“Shhh!” ~ Part A and Part B Kalluzeb for KAW 2020 - confession/other people’s reactions prompt - day 6
I’m posting this early since I don’t think I’ll be near the computer tomorrow at all to upload, so enjoy one of the harder pics I worked on, since it had the WHOLE CREW! I managed to get BOTH prompts in on this one, I am a bit proud!
(So.. this is .. late. Very late. But I lost my original file with all my reponses and I’m having to rewrite. Enjoy!)
Alexsandr Kallus would never believe that he deserved the chances that life had given him. Not the ones that came with being born to a wealthy and moderately powerful Coruscanti family, nor the ones that his natural intelligence and athleticism afforded him. He never understood why he alone was left to survive on Onduran. And he would certainly never understand how it was that Garazeb Orellios one of the last remaining Lasat in the universe had come to call him first ally, then friend, and now... this.
Zeb was curled around his body, so very warm, and blessedly soft with his newly thickened fur, staving off the feeling of being frozen to one’s bones that had pervaded nearly every rebel in Echo Base. Each room was kept just warm enough to stave off hypothermia, and certainly not warm enough to be comfortable. They'd all been briefed about how best to maintain body heat, and the increased need for calories. There hadn’t been any directives about sharing body heat, but frankly, Alex couldn't understand why everyone wasn't huddled up in their sleeping pod with their roommate. He and Zeb had shared quarters before, starting back on Yavin IV, as the available space shrank and more defectors made it to their side. But despite having a higher natural body temperature and a soft dense fur coat, nobody had even made an attempt to claim his for a roommate when they’d arrived, though he’d gotten a few relieved looks.
This was, in his opinion, their loss and his magnificent gain. A few people had mentioned his scent in passing, and while on a certain level he knew it was not spring flowers, the musky smell of the Lasat’s fur didn't offend. It smelled of safety, of warmth on the frozen moon as they'd tried to survive and a little like the Ghost, which carried the scents of all the Spectres. He couldn't find a shred of shame, comfortably warm and content listening Zeb's quiet sleepy purr.
"You gonna sleep or what?" Zeb's usually gravelly tone was even deeper when he was drowsy.
"I'm just enjoying being warm."
"You have a shift in six hours. Sleep so I can sleep."
Alexsandr knew it was true, and probably the wise thing to do, but their schedules hadn't synced up in at least a week's worth of rotations, and it felt so good to simply be here. "I suppose, you're right."
"I am."
"But, you know, I'm not that tired, and I have missed you."
"Oh really?"
"Yes really."
Zeb seemed to take that as blanket permission, and curled even tighter around his roommate. "Mm. Missed you too. You barely even smell like mine."
He hadn't put much thought into their differences, when he'd let himself fall for the lasat. But different they most definitely were. One of the things he'd learned very early on was about scenting. That had started nearly immediately, with extra touches and brushing up against him. When Sabine had pulled him aside to explain on Lothal, he'd been slightly embarrassed, but simultaneously flattered.
"You'll have to fix that, love."
"Alex," came out like a growl, and he was rolled in his lover's arms, and pulled close. Zeb rubbed his cheek with his own, and rumbled deep in his chest.
He also hadn't considered the things that were not part of a human mating practice that would get him going. There was something incredibly intimate and gentle about this ritual. He loved it inexplicably, despite the occasional beard burn on his neck that he enjoyed not explaining to absolutely anyone.
"You smell so kriffing good, when you smell like us."
"Mm." He let his hands flit over Zeb's fur. The chill on Hoth had caused it to thicken and grow in length, which honestly, felt amazing. He leaned forward and rubbed against it with his forehead, and smoothed his hands over his lover's shoulders and back.
"Are you .. petting me?"
"Maybe a little."
"It's nice," he answered quietly. "Don't tell anybody."
Kallus smirked to himself, tracing Zeb's stripes with his fingers. "Wouldn't dream of it, dearest." He continued the gentle strokes even as he felt Garazeb's breathing even as he slipped off to sleep. He smiled. He didn't deserve any of this, but he was so grateful for it.
Tumblr: Just make sure to tag “Kalluzeb Appreciation Week” Or “KAW 2020” for us to find it so we can reblog them.
AO3: I made a collection: http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Kalluzeappreciationbweek
Twitter or other: We will try to keep an eye but feel welcome to send us messages so we can include you link to a master list.
Do I need to make both prompts?
No, we are offering two to help inspiration.
Only one prompt is required by day. If both inspire you go for it!
If I haven’t finish by the day, can I still submit my work later?
Well, of course!
