a-distant-echo @a-distant-echo - Tumblr Blog

Hi Frosty! Congratulations on your 200 followers 🥳 Very well deserved!

I didn't have anything specific in mind, so I'm going to do my request a little differently (if you're not a fan of this, feel free to ignore). I'll give you three things. You can write whatever you want, but it must contain all three!

1. Fireflies

2. Peanut butter

3. A goodnight kiss

For clones, you can choose from Fives, Wolffe, Tup, or Thorn. It could be fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, suggestive or not. It's up to you! Oh, and with a female reader, please!

I can't wait to see what you come up with 💚

Much love!

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Holidays in Hyperspace [Tup x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: Having been friends for quite some time, Tup has grown incredibly fond of you and your company, and has been wondering how to take things to the next step. A unique opportunity presents itself when the 501st helps Ahsoka put together a party to liven things up and celebrate one of the many galactic holidays while on a long journey through hyperspace; Tup chooses the night of the party to make his affections clear. Will he pull it off without his (well-meaning) brothers meddling with his plans? 2nd Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader (save for a costume). Fluff fic. Friends to lovers. Some fixing of each other's clothes costumes. Mando’a. Very minimal Star Wars and real-world swearing. Fictional and in-universe holidays. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. This fic doubles as a submission for @pinahallowsevecloneparty (permission was given by the requester); prompt sentence(s) for that event are in orange.

Word count: 6,593

It was an early Taungsday morning, the Resolute flagship deep in the thralls of hyperspace.

Though you should be used to it at this point in the war, you would occasionally find yourself struggling with the extended hyperspace journeys. The longer they were, these trips were capable of warping one’s internal sense of time without local day-night cycles to take one’s cues from. The unaccustomed and inexperienced had a much harder time dealing with these drawn-out travel periods, often oversleeping or undersleeping.

Those who had grown wiser in time advised that if you were finding it difficult to sleep, it was best to find something productive to do until you were sufficiently worn out. So, around 03:30, you shuffled yourself down to one of the unofficial social centers—disused meeting or war rooms that had been converted to more inviting spaces-—and wondered who you would find.

More often than not, you could expect to brush elbows with your fellow crew members, as well as the boys of bravest blue, troopers of the 501st Legion of the GAR.

In your time among the Resolute’s crew, you created more than a few unexpected friendships with the Clone soldiers, all of which you cherish deeply.

Captain Rex, longtime leader of the 501st and right hand man to both General Skywalker and Commander Tano, often kept his mind sharp by devising battle strategies and studying intel on the Separatists. You’ve provided company (and caf) while he puzzles out new methods and attack algorithms with the limited downtime he has a handful of times in the past. He’s always been appreciative of how attentive you are as he painstakingly explains tricky terminology or tactics. Admirable ARCs such as Fives and Jesse enjoyed an easy conversation while working to keep their gear in perfect working order. They liked having someone to trade little jokes, someone to playfully pester with all the questions they had on galactic pop culture.

And once you had the approval of the legion’s oldest soldiers, the affections of Torrent Company’s youngest weren’t far behind. They made regular efforts to invite you to join them at the long tables within the commissary time and time again. Generously shared their space with you because they knew you were kind and nothing but respectful, and that you could tolerate most of their boredom-borne antics. (As well as counting on you to talk them out of the riskier ones.)

You haven’t had the chance to confirm it with anyone, but you’re beginning to suspect you're one of their favorite crew members, too.

As you step into one of these converted social centers, you find General Skywalker’s padawan and most of Torrent Company inside, the room in total disarray. Alerted by the door’s hydraulics hissing open, several turn to see who it is and greet you in excitement. Crates full of colorful bits and bobs are piled in the middle of the room, and the tables have been pushed against the interior walls to give everyone space to work.

“Hey, come join us!” someone calls in a lively voice from the back of the group. “We were just helping Commander Tano choose some decorations!”

Interest piqued, you join the cluster in the center of the room to see what all the fuss is about. Clutching a datapad, the young Togruta is scrolling down a long file, face set in an expression of deep concentration. Loosely circled around her, the Clones waiting patiently take the opportunity to trade a few more greetings with you once you’ve drawn closer, choosing to stand beside a trooper with his hair styled in a topknot.

