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Cody had known as soon as his riduur was back in bed that the man was touch-starved.
It’d been some time, but it still wasn’t better. The 212th was trying to help. They’d touch his shoulder, clap him on the back, bump against him, anything and everything they could do. There was a difference between skin-to-skin contact and contact with armor in the way, though, and not even the occasional brush of one of his men could offput the pain he’d lived through with Bane and the other bounty hunters. And the prison…kriff, Cody did not envy him.
Obi-Wan had offered his apologies—many of them, any time he believed himself to do something wrong. There was nothing to forgive, though. Obi-Wan had a duty to the Jedi, to the Republic, just as Cody had a duty to his men. If anything, Obi-Wan had gone beyond what had been asked of him. He had risked his own life, his relationships, everything that he held dear, to do what the Council asked of him for a man he did not like. So, no, there was nothing for Cody to forgive.
Actually…there was nothing Cody needed to forgive Obi-Wan for.
The guilt lay with others. The Council, for sending him away. The Senate, for denying the clones their rights so that Cody could not attend his own riduur’s funeral, fake as it was. The Chancellor, for allowing General Skywalker and Commander Tano to be sent after Obi-Wan. They could have killed him. Bane or Eval could have killed people Obi-Wan cared about, or Obi-Wan himself. Even Skywalker himself needed to apologize. He had been cruel to Obi-Wan, with his words if not his actions. It was clear from the lack of comms, the lack of calls, all of it. There was nothing coming in or going out. His riduur had chosen to say nothing. Hadn’t disparaged Anakin, hadn’t defended himself…
It had been two weeks.
At this point, Cody was tempted to go before the Council and demand restitution. He was biased. He knew he was—he’d never particularly liked General Skywalker, and this incident only made him like him less. General Skywalker was arrogant and impulsive, reckless. Everyone knew about his little love affair with Senator Amidala, and yet he was too oblivious to realize it and too oblivious to realize the Jedi didn’t outlaw romance or relationships. Maker knew General Mundi had five wives at least, and a number of daughters. The problem lay in attachments, and obsession, and selfishness.
Cody knew as well as his riduur did that, if it came down to it, they knew the cost of war. Understood it. One day, Cody could die in a battle. So could Obi-Wan. Either one of them could lose their lives at any moment, find themselves fatally wounded and unable to get help—or find the person they loved in that same state. But Obi-Wan wouldn’t risk a mission for Cody, nor would he ask Cody to risk a mission for him. They both had their duties.
And that was what this mission had been. Their duty. Skywalker hadn’t seen that, had ignored that. His focus had been on his own wants, his own needs. Cody didn’t want to think of any of the Jedi Falling, but if there was one who would—it was Skywalker.
Murmuring in his sleep, Obi-Wan shifted slightly.
Dropping his hand from Obi-Wan’s face to his riduur’s side, Cody ran his fingers over his skin. He could feel bumps rise in his wake. Touch still gentle, Cody smiled and slotted his fingers into the dips of Obi-Wan’s ribs. When he first returned, that same touch would have made Cody frown. Obi-Wan had lost weight, too much weight for Cody’s preference. There was only so much they could do for that in a short time, though.
Thus far, it had mostly involved treating Obi-Wan’s wounds and then getting him a bit more food on a daily basis. After Zygerria, especially…Cody hummed softly, watching as Obi-Wan tucked a hand under his head. His brows were furrowed even in sleep. Cody reached up, drew his fingers over Obi-Wan’s forehead to smooth them out. He exhaled softly, relaxed. That was good.
That was what Cody wanted from his riduur.
For him to relax, to settle. Maker knew Obi-Wan needed that, and much more than the karking Senate or the Chancellor was willing to give him. Cody pulled the blankets up a bit higher, covering his riduur some more.
His riduur’s face had changed. There were lines where there didn’t used to be lines, gray hairs where coppery auburn once lay. New scars that crossed his back, thanks to Zygerria and not the Hardeen mission, but how much longer would his general be able to rest? How long until the Senate demanded his blood or sweat or tears again? How long until Obi-Wan was forced on a mission he couldn’t come back from?
Cody, by the way, was not counting the matter of Obi-Wan’s beard and hair. Both were rapidly growing back thanks to some Jedi osik. When he’d first returned, Boil had joked to Waxer that “Baldi-Wan can’t hurt us,” because Obi-Wan had been bald. At the time, Cody had just rolled his eyes and turned away.
Now, he brushed his bare fingers through Obi-Wan’s soft, fluffy hair. It wasn’t at its previous length. Still, it was long enough for him to tangle his fingers in—or, really, to properly card his fingers through. Cody wasn’t going to go yanking on it anytime soon.
His riduur’s breathing changed. Brow furrowing even more, he cracked his eyes open and blinked a few times. Slowly, he lifted his head, cheek squished against the pillows. Cody withdrew his hand from auburn hair. Instead, he settled his palm on Obi-Wan’s cheek, rubbing his thumb across the ridge of his cheekbone, gently.
“Cody,” Obi-Wan murmured. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at you,” Cody replied, softly. Eyes scanning Obi-Wan’s face, he added, “Is that a crime?”
Tilting his head, eyes half-lidded, Obi-Wan pressed a kiss to Cody’s palm. Their fingers tangled together. Slowly, Obi-Wan began to press more kisses to Cody’s fingertips, gentle. “If it were, I’d have committed it a thousand times.”
“Flattery doesn’t work on me,” Cody teased, rubbing his thumb over Obi-Wan’s cheek again. “I’m already too far gone.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Obi-Wan said. Taking a deep breath, he held Cody’s hand a bit tighter. “Did you sleep well, my dear? It’s rather late in the morning.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.” They had shore leave for some time. It didn’t matter if they weren’t awake for any prior engagements—Cody had asked Rex to run interference for him, and Ahsoka to run interference for Obi-Wan. Anyone who thought they had the right to his riduur’s time would have to face him. And his kriffing teeth.
(Fox was a biter—and he taught Cody well.)
“I appreciate that, my dear,” Obi-Wan started, “but we do have responsibilities.”
“You’re right, I’ve been neglecting some of them.” Gently, Cody pushed his lovely riduur onto his back. Blue eyes going wide, Obi-Wan looked up at him. His mouth fell open, lips parted slightly. Cody wanted to kiss him until his cheeks turned the same pink as his mouth. “Cyar’ika,” he murmured, bracing himself over Obi-Wan. He didn’t settle any weight on him. “Ni kar’ta. I’d change the galaxy for you.”
Obi-Wan looked up at him, so softly. He was gazing at Cody like he had hung the stars in the sky just for Obi-Wan, like he strung the galaxies into being and placed the solar systems in the heavens. Leaning in, Cody kissed him, felt hands land on his face. “My dear,” he whispered between kisses, when they broke apart briefly.
Cody felt his riduur’s hands wander over his body, down his sides like he’d been touching Obi-Wan before. All chaste, all above the tunic he wore to sleep. Pressing their foreheads together for another brief moment, Cody laughed as Obi-Wan’s hand settled at a scar on his side. He pressed one of his own hands over his riduur’s, supporting himself with a knee at Obi-Wan’s hip.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Force and Manda be willing, I won’t go anywhere. Not for a long time.”
Breathing in shakily, Obi-Wan replied, “I know, my dear. Force willing, I will not leave, either.”
“You better not,” Cody laughed, softly, “or I will come after you.”
Fingers curling in Cody’s hair, Obi-Wan pulled him in for another kiss and murmured, “I hope that you do.”