Summary:

Pronunciation Guide for Character Names:

Raeyn [rain]

Just a few things-there is another part in here that I did not supply pronunciations or explanations for-as it is given directly after it is spoken. =o)

Just a couple of translations in this chapter, as always they are available at the bottom!


Same.

Raeyn couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face as the word washed over her anew. She shook her head as the memory faded, having passed through her mind in a moments time, she looked at Mako who was finishing the lengthy speech she'd been giving.

"…you two are meant to be together, everyone knows it and I just don't know why you are stalling, I think you are both just too nervous or something, but you can't keep doing this weird dance forever…my constitution can't possibly handle it."

"Mako," Raeyn was watching her friend's eyes widen further and further as she spoke, "breathe."

Mako drew in a deep breath, nodding, "I just really want you to be happy, both of you."

"We're 't'ad tome' now," Raeyn tried to minimize the words, helplessly smiling despite that as the Mando'a words flowed across her tongue, knowing even as she said it that it wasn't going to change the response, "It's Mandalorian for 'two together'—their term for I guess what humans call 'courting'."

Raeyn was shocked when all the glass in the room didn't burst at the decibel of scream that came out of her tiny friend. Mako had run around the corner of the bar, and was hugging her, jumping up and down in place. Raeyn lifted her hands up above their heads to avoid messing up the dough, laughing lightly.

"Sorry, sorry," Mako giggled as she backed away and moved back to her side of the counter to keep working on the spices. Raeyn dug her hands back into the dough, curious as it became less and less sticky as she worked it and more firm, eventually forming into a large, firm lump on the paper.

"There's still so much to share, every day I don't get everything poured out of me feels like I am lying to him, I don't know how to explain it all to him, but I need to, and soon," Raeyn studied the dough as she talked, not wanting to see Mako's face.

"He won't care, Raeyn," Mako stated sternly, "He's crazy about you."

Raeyn nodded, internally praying that it was that simple. Nothing about her was simple though, and she knew that this wasn't going to be easy and she felt an emotion she had rarely ever felt in her lifetime.

Fear.

"Look at you, you did it!" Raeyn jumped at Mako's squeal, looking up at her to find Mako beaming. Raeyn felt awkward and unsure because who praised her for making dough? At least the kind that you eat.

She shrugged, "It better be worth it, that's all I'm gonna say."

She stood up and went to the sink washing her hands, grabbing a towel to dry them and walked back to sit down, watching Mako take a small bit of dough and roll it in her hands.

"What are you doing to it?"

"Getting it ready for the oil, just in small bite sized portions," she glanced up to make sure Raeyn was watching and dropped the ball of dough in the oil.

Raeyn's eyes widened as the oil sputtered and cried out, the dough disturbing its normal peace, and then the dough began to grow, getting bigger from the oil. It was bright and happy. Mako dropped more dough balls in and Raeyn was consumed by the noise the oil was making, now making pattering noises of contentment about what it was doing and the dough was happy as it turned a bright golden brown, then Mako fished them out as each one turned.

She lay them on towels, a kind of assembly line prepared.

"Oh, no!" Mako exclaimed, as she turned looking around the galley, "I forgot the sweet powder!"

"The what?"

"The sweet powder. I sprinkle them with the spices and then powder them while they are hot, can you grab it out of that cabinet over there? It's the only bag in there and it's white."

Raeyn retrieved the powder from across the room, walking back to the counter. Mako pointed to an empty bowl, "Open it and put some in there."

Raeyn pulled the zipper on the bag, a little puff of white dust rising, and she had to smile as the scent hit her, something so good about it, it smelled like happiness.

She tipped the bag over the bowl and the powder rushed out. When it hit the bowl a large cloud of white powder filled the entire side of the galley. Raeyn screeched, and Mako sighed, knowing she would likely be the one to clean that up."

"What the…Mako! I am so sorry!"

Mako glanced beside her and couldn't help but laugh, as Raeyn was covered in the white sugar, "We'll clean up after, just start rolling those in the spice and then the sweet powder before they dry out or it won't stick to them!"

