DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. So please don't sue!
Carth awoke with a smile on his face. It took him barely a moment to register that he was in a warm bed, not some hard regulation bunk on some ship. The warm Telosian sun had risen several hours ago, but for once he enjoyed the opportunity to sleep in. The life of a career soldier was filled with trials–one learned to enjoy the small things when they came along.
His smile faded marginally when he realized that he was alone in the bed. The smell that came to him from the kitchen though told him where his partner had gone. His stomach growled in response and he decided that maybe it was time to get up. He stretched and then sighed contentedly, deliberately taking his time. He slowly rolled out of bed and pulled on the pants and robe that had been hastily thrown on the floor last night before he moved from the bedroom.
Carth quietly walked down the hallway in his bare feet, taking a moment to pause at each window he passed. It was a routine he had managed to keep up whenever he was home on leave: looking out each window to enjoy the effects of the morning on Telos. It was the simple moments such as those that kept him going at times. . .it reminded him of the smaller things they fought for each day.
Soon enough, he came to the kitchen and hovered in the doorway, smiling. His wife stood with her back to him, cooking something for breakfast. She was quietly humming to herself, her bare feet tapping a rhythm that existed only in her mind. Her blonde hair had worked itself free of its band and swayed with the movement of her body. Another part of Carth's routine was wondering just how such a beautiful woman could choose to love him.
He moved forward and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "I don't like waking up without you," he murmured in her ear.
Morgana smiled and leaned back against him, resting her hands over his own. "Someone has to get breakfast ready. Besides, if I had waited until you had woken up, I never would have left that bed."
Carth growled deep in his throat as his lips trailed down her neck. "I see nothing wrong with that."
Morgana closed her eyes and let him continue his torture of her for a few more moments. She eventually got the strength to pull away from him, breaking the contact between his lips and her skin. "Breakfast is going to burn if you keep that up."
The Republic pilot chuckled, but placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "I think I could manage with that."
His wife rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the food in front of her. "Maybe if we were the only one's eating, but we do have someone else to think about."
As if summoned, their boisterous five-year-old son came bounding into the kitchen, a grin plastered across his face. "Morning Mommy, Daddy!"
Carth grinned and caught his son, tossing him in the air before settling the boy on his hip. "Morning Dustball," he said, kissing the boy's forehead. "Did you sleep well?"
Dustil nodded vigorously. He craned his neck to see what his mother was doing. "What are you making Mommy?"
"I'm making Crelot eggs for your father," she answered, leaning over to kiss her son. "They're his favorite."
Dustil looked at the eggs warily, unsure about something he hadn't tried before. He quickly shrugged before turning back to his father. "Can we work on the speeder today Daddy?"
The pilot nodded, his smile growing wider. "We can do anything you want." Dustil clapped his hands and Carth felt his heart swell like it did every time he thought of his son. He was truly blessed with an amazing wife and a wonderful son. He could ask for nothing more than the family he already had.
Dustil started squirming and Carth was forced to put him down. Once on the floor, Dustil pulled persistently on Morgana's robe. She knelt down and Carth watched in amusement as their son whispered something into her ear. Morgana shook her head. "Can't you wait until after breakfast at least?"
Carth had to bite his lip to keep from laughing when Dustil's eyes widened and a small pout came across his lips. Morgana had said many times that she was powerless against what she called "the Onasi eyes". She sighed and then nodded, smiling. "Alright. Go get it."
Dustil grinned. He turned to Carth and pointed imperiously at one of the kitchen chairs. "You need to sit down Daddy." Carth raised an eyebrow at Morgana who now appeared hard pressed not to laugh. Small hands pushing against his legs herded him over and he found himself sitting, watching his son scurry out of the kitchen.
"What is going on?" he asked, his curiosity peaked. "What is he getting?"
Morgana shook her head. "He'll tell you. All I can say is be nice."
Carth frowned, wondering what that was supposed to mean. But then Dustil was running back into the kitchen, carrying a brightly wrapped box that was a little too big for him to handle. He stopped before his father and held the box out to him.
