Archive of Our Own

The last few weeks had been… chaotic, to say the least, but Ezra was finally starting to settle into a new routine at Yavin Base. Each day, he wakes up, eats breakfast with Hera and Kanan and Jacen, then heads to Jedi training. If it’s Ahsoka, she makes him and Luke do all sorts of crazy flips and jumps, pushing them higher and further—some days, she even brings Rex and makes him shoot stun shots at them until they can deflect them effortlessly. If it’s Kanan, they focus on lightsaber forms and sensing their surroundings. With Master Kenobi, they meditate and learn their history, and occasionally he decides to absolutely demolish them in saber combat. 

Once training is done, Ezra grabs lunch with Luke in the mess hall. Some days, Sabine will join them, or Han, or Zeb. Leia is usually too busy, but will occasionally stop just to grab a cup of caf and run off to the next thing. 

After that, it’s drills and maintenance for the rest of the day. He’ll fly drills with the X-wing pilots (he’ll do his best to beat Luke, but gets outflown every single time), help AP-5 with inventory (worst damn job on the whole base), or help Kallus train the new recruits. Then it’s back to the Ghost for family dinner. Their little family has been growing—Jacen takes a seat of honor in his little high chair, grinning and waving his chubby fists. He just hit 3 months old, and Ezra feels like his heart is going to explode every time he sees the kid’s gummy smile. Jacen isn’t the only new addition—Kallus has been joining them too. He’s a surprisingly good chef, helping Kanan in the kitchen with ease. He also has a wicked sense of humor and a sharp wit. Some nights, Ahsoka and Rex join them, or occasionally Wedge, and one time they invite Leia to dinner and are all collectively delighted when she drops her princess persona and they learn that she swears like a sailor. 

Then it’s the evening, and Ezra spends the rest of his night trying desperately to get laid. He is routinely unsuccessful. 

He hadn’t really had the time to try properly, not when he spent all his teenage years moving planet to planet, sharing a room with an enormous grumpy Lasat. But he’s 19 now, he has his own room on base (perks of being a lieutenant!) and love is in the air on Yavin Base—for everyone except him, apparently. 

After the Battle of Yavin, where Luke destroyed the Death Star, things finally started to settle down after months of nonstop running between Lothal and Yavin IV and Alderaan and Corellia and Mandalore and a thousand other places. He hadn’t seen much of the actual battle—he was trapped in Hera’s quarters on the Ghost as Sabine and Chopper and Zeb frantically piloted them away from the approaching Death Star. Hera had initially insisted she was fine, that she would stay on Yavin Base until the battle was over, but her argument was swiftly undercut when her green face went sickly pale and she doubled over, clutching her enormous belly as she bit back a pained groan. 

Dodonna had refused to hear one word out of her, insisting point-blank that she was to evacuate the planet immediately. If the worst happened, Dodonna explained, she at least needed to keep the baby safe. Ezra and Sabine had led her out of the room. Hera had been clenching his hand so hard he thought his fingers might break, refusing to scream even as another contraction hit, letting out a stream of swears in Ryl. 

Kanan knew already, of course—he met them in the shipyard, sprinting up to them, his mask missing, panic written on his face. 

“Are you okay?” he had asked, grasping Hera by the elbows. 

“Do I look like I’m fucking okay, you son of a bitch?” she hissed furiously at him. 

Hera didn’t let up even when the Ghost took off, still clutching Ezra’s hand and cursing Kanan for putting a baby in her. He weathered all her insults with a loving smile on his face, mopping her brow with a cool, damp cloth and whispering soothing words. He put so much calm and love into the Force that Ezra almost started feeling relaxed as well—that is, until he saw way more of Hera than he ever wanted to. He felt so lightheaded that for a moment he thought he would pass out, and then Hera would need to kill him for leaving her. 

“You are so lucky you can’t see this,” he whispered to Kanan, feeling his stomach turn. Unfortunately, Hera heard his whisper, and cuffed him around the head for it. 

There was a brief moment when he feared the worst—his heart dropped when he suddenly felt an overwhelming darkness sweep over him, an enormous loss of life like he had never felt before. Kanan felt it too, turning his unseeing eyes in the direction of the grief. A moment later, an enormous shock wave rocked the Ghost, almost sending them spinning. 

“Did they fire on Yavin?” Ezra choked out, terrified. Ahsoka was down there still, Kallus, his friends—if the Death Star had fired, like it did on Scarif and on Alderaan—

“Sabine, Zeb, do you have visuals?” said Kanan over the comm, a thousand times calmer than Ezra could ever be. He squeezed both his hands around Hera’s as she looked at him with tears in her eyes. 

There had been an agonizing moment of silence, and then the comm line opened to Sabine and Zeb cheering wildly. Ezra had nearly collapsed with relief. 

“They did it!” Sabine yelled. “Some pilot from Red Squadron, he fired—one shot, the whole Death Star exploded!” 

Jacen Syndulla had been born moments later, flying among the stars—as if there was any other place he’d be born. Hera had passed out on the pillows, exhausted but proud and healthy. Jacen was perfect—brown skin like his dad, green hair like his mom, with pointy little ears and green speckles down the back of his neck. Kanan took his son in his arms, listening to his little cries, running his fingers gently along Jacen’s forehead and nose and ears. Happy tears dripped from Kanan’s eyes, and Ezra suddenly found himself wiping away tears from his own eyes as well. 

“I’m so glad I get to meet you, Jacen,” he said reverently. Ezra agreed. 

Once they landed back at Yavin, Zeb had forcibly shooed them all out of Hera’s quarters, insisting that Mom and Dad had some alone time with their new baby. 

“Sabine, go see if you can find a medic who’s not helping injured pilots,” he had instructed. “Ezra, I dunno, go tell everyone the good news. Now scram.” 

Ezra had rolled his eyes at Zeb bossing him around—as usual—but he did want to find Ahsoka, to let her know the good news. 

He had found Ahsoka in a quiet corner of the base, watching people pass with a small smile on her face. The small smile turned into a real, genuine smile when he told her about Jacen, about his round tomato face and his little tuft of green hair and his tiny fingers and tiny toes—okay, maybe Ezra was realizing he kind of loved this kid, like a lot.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” said Ahsoka. “Can’t believe little padawan Caleb has a baby—” 

Before she could say more, she stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening in disbelief, clearly sensing something through the Force. 

“What is it?” Ezra had asked, one hand floating towards his lightsaber hilt. 

“He’s…” Ahsoka turned and sprinted down the hallway without a second word, leaving Ezra to scramble to catch up. She ran to the hangar bay, skidding to a halt when she caught sight of a Corellian light freighter Ezra hadn’t seen on base before. He’d definitely remember a piece of junk like that. 

“I don’t believe it,” she said, anger and relief and love and grief rolling off of her. Ezra had followed her line of sight to see a familiar white-haired figure standing between the freighter and an X-wing, tucking his hands into his brown sleeves and surveying the area. Ahsoka let out a noise that might have been a sob or a laugh, covering her mouth with one hand, before striding over to him. The man turned towards them, and his face flew through at least 10 different emotions when he met Ahsoka’s eyes. 

“Hello there,” said Obi-Wan Kenobi, smiling at them.

Ezra waited for Ahsoka to speak, but she seemed to be struck speechless, so he nodded at Kenobi, bowing a little. Was it polite to bow to a Jedi master? He should probably ask Kanan. 

“Nice to see you again, Master,” he said. “Glad you could join us here on Yavin.” 

“Ahsoka,” said Kenobi, cautiously, and Ezra wondered if he should be here for this conversation, which suddenly seemed very personal. “I’m… I am so glad to see you, dear one, I—”

“I thought you were dead,” said Ahsoka, blinking rapidly, her voice thick with tears. “You bastard. I needed you. Why didn’t you—I thought you were dead—not a message, not a word, nothing—where have you been?” 

Grief flickered across Kenobi’s face at her accusatory words. Instead of responding, he turned and called over to a group of celebrating X-wing pilots—“Luke, could you come over here?” 

A boy around Ezra’s age bounded over to them. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and a smile like a warm summer day—the teenage part of Ezra’s mind noted these details with great interest, but most of his attention was caught by the way Ahsoka’s face dropped like she had seen a ghost. 

“Ben, did you see it?” said the boy, excited and joyous. “The whole Death Star went up, just like that!“

“Luke,” said Kenobi, laying a protective hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’d like you to meet some friends of mine—they are Jedi, just like you.” 

Luke’s face lit up with excitement at Kenobi’s words, and he spun towards Ahsoka and Ezra with a grin. 

“It’s great to meet you!” he said. “My name’s Luke Skywalker. I’ve never met another Jedi before, besides Old Ben of course—”

Upon hearing the boy’s name, Ahsoka inhaled sharply. Ezra suddenly pieced some information together, remembering the training hologram featuring Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. Ahsoka had called him her master, Kanan had said he died during the attack on the temple—Luke had the same blue eyes, the same dimple on his chin. Kenobi had refused to leave Tatooine with Ezra—of course, he must have been watching over Skywalker’s son, keeping him safe. 

“It’s…” said Ahsoka, emotions warring on her face. “It’s nice to meet you, Luke. My name is Ahsoka Tano.” 

“I’m Ezra Bridger,” said Ezra with a small wave, hoping to cut through some of the tension. Ahsoka was staring at Kenobi with a million questions in her eyes. Luke looked at him with a smile, shaking his hand, and Ezra couldn’t help the grin that came onto his face—Luke’s excitement was infectious. 

“Ezra, why don’t you show Luke where the mess hall is?” said Ahsoka, not looking at them. “Luke, I’m sure you need a break after all that.” 

Luke looked uncertainly at Kenobi, who gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Yes, you boys go ahead,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll talk more later.” 

Kenobi and Ahsoka had disappeared after that—Ezra didn’t see them again until hours later. When Ahsoka came to the Ghost the next day to meet baby Jacen, he had tried to ask her what she and Master Kenobi had talked about, but she waved him off with one of her mysterious smiles. 

Whatever it was, Ahsoka clearly wasn’t mad at Obi-Wan anymore, or maybe she was, but was working through it little by little. They talked to Kanan, and the three of them had started training Ezra and Luke in earnest. Ezra had to admit, it made his ego feel pretty good to be the experienced one in their class of two. When he successfully backflipped off the training platform, lightsaber slicing through five of Rex’s stun bolts, and landed solidly, brushing a curl of hair out of his face, Luke’s face glowed with excitement that warmed Ezra to his core. 

It was nice to have Luke as a friend—most of the time. At the moment, though, he wasn’t much in the mood to tolerate Luke laughing at him, completely unsympathetic. 

“You should be on my side,” he moaned, laying his head down on the bar. He immediately regretted this, lifting his head back up and scrubbing the sticky spilled liquor off his forehead with a wince. 

“I’m sorry,” snorted Luke. “But his face—when you said—”

“I thought it was a good line!” Ezra protested, and Luke laughed so loud that several heads turned in their direction. 

“So you thought—” Luke snickered, barely able to get the words out. “You thought you’d tell the hot guy from Engineering ‘hey cutie, is that a tractor beam? Because I’m being pulled in by your eyes—’”

“I didn’t sound like that!” said Ezra, face flaming. “Honestly, I thought it would be okay.” 

Luke kept giggling, both of them remembering the horrified look on the cute guy’s face when he processed what he was hearing. 

“You really thought it would work?” said Luke, not unkindly, in that direct farm boy way of his. 

“It worked for Sabine,” said Ezra stubbornly. She had been the one who suggested that line, and she was always surrounded by women. 

“It worked for Sabine because Sabine is irresistible to women,” said Luke, rolling his eyes. “She’s just got that energy. The line works when it comes from a cool lesbian, not a—”

“A sad bisexual?” finished Ezra, leveling Luke with an unimpressed look. He shrugged. 

“You said it, not me.” Luke took a sip of his drink, something fruity with an umbrella, as Ezra scowled at him. 

“Maybe I should cut my hair again,” said Ezra, running his fingers through the unruly curls. He had been letting his buzz cut grow out since the battle of Lothal, mostly just because he kept forgetting to take care of it, and his hair was now almost as long as it was before he cut it short, and curlier than ever thanks to the humidity on Yavin. 

“No way!” said Luke. “Girls like curly hair. And so do boys. I guess.” He ducked his head, cheeks reddening slightly. 

“I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Ezra moaned. “Everyone is in a relationship but me. You and the Princess are all buddy-buddy now, and Sabine is hooking up with that Pantoran girl, and Wedge has a girlfriend who’s a Y-wing pilot. Han is probably fucking someone new every night he’s here, let’s be honest. Hera and Kanan are basically married even if it’s not official. And Zeb acts like we don’t know that he’s totally in love with Kallus. Plus, I have a working theory that Ahsoka is involved somehow with Bo-Katan Kryze. I’m too scared to ask. You could even argue that Chopper is dating AP-5, seeing as they argue like an old married couple—”

Ezra paused in his rant, remembering suddenly to draw breath. He was stopped short by the quizzical expression on Luke’s face. 

“I’m not behind on any gossip, am I?” he asked. “Did Sabine break up with the Pantoran girl and not tell me?” 

“No, it’s not that,” said Luke, amused. “You think I’m ‘buddy-buddy’ with Leia?” 

“Are you not?” said Ezra, suddenly doubtful. “You’re together all the time.” 

“Yeah, but we’re not dating—I mean, I do like her! She’s wonderful, she’s so cool and so smart, and she’s really just amazing all around—we talk all the time. I feel like she gets me better than anyone—”

“Is this supposed to convince me you’re not dating?” said Ezra, raising an eyebrow. Luke made a frustrated noise as he tried to explain. 

“It’s like—I dunno, she’s just my best friend,” he said. “We even have the same birthday, if you can believe it. She gets how I feel—I lost my aunt and uncle the same day she lost her parents and her planet. She always seems to know what I’m feeling, and I can always find her in a crowded room—I don’t know.” 

“Whatever you say, Skywalker,” said Ezra, sipping his drink. He felt oddly reassured that Luke wasn’t dating Leia (though it still seemed to Ezra like he’d like to be)—it would be weird to lose Luke to someone else. They had become close quickly, and it was nice to have someone close to him besides his crazy family to talk to. 

His friend tilted his head thoughtfully, resting his chin on his fist. 

“Okay, what’s on your mind now?” said Ezra, feeling a little self-conscious at being regarded so thoughtfully. 

“Have you ever been kissed?” Luke asked, and Ezra immediately felt his face go red. 

“Ugh, don’t rub it in,” he said, sipping his beer to avoid making eye contact. 

“So you haven’t?” Luke pressed. 

“Haven’t had the opportunity, no,” said Ezra. “It’s been a busy few years, to say the least.”

“It’s not a judgmental thing!” exclaimed Luke, laying a hand on Ezra’s wrist. “I’m just saying, I could give you some advice, if you wanted.” He took a sip of his drink, meeting Ezra’s eyes over the rim of his glass. 

Ezra grinned. Luke was a cute guy, to be sure, but his guileless smile and sunny personality didn’t exactly shout sex god.

“Okay, oh wise sage of romance, tell me tales of your sexual prowess,” he said, pretending to bow to Luke. Luke snorted at him. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“I’m just saying, how much opportunity is there to knock boots on Tatooine of all places? I’ve been there, remember—it’s just a big sandy dump.”

Luke laughed long and loud. “I’m just saying, there’s nothing to do but knock boots on Tatooine. I think I spent every Benduday at the Anchorhead cantina for about two years, and got lucky probably two-thirds of the time? So, yeah.” He raised an eyebrow at Ezra, cocky.

“Holy shit,” said Ezra in amazement. “No fucking kidding?” 

“No fucking kidding,” agreed Luke. 

“Well, damn,” said Ezra, mentally recalibrating his perception of his friend. “Lucky you.” 

“It all comes down to confidence,” said Luke. “You don’t believe in yourself enough.” 

“Can’t believe I’m getting advice from someone younger than me,” grumbled Ezra, signaling the bartender for another drink. “I’ve just reached the point where I think I’d take a first kiss from anyone, just to get the nerves out of the way.” 

Ezra reached out to take the drink from the bartender. He turned back to Luke and opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped short by the press of Luke’s lips against his. He made a startled noise, eyes flying open. Luke’s lips were warm against his, chapped and a little sweet from his drink. 