Raeyn reached over and picked one of the balls up and rolled it in the spice, moving quickly with her fingers moving fast as they were still rather hot, then retrieved it from the bowl to roll it in the powder, setting it on the plate Mako had set to the side of them for the finished ones.

"They smell really good," Raeyn admitted.

"They taste better!"

After all of the cooked dough had been spiced and powdered Mako quickly moved the dirty dishes to the sink and grabbed the plate of treats, "I'll deal with this mess later, c'mon!" She walked to the doorway dimming the lights a bit, then went to the other side of the room, gesturing for Raeyn to take off the apron.

Raeyn followed her across the room where they had brought all the pillows and blankets from each of their rooms and make a huge pile in the corner. They huddled down in the mass of softness, Mako reaching out to flip the switch on the projector. The first scene of their favorite movie lit up the room, and Raeyn sighed, she loved this movie.

Mako held the plate out to Raeyn, jiggling it a bit, "You first!"

Raeyn reached out and picked up one of the treats, "What are they called?"

"Sweet rolls," Mako hmmmed, sniffing deeply of the plate, "Eat one!"

Raeyn popped it into her mouth, her eyes widening and a loud groan coming from her as the taste of sweet buttery sugary goodness burst in her mouth.

"That's amazing!" She muttered through her full mouth, as Mako picked up one and popped it into her own mouth, closing her eyes and humming in satisfaction.

There was a loud noise, a clanging from the other side of the ship, and Mako's eyes widened, a curse coming out around the chewed food.

"What?" Raeyn asked, turning to look at her, curious at her response since no one could board the ship apart from their own crew.

"He's back early," She jumped up, turning off the projector, slapping the light switch panel on as she placed the plate of sweet rolls on the counter, rushing back to Raeyn and pulling her hands to force her stand up. Her eyes sweeping over her, and Raeyn's expression confused, she was trying to swallow the food quickly.

"What's happening Mako?" Raeyn burst out as soon as the food was gone.

"Nothing, just…I suggested that Torian….ummm.."

"Spit it out Mako!"

"I just told him he should get started on his plans for wooing you sooner than later, this morning, when I passed him in the hallway, just a little…..nudge from me is all, and he…well, apparently he's taking me up on that!"

She reached out and dusted Raeyn's cheeks, white powder rising from them.

"What? Now!?" Raeyn gestured at herself, her entire demeanor one of near hysteria. Her eyes moved past Mako to the galley which was covered in the white dust, her own footprints marking the floors around them.

"Sorry," Mako muttered, rushing toward the door, "You look like a girl learning to cook, he'll love it!"

And just like that Mako was gone and Raeyn was still reeling. She looked down at her black tank top, covered in white sweet powder, her black shorts smattered with white handprints from her slapping her hands on them, and she knew it was in her hair and on her face. She took off across the room in a dash to get to her quarters to change before Torian made it to the galley.

She'd just made it to the door when she ran into what felt like a brick wall, falling backward on her behind, yelping. Torian dropped the bags he had in his hands on the floor and rushed to kneel down next to her, "Raeyn! Are you okay? I'm so sorry; didn't know you were in here!"

She was fully aware that she was turning ten thousand shades of red and wanted the ship to swallow her whole. Her eyes were fixed on a point just below Torian's chin as she struggled to try to think of words to say.

"You okay?"

She nodded, a bubbled laugh of embarrassment, a small snort sounding out as she shook her head, he stood up offering her his hand, which she took so he could help her stand up, "It was my fault, I just was…." She drifted off, not sure of what to say, as she watched him turn back to the doorway, as if maybe giving her a few moments of privacy to composer herself. He gathered the bags and walked them over to the table, his gait assured, the model of certainty at the moment when she was struggling to find words.

"M-Mako was just teaching me how to make sweet rolls," she gestured at the plate as he walked across the kitchen past her to do something with the oven behind her.

"They look good," he exclaimed as he looked at the plate, amusement coloring his words, as he surveyed the disaster that was the galley, "a good dessert for us."