“Hey there, Tup.”

Tup’s word of welcome is slightly teasing, but all in good humor.

“Well good morning. Couldn’t sleep, burc’ya?”

Friend.

You’ve picked up enough Mando’a in your time to recognize the word, sleepless as you are. Out of Torrent’s youngest soldiers, you and Tup are probably the best acquainted. It’s probably been a good few months since you’ve gotten to know one another properly after a few unfortunate trips to the medbay around the same time.

He had sprained his ankle during a field exercise on the planet the Resolute had been stationed over at the time, and needed to pay the health center a visit. Just to make sure the injury wasn’t something more serious than what a bit of bacta and rest could take care of. You, on the other hand, found yourself catching your cabin-mate’s stubborn fever, so you went to see if there was something you could get to lessen the amount of time you would find yourself out of commission. No such luck.

His kind demeanor and even kinder smile made your ailment more bearable when it became more severe, for a time. Tup was sure to visit you every day until you made a full recovery. You’ve been close ever since.

“Something like that…” you reply with a mild chuckle. “What are we choosing decorations for, exactly?”

“Commander Tano was telling us about different, minor galactic holidays just a moment ago.”

Your interest piques again. You knew of big ones, like Boonta Eve, named such in the honor of Boonta Hestilic Shad’ruu, a Hutt who ascended to godhood in Hutt lore. And the Wookie holiday, Life Day, that’s spread in popularity in recent years. But much like sleep, the knowledge of any minor holidays eluded you.

“Oh? Anything interesting?”

Dogma, listening nearby, offers an example. “There’s the Weequay holy season called the Month of Plenty. Honors a lunar god.” It apparently involves open skylights in temples dedicated to the deity Quay on Sriluur to aid with tracking the moon’s position.

Ahsoka, continuing to comb through the file, explains why she’s trying to plan for a small party when you ask what brought this up. “Around this time of year, when I was a youngling, Masters at the Jedi Temple would teach us about the different cultural holidays around the galaxy. To help us expand our minds and form compassion for other lifeforms. I… started feeling a little homesick for the Temple once I remembered.” There’s a few that have looked promising so far, but there’s simply not enough time to prepare for some of them.

Jesse, playfully elbowing Fives next to him, pipes up next. “That’s when we suggested we could find a holiday to celebrate before our next mission! It could be fun for everyone.” There had to be something that didn’t take a lot of planning or effort. Glancing at the datapad, he suggests one he sees at random. “Like… What about the Day of Breath, Commander?”

Ahsoka studies the information on the holiday for a moment, then shrugs. “Day of Breath is for celebrating the day someone was born. I can’t think of anyone who we could celebrate in the next two days before we’re out of hyperspace…”

Fives strokes his goatee in thought before nodding in your direction. “The day she was born wasn’t that long ago. Maybe we could do a belated celebration of her’s?” There’s a murmur of agreement around you, as well as apologies from those who hadn’t realized or forgotten.

“Wait,” Hardcase calls over his brothers’ voices, “what about this one?” He singles out a holiday listed in the middle of the screen just before Ahsoka scrolled on, one that’s celebrated around this time of the standard year.

The Night of Guises and Gourds.

“That’s an odd name.” Ahsoka remarks. Regardless of the strange name, she thinks the holiday holds promise.

It entailed colorful decorations, the creation and gifting of simple, sugary snacks, and costumes. There weren’t many strict or rigid traditions for celebrants to observe, either. Following the end of many galactic harvest seasons, this marked a time to honor the departed, and revere the creatures and concepts of lesser—and sometimes frightening—understandings. (The padawan laughed seeing the Force listed as one of the examples of poorly understood subjects by the document.) Reading deeper into what caught Hardcase’s eye about the costumes explained that these clever guises had drawn inspiration from galactic folklore and mythos long ago, and expanded to iconic figures from pop culture in more recent years.

And, they could be homemade.

