I. A Parting: Thrawn/Car'das
"I'll miss you," Car'das says before he can stop himself and he can feel his cheeks heating up in embarrassment at how heartbroken he sounds. It's the truth though. He really is going to miss the Commander, probably just a bit more than a healthy friendship would allow for.
Thrawn smiles back and Car'das can't help but relax as relief floods through him. "I'm going to miss you as well, Jorj."
And damn it, his name coming from those lips should not sound that good. Car'das sighs, knowing that this may be the last time he gets to hear Thrawn. May be the last time he gets to see Thrawn at all. That hurts deeper than it should, but Car'das knew that this would happen. That he was already too far gone down this path the moment his heart fluttered when the Commander called him 'intriguing' so long ago. He doesn't want to leave Thrawn, but he has to.
But he'll he damned to hell and back before he leaves him on such a weak note as 'I'll miss you'.
He's moving before he can change his mind, his hands moving to cup Thrawn's face. Thrawn's eyebrows rise and his lips part to say something but it's too late and Car'das already has their lips shoved together and- shit this looked so much more elegant in his head.
He doesn't have time to think about the many techniques of kissing before a hand moves onto his shoulder and Car'das suddenly panics because he's convinced that he made a mistake and now Thrawn was going to snap his neck. But instead of sudden death Car'das feels Thrawn's hand sliding up his neck and tangling into his hair, holding him still while Thrawn finally begins kissing back. Car'das can't stop the moan that bubbles up from his chest or the way he arches against the hard body in front of him when another hand wraps around his waist before dipping lower, fingers digging into his pants as Thrawn grabs a handful of his ass.
Then it's over. Thrawn pulls away from him and Car'das is glad to see that he isn't the only one panting before his eyes settle on the annoyed glare Thrawn is giving him. Lifting the hand that was on his ass just moments before Thrawn points a finger at him and growls, "Do not ever surprise me like that again."
Car'das swallows, trying not to flinch away from the intensity of Thrawn's eyes. "I'm sorry," he says, but Thrawn's expression has already softened and he's barely able to get the words out before he's pressing their lips together again.
This time the kiss is soft and almost delicate but it's has Car'das's toes curling in his boots, a soft moan escaping him as Thrawn pulls away, nipping at his bottom lip.
"I'm going to miss you," Car'das repeats, and this time Thrawn's smile is a bit wider.
"You know exactly where to find me, Jorj."
II. Post Traumatic: Thrawn/Pellaeon
When the nightmares begin it is best to wake Thrawn up as gently and quickly as possible. They are not always easy to notice, but believe me, the signs are easy to spot once you know what to look for.
A sudden change of breathing pattern, abrupt fidgeting, or a few muttered words are the usual signs though there could be more.
If any of this occurs, wake the Admiral up. Immediately. I cannot stress to you enough how important that is. It is equally important to know how to do so properly. A gentle hand and a few words should be enough- he is still a military man, disorder or not, so he's a light sleeper.
Never, under any circumstances, try to wake him up from behind. Always do so from his front side where he can clearly see you upon awakening. To do otherwise may startle him and could lead to injury, and I don't mean he's going to be the one getting injured.
Pellaeon glared down at the other officer. "If you have to wake him up state your name and rank, then immediately contact me via comlink. I do not care what time it is, you contact me. Even if he is just acting odd while he is working, you get me in touch with him. He will want to talk with someone after any sort of panic attack, even if he insists he is fine." Pellaeon paused, trying to figure out what the other man was thinking. "I'm placing an unfathomable amount of trust in you, Lieutenant. Do you think you can handle this while I am gone?"
The officer snapped to attention, looking serious despite the tension in his face as he confirmed what Pellaeon was already sure of.
With a nod Pellaeon turned away from the other and started making his way back towards the officer's quarters. Thrawn was waiting on him, and while the Admiral would never admit it, he hated being left by himself. Which is why the Captain also assigned two more officers and half of a stormtrooper unit on Thrawn duty.
Two days was his limit for this trip, and if he couldn't comfort Thrawn in person for that duration if time, he would make damn well sure that others would be there to help Thrawn in his absence.
