Actions

Work Header

My possibles are all packed up

Work Text:

“I can't believe you would do this to me,” Obi-Wan says, entirely aggrieved. His brow is doing the twitch it always does when he’s massively irritated with Anakin in particular. It makes it hard for Cody to hide his grin as he fills the kettle.

“Sorry, Obi-Wan!” Anakin says desperately, and to his credit he actually mostly sounds like he means it, even over the staticky comm. “We tried to get back, but the festival was bigger than we expected and the transports stopped running. And it’s snowing.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, droll. “Astonishing, given that you are currently attending the Festival of Snow. Who ever would have thought?”

Cody doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t, even if he desperately wants to. Of course, at this point he’s had plenty of practice not laughing when Obi-Wan gets a little extra dry, at Anakin particularly, and he turns to set the kettle on the stove with his face perfectly straight. By the window, looking out over a wide, snowy field, Obi-Wan shoots him a sideways look at that says he knows precisely what reaction Cody is hiding, but he doesn’t call him on it.

Yet.

“Yeah, well, it’s snowing hard,” Anakin says, and Cody's never been entirely sure whether he just doesn’t mind the sarcasm or if it really does fly right over his head the way Rex insists. Honestly, at this point Cody would believe either one. “Even if we started walking, I don’t think we’d make it back to the cabin before the blizzard buried us.”

“Please don’t try to walk back,” Obi-Wan says wearily. “We’re already rather thoroughly snowed in here, and I can't imagine the pass between us and the town is any better. Find a room at the inn and wait out the storm. I promise you, Cody and I aren’t going anywhere.”

“Master, my lekku are freezing off,” Ahsoka says, tinny beyond the comm’s immediate range. “And Rex is turning blue. Can we go?”

“I'm going, I'm going, Snips,” Anakin says. “Sorry, Obi-Wan. I know you wanted to spend the holiday together.”

“The holiday runs until the solstice,” Obi-Wan reminds him. “There will still be plenty of holiday left to celebrate once the storm has passed. Now get your padawan and your captain out of the cold before they start losing valuable bits to frostbite.”

Anakin makes a deeply offended noise. “What about me? I'm the one standing out here in the snow for the sake of letting my old Master know we’re not dead in the pass somewhere—”

“Judging by the sound of chattering teeth,” Obi-Wan says dryly, “you're all standing out in the snow. Thank you for letting us know that you didn’t try to hike the mountain in the dark and the blizzard, but please, Anakin. Go inside and get warm, and don’t worry about us. There's plenty to keep us fed and occupied until the storm breaks.”

“All right,” Anakin says, a little reluctantly. “This is about the only place on the whole mountain that I get a comm signal, but I’ll come back out to check for messages every hour if you—”

Anakin,” Obi-Wan says severely. “Go inside. Stay there. Cody and I are fine.

He ends the comm call decisively, then groans, slumping down onto the sofa with a weary sound and rubbing his hands over his face. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Cody watches him, amused. Folding his arms over his chest, he props his shoulder against the doorframe, and says, “I’ll be honest, I expected them to be halfway up the mountain on foot by now.”

“Yes, well, this is supposedly a season of miracles,” Obi-Wan says, muffled by his palms. “I am astonished that they didn’t manage to run into a Separatist cell operating out of the gift shop.”

Cody winces faintly, because if any three could, it would be Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex. “Well, now that you’ve said it…”

Obi-Wan snorts. “I was promised by three separate people that there was no Separatist activity even suspected on this planet,” he says, “and if Quinlan was wrong, he has to dress up in a gown of Senator Amidala’s choice for a week.”

Cody bites back a grin, considering this carefully. “I feel like Senator Amidala was a merciful choice,” he says at length. “She’ll pick one he actually looks good in.”

“Quinlan looks good in practically everything,” Obi-Wan says, dismissing that with a wave of his hand. “The only other available option to choose was Master Tholme, and he would have been merciless.”

A little surprised, Cody raises a brow. “Not General Secura?” he asks curiously.

Obi-Wan gives him a pained look. “Aayla is entirely Quinlan’s padawan, to my everlasting regret. I've seen her wear a dress once in her life, and it was a traumatic event for all involved. She also managed to pick up Quinlan’s distinct lack of fashion sense, over the years.”

“The sleeve thing,” Cody says, with an air of enlightenment. And…it makes sense, given Quinlan’s everything.