“What do you think, Commander? Could probably find things laying around the ship, same as the decorations.”

Ahsoka nods in agreement with Hardcase, grinning.

“I think I already know where to look.”

“We can get a start on the decorations while you’re gone,” you offer, knowing it would take time to rifle through everything collected. It would be doing Ahsoka a huge favor as well.

“You wouldn’t mind supervising?” Ahsoka double-checks, handing over the datapad. You’d need it to best judge what decor crammed in the boxes in the middle of the room will fit the theme of the party while Fives and Jesse volunteer to go search with her.

You smile, certain. “No, not at all! There’s enough of us here to get a good start.” Like the majority of the GAR, Torrent Company was full of hard-working men who had a talent for making the most monotonous of tasks an enjoyable experience.

The padawan nods appreciatively. “Thanks. Dogma, would you mind helping her?”

Dogma meets Tup’s eye, and a strange expression crosses his face. He was never known to question or turn down orders, so to the surprise of both you and Ahsoka, Dogma attempts to shift responsibility. “I’m afraid I… h-have a headache. I should go see Kix for it, Commander. Perhaps Tup can help her in my stead?” Feigning an ache in his right temple, Dogma momentarily cradles the side of his head in hopes of better selling the lie.

Concerned, Ahsoka apologizes for not noticing earlier. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. Go get taken care of. Have Kix let me know if it gets any worse.” She waits once Dogma has quietly excused himself from the room, oblivious to the subtle glances the troopers cast in one another’s direction before turning her attention to your friend standing beside you.

There’s something slightly odd about those smiles coming from them when Tup says he’d be happy to help however you need while you set up for the party, but you try to pay it little mind. Maybe it’s just some form of Clone humor. You’ve seen plenty of it since joining the crew, and you’re sure to see more while you spend the next few days preparing for the Guises and Gourds party.

Word of the party spreads quicker than anticipated.

Plans to decorate one social center turned into multiple, before quickly changing to taking over the main cafeteria after late-meal in order to accommodate everyone interested in attending. As the volunteer team grows, problems disappear almost as quickly as they show up.

An hour ago there wasn’t enough bunting to decorate the main snack and drink tables. Now there’s enough to line the walls of the commissary in an unbroken loop. A majority of the decorating will have to take place the day of the party, leaving plenty of time that can be devoted to figuring out the fun foodstuffs and costumes.

Torrent Company continues to do most of the legwork, the troopers trading their armor for aprons as they work to make enough sugar cookies to feed an army, and then some. They’ve gotten a good head start while you have been busy with your respective tasks around the flagship. By your estimation, they must’ve made fifty trays or more so far, leaving some plain while others were decorated with icing and sprinkles.

You plan to join them once you’ve spent a little time off your feet. So snacking on a sample cookie given to you by Hardcase, you’ve taken to thumbing through a list of last-minute costume ideas on your datapad, looking for inspiration for the few who haven’t found something to wear.

“Mm. That’s a really good cookie.”

Someone from the back of the kitchen tells Hardcase that it’s probably Tup who deserves the credit for the batch of cookies he gave you a sample of. “He figured out how to make ‘em really soft before he and Fives started experimenting on another recipe together.” Hardcase then laughs, adding, “Neither of them will tell us what it is, or accept any offers to help.”

That doesn’t come as much of a surprise to you. Since Tup joined the ranks of the 501st, he’s adopted a few mannerisms and formed close friendships with many of his brothers, namely Dogma, Hardcase, Jesse, Fives and the captain. Out of all of them, and apart from you, Tup’s perhaps closest with Fives.

“Ooh, I bet Jesse hates that.” you reply with a mirthful grin.

Jesse, among the oldest of the company, had a sense of humor that often meshed well with that of his younger brothers’, leading him to keep a closer eye on them in an inadvertent manner.

Sure enough, as he slides another tray laden with cookies out of the industrial ovens before setting them aside to cool, Jesse calls to Fives and Tup as they continue to work with their backs to the rest of the kitchen. Whatever it is they’re working on, they’re doing a splendid job of keeping it secret.

“Are you sure you don’t want more help, Tup?”