We understand that sometimes life happened or that inspiration strikes late. The collection on AO3 would stay open for a while and we will keep and eye on the tags to.
“No,” Kallus mutters, looking away from his bruised knuckles clutched in Zeb’s hands.
“You sure?” A gentle thumb runs over the purple and green patches spreading across the agent’s hands. “It looks pretty bad, Kal.”
“I’m alright.” Kallus clears his throat, withdrawing his grip.
“Alright,” Zeb’s voice drops lower, ears pressed flat against his skull. “If you say so.”
“I do,” the agent asserts, and the Lasat, towering above him, rolls his eyes. Despite himself, a chuckle escapes Kallus.
“What?” Zeb growls, and Kallus can’t meet his eyes.
“Nothing,” he says, suddenly convinced he must be delirious from pain. “I just…”
He never expected to be here, standing in the hold of the Ghost and welcomed as one of its crew. The thought is nearly overwhelming, but what does take him fully is Garazeb Orrelios, who, despite the fact that he’s thrown Kallus across several rooms and all over the surface of an ice moon, can hold him so tenderly now, and is bandaging his wounds with an incredible amount of concern in his eyes. What’s miraculous is that Kallus considers Zeb to be his friend, that he enjoys their proximity and Zeb taking care of him and-
Oh.
Karabast.
The distance in Kallus’s gaze grows, and Zeb loses himself in the honey-brown of his eyes. Something wells in Zeb’s throat. After escaping Thrawn, Kallus is finally here with them, safe and secure. Zeb nearly wishes that he could hug the other man, protect him in his arms. He’s brave to have joined them, to turn his back on an entire life spent with the Empire, to risk it all to help the Rebellion, and Zeb admires him for it so much-
Oh.
Karabast.
The thought lingers in both men’s minds. Nearly a minute passes in total silence, until Zeb finally clears his throat, heat flushing his cheeks as he turns away from Kallus. A sudden wave of exhaustion passes over Kallus, and he sways on the spot.
Instantly, a strong arm supports him, holding him up. “C’mere,” Zeb murmurs, leading him down the hall. A door slides open, and Kallus realizes that this must be Zeb’s room.
Part of him wants to protest at being coddled, and another part of him screams in pain, wailing about how tired he is.
Kallus looks at Zeb, ignoring the pounding of his own heart. Perhaps, he can tolerate this level of blatant affection. For Zeb.
Zeb had seen the interior to his fair share of brigs and prison cells; it was an occupational hazard after all. The one he'd found himself in this time was fairly unremarkable: the usual gunmetal black walls, the uncomfortably textured grating on the floor, the camera in the corner with its blinking red light reminding him that they were always watching.
It was business as usual in the world of imperial incarceration, at least until they got to the interrogation aspect of this venture and ended his isolation.
He eyed the blinking light dubiously, tempted to destroy the thing just for some privacy. A human probably couldn't reach it, but Zeb was no human. He lifted himself from the floor, stretching his back and arms as he calculated a way to use the walls to reach the infernal device.
The lasat crouched, on the verge of pouncing, when the little red light blinked off and never came back on.
For a couple of minutes, he didn't move, staring and waiting for it to come back on. It wasn't until he heard clear sounds of some sort of scuffle outside that he snapped to attention, rising from his crouched position in time to see the cell door slide from sight.
Beyond it stood a man dressed in death trooper armor, a shock rod in one hand still crackling with energy, two regular storm troopers lie crumpled at his feet.
"We need to move."
Zeb shouldn't have been surprised to hear Kallus' voice, mildly distorted from the helmet, and yet the fact the man was standing heroically atop the fallen guards to spring the lasat from the Empire staggered Zeb. Somewhere in the distance, something exploded, which meant Sabine was likely there as well. This thought spurred him forward, and soon he and the death trooper with Kallus' voice were sprinting through hallways, a couple of which adorned with unconscious storm troopers.
"Spectre four retrieved, enroute to rendezvous point one."
It was here that Sabine turned up, and unlike Kallus, she was not undercover, her armor a bright splash of color in a dark black and white imperial space. As she skidded around the corner to join them, she tossed Zeb his bo-rifle, then unholstered her weapon.
"Loth-cat's out of the bag, gentlemen," she said, adjusting her grip on a bag she had slung diagonally over her. "Let's rendezvous with Hera and get the hell off this boat."
"Hera's here?" Zeb had found his voice, at last, nearly missing a turn in his surprise. "But she's-."
"Very pregnant, yes," Sabine answered, as the three of them slid to a halt by a lift, Kallus jabbing the call button. "Should have thought of that before you decided to go off on your own and attempt a solo break-in of an imperial facility."