He laughed in a quick, nervous way as he brushed past her walking back to the table, "Looks like you had some fun learning too." His hand drifted out over toward the kitchen and the mess that was all over her and the floor, and the counters, and pretty much everything. He huffed, running his hand through his hair before he turned his back to her, pulling items out of the bags.

"Was gonna ask you to join me for dinner," he'd turned back around to look at her, his hands passing some kind of vegetable back and forth between them, his cheeks red and she wanted to go hug him, reassure him that she knew this was weird for both of them, "Should have probably asked sooner, but if this is a bad time, we can do it some oth—"

"No!" Raeyn burst out, louder than she meant to, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, a nervous laugh flowing between her fingers, "I mean, I'd love to do it, now!" She couldn't stop another laugh from bubbling out as she realized what she'd said, Torian's hands pausing what he was doing, one of his eyebrows raising teasingly, she rushed the words, clarifying, "I'd love to have dinner with you. Now…I mean…"

Frack.

"Good," he stated firmly, hiding a laugh behind a tight smirk, as he turned back to the table to empty the other bags so the contents were laid out across the table.

Raeyn shook her hands and arms out, trying to relax, took a deep breath, calming herself, checking his aura to see he was feeling nothing but satisfaction and happiness. She jumped up on the counter a few feet away sitting casually, her legs pulled up, bent and crossed, with her elbows resting on them, her face slumped down into her hands, looking curiously at Torian and everything on the table.

"What are you planning here, Cadera?" she asked, taking a deep breath, smelling the exotic scents from the items laying across the table—herbs and spices that tickled her nose.

"Tiingular," he said, tossing some kind of vegetable up in the air, catching it and then slamming it back on the table, striding over, reaching past her to grab a knife from the stand behind her, his shoulder pressed into hers, as his stomach stretched across her knee, then turning to go back to the table.

Shivers ran over her skin from his proximity, she shifted to sit up straight, wondering if he were so unaffected. She noticed his hands lay flat on the table for a moment, the knife placed down, his body moving as he took in a deep breath, then picking the knife back up, his hand wobbled a little when it came down for the first slice.

Not so unaffected.

She smirked at his back, lulled by the sound of the knife hitting the table in quick succession, like it was forming a beat to its own music.

He cooks. Lucky me.

"Where did you learn to cook anyway?" she asked, genuinely curious, she couldn't think of another man she knew who was comfortable in the kitchen unless he was eating. She noticed him huff out a breath.

"Not well liked. Not part of the clans, even called part of Clan Ordo—they accepted me as a brother, as a son, but, still not truly accepted," he said his back stiff, the knife stilled, "You learn what you have to do in order to stay alive. Even as a child."

He shrugged, the knife clicking on the table again, pausing to look over his shoulder, "Had an elder teach me, didn't want me to starve. Took pity on the arue'tal."

She knew that she had to talk to him about his past, really talk about it and not just what she had gleaned stealthily either, and just last night he had told her point blank that he intended to talk to her about it—they had both agreed on it, but it hurt her to do it, because he always seemed to be in true physical pain every time they discussed anything from his past. The wounds were still raw and fresh, and she had yet to be able to help him heal them.

He turned back to cut up the next item, his back stiff from the word still hanging in the air, the air floating with the harshness of it. She decided it was definitely time to change the subject.

"Will I like it?" she asked, honestly a little confused about what made this food different from other food she had eaten, as far as she knew she'd never had Mandalorian food before—at her adoption she had been too nervous to eat, so she had zero experience with it.

Torian stepped around the table so he could look at her while he continued to chop the foods on the table, making her tilt her head sideways, studying him, as he lifted his eyes to look at her while still chopping. He was clearly a professional, not even remotely worried about cutting himself, he was so skilled. His hand a blur as he sliced the next item.

Wonder what other skills he might have with his hands.

She quickly cut that train of thought off—feeling the already telling warmth spreading across her skin. He looked down to get another vegetable to cut up.

"Depends," he started to talk glancing back up at her, but then stopped abruptly, his knife stilling where it was, "You okay?"

Her eyes widened at the question.

"You look flushed, is it too hot in here?"