Luke pulled away with a grin, and Ezra tried to sort through his muddled thoughts. 

“Now you don’t have to worry about that,” said Luke, cheeks slightly pink. “All the rest will be easier.” 

“Um,” said Ezra intelligently. 

“And I’m only two days younger than you!” Luke protested. 

“You giving out kisses tonight, kid?” said a voice from behind them. Ezra turned, his brain still feeling rather foggy, to see Han Solo swaggering up to them, holding a Corellian whiskey and smirking. 

“You want one, Solo?” said Luke, leaning against the bar and grinning at his friend. 

“Hey, that’s Captain Solo to you,” he said, spreading his arms with a cocky smirk, showing off a brand-new rank badge. 

“When did that happen?” said Luke, delighted. 

“Are you kidding?” said Ezra, jaw dropping. “You can’t seriously outrank me.” 

“You Rebellion folks need my piloting skills, that’s just the undeniable truth. Figured I’d stick around, get a few paychecks, enjoy discounted drinks—” He gestured widely towards the bar, his drink sloshing in the glass. “And the ladies love a freedom fighter.” 

Ezra grumbled, rolling his eyes. Luke laughed at Han’s posturing. 

“Well, Captain Solo, how about you treat us to another round?” said Luke, grinning. Han acquiesced, signaling to the bartender, who started pouring glasses of what looked to be Ipellrilla firewater.

“Are you trying to kill us, Solo?” demanded Ezra. 

“Can’t handle it, Bridger?” said Han, picking his glass up and downing it in one swallow.

“Fuck you, man, I do this all the time—” Ezra snagged his glass off the bar and tossed it back, immediately regretting his decision as his mouth and nose started burning. He shook his head, concealing a cough, and blinked rapidly. Luke, once again, was laughing openly at him, the asshole. 

“Holy kriff, that is fucking vile,” gasped Ezra, feeling a full-body shudder travel through him. 

“Not so bad when you get used to it,” said Han, tossing a second glass back like it was muja juice. “That’s just the way of it, I can outfly your mom, I can outshoot your sister, and I can outdrink you.” 

“My mom—what? You mean Hera?” Ezra snorted. 

“Yeah, the pilot,” said Han flippantly. 

“You realize she’s a Twi’lek and I’m not, right? And she’s only, like, 10 years older than me?” said Ezra, incredulous. 

“Is she not your mom, though?” 

“Well, yeah, I guess she is. But the only reason she hasn’t beat you in a race is because she’s three months postpartum. The moment the medic clears her for active duty, she’s gonna absolutely smoke you. The Ghost is superior to the Falcon in every aspect even without Hera flying it.” 

“Oh, that’s what you think, man,” chuckled Han, unrepentant. “Wait ‘till you see the Falcon in action, you’ll change your tune.” 

Ezra rolled his eyes, grabbing another drink from in front of him. The logical part of his mind told him to maybe slow down, but the rest of him decided to wholeheartedly ignore that. The second shot wasn’t nearly as bad as the first, and he felt a surge of confidence. 

Things started getting a little fuzzy after that point. Ezra remembered dancing with Luke, the two of them laughing and spinning, and he remembered falling over and knocking Han over, which was also very funny. Han somehow managed to get his hands on a full jug of jet juice and was passing it around the table when Chewbacca showed up, ignoring the Wookiee’s grumbling laughter when he spilled it all over his vest. 

There were other disorganized memories in there—Ezra vaguely recalled standing on a barstool, braiding pieces of Chewbacca’s hair, and remembered the Wookiee catching him as he toppled off the stool—not a great example of his Jedi reflexes. And he remembered Luke, shining like the sun, grinning and smiling and laughing. 

Luke was nice to spend time with, so Ezra told him so, the two of them leaning heavily on each other’s shoulders. And it was nice to kiss him. 

“That’s the Ipellrilla firewater talking,” said Luke, but Luke was also drunk, and Ezra told him that, too. 

“I’m gonna—” Ezra swallowed back a burp. “I’m gonna find some people to kiss. Lots of people to kiss. I wanna see a boob.” 

Luke tossed back his head and laughed, which was nice. 

“Just one boob?” he asked. 

“Any boob,” said Ezra earnestly. 

There wasn’t much else in his brain after that.

“Ezra!”  

He slammed into consciousness painfully and unceremoniously. He sat up and winced as his head swam. He had a throbbing headache and his mouth was dry as a Tatooine desert. 

“Fucking what,” he managed to croak out at the person disturbing his rest. 

“You look like hell warmed over,” said Sabine, cocking her head at him. At least, it was a Sabine-colored blob that sounded a lot like her—Ezra’s eyes weren’t fully working yet. 

“Did you break into my room again?” said Ezra, squinting at her. 

“You use the same passcode for everything, it was comically easy to guess your door code,” said Sabine. She reached out and tugged at his messy hair, making him wince. 

“Stop,” he groaned. “Brain is made of mush.” 

“And glitter, apparently,” she said, showing him where her fingers had pulled glitter from his curls. “The fuck did you do last night?” 

“Blame Solo,” said Ezra, reaching for a pitcher of water. His stomach flip-flopped as he moved. 

“I already blame him for most things,” said Sabine, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, I just came because Hera was worried when you missed breakfast. And you’re about to be late for training, too, and I don’t think Ahsoka will be too pleased.” 

“Motherfucking shit,” said Ezra, flopping back on his bunk and covering his head with a pillow. 

“I brought some hydration tablets, you’re welcome in advance,” said Sabine, grabbing Ezra’s shoulder to haul him into a sitting position. He took one from her hand and swallowed it dry, giving her a grateful thumbs up. 

“Fine,” he said. “I’m up. Tell Hera I’m sorry I missed breakfast and I’ll be there for dinner tonight.” 

He rolled out of bed and into his small ‘fresher, quickly washing his face and changing into fresh clothes. He tried to pull a brush through his unruly hair but lost the battle and gave up. He also needed to shave—he stroked the dark stubble on his chin consideringly. He realized if he let his facial hair grow he’d probably look an awful lot like his dad—the thought did something funny to his insides. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on that, though—nor did he have time to shave, anyway. The stubble would have to stay. 

“You know,” he called as he quickly brushed his teeth. “You could always join us for training.”

Sabine groaned. “Not this again, Ezra!” 

“I’m just saying, we’d all be glad to have you,” he said, poking his head through the doorway. Sabine crossed her arms and gave him an exasperated look. 

“I don’t do that jetii osik, how many times do I have to tell you?” 

“But Ahsoka and Kanan both think you have—”

“Well, then, they’re wrong.” 

Ezra sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed to pull his boots on. 

“I’m trying not to push, Sabine, but you’re really just being stubborn about this.” 

Sabine rolled her eyes at him. “I’m a Mandalorian, I can’t be a Jedi too. Besides, you and Kanan and Ahsoka have it covered.” 

“And what if we’re not here?” said Ezra. His headache flared, but he refused to back down. “We’re in a war, Sabine, we don’t know what will happen next. Kanan’s not going to force you to wear robes and float rocks and stuff, he just wants to teach you things that could save your life if Kanan or I can’t be with you some day—things you are capable of, I’m just saying—”

“I told you to drop it, Ezra,” she snapped. “Go do your magic tricks. I’ll see you at dinner.” 

With that, she stormed off down the hallway, leaving Ezra to pinch the bridge of his nose and let out a groan. 

“Kriffing hell,” he said, closing the door of his quarters behind him. Knowing Sabine, she’d probably stay mad at him for the rest of the week. He remembered a moment too late that he wanted to tell her about Luke kissing him last night, get her opinion on if it meant anything or was just a silly joke between friends. He wasn’t sure what he wanted it to be. 

“Morning, Lieutenant Bridger,” came a chipper voice from behind him. Ezra turned to see the object of his thoughts in front of him, looking disturbingly non-hungover. 

“Don’t even,” he said, starting towards the temple’s exit. The sunlight hit his eyes and he winced. The hydration tablets were starting to do their job, but he still felt strung-out and achy. 

“How are you functioning?” Ezra asked as they walked away from the base. Ahsoka had instructed them to meet her in a quiet, wooded area some ways away from the main structures, and Ezra enjoyed the cool, quiet breeze as they neared the woods. 

Luke laughed. “I stayed hydrated and spent all night eating bang-corn, that’s how. Plus, I’ve been drinking spotchka since I was 15, and nothing here on Yavin will compare to that jet fuel.” He hopped gracefully onto a small stone wall at the edge of the path, walking next to Ezra, resting a hand on his shoulder to keep his balance. 

“I tried convincing Sabine to come train with us again,” he said. Luke hummed with interest. 

“How did it go?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

“Well, she’s not here, is she?” said Ezra, gesturing around them. “She told me to fuck off, more or less.” 

“Damn,” said Luke, disappointed. 

“Eh, she’s stubborn. I’ll make Kanan try again in another few weeks.” 

“Hi—you’re Luke and Ezra, right?” 

Ezra turned his head to see a young woman he hadn’t met before turning away from her X-wing. She was on the shorter side, with dark eyes and straight black hair pulled into a loose bun. Her helmet had the insignia for Blue Squadron emblazoned in fresh paint.

“That’s us,” said Luke, hopping down from the wall and shoving Ezra a few steps forward, closer to the pilot girl. “What’s your name?” 

The girl laughed. “Oh, nobody. I’m Tandi, I’m new. Just joined up, I’m from Hosnian Prime. The Empire wanted me, but I said no way.” 

“Glad to have you in the Rebellion, Tandi,” said Luke, still shoving Ezra unsubtly in the small of his back, his sharp fingers poking into Ezra’s spine.

“You know me?” said Ezra. Luke, of course, was uniquely identifiable—he could hardly move anywhere on the base without someone clapping him on the back and thanking him. Ezra, though, usually managed to fly more under the radar. 

“Of course!” she said with a small, musical laugh. “Everyone knows about the brave Jedi who single-handedly defeated Grand Admiral Thrawn.” 

“You mean… Kanan?” asked Ezra, nonplussed. 

Luke hit him hard on the shoulder. “She means you, dumbass,” he whispered. Ezra’s eyes widened. 

“Oh, me? Well, yeah. Of course it’s me. I knew that.” He laughed awkwardly, bringing up a hand to rub at the back of his head. 

“It was amazing,” added Luke. “Thrawn didn’t know what hit him—Ezra was like a tornado, taking down Stormtroopers left and right—they said the Grand Admiral had never looked so frightened as he had that day.” 

“You weren’t even there,” hissed Ezra out of the corner of his mouth.  

“Shut up and agree with me,” Luke whispered back. Tandi watched them, a slight smile on her face. 

“Well, I’m glad to be in the company of such grand heroes,” she said. “Next time you’re at the tapcafé, I’ll buy you a round. Okay?” 

“Okay,” said Ezra. He probably had a dumb smile on his face, but couldn’t seem to make his face settle down. “Okay, sure. See you around, Tandi.” 

“Bye, Ezra,” she said, wiggling her fingers at him as she walked off, helmet under her arm. 

Ezra felt his face heating up as he walked towards the training grounds. Luke was right behind him, radiating smugness. 

“Okay, be cool,” he said. Luke bounced along next to him, grinning wide. 

“She was cute,” he intoned on a sing-song. “Don’t you think?” 

Ezra didn’t know what to think—he did think she was cute, but his feelings were all mixed up. What did he want, anyway? 

“Yeah, she was cute,” Ezra admitted. “Do you like her?” 

Luke snorted. “Ew, no.” 

“Damn, alright,” said Ezra, warmed slightly by his immediate dismissal. “More for me, I guess.” 

“Yes!” said Luke, excited. “We could go to the tapcafé tonight, see if we can get you that free drink she promised—I bet she’d dance with you—”

Ezra’s stomach turned at the thought of drinking a second night in a row. “Not tonight—it’s Ghost family dinner tonight. Maybe later this week, though. Maybe.” 

“I’ll cry if you don’t come with me,” said Luke, walking backwards and miming tears falling down his face with his fingers. “Sad, sad, lonely Luke without his Ezra, sad and alone, nobody to drink with…”

“Okay,” said Ezra, shoving Luke out of the way, both of them laughing. “Fine, you asshole.” 

They were still giggling as they approached the clearing to see Ahsoka watching them with a wry smile, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Next to her was Kenobi, his arms folded into his sleeves. 

“Are those two late Jedi I see before me?” she asked. “It couldn’t be, all the Jedi I know are prompt and on time for their training sessions.” 

Ezra winced. “Sorry, Ahsoka,” he said guiltily. “We’re here now, though?” 

“We better not be doing more blaster deflection today,” complained Luke. “I’m still sore!” 

Ahsoka’s face did something funny, as it sometimes did when Luke spoke. She schooled her expression back to her usual stoic Jedi expression, tilting her head at them consideringly. 

“We’re practicing our forms today,” she said promptly. “Under Kanan and Obi-Wan, I know you’ve both focused a lot on Form III, Soresu. It’s good for defense and blocking a variety of attacks, but it lacks in the offensive department.” 

“But today, we won’t look at Form III or Ahsoka’s preferred Form IV variation,” said Obi-Wan, drawing his lightsaber. “We’ll take a look at Form II, Makashi. The greatest Jedi duelists of the last millennium have mastered Makashi to counter a variety of lightsaber attacks.” 

“Hey, if you and Kanan use Form III, and Ahsoka uses Form IV, how many are there total?” asked Ezra. If Kanan had taught him previously, the fact had long since left his brain. 

“Six traditional forms,” explained Obi-Wan. “And Form VII, developed in the last 50 years by your great-grandmaster, Ezra.”  

“Wait, really?” he asked, floored. 

“Yes,” explained Obi-Wan. “Form VII, known as Vaapad, was developed by Master Mace Windu. He trained Master Depa Billaba, who trained Caleb—or, Kanan, rather.” 

“No way,” said Ezra. “Was he cool?” 

Ahsoka laughed at this, her eyes crinkling at the corners. It was nice to hear her laugh. 

“He was… yeah, let’s go with cool.” There was a twinge of sadness in her eyes. 

“Ooh, what form does Darth Vader use?” Ezra asked, suddenly curious. He immediately regretted his question as both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan’s faces shuttered closed. 

“Sith Lords do not use Jedi forms,” explained Obi-Wan. His voice was patient, but strained. 

“Yeah, I guess not,” said Ezra. He glanced at Luke, who shrugged. 

We’ve both faced Vader, thought Ezra frustratedly. We all have. They’re always acting like he’s the Boogeyman if I ever dare to mention him. 

Later, Luke mouthed to him. Ezra knew Luke was curious about the dark-suited Sith Lord too—they had compared stories when they realized they had both faced him. Ezra told Luke about how Vader effortlessly destroyed his first saber, and Luke told Ezra of the fight he had seen between Obi-Wan and Vader on the Death Star. It was truly only sheer luck and the talents of Ahsoka and Obi-Wan that got them out alive. 

“Form II, Makashi, was developed a thousand years ago by Jedi Grandmaster Lorn Stellaka,” explained Obi-Wan, brushing off the awkward moment as he launched into his explanation. Ezra tried to stay tuned in as Obi-Wan told them about the history of the form, but started getting fidgety. Luke shot him a small smile, cutting his eyes at him. Luke, of course, was sitting still, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees like a proper Jedi student. 

Finally, at long last, they got to the actual lightsaber forms. Ezra tried his best, swinging his green blade through the forms Obi-Wan taught them. Luke’s blade cast blue light on his face, furrowed with concentration, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. 

“It feels kinda stiff,” said Ezra to Ahsoka as she adjusted his elbow and wrist positions. “Not comfortable.” 

“You need to relax into it,” she explained. “Form II is about flowing from one position into the next, anticipating where your enemy’s blade will be before it gets there.” 

After they were appropriately practiced on the forms, Obi-Wan nodded, satisfied. 

“Would you like to try sparring with each other using the forms you learned today?” he suggested, and Ezra almost dropped his saber. 

“What—against each other?” he said.

“I know you’re intimidated by me, Bridger, but I’ll go easy on you,” said Luke with a casual shrug. 

“Dude, what if I slice you?” said Ezra. “Does nobody else worry about this?”

“Have you ever ‘sliced’ Kanan?” asked Ahsoka, amused. “Just turn your blade off if he misses a block.” 