At least Bly looks good in white—he can wear the gown at their wedding and no one will argue.

Obi-Wan sighs, aggrieved, though he can't quite hide the amusement pulling at his mouth. “The single sleeve,” he agrees. “I live in fear of the day when one sleeve becomes no sleeve. It’s fast approaching, I'm certain.”

Cody chuckles, but before he can answer, the kettle whistles, and he turns to pull it off the heat. “I guess I don’t need to make tea for the others,” he says instead, and eyes the three extra cups he set up with something like regret. Not that they won't get drunk eventually, since Obi-Wan drinks as much tea as any four regular people combined, in Cody's experience.

There's a rustle and then quiet steps, and a moment later Obi-Wan leans into the kitchen, coppery hair catching the light. “Likely not, given the pace of that snowfall,” he says, dry. “If Anakin and the others make it back before the end of the week I’ll be astonished.”

The steady heat of awareness curves over Cody's skin, settles along his spine as he watches Obi-Wan. That means a solid handful of days by themselves, with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Cody can't think of a time they’ve ever had that before, and from the rueful curve of Obi-Wan’s smile, he’s thinking the same thing.

“Makes for a quiet vacation,” he says, and it’s even, steady, though it feels like it should be rough in his throat as he meets Obi-Wan’s blue-green eyes.

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan says, droll, but there's a deep sort of warmth on his face. He watches Cody pour the water for their tea, then stir in honey, and Cody sets the kettle aside with a thump that seems too loud in the still air.

“We should move to the heater,” he says, for lack of anything better. “Temperature’s dropping.”

“The house will stay warm enough. The people here are used to building in the mountains.” Obi-Wan takes the mug that Cody offers, but he turns his hand, catching Cody's fingers before he can withdraw. Cody stops, a little startled, because they’ve been keep a careful distance all day, too aware of each other, too close with Ahsoka and Anakin and Rex around, but—

Obi-Wan’s fingers are long and deft and warm, callused where they slide across Cody's skin, curl over his knuckles. It’s a touch that makes Cody's breath catch, and even when they allow themselves on the ship, or during a campaign, such things are usually muted by gauntlets and gloves, cloth and armor, but—not now. Obi-Wan is watching his face, and he slides his hand over Cody's, wraps long fingers around his wrist.

When Cody glances up, Obi-Wan smiles at him, and it settles hot and simmering behind Cody's breastbone.

“Come sit by the heater with me, Cody,” Obi-Wan says softly, and Cody turns his hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently.

“You just want a bookrest,” he says, though he doesn’t mean a word of it, and Obi-Wan chuckles, stepping closer until they're right up against each other.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he says. “You make a lovely personal heated blanket as well.”

Cody snorts, but reaches up, and the prickle of Obi-Wan’s beard against his fingers is incredibly familiar at this point, makes him smile automatically. Obi-Wan’s hair is a little longer than normal, because he hasn’t been keeping it trimmed, and Cody brushes the longer strands back, letting his touch linger.

“If they're really going to be gone until the storm clears, that’s five days at least,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan’s mouth curves. “I'm not sure I expect to get all five days,” he says dryly. “Given Anakin's stubbornness and inability to bow to greater forces, even the weather. But we should have a few to ourselves. Three, maybe.”

Three lazy days in a cabin on a snowy mountain might as well be eternity, compared to furtive meetings aboard the Negotiator, tumbling exhausted into shared bunks only to have one of them be called away before the other wakes. They’ve been trying, and the stolen seconds are always sweet, but—

Days together with nowhere to go and not a single demand on their attention. Cody's not even sure what to do with that much time, honestly.

He leans in, not able to help himself, and the hand in Obi-Wan’s hair curls, pulls him in just a little. Obi-Wan closes the rest of the gap, dropping his hand in favor of curling fingers over his hip. A thumb slides up under the hem of Cody's shirt, brushes skin, and it’s such a small touch to feel so winding, so vast. Cody hums, pleased, and Obi-Wan kisses him, scratchy beard and soft mouth and tightening fingers. It’s slower than Cody can ever remember a kiss being, more deliberate, and he wants to sink into it, to stay right here forever with Obi-Wan’s mouth slanting over his.

Obi-Wan strokes his side, presses fingertips into Cody's skin until those five points of heat are all Cody can focus on, and lifts his head. His eyes have gone dark, his mouth red, and Cody can feel the prickle of beard-burn across his own mouth, hypersensitive and hot.

