Kallus finds himself very, very smitten with starfighter-pilot-in-training Benj Dobbs. Or, as Dayja calls him: Doobs.
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“Hey,” Dobbs said as he approached. “It’s Kallus, right?”
“Yes,” Kallus said, feeling himself flush immediately. Though if it was because Dobbs remembered his name or because Dobbs was taking a seat beside him or because Dayja was faking a coughing fit as he gathered his things and stood from the table to leave, he couldn’t say.
“Later Doobs: Starfighter Corps,” Dayja said.
Dobbs gave him a confused look and Kallus waved him off hurriedly. “So,” Dobbs said, turning back to Kallus and flashing him his brilliant smile. “I was wondering what it takes to get the cutest cadet at Royal Imperial to agree to a date?”
“I don’t know,” Kallus said with a smoothness that, frankly shocked him. “What would it take to get you to agree to a date?”
“NICE!”
Kallus and Dobbs looked over to see Dayja depositing his uneaten salad in the compost bin nearby. Kallus let out a sharp breath and mouthed, “Go eat something.”
“You’re not my real dad!” Dayja mouthed back before turning on his heel, grabbing a pomegrapple from a nearby basket, and leaving the mess hall.
“Sorry about that,” Kallus said through a laugh, returning his gaze to Dobbs, who was looking at him with amusement.
“What’s the deal with you two, anyway?” Dobbs asked with a curious smile. “Are you related or something?”
“Or… something,” Kallus agreed, clearing his throat awkwardly. He took a deep breath he didn’t seem to be able to let out as Dobbs took his hand in his, casually lacing their fingers together.
“Can I comm you tonight?” Dobbs asked quietly.
Kallus remembered how to exhale. He was pretty sure he did. He’d done it millions of times before. He was going to do it any moment now. “Yes,” he answered breathlessly.
Dobbs’ beautiful mouth split into a wide, warm smile. “Great.”
Kallus resisted both of his twin urges: to giggle like an idiot at the shin confidently rubbing against his own, and to turn around to make sure Dayja had actually fucking left.
He was rather proud of himself for resisting, actually.
And for the next three weeks, when Kallus wasn’t going to class, or training, or studying…
He was usually making out with Benj Dobbs in an alcove, empty training room, or supply closet.
This last time, they really did mean to spar.
Or, Kallus did, anyway.
But they were eighteen and nineteen years old and Dobbs was just really, really, really attractive.