“Yeah, well, Kanan has been training longer than three months,” he said. “No offense, Luke.” 

Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Offense taken! C’mon, I can do it. I’m ready!” 

“Alright, fine,” said Ezra. “But I’m going easy on you.” 

Ezra only realized he should not have gone easy on him when Luke’s lightsaber hummed hot next to the skin of his throat. 

“What was that you were saying earlier?” said Luke. He looked down at Ezra from above, having forced Ezra onto his knees before knocking his saber out of his hand. 

“Oh, I’m telling Kanan about this,” said Ahsoka, watching with amusement. 

Ezra gaped like a fish for a long moment, unable to come up with any words. 

“Not bad, Luke,” said Obi-Wan, his eyes sparkling at Ezra’s predicament. Things were dire if even Obi-Wan was silently laughing at him. 

“Skywalker rigged it,” said Ezra, gesturing wildly towards Luke. “I was doing fine, I was—!” 

“Whatever you want to tell yourself,” said Luke, shutting off his lightsaber and reaching to pull Ezra back to standing. 

He lasted longer in the second round, but still ended up with his hands raised in surrender, his lightsaber spinning out of his hands to land on the grass next to him. 

“Make sure you transition quicker into the third blocking position,” explained Obi-Wan as Ezra fetched his lightsaber from the grass. Ezra glared at Luke, who was unrepentant. “Letting your defenses drop against a more talented foe can result in serious injury, even the loss of your limbs. That happened to… a Jedi Knight I once knew. Even powerful Jedi can fail when faced with a powerful Makashi opponent.” 

Ezra didn’t point out that there were no Makashi opponents anymore besides the five of them currently on Yavin Base. Instead, he moved back into position, determined to do better this time. He felt like his head would burst from trying to keep all of Master Kenobi’s critiques of his form in his mind—and the lingering effects of his hangover certainly didn’t help. 

Pouring all of his effort into the forms, Ezra pushed forward, his lightsaber blade clashing against Luke’s. He allowed the Force to flow through his limbs, lifting his arms and carrying him through the positions. He ended with a Force push, shoving Luke backwards on the grass, his heels digging through the dirt. Luke’s eyes widened as he toppled over, landing on his rear and glaring up at Ezra. 

“Ha!” shouted Ezra, punching the sky. “Take that, Skywalker, kriff yeah!” 

Obi-Wan smiled indulgently, helping Luke off the ground. “It’s unbecoming of a Jedi to celebrate in victory,” he reminded Ezra. 

Ezra rolled his eyes. “You didn’t tell Luke to stop gloating against me earlier!”

Ahsoka snorted. “He’s right, Obi-Wan.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Obi-Wan, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. 

“I say let Ezra enjoy his victory,” said Ahsoka, slinging an arm around Ezra’s shoulder. He was almost as tall as her now (not counting her montrals, of course), which was an odd feeling. 

“This is why Ahsoka is my favorite,” said Ezra smugly. 

Obi-Wan chuckled, waving them off. “You boys head back and see about lunch. Ahsoka and I have a few things to finish up here.” 

Luke waved to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka as they headed back towards the base, the two of them falling into step with each other, chatting about the forms they just learned. 

Ezra stopped in place as he realized he had left his favorite jacket hanging off a tree branch near their training site. “Ah, shit.” 

“What is it?” asked Luke curiously. 

“Left my jacket,” said Ezra, turning to double back. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you at the mess hall for lunch?” 

“Sure,” said Luke amiably. “But if I see that Tandi girl again, I’m taking the opportunity to talk you up to her.” 

Ezra waved him off with a laugh as he traced his route back through the forest. As he approached the clearing, he realized he could hear Ahsoka and Obi-Wan talking in hushed tones. 

A proper Jedi would have made himself known, would have resisted the temptation to listen in—but Ezra had never been a proper Jedi, and his curiosity got the better of him. He concealed his presence in the Force, just as Kanan taught him, and crept forward silently. 

“We need to tell him,” Ahsoka was saying, low and urgent. 

“We cannot,” said Obi-Wan firmly, causing Ahsoka to growl with frustration. 

“He needs to know,” she said. “This isn’t something he can go—bumbling around in the dark without knowing. Do you want him getting hurt?” 

“Luke won’t get hurt if we are here to protect him,” said Obi-Wan fiercely, a protective streak in his voice. 

“Obi-Wan,” pleaded Ahsoka, and Ezra was shocked to hear real grief in her voice. He suddenly felt his stomach sink with guilt—he snatched his jacket off the branch as quietly as he could and slunk away before he could listen to any more of their conversation. 

What could it be, though? What did Master Kenobi and Ahsoka both know that could hurt Luke? Maybe something to do with the Emperor, or one of his moffs, or maybe even an Inquisitor? That could be why Luke had to stay on Tatooine for so long—so enemies couldn’t find him, enemies like Maul. 

Ezra’s mind started running top speed, trying to connect the dots. Maybe it was about Luke’s father, the Jedi who Obi-Wan and Ahsoka both knew. Maybe whoever killed Luke’s dad wanted to do his son in, as well? 

Ezra shook his head, trying to push the thoughts out of his mind. If Luke was really in danger, he couldn’t do much about it besides let Kanan, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan handle it. And really, what secret could be more dangerous than facing down Thrawn with a pack of purrgils at your back, anyway? He had survived that (barely), so whatever this was would be easier. 

Ezra wound his way back to the base, lost in thought, when his knees buckled as a familiar force rammed into his legs. 

“Chopper, karabast, can’t you just say hello like a normal person?” 

<FUCKYOU / Spectre6 / not a person> blatted Chopper angrily. 

“Yeah, shove off, tin can,” said Ezra, slapping away Chopper’s manipulators. 

<Spectre6 / status:absent / Mom / status:sad> said Chopper, spinning around Ezra’s ankles. 

“Yeah, Hera was mad I missed breakfast. I heard,” he said, trying not to trip over the orange droid. “I’m coming to dinner, don’t worry.” 

<human need sustenance / idiot> grumbled Chopper, ramming repeatedly into Ezra’s legs. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m trying to go to lunch, if you’d let me,” said Ezra, shoving the droid away with his foot. 

<Spectre6 / harm C1-10P / runprogram:revenge!!!> squealed Chopper as Ezra walked away from him. Ezra laughed despite himself, waving off the droid, who rolled away to find someone else to bother. 

He didn’t tell Luke about the conversation he overheard between Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, still feeling guilty about it. He spent the rest of the day cleaning carbon scoring off Red Squadron’s X-wings and laughing with Luke and Wedge, which took his mind off of things. By the time dinnertime rolled around, he had already almost forgotten about it.

For once, Ezra arrived early for family dinner. He sprinted up the Ghost’s stairs into the galley, where he found Kanan, Hera, and Jacen already inside. Hera was feeding Jacen, sitting and chatting with Kanan as Jacen nursed. Kanan was chopping a chokeroot, his mask off and a soft smile on his face. He turned his head towards Ezra as he heard him enter the room. 

“You missed breakfast,” said Hera accusingly when she saw him. Ezra groaned. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, leaning to give her a hug as best he could without disrupting Jacen’s nursing. 

“Heard you got your ass kicked at training today,” said Kanan, amused. 

“Seriously?” said Ezra, throwing up his hands. “I’ve been here five seconds and I’m being attacked. If that’s how it will be, I’ll leave and go eat at the mess hall for dinner.” 

<Spectre6 / status:ungrateful> beeped Chopper, rolling into the room with another tray of vegetables for Kanan. He took them from the droid and set to work on them. 

“Shut it, Chop,” he said. “Kanan, in my defense, Form II is really hard.” 

<Spectre1 / status:talented / Spectre6 / status:noob> said Chopper, prompting a laugh from Hera. 

“So uncalled for,” groaned Ezra. 

“You’ll get it with practice, Ezra,” said Hera reassuringly. 

As Jacen finished feeding, Hera moved him away and refastened her shirt. Ezra reached out for Jacen, and Hera handed him over. 

“If your jacket gets ruined, don’t come crying to me,” she said, laying a rag over Ezra’s shoulder. He lifted the baby—surprisingly heavy—to rest over his shoulder, one hand under his butt as he had been taught. Jacen was making small, contented noises, full and warm after his dinner. He smelled nice, fresh and babyish, and Ezra pressed a quick kiss to the green hair above his little pointy ear, starting to tap him gently on the back. 

“You need to hit him harder,” said Kanan without lifting his head from his dinner preparations. Ezra stopped mid-thump and looked at him. 

“I don’t want to hurt him, Kanan!” he said. “What, do you want me to smack the shit out of him?” 

“Language, E,” said Kanan. Ezra rolled his eyes—he didn’t swear nearly as much as Zeb, and they never lectured him about it. Plus, Jacen was still a newborn, it wasn’t like he would understand it. 

“He’s a sturdy guy,” said Hera. “He’ll be fine, it would be more unpleasant for him if he didn’t burp.” 

Ezra was still thumping Jacen on the back when Zeb walked in, carrying a bottle of wine, Sabine close behind him. 

“Careful where you point that thing, kid,” he said, stepping out of range of Jacen. “Last time he spit up in my fur it took me hours to get it out.” 

“You big whiner,” said Hera, standing to greet the others. “You lived, didn’t you?” 

“Barely,” grumbled Zeb. Sabine laughed, giving him a light shove as she entered and settled in next to Kanan, grabbing the cutting board of chopped vegetables. 

Kanan glanced up in Ezra’s direction, sending a wisp of a thought through the Force. Talked to her? 

Ezra sent back an affirmative—yes, went horribly. Kanan pursed his lips briefly, but didn’t press it. 

“Zeb, is Kallus joining us tonight?” asked Hera as she began to set the table. 

“Yeah, he’ll be here soon,” said Zeb, gathering the drinking glasses. “Anyone else tonight?” 

“Not tonight,” said Kanan. “No idea what Ahsoka’s up to, I can never keep track of her. But Rex said he’s ‘working on something,’ supposedly a big surprise.” 

Sabine grinned wide. “I know what it is—he looped me in earlier.” 

<Spectre5 / share secret> commanded Chopper, but Sabine just laughed. 

“Not a chance,” she said. “I was sworn to secrecy.” 

“Rude,” said Ezra. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she said mysteriously. At least her new project with Rex had made her forget she was mad at Ezra—for now. 

On his shoulder, Jacen finally burped. Ezra was amazed as always by how such a huge noise could come out of such a tiny baby. Zeb flinched away, and Sabine laughed at his reaction. Luckily, the majority of Jacen’s spit up had landed on the towel on his shoulder. 

“Oh, look at that,” said Ezra, propping Jacen forward in his arms to look at his little face. “Got all your barf on the towel because Uncle E is your favorite, isn’t that right? Much more than Uncle Zeb, oh yes!” 

Jacen giggled and smacked Ezra’s nose with one hand. Ezra laughed, wiping the rest of the spit up off Jacen’s chin. His heart felt like it hurt from how much he loved the kid, so he pressed a quick kiss on Jacen’s forehead affectionately. 

Hera was watching them, a sad little smile on her face, tears glinting in the corners of her eyes. 

“What?” said Ezra, suddenly scared. “Did I do it wrong, do you want him back—?”

“No, you keep holding him,” she said, taking the dirty rag from Ezra. She lifted her free hand to cup Ezra’s face, and he blushed, ducking away from her affection. 

“My boys,” she said. She leaned forward to press a kiss on Jacen’s head, and then gave Ezra one on the top of his head as well. 

“Stop,” said Ezra emphatically, feeling both embarrassed and pleased. She smiled at him, unapologetic, before turning to take the dirty rag to the hamper. 

“Hey, where’s the noodles?” asked Sabine curiously, standing over the hot pan where the vegetables were heating up. “We’ve got the veggies and the sauce, but no noodles.” 

“Sasha’s bringing ‘em,” said Zeb, reaching over her to grab the plates from the cabinet. “He had to pick ‘em up from the commissary today, the shipment was delayed.” 

Zeb stopped in his tracks when he realized Ezra and Sabine were both staring at him. Kanan kept his head down and continued chopping, an amused smile on his face. 

“What?” said Zeb, shrugging at them. 

“Who the fuck is Sasha?” demanded Ezra. The last thing he wanted was some stranger joining them at dinner. 

Zeb seemed to realize what he said, and his eyes widened. “Er, I meant Kallus.” He avoided eye contact as he began to put the plates down on the table. 

“His name is Sasha?” demanded Sabine, looking at Ezra with delight. He widened his eyes back at her in silent amusement. 

“What, you’ve never heard of a fuckin’ nickname before?” said Zeb gruffly. 

“So can we call him Sasha?” asked Ezra smugly. Zeb glared at him, and probably would have hit him had he not been holding the baby. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled in warning. 

Ezra hid his laughter by burying his face in Jacen’s hair. Sabine was not as subtle, and laughed out loud, earning her a smack across the head from Zeb in retaliation. 

“Garazeb Orrelios, violence is not the answer,” said Hera, amused. 

“It is when the question is ‘hey, what’s a super cool and fun thing to do to solve all your problems?’” quipped Sabine, making Hera laugh despite herself.  

Kallus arrived a few minutes later, hurrying up the stairs into the galley, a grocery sack in his hand. 

“Apologies,” he said in his clipped Core accent. “Long line at the commissary.” 

From his place in Ezra’s arms, Jacen squealed upon seeing Kallus, as he always did. Kallus looked shocked at the affection from the baby—as he always did—but stopped to take Jacen’s small hand in his. 

“Good evening, Ensign Syndulla,” he said, shaking Jacen’s little hand and watching him giggle with delight. Behind them, Zeb watched with the mushiest expression Ezra had ever seen on the Lasat’s face. Ezra smirked at Zeb triumphantly. Zeb realized he was being watched a moment too late, and glared forcefully at Ezra. 

Dinner was delicious, as always. As Ezra slurped his noodles, he remembered what he wanted to ask Hera. 

“Oh, Hera,” he said, mouth still full. “Do you know the new pilot in Blue Squadron?” 

“Finish chewing first, Ezra,” said Hera with a sigh. Ezra rolled his eyes, pointedly swallowed his food, and asked again. 

“The new girl from Hosnian Prime,” he explained. “Luke and I met her today. She knew who I was.” 

“Oh, she heard about the time you slipped on a muja peel in the mess hall and landed upside-down in the trash bin?” said Sabine teasingly, and Ezra shot her an unamused glare. 

“Funny,” he said. “I am widely known as the Hero of Lothal, after all. Defeater of Grand Admiral Thrawn himself.” 

“As I recall, it was more of a group effort,” said Kanan, amused. 

“I think I know her,” said Hera thoughtfully. “She’s got dark hair, on the short side, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s her,” said Ezra. 

“She’s kind of cute,” said Hera, raising her brow and bumping Ezra with her shoulder. He blushed, embarrassed to have been immediately found out. 

“I dunno,” he said. “I just met her. That’s all.” 

“Well, Blue Squadron has been doing well, all things considered. They’re performing well on all their training runs. Don’t know much more than that, though.” 

Ezra shrugged. “I was just curious, anyway.” 

“Oh, you’ll never believe what Chopper did today—” said Sabine as she launched into the next story, Chopper blatting objections, insisting that Sabine was slandering him. 

Ezra laughed along with his family, enjoying the warmth surrounding him. He didn’t know how long they’d all be on Yavin Base, but for now, he found he had no complaints.

The next day found Ezra with a rare light work day. Luke and Ezra had put up enough of a fight, whining about their sore muscles from their intensive Makashi practice, that their masters had acquiesced and allowed them one (just one!) day off of training. 

And yet, even without his usual Jedi training, Ezra still managed to find his way into Luke’s orbit. He had been strolling idly past a landing pad, enjoying the fresh breeze on his face, when Luke popped his head out of his X-wing, a smear of oil on his face. 

“Ez!” he shouted, and Ezra’s stomach jumped at the unexpected nickname. 

“Sorry, I only talk to captains or higher,” he shouted back. “Lieutenants are beneath me.”

Luke snorted, tossing a dirty rag at him. Ezra snatched it with the Force, hurtling it back at Luke’s head. He dodged, laughing. 