Carth took it gingerly, clearly surprised. He reached forward and hauled Dustil up to sit on his knee while he theatrically shook the box. "What is this for?"
"We missed your birthday!" Dustil said happily. "So you get your gift now!"
Carth looked up at Morgana, who was watching the whole thing with a smile on her face. "He wanted to wait to give it to you in person," she explained. "He picked it out himself."
The pilot shook it again, figuring that it was some type of clothing. "Well, I wonder what it is! Do you think you can help me unwrap it?"
Dustil grinned and suddenly small fingers were tearing at the wrapping paper, shredding it to bits. Carth laughed and opened the box once it had been throughly divested of its bright covering. His eyes widened when he saw what was inside. It was a brand new flight jacket.
And it was hideous.
Discarding the box, he lifted the jacket up to inspect it. It was actually a very nice piece of work, well made and certainly one of the more expensive ones. But it was a particularly grotesque shade of orange that made him cringe. He looked up at Morgana who held a hand over her mouth, her green eyes laughing.
"What do you think Daddy?" Dustil asked, anxious for his opinion.
Carth swallowed his shock and plastered a large smile on his face. "I love it Dustball."
"And you know why I picked this color?" Carth shook his head, completely unable to fathom why. "Because all of the other soldiers have boring colors. This way, I can always find you in a crowd!"
Carth stared at the jacket, realizing just how much he was going to stick out. But then he looked at Dustil's face and he suddenly didn't think it was that bad. He wrapped his son in a hug, closing his eyes when he felt the small arms go around his neck. "I'll wear it all the time so you can always find me."
Dustil kissed his father's cheek and then pulled away. He jumped off Carth's lap and ran over to Morgana, kicking the wrapping paper across the floor as he did. "I'm hungry!"
"Go wash your hands first," she said, gently pushing him towards the fresher. As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Morgana came over and picked the jacket up, inspecting it herself. "It is rather. . .bright, isn't it?"
Carth laughed and shook his head. "I will definitely be the only person with that color." He gently pulled his wife down to sit on his lap. He rested his chin on her shoulder, watching her fingers run over the orange leather. "I could see it growing on me though."
Morgana twisted her head to look at him incredulously. "Really?"
Carth smiled. "It was a gift from my family–that's all the reason I need to love it."
Dustil came bounding back into the kitchen at that point, ready for food. And at his son's insistence, Carth wore the jacket for the first time.
Carth sighed and smiled as he shrugged on his jacket. He always remembered the moment that Dustil had handed him that box, as well as his horror upon seeing what was inside. Yet he had unflinchingly worn it since that day until he couldn't imagine being without it.
The jacket itself was well worn and had certainly seen better days. The right sleeve was singed from being too close to an exploding console years ago. The brown collar was stained dark with blood; the result of a deep wound on his neck that had nearly cost him his life. The inside pockets still had a gritty feel to them, even years after a seven-year-old Dustil had decided to fill them with sand. The back of the jacket had been sliced open by a vibroblade, barely missing his back. A small row of stitches kept the two pieces together, done by Morgana's hand.
Carth smoothed out the material and brushed some invisible dust from his sleeves. Logic would say to get a new jacket–one that wasn't dirty and patched up. But that would mean throwing out a piece of his life and all the memories that went with it. The jacket, hideous coloring and all, was a part of him and his most treasured gift.
He glanced at his chrono and quickly headed out the door, running to meet the incoming transport. There was another reason he wore the jacket that day: it simply made it easier for Dustil to pick him out of a crowd.
AN: Hope you all enjoyed this piece, originally written for the challenge over at kotorfanmedia. I figure, Carth's jacket just has to have a story behind it! So, thank you to every person that has reviewed my past stories. And also thanks to everyone at KFM that has reviewed this, I appreciate everyone's comments! I'm going to try and make use of the review reply button and see how that works. I'm also curious, would anybody be interested in reading some oneshots concerning Carth and Morgana? I really liked writing her and I feel like she simply isn't done justice in fics. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed this, so let me know what you thought, good and bad! Hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy Holidays!