III. Homecoming: Thrawn/Pellaeon, Luke, Han
Han stared in the bottom of his glass with a frown as Luke asked the Commander another question. He had just emptied it of a very nice brandy and was debating if he wanted to refill his glass.
He wanted a refill of course, but he also didn't want to break the storytelling going on between the other two at the table.
Not that it was anything substantial. Luke was just asking the Commander about the Grand Admiral's return that happened a few years back. The real Grand Admiral. Who somehow survived being stabbed through the chest and decided to come back a few short months after the treaty between the New Republic and the Empire had taken place.
Yeah. Nothing too serious.
With a sigh Han set his glass down on the table as quietly as he could. It had been quite a shock to see that face again. An even bigger shock when he immediately resigned as Grand Admiral, leaving everything to his one time subordinate. Apparently something happened between Pellaeon and Thrawn afterwards though, because a few days later the Commander had employed the former Admiral as his personal advisor.
It had been a weird few weeks for everyone during all of that.
Han frowned, listening to Pellaeon's telling of how Thrawn came back. The alien had went to his allies first and then allowed them to bring him into the new alliance with careful words and actions. Pellaeon hadn't let anyone touch Thrawn no matter how bloodthirsty the demands got. And truth be told, the old Imperial had gotten just as bloodthirsty back when the demands had turned into threats.
Old man had some fire in him, Han had to admit.
He respected that. Hell, Han liked that. Despite his admiration of the older man, he could never quite look his alien comrade in the eye without glaring. Not after the threats to his family. To his children.
Luke on the other hand was fairly comfortable around both of the old Imperials. Even Leia was polite, despite everything. Probably a Jedi thing.
There did seem to be a private joke between the siblings that Han was never let in on concerning Thrawn and Pellaeon. Based on what remarks they did give Han, it probably had something to do with how close the two Imperials seemed or be. Or that one time he had knocked on the Commander's door to ask him where blue alien was when the former Admiral himself answered the door, looking bedraggled with a flustered and under-dressed Pellaeon standing behind him.
Not that that was a thought he wanted to follow to its conclusion.
With a sigh that earned him a glance from Luke Han finally picked the brandy bottle up and poured himself another glass.
Luke continued, looking back at Pellaeon. "So what did you do after you realized it really was Thrawn?"
The older man paused, taking a long swallow of his own drink before answering. "I believe I did what any Corellian in my position would do," Pellaeon said with a fond smile. "I hit him square in the mouth."
Luke's eyebrows shot up and Han smirked.
Thrawn might be an issue for a while but he could definitely grow to like Pellaeon.
IV. And Back Again: Thrawn, Thrass
"Is that him?"
"Yes."
Thrawn can't help but smile a little as he answers the question, watching Pellaeon from across the bridge as the man orders the crew through another drill.
Thrass snorts quietly as he stirs the stout smelling liquid in his cup. "I don't like him."
Thrawn's smile disappears and he turns his head to glare at his brother. "You never do."
Taking a sip from his cup, Thrass makes an indifferent sound in the back of his throat. "You sound surprised. I don't know why."
It's Thrawn's turn to snort. "I suppose I always assumed you would just be happy to see me happy." He looks back to Pellaeon, who is frowning at the too slow crew. "You liked Car'das well enough."
It satisfies him, the way Thrass chokes just a bit when he says that. "I believe you are confusing adoration with tolerance, Thrawn." He sighs, following Thrawn's gaze to the human. "I have never understood your tastes in them. I am however, pleased that your tastes matured with you."
"I'm so glad you approve."
"Yes because your life had always been about pleasing others, hadn't it?" Thrass deadpans.
Thrawn had never realized he had missed this so much. Just bantering with his brother. It feels incredibly good after so long.
"Do you think you would have liked him?"
Thrass pauses, thinking. "I suppose I could have, given time. I'd approve of him more than I would of that Parck man."
"You haven't even seen Voss," Thrawn says, exasperation seeping into his tone.
Thrass shrugs noncommittally. "And from what you have told me of him I can tell you that I don't like him."
"Of course you don't." Thrawn mutters and it's then that Thrass finally smiles.