In recent months Sabine was starting to sound more and more like Hera. He could imagine the looks she was giving him behind that helmet of hers as they squeezed into the lift.
"I don't suppose you want to tell us why exactly you did this?" Kallus asked, taking the brief respite of the moving lift to remove the black death trooper helmet. His cheeks were flushed, likely from the running, and his hair was a mess from the helmet.
Zeb thought he'd never looked more handsome. He didn't say this; instead, he mumbled out "not particularly" as the lift doors opened.
There wouldn't be more time to discuss it until they managed their escape. It wasn't a particularly spectacular one, considering the many times the Ghost crew had evaded the clutches of the Empire, but it was still a feat.
Sabine rounded on him the moment the cargo bay ramp began to swing closed, the motion of the ghost taking flight, causing them to sway. She dropped the bag off of her shoulder, and it fell to Zeb's feet. Kallus' back was to them, bent over the hatch controls. "The weapon makes sense, but what's with the rock?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
Zeb opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, spared answering when Kallus joined them, the sound of the Ghost entering hyperspace thrumming through the ship. Kallus eyed the lasat, examining Zeb as if to ensure he was whole. "Are you okay?"
"He's fine," Sabine said, unfolding and popping off her vibrant Mandalorian style helm. "I checked the system, and we got there before they got around to interrogation."
"Thank stars," Kallus breathed. He took a step closer, and then there was that hesitation. He curled his fingers and corrected his stance. Zeb had watched his dearest friend shy away from him in this manner many times before. "Mind telling us what was so important in that facility?"
Zeb could hardly hear the query over the roar of his own racing heart in his ears as their eyes met. At his feet, in the bag were the two things Zeb had told himself he needed to show Kallus how he felt. The man had just busted him out like a hero, and yet the lasat was frozen, afraid to confess. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and wet his lips unnecessarily.
Then, in a fit of poorly executed inspiration, Zeb kicked the bag vaguely in Kallus' direction. "Why don't you see for yourself?"
Kallus ran his hand through his hair, a nervous tick of his, and moved his gaze from Zeb to Sabine, who shrugged, made an excuse about checking on Hera, and evacuated up the ladder and out of sight into the main ship. Kallus bent low, tugging open the closure of the bag. Zeb knew the moment of recognition, as the human's eyebrows arched high as his fingers wrapped around a familiar weapon grip.
"Garazeb." Kallus' voice was breathy, as the bag fell from around his modified bo-rifle, a weapon he hadn't held since before he'd escaped the Empire at the battle for Atollon. "I was sure Thrawn had taken it whale watching."
Zeb laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, daring to allow himself a step closer. "I thought so too," Zeb said. "It was actually a bonus surprise when I got here."
"Oh good, so you didn't risk your neck just to retrieve this," Kallus sighed, still looking down at the weapon, changing its configuration then snapping it back into place.
Capitalizing on this distraction, Zeb crouched down, fishing into the crumpled bag until his fingers wrapped around the warm planes of the meteorite. It didn't glow quite as bright as it had on Bahryn, and with a fraction of the warmth, but it was whole, and back where it belonged.
Zeb was snapped back into the moment by the clatter of Kallus' newly returned bo-rifle clattering to the deck. His golden eyes were wide and fixed solely on the rock resting in Zeb's hands. He held it out, resting in his upward-facing palms, and without hesitation, Kallus stepped forward and covered it with his hands.
"You kept it."
It was the fact that had kept Zeb hoping, ever since he'd found out. Kallus had kept the meteor.
"It reminded me of you," Kallus said, eyes rising from their hands joined around the meteor to meet Zeb's.
"It reminds me of us," Zeb returns, bending slightly, bowing his head, closing his eyes, an invitation. An invitation the lasat knows full well the human may not understand or accept.
Less than a moment and there was the firm press of Kallus' forehead against his, the ghost of breath mingling just out of reach. "Us."
They stood like this for what felt like a long while, forehead to forehead, warmth of the meteorite held between them. Zeb knew there were words they needed to be saying, feelings that needed expression beyond this gesture. That would come soon, they'd carve out some time for privacy to talk, but for now, they had this.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“A sensitivity to the Force doesn’t just come out of nowhere,” he says. “It’s something that you’re born with.“
Prompts for Sunday, May 3, 2020: Force sensitive Kallus - adopting
Surprise guests in this chapter! Also, I lied again, it’s not just 3 chapters. It should just be one more after this, but I understand if you don’t trust me anymore.
