Chapter Text
Bo-Katan Kryze quickly surveyed the bustling pub she’d just entered. A few blocks down from one of the larger spaceports in the posh Corellia exhibition sector, the crowd was a mix of travelers in town for the Corellian Engineering Corporation Expo, as well as residents stopping in for a drink and bite to eat upon landing or before heading out. The tables were mostly full of humans, but with a Sullustian here and a Mon Cal there, and a couple of of Twi’leks charming patrons.
Her eyes landed on a man with a familiar short cut of ginger hair, and she smiled. He sat with his broad-shouldered, jacket-clad back facing the door, nursing a dark drink.
As she moved toward him, she cast another glance around the pub. She didn’t notice any particular Imperial presence. She did, however, note the mirror behind the bar. In the reflection, she caught the unwavering blue gaze of the man she was approaching and took a deep breath.
As if Fenn Rau would have left his back unguarded toward the door.
She sauntered up next to him, leaning in slightly. “You come here often?” she asked, her voice low.
In profile, she saw him smile and cast a downward, sideways glance at her. “Not as often as I would like.”
Stars, it was good to see him. Hear him. Be so close to him.
She slid around the table and settled into the high chair across from him. “This taken?” she asked, after she’d seated herself.
“It is now,” he replied, watching her every move intently.
She finally got a proper look at him, freckles, smirk, blue eyes, and all. The table suddenly felt like a barrier she very much did not want between them.
“So what’s good here?” She reached across the table to tap his glass, fingers passing close enough to feel the warmth of his hand.
“The company, apparently.”
“Subtle,” she commented with a grin, knowing full-well she was one to talk. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t followed. You can’t even maintain the pretense that we’ve just met for more than two sentences?”
“Evidently not,” he answered, continuing to drink her in. “Hells, I’ve missed you. You look…” he paused, presumably searching for a suitably reverent word, settling on an expressive, “good.”
She followed through with her admiration of his handsome features and took in the rest of his appearance. The civilian clothes he wore to blend in, a nondescript notched-collar shirt and shatual leather jacket, were a rare style for him, and becoming. He looked confidently and attractively relaxed. However, she knew him well enough to recognize his tightly coiled emotions; he was enjoying their game, but any time she wanted to move things along, he was going to meet her with the full force of his desire.
Feeling favorably impressed, she caught his gaze and commented, “Likewise.”
Bo-Katan’s hand was still near his on the table. She uncurled her fingers and brushed them lightly against the back of his hand. So often both gloved and armored, the touch of their skin was warm and electric.
“I suppose it would look suspect if we left without ordering anything,” he said after a moment, voice deeper than before.
“Don’t you think you might need your strength?” she countered.
She was rewarded with flushed cheeks and a wicked grin.
Deciding it probably best if she did not grab a fistfull of his shirt and have him right there in the bar, she continued, “besides, you know how cranky you are when you’re hungry.”
He shrugged, self-deprecating. “I’m always cranky.”
“Not always. ” she amended. She’d had cause to see him in some very good moods. His generally stoic nature was part of his charm.
He brushed his fingers past hers again, and her focus narrowed to his hands. Big. Strong. Skillful.
“I think they have takeaway,” he said.
“Well then,” replied Bo-Katan, invitation open. “Your hotel or my ship?”
“Your ship?” he needled. “This I’ve got to see.”
“Hey, she’s not top-of-the-line like the ones you come here to drool over, but she’s gotten me out of some tight scrapes. You be nice.”
“I know how to treat a lady.” His eyes locked with hers.
“I’m aware.”
After a moment, he took a deep breath and shifted to standing. He took a step toward her and the bar, leaning into her. “What shall I get you?”
She leaned back in her chair looking up at him, shrugging, appreciating his proximity. “Surprise me.”
She watched over her shoulder as he walked away, admiring the fit of his trousers. His gait seemed a little bit stiff, but she couldn’t be sure if an injury was bothering him, he’d been waiting around for her a while, or if it was… something else.
She smiled to herself and righted in her seat, helping herself to a swig of his drink. Ne’tra gal. She pulled a face. It was no narcolethe, but sometimes you get what they carry off-world.
She mused that Fenn Rau was not great at being anything other than Mandalorian, though, honestly, she’d have it no other way. His accent would peg him as non-Corellian, and while the drink and the hairstyle certainly weren’t exclusive, it didn’t help. He carried himself like a warrior.
Of course, there was certainly nothing that said a Protector on leave couldn’t meet someone and enjoy their company. It was, however, concerning if the leader of the Protectors was meeting Mandalore’s deposed regent. It was a good thing most Imperials had a datapad full of daily regulations to keep track of, and one anonymous redhead among millions, especially on a busy planet like Corellia, probably wasn’t going to make much of an impression. At least not one so casual; if she was sneaking around and doing the usual things she oughtn’t, possibly. Picking up a handsome man in a pub? Mundane.
Thrilling as the pent-up energies for their meetings were, she wished their rendezvous could be more frequent, assuming she was still living as an outlaw. She’d take as much time with him as she could. As much as she thoroughly delighted in his touch, and was very much looking forward to rekindling that relationship, she also enjoyed his company and his counsel, his wit, and his fierce loyalty.
That loyalty, both a blessing and a curse. She respected his commitment to his responsibilities, even if supporting his fellow Protectors and keeping new outside threats from Mandalore meant begrudgingly overlooking the traitorous puppet on the throne. He had his battles, she had hers. It would just be glorious to fight side-by-side.
She glanced back over her shoulder to see how things were coming along. She saw he was leaning with an elbow on the bar, long legs stretched out, gazing at her. She threw him a smile, and they got rather so caught up in each others’ attentions that the barman needed to tap him to deliver the bag with their order.
Bo-Katan turned back and downed what remained of his drink. She then felt Fenn Rau’s his hand lightly touch her back, and a lingering warm sensation followed the drink down. Time to go.
The short walk back to the spaceport passed in a bit of a blur. The stormtroopers on guard paid them no particular attention, and the pair passed without incident. When they reached Bo-Katan’s ship, he gave it a passing inspection as she lowered the ramp and nodded with approval.
Their hands brushed as they walked up the ramp together, and she turned to the panel to close it. She counted the heartbeats as it closed and heard him take a few steps around the room and set down their bag of food.
The moment the ramp hissed shut, Bo-Katan turned and found herself engulfed, his arms tight around her and his body pressing her back against the bulkhead. He stilled for a handful of breaths, forehead against hers, and she appreciated the moment. She briefly considered words, how pleased she was to see him, how much she wanted him, an expression of feelings, a smart remark, anything. But she clung to him, and pressed her hands and hips against him, and found she had nothing new to say.
Then he captured her lips with his own and all coherence fled.