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One
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Hera turns her eyes, narrowed and flashing with anger, in her obnoxious crewmate’s direction. “I’ll have you know, pal, that I was doing this by myself for several months before you came along.”
Kanan gives that slight smirk and answers in that Forcedamned lazy drawl of his, “You were going undercover as a couple by yourself?”
There’s a slight twitch of tchin at her side and she purses her lips. No. As a matter of fact she had not gone undercover as a couple because she didn’t have a crew. “I’ve gone undercover as a typical Twi’lek stereotype a million times. I’m more than happy to leave you on the ship to leave your disgusting pheromones everywhere that’s not in your cabin.”
To her delight, his face flushes momentarily but then it fades just as quickly. “I’m not letting you go into Mos Eisley alone. You can do all that other questionable secret shit you do whenever you want. This place is dangerous.”
“Then quit questioning my plans!” she snaps at him and then recoils. Of course she feels bad when those oddly colored eyes of his get all wide and sad. Ass. “Look, do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you,” he says without hesitation.
“Then…let’s just get this done and get out of here, okay?” Hera sighs.
Thankfully, he drops it.
It isn’t until they’ve landed in the spaceport, she’s changed into something that leaves her feeling significantly more exposed, and everybody outside her berth is staring at her like a piece of meat that she realizes why Kanan was so insistent on joining her. She straightens her spine and subconsciously shifts her hip to feel the reassuring presence of her hold out blaster strapped high on her thigh.
A hand closing around hers causes her to start; the result is her left fist landing squarely in Kanan’s jaw.
Like that won’t draw a million more eyes in their direction.
“Hey,” he says, holding one hand up with the other hand to his jaw. “I told you I’m sorry that I didn’t recognize the new dress. You look beautiful. Besides, I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”
Oh.
The couple thing.
Right.
“Apology not accepted,” she says, every word dripping with venom; and not because she’s in character but because he was right. Hera is absolutely lost here. She doesn’t know what to do with the relationship thing or pretending to be a couple and nothing is more awkward than trying to pretend to be in a relationship with her barely-decent-looking-Human-possibly-a-Jedi crewmate who is obnoxious and always running his mouth.
They stiffly stand within a few centimeters of each other until the cargo bay door is sealed.
Kanan’s voice is low, only low enough that she can hear him. “I’m going to put my arms around you,” he utters. “I’ll resist grabbing your ass though.”
“I will kill you without hesitation,” she mutters.
“Not on this system and right now, we’re surrounded by a whole lot of people who’d like to see you in a collar and turn me over to the Empire,” he responds in that same low voice. One hand presses into the small of her back and the other strokes lightly over tchun.
That bastard can tell she’s pissed off because her lek won’t shut up. What the hells?
“Now,” he continues, “I’m going to lower my head until our faces are closer and you’re going to relax those lekku that you could literally stab a Nexu with right now.”
When he does that, Hera tries to ignore the short flutter in her heart with his face so close to hers. “Fine. Now what?”
A slight grin crosses his lips, “Now you’re going to look at me like you can actually stand me instead of like you want to kill me. Say something with a smile on your face. Not a fake one, a real smile.”
Hera has no clue what the hells she’s supposed to say when she wants to stab him and she’s simultaneously trying to keep her lekku relaxed. Then her eyes flit away from his because the intensity of his gaze is so strong that she can’t handle it. That’s when she notices the already dark discoloration along his jaw.
That makes her smile. “And that was only my left hand.”
Kanan laughs at that and draws her just a little closer. “Atta girl,” his voice is almost a rumble now. “Now, so these people are convinced and we can go about our business, you’re gonna kiss it and make it better. And don’t you dare think about tensing up again because they’re finally losing interest.”
A kiss? Nowhere in this plan did she account for a kiss. “I’m taking this out of your pay,” she mumbles before she rises up on the tips of her toes. Her lips brush lightly over the dark welt; it’s barely a kiss and more just a pass of her mouth against his stubbled skin.
Seriously, he has to be part wookie. She can’t imagine what he’d look like if he didn’t shave.
“You don’t have to pay me at all, sweetheart. That was worth the price of admission alone,” he grins before weaving their fingers together. “Now you’re going to stay relaxed just like that and occupy yourself with counting the number of times you’re going to punch me when we get back to the ship because I was right and therefore obviously deserve the harshest of punishments.”
For some reason, the words draw another smile to her lips and she glances over at him. “That’s one.”