“No, no, we got it.” Tup insists, likely not for the first time. “Don’t you still need to find a costume?”

Jesse laughs sheepishly, grateful for the reminder. “Oh damn, nearly forgot.” He’d been busy helping Captain Rex with official matters while most of Torrent had the opportunity to pick out their costumes.

Feeling bad he had missed out on that fun, you came prepared and put together a list of potential costume suggestions you thought he might like with the help of his brothers. “I gotcha covered, Jesse.” You invite him to grab something to sit on and pull up a spot beside you, pulling up those notes from the planning session.

“Got some ideas for me, mesh’la?” He takes the ideas everyone had brainstormed, grinning like a nexu.

You warn him with a playful roll of your eyes. “I had a little help from your brothers. So if you don’t like any of them, don’t be hasty to blame me.”

“What’re you dressing up as?”

Consulting the short list, there was a ‘headless horseman’ suggestion that had been wisely scribbled out; that sounded like he was just begging to be haunted by Jango’s pissed-off spirit. Better safe than sorry.

“A siren. It took a tiny bit of convincing from Tup.” you say.

It had been the strangest thing. You had only mentioned it off-handedly, just a passing sort of comment while looking through the costume material Ahsoka had gathered up, finding a large bolt of shimmery sequin fabric in your favorite color. Like, a really large bolt; enough to make an elaborate (but probably very itchy) dress or two. It helped that it had a vaguely scale-like look to it as you showed the others.

“Heh. Someone could make a really handsome merman using some of this. Whaddya think, boys?”

Tup hadn’t found a costume yet and was seemingly eager to get the process over with, so he jumped on your suggestion. While doing so, he dug out a bolt in a complimentary color to the sequins and offered it out to you.

“Sounds good to me. Oh look! Maybe you could take some of this silk and use it with the sequins to make yourself a siren, burc’ya! You’d look really great.”

You agreed after a short moment of thought, hearing how sincerely he meant it. Tup would never purposely steer you wrong. Now the two of you would have a similar costume theme for the Guises and Gourds party.

It was hard for Jesse to contain his smile next to you. “Tup as a merman. And you’re matching with him? Sounds like you’ll be having a lot of fun.” Turning back to the list, he looked over everyone one last time before making a selection.

“If no one’s taken the king’s costume, I’ll use it.”

“Sounds good then; I’ll ask Ahsoka since she’s keeping track of everything.” Taking back the datapad, you send a short message to Ahsoka, who confirms the costume is still up for grabs just a few minutes later. “Say, any idea if the captain’s able to make it to the party, or does he still think he’s gonna be busy?”

“No idea,” Jesse replies glumly. “Didn’t have a chance to ask.”

“That’s okay.” you say, trying to remain optimistic.

There’s still time to find out, and no shortage of tasks to do before the night of the party.

The day of the party, not long before late-meal, you and Tup agree to meet up to take care of any alterations needed before getting ready for the Night of Guises and Gourds.

It’s not going as smoothly as you hoped. For whatever reason, Tup’s hands are shaking like an under-caffeinated Corrie while he helps you strengthen the stitching holding the slippery folds of silk together. More than once, while wearing the skirt fashioned in place of an awkward and constricting mono-fin, the needle he’s holding has grazed you while piercing through the elastic waistband.

“Ow.”

“S-sorry,” Tup apologizes with a stammer, checking for blood where he poked you.

By the mercy of the Force, he finds none.

“Just a couple more stitches. Unless, you’d rather not risk my help?”

With an assuring nod, you tell him to go ahead and finish. “It’s okay Tup. Just feeling nervous about the party?”

“Maybe a little,” he confesses, concentrating harder on making these last stitches as painless as possible.

Tup’s grateful you’re not Force-sensitive like Commander Tano or General Skywalker right about now. Otherwise you might be able to sense, even hear, how fast his pulse pounds in the shell of his ear. How his heart races, skipping a beat when you say his name. The flush of fire that builds in his face when he thinks of you in fondness and in friendship; it burns hotter day by day. How could he be so lucky to have you for a friend? What cosmic force did he have to thank for putting someone so wholly kind and sweet in his life?

