(For OC Kiss Week: day #1- first kiss.
We've seen this already, of course. Here's Theron's POV.)
First Kiss
Bad enough that he can't even carry his own gear, ribs still spiking pain through his body with every breath and his shattered fingers bandaged together, head swimming even with the painkillers almost out of his system. Bad enough that he pretty much just told her half his life story without even meaning to.
But now Cipher Nine's sitting down next to him, side by side on the sagging cot as he packs his last few tools into their kit, and his heart's pounding like he's been running for hours-
Just tired. Tired and hurting and keyed-up after a very long few days.
Nothing to do with her. Definitely not. No way.
She starts to stand up from her place beside him on the cot, lifting his overloaded satchel- he's down a change of clothing after his run-in with Revan but she'd insisted he take most of the extra medical supplies (you need them more than I do, she'd said, and the way his head throbbed he couldn't help but agree). "Oof- heavy. What've you got in here, bricks?"
"Only a dozen or so," Theron says. He knows her tone well enough now to know she's teasing him, one of her favorite recently-acquired hobbies, and she only grumbles a little when the buckle comes unfastened and drags her back down to sit. "And all your extra ration bars. I might need a snack later, after the kolto tank and the lecture."
He can only hope the kolto tank comes first. Emotionless as Jedi were supposed to be, he could feel the disappointment radiating off Satele in waves when she'd walked into the safehouse, and he'd bet good credits that he's got a conference call with Marcus in his future- and fuck, if Satele pulls Jace into it-
Her laugh brings him back to himself.
"You can keep them. I've got crates of them back on my ship. So the food wasn't all bad, then- any other bright spots?"
Her attention's focused on the slipped strap dangling off her shoulder- it's always been finicky and the buckle goes crooked on her when she tries to thread it back through; the tip of her tongue peeks out as she tries again and then a third time, her irritation more obvious, her teeth sinking into one side of her lower lip.
Is he staring? He's probably staring.
He knows the trick to his old satchel by heart and reaches across to help her, looping the buckle back through, still watching her face, the way the scar running crossways across her cheek pulls a little when she smiles as he slips the refastened strap up onto her shoulder, the corners of her eyes-
He's definitely staring. Shit, shit, shit, what's wrong with you, Shan, pull it together-
Oh, fuck it.
"I can think of one," he says, which might be the actual worst pickup line in the history of the galaxy.
(Then again, he's guessing he's got about even odds of this working versus those being the last five words he ever says to anyone before Cipher Nine, Ghost of the Empire, knifes him to death for trying to make a move on her.
He is almost sure it would be worth it.)
She glances up when his hand goes still, resting on her shoulder. Her eyes meet his and for a second she doesn't move; he thinks she's going to- he's not sure what, dodge him or push him away or say something, anything- but then her expression softens, pupils huge and dark in the harsh fluorescent light overhead.
This is the worst idea he's ever had.
He leans in and kisses her-
-and oh, Force, she kisses him back.