Two
Hera strolls through the ridiculous Imperial Gala, the designated arm candy to some sort of officer or something for the evening. After the thing she slipped in his drink, he doesn’t really seem to pay her much notice which gives her freedom to move about the gala as she desires. Slowly, she walks through the gala, the deep scarlet synthsilk dress she wears cascades over her body and gives her the literal feeling of being wrapped in luxury.
What must it be like to live this kind of life all the time?
The shiny crap around her earcones makes her realize that she much prefers her flight gear.
Anxious to find her mark and get the hell out of this gala, she advances across the floor another five meters before she feels a gentle hand close around her wrist. That isn’t the touch of some handsy moron that wants his ass handed to him by a Twi’lek wearing four inch stiletto heels and a dress.
No, she’d know that touch anywhere.
Gently, she spins around to find herself facing Kanan. In the Imperial regalia of a man with money, she’s upgraded him from barely-decent-looking-Human-possibly-a-Jedi to halfway-decent-looking-Human-probably-a-Jedi.
“My lady,” he says with a slight bow. “May I have the pleasure?”
Trying to ignore the feeling of the warmth running to her cheeks and praying that it doesn’t run down her lekku too – like he’d even know what that meant – she extends her hand to him.
Why are his hands so big? Why are they so warm and so gentle even though the tips of his fingers are so calloused and roughened by a man who spends most of his hours doing hard labor?
Kanan takes her much smaller hand in his, pressing a holodisk in the space between their palms before he lowers his lips to the back of her hand in a lingering kiss.
Why are his lips so soft, too?
A smile traces her lips and her gaze never leaves his as he straightens back up.
Hera isn’t really sure why she’s smiling.
Three
“Kanan Jarrus, don’t you dare. I told you to keep your eyes open,” she says firmly. She’s trying to keep her hand over the gaping wound in his thigh that’s pouring out blood but her palm keeps slipping.
“You’re such a slave driver,” he mumbles but the words all run together, barely sounding like basic.
He’s fading too fast.
“Just keep your eyes open, please,” she says again, desperation breaking her voice. Why can’t she steady her hands? Why can’t she pull it together? She’s seen plenty of wounds in her life.
This is nothing different.
“What if we compromise?” he asks, his eyes still closed. Pale. He’s so pale. “What if I just talk and you let me rest my eyes?”
Hera feels the corners of her eyes welling with tears and she doesn’t know why. She’s seen wounds like this before.
“What if you just do what I say and keep running your mouth?” she spouts back at him, trying and failing to keep her voice steady.
Kanan is her partner. He’s her friend. She doesn’t know what she’d do without him. There’s no way that she can lose him.
“Wha’ do I get if I do wha’ you say?” he mumbles thickly.
There isn’t a sufficient answer she has to that and she’s completely lacking the ability to form words without cluing him into the fact that she’s actually near tears. So she gives him the only incentive she can to keep him talking, to keep his eyes open long enough for them to get to Alderaan so that they can get him some treatment.
Hera lowers her lips to his cold and clammy forehead. She lets them linger there much longer than a partner or a friend should.
Four
In the dark of the alley outside of the cantina, Hera can just barely make out their mark. She huffs and tries to raise herself higher on her toes for a better vantage point but it’s not working. She sighs in frustration.
“Do you trust me?” Kanan asks from beside her.
“Trust you to get the information?” she asks, glancing up at him.
“No. Just—do you trust me?”
It’s a loaded question and one that’s left her conflicted with all of the weirdness and feelings she had after her decent-looking-Human-probably-a-Jedi crewmate almost died on her. The simple and uncomplicated answer, though, is yes.
“Of course I trust you,” she answers without hesitation.
Without warning, Kanan hoists her into his arms and presses her back into the duracrete wall of the cantina. Almost gingerly, he pulls her legs around his waist. It's obvious that he's not trying to press any awkward part of his body into hers.
“I’m not doing anything,” he promises in a low voice. His breath is so warm against her bare neck. “I’m just letting you see. Nobody will question it and a scene like this means everybody will avert their eyes.”
Except, there’s at least one person questioning it because the gentle brush of his mouth against her neck as he explains himself makes her wonder what it would feel like to let him kiss her there. Wondering about things like what his goatee would feel like along that tender flesh, what his lips would feel like if he was actually kissing her, are not what this mission is about.
Information.
They’re after information.