She realized that her thoughts had processed and flew out into the room when Torian shuddered softly, a quizzical look crossing his face before he schooled it.

She looked down at her clothes, her normal sleep clothes, not something she ordinarily wore out of her quarters. She was completely flustered and embarrassed and lacked the brain cells in the moment to come up with a reason she had to go back into her room after she'd slammed into Torian.

She could think of a hundred now.

I need to put some clothes on—simple.

I need to check on my pet fish—he doesn't know I don't have one.

I left the oven on—okay so the oven is in this room, that wouldn't have worked, probably.

I can't stand here half naked in front of you—the word naked and Torian in the same room. Nope.

I need to run and hide from you now—yes, that's the one that might have worked.

Well, they weren't all legitimate excuses. Of course, had she delivered an excuse to him—he might not have stayed to cook, and then she wouldn't be sitting here watching him cut food up and be so…Torian. So here she sat barely dressed in front of him, in clothes she used to sleep in, and he is asking her if she's what….hot?

Really?

"I'm fine," she muttered waving her hand at him, "go on then!"

"Just let me know, I can turn the oven down, I was just getting it warmed up faster," he gestured toward the oven with his knife, to which she waved her hands dismissively again, he nodded, picking their conversation back up, "It depends, do you like spicy foods?"

She pondered this for a moment, lost in thought of what kinds of foods she had eaten that were spicy, contemplating it.

"Well, cons-," he glanced up at her then, his words caught in his throat, having meant to offer a smile, some encouragement about the food she'd be trying, but instantly realized it was a huge mistake as she was counting something on her fingers.

The way she was now sitting, her legs having dropped down off the counter, swinging gently, gave him the most exquisite view of her, so much skin, so many curves that were normally hidden behind metal and leather and layers of more metal and leather. This was the first time he'd seen her out of her armor or her normal training suit that might as well be armor for the way it covered her from head to toe and did nothing to accentuate all of the feminine parts of her that he now knew were exquisite. He'd always imagined it to be so, but she was far more lovely than his mind had contrived.

Beautiful.

Inside and out.

Torain cleared his throat, trying to unmuddle his head in the process, finding his voice again, "Consider it a test then, they say that any woman who can handle a plate of tiingular is a keeper."

For her own excuse of missing the entirety of Torian's flustered response to her, Raeyn was consumed by trying to think of the number of spicy foods she'd eaten, which was surprising low…her mind picking up a little late on what he said about the Mandalorian saying of what makes a 'keeper'.

I'll eat a frakkin' ton of the stuff to be kept by you, spice or not. That sounds horrible.

She grinned mischievously.

Not even sorry.

For his own salvation Torian was tremendously relieved when she resumed her previous position of her legs being tucked up, her arms resting on them, with her head in her hands looking at him. He realized he had stopped chopping and quickly began again. The clicking keeping time to his wildly beating heart.

It's a miracle I haven't cut off a finger already. What is she even wearing!?

Raeyn's eyes were watching his hands handle the vegetables, so he took the chance to really look at her now that the initial shock had abated. His eyes moved over her, so much to see, to worship, her skin was so light, and it looked so soft, creamy—like warm vanilla sugar candy that he had as a child, rich and —smooth and sweet. She even had sweet powder dusted on her skin, giving the pink glow of her skin a sparkling sheen from whatever Mako had her doing before he'd arrived.

His mind filled instantly with a vison of licking the sweet powder off her arm straight up to her shoulder.

His mouth actually watered.

What the ever loving hell.

He slammed the knife down on the table, clearing his throat and abruptly stepping out of the room—going down the hall without any explanation.

Raeyn was sitting with her mouth open, startled by the loud sound the knife made when he slammed it onto the table and his leaving had barely registered before he was already walking down the hall, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong, wondering if she should go after him.

He came back into the room before she could make a decision, setting up the large ventilation fan from the storage area into the doorway pointed straight at her and turning it on, the air blowing her hair back off of her face. She looked at him questioningly.