“Whatcha fixing?” asked Ezra, propping his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and tilting his head up to watch Luke work. The top of the X-wing was up, letting Luke enjoy the clear weather. He was wearing his orange flight suit, but had pulled the top half off his shoulders in deference to the sun’s warmth, leaving him in a somewhat greasy white tank top. Ezra secretly believed he looked a bit like a pinup propaganda poster like this, all golden tanned skin and softly-toned muscles. Join the Rebellion! Enlist today! 

“Messing with the servo actuators,” said Luke. The control panel of the X-wing was open in front of him, revealing a mess of wires. “I think I can get myself more control of pitch and roll if I rewire them a bit.” 

“Uh-huh,” said Ezra, pretending he had absorbed anything from Hera’s never-ending chatter about engines. “Makes total sense. I know what that is.” 

Luke leaned over the edge of the ship, shooting him a bemused glance. “You fly X-wings, you should know these things!” 

“I sometimes fly an X-wing, when needed,” corrected Ezra. “Doesn’t make me a mechanic. Besides, I know that pushing the yoke forward means go and pulling it back means stop, and pressing the buttons means shoot. What more do I need?” 

“Okay, but if you crash-land on a distant moon somewhere, don’t expect me to come save you,” said Luke, raising an eyebrow. 

[Baby Skywalker / stupid hero / would anyway] beeped R2-D2 from his perch in the astromech socket. 

“So not true, Artoo!” protested Luke as Ezra laughed. They fell into a comfortable silence for a long moment, Ezra enjoying the way the breeze gently tousled his hair. 

“Hey, come up here and help me,” said Luke absently. His head was leaned down over the control panel, fidgeting with something, and Ezra shot a scowl at the back of his head. 

“Maybe I’m busy,” said Ezra. “Maybe I’ve got other interesting things to do.” 

[unlikely] whistled R2, and Luke laughed. 

“It’ll just take a minute,” he said. “Please, Ez?” 

Ezra was not strong enough to resist that, not with Luke using his nickname and looking at him with round blue eyes. “Alright,” he said, trying to sound displeased about it. 

“This is why you’re my favorite,” said Luke brightly. 

“I outrank the princess?” said Ezra, pleased, as he climbed the narrow ladder to the cockpit. 

Luke considered. “Alright, second favorite.” 

“I’m out,” said Ezra, jumping off the ladder, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. Luke protested, laughing. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said, grinning. “You’re my first favorite. More than anyone else.” 

“Well, that’s great!” said Ezra, making his way back up again. “I mean, you don’t even crack my top ten, but I’m really flattered, honestly.” 

Luke laughed, pushing a hand against Ezra’s forehead as he popped into view. Ezra rocked backwards, grimacing at the feeling of engine oil on Luke’s fingers. “I don’t know why I put up with you.” 

“My charming personality and roguish good looks?” suggested Ezra, leaning his elbows on the edge of the cockpit. Luke rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was fond. 

“If you try hard enough, I’m sure you’ll achieve those things someday,” he said. “Maybe if you—”

[endprogram:flirting / runprogram:working] beeped R2 angrily from above them. Luke’s eyes went wide, cheeks flaming. 

“Artoo, shut it!” he said. 

Oh, shit, thought Ezra, suddenly realizing that he had been flirting, completely unintentionally. It was okay to flirt with your friends occasionally, right? He certainly hoped so, because it was fun, and surprisingly easy. 

“Uh,” he said, trying to change the subject. “So, what’s the deal with the servos?” 

Luke brightened, always glad to talk about his ship. “I’m rewiring them so it’s more efficient! If I take these parts and route them directly through the potentiometer, then through the motor, I think I can—”

Luke’s hair was nice—a bit messy from the breeze, blond strands swishing across his forehead, bleached light from years in the sun. It curled a little at the nape of his neck, some strands flipping upwards, others curling in. Luke raised a hand to sweep a particularly stubborn strand out of his face, leaving a streak of grease across his forehead. 

“—the wires aligned, then I’ll be able to—Ezra, are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” said Ezra. “Uh, yeah. ‘Course I am.” 

Luke raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, then you tell me what we’re fixing.” 

“Servos,” said Ezra triumphantly. “We’re making them—into a potentiometer?” 

Luke laughed brightly. “Oh, whatever. You can just hold my tools for me.” 

“That’s my specialty,” said Ezra, relieved. “Hera says I’m the best at that.” 

“I have no doubt,” said Luke. “Here, sit here—” He gestured towards a small section of floor in front of the pedals, tucking his feet under his lap to make room. Ezra hopped in, situating himself and settling Luke’s toolkit on his lap. He had to tilt his head back to look at Luke, seated in the pilot’s chair above him. 

“Pass me an arc probe?” asked Luke, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth as he fiddled with the control panel above Ezra’s head. 

“Big, little, medium?” prompted Ezra, searching through the tools. 

“Let’s try little,” said Luke, and Ezra passed the tool to him. “Artoo, send me a power pulse?” 

R2 beeped an affirmative, spinning his dome, and Luke pursed his lips. 

“Not quite there,” he said, mostly to himself. “Ez, you got a clamp for me?”

“On it, boss,” said Ezra, hunting. Luke laughed. 

“Gods, I’m nobody’s boss,” he said. “I can barely tell myself what to do, let alone anyone else!” 

“Felt that one,” said Ezra with a chuckle. “I let Hera and Kanan make all the big decisions for me.”

“You’re lucky to have them,” said Luke quietly, and Ezra bit his lip to hide his guilty feeling. He was extremely lucky, he knew that—especially considering how many close shaves had nearly taken Kanan from them over the last year. He knew Luke was surely still feeling the loss of his aunt and uncle, and he didn’t know quite what to say. 

“Here’s your clamp,” he said instead. Luke seemed to shake his momentary sadness off, focusing back in on his work. 

“I asked Hera about that girl from the other day,” Ezra said, and Luke brightened. 

“Yeah?” he said. “What did she say?” 

“Not much,” said Ezra. 

“Spanner,” prompted Luke, and Ezra passed it up. 

“Just that she’s in Blue Squadron, and seems nice, and is a pretty good pilot,” he said as Luke plucked the tool out of his hands. 

Luke hummed consideringly. “It’s so funny! I asked Wedge if he knew her and he said she just showed up one day. Artoo, flip the power for me.” 

“No, literally,” said Ezra. “I saw about a hundred new people in the mess hall yesterday. It’s near fucking impossible to get a sandwich these days!”

“That’s good!” said Luke with a grin, fidgeting with some wires above Ezra’s head. He tilted his head back to see what Luke was working on. “The Empire’s gonna learn just how strong we are.” 

“Yeah, that’s nice and all, but the dating pool’s about to get a lot bigger, too,” said Ezra lightly. “Have you seen anyone lately that catches your eye? Maybe white-dressed and long-haired…?” 

Luke dodged Ezra’s unsubtle attempts to interrogate him about the princess, shooting him an unimpressed look. “Sealant,” he said, and Ezra grumbled, pressing the can into his hands. 

“Oh, you’ll like this,” said Ezra, suddenly remembering. “Turns out Zeb has a special nickname for Kallus. Sashaaaa. Like, really! He still won’t admit they’re a thing. I mean, I didn’t even know Kallus had a first name—”

“I did!” said Luke brightly. “It’s Alexsandr.” 

Ezra protested wordlessly. “How did you know that?” 

“Peeked in the rebellion personnel files,” said Luke with a grin. “Did you know you have a flag on your file? Reckless behavior.”

Ezra laughed out loud. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“I hope they’re together, though,” mused Luke. “They’re cute! Tatooine is a little backwards on interspecies relationships—my uncle always called it unnatural. It’s refreshing that nobody here cares much.” 

“Yeah, I agree,” said Ezra thoughtfully. He couldn’t imagine a universe where Kanan and Hera weren’t allowed to be together. “I strongly question Kallus’ taste in men, but they’re good for each other.”

“Oh, be nice,” chuckled Luke, still fidgeting with the wires above him. 

“It’s seriously not fair, though!” protested Ezra. “Seems like everyone on Yavin Base is getting lucky but me.” 

“I guess love is in the air,” said Luke. His cheekbones were dusted with pink, and Ezra wondered if he was thinking about Leia. “Tandi seems to think you’re cute, though!”

“For now,” grumbled Ezra. “Until she realizes how pathetic I am.” 

Luke made a displeased noise. “Oh, don’t do that to yourself, you big pessimist.” 

“I just don’t see how it’s possible to, you know, successfully pick up a girl. I must be the least seductive person in the galaxy.” 

Luke snorted. “It’s about confidence, Ezra!”

“Yeah, but I can’t have confidence when I have no experience,” Ezra bemoaned, tipping his head back to thunk against the edge of the control panel. 

“Guess you gotta get some more, then,” said Luke, something shifting in his tone.

Ezra rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “Like, what if I go to kiss her, and I do so badly that she never wants to see me again? I’ve never kissed anyone before, I don’t know what I’m doing!” 

“That’s not true,” said Luke, his tone forced into lightness. “We—we kissed the other night.” 

Ezra flushed dark. “Oh. Yeah, that—uh, but that was like… a peck. Between friends.” 

He looked up at the blue sky, fluffy white clouds drifting, too nervous to make eye contact with Luke. 

“Friends can kiss,” said Luke, and Ezra’s heart jumped out of his chest. “It’s not against the law.” 

“Guess not,” said Ezra, feeling out of his depth. 

“I mean—you could. Practice. In a judgment-free zone. Then I could tell you if you’re any good, so then you’ll feel better about your skills.” 

“You—you would?” stuttered Ezra. 

“Sure,” said Luke, shrugging with a nonchalance Ezra did not feel. “I have to use my extensive romance skills for the power of good, don’t I?” 

“Okay,” said Ezra, agreeing before he could think better of it. “Yeah, sure. Uh—what about your servos?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “They can wait. Artoo, take a hike, why don’t you?” 

The astromech beeped with annoyance, propulsors burning as he booted himself out of the socket and onto the ground. 

[humans / status:stupid / R2-D2 visit C-3PO] he called as he rolled away. 

“Tell him hi for me!” called Luke as he went. Ezra swallowed hard, his heart pounding. 

Luke glanced at him, a tiny smile on his face. “You’re nervous?”

“No shit,” said Ezra, a little sharper than he meant to. 

Luke’s eyes widened. “Hey, no! Don’t be nervous. It’s just me.” 

Luke wasn’t just anything, Ezra thought to himself, but steeled himself and nodded. “Okay. Okay. How do I—um. How do I start?” 

“Well, pretend I’m a cute person you want to date,” said Luke. 

“Okay,” squeaked Ezra. 

“It’s good to do something charming on the approach. Like, play with their hair or put a hand on their cheek or something.” 

Luke was watching him with wide eyes, still perched on the pilot’s seat above him, and Ezra swallowed hard. He reached up, twisting a strand of Luke’s hair between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. 

“Like that,” said Luke, a little breathless. “Then, you just—”

He tilted his head down, and with a surge of reckless confidence, Ezra pushed up and met him halfway. Their mouths bumped against each other, lips pursed. Luke’s lips were warm and dry, pleasant against his. 

After a long—too long? Too short?—moment, Ezra pulled back. Luke’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Ezra was hypnotized. 

“That was—” Luke cleared his throat. “That was good.”

“It was?” asked Ezra, feeling desperate for guidance. “Not too stiff?” 

Luke considered it. “A little stiff. But that’s okay! Try tilting your head more.”

Feeling vaguely like he had entered an alternate dimension, Ezra nodded. “Yeah. Sure. I can do that.” 

Stupidly, Ezra pushed forward too quickly, just as Luke leaned in, and their noses bumped roughly against each other. A bolt of pain shot up Ezra’s nose. 

Ezra jolted back, mortified, and opened his mouth to apologize, but Luke was laughing, and suddenly Ezra was laughing as well. 

“Trying to kill me, Bridger?” said Luke, giggling. 

“Getting my revenge for you beating me in practice the other day,” said Ezra, a wide grin growing on his face. 

“You’re such an asshole,” laughed Luke. “I ought to—oh!” 

Ezra surged forward, trying again. This time, his lips met Luke’s a little neater, slotting against his easily. Luke let out a surprised gasp, one hand flying up to rest on Ezra’s cheek. 

Then, unexpectedly, Luke opened his mouth against Ezra’s, and Ezra could feel the warm, wet heat of his mouth. Heat pooled in Ezra’s stomach, and he might have made an undignified noise. 

Ezra pulled back, feeling wild, and grinned. “That one wasn’t so bad.” 

“Yeah,” said Luke. His cheeks were pink, his mouth slightly open. “I’ve—I’ve had worse.” 

“Oh, you’ve had worse,” said Ezra, rolling his eyes. “Nah, man, your standards are too high. That was great!” 

“My standards are adequately high,” laughed Luke. “Don’t be afraid to move a little more. Okay?” 

He returned his hand to its spot on Ezra’s cheek, tilting Ezra’s jaw up to brush their lips together once more. Ezra breathed through his nose, tilting his head as instructed, and tried parting his lips slightly against Luke’s mouth. 

Luke made a quiet noise. Their lips slid against each other, and it should have been strange, but instead it was nice, the pull of Luke’s skin against his. Luke’s hand slipped down, clutching the back of Ezra’s neck. 

“It’s nice when you hold onto someone as you kiss,” Luke breathed, pulling back a scant inch before pressing his mouth back against Ezra’s. He demonstrated, sliding his hand up and down Ezra’s neck, and goosebumps erupted down Ezra’s arms. 

Ezra raised his hands, floating indecisively for a moment before landing on Luke’s shoulders, thumbs brushing on the bare skin left exposed by his tank top. 

“Good,” Luke hummed approvingly, tilting his head to a new angle. Ezra’s blood hummed at the praise, and he was suddenly desperate to hear more. 

Ezra pushed forward, lifting himself up onto his knees to get a better angle. Luke made a surprised noise as Ezra was now above him, tilting Luke’s head back to kiss him even deeper. 

Yeah, Ezra could see the appeal—this was nice. Luke was making small breathy noises against him as he pressed their lips together hungrily, his hands landing on Ezra’s waist. Feeling daring, Ezra snuck his tongue out—something he’d heard of people doing, but never gotten the chance to try. He pressed his tongue flat against Luke’s lower lip, immensely pleased when Luke’s breathing hitched unsteadily. 

“Ez,” Luke murmured against Ezra’s mouth, and then Luke’s tongue was meeting his, and that was a sensation Ezra had never felt before—he gasped, overwhelmed at the sensation of blinding heat and slickness. 

Then, Luke was lurching back, eyes wide, and Ezra belatedly realized someone was shouting at the other end of the landing pad. He shoved Ezra unceremoniously, and Ezra winced as the back of his head hit the control panel. 

“What, Hobbie?” Luke snapped, leaning over the edge of his X-wing. His face was red as a beacon. 

“D’you have a spare arc probe I could borrow?” called Hobbie’s voice. Ezra sank down, back against the control panel, and considered the merits of digging a deep hole in the Yavin jungle and burying himself there. His face—and, well, the rest of him too—felt like it was on fire. Silently, he passed Luke an arc probe. 

“Catch,” said Luke, hurling the arc probe down at Hobbie. From the sound of it, it must have hit Hobbie in the face, because he gave a very undignified yelp. 

“Thanks, Skywalker. See ya!” 

“Bye, Hobbie,” said Luke tightly. He sank down in his pilot’s seat, still flushed bright red. 

“Um,” said Ezra. 

“So, uh, yeah!” said Luke brightly, clapping his hands together decisively. “Now you’re prepared for when you ask Tandi out.” 

Ezra’s brain felt slow and soupy, and he had to search for a long moment before he remembered who Tandi was and why he should care about her. 

“See?” said Luke, busying himself with neatening his tools, scattered on the floor of the X-wing where Ezra had tossed them carelessly off his lap as they kissed. “No-judgment practice. That’s what friends are for.” 

“Uh-huh,” said Ezra, blinking hard, trying to bring himself back into his own body. 

“Well, looks like the servos are done,” said Luke briskly. “I’ll just get the control panel back on—”

“Okay,” said Ezra. He and Luke stared at each other for a long, awkward moment before Luke fidgeted nervously, gesturing to him. 

“You’re in the way,” he said apologetically, and Ezra went red all over again. He lurched to his feet, accidentally crowding Luke’s space. Luke tipped backwards in his seat to keep Ezra from smacking face-first into him. 

