There were days he hated. Days when the Empire conducted live-fire exercises to weed out the incompetent and weak. Sure, he knew his wife would be fine but he couldn't help but worry; what if someone more skilled in lightsaber combat confronted her, what if someone stunned her and swung too fast for her to mount any kind of defense?
Andronikos wasn't a man prone to worry—he tipped odds in his favor so many times there was no reason for it. But in a world full of Force users, and with his own wife being one, well, he couldn't not worry. He didn't stand a chance against these people. The Republic's soldiers, the Empire's cannon fodder, those he could deal with, those he could fight and defeat. But put him against a Sith , and try as he might, he wouldn't win. He understood why Dan took Ashara with her so often, or that assassin droid in the back of the ship—the HK unit gave him shivers. He understood why she had left him to keep the Fury after Taris, after Hoth; they were coming up against more and more Jedi and opposing Sith, and, he guessed, she had started to care for him—heh, the rough pirate man who hitched a ride with a Sith lady to pilot her ship—and left him to guard Fury. Sure, he'd been angry the first couple of times, but when Dan came back that one time, covered in lightning burns and clothing charred by blaster bolts, yeah, he started to understand. Ashara had come back in the same condition that day, maybe even worse. But they'd come back. Whoever had done that to them hadn't gone back to their families. He wasn't even sorry for that.
So, when she comes stumbling in, night after night, too tired to do anything more than shuck her shoes and collapse into bed, Andronikos can't help but feel protective, maybe even threatened. Illogical; her foes were dead and they'd never reach him or his wife again, but threatened all the same. Those days—those days he would sit on the edge of their bed and gently tuck her in, watching her face soften in sleep. Dan looked so much younger when she relaxed, and, it wasn't often that she truly relaxed. It made him wonder if they would be able to have a family the way both of them had discussed. Yeah, he'd met her sisters; a sixteen year old 'Shadow' (Dan had explained that Senkae was an infiltrator, and he wondered how anyone could put that much pressure on a sixteen year old girl), and a twenty-five year old mercenary who was waiting for her pay and orders from the Empire (Käle was a strange woman, all in all).
Shaking his head, wondering how he had the luck to not only fall in love with a dangerous woman, but to fall for one who fell for him back. Alderaan was where it had started, for him, but… was that where it sparked for Dan? He supposed he'd never know.
His musings were interrupted by the hiss of hydraulics and boots hitting the durasteel deckplates. He knew that sound painfully well; today had not been another bad day and Dan was ready to hit the ground. Behind her trailed softer footsteps, those of an assassin, and he knew Xalek was tired enough to be heard. A smile flickered onto his face, and he shook his head. Ashara and Talos must not be back from their trip down to Dromund Kaas yet, or they'd have come in at the same time.
Sure enough, the Kaleesh stalked past the door and down to his quarters, and behind him, diverting her own path, was his wife, dark hair disheveled and blue eyes halfway closed. Boots landed in a heap by their doorway and Andronikos bounced himself off the wall by the cockpit, following her into their room. As much as he enjoyed their particular brand of bedroom roughhousing, he figured now would be a good time to just be a comfort. To curl up and play protector for just one night more.