A/N: Fun fact. My little brother and I are almost exactly the same age as late season one Ezra and Hera, though we bicker much more like Ezra and Sabine. This fic was inspired by my brother bugging me about all my "stupid makeup stuff" in the bathroom we share. Enjoy.

Girl Stuff

Sabine sat in the floor in the middle of the common room, her entire collection of cosmetics and hair dye spread out around her. Ezra was sprawled on his stomach nearby, childlike, lazily using the Force to pick up and examine Sabine's things.

Three different brushes, whose intended purpose Ezra could only guess, hovered in front of him, bobbing along with his concentration. "I had no idea you have so much stuff."

"That's because I keep my stuff and my room organized, unlike you and Zeb."

The Lasat, playing a solo game of dejarik, shrugged nonchalantly. But Ezra couldn't let the dig pass. "We keep our room organized," he said defensively. The brushes thumped softly to the floor and rolled back toward Sabine.

She rolled her eyes. "If your idea of 'organized' is for it to look like a junk heap, maybe."

Ezra's eyes narrowed. "It's our own kind of organized. You wouldn't understand."

"Thankfully," she snorted. "You're lucky Hera hasn't seen it lately. Now look." She deftly changed the subject, holding up two small bottles. "What do we think of these colors?"

"Uhhhh, they're bright?" He stared at the bottles, not at all sure what they were except that one was violently yellow and the other violently blue. "What is that stuff? Paint?"

"Nail polish," she sighed, despairing his ignorance.

His eyes widened in surprise. "You paint your nails?"

She crossed her arms. "Don't act so surprised. I paint literally everything else; why wouldn't I paint my nails?"

Ezra stuck out his lower lip poutily, cornered by her logic. "Weeeeeeeelllll," he faltered, drawing out the word, trying to buy himself some time to think. "For starters, you're always wearing gloves!" A triumphant finger stabbed the air.

"To work in," Sabine countered, "not to cover up. Have you ever tried handling explosives with sweaty palms?"

"Uh, no."

Her head cocked to one side. "That's because it would be stupid, even for you. Imagine Hera trying to pilot the Ghost with clammy fingers slipping all over the controls. We'd all be dead."

"Fair point," Ezra conceded grudgingly. Then he gasped, taken aback. "Wait—does Hera paint her nails, too?"

Sabine held up one finger. "Hey, Hera," she called.

"What's up?" Hera answered from the galley.

"What's the name of that nail polish you got last week, the blue one?"

A moment later, Hera leaned in the galley doorway. "Mm, it was called 'Nubian Queen,' I think. Why?"

"Did you end up using it?" Sabine asked innocently. "I was curious about how it looks out of the bottle. Might want to borrow."

"It's been wearing well," Hera said, walking into the common room. She took off her gloves, tucking them under her arm, and held out her slender hands for Sabine to examine. Her nails, meticulously shaped into perfect ovals, were coated in a subtly shimmering sea-blue. "Two coats, five days old, no chips. You're more than welcome to use it."

"Nice," Sabine said, nodding. She smiled up at Hera and then winked at Ezra, who was sitting open-mouthed, staring. "Thanks."

Hera's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as her gaze shifted between the two teenagers at her feet. Sabine was surveying her own nail polish collection again, but Ezra's eyes were stuck on Hera's hands.

"Ezra," she said, mock-serious, "if you want to borrow it, too, all you have to do is ask."

"Thanks," he answered absently, still studying her hands.

Zeb looked up from the dejarik table, disgusted. "If he paid as much attention to Kanan's teaching as he is to your manicure, he'd be a proper Jedi by now."

Ezra's head snapped in Zeb's direction. "Hey, Zeb," he sneered, "shut up."

Hera rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning to leave. As she passed, she bent at the waist and picked up a small vial near Sabine's foot. "This the lotion you picked up on Lothal?"

"Uh huh. You can have it if you liked it. It made my skin itch."

"That's too bad! It smells divine."

Ezra watched, fascinated, as Hera unscrewed the cap and gently tapped the vial against the palm of her hand. A dollop of smooth, lavender-colored cream plopped out. She tucked the vial under her arm along with her gloves and gingerly pulled her sleeves up to her elbows. Walking back to the galley, she started rubbing the lotion all over her arms and hands.