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I think Chopper’s looking for me.” 

“You better find him, then,” said Luke. “Don’t want to get on his bad side.” 

“Uh, yup,” said Ezra. “See you—later?” 

Ezra was suddenly nervous that he’d screwed something up, that Luke wouldn’t want to be friends anymore after… whatever that was that just happened between them. But Luke’s face softened into a smile, and he nodded. 

“Later, Ez,” he said, grinning. Ezra levered himself over the side of the X-wing, forgoing the ladder and jumping with the Force to land safely. 

“Good luck with the servos,” Ezra called as he walked away, getting a final wave from Luke. He made it a safe distance away, pretending not to hear Hobbie’s called greeting, ducking behind a pillar. 

Ezra buried his face in his hands, doubling over and letting out a noise somewhere between a scream and a squeal. 

“What the fuck was that?” he hissed to himself, and had no answer.

They finally found out Rex’s secret project a few days later during Jedi training. It was Kanan and Obi-Wan teaching them that day, taking them through a brutal set of advanced forms supposedly meant to center their consciousness and connect them to the Force. 

“I don’t know how you can expect us to do the poses if gravity is actively working against us,” said Ezra, trying to balance on his hands as he held the handstand pose. He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye to see Luke balancing perfectly. 

Luke shifted his weight onto one hand, lifting his other hand to give Ezra an upside-down thumbs-up. Ezra groaned as he wobbled, barely keeping his balance. He had been half-excited, half-worried to see if things had changed since their impromptu X-wing… practice session the other day, but Luke had settled next to him at lunch the next day, every ounce the bubbly, upbeat Jedi he always was. They hadn’t talked about it, and Ezra was more than okay with that—it was too confusing to deal with. 

“Draw on the Force, Ezra,” said Kanan, smacking his calf gently as he walked past. Ezra sent an upside-down glare to his master, though it wasn’t as satisfying when he knew Kanan couldn’t see it. 

They were busy holding what Obi-Wan called the shyyyo bird pose, balancing on their hands with their legs tucked under them, when Ahsoka entered the room. 

“Good morning, dear,” said Obi-Wan pleasantly. Ezra peeked up from his position to see that Ahsoka had an uncharacteristically huge smile on her face. 

“Afraid I’m going to have to cut the training short today,” she said, face shining. Ezra tucked his chin to his chest and rolled forward into a sitting position, looking curiously at Ahsoka. 

“Why?” said Obi-Wan, nonplussed. He looked at Kanan, who shrugged. 

“Come with me to the hangar,” she said, pulling Obi-Wan by his hand. He followed her, confused and reluctant. 

“Oh, we were just in the middle of—”

“Not anymore,” she said. “Trust me on this one.” 

They followed Ahsoka to the hangar, her good mood infectious. Obi-Wan still seemed lost as to her intentions, but followed patiently. 

In the hangar sat an Omicron-class attack shuttle. Ezra watched as Rex came over to greet them, grinning widely. Sabine was with him, and she came to stand next to Ezra, squeezing his elbow. 

“Morning, General,” he said, clapping Obi-Wan on the shoulder. “Got some friends I think you might want to meet.” 

Luke sidled up next to Ezra, curiosity rolling off of him in waves. 

“Who do you think it is?” he whispered. 

“Maybe more of his clone brothers?” whispered Ezra back. “That could be why Rex is so excited?”

“Wait and see,” said Sabine, bouncing with excitement. 

The door of the shuttle opened—the first figure out was a young woman, maybe 30 or so, with brown skin and curly blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a set of painted armor and had a dark patterned tattoo on her chin. Her face was remarkably reminiscent of Rex’s—maybe she was the daughter of a clone? Behind her were two older clones—the first one had a faded skull tattoo covering half his face and held a cane in his hand as he walked. He was clearly battle-worn, but still strong and proud. The other clone stepped forward into the light, and Ezra saw he had graying hair, wrinkles around his eyes, and a curling scar that reached from his temple to his cheekbone. 

Ezra watched in shock as Obi-Wan gasped, a hand flying to cover his mouth and tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. He’d never seen so much emotion from the stoic Jedi in the whole time they had known each other. 

On the ship’s ramp, the clone with the tattoo nudged the one with the scar, urging him forward. The old clone had stopped in his tracks when he spotted Obi-Wan, but now moved down the ramp towards him. 

“Obi-Wan,” the clone said, emotions running deep in his voice. “Cyare, I—I’ve missed you.” 

Next to Ezra, Sabine gasped, her jaw dropping at the unfamiliar Mando’a word the clone used. 

“No fucking way,” she hissed, digging her fingernails into Ezra’s arm. 

“What?” demanded Luke, not wanting to be left out. “Who is that? What does that mean?” 

“Cody,” said Obi-Wan, voice filled with years of sadness. “I never thought I’d see you again.” 

“I—I’m sorry, General,” said the clone. “I never meant to leave you, I’m sorry—”

“Oh, my dear,” said Obi-Wan, unbearably tender. “I forgave you a long time ago.” 

He surged forward, drawing the clone into an embrace, one hand around his shoulders and the other bracing the back of his head. Cody collapsed into Obi-Wan’s arms, holding him tight. Rex and Ahsoka both had tears in their eyes as they watched the men reunite. 

“It’s so romantic I’m going to puke,” said Sabine, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I hoped it would go well, but this is amazing!” 

“Wow,” said Luke, watching the two men with stars in his eyes. “That’s so—I never knew Ben had someone, it’s beautiful!” 

Ezra tried to bite back a groan. Sure, it was romantic as hell, but his love life was in pretty bad shape if stuffy old men were getting more action than he was. 

“C’mon,” said Ahsoka. “We can talk in one of the meeting rooms—we have a great deal to catch up on. Omega and Hunter have a lot to share with us.” 

The small group, mismatched as they were, left the hangar, and Kanan stepped forward to shoo their onlookers away. 

“Alright, you rubberneckers,” he said. “Leave these folks alone and go get some lunch.” 

“Every time something interesting happens, we get told to shove off and go to the mess hall,” complained Luke, throwing up his hands. 

“Yeah, but we’ve got to tell Leia,” said Sabine. “She’ll freak out!” 

Luke’s face lit up. “Oh, I can’t wait to finally have some gossip she doesn’t already know,” he said. 

They made their way to the mess hall, where they found Leia with a datapad in one hand and a steaming cup of caf in the other, sitting at a table with her forehead wrinkled in concentration. 

“Put the work down,” said Sabine, waving a hand in front of Leia’s face. “We’ve got important gossip for you.” 

For all of her royal dignity and bearing, Leia was not one to turn down gossip. She set her datapad down on the table and raised an eyebrow at them. 

Sabine threw her hands in the air with a flourish, spinning dramatically. “They. Are. Gay!” 

“Who’s gay?” said Leia, quirking a smile. 

“Everyone,” said Sabine, lowering herself into the seat across from Leia. Ezra sat on her other side, Luke sitting next to Leia, dropping their lunch trays on the table. 

“Oh, everyone?” said Leia, snagging a fritzle fry off Luke’s tray and tossing it into her mouth. 

“Yup,” said Sabine, popping the P. “Newest editions to the club are General Kenobi and his clone boyfriend.” 

Ezra watched Leia’s face to see her reaction. To his dismay, she merely tilted her head, ate another fry, and said, “Yeah, I knew that.” 

“Banthashit you did,” said Ezra, slapping his palm down on the table. 

“You never told me that!” said Luke, hurt. He pouted at Leia, who laughed and stuffed a fry in his mouth. 

“Because she didn’t know!” insisted Ezra, gesturing wildly at Leia. “She’s trying to pull one over on you, honest—”

“I did too know,” she insisted, leveling a glare at Ezra. “Some of us know things, instead of blundering about stumbling into discoveries like you do.” 

“You are so mean,” said Ezra, digging into his sandwich. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was—the food at the mess hall left a lot to be desired, but as a nineteen-year-old quickly growing Jedi, he would eat whatever they gave him. 

“I’ve been talking to Rex for two weeks now about connecting with the former Clone Force 99—the remaining members, at least. They’ve been fighting the Empire basically since its founding, their advice is going to be invaluable.” 

“Isn’t Omega cool?” gushed Sabine. “Did you see her armor? It’s fucking badass.” 

“She is cool,” said Leia, inclining her head. “Wait until you see her fight with her energy bow. It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“Do you just know everyone?” said Ezra, throwing up his hands. 

“It’s my job, dumbass,” she said. 

“Ooh, do you know Ezra’s crush?” asked Luke, grinning. 

“Wha—Luke!” Ezra protested, flushing. 

“Oh, this I’ve got to know more about,” said Leia, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. 

“Tandi Piege,” said Sabine smugly. “Blue squadron X-wing pilot.” 

“You all are the worst,” Ezra said defensively. “I’ve met her once.”  

“But you think she’s cute,” said Sabine. 

Ezra sighed, defeated. “Yeah, I do think she’s cute.” 

“I don’t think I’ve spoken with her,” said Leia, thinking hard. “I did see her, though. I sat in on one of the Blue Squadron flight drills with General Syndulla. She flies well.” 

“Apparently nobody has any details on her besides ‘she flies well,’” said Ezra. 

“So let’s go to the tapcafé on Taungsday,” wheedled Luke. “You can get to know her!”

“Okay, Taungsday,” said Ezra. “Sabine, you in?”

“Sure,” she said. “Kanza gets back from her assignment that day, we’ll get drinks and celebrate.” 

“Luke, don’t forget,” said Leia, tapping him on the forehead. “Ben and Ahsoka said they want to talk to us tomorrow, after your Jedi training.” 

“Oh!” said Luke, and laughed. “I actually did forget. Did they say what they wanted to talk about?” 

“Not sure, actually,” said Leia, shrugging. 

“Can I come?” asked Ezra. 

“No,” said Luke and Leia in unison. Ezra scowled. 

“You guys suck. Everyone here sucks.”

“You don’t suck,” said Sabine, nudging him on the shoulder. Ezra brightened slightly. 

“You mean that?” he said, genuinely flattered. 

“Yeah, you don’t suck. ‘Cause you’re single,” said Sabine. Ezra groaned as Luke and Leia laughed. 

“I really should have seen that coming,” he said as Sabine cackled at her own joke. 

“You don’t see anyone coming,” Sabine fired back. “Because you’re—”

“Okay, karabast, Sabine, I get it,” said Ezra. But he was laughing despite himself, and the four of them howled with laughter until tears leaked from their eyes.

Ezra tried not to feel hurt the next day during Jedi training, when Ahsoka and Obi-Wan pulled Luke out early. He craned his neck to watch them go, desperately curious to see where they were going, half-tempted to crawl through the vents to listen in on their conversation. 

“Hey now,” said Kanan, amused. “You’ve still got three reps left.” 

“Bah!” said Jacen, waving his fists from his spot strapped in a carrier on Kanan’s chest. Kanan chuckled, taking his son’s fist in his hand and shaking it at Ezra. 

“Don’t disappoint Master Jacen now, E,” he warned. 

“You’re bribing me with the baby,” accused Ezra, speeding through the forms. “C’mon, we both know the reason you’re making me do so many forms is for Luke to learn them. I already know them!” 

“Yeah, but you don’t practice them enough,” said Kanan. “Your foot positioning needs work.” 

Ezra rolled his eyes. When they first started, Luke had asked, politely but curiously, how Kanan could teach them if he was blind and couldn’t see anything they were doing. Ezra had laughed out loud—his life would be so much easier if Kanan wasn’t so damn perceptive in the Force. 

“Okay, but you can’t tell me you aren’t curious about what they’re talking about,” said Ezra stubbornly. “I thought it was Jedi stuff, but they want to talk to the princess too, so I’m lost.” 

“You’re not going to get it out of me, so don’t bother,” said Kanan, bouncing Jacen lightly, swinging the baby’s feet with his hands. 

“Wait,” shouted Ezra. “Does that mean you already know?” 

“Maybe,” said Kanan mysteriously. 

“This is so unfair,” said Ezra, turning off his lightsaber and hanging it on his belt. “Jacey, you agree with me, right?” 

Jacen gurgled, which Ezra chose to believe was a noise of agreement. 

“Yeah, thought so,” said Ezra. “When I’m training you, I’ll never keep you away from interesting secrets. Pinky swear.” He stuck his pinky into Jacen’s small fist, making a face at the boy. He pulled away to see an unbearably soft smile on Kanan’s face. 

“What, what did I say?” said Ezra. 

“You wanna train him?” asked Kanan, and Ezra immediately flushed.

“I mean, yeah, I do,” he admitted. “When he’s old enough. I… yeah, I’d like that.” 

“I’d like that too,” said Kanan, squeezing Ezra’s shoulder. “You’ll be a great Jedi Master before too long.” 

Ezra felt his eyes water a bit, and hid a sniffle. “Yeah, obviously. I’m just made of pure talent over here, how could I not be?” he deflected. 

Kanan grinned at him, having seen very clearly through his posturing. 

“Hey, enough training for today,” he said. “Come walk with me?” 

“Is this a trick?” demanded Ezra. “You’re not going to throw me in a temple to fend for myself against some weird Jedi training stuff?” 

“No trick, I promise,” said Kanan, swinging an arm over Ezra’s shoulder, his free hand resting protectively on Jacen’s carrier. 

Ezra had to admit, it was nice to just walk with Kanan. With all the chaos of the last year, Kanan had essentially jumped from near-death experience to near-death experience, all while preparing to welcome a son into the world. Ezra knew that things would ramp up again soon, once the Empire stopped reeling from the destruction of the Death Star—but for now, he found himself enjoying the calm before the storm. 

“So,” said Kanan in that tone that made Ezra know he was up to something. “You wanna talk about Luke?” 

Ezra’s cheeks felt a little hot. “What about him? About training? He’s doing pretty well, I’d say—” 

“Nah, not about training,” said Kanan. “You know you can talk to me, right?” 

“I do talk to you!” Ezra insisted. 

Kanan huffed. “I mean about romance, E. I like to think I’d offer some pretty good advice.” 

“You did score the hottest woman in the galaxy, after all,” said Ezra. Kanan pinched his arm in retaliation, making Ezra yelp. 

“Don’t be disrespectful,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You are right, though—I absolutely did score the hottest woman in the galaxy.” 

“And made the cutest baby in the galaxy,” added Ezra. Jacen looked at him with big eyes, chewing on his tiny fist. “Who is now slobbering all over the baby carrier his Uncle Zeb made him.” 

“And now you’re dodging my question,” said Kanan, always too perceptive. 

Ezra let out a frustrated sigh, trying to sort his complicated feelings into words. “I don’t know! I just don’t know. I’ve been trying to date, but having fucking awful luck with it, and Luke kissed me the other night. And again a few days later. But I think it was a joke, or, like, a friendship kiss, because I’m pretty sure he has a crush on the princess. Which is fine, because I’m not sure I want to date him anyway. Because he’s my friend, and I don’t want to not be his friend. And there’s a million cute people in the world. Boys are hot, girls are hot, everyone is hot. And dating is so much pressure, anyway. I don’t want to be someone’s boyfriend, that sounds boring and stressful. What’s wrong with having a friend that you just kiss sometimes?” 

Kanan whistled. “Well, kid, I am pleased to report that everything you’re feeling is something a million other sentients have been experiencing for thousands of years.” 

“Not helpful,” said Ezra, glaring at him. 

“No, I mean it. I’ve seen it all—you’d be amazed at how much teenage romance drama I saw at the Temple. Remind me to tell you the story of Ahsoka’s first girlfriend dumping her in the dining hall in front of all the other padawans. But, the point is, things aren’t as complicated as they always seem. Well, they were for Ahsoka and Barriss, but I won’t get into that just yet. Most of the time, everything works out the way it needs to.”

“But it’s not just us teenagers who are stupid,” protested Ezra. “Like Zeb and Kallus. You can’t tell me they aren’t being stupid.” 

Kanan chuckled. “Zeb is a special case, I’ll give you that.” 

“So what do I do?” asked Ezra. “Do I see if I can date that girl from Blue Squadron? Luke said she likes me and keeps trying to set me up with her. Which is another confusing thing, by the way.” 