And was he going to be able to pull this off tonight?

If he didn’t… When would he get another chance? Before he plucked up the nerve again, someone else could come along. Maybe another, less cautious brother. Or rather than risking romantisms with someone only born and bred to die, you’d play it safe and date a fellow crewmate. Maybe… maybe he had you all wrong and you weren’t the sort interested in dating.

Other than honest, loyal companionship, what could he even bring to a relationship?

Tup honestly wasn’t sure. But blast it, he wanted to try.

Stitching finished without further incident, Tup puts the sewing supplies aside. “That should do it. Give ‘er a spin, let’s see how I did.”

Humoring him, you start slowly, performing little half-spins. You want to make sure the thread survives a warm-up, first. The fabric sways like grass reeds in the wind, silk swinging against sequin. Building up to higher speeds, bigger movements, the layered skirt now ripples and snaps like wind-battered masts on seafaring ships of old. Slowing again, the movement becomes hypnotic, almost mesmerizing.

As you are now, you look fit for the sea with the long, layered skirt and borrowed bodysuit to give your upper body a slightly more ‘streamlined’ feeling. Your hair has been styled, careful hair gel application giving you a slightly damp, tidal-swept appearance. With more of Tup’s help, you would complete the look and truly fit the part of a siren for your guise. A bit of makeup here and there and a few faux pearls should be enough.

He’s grateful this part doesn’t require a steady hand worthy of a surgeon; daubing brushfuls of shimmering eyeshadows into the scale stencil you’ve made comes a lot easier than grasping a thin needle. Creating patches of these false scales around your eyes, your neck, and the back of your hands takes no time at all. Everything gets sealed with a setting spray and given time to dry.

You’ll leave adding any pearls for last. Now helping Tup, you take the same portion of fishnet stocking you sacrificed for a stencil and start at the collarbone and shoulders. Knowing it’s going to tickle, Tup asks you to save applying makeup on his face for last.

Working quickly, you move the brush and stencil down a portion of his arms, and he begins to regret the amount of glitter building on his skin.

“There’s so much glitter,” Tup remarks with a soft grimace. “We’re gonna be finding this stuff for years after tonight.”

You chuckle sympathetically and try to keep the lilt in your voice playful. “You decided to be a shirtless merman, remember? I can add less scales than we initially planned, but you should make your peace with it now, Tup.” He only shrugs, fiddling with an errant strand of thread from his sequin pants while you brush in the scales. With the completion of his upper arms, all that’s left to work on is his face.

The brush, combined with a feather-light touch proves rather ticklish for your friend.

“Hold still, silly,” you chide him after his head ducks to the side once more. “Hard to do this when you’re squirmy.” You’re prepared to cup his face if necessary, just to make sure the facial pattern doesn’t become misaligned or smudged. He'll need a do-over otherwise. Taking him gingerly by the jaw for the moment, you guide Tup’s head where you need him and try to pick up where you left off.

“Please look at me…”

Tup complies with your request, eager to follow instruction. The pair of you so close together like this, his soulful eyes are practically amber in the ambient light, wholly focused on you. Each time you need to lean in a little closer, carefully brushing in scale after scale, Tup’s smile seems to brighten.

Look at you? Be this close to you? He’d be all too happy to do so.

Once you’re finished, taking extra care to protect the scales with the setting spray, you surprise him with one final addition for his costume. Knowing you’ll have extra, you string together a row of the pearl beads meant to be finishing touches to your own costume with some of the thread from earlier and carefully wrap it around the base of his topknot. This way, it looks like his dark, curly hair has been secured by a string of pearls.

You take a second to find a pocket mirror so he can see the final product before the two of you set off to join his brothers for a hurried late-meal. He admires your work for a moment before telling you he loves it in a soft, awed voice and helps you gather your things.

“Mirdala, - ! I never would have thought of that.”

The two of you walk down to the commissary together and find they’re serving stew tonight—something that provokes an excited “Hell yeah, soup!” from the back of the hall—before you have a chance to discreetly confer with your datapad under the table and find the meaning of the words.

