This is a non-episode tidbit, starring one of my OCs. For timeline's sake, it takes place somewhere between season 2, episode 11 'Lightsaber Lost' and season 2, episode 20 'Death Trap.'

Spinner is from my story 'The Strays.' If you haven't read it, quick background: he works under a woman named Leslie, who is rather unorthodox in her leading style, and treats them all more like best friends than subordinates. Because of this, Spinner does have experience (non-sexual) with woman, so his take of Ahsoka is going to be slightly different from Bly's and Slighter's.
If you have read it, this takes place somewhere during chapter eight.

Jesse, Ahsoka, Rex, the 501st - all are George Lucas (just in case no one knew :P)

Through the Eyes of Spinner

Spinner studied the Dejarik board with as much focus as he would apply to diffusing a bomb. Jesse sat across from him, also staring at the game board, his blue-trimmed armor gleaming softly in the lighting. Leslie sat at his feet, leaning back against his armored legs, and though he couldn't feel her body heat, he knew it was warm, and it was easy to imagine the warmth seeping through the plastoid and to his skin. Other troopers sat around, watching the game, but his focus remained solely on the board, Jesse, and his squad leader.

"Stuck, vod?" Jesse teased, voice innocently curious. Spinner quirked an eyebrow—a gesture he'd picked up from Leslie—and made his move, killing one of Jesse's pieces.

He grinned up at his brother. "Not at all."

At his feet, Leslie nudged his knee slightly and he glanced down, noting the strands of hair he'd been playing with had gotten caught in his gloves. He carefully worked them free, momentarily rubbing her scalp where the hair had pulled. Jesse—and all the other troopers—watched the interaction closely, curiously, though none of them said anything. After her continuous presence for a few hours, they'd become desensitized to her. Though, Spinner felt a small grin curling on his lips, remembering the night cycle she'd shown up at the squad's temporary barracks they currently shared with another squad, her bottle of liquor in her hand, her teasing smile playing on her lips, if she does anything other than sit here, they'll need to get used to her all over again.

The 501st wasn't so bad, though. Not as bad as the 212th had been. The 212th, who was all male, had reacted to Leslie's presence in a way that was to be expected from men who had never seen a female before. They had stared and whispered, had dared to even hint that she was incapable simply because she wasn't a clone and wasn't a Jedi.

Spinner's grin grew, remembering Sergeant Rev's response to one 212th trooper who'd made a rather rude comment revolving around Leslie's leadership, and how she managed to earn the loyalty of her squad, and then keep it. The sergeant had looked at the trooper, face hard, eyes ice, and simply said, "Sit down with your soldier superiority, son."

"Have we missed a joke?" Jesse's voice was light, his curiosity genuine this time. Spinner blinked, bringing his attention back to the present, to the game, to his brother.

He shook his head. "No."

Leslie's voice sounded softly from the floor, half-asleep as she was, laced with laughter and mischief. "Liar."

Jesse's eyes widened fractionally at what he perceived to be an insult. For a leader to call her man a liar implied she didn't trust him, couldn't rely on him. Spinner, however, chuckled, catching strands of her hair between his fingers again and starting to twist. He shrugged a shoulder, meeting Jesse's gaze. "Just thinking."

One of the watching troopers snorted with laughter. "Dangerous pastime for a clone."

Spinner just smiled, staring at the board. "Your move, vod."

Jesse nodded, sparing an extra moment to glance briefly at Leslie, and Spinner knew he was trying to decide if she had been teasing or not. Yes, the 501st was definitely better to be around. In his opinion, at least. They had that commander, the little Jedi Padawan, all bright-eyed wonder and glittering curiosity. They worked with a female, maybe not every day, but enough to have a basic idea of how not to act around one.

Inadvertently, he started comparing his squad leader to the Jedi girl-child.

Leslie was hard; hard muscles that moved under tan skin, hard words that promised pain to anyone who dared to harm those she cared about, hard looks that she used when someone didn't listen. She was also soft; soft smiles paired with eyes that danced with trouble and mirth, soft touches after a long mission that offered comfort and companionship, soft stories that had them all holding their stomachs in laughter.

Commander Tano was, she was—Spinner thought for a moment. She was small, but only physically. Leslie had taught him that a person's size was determined by their mind and their spirit, and that little Padawan had a wonderfully large mind and a magnificently large spirit. She was big, full of laughter for her men, teasing looks, sassy words. She was eager, willing to help, to learn. Intelligent, clever, prepared to do whatever she could for her men.

Spinner had seen her in the mess, sitting with the captain and the medic Coric, laughing loudly, laughter that seemed to fill the room with something light and happy, and made every trooper present smile, just a little smile as they wondered what could possibly be so funny for their commander to have to hold on to the captain's pauldron to keep from falling off the bench.