“Well, do you want that?” asked Kanan, and Ezra made a frustrated noise, running his hands down his face. 

“I don’t know, Kanan!” he groaned. 

Kanan laughed. “Okay, okay. Just—maybe stop thinking about it so much. Go with whatever the Force guides you to. The Force loves you, it won’t lead you wrong. It led you here, after all.” 

“I guess,” said Ezra. 

Ezra ended up getting lunch with Kanan, as Luke and the others still hadn’t reappeared from wherever they went to talk about secrets Ezra wasn’t privy to. He wasn’t too concerned about it, though, not when he was distracted playing with Jacen. Ezra used the Force to float Jacen’s favorite rattle around his head, delighting in the boy’s squeals every time the toy came back into sight. The game sent Jacen into a laughing fit, his hearty baby chuckles shaking his body and making his face turn red. Kanan and Ezra laughed along with him, until tears were streaming down Ezra’s face. 

Despite the distractions, Ezra was still eager to hear about Luke’s meeting, and wound his way to Luke’s quarters after lunch. 

As Ezra approached, he heard the door to Luke’s room slide open. Instinctively, he ducked back, out of sight. His stomach did something funny when he saw Leia Organa step out of the room. 

She turned to say something to Luke, quiet enough that Ezra didn’t catch it. Then she squeezed his hand, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Not dating, my ass,” Ezra muttered under his breath. He pulled back out of sight as Leia’s footsteps grew louder, acting casual, like he had just come down the hall. 

“Afternoon, Princess,” he called, raising a hand. She nodded at him, murmuring a greeting as she continued down the hall. She had a smile on her face, and her Force signature felt warm and pleased, if a little confused. 

Ezra continued down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of Luke’s door. Luke’s eyes widened and he laughed as Ezra nearly careened into the bulkhead. 

“Sorry I had to leave practice,” he said as Ezra righted himself. 

“What did you talk about?” demanded Ezra. “Tell me, tell me, tell me—”

Luke rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Not even gonna say ‘hi Luke, how’s your day going’ or anything?” 

“If I had a secret, I’d tell you,” said Ezra stubbornly. 

Luke laughed. “I know. Sorry, Ezra, it’s just—not yet. It was pretty big news, and I need a minute to wrap my mind around it.” 

Ezra felt a clench of worry in his stomach, remembering the half-overheard conversation between Ahsoka and Obi-Wan. “Is it… bad news?” he asked cautiously, mental images popping into his head of Anakin Skywalker’s killer coming back to finish off his son. 

Luke’s eyes widened. “No, nothing like that! It was… well, it was really good news, actually. Weird news. Unexpected news. But good news.” 

That only piqued Ezra’s curiosity further, and he groaned. “You’re literally killing me, Skywalker.” 

Luke chuckled. “I know, I know. I promise I will tell you, I just—it’s not only my news to share. If that makes sense?” 

“It doesn’t,” said Ezra. “But I get it. I’m super great at being patient.” 

Luke sent him an exasperated look. “You are literally the least patient person I know,” he reminded him. 

“I know, and I’m dying over here,” said Ezra. His mind was working overtime to figure out what the good-but-weird news could be, and how it involved Leia. He wondered if she and Luke were freaky Force-soulmates, or were being sold into an arranged marriage, or something. 

“More importantly,” said Luke, clapping his hands together. “Tapcafé tonight? C’mon, you promised.” 

“Yeah, I’m in,” said Ezra, thinking of seeing Tandi again. Maybe he’d finally get a proper kiss—or more. It made his brain feel weird to think about kissing Tandi when it was Luke’s face in front of him. He hoped Kanan was right that eventually, romance would make sense, because right now, it really super didn’t. 

“1900 hours?” said Luke. “Meet at the tapcafé?” 

“I’ll be there,” said Ezra, tossing him a quick salute. As much as he wanted to know Luke’s secret, that would have to wait.

As it turned out, Ezra was entirely late to meet Luke that night, and it was entirely Sabine’s fault, because she just had to decide to dye her hair hot pink with the new dye her girlfriend brought back from her assignment on Chandrila. Which was how Ezra ended up hunched over the tiny sink in the Ghost’s small ‘fresher, doing his best to rinse the dye out of Sabine’s poor tortured hair. 

On the upside, it did give him a chance to catch her up on the day’s happenings, and he launched into the story of his odd interaction with Luke and Leia from earlier. 

“—and that’s when I saw the princess coming out of his room, and swear to the Force, she kissed him on the way out!” 

Sabine made an interested noise—at least, Ezra thought she was interested. It was hard to tell with her face shoved halfway into the sink. 

“You’re getting pink on my hands, by the way. If you care,” complained Ezra as he scrubbed at the dye. 

“That’s on you, I told you to wear gloves,” said Sabine. “Was it a kiss on the lips?”

“No, the cheek,” said Ezra. 

“Ow, fuck, Ezra, watch it,” said Sabine, smacking at him blindly as he tugged accidentally. Ezra yelped—Sabine always hit hard. “I don’t know. Cheek kisses can be platonic.” 

“No, that’s weird,” insisted Ezra. “I’d never kiss you on the cheek.”

“I’d beat the shit out of you if you tried,” Sabine agreed. “Here, get this section now.” She twisted, trying to angle her head to let the stream hit a new part of her hair. 

“You talk to Leia a lot, right?” asked Ezra. “Do you think she likes him?” 

“Oh, I think I know who she likes,” said Sabine. “But I don’t think she realizes it yet. And it’s not Luke, I’ll just say that.” 

“You can’t tell me that and then not tell me who,” said Ezra, digging his fingers into Sabine’s scalp with more force than was strictly necessary. She responded by flinging water from her cupped hands at him. Ezra shrieked as the cold water hit his face—he was certain she didn’t even realize she was subconsciously using the Force to hit him dead-on. He almost mentioned it, but remembered her complaining about his “magic tricks” and decided not to push it. 

“Enough with them, what about you, E?” Sabine asked as Ezra dried his face. “You gonna finally get that drink from Blue Squadron Girl tonight?” 

“I mean, I guess,” said Ezra. “If she still wants—”

Sabine snickered. “Oh, she wants. You know she was asking Wedge about you the other day?” 

“Stop lying, Wren,” protested Ezra. 

“Dead serious! He told me she was all curious about what you do on base, who you spend time with… she totally wants to know if you’re single.” 

Ezra blushed, feeling warm and a little embarrassed to be on the receiving end of so much attention. Sabine finished in the sink, drying her hair off with a towel as she straightened and gave Ezra a calculating look. 

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” she asked. Ezra tugged self-consciously at his trusty orange jacket. 

“What’s wrong with it? It’s my favorite jacket!”

“It’s your only jacket,” said Sabine, exasperated. “You’ve been wearing it daily since you were, like, sixteen. There’s probably seven blaster holes in it.” 

“There’s two blaster holes, don’t be dramatic.” 

“Nope, absolutely not, we’re getting you something better to wear,” said Sabine, snapping her fingers at him. Ezra groaned. 

“None of Kanan’s shirts fit me, you know that,” he said. 

“Yeah, I’ll give you something from my closet,” said Sabine, dragging him down the hallway towards her room on the Ghost. “I have one in mind—”

“Seriously, Sabine?” 

“Yeah, seriously,” she said. “I’m trying to help you, asshole. Here, try this.” She flung a piece of fabric at his face, and Ezra grumbled as it hit him square-on. 

“This is made of mesh, Sabs, you can’t be serious—”

“Sure is,” she said. “Put it on.” 

“What goes underneath?”

Sabine snorted. “Nothing.”

“Come on!” protested Ezra. “I’m not wearing this!” 

“Look,” said Sabine, straightening and giving him a stern glare. “Do you want to enter your slut era or not?” 

“…I do,” admitted Ezra. 

“Then take your fucking shirt off!”

Ezra rolled his eyes but acquiesced, sliding his jacket off his shoulders with a small frown. 

“Are you going to turn around?” he demanded, fidgeting with the hem of his undershirt. 

“Nope,” said Sabine, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at him appraisingly. 

“I feel objectified,” he complained. 

“You don’t have tits, so I’m uninterested,” said Sabine. Ezra couldn’t argue with that, so he shrugged his shirt over his head. He shimmied the mesh shirt down, doing his best to wrestle his arms through the tight sleeves. 

“I take it back, you do have tits,” said Sabine, a smile in her voice. Ezra gave an undignified shriek, covering himself with one hand. “When did you get so buff?” 

“I’m going to kill you,” he hissed, flushing red and adjusting the shirt, which only came to his mid-stomach. “Can I at least have a jacket overtop?” 

“Yeah, alright,” said Sabine, tossing a black leather jacket at him. 

“Ooh, all black, very Sithy,” said Ezra, pulling the jacket over the mesh undershirt. He posed a bit in the mirror, not displeased at the full effect of the outfit. “Join the Dark Side, it’s more sexy.” 

Sabine was rummaging around in one of her drawers, and really, he should have known she wasn’t done with him yet. 

“Aha!” she said, raising her fist triumphantly. “One last touch, then we’re ready. Hold still.” 

Ezra tilted his head obediently as Sabine darkened his eyes with black eyeliner. It was far from the first time she had put makeup on him—whether for a mission or just her own entertainment—and he was fairly used to it by now. 

“Fucking smokeshow,” said Sabine approvingly, stepping back to take in her work. Ezra struck a pose, and she laughed. 

“Okay, now get out while I change,” she said, shoving him into the hallway. 

“You didn’t give me any privacy,” protested Ezra, but she slammed the door in his face. 

Ezra leaned against the door, trying to act casual as Hera started down the narrow Ghost hallway. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, her eyes traveling up and down his body, taking in his outfit with a raised eyebrow. 

“Hiiiiii, Hera,” he said sheepishly. Hera sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“I really don’t want to know,” she said tiredly. 

Ezra winced. “It’s just—”

“Nope, no, don’t tell me,” she said, waving him off. “Whatever teenage shenanigans you’re about to get into, I want nothing to do with. Please just don’t do anything that would get you court-martialed.” 

“I—” started Ezra, but Hera was having none of it. She waved him off, striding down the hallway away from him. 

“And use protection!” she called over her shoulder. 

Ezra buried his face in his hands, groaning with embarrassment. Behind him, Sabine emerged from her room, laughing mercilessly. She had changed into a paint-splattered jacket that complimented her newly-dyed hair and a pair of heavy boots. She shot finger guns at him, bounding down the ramp of the Ghost. Ezra followed, feeling extremely self-conscious at the thought of walking through the very public base in a skimpy mesh shirt, but nobody seemed to care much. 

They met Luke and Kanza, Sabine’s girlfriend, outside the tapcafé. Kanza waved excitedly at them—she was a pretty Pantoran girl with long, light-pink curls and gold-yellow markings on her cheeks. She bounded up towards Sabine enthusiastically. 

“Babe! The pink, I told you it would look good!” she squealed, throwing her arms around Sabine’s shoulders and giving her an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth. 

“We match now, babe,” said Sabine, lowering her voice to what Ezra called her “fuckboy tone,” always used when she was trying to charm her way into a girl’s pants. 

“You look so sexy, babe,” said Kanza, running her hands along Sabine’s shoulders. 

“It’s all for you, ba—”

“Fucking stop with that shit,” groaned Ezra, putting as much distance as he could between Sabine and Kanza. “Sorry, Luke, Sabine decided it was makeover time—”

He cut off, looking at Luke, who looked rather wide-eyed and speechless. Ezra realized with embarrassment that Luke was dressed far more simply than he was—Luke was wearing his yellow jacket, the one he got from Wedge when he first arrived on base, over a black t-shirt. 

“Shit, now I’m overdressed,” said Ezra, throwing his hands up. He turned to scold Sabine, but she was far too busy with Kanza. 

“No, no, you’re not!” said Luke, flushing pink. “No, it’s good, I’m underdressed. Look, I’ll fix it—” 

Luke’s hands flew to his hem, tucking the bottom half of the shirt up to expose his golden midriff. He brought one hand up to mess up his hair, leaving it ruffled and roguish, not un-Solo-like.

“Better?” Luke offered him a grin that made Ezra’s stomach do a cartwheel. 

“Uh, is the princess coming tonight?” he asked, aiming for an unconcerned tone. 

“Nah, she said she has too much work,” said Luke, shrugging. Ezra surveyed his face for any sign of disappointment, but didn’t see any.

“C’mon,” said Ezra, slinging an arm over Luke’s shoulders as they entered the tapcafé. “I need alcohol in my system as soon as possible.” 

The tapcafé had popped up a few months after Ezra and the Ghost crew first arrived on Yavin IV, built up in an unused hangar space. It had started just as a small bar with a few dusty bottles of whiskey scrounged up from whatever pilots had happened to have some with them when they arrived on base. Perhaps unsurprisingly, as more and more people joined the rebellion—mostly young, eager rebels in their teens or twenties—it grew and grew, until it became a proper bar-going experience. Tonight, someone had pushed all of the miscellaneous tables and chairs out of the way to create an impromptu dance floor, and Ezra spotted a four-armed Codru-Ji serving as DJ, blasting quenk rock so loudly that the walls rattled. 

“Does anyone know if Dodonna and Mothma are, like, okay with this?” shouted Ezra over the music. Luke grabbed his elbow, squeezing so he wouldn’t lose Ezra in the crowd as they pushed through. 

“They can’t blame us for celebrating our victories!” said Luke, leaning in close to Ezra’s ear to make himself heard. His breath brushed the shell of Ezra’s ear, and he shivered. “No major Imperial attacks in three weeks!” 

“Ezra! Luke!” came a cry to Ezra’s right, and he turned to see Wedge and Hobbie, sitting together at a table in the corner, huddled around a pitcher of something electric blue and probably extremely alcoholic. 

Ezra grinned, winding his way over to the pilots, Luke close behind him. He slid into the booth, clapping Wedge on the shoulder. 

“I see you raided Sabine’s closet,” said Wedge, taking in his mesh shirt and leather jacket. 

“Ugh, she insisted,” said Ezra, sliding the pitcher towards him. 

“You look great, man!” said Hobbie excitedly. “The girls are into the Corellian rocker look these days.” 

“Yeah, hey, that girl from Blue Squadron is here tonight,” said Wedge, nudging Ezra on the arm. “She’s so into you, Bridger.” 

“See? I told you,” said Luke, grinning widely. “Ezra isn’t convinced.” 

Ezra took a large swig out of the pitcher, a deceptively sweet drink that tasted vaguely of jogan fruit. 

“This just tastes like juice,” he commented, passing it to Luke. 

“Isn’t it great?” said Hobbie. “I call it the Yavin Volcano. May look dormant, but there’s a lot going on there under the surface!” 

“So what you’re saying is that it has enough liquor to kill a bantha,” laughed Luke. 

“Exactly,” said Hobbie, his eyes lighting up. Luke took a long swig, throat bobbing as he chugged. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave Ezra an amused glance. 

“Well, look what the tooka dragged in,” came a voice from the front of their table. Ezra turned, heart jumping, to see Tandi grinning at him. She looked extremely pretty, wearing a flowy blue shirt that showed her shoulders, her hair loose. She took in his outfit with an appreciative smirk. 

“Uh, hey,” said Ezra, rubbing a hand awkwardly along the back of his head. “Um. Hi.” 

Luke groaned quietly beside him, dropping his head down on the table. Ezra could hear Hobbie and Wedge laughing at him. His face flushed as he desperately tried to remember how to talk to cute girls. 

“How’s—do you wanna—do you wanna sit with us?” Ezra said, gesturing stiffly to the open seat next to him. 

“I’d love that,” she said, eyes glinting. She slid into the booth next to Ezra, angling her body towards him. He placed his hands on the table, fingers twitching nervously. 

“Hi, Tandi,” said Luke, leaning forward from behind Ezra. She gave him a quick, dismissive glance over before turning her attention back to Ezra. 

“I love your outfit,” she said, running a finger along the lapel of Ezra’s jacket. He laughed awkwardly, face going red. 

“Yeah, uh, you look nice!” he said. “Very, uh, pretty.” 

She giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. It was cute, and Ezra grinned. 

“Hey, let’s go get you that drink,” she said, shouting over the music as she pulled Ezra away from the booth. He glanced over his shoulder as she pulled him away. Hobbie gave him a huge grin and a double thumbs up. 

