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“What’s this, my dear?” Obi-Wan asked, picking up Cody’s data pad and angling it toward him so the words on the screen were clearly visible.
“From a bacta shipment to a banthashit curse: notes toward a story of true love.”
“Oh, that,” Cody replied, and he felt a slight flush creep up the back of his neck. It wasn’t the first time Obi-Wan had read Cody’s writing, of course. Ever since Cody had started writing romance novels in his free time, Obi-Wan had read all his drafts - leaving thoughtful comments and marking his favorite spots with small stars or emphatic sweeps of his stylus pen. In the process he’d perused any number of passages that had been inspired by romantic feelings of a rather more local nature than the novels’ lesser-known planetary settings might have implied.But Obi-Wan had never known he was fueling the emotional life of those stories - or that he’d served as a model for one of the protagonists of Cody’s most recent book: a certain fictional Jedi with a propensity for falling into Sith traps. Cody had never imagined that Obi-Wan would know about his role in Cody’s writing - if not for the titular banthashit curse that had brought on their first kiss days before, Cody might have kept his feelings quiet indefinitely - and now, faced with the prospect of revealing his influences in live time, he found the idea as terrifying as it was impossible to resist. “I was thinking,” he continued, taking the proffered pad out of Obi-Wan’s hands and running a finger along the edge. “About how you said our first kiss was like something out of one of the books I’d mocked in my latest novel. It made me wonder how I would tell the story. But the more I thought about it, the more I remembered how much the way you tell a story changes the story you tell. And I couldn’t make up my mind about how to start.”Obi-Wan smiled: soft for a moment, and then with a hint of mischief.“Would you like to try out some of the options on me?” he asked. “Purely for research purposes, of course.” Cody raised an eyebrow, feeling an answering tug at his own lips.“You want to see the range of possibilities?” he asked. “All right. Sit down and get out your pad. I’ll type, and you read.”He waited for Obi-Wan to get settled in front of his own device, and then he started writing. ** From a bacta shipment to a banthashit curse: notes toward a story of true love.
The bacta order sat there on the spreadsheet like a split bill at 79s: something just didn’t add up.
“Something just doesn’t add up,” I said.
“I know,” Stitches replied, his expression flat under the cold, unforgiving lights of the Negotiator ’s artificial dusk. “The whole shipment is here though. Sitting there as clear as a blaster hole through a fresh layer of paint. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Well what the hell is it doing on my ship?” I demanded. “Top brass in Coruscant keeps telling us to tighten our utility belts: we’re only supposed to get half this supply.”
Of course, the Doc knew that as well as I did. The war was long, but the red tape in the Senate was longer, and both of us knew we’d be pinched tighter than a shiny in cast-off armor if someone in Central thought we were cooking books or cutting deals.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said.
And that’s when I went to see him. The General.
The General was the kind of man it was easy to go see and hard to look away from. He had a smile that pulled sideways like the weight of the past and eyes like sharing a long drink over a sad story. He was a redhead, with legs that went on for parsecs: the kind of legs you could imagine wrapping tight around the circuitry of a battle droid, or grabbing onto in the heat of passion and -
** Cody was interrupted by a soft snort from Obi-Wan’s direction. “Finding something amusing?” Cody asked, keeping his face carefully neutral.“It’s a terrific train of thought to pursue later, darling,” Obi-Wan murmured. “But I’d love to hear more about your…less hard-boiled feelings?”“Mmm,” Cody hummed, his fingers already dancing across that pad again. “I’ll see what I can do.” **
When Cody found his general, his pulse quickened automatically at the sight of the man’s nimble, callused hands setting down a tray of cookies, his long fingers lingering over the arrangement in the way Cody had always hoped they would linger in the locks of his hair.
He told General Kenobi about the extra bacta, and then, with his heart pounding more and more insistently against his chest, he listened as General Kenobi explained that the supplies were his doing: bought with the proceeds of the bestselling books he wrote under a pseudonym.
Cody could barely contain the rush of warmth that filled his chest at the news, his mind racing with the knowledge that his dashing commanding officer had even more mysteries to his name than the men of the 212th had known.
How fitting, then, that it would turn out to be this man, whose daily presence Cody had courted until it became a fierce secret of his own, who first showed Cody what it was to fall in love with a novel - and who first suggested Cody ought to try his hand at the craft himself.
The suggestion turned into a strategy, and by the time Cody wrote his first words, he had filled his mind with so many stories and sharp satires that they poured out of him: from the neat cells of a spreadsheet to the long lines of prose that brought his fictional lovers and historical dilemmas the happy endings that seemed so out of reach in his own world - a world of unending war and unfulfillable desire.
Cody had decided to choose a pen name for himself as well - C.A. Marshal - and with every new review or fresh receipt from his writing, he felt a burst of gratification at his ability to bring more comfort to the lives of his brothers.
And if, while he was writing late into the night, pouring over his research into the logistics of the amorous encounters he’d yet to experience for himself, Cody sometimes enriched his imagination with the occasional daydream about what positions his general would most enjoy - about the sounds he might make as Cody’s fictional heroes kissed their way up the column of his throat - that was just one more secret to add to Cody’s store.