He walked over to her, his eyes burning, wild with an emotion she wasn't familiar with, holding out some kind of white fabric in his hand. She looked down at the cloth, unsure. He gestured out to her to take whatever it was, his eyes on the floor between them. She pulled the fabric from his hands, shaking it out and then holding it up to see what it was.

A white button up shirt, three times her size, clearly something of Torian's. She smirked, lowering the shirt she was holding up to peek over the top of it at Torian, who had moved back to the table, resuming the clicking sound of the knife hitting the table while he chopped, his eyes fixed on the table.

He didn't even look up at her, just kept his eyes on the…whatever he was cutting up, "Ged'etye."

Please.

She nodded, having no shame but admonishing herself that she probably should given the fact that he responded so strongly to her lack of proper clothing. She hopped down off the counter, turning away from him, slipping the shirt on quickly, lifting the fabric to her face, inhaling sharply as it carried the scent that was all Torian. Trying to not make a satisfied noise from the experience, she shook her hips from side to side in a happy dance, while also trying to figure out how to keep the shirt.

Forever.

She took the time to button each button all the way from the top to the bottom. The shirt reached to her knees and covered her arms as well, the sleeves falling over her hands—which she pulled through, rolling them a bit to cuff them.

She turned around, seeing that Torian had taken a seat at the table, holding a bowl in his hand with a pestle, grinding up some type of seasoning for the recipe he was making. She held her arms out as if presenting herself to him when his eyes glanced up at her.

His hand froze in mid motion. His eyes moved across her form the way he took in all the weaknesses of one of his prey. His body tensed in a way that was unique to him, she saw it all the time out in the field, the way every muscle, every system responded to the hunt—the way instinct took over and he moved with such fluidity, like he was one with the air, one with the universe. Raeyn noted the subtle changes in him now but wasn't super clear on what was happening, dropping her arms to her side, turning to glance behind her to see if there was something she was missing, but finding nothing—then realizing—unable to stop the flush that spread over her body—it was because of her.

A low growl came out of him then, something different than what she heard in the heat of battle.

Suddenly, the chair slammed backward into the wall with a furious crash, the table legs made a harsh grinding noise as his hands pushed it, and he was there, grabbing her around the waist—his hands wild with need, breeching the distance between them before she could even process it, his lips landing on hers, devouring, taking, begging without words.

Instantly, she had a push dagger clenched in her fist, ready to slam into his throat, self-defense mechanism's ruling over her mind, his hand came up grabbing her arm, clenching her wrist, stopping its motion, not even looking, still the skilled hunter even when his attention was diverted to her.

He pressed her backward until she hit the counter, one of his legs pushing between hers, bowing her backwards, towering over her. He pulled the hand with the dagger backward until she dropped it, then he grabbed her hand and pulled it to rest around his neck, his arm then moved down to her waist and lifted her up against him, grinding his body forcefully against hers.

She caught up then, her right leg lifting to wrap around him, as he eased her onto the counter, her other leg moving around him, the discarded dagger skittering backward, his mouth moving across her face and down her neck, nibbling lightly, sucking, tasting the dusting of sugar on her skin, delightfully teasing. She felt the ship shuddering, the lights were beginning to flash, and she tried to keep her head together, but his mouth was so soft and warm against her skin, and she was losing herself in his touch.

She whispered his name, grabbing onto his hair and holding him there against her, her mind spinning from the emotions that were thick in the air, hers, his, theirs, lost in the sensations, the air around them heavy, she heard a light explode in the hallway.

He stilled, clenching his eyes shut. He heard the electrical buzzing from the lights, high pitched whirring as they strained from the electrical current Raeyn was pushing through the room. He laughed lightly under his breath, shaking his head as he rest his forehead on her shoulder.

He should apologize, he should tell her he didn't mean to do that, but he did mean it, he wanted to. Had wanted to for so, so long. He knew he couldn't apologize for what he felt around her, not now.

Not ever.

She stilled with him, worried she had done something wrong, not able to think too deeply on any level as the myriad of sensations around her were overwhelming. She pushed down a loud layer of feelings when she heard another light blow outside the room. Closing her eyes trying to block out some of the sensations.