“What’s your poison?” she said, putting her mouth close to his ear. Her hand was on his shoulder, which felt nice. 

“Uh, whatever is fine,” Ezra called back. 

“How about a round of DC-17s?” she said, signaling to the bartender. 

“Sure,” Ezra called back. 

The bartender slid the shots across the counter to them. Tandi picked them both up, offering one to Ezra. He took it, tossing it back like he’d seen Han do. The effect was ruined slightly when the taste hit his tongue and he felt a full-body shudder run through him. If Tandi thought that was extremely uncool, she at least had the decency not to mention it. 

“It’s good,” Ezra lied, trying not to cough. 

Tandi giggled, grabbing Ezra’s hands. “C’mon—dance with me!” 

“Really?” asked Ezra, nonplussed. He stumbled as she pulled him out, the music blasting so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts. He glanced towards the booth to see Hobbie, Luke, and Wedge cheering him on. 

“Isn’t this fun?” said Tandi, shaking her head so her hair flew around her face. Ezra nodded, giving her an awkward thumbs up. 

Fuck, that was embarrassing, he thought, wincing. How do I dance anyway? 

He tried moving side-to-side, arms hovering awkwardly, bouncing slightly with the rhythm.

Fuuuuuucking fuck fuck, he thought. I need to find a roof and jump off of it so nobody will ever see me dancing ever again. 

Tandi reached out, linking her arms behind Ezra’s neck, shooting him a grin and a wink. Ezra’s heart rate shot into orbit, and his eyes went wide as he debated what he should do with his hands. 

He glanced over Tandi’s shoulder to see Hobbie signaling wildly at him, waving his hands over his head. Ezra shot him a look that said something along the lines of “oh gods please help me.” 

“Grab—her—waist!” Hobbie mouthed exaggeratedly. Ezra hesitated, unsure, hands hovering awkwardly. Annoyed, Hobbie reached out and grabbed Wedge around the waist, tugging him in for an impromptu demonstration. Wedge went scarlet-red, smacking Hobbie’s hands away and saying something outraged as Luke doubled over in laughter watching them. Wincing and hoping he wasn’t about to get similarly smacked, Ezra carefully rested his hands on Tandi’s waist. 

He breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when she didn’t shove him away, continuing to sway back and forth with her hands around his neck. It wasn’t so bad, actually—it felt nice to hold onto her waist, to occasionally feel her torso brushing against his. She nudged her nose against his cheek, and he blushed deep red. 

The music pounded around them, the heavy beat rattling in his ribcage. Ezra couldn’t help but seek out Luke across the room—he was saying something to Wedge, laughing, and Ezra’s breath caught. He seemed to glow in his yellow jacket, his light hair and skin standing out like a beacon in the dark room. His gaze lingered for a moment too long, and Luke turned towards him. Their eyes caught, and a fizzling spark ran through Ezra’s veins—probably the alcohol hitting his system. 

He froze for a moment, uncertain, and then Tandi was spinning him, and Luke slid out of view. Ezra shook himself—he was being stupid. He had a cute girl in front of him, dancing with him—there was no reason to keep staring at his friend across the room. His handsome friend who kissed him. Yeah. No reason at all. 

He focused on Tandi, on her dark hair, which smelled like flowers. On the soft curve of her face, on her lips turning up in a small smile. She grinned at him, wrinkling her nose playfully, and he wanted to kiss her—he did want to kiss her, and he kind of wanted to kiss Luke, and he kind of wanted to kiss a thousand attractive strangers, and that was really the problem, wasn’t it?

If Tandi was aware of his internal dilemma, she didn’t show it, choosing instead to swing around with him, tossing her head back and letting the music wash over her. 

She leaned towards him, her arms still around his neck, and Ezra’s heart rate skyrocketed. He leaned in jerkily, half-frightened and half-excited, trying to remember what Luke had taught him—and then her face creased in a frown and she pulled back. 

Ezra’s stomach dropped, not sure what he did wrong, and he opened his mouth to apologize. 

“Sorry,” she called to him over the pounding of the music. “My comlink—gotta take this—” She slid a blinking comlink out of her pocket, gesturing apologetically with it. 

Ezra breathed a quiet sigh of relief—he didn’t ruin it. He couldn’t blame her for taking the call, either—being in a rebellion meant you were never really off-duty. He watched stupidly as Tandi slipped away through the mass of bodies, suddenly uncertain of what to do next. Did he stand there and wait for her to come back? 

“Hey!” snapped a familiar voice in his ear, and he turned to see Sabine standing behind him, holding two drinks and glaring at him. “Where’d your girl go?” 

“She’s not my girl!” Ezra protested, gesturing wildly. “She had to take a call.”

Sabine’s eyes narrowed. “A call is more important than this fucking hottie right here?” she said, gesturing to Ezra with one hand. Ezra rolled his eyes, reaching out and snatching the drink from her hand, chugging the contents until the cup was empty. He’d need some more liquid courage to get through this night. 

“Bitch, that was for Kanza,” Sabine protested, and then Ezra grabbed the second drink and threw that back too. 

“Ezra!” called Luke, materializing behind him, eyes wide. “Why—she walked away!” 

“Yeah, I saw,” said Ezra, wiping his mouth as he shoved the two empty cups back into Sabine’s hands. She scoffed at him, tossing the empty cups over her head. They landed somewhere in the crowd behind them, prompting a displeased noise from the partying rebel they hit. 

“You gotta get her back!” demanded Sabine. “Impress her! Do something sexy so she hangs up on her ex or her dad or her commanding officer or whoever it is!” 

“I don’t do sexy things!” said Ezra, going rather dizzy as the drinks hit his stomach. “I’m not a sexy person!” 

Luke and Sabine sent him twin looks of disbelief, their eyebrows raising in unison. 

“Hey,” snarled a tall Devaronian rebel behind them, almost stumbling into Luke. “Dance or get off the floor!” 

“Mind your fucking business!” Sabine fired back, still glaring at Ezra. The music changed to an upbeat glitpop tune. 

“You are mean as hell tonight,” Ezra said to her. 

“And every night!” she said proudly. 

“Here,” said Luke, reaching out to snag him by the shoulders, much like Tandi did to him earlier. Ezra’s stomach did a barrel roll. “C’mon, Ez. Dance with me!” 

“Um,” said Ezra. 

Luke’s eyes were glinting with something Ezra couldn’t decipher as he leaned in. Ezra’s head spun. 

“You should kiss me,” Luke said, and Ezra nearly fell over. 

“What?” he said stupidly. What about Leia? he wanted to ask.

“Just for fun!” Luke explained quickly. “Girls think it’s hot when guys make out with each other. Makes them all hot and bothered.” 

“You’re joking,” said Ezra. His heart was pounding in his chest. 

“I’m not!” said Luke. “Hey—Kanza, you’re bi, right?” 

Sabine’s girlfriend appeared next to her, and Sabine slung an arm around her waist. “Yeah, why?” she said. “Babe, where’s my drink?” 

“Ezra stole it,” said Sabine with an eye roll. 

“Important question,” said Luke, shouting over the music. “You’re into guys—do you think it’s hot when two boys make out?” 

Kanza’s eyes lit up. “Um, fuck yes it is!” 

“Really?” said Ezra, feeling desperately left behind. 

“Incredibly,” said Kanza, biting her lip. “Ooh, I could watch boys kiss all day.” 

Sabine snorted. “Hell, I’m a dyke and even I think it’s pretty hot,” she said. 

“And if you were only sort of into a guy, but he started making out with a boy, would you be more into him because of that?” demanded Luke. 

Sabine laughed loudly, catching on. “That’s one strategy!” 

“I’m being so honest when I say I absolutely would,” said Kanza. 

Ezra risked a glance to where Tandi stood, speaking urgently into her comlink. She wasn’t looking at him, her face turned away. 

“For the last time!” called the Devaronian who ran into them earlier. “Are you kids gonna dance or what?” 

“We’re working on it, Hek!” snapped Sabine. “Ezra, you know what you gotta do!” She pointed two fingers at her own face, then snapped them around to point at Ezra before Kanza grabbed her by the neck, pulling her into the fray. 

“Holy shit,” Ezra muttered quietly to himself. The music was bright and glittery, so loud he could barely hear himself think—his head was cottony from the noise and the alcohol. He felt a little like he was drifting through a dream. 

If it was a dream, it was a good one—Luke moved effortlessly with the music in front of him, tossing his arms over his head, moving gracefully and smoothly. His limbs were long, his smile bright, all tanned skin and softly-toned muscles. He looked possibly more attractive in that moment than any human ever had. 

Fuck it, Ezra thought. He was a Jedi Motherfucking Knight, who defeated Grand Admiral Thrawn not-so-singlehandedly and, even braver, delivered his own nephew without passing out. He took two large steps forward until he was crowding Luke’s space, hands sliding under his jacket to rest along the bare skin of his midriff. 

Luke made a pleased noise, biting his lip and resting his arms around Ezra’s neck. He glanced up, bright blue eyes blinking through his long eyelashes. 

“Hey,” he murmured, and Ezra could hear him clear as day despite the loud music. “If you don’t want to—I was just suggesting, really—” 

“I want to,” said Ezra before he could think better of it, and Luke made a squeaking noise. 

Ezra silently hoped Luke would take the lead, his heart in his throat. Making out with Luke on the dance floor felt different than anything they’d done before—nothing like the quick peck Luke had given him the other week, nor their awkward attempts at kissing in Luke’s X-wing. The music swirled around them, until it felt like they were drifting in a cloud, separate from the rest of the world. 

“Hi,” said Ezra, grinning as they swayed with the rhythm. 

Luke grinned at him, and suddenly Ezra didn’t feel quite as nervous. “Hi,” Luke said back. 

“So do we—” started Ezra, and then Luke was leaning forward and catching him in an open-mouthed kiss. 

Ezra was glad that the music was so loud around them, because it concealed the desperate noise he made. Luke’s mouth was warm, and he tasted sweet. His arms were tight around Ezra’s neck, and Ezra could distantly hear a few wolf-whistles from the rebels dancing around them. 

Luke murmured something quiet against his lips, tilting his head to kiss Ezra deeper. Ezra tugged involuntarily on Luke’s waist, bringing their bodies flush together, and Luke hummed approvingly. 

Ezra’s brain was very quickly losing all its higher functioning powers as Luke’s tongue slipped against the seam of his lips. He opened his mouth, sighing, and Luke’s tongue pressed against his, wet and indulgent.

“Get some!” shouted a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sabine. Ezra didn’t want to pull away to verify. The heat of Luke’s mouth against his was intoxicating, sending electricity down his spine. Luke crowded tight against him, torso pressing sinuously against Ezra’s, and Ezra could feel the warmth of his chest against his skin, bare under his stupid mesh shirt. 

“Luke,” he murmured, open-mouthed against Luke, their tongues brushing. It was overwhelming in the best way—his body was on fire all over, his pants suddenly feeling too tight. He tightened his fingers on Luke’s waist, brushing the warm bare skin there. He couldn’t get close enough—he needed more. Luke was unbelievable—stunning in his perfection, like a sun descended to the planet’s surface. 

Luke’s hands inched up, lacing in Ezra’s curls and pulling tight. The tug on his scalp had Ezra moaning into Luke’s mouth, his limbs tingling from the pleasure. Ezra wondered if it was possible to die on the spot from this—there was a good chance his heart would give out and his ghost would float blissfully to wherever ghosts went. 

Ezra couldn’t stop his hips from twitching forward—he was distantly aware that he should pull back, that there was a line between friendship and not-friendship, and that they had just barreled over that line with the speed of a starfighter. But Luke didn’t pull away, lips sealed against Ezra’s, their bodies pressed together from hip to chest. 

Then, it was over as soon as it began—Luke was stumbling backwards, his eyes wide and his hair askew. He and Ezra stared at each other for a long moment, silent, as the music pounded around them—then Luke turned and disappeared into the crowd. 

“Wait,” called Ezra desperately, shouldering past partying rebels to try and go after him. A few of them made displeased noises, others looking interestedly, trying to follow whatever interesting new drama was happening in front of them. 

“Luke, slow down!” he tried, but his words were lost in the music. He stumbled, dizzy, quickly realizing that he was drunker than he had initially thought. He turned to apologize to the rebel he fell into, and when he turned back around, he couldn’t see Luke anywhere. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, head spinning. The rebel gave him an offended look, shaking him off, and Ezra suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He shook himself, looking back to where Tandi had stepped away to earlier—he’d have to apologize to her for leaving, but he couldn’t stand the thought of being on the crowded dance floor for one more moment. He searched for where he had seen her earlier—nothing. She seemed to have disappeared just like Luke. 

Ezra distantly registered that he should check in with his friends, get a glass of water, something—but the need to escape the room was too urgent, and he stumbled out of the hangar into the cool, humid night air. He flopped down onto a low stone wall, his head in his hands, panting and miserable. The alcohol churned in his stomach, and he made himself a silent vow never to drink again. 

“You okay, fella?” called a passing rebel, and Ezra waved them off. He stood unsteadily, weaving his way away from the tapcafé in the direction of the Ghost’s landing pad. He knew he should go back to his quarters on base—Hera, Kanan, and Jacen always turned in early these days, and they would be royally pissed if he woke them up stumbling around in the Ghost—but he couldn’t stomach the idea of walking through those brightly-lit hallways, crossing paths with a hundred interested faces. 

His throat felt tight as he walked, frustration and disappointment biting in his chest. It was so like him to screw up his chances with Tandi and Luke in one fell swoop, wasn’t it? He stumbled, legs unsteady from drink, and caught his foot on a jutting bit of stone as he stepped onto the landing pad. He swore loudly as pain jolted up his shin, hopping forward to keep himself from falling. His head spun and his stomach churned. 

“Okay, Drunk Ezra,” he muttered to himself, eyeing the Ghost’s ramp. “You can do this. Quiet. Down the hall. Into bed.” 

His clumsy hands tried three times before successfully entering his door access code. The lights inside were dim, soothing his tired eyes. Ezra crept forward, head spinning as he kept his eyes on his feet. Reaching the kitchen, he sighed with relief—a moment too soon. 

“Karabast, kid, where the hell have you been?” 

Ezra shrieked, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise, and spun towards the table. Zeb was up late, nursing a bottle of Corellian ale and playing a card game on his datapad. 

Zeb’s nose wrinkled as he looked Ezra up and down. “You look like a fuckin’ Corellian club rat,” he said, unimpressed. 

“Save the lecture, Zeb, I just want to go to bed,” Ezra said tightly, swaying on the spot. Zeb’s forehead creased, and he leaned forward on his elbows. 

“You okay, E?” he asked lowly. “No judgment. But you look like shit.” 

Something in his tone was too much for Ezra to bear, and he slapped a hand over his eyes. “I’m not okay, Zeb, I’m not, I—I think Luke hates me now, I fucked up, I can’t get anything I want and I don’t know what I want and I’m drunk and I’m sad—and—and—I stubbed my fucking toe!” 

Zeb’s eyes widened as Ezra’s chest hitched, and then tears were sliding down his face. He ducked his head, embarrassed, but couldn’t stop the outpouring of emotions. 

“So just—fucking—don’t tell Kanan, okay?” said Ezra desperately, furiously wiping at his tears. “I don’t—I’m a disappointment, to everyone, I already know that, so I don’t need to hear it from you guys too—” 

“Ezra,” said Zeb cautiously. 

“And I’m never drinking again! And I’m never taking advice from Sabine again! And I’m never wearing this stupid fucking mesh shirt ever again, I’d rather stand in blaster fire, and I—” 

Zeb sighed gustily before standing from his seat at the table. He took two large steps across the kitchen, and then he was crushing Ezra to his chest in a tight hug. Ezra’s breath caught, and then he was sobbing against Zeb’s chest. 

“Alright, kid,” said Zeb cautiously. “No need for all of that.” 

Ezra tried desperately to rein himself in, hiccuping as he gasped for breath between sobs. Zeb, surprisingly gentle, led him over to the table, pulling him down, Ezra’s head still nestled in his shoulder. 

“S-sorry,” he stuttered. “Bet you think I’m pretty stupid for this—” 

Zeb huffed. “The only thing you’re stupid for is thinking that I don’t have your back, kid,” he said gruffly. “C’mon. Lemme get you a glass of water.” 