Then came the book that Cody thought for sure would leave his heart fully exposed. He'd written it partially to overcome writer’s block, but mostly in an attempt to laugh himself out of his hopeless infatuation: a parody of the most overblown tropes and a gentle satire of a certain second-in-command’s incurable love for his Jedi. He felt sure there was no way his general could miss the likeness.
So when Obi-Wan (for Cody did dare to call him Obi-Wan, if only in the tender secrecy of his own mind) finally read the draft, Cody waited with his breath in his throat, his every nerve burning like plasma beams as his general’s eyes moved across the data pad. What would Obi-Wan think about the kiss the Jedi and her right-hand man had shared against the pillar in the combat arena where the Jedi was chained? Or about the scene where they’d had to couple in order to save each other from the cruel designs of the Sith, their hands unfastening each other’s clothing and clutching at each other’s skin with the same tender desperation that Cody had always yearned to show -
“It’s an excellent romp,” Obi-Wan said finally.
And when their fingers brushed against each other in the glowing light of the data pad, Cody felt the tinge of red on his general’s ears burn behind his own cheeks in an answering blush.
** “I did not blush,” Obi-Wan protested - blushing again, Cody observed as he looked up from his pad.“I notice you didn’t object on the grounds of verisimilitude when I was describing your legs as ‘going on for parsecs,’” Cody pointed out, and was rewarded with an eye roll. “Very well, Cody, I yield to the conventions of the genre. But as we’re about to come to the part I don’t remember, may I suggest a style a little bit less…florid?”“You could be right,” Cody replied, settling back in his chair. “Maybe it’s best to go back to where I started.” **
The draft was read. The trial had come and gone. General Kenobi had seen the novel that had sprung from the most obstinate feelings of Cody’s heart, and still Cody’s secret was safe.
And perhaps it was that very safety, so long and so watchfully guarded, which, perversely, led Cody to feel a sudden desire for publicity instead. He listened to Obi-Wan compare the protagonists of the novel to General Secura and Commander Bly - never, never to the models so close at hand - and for a moment Cody entertained the idea of publishing some proof of his true devotion - of putting in print the simple dedication that had long been the rule of his heart.
“Obi-Wan, this is for you.”
Minds more given to superstition than Cody’s might have paused before forming a wish for such full and sudden disclosure; and Cody himself could hardly help feeling that he’d tempted the Force when, at the end of his general’s next mission, an opportunity arose to test precisely what level of happiness disclosure might afford.
“Obi-Wan has been cursed,” Master Windu said, “and only true love’s kiss will wake him.”
It was perhaps a measure of how long Cody had served with his general that this announcement failed to raise any sizable degree of surprise.
It was in the nature of curses, Cody had learned, to strike at the moments when one felt most secure. And it was in the nature of Obi-Wan, Cody had learned even more thoroughly, to leave himself open to those strikes; his too-trusting heart was always slow to sever a connection - even to the former Sith apprentice Asajj Ventress, who was responsible for the general’s current state.
Such were Cody’s thoughts as he took up his position at Obi-Wan’s bedside. Though the conditions under which he was to perform the office of true love were so far from the fancies he’d harbored for years that it hardly bore consideration, he had, in any case, known his own mind too long to hesitate when the call arrived.
With faith in Obi-Wan’s Force and in his own stubbornness, Cody bent to bestow three kisses, pressing with his lips the words he’d never been able to speak aloud.
Possessed as he was with more than the common amount of obstinacy, Cody was prepared to repeat the exercise as many times as the curse required. But fortunately, Obi-Wan had never liked to make people wait - his Commander least of all.
“I seem to find myself in one of the novels whose contrivances you turned to such delightful purpose in your bestseller,” Obi-Wan observed. “And perhaps as the recipient of one of your carefully researched kisses?”
“True love’s kiss,” Cody confirmed.
He watched Obi-Wan’s expression soften, and in reviewing the months leading up to this moment, Cody wondered whether perhaps their joint share of obliviousness had been more equally apportioned than he’d acknowledged.
“My faith in your thoroughness has never been disappointed,” Obi-Wan told him. “But I’m afraid I slept through the event. I’d hate to have missed the chance to try it at least once in my life.”
And who could wonder what the Commander did next? In his twenty-six years, Cody had met with much to test his commitment and nothing to break it. When he leaned in to offer Obi-Wan the chance they’d both thought might never come, neither the weight of what they’d survived or the shadow of the threats to come could make them wish the course of events other than what it had been.
** “Well?” Cody asked, when the silence had stretched long past the point Obi-Wan must have finished reading. “What do you think?” Obi-Wan looked up at him, his eyes a little bright.“I think it’s true, as you say: it’s the telling that makes the tale.”“I don’t know the ending yet,” Cody admitted, reaching out to tangle his fingers with Obi-Wan’s. “But I think that’s okay - whatever comes next, it will come out of our having this along the way.”Obi-Wan made a soft sound and brought Cody’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against Cody’s knuckles. “You have a true, romantic heart, my dear. I feel very lucky to share it.” he said. Cody hummed, tracing the line of Obi-Wan’s chin with his thumb.“The story is missing one thing though,” he remarked, and in answer to Obi-Wan’s questioning tilt of the head, he tapped out a quick sentence at the top of his pad:
“Obi-Wan, this is for you.”