The only movements were their body shaking with the ragged breaths they were taking. Seemingly coming back to his senses, he leaned back to look at her, his dilated eyes working to focus, trying to shake off the need he felt. The passion he exuded, she was returning tenfold, without her normal level of control—it was spiraling outward slamming into him. He was smothering in it.

"Haalur," he whispered, his hands reaching down to grasp the edge of the counter, squeezing it hard, as he gulped in the air between them.

He leaned his head on her forehead, her hands still caught up in his hair, gently scratching his scalp as she soothed him, soothing herself by drawing her attention to him, knowing that this wasn't part of his way of doing things—not her way either, but they were here together and she didn't regret it—but worried he might.

He didn't lose control. That's not who he was. He was all about control. She wanted to let him have it.

She started to apologize, but he made a clicking noise with his tongue, seeming to know before she opened her mouth what she intended to do. He shook his head against hers, his eyes alight with a mixture of humor and severity at the same time. An odd mixture for him.

"Three things, Cyare," he whispered, their breath mingling as he spoke.

"One, what exactly were you planning to do," he held the dagger up between them, "with this?"

She snatched the dagger out of his hand and put it down on the counter beside them, her body shaking softly with her laughter, his hands coming down onto her legs to hold her still, his face tense and pained, the hunt clearly taking its toll on him.

"I'm sorry," she knew he would know it was for all of it, "It's just that you startled me, it was instinct….I swear I wouldn't have actually hurt you," she whispered, shrugging.

"Beroy'ika, always my little hunter," he whispered, lifting his head to touch his lips to her forehead before ducking it back down again.

"Two, where did it come from?" He had studied her pretty carefully, not just now either, for a long time—though for the moment she certainly didn't have enough clothes on to be hiding a dagger, not even one as small as that.

She reached up, leaning back, and he reluctantly moved backward out of her space, to watch her pull her hair on the side up and back, revealing a line of weapons attached to the band that held her hair up, miniature, but clearly not without power, hidden where her hair would cover and conceal them. His eye brow shot up.

Damn, she's brilliant.

He reached over and moved her hair from the other side to see more weapons hidden there.

"In the spirit of sharing the truth about…everything, this is probably the wrong time or something, and I'm an idiot and all that…but the weapons…my hair…umm…the thing is…" Raeyn took a deep breath, harsh and terrible as her nerves threatened to shake her to death, she reached up, taking her hands to the front of her hair, pulling slowly backward, as the wig full of weapons shifted and she pulled it off to hold it out in front of her, her head was covered in a cap that held her real hair underneath.

She couldn't bear to bring her eyes to look at his face.

She used her other hand to pull the cap off her head, the long white hair spilling down past her shoulders as she shook her head. Her family all ended up with one of three kinds of hair. Absolutely none, perfectly white, or perfectly black. Her hair would not hold any color, and she wasn't keen on always having white hair as it made her look…otherworldly, drew attention to her…made people ask questions—a very personal issue she knew—so she hid it while she had fun with making hair an accessory.

It wasn't something that had ever really bothered her until now—when she actually cared about feeling beautiful and feminine and all of that other nonsense—and knowing that Torian was hopefully going to see her when she was not wearing one of her wigs she found she did care. Such an idiotic thing she'd never worried about, she had wigs of all sorts commissioned and had them match her outfits and changed them constantly. In some cultures, white hair was revered and seen as a sign of wisdom but in most it was just something that meant degrading things about age and such, she had no idea how Mandalorian culture saw it, she focused on the wig in hands, still refusing to make eye contact.

She wanted to cry from embarrassment because he was so quiet, she wanted to look at him to make sure he wasn't making a horrible face, but she couldn't bring herself to take the risk, so she just turned the wig in her hands repeatedly.

"I should have probably shown you sooner but it's a weird conversation, something that you just don't bring up normally, I mean no one else would actually need to know this but you know, I know you do, but there was no right time…you couldn't have possibly known…"

As she continued to ramble on, Torian had reached to take the wig from her hands, looking at the underside, and then at the weapons and the different mechanisms that concealed them.