You find one means 'clever', but unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to properly make out the second word at the time.

But that wouldn’t matter soon enough.

In all your time aboard the Jedi cruiser as a longtime member of the crew, you can’t remember a time you’ve seen the main mess hall this lively. Tech-savvy Clones compiled a setlist and mood lighting for tonight to really complete the atmosphere, giving the space a playful vibe.

You’ve had a chance to sample some of the snacks, along with probably one of the best glasses of punch you’ve enjoyed in a long time.

And the costumes! You’re relieved there’s no costume contest put in place for this Guises and Gourds party because it really takes the pressure off of those who feel their entry is in some way conditional. Attendees can come just as they are, if that’s what they desire, or, if plans change.

Letting down her lekku for the night, Ahsoka traded her typical attire for a comfortable poncho set, only keeping the headdress and beaded markings of a padawan learner. You, Tup and the rest of Torrent Company couldn’t remember a time you’d seen her so relaxed, other than when she was meditating. Well, maybe relaxed isn’t the word for it. Happy is probably more appropriate. Carefree.

Ahsoka gets to put her responsibilities behind her and act more like others her age, just for tonight. She’s been bouncing between groups of soldiers since the start of the party, complimenting everyone on their costumes, enjoying the food and the music.

Around the same time she’s made it over to you and “your” little portion of Torrent friends, the 501st’s medic cuts his way through the crowd, surprising everyone.

“Kix! You made it!”

He had been expected to oversee the medbay tonight, but more than likely he cashed in a few favors in order to make an appearance. “Thought I’d see what all the fuss was about. Sorry I missed…” Kix trailed off, gesturing to the decorations and a few of his brother’s costumes. “All this. But you guys look great! What’s everyone supposed to be?” Going around in a circle, everyone explains their costume, or lack thereof.

Dogma decided on a vampire costume because of its simplicity, settling for a red cape to accent his Republic blacks, though he wasn’t a fan of the false fangs. He wore them only for pictures, since they made it hard to talk. Fives had tried to pull off a lycanthrope look, but the adhesive was dodgy and he ended up looking like a Wookie with a very unfortunate case of mange. He had to settle for borrowing a non-Clone’s medical coat to dress up as a “Sexy Doctor” reminiscent of those medical holodramas. A glorious-looking king for all of fifteen minutes, Jesse successfully demoted himself to a fancy prince after he convinced Captain Rex to take the crown offered to him. Hardcase had wandered off to go talk to the captain about something shortly after and hadn’t yet returned, but he opted not to go in costume due to decision fatigue. He would much rather eliminate any stressors that would take away from the fun of spending time with his brothers.

Tup explained he was a merman when Kix questioned if he wasn’t cold being shirtless, proudly showing off the shimming patches of scales and the string of pearls nestled in his hair. He gestured to you next before his brother got the chance to ask, obviously excited.

“And she’s a siren; similar theme!”

Kix nodded to show his approval. “Rather impressive you two. And what about you, Commander? What’s your costume?”

Ahsoka shrugged. “Oh, I don’t have a costume.”

“Your poncho has a hood,” you point out, carefully raising the blueish white pocket of fabric over her head when she asks. “There! Now you can be a ghost.”

She gives you a beaming smile, grateful for your help. “Thanks! And thanks so much for all the help you’ve put into the party. Means a lot.”

Her smile is returned with one of your own.

“Any time, Ahsoka.”

Before setting off to mingle with the other attendees once more, she leaves you with a kind embrace and a reminder to enjoy the rest of the party. Everyone else, she playfully instructs to behave.

Kix assures her that they will. “It’s not every day we get to celebrate a holiday in hyperspace. Right, Tup?” He gently nudges the end of his elbow into the brother beside him currently looking a little lost in thought. Surprised, Tup turns to look at the medic, unsure what was asked.

“Hmm?”

“You okay, Tup? You seem distracted.”