"What does that stuff do?" Ezra asked in a whisper.

Sabine sat forward and flicked his ear. "Don't you know anything?"

"Learning about all the different kinds of girl cream wasn't part of my routine when I was growing up on the streets of Lothal." His expression was deadpan.

She huffed impatiently. "That's lotion. It's supposed to moisturize your skin."

"But it made yours itch?"

"Guess I was allergic."

"Huh."

Sabine cocked her head to one side questioningly. "Why is this weirding you out so much?" Her face softened. "Didn't your mom use any of this stuff?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, searching his memory. "Yeah," he said slowly, "she did. But that's different. Moms are supposed to use that kind of stuff."

"Karabast," Zeb interjected from across the room, shaking his head. "Now you've done it."

"Different?" Sabine repeated hotly, piqued. "Aaaand why is it weird for me and Hera to use lotion and nail polish?"

"I dunno," he hedged, running a hand through his hair. "It's just so…so…"

"So what?" Sabine's eyebrows arched high.

"Quit while you're ahead, kid, please." Zeb mumbled under his breath.

But Ezra blurted out, "It's so girly!"

Sabine made an aggravated noise. "Did you think Hera and I weren't girls?"

Ezra couldn't get his foot out of his mouth fast enough. "Well, no—"

Mercilessly, Sabine ran her hands along the curves of her trim waist and hips. "Because the last time I checked—"

"Alright!" He interrupted, pink heat creeping up his cheeks. "That's not what I meant. It's just, you like to blow stuff up. Most girls don't like to blow stuff up."

"And most Jedi know how to actually use their lightsabers correctly," she retorted, a taunting edge to her voice, "but here we are." She shook her head and turned her attention to sorting through the things in front of her. "You're such a child sometimes."

Ezra glared, not sure which insult to address. "You know I'm, like, only a year younger than you, right?"

Sabine burst out laughing, much to his chagrin. "It must have been a reeeeally long year!"

"Whatever."

Ezra's attitude was sour, but he stayed in the floor and watched as Sabine went through her cosmetics, deciding which to keep and which to throw away. She had bested him in this round of verbal sparring, but he knew he could redeem some scrap of pride by taking every opportunity to annoy her as she worked.

"What's this?" He picked up a compact and opened it.

"That's bronzer."

"What for?"

Sabine snatched it out of his hand. "These cheekbones won't chisel themselves."

"Right," he said, as if he had a clue what she meant. He suspected she was mocking him. He got on his hands and knees and crawled over to look directly in her face. She swatted him away, but he didn't move. "But there's nothing on your face that looks even a little bit bronze," he insisted.

"Oh, for kriff's sake," Sabine muttered. She scooted back, eyes flashing. "It's not actually bro—okay, you know what?" She took a breath to steady her temper. "Either shut up or leave."

"Fine," he said, plopping into a cross-legged position. He was able to keep his mouth shut for a total of two minutes. Sabine started putting everything away and a tiny glass jar caught his eye. "What's this one for?"

Sabine visibly bristled, but she kept most of the irritation out of her voice when she answered, "It's a lip scrub."

Ezra's face scrunched in confusion. "A what?"

"It exfoliates."

"In Basic, please."

"It makes my lips 'kissably soft!'" Sabine half-shouted, patience gone. She was quoting the product packaging, but Ezra didn't know that. His eyes widened into moons.

"'Kissably soft!'" He sputtered. "For who?"

Her things neatly comported into three large zippered pouches, Sabine pushed up out of the floor and turned on her heel, heading for her room. "Need to know," she said breezily, tossing her head.

Zeb's raspy laugh echoed in the common room as Sabine left. "She's toying with you, kid. You understand that, right?"

"Obviously," Ezra said with as much bravado as he could. He sat in the floor for a moment, thinking. Suddenly, he scrambled up and ran over to Zeb, leaning over the dejarik table.

"Hey, Zeb," he whispered, looking over both shoulders, "do you think Hera uses a thing to keep her lips 'kissably soft?'"

Zeb rolled his eyes. "Karabast, how would I know?" His tone conveyed both annoyance and idle curiosity. Then he chortled. "Guess you'd have to ask Kanan."

Ezra's face fell. "Okay, eew."