Tamtey felt the heat rise to her cheeks. To her, So’lek was a constant. Like the sky or the roots of the Home Tree, he was simply there.
"So’lek, I didn't think...I mean, we are always together," she stammered, gesturing between them. Still in his same position he repeated "You ate without me. We always eat together"
Not really understanding the big deal Tamtey replied. "I just thought because we are always side-by-side during the day, we just happened to eat at the same time. I didn't realize it was...a 'thing'."
She took a step closer, trying to read the rigid line of his shoulders. "I'm sorry. Look, I’m actually still a bit hungry. I could eat a little more with you? We could go see what’s left in the cookpot."
So’lek stiffened. The offer, meant to be a bridge, felt like an afterthought to him. He didn't want a full stomach; he wanted the ritual. He wanted the quiet space between the chaos where it was only the two of them.
"No," he said, his voice turning cold as stone. "It is not the same. I shall enjoy my dinner alone"
Without another word, he turned on his heel. His stride was long and purposeful, his hair flowing slightly as he vanished into the darker corridors of the cave.
Tamtey stood frozen in the middle of the walkway, her hand still half-extended as if to grab his sleeve. The sounds of the base—the hum of generators and the distant chatter of humans—swirled around her, but all she could focus on was the sudden, freezing void where So’lek had just been standing.
"Not the same?" she whispered to the empty air.
She was left with a full stomach and a heavy heart, wondering exactly when a simple meal had become a declaration of loyalty—and how she had managed to break a rule she didn't even know existed.
The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a hunting knife, well mainly from his side. Tamtey found So’lek later out on the landing platform, staring into the fog of the Clouded Forest. She held a bowl of steamed succulent fruits and smoked meat—his favorite—and nudged his shoulder with the edge of the dish.
"So’lek," she started softly. "I brought you this. Please, eat with me."
He didn't turn. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "If you find the company of the Kame'tire so stimulating," he said, his voice dripping with a rare, bitter sarcasm, "perhaps you should go find Okul. I am sure he has more 'roasting techniques' to discuss."
Tamtey rolled her eyes, a frustrated huff escaping her lips, he sounded so dramatic to her. It was just food between friends. "Oh, stop it. It’s not like that and you know it. Okul’s a friend, So’lek. But I want to eat with you."
So’lek remained silent for a long moment before finally giving a curt, stiff nod. He sat down on a nearby crate, his movements feline and precise. Tamtey sat cross-legged opposite him, placing the bowl between them.
He began to eat his portion in silence, the only sound being the distant cry of a banshee. But as he worked through the meal, he noticed something: Tamtey’s hands were resting in her lap. Her bowl sat untouched.
He stopped chewing, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. "You are not eating."
"I'm just... enjoying the view," she lied poorly, offering a weak smile.
So’lek put his skewer down. "Tamtey. Eat."
"I'm fine, really."
"You said you were hungry earlier," he pressed, his voice lowering into that authoritative rumble. "Why are you sitting there like a statue? Eat your share."
Tamtey shifted uncomfortably, picking at a loose thread on her wrap. "Okay, fine! I’m not actually hungry. Okul... he gave me a very large portion of those mud-beets right before I saw you. I’m stuffed."
So’lek’s jaw tightened. The jealousy he had been trying to suppress flared back up, hot and sharp.
"But I still wanted to be here!" she added quickly, seeing his expression darken. "I just wanted to spend the time with you. I wanted to enjoy the evening together, even if I’m not chewing."
So'lek stood up abruptly, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. He made no sound as he rose, but the air around him felt frigid. He let out a sharp, dismissive huff.
"I am not a performance for you to observe," he snapped, his pride clearly wounded. "I do not want you to sit there and watch me eat like a starving child while you are full from another person’s fire."
"So'lek, wait—" she tried to reach up.
"No," he said, turning away. "Stay here with your full stomach. I will finish my meal alone."
He disappeared back into the shadows of the Resistance hub, leaving Tamtey once again sitting in the dark, wondering how a simple dinner had turned into a battlefield.