Assuring his brother, Tup tries to wave Kix’s concerns away. “Yeah, yeah- I’m fine. Just remembered that I forgot something for the party in our bunkroom. Erm, more than one thing, actually…”

Without a moment of hesitation, or even knowing what it is that he’s forgotten, you offer to go with him. Surprisingly, none of his other brothers offer to lend a helping hand. That’s not like them at all. Each one of them merely smiles and says “Alright, we’ll see you two later.” before Tup disposes of your empty punch glass and leads the two of you out of the crowded mess hall. The lengthy corridors of the venator feel so empty by comparison, quieter than you ever remember them being.

Tup’s pace down to his bunkroom is hurried, which you chalk up to distance. While the bunkroom isn’t too far away from the party, you still have a bit of ground to cover together. You expect to return to the party before long, unless whatever it is Tup forgot ended up being something heavy, or unwieldy.

“Are you sure we don’t need your brothers’ help?”

“I’m sure. They keep offering, but I don’t need the help of my vode for this.” Tup replies cryptically.

You find his answer a little strange, but you’ll know what he means soon enough.

Opening the bunkroom door, Tup seems surprised that there’s no light on inside when the hydraulics quickly whip the door back. They were on when he left to help you fix your costume, and none of his brothers told him they had turned off the light, either. Nothing too weird about that, they must’ve just forgotten to mention it, excited about the Night of Guises and Gourds party.

He’ll just turn on the light and- nothing. Was there a problem with the panel? Depressing the usual buttons a few times has no results on the room, save for turning the dim ‘sleeping’ light overhead on and off instead of the primaries.

Great. More problems for the maintenance crew to sort out.

Shaking his head, Tup suggests you both just forget it for now and go figure out where the stuff ended up. What you came for had originally been left by the door, but it looked like someone forgot why it was there and put everything away. It was likely going to be by his bunk or along the back wall, both of which were further back from the door.

Guiding you through the semi-darkness, he takes your hand to help you navigate the room.

It’s tidier than you expected, the only ‘mess’ to be seen are a few open foot lockers stacked at the foot of each bunk. “Watch your step. Wouldn’t want you to trip over anything.” As you venture deeper, the radius of the dim sleeping light fails to adequately light the way around, meaning in no time at all you’d be stumbling blindly without your friend’s help.

You tighten the stitching of your interlocked fingers, an anchor of safety. In return, Tup squeezes your hand reassuringly; a promise you’ll be okay while your eyes adjust to the dark.

Coming up to the back of the room, Tup tells you to wait off to the side, offering to find a decent light-source for you so you have an easier time helping him ‘find’ everything.

But he won’t be finding anything; this is all part of his plan. Removing the mattresses from the frame of the bunk, he lays each on the floor in front of you, throwing down a couple of spare pillows for good measure. Inviting you to get comfortable, he collects the box of rations and a small holo-projector previously hidden under the lower mattress.

Humming to life, the projector begins to play a pre-selected recording once Tup has set it on the floor.

Slowly, tiny spots of blue light wink into existence and fill the air around you, lazily drifting on a far-away breeze. In the bottom of the projection, thin stalks of tall grass sway and ripple, wave-like. This must have been recorded in a forest clearing, or grasslands of some kind. In it is a ‘sparkle’ of fireflies, climbing and bumbling through the air in a fascinating spectacle.

It becomes pretty apparent what he’s trying to do. In your lifetime, you’ve seen more than enough holo-dramas and read just as many romance novels to puzzle out where this is going. Tup, your very good friend, has put together a picnic in the middle of hyperspace to the best of his ability in order to ask you a very important kind of question.

“Tup… Is this what I think it is?”

By way of answering, Tup takes the hinged lid of the ration box and swings it back to show you what’s inside. Nestled in a crumpled layer of parchment paper lay peanut butter cookies, still looking just as soft and gooey from when they were baked. It’s an offering to share, or maybe a gift to you.

Moving closer, he puts the box between you, waiting with bated breath and a nervous smile after you take the first cookie and break off a mouthful to sample. “Oh, Maker,” you moan near-sinfully after the first bite. “These are even better than the other cookies.” It’s decadent; rich and buttery smooth all at once. A lot of care must have been put into getting the recipe down for you. These had to be what he and Fives were working on in the kitchen the other day.