Conveniently, she has to tilt her head to the side to hear what the contacts are saying and Kanan adjusts his head accordingly. He whispers things that he picks up on with his gifts, things that she can't hear. His mouth moves along her her neck as he does, his words causing his lips to brush against her prickled skin as he adjusts her in his arms. After what feels like way too long but not nearly long enough, Hera has the information that she came for.
The problem is that she also has a whole lot of new questions, as well.
None of them have to do with her mission.
Five
The first time that Hera thought it would be a good idea to embark on a mission posing as a couple, even if it was months ago, she questioned the decision the second they’d stepped off the ship. Now she looks forward to these missions. She looks forward to the way that she feels her heart flutter in her chest, the way that her stomach seems to turn with excitement like she’s dogfighting TIEs and spiraling through the stars. She anxiously longs for the way that he looks at her when they pull this ploy.
Hera drapes herself all too easily across Kanan’s lap as he throws down an idiot’s array with that shit eating grin. Her handsome-Human-most-definitely-a-Jedi crewmate is still a smug ass.
Not that she’d want him any other way.
Letting Ryl lilt her voice, she looks down at him with a half-feigned look of a bored lover and traces a strand of his long brown hair away from his face. “Love, it’s much too late and you’ve been playing for hours. Why don’t you give these poor men a chance?” she asks, giving a slow bat of her eyelashes.
That thing with the eyelashes isn’t incredibly necessary.
Kanan clears his throat and plays the part of other half perfectly. “You heard the lady, gentleman. It’s bedtime for me.”
“Oh boo-hoo, Jarrus. Crying about going home to bed with that,” a Devaronian mutters from beside him.
The way that Kanan’s hand flies up to catch the Devaronian by the horn startles Hera, and she nearly slides off of his lap.
“With her,” he corrects his fellow card player in a voice that’s laced in something dark and nearly deadly.
“Alright, alright. With her. Better?” he groans.
There’s another firm tug. “Not until you apologize to the lady.”
Goddess, when has she ever seen any sentient stand up for a Twi’lek so vehemently? Why does she want to throw her arms around him for it? What about somebody caring whether or not somebody treats her like every other sentient in the galaxy makes Kanan seem so damn sexy?
After a mumbled apology, the Devaronian manages to keep his horn but he loses his credits, along with the rest of the table, after Kanan has cleaned them out. She's still not entirely convinced that he doesn't cheat with some sort of Jedi voodoo stuff.
Together, they walk hand in hand to the turbolifts where their separate rooms await hundreds of floors up. It feels natural, his hand wrapped around hers. The way she steals glances at him makes her cheeks warm and her lekku right along with them.
Why does she have to feel this way?
When the turbolift door opens, they step on and Kanan depresses the button for their floor; it’s a bit of a ride. That’s not helping the things running through Hera’s mind.
“You didn’t have to do that, y’know,” she says. Why is she still holding his hand?
“Doesn’t mean I won’t. You aren’t a second rate citizen or sentient. If that man had half of a clue what you’re doing for–” he starts and then stops himself as if there aren't any words to describe what he's feeling. Finally, he just shakes his head. “I’m never going to stand by and watch that. I’ll never let anybody hurt you, even if it’s just words.”
Hera opens her mouth to say something but she doesn’t know what to say. She knows what she feels. She knows how he feels because he’s basically been saying it since the day they first met.
Instead, she situates herself in front of him and takes one step closer until there’s only a centimeter between their bodies. A timid hand slides along his chest and around the back of his neck. In the ridiculous heels that she’s wearing, all it takes is a tip of her chin up until there are mere millimeters left between their lips.
The brush of his nose against hers sends a thrill through her body that she’s not expecting.
“Hera.” He breathes her name like it’s a plea and a prayer.
Swallowing hard, she tries to find the courage to bring her lips to his. She’s never kissed anybody before; not really. There’s kissing pillows and kissing your best friend as an experiment with quick little pecks; but then there’s kissing somebody because your stomach is doing flip flops and your heart is beating out of its chest and because you feel that way.
She’s never kissed anybody and he’s kissed Force knows how many people; if there’s anything that scares Hera Syndulla more than feelings, it’s looking like she’s stupid or inexperienced.
With a quick press of her lips to his chin, she pulls away and out of his arms.
Why is this lift so hot?
When the doors finally open, she practically runs to her room, feeling like an idiot. Why couldn’t she just kiss him? Why can’t she ignore the way she feels about him? Why can’t she stop wishing that he would have just kissed her instead?