Tamtey wasn’t going to let him retreat into his shell of wounded pride. She spent the next afternoon on a grueling hunt, bringing back the finest lean cuts of meat and foraging for crisp forest greens that hadn't been touched by Okul’s experimental roasting.
She set everything up in a quiet corner of the upper balcony, far from the bustle of the main hub. They had a perfect view of the ikrans and the misty forest. When she found So’lek this time, she didn't ask—she commanded.
"So’lek. Sit," she said, her voice firm. "I have not eaten a single bite since sunrise. I am starving, I have prepared a meal for us, and I am not moving until this bowl is empty. Together."
He looked at her, searching for any sign of a lie. Seeing the genuine exhaustion from her hunt and the stubborn set of her jaw, his shoulders finally dropped an inch. He sat.
For the first few minutes, the only sound was the clatter of wooden utensils. So’lek watched her out of the corner of his eye, his movements slow and cautious. He waited for her to push the food around, to reveal she was still full—but she ate with a sincere hunger that finally began to soothe his jagged nerves.
"The meat is well-seared," So’lek remarked quietly, breaking the silence. It was his version of an olive branch.
Tamtey looked up, a bit of fruit in hand, and smiled. "I remembered you like it over the higher flame."
So’lek’s lips didn't quite form a smile, but the tension in his face vanished. He leaned back slightly, his posture losing its rigid, combat-ready edge. "It is...acceptable."
He began to talk—not about the war or the RDA, but about the flight patterns of the ikran he’d seen earlier. It was a small, mundane conversation, the kind that only happens when two people are truly comfortable.
As he spoke, his golden eyes remained fixed on her. He watched the way she laughed at his dry wit and the way she reached for the same shared platter as him. Every time their fingers brushed, he didn't pull away.
He was finally satisfied. She wasn't just there to watch him; she was with him. The ritual had been restored.
"You should eat more of the greens," So’lek murmured, leaning in closer until his shoulder brushed hers. "You need your strength if you are going to hunt like that every day."
Tamtey leaned into his warmth, feeling the last of the frost between them melt away. "Only if you promise to be the one to cook tomorrow. But after that you have to go hunting I'm sore."
So’lek let out a final huff—but this one was soft, almost a laugh. "We shall see, Tamtey. We shall see."
The chaos of the Resistance, the metallic hum of the base, and the lingering sting of their argument all seemed to dissolve into the cool night air. They sat on the edge of the moss-covered stone, their legs dangling over the expanse of the shimmering forest below.
So’lek didn't speak, and for once, Tamtey didn't feel the need to fill the void with words. The acceptable meal was finished, but neither made a move to leave.
The sky above was a tapestry of deep purples and glowing teals, the moons of Pandora casting a soft, ethereal light over their skin. Slowly, almost tentatively, So’lek rested his hand on the stone between them.
Tamtey shifted her hand closer. She didn't grab his hand, and he didn't wrap his fingers around hers. Instead, their hands lay side-by-side, palm down. Her pinky finger brushed against his, a light, feather-soft contact that sent a spark through the quiet.
So’lek moved his hand just a fraction of an inch, his long, calloused fingertips beginning to trace the edge of hers. It was a slow, rhythmic dance—a gentle grazing of skin against skin. He traced the lines of her knuckles, and she responded by curling her fingertips against his, a silent "I am here" in the language of touch.
To any observer, it was a small gesture, but to So’lek, it was everything. This was the sanctuary he guarded so fiercely. It wasn't just about the food; it was about this specific, quiet gravity that pulled them toward one another when the rest of the world stopped demanding their blood and sweat.
He felt the tension finally drain from his neck. The sight of her eating with Okul had felt like a thread being pulled from a tapestry, but this—the warmth of her hand, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the way her fingertips played back against his—repaired the weave.
They sat like that for a long time, watching the woodsprites drift on the updrafts. No grand declarations were needed. For So'lek, the feeling of her skin against his was the only assurance he required. He was a warrior of few words, and in the soft play of their fingers, he found a peace that no victory in battle could ever provide.
For now, this was enough. They were together, and the world was quiet.