His admiration blossomed, filling him with such happiness and joy knowing that she was his, and he was hers, there were just some traditions, some formalities, but somehow he knew and she knew in their hearts that it was the truth—that they were building something unique and beautiful in such an ugly world. His heart was caught up in his throat, swallowing down the thickness of the words that wanted to spill out to her—confessions of love, of a future, of promises, and truths.

My girl is a warrior goddess.

He carefully set the wig to the side, slowly taking in the words that Raeyn was saying—realizing that she had spent the last few minutes on self-depreciation because…she what? Had white hair?

His hand reached out to touch a long strand that fell forward, his fingers rubbing together, sliding downward as he took in the silky texture—different than anything he'd felt before, than he'd ever seen before, not like normal hair, rather, it felt so soft and smooth, not like real hair, it shimmered slightly as the lights cast colors into it. His fingers slid off the end of the strand he had been holding, his eyes moving up as her voice was growing more and more agitated.

"I mean, hair really is so stupid, and it's stupid to even care about it, I don't know why I even care about it, to be honest…I just…it's…I'm so stupid…" her voice caught on the word as it tumbled out, holding back her tears, not wanting to appear weak over something that was simple vanity—she never cared before and she wanted to curse that she cared now, "I know that it's ridiculous to be so jealous of other women with 'normal' hair, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't envious..."

"Cyar'ika, they should long to be you," he stopped her hands which had been shaking violently in front of her as she spoke, shushing her softly, gently, to make sure she knew that he wasn't upset with her, his eyes drifting over her face, her hair, then pulled her hands down between them as he leaned his head onto hers, "Val copaanir cuyir gar, ori'haat. Women should have no greater desire than to be you. You are beautiful, perfectly flawless, a fierce and resolute warrior, your beauty is not held in your hair—kandosii'la—captivating as it is—any more than it is held in your hands, or eyes, or any part of your body—it is held in your runi, your soul."

His eyes moved across her face, taking in the way she held her breath as if she was trying to believe what he was saying.

I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you.

He leaned his head up to kiss her forehead softly, then back down to catch her eyes, "You take my breath away."

A tear slid slowly down Raeyn's cheek as she felt the truth of his words wash between them, his aura lit up with bright, brilliant colors that reflected his affection and acceptance.

His hands reached to cup her face, his thumb sliding to wipe the tear away from her eye, as he whispered, "Ni kar'taylir darasuum."

She knew these words, her heart stopping in her chest, breath caught as they moved through her—breathed bright light into the darkest recesses of her essence—and she'd learned these words in hopes she'd be able to say them back to him one day—not even from Torian but from the holonet to keep it a secret. She took a deep breath as his love blossomed in his aura, responding, pushing her love forward to him, "Ni kar'taylir darasuum."

His eyes sparkled brightly as the Mando'a words rushed like a raging river against every single cell of his body.

His lips gently sought hers out then, speaking slowly, less frenzied than before, with more direct purpose, the kind of kiss that took hold of you from deep down inside, anchoring you to the other person. Senses floating softly, the taste of sweet powder accenting the movement, his tongue brushing across her lips, coaxing her to answer, his hands holding her face between them, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks, a slow, sensuous movement filled with whispers of love and adoration and deeper words of need and desire. His mouth drew out her whimpers, answering with his touch, stepping into her, his shoulders curving inward as his mouth spoke words to her that his mind could not yet form, careful, delighting in her sigh, talking down to the very soul of her, and in its own voice it responded with equal volume, embracing the need, seeking and finding.

Coming home.

Slowly, he withdrew, smaller touches, gentle pulls, softly soothing the burning running through them, a tiny noise of protest from her, he smiled, understanding her need, feeling it like a living thing in the room with them, his mouth tempered the fire with thoughts of what was yet to come, pulling her from the sanctuary they had found together, softly caressing her, kissing her forehead, his hands whisping across her skin, feeling the way her body was trembling, pleased that it had the same effect on her that it had him, holding her there for a moment and then leaning down, dipping his body so his eyes were aligned with her own to look into her eyes.

"That should have been our first kiss."