“I think,” Obi-Wan says, a little roughly, “that we should go and sit down.”

“Probably,” Cody agrees, and reaches out, catching Obi-Wan’s hand where he’s still holding his tea as it tips precariously. The hand hooked around his back pulls him forward, out into the main room where the heater is humming faintly, and Cody chuckles but lets himself be guided.

“Now I'm extra glad we decided to skip the festival,” he says, amused, and gives Obi-Wan a gentle push even as he plucks the cup from his hand. With a sound of offended surprise that’s at least half for show, Obi-Wan thumps down on the couch, sinking into the cushions, and Cody sets his tea on the side table, then gets a knee on the cushions and drops into his lap.

“Even the traditional gift exchange?” Obi-Wan asks, but his voice is low and a little dark, a little hot as his hands slide up Cody's back, dragging his shirt with them.

Cody strips it off obligingly, shivers when Obi-Wan’s hands press flat to skin and stroke down his back. “Well,” he says, as evenly as possible, “I could find a bow somewhere, probably, if you're really devoted to the idea.”

Obi-Wan’s chuckle is soft, and he loops an arm around Cody's back, leans forward to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his chest. Cody can't help the way his breath catches at the prickle of his beard, the heat of his mouth, and he cups the back of Obi-Wan’s head, stroking his hair carefully. That mouth drags across his chest, kisses his clavicle, his sternum, right over his heart, and Cody can't quite breathe in a way that’s only tangentially related to the rising heat in his belly.

“Obi-Wan,” he says softly, and Obi-Wan hums, twists. Cody lands on his back on the cushions, and Obi-Wan leans over him, smiling. Cody could keep looking at that smile for the rest of his life and still find new things to love about it every time.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan returns, mild, and Cody snorts and pulls him down into another kiss, still slow, still lazy in a way that feels like the greatest indulgence. Obi-Wan’s elbows settle on either side of his head, and Cody hooks a leg over his thigh, trying to get him one centimeter closer when Obi-Wan’s full weight already rests on him.

“If we’re exchanging gifts,” Obi-Wan says, winded, and kisses Cody again, light and almost teasing, “I have to admit that Anakin has your gift. One reason for my exasperation with him.”

Cody laughs, leaning up to steal another, deeper kiss. “What if I told you Rex has mine?” he asks, and Obi-Wan chuckles against his mouth, turns his head to kiss Cody's cheek, his jaw, the curve of his throat. Cody tips his head to let him, getting his hands on skin beneath the softness of Obi-Wan’s sweater.

“I feel as if we both underestimated the potential for disaster when those three are involved,” Obi-Wan says, and the press of his knee sliding higher between Cody's thighs is interesting. They haven’t managed this before, either—even a bed would be a novelty, but slow, sweet sex in the middle of the day is an impossible luxury. It’s good, too, and Cody strokes Obi-Wan’s back, tilts his head to deepen the next linger kiss, and smiles as they pull apart.

“The time alone can be their gift to us,” he suggests, amused, and Obi-Wan laughs, one hand smoothing over Cody's chest in long, teasing strokes that make Cody want to squirm.

“Certainly a far more useful gift than Anakin usually manages,” he says dryly, though the words are fond. He stares down at Cody for a long moment, and Cody looks back, a little breathless with this. With everything, and especially the warmth in Obi-Wan’s eyes, a whole world that’s centered right on Cody.

Careful, almost tentative, Cody reaches up, brushes bright hair back. Obi-Wan leans into his touch, and Cody cups the curve of his cheek, only to have Obi-Wan turn his head and kiss his palm. It makes Cody's breath hitch, and he hooks a hand around the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, pulls him down and wraps his arms around him. Grips, tight, and there isn't even a moment’s hesitation before Obi-Wan wraps his arms around him in turn, cradling the back of Cody's head and settling fully on top of him. His sigh is warm, peaceable, and Cody presses their temples together, closes his eyes.

It’s a good weight, Cody thinks. It’s the best weight right now. He can feel Obi-Wan’s heartbeat, each breath, and in the perfect silence of a world full of snow, it sounds like the only thing that matters.

“We’ll have to get them something nice in return,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan snorts, turns his head just enough to kiss Cody's cheek. From this close, all Cody can see is copper hair, all he can feel is Obi-Wan, and he has days of this, of indulging in just this way.

“We will,” he agrees, and kisses Cody again.