"You know you're happy to see me again," Thrass says and Thrawn watches as he lets go of his glass, the cup disappearing as if it never existed. Maybe it didn't. He still hasn't quite figured everything out yet.
"I am, though I could do without your constant vigilance. I am the older one now after all, I can take care of myself."
Thrass makes a sound that Thrawn can only describe as a the Chiss version of a scoff. "Maybe before, but I have been here longer so I am still the eldest."
"Afterlife years don't count, Thrass."
"I can assure you, they do."
Thrawn smiles again as Thrass silently fumes, though no one else would have been able to see his dark mood. He's missed this and despite his failure clinging to him, having his brother back makes all of this so much more bearable.
V. All that Matters: Thrawn/Pellaeon
The room is excessively cold when Pellaeon enters it, making him wonder if it was always like this or if it was the lack of an occupant that had the temperature so low. He tries not to think about it too hard. He's been doing that a lot lately.
He shuts the door behind him, letting the room go dark around him as the light spilling in from the hallway is cut off. It's comforting for a few moment, until the blackness becomes suffocating, cutting all of his senses off, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Quickly, his hand finds a control panel and he presses the first button he finds. The lights flicker on, dim and cold. Somehow it's more smothering than the darkness.
He wants to leave.
Pellaeon wants to storm out of the room, lock the door behind himself, and never allow another breathing creature into this room for the rest of its existence.
He can't though.
That would be a mistake. Or an error? One of the two.
It would raise questions among the crew. This task had fallen to him, and as agonizing as it was to just be standing here, he has to do it. He would die before he let some clueless lieutenant come in here. That didn't make it hurt any less. Cleaning up, going through his things, it felt as if he was disobeying some rule. He had put it off for as long as he could, as long as he dared. Deep down, Pellaeon knew that he would have disapproved of his hesitance in doing this, that such a task should be simple and done as swiftly and efficiently as possible.
And he would be right.
He was always right.
"Except when it counted."
Pellaeon hates how he spits the words out, hates how they sound and apologizes. He didn't deserve that. If it could have been avoided then it would have been. He would never abandon the Empire. Would never abandon him.
He forces himself to move, heading towards the work desk first. He knows that it's the best place to begin.
He isn't even halfway across the room when he stops.
This is harder than he anticipated. "I'd leave it all alone if I could."
The talking is a new habit and it helps. It's comforting. Pellaeon would never dare do it in front of another being, but when he's alone he likes to tell the other his thoughts on the day, discuss battle plans with him, tell him things he would never have dared say in person. It helps a lot.
He likes to imagine that he can listen from where he is, can hear every word his Captain is telling him. His outward calm breaks just a little, a twitch of the firm line of his lips and he closes his eyes.
Admiral. Supreme Commander. That's what he is now. He knows that he should begin calling himself that, even if it's just in his head, but he can't. Not while talking to him. It feels wrong. Like he's replacing him.
"It should have been anyone else." He tries to stay composed, but the neutral mask he wears for the crew is slipping. Falling apart. He presses a hand to the side of his face, shoulders shaking as he fights the tears. "It should have been me."
The notion is ridiculous and Pellaeon can only imagine the other man's reaction, but Pellaeon knows that he would have traded lives with the other in a heartbeat if he could have. "It-"
He feels bile rising in his throat and he is at the work desk in a second, sitting down in the chair near it, trying to get control over himself.
He can't.
He cried at the funeral and afterwards, but when everyone else stopped openly mounting so had he. He was their new fearless leader, who had worked directly under a genius, who would follow in his commander's footsteps. He bottled it up. Compartmentalized. Repressed.
Woke up with a wet pillow on more than one occasion.
He buries his face in his hands and sobs. He tries to speak a few times and fails, eventually giving up. A thousand things swell up into his head, an apology being one of them at the forefront.
"I-I love you."
It's not what he meant to say. He wants to apologize for his emotions. Apologize for putting off the clean up. Apologize for not being able to save him.
Apologize for never telling him.
"I love you. So damn much."
Never saying a word about it to him.
"You're not even here and I-"
It's not what he meant to say.
"I still love you."
But he means it.