“You made these for me?”

Tup nods, finding his voice. “I did. I wanted to make tonight special. Well, m-more special than it already was.” Throat bobbing, he swallows down his nervousness with a bite of his own hard work, chewing slowly to think of something more to say. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now… But I couldn’t find the right time to say it. Or the right thing to do.”

Half-eaten cookie in hand, he gestures to the holographic fireflies. “I wanted to take you stargazing. But we see stars all the time, especially in hyperspace. So Hardcase suggested fireflies instead. I-I dunno where he found the idea; I was running out of time.”

“Well, even if he can be a tad… distractible, ‘Case is full of lots of good ideas. And fireflies are pretty.” you reply, breaking off another portion of your first cookie. “What were you running out of time for?”

In the dim light, he shrugs his shoulders, full lips set in a slight pout. “It doesn’t really matter, I guess. There was so much more I wanted to do and I only had a few days to do it.” The fact he did it at all was an accomplishment, too. It would probably be best to tell you that another time.

Best not to spoil the moment when you move aside the repurposed cache full of cookies and slide closer to him, all with that sweet look on your face he grew so fond of. It didn’t matter that it had been half a year or less since getting to know you. Tup had grown so enamored with you for your kindness and a rare, genuine nature to you that he knew he’d be willing to risk making his heart vulnerable to you.

His brothers had his back. You practically had his heart; he just hoped to make it official.

Trying to put himself at ease, Tup finds your hand and merely holds it for a time. Committing to memory as much as he can. The weight of your hand, the length of each digit. Where your hands are soft, or rough with the evidence of a storied life. How comforting it is to feel you squeeze his hand and rub your thumb over every scarred knuckle with the kind of tenderness he was never really afforded as a young cadet, or even as a tubie.

He’s courageous, and competent, and capable of so many things… except finding the bravery in himself to utter three little words.

“I… I want you to be more than just my friend. More than a vod’ika, too.” Tup tries explaining, using the Mando’a word that means more than just ‘sibling’, but also ‘dear friend’; both of which are always meant as endearing terms. He’s grateful you’re clever enough to read between the lines and know what his tongue cannot bring itself to tell.

Utilizing your knowledge of the ungendered language, you search for the next closest words as you move to cradle the back of Tup’s head, smiling encouragingly.

“What do you want me to be?” you ask. “Gar…?”

Voice soft, almost breathless, Tup answers your prompting. He sits forward. You do the same.

“Mirdala cyar’ika.”

Drawing him close, warm, silken lips take that first of shared gestures quickly—testing, even tempting deeper waters. Each of you face this depth, deciding to press on together. Warmth consumes the two of you as you each grow bolder, going forward with more confidence in swimming further out from safe harbors. Out of reach from the white caps of the cresting waves, together you take pause, seeming to recall where you are.

For a moment, you felt almost adrift. Heads light, and the silk from your skirt pooling between you, slipping with every moment, had given you both the feeling that you were somewhere else. Somewhere lightyears beyond the Resolute racing through a hyperspace lane, bigger than this dim bunkroom and the middle of a projection of little, living stars swimming in an ocean made of oxygen.

Basking in this euphoria, both of you first lean against the other, arms laced tight and catching your breath. Neither want to let go. Not when there’s a thousand unspoken I love you-s to perform, and a thousand more ways that are far more unique.

“We can tell your brothers whenever you’re ready. This little bit of… ‘star gazing’ was a great idea… Thank you, ner cyare.”

Before the end of the night, it would not matter that he ended up missing the rest of the party with his brothers; Tup could now say with full confidence that his new favorite holiday was the Night of Guises and Gourds.

Not when you could say the same thing.

Thank you for making a fun request for this little event, Steph, and for allowing me to double-dip by fitting this into Pina's Monster/Halloween AU by making this a costume party. This ended up longer than I expected but it was so, so much fun to write; I hope you enjoyed! 🩷

Fic taglist: @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636

[Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: OPEN]

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

a-distant-echo