A/N: Shameless fluff.
Date Night
Not for the first time, Sabine wished she hadn't cut her hair so short. For one thing, she was immensely curious about how it might feel to have Ezra's fingers tangled up in longer strands. For another, maybe if she had hair covering or brushing her shoulders, she wouldn't feel so naked right now.
She hated this dress.
Though, to be fair, wearing it had been more or less her idea. She wanted to do ordinary things, she'd said. So when Ezra responded by bashfully asking if she wanted to spend an evening out, she said yes quickly and without stopping to consider she'd never had an evening out with anyone ever and that maybe it was absurd to start now. Still, the idea of doing something like this with Ezra was oddly thrilling and romantic and she did want to see the look on his face when he saw her all dressed up—but she still felt violently uncomfortable.
She was wearing more makeup than she ever had, and while she wasn't displeased with the effect, she was already anxious to scrub her face clean. She'd applied a shimmery gold shade of eyeshadow on her lids, working a thin layer of black into the creases. That was accompanied by generous swipes of eyeliner and mascara. The black perfectly complimented the amber of her eyes and created an alluring effect. She swept a mauve-tinted rouge over her cheekbones and added a sheer gloss to her lips. She dabbed perfume behind her ears and fiddled with her bangs and then stepped back from the mirror to evaluate. Every bit of this—the cosmetics, the black, off-the-shoulder dress, the flat-heeled shoes—was left over from a reception she'd gotten roped into attending with Hera two years ago. She'd hated it as much then as now—though Ezra's awed gaze went a long way toward making up for that.
Until he blurted: "You look so…small."
Feminine. What he'd meant to say was that she looked feminine and lovely and spellbinding in that simple dress—but all his mind could spit out was "small."
What the actual kriff?
Her flat stare made him want to crawl in a hole and die there, but the amused twitch of her lips told him the evening wasn't ruined yet. Not trusting himself to speak again, he kissed her temple and he took her by the hand and they walked to the speeder. She let him drive, smoothing her skirt over her lap as she settled in.
"Hey," he said suddenly, "are you carrying?"
She turned in her seat so he could see her frown. "Have you ever known me to go anywhere unarmed?"
"Well…no." He eyed her critically. "But where—"
Her raised eyebrows interrupted him.
He swallowed. "Oh."
They'd taken walks through Capital City before this, but doing it now, after sundown when the city lights were reflected in Ezra's eyes—Sabine felt as though she'd never seen the place before. Something stirred in her as she watched him re-learn his home, equal parts sadness and excitement. The sadness came from knowing he hated having been gone for so long. The excitement came from getting to share Lothal with him now and forever. The pinching pain inflicted by her shoes was worth every bit worth seeing Ezra as he stood in the street and turning in a circle, face tipped toward the clear night sky.
But when they sat down to dinner, she started to change her mind about the whole evening; the shoes came off under the table.
Ezra's collar felt incredibly tight and the room incredibly warm. He fumbled to undo his shirt's topmost button and then he reached for his water. He knocked it over, of course, water and ice cascading over the table and dripping off the edge, no doubt falling into Sabine's lap.
She didn't even flinch.
Her gaze was leveled at him and it was scary.
She ran her tongue over her teeth and made a sucking sound before she dropped her chin a few centimeters and clasped her hands primly on the soaking-wet tabletop. "What?"
"Sabine, what I meant—"
"Did you really just ask me if I was involved with anyone while I was here on Lothal waiting for you?"
He had, in fact, asked just that. And it had, of course, left his mouth in the most asinine and convoluted way possible. What he wanted to hear was some kind of assurance that she hadn't been lonely all that time because honestly, he wouldn't have wanted that for her. He hadn't meant to say anything that would put that look in her eyes, the one that told him something inside was aching.
"Ezra." His name was little more than a hiss. Then she took a deep breath and pushed back from the table. "You know what? We don't need to order dinner. I already know you have the culinary tastes of a five-year-old. We're done here."
He watched, dumbfounded and breathless, as she stood up and walked away. Her hips were swaying and that dress was swinging around her calves and it was insanely attractive—and she was barefoot.
"Sabine, wait!"
Ezra was scampering behind her, trying to catch up, and she didn't turn around. Whatever indignation she'd felt just moments earlier was quickly dissolving, embarrassment taking its place. She'd gotten halfway out of the restaurant before she realized she didn't have her shoes on. Good riddance, anyway; they hurt and her feet had the painful, red indentations to prove it. But kark—what a scene she must have made.
And why?
She'd felt herself coming undone under Ezra's steady, loving gaze, that's why. All she'd wanted to do was reach across the table and just take him in her arms—and then she'd remembered she was in this stupid dress and she'd really just rather be in her bodysuit and armor, and there were too many other people around, and the room was hot—
And so she'd snapped at him when he very innocently asked if she'd had any paramours in his absence. There had been no trace of accusation or jealousy in his voice. Only open curiosity and she didn't know why that kriffing bothered her—
"Did you?" She demanded suddenly, whirling around to face him. He nearly collided with her and she took a step back, bumping into their parked speeder. She put a hand to his chest, intending to create space between them, but he caught it with one of his and held it there.
"Did I what?" She could tell it was taking some effort, but he kept his voice even.
She looked away. "Get—involved with anyone?"
His expression softened. "You're—you're my girl," he mumbled shyly. "Always have been. From the very first day on the Ghost."
Sabine drew a long breath, relieved to hear that and aggravated with herself for having been irrationally jealous. She looked up at him. "I don't wanna do this, Ezra."
His panic was clear in the way his face completely drained of color.
"This." She rephrased quickly, yanking on his collar. She popped two more shirt buttons open, brushing her fingers on the exposed skin perhaps unnecessarily. "It's not us. Remember the first time we ever hung out just the two of us? We were painting a TIE fighter you stole."
"Yeah," he said with a slow grin. "I remember."
"So let's go. Let's do something else."
He drove them well past the tower and when he pulled the speeder to a stop on Lothal's empty plain, they both breathed a sigh of relief. Sabine twisted an arm behind her, yanking on her dress's zipper. The shoulders fell even looser than before, coming halfway down her arms. She reclined her seat and threw her legs up on the dash, crossing them at the ankles. Her skirt fell back quite a way, revealing the tightly-fitted shorts she was wearing—and the vibro-blade strapped thereto. Ezra laughed.
"You looked beautiful before," he said, "but I like this, too."
She pretended to glare at him. "You couldn't have led with that first part earlier tonight?"
"I got a little tongue-tied."
"You were barely speaking Basic."
He shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"
She hummed. "Say you love me."
"Sabine, I love you."
They fell quiet, Sabine looking at the stars and Ezra looking at Sabine. Grass rustled in the soft wind and for hours and hours, they sat there in the speeder, fingers twined, talking or not. It ended up being the perfect evening out.
It was a long time before they attempted a dress-up dinner again.