He had seen her in the gym, occupying the far corner, and he knew it was to keep out of the men's way, to keep from distracting them—which means she's thoughtful, too, considerate. She had been practicing one form of saber combat, going through the steps, twisting and bending and turning, a whirl of glowing green. Her placement in the corner, as mindful as it had been, didn't help. As if someone could avoid being distracted by her, by her skills with the lightsaber, by the power that swelled within her lean, still-growing body. Even Spinner, used to Leslie's flirting and teasing and skills, used to Omari's looks and food and leans, even he had gotten distracted by that little Jedi for just a moment, pausing to watch her fly.

Because she did fly, it seemed, toes barely touching the ground. She would fly and spin and dance. Not the dancing Leslie did, or Omari did, not the dancing that had been at that gala when Leslie had been pressed against his chest, beautiful dress flaring out as she twirled. The dancing the Padawan did, it was spine-tingling, awe-inspiring, the green saber her dance partner as she practiced the routines, changing and adapting as needed. The dancing the Padawan did was as virulent as it was beautiful, and Spinner knew that for all her skills, all her talents, Leslie would never quite be able to do the dance of the little commander.

He had seen the two of them—Leslie and Commander Tano—walking through the hallways, arms draped over each other, nearly the same height, a spot of black hair and tan skin and ice-blue eyes, of white and indigo montrals and russet skin and sky-blue eyes, bright in the dull grey-black-white background that was everything else on the Resolute. He had trailed after them, needing to speak with his squad leader, but unwilling to interrupt them. He could almost see the laughter coming from them, the laughter that hadn't yet found the light of day, but he knew eventually would, simply because they both laughed.

Another nudge at his knee told him it was his move again. He studied the board, another smile curving his lips up as he saw the mistake Jesse had made, the mistake that would cost the tattooed clone the game, and make Spinner the winner.

Jesse groaned even before the move had been made, finally seeing his error and knowing he had lost. Spinner chuckled, keying in the final move, then declaring himself victor to whoops of congratulations from the observers.

At his feet, Leslie opened her eyes, smiling sleepily. "You won?" Spinner nodded, twisting a stray curl around his finger. Her smile widened and she turned her head, placing a soft kiss on his armored thigh, directly above the knee. "Good job."

She shifted position slightly, curling more towards his leg, resting her head on his thigh, eyes closing once more. Jesse and the others were once again watching. Spinner looked at them, waiting for a comment of some sort. Instead, Jesse just shook his head slightly. Spinner raised an eyebrow.

"Something to say, vod?" The words might have been dangerous, but they were spoken with laughter in them. Jesse shook his head again.

"She's acting like a tooka cat."

Spinner made a show of glancing down at Leslie, once again resting his hand on her head, then back up to Jesse. "You mean your commander doesn't fall asleep on you like this?"

Chuckles and snickers erupted, respectfully quiet of the resting woman. Spinner grinned to himself. Leslie could sleep through anything or wake at the slightest sound, depending on where she was, who she was with. They didn't need to be quiet. She was with him, and he had promised he'd do his best to keep her safe, keep her alive. He wouldn't risk losing her, not like he'd lost his first squad. So he had promised, and he had told her, the promise whispered in her ear after one particularly long mission. She knew his promise, and he knew that because of it, she was sleeping soundly against him, uncaring of the others around them.

He wondered if that little commander had anyone, the way Leslie had him. He wondered if that little commander had someone who promised, maybe not whispers in her ear, but promises said with action and battles and blood, with softly-spoken encouragement and roughly-yelled orders. He wondered. Maybe the general. Spinner could tell the man had made his promise to someone, he could tell. Though, thinking about it, it wasn't made to the commander.

Not the general, then. One of the clones, maybe. One of the medics, perhaps, or one of the 501st's token ARC troopers. Or, the thought struck him, the captain.

She sat beside him in mess, ran beside him in battle, rested beside him while waiting for news about the injured directly after a battle.

Leslie had Spinner's promise, and in turn she had given him smiles and laughter and gentle kisses, and a slow-dance while on a mission; she had given him love. She was fire, blazing and burning and scorching anyone who got in her way, and, warming everyone she loved.

The commander flew and spun and danced. She laughed with her men, with Leslie. She shared stories with them, meals with them, pain with them. She was big and eager and intelligent, and Spinner suddenly understood why Leslie said she sparkled.

Because she did. The little Padawan sparkled with a life-force so great and bright that it touched everything and everyone that came near it, touched and left, and Spinner knew that it had touched Leslie, and it had touched Sergeant Rev and the rest of his squad, and it had touched him.

He knew Leslie and the commander were friends, more than friends. They were adopted family. He'd heard what Leslie called the girl, their heads bent together in secret giggles that only brought trouble. Vod'ika, is what his squad leader called the little Jedi. Little sister.

He knew then, all at once, why she, the young Padawan, had been the one, out of a galaxy of beings, despite the fact that Leslie had a sister in Omari, he knew why she was the one honored with the title of vod'ika.

He smiled. Welcome to the family, vod'ika.

Yeah? Or should I stick with canon characters? haha

The 'token ARCs' sentence is a nod at Jade-Max's story 'The Clone Wars: Captain and Commander,' chapter 10.

Read, review, enjoy.

Kisses!