And of course their rooms are across from each other’s.
“Goodnight,” he says, all too gently.
Hera chances a glance at him and sees that his face is flushed three shades darker than normal and it seems to run all the way down to the bit of skin at the top of his chest revealed by his unbuttoned shirt.
Smiling that smile, the real smile that she reserves for him, she answers.
“Goodnight, Kanan.”
plus one
Even after a long shower with far too many minutes spent oiling her lekku, even after reviewing all of the intel on her datapad, Hera still feels restless. Her mind won’t shut off. She can’t stop thinking about the way that Kanan was ready to snap a horn off of somebody’s head for referring to her as that instead of her. She can’t stop replaying the moment where their mouths were so close to meeting and she rontoed out of it because she didn’t know what she was doing.
She can’t stop thinking that she really shouldn’t feel this way.
A soft rap at her door draws her away from wallowing in her own thoughts. She slides off her bed to answer the door without hesitation; that’s Kanan’s knock for her. It’s how she knows that she’s safe. The knock was his idea for when they take these risky missions. He didn’t want her to open the door and find somebody with less than pure intentions.
The decompressive hiss of the door engages and it slides open to allow Kanan to step in. Of course he has no problem making himself feel at home in a five kyber hotel, walking around in nothing but his soft pajama pants and bare feet; even if it is only across the hallway. Of course her sexy-Human-definitely-a-Jedi crewmate doesn’t care about false accolades bestowed upon shadow organizations to draw in more business.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, trying – and failing miserably – to look solely at his face. Why does he have to have hair on his chest? Why does he have to have that little patch of hair right below his navel that trails to something she won't allow herself to think of? Why can't he just put on a fucking shirt?
When the door closes, Kanan gently takes her hand in his and pulls it up to his neck, to the spot where she’d curled her fingers on the lift. His hand moves to tchin, stroking along the lek with the backs of his fingers. Their faces inch together again.
“Kanan,” she forces out. His name sounds like a whimper, a whine, a plea.
Without the advantage of the heels, he has to come to her. His palm is smooth against her jaw and his thumb is rough against her cheek. The heat of his breath tickles her lips. As their lips draw nearer and nearer, their gazes never break. All the words that need to be said are exchanged in a look.
Do you trust me?
Of course I trust you.
Their noses brush together once more. Her fingertips press into the back of his neck, the grip of her hand on his arm tightens. She doesn’t want to let him get away this time. The strong arm around her lithe waist drawing her closer says he doesn’t want her getting away either.
This could almost be enough, the way they are right now. Her heart is still fluttering and her stomach is doing flip flops and the flush of her cheeks has long reached the end of her lekku. Hera doesn’t know why she feels this way but she does know that she never wants to stop feeling this way.
And then his mouth meets hers.
With her lips already parted, it’s too easy for his mouth to close around her lower lip gently before he moves to her upper lip, to each corner of her mouth. It’s as if he’s wanted to map out every part of her for months and he’s known all along how he was going to do it. There’s a soft shuddering breath between them and she isn’t sure who it came from but she’s not going to pull away to find out.
Sparks cascade between them when she parts her lips further in invitation, allowing him to take the lead. His tongue teases lightly against hers and pulls back; it’s all she needs to find the courage to take what she wants, too. Her tongue gives chase to his and they twine together, each taking turns tasting each other for the first time.
The heat building between them is like the birth of a new star.
Hera is actively not thinking about what would happen if she lets this go any further. If a kiss feels like the birth of a new star; what would it be to let him touch and kiss her all over? Obviously her thoughts are too loud or he’s feeling the same hesitant greed that she feels.
When his lips finally draw away from hers, he draws the breath from her lungs along with it. Her lekku are quivering and his beautiful blue-green eyes are darker than normal. The thickness of her eyelashes half obscure her vision as she looks up, taking him in.
Kanan gives a final gentle stroke along tchin before he pulls away completely. “Goodnight, Hera,” he murmurs.
And then he’s gone.
Hera is left alone but she doesn’t dare move away from the wall that she’s leaning against. She isn’t entirely sure that her legs would carry her all the way back to her bed yet. Lifting her fingertips to her lips, she smiles gently; that smile she smiles only for Kanan.
Her heart whispers a question: Do you trust me?
Her mind, usually reliable for making logical and rational decisions, whispers its response: Of course I trust you.
Even if Hera doesn’t really know what she’s doing, she knows it's something that she and Kanan can figure out together.