She was too flustered and undone to even formulate a proper response, just nodding that she understood, her hands clenched so hard in his hair it had to be hurting him, she released it, her hands still curled, wanting to grab him back, but she shifted them, down to his shoulders. He reached up and pulled them down, holding her hands in his own between them, lifting them to kiss them gently.

"Third," he whispered, smiling at her that crooked adorable smile that melted her every single time, "if you want to eat tonight?"

He paused there, and she nodded that she was looking forward to eating.

Cause I am a frakkin' keeper.

"If you want to eat tonight," he nodded his head with her then, matching her movement, "I'm gonna need you to go put some other clothes on."

Her face flamed like it had been hit with a blast from a torch, ducking her head, trying to move away from him, he burst out laughing with amusement then, pulling her into him, her face buried in his chest as she came down off the counter and stood hidden in his arms, his head above hers, shaking with mirth as he kissed the top of her head.


She ate two bowls of tiingular that night. Just to make sure he knew.

He, of course, already knew—but laughed when he kissed her pinked, spiced tingly lips goodnight, "So…I guess you're definitely a keeper, huh?"

She shoved him playfully, giggling in a very un-Raeyn like way, "You knew that!"

"I did," he admitted, grasping her hand between them, lifting it to place a kiss on the top of it, not ready to say goodnight.

She began to draw her arm away, hating to let go as she turned to go to her room on the other side of the ship, "Yep! Next are Mando'a lessons!"

He pulled her hand quickly before it left his, causing her to tumble back toward him, catching her in his arms, his face inches from hers.

"Jate'ca, Cyare," he whispered, smiling brightly, eyes twinkling with newfound joy.

"Hmm…." She twisted her mouth up sideways, her head tilting as she considered what he might be saying, he held his breath at how absolutely adorable she was and wanted to kiss her again, but instead waited patiently for her to guess the words, "Goodnight?"

He nodded, but before he could say anything she admitted, "I don't know what Cyare means though."

He lifted his hand up, brushing the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her shoulder before he leaned down placing a soft kiss on her temple, sighing into her ear as he breathed the word, "Beloved."

Her sleepy eyes cleared, as he leaned back up to look into her now brightened face, pink and glowing at the admission, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She drew her hand up, stroking his cheek, "How do you say 'warrior'?"

"Verd."

"And…how do you show ownership? As if to…to say 'this is mine'?" She whispered, her eyes fixed on his.

"Ner…" he tapped his chest once with the palm of his hand, "…mine."

Raeyn nodded, her hand reaching forward to lay across his hand over his heart, the words feeling foreign and strange in her throat, but flowing outward in a simple phrase, a new name given life through her heart, "Ner'verd."

Torian's smile was instant, lighting up his face in the dark hallway, he leaned down, knocking his forehead gently against hers before letting it rest there, "Yes."

She stepped forward, her face turning to the side as her arms wrapped around him, his arms meeting behind her back as she squeezed him as tight as she could around the waist, humming softly at the sound of his strong heartbeat against her ear matching her own in rhythm and tone.

One of his hands drew up, sliding under her hair, to cradle her head against his chest, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathed deeply in the beauty of this moment.

Always.


Notes:

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING SO AMAZING I POSITIVELY LOVE YOU ALL! It means more than I could ever express that you take the time to review and respond and even just READ what I write. I am truly humbled by each of you! 3

Translations:

haalur [hah-LOOR] breathe

Beroy'ika [bair-OY-EE-kah] Little hunter

cyar'ika [shar-EE-kah] darling, sweetheart
_

Val copaanir cuyir gar, ori'haat.

[vahl KOH-pan-EER KOO-yeer gahr, OH-ree-haht]

They desire to be you, it's the truth.

kandosii'la [kan-doh-SEE-la] stunning, amazing

runi [roo-NEE] soul (poetic only)

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum

[nee kar-TILE garh dah-RAH-soom]

- colloquial: I love you. Literally: I know you forever.

Jate'ca, cyare.

[JAH-tay-kah, SHAH-ray]

Goodnight, beloved.

Ner'verd [nair-vaird] My warrior.