“Okay,” said Ezra wetly. He accepted the cool glass of water gratefully, chugging it down. 

“Slow, slow,” said Zeb. “If you vomit, you’re fuckin’ cleaning it up yourself, you hear me?” 

“Thanks, Zeb,” he said as he finished the glass, feeling marginally more human. “Sorry.” 

Zeb rolled his eyes. “How many times? Stop fuckin’ apologizing, will ya?” 

Ezra rolled his eyes right back. “I will when you stop being annoying.” 

Zeb chuckled. “There’s my guy. You wanna… talk, or you just wanna sleep?” 

“I dunno,” said Ezra. He leaned back, letting his head thunk against the back of the seat. “I’m beginning to think Kanan has the right idea with the whole sobriety thing.” 

“Nah, not for me,” said Zeb with a chuckle. “I like beer too much.”

“Zeb, what do you do if you really want to kiss someone but you also want to keep being his friend and you’re trying not to make the kissing part ruin the friendship part?” Ezra asked, closing his eyes. 

“Oh, uh—” said Zeb. His voice sounded a little sad. “Yeah. I dunno what to tell you, kid. Really not the best guy to ask.” 

They sat in silence for a long moment before Zeb chuckled quietly. 

“Hey, if you find out, you let me know, okay?” he said softly. Ezra’s senses were still somewhat clouded by the alcohol, but he turned towards Zeb, looking at him thoughtfully. Zeb seemed uncertain—his shoulders were hunched, and he picked at the label on his beer bottle with his claws. 

“You should tell Kallus how you feel,” Ezra said, and Zeb’s eyes widened. 

“What?” he demanded. “No, that’s—I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid, that’s—” 

Ezra giggled. “Saaaashaaaaa.” 

“Hey,” said Zeb gruffly. “Cut that shit out.” 

“You like Sasha,” Ezra said, snorting with quiet laughter. Zeb punched him on the arm, not too hard, and Ezra slid sideways in the booth, giggling. 

“Don’t see me getting all involved in your love life,” Zeb grumbled. 

“Yeah, but your blondie likes you back,” muttered Ezra from the booth, curling his legs up to his chest. “Mine is just a weird good friend who runs away from me and gets all embarrassed and might be dating a literal princess.” 

Zeb spluttered. “You’re drunk as hell, kid. Dunno why I’d listen to you, anyhow.” 

“Yeahhhhh,” slurred Ezra. “I like drinking.” 

“Two minutes ago you said you’re never drinking again,” Zeb reminded him, leaning over to glare at him. “Don’t you fuckin’ fall asleep here, either—I’m not carrying your ass to bed.” 

“But I’m sleepy,” Ezra protested. 

“You need a shower,” said Zeb, poking a claw into his side. Ezra yelped. 

“Okay, compromise,” said Ezra, kicking his feet at Zeb. “I’ll shower and go to bed, if you tell Kallus you totally have a crush on him.” 

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists,” said Zeb, poking him again, and Ezra laughed. 

“I’m going,” said Ezra, pushing himself up, groaning as his head spun. 

“Hey, kiddo,” said Zeb, surprisingly soft. “Chin up, okay? Get some sleep—it’ll all make more sense in the morning.” 

“Thanks, Zeb,” said Ezra, leaning sideways to rest his head on Zeb’s shoulder. “You’ll make a good dad someday.” 

Zeb went still. “Y’think so?” 

“Yup,” said Ezra, standing and placing his glass in the sink. “Annoying. But good.” 

“Aw, get your ass to bed,” said Zeb, waving him off. “Always in my fuckin’ business. Karabast, you’re a pain.” 

Ezra laughed. “Don’t you forget it!” he called quietly over his shoulder as he found his way to the ‘fresher.

Ezra did feel a little better in the morning, after he drank enough water to drown a fish, washed the last of the smudged eyeliner off his face, and ate a heaping breakfast of Kanan’s famous nerf bacon omelette. It didn’t make the whole Luke thing make any more sense—that was still just as confusing as ever. 

He quickly realized that Luke was avoiding him—a deeply disappointing feeling that sent his stomach sinking down to his feet. He first noticed it as he walked with Sabine towards the munitions storage hangar—his heart leapt as he caught a glimpse of Luke walking through a corridor near them, and he opened his mouth to say hello. Before he could get a word out, Luke noticed him, eyes widening, and he dodged down a side hallway and out of sight. 

“Oh, fuck that,” said Sabine vehemently, noticing the downtrodden look on Ezra’s face. 

“Don’t start, Sabs,” he said tiredly. “If he wants space, I’ll give him space.” 

Sabine scowled, but didn’t push the matter. 

Ezra survived a whole day and a half avoiding Luke—Yavin Base was big enough that he could knock out his normal routine without bumping into him. He also didn’t see Tandi—he hadn’t seen or heard from her since she disappeared off the dance floor. There was a small part of Ezra that felt disappointed, but the far larger part of his focus was caught entirely on Luke. Tandi seemed bland and uninteresting in comparison to Luke, and Ezra found he wouldn’t mind much if their initial attempts at conversation trailed off. 

It was early afternoon the second day after Luke kissed him and ran when things started getting unavoidable. Ezra was steadfastly ignoring the fact that Luke was steadfastly ignoring him as they sat on opposite ends of a long table in the mess hall, tucking into his ronto wrap and chatting fake-casually with Sabine. Being Sabine, she was absolutely aware that he kept glancing obsessively down to Luke’s side of the table, watching him talk quietly with Leia at his side. 

“I told you already, I don’t think they’re dating,” she muttered to him, glaring as she picked at her lunch. 

“Sure fucking looks like they are,” said Ezra back, a pit in his stomach. “They spend all their time together, he talks about her like she hung the stars in the sky, she kisses him on the cheek, they can practically read each other’s minds—and then he freaks out and runs away when he kisses me? C’mon. I’m not stupid, Sabine.” 

Sabine hummed doubtfully at that, and Ezra glared at her. 

“Listen. I’m just saying, I just don’t think he’s into her! Guys who are into girls do not give their guy friends kissing lessons in their X-wings.” 

Ezra blanched, dropping his ronto wrap onto his plate. “You—how the fuck did you know about that?” 

“I know everything,” said Sabine, raising an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know why he’s being weird and nervous, though. Commitment issues? Self-confidence problems? Oh, maybe he’s got Bothan Nether Rot.” 

Ezra rolled his eyes as Sabine snickered. “Listen, Sabine, I just don’t think—” 

“Hold on,” said Sabine, turning in her seat. Around them, heads were turning, and Ezra registered raised voices a few tables down from them—familiar raised voices. 

“Aw, shit,” said Ezra. “They’re arguing again?” 

“Kal, if you’d just slow the hell down—” Zeb said loudly, reaching out for Kallus as he stood from their table. 

“I’ve told you many times, Garazeb, I’m fine—” 

“Ooh,” said Sabine, standing to get a better view. She was not the only one—as a rule, rebels loved drama more than anything else, and many heads were turning interestedly towards the high-volume argument interrupting their lunches.  

“You’re clearly not fuckin’ fine, Kal! I’m trying to help you—” 

Ezra winced as Zeb growled angrily, grabbing at Kallus. Kallus wrenched his arm out of reach, stumbling away from Zeb, a cloudy look on his face. 

“Why?” he demanded, his voice ringing through the mess hall. “Why? Why do you care so much?” 

“Oh my gods,” hissed Sabine, one fist pressed to her mouth. Ezra’s eyes flicked back and forth between Zeb and Kallus, hanging on to every word. 

“Don’t you get it, Sasha?” said Zeb, desperate affection clear in his gruff voice. “I love you!” 

The mess hall went silent, save for a few gasps from watching rebels. Kallus’ jaw dropped, and Zeb’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just done. 

“I—” he said, eyes darting around the room. His gaze landed on Ezra for a brief moment, and Ezra tossed him a frantic double thumbs-up in encouragement. “Yeah. I’m in love with you, Sasha, and I’m not hidin’ it any longer. That’s… all I have to say.” 

“Zeb,” said Kallus in a small voice. “You—since when?” 

Zeb shrugged halfheartedly. “Long time. Longer than I should. Think I’ve loved you a little since that time on the ice moon—I’m stupid like that.” 

“You love me,” said Kallus, his voice shaky, and then he was flying forward, throwing his arms around Zeb’s neck and kissing him hard on the mouth. Zeb kissed him back, wrapping his arms around Kallus’ waist and lifting him fully off the ground.

The room erupted. Rebels hollered and cheered, applauding at the declaration they just witnessed. Sabine stood on her seat, putting her fingers in her mouth and whistling loudly. Ezra couldn’t help but laugh, clapping along with the rest of the room. 

“He did it!” Ezra shouted. “He really fucking did it!” 

After a long moment, Kallus and Zeb pulled apart, arms wrapped around each other. They seemed to simultaneously realize exactly how many eyes were on them—Kallus went a magnificent shade of crimson, and Zeb laughed awkwardly, rubbing a hand along the back of his head. 

“Get outta here, lovebirds!” someone shouted, and the crowd laughed. Kallus buried his head in Zeb’s shoulder, and Zeb glared in the direction of the shouter. 

“None of y’all in this damn rebellion know how to mind your kriffin’ business!” Zeb bellowed, but he was grinning widely. He carted Kallus off, who still seemed overcome with emotion, and the crowd cheered as they left. 

“I told him Kallus liked him back!” cried Ezra, punching the air. 

“Oh, Kanan’s going to be so mad he missed this,” laughed Sabine triumphantly. 

Ezra’s eyes automatically sought out Luke, wondering if he’d be pleased, if he was as amused and heartwarmed by this as Ezra—their eyes met for a brief, electric moment, then Luke was dropping his head, tearing his bright blue gaze away from Ezra’s. 

Ezra’s heart deflated like a popped balloon as he remembered that they weren’t talking. As happy as he was for Kallus and Zeb, he couldn’t deny the ache in his chest—everyone around him was in love but him. Every day, a thousand new Rebellion romances popped up, for everyone except Ezra. 

Perhaps it was this line of thinking that got him into trouble—or maybe it was his own sheer terrible luck. 

He was working in one of the larger hangars, helping Wedge install a new hyperdrive engine into his X-wing and trying to ignore Luke a few ships down when Wedge looked up somewhere behind him, nudging him with a grin. 

“Huh?” said Ezra, glancing up from the engine. 

“Hi, Ezra,” said a voice from behind him, and Ezra turned to see Tandi standing there, wearing her flight suit and grinning playfully at him. 

“Oh,” he said, then bit back a wince at his own lack of enthusiasm. “Hey, Tandi. How’s your day going?” 

“Pretty good,” she said, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. “You look like you’re working hard!” 

“Not too hard,” said Wedge, raising his eyebrows at Ezra. 

“I mean, kinda hard,” said Ezra. He felt sweat bead on his forehead—who knew that talking to girls would actually be more confusing and less enjoyable than fighting Inquisitors? Should he mention how she ran off at the club the other night? Was she mad that he had kissed Luke? Did she still want to date him? 

Seemingly oblivious to Ezra’s tension, Tandi giggled playfully. “Oh, can’t I steal you for a sec, Ez? So we can talk… in private?”  

Ezra’s hackles raised at the nickname—he liked it much more when Luke said it. Counterintuitively, it was the thought of Luke that had him pushing to his feet, shooting Tandi a grin he didn’t quite believe. He felt rather than saw Luke’s interest in their conversation, feeling his eyes on Ezra’s back like a brand. 

“You know what?” he said. “I am free now, actually.” 

Tandi giggled again, wrinkling her nose at him. “You’re the best! C’mon!” She reached out, snagging his hand in hers, and led him out of the hangar. Ezra turned back to give Wedge a mock salute as he went. Wedge saluted him back, encouraging him—then Ezra’s eyes caught on Luke’s for a long second, registering his wide and disappointed eyes. 

Well, that’s what you get, Ezra thought ungraciously, turning back to Tandi. She led him out of the hangar into the woods, the cool darkness closing behind them as they walked away from base. 

“I’ve been so excited to get you alone, Ez,” she said, and Ezra’s eyebrows shot up. His previous interest in kissing her seemed to have fully evaporated—any magic she had possessed had disappeared, leaving Ezra with a mild distaste for her voice and mannerisms. 

“Yeah, about that,” he said, following her into a clearing. “Listen, Tandi, I like you a lot, but—mmph!” 

Ezra startled as Tandi leapt forward, pressing their lips together into an underwhelming, oddly sweet-tasting kiss. He pushed her gently back by the shoulders, trying not to wrinkle his nose too obviously. 

“Well. That was—uh. Kind of you? But I’m—I’m not—” 

Ezra shook his head, feeling a little fuzzy and taken off-guard by the unexpected kiss. Something prickled at the back of his neck—some sort of awareness, a moment too late. Tandi kept smiling at him, but it wasn’t cute anymore—it was more of a smirk, really.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna—” said Ezra, his brain feeling mushy. “I don’t really, uh, like you that way?” 

Tandi rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to like me, you just need to go to sleep.” 

“Uh, nooo,” said Ezra. His head spun, and he groaned. His lips tasted kind of flowery—a strange perfumed feeling. This wasn’t great. “I’m not gonna—no sleeping—”

He reached for his lightsaber, but Tandi’s hand darted out, snatching it off his belt. She tossed it into the air with one hand, evaluating him with bright, cold eyes. 

“Too slow, Bridger,” she said, and Ezra opened his mouth to call for help—but then darkness rolled in from the edges of his vision, and he hit the ground.

Ezra’s consciousness slowly crept back in—he registered the hum of an engine, the cool feeling of metal pressing against his cheek, the bite of binder cuffs on his wrists. He jolted up, wincing at the pounding in his head. 

“Fuck me,” he muttered, closing his eyes and letting his chin drop to his chest. “Hera’s gonna be so pissed at me.” 

“Welcome back, Bridger,” called a clear voice, and then Tandi was tucking her fingers under his chin and forcing him to look at her. She had changed into—naturally, because Ezra’s life was a shitshow—a crisp white ISB uniform.

“Go fuck yourself,” he said politely, and she scoffed. 

“Hope you’re comfortable, because you’re staying like that the whole way back to Coruscant,” she said. “And those are Force-suppressing binders, by the way, in case you get any funny ideas.” 

“If you think you’re home safe, I wouldn’t count on it,” Ezra said, eyes darting around the ship to try and categorize what he could see. It was clearly a small ship, as Tandi was the only visible crew member besides a black astromech visible in the open door to the pilot’s cockpit. There was some sort of a cargo hatch behind him and a small seating area, but nothing else. He pulled at his cuffs, finding them attached solidly to the floor. 

“Oh?” she said, switching her voice effortlessly between cute-fun-rebel Tandi and evil-scary-Empire Tandi. “Are your little Rebel friends going to come find you?” 

“Maybe,” said Ezra. He tugged experimentally at the Force, his stomach sinking when he found nothing but a plain void. Wherever she’d found the cuffs, they seemed to work. “Why me, though? Lots of other hotshots on base.” 

Tandi smirked. “The Empire’s very interested in the Jedi who took out Grand Admiral Thrawn.” 

Ezra snorted. “More like Grand Admiral Bitch.” 

Tandi’s face screwed up as her cheeks flushed red. “The Grand Admiral was a decorated war hero, you—you—rebel scum! He’s not a bitch! And that insult isn’t even clever!” 

“Well, I didn’t want to kiss you anyway,” snapped Ezra, which wasn’t a very good comeback, but he still enjoyed saying it. Tandi rolled her eyes, unimpressed. 

“Just keep your trap shut, Bridger, and this will all work out for you,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She turned on her heel, marching back towards the cockpit and slamming the door controls with her fist. The door slid shut, leaving Ezra in the silent shuttle by himself. 

“Fuuuuuuck meeeeee,” he groaned again. He debated on a plan—Tandi had surely taken his comlink along with his lightsaber, but he had a small multitool stashed in his boot—if he managed to grab that, he could probably manage to find a way out of the cuffs— 

“Ezra!” 

Ezra jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice behind him. He spun around as much as he could with his cuffs in the way, a half-formed yelp escaping his lips. The noise was muffled by a hand covering his mouth, and he struggled, eyes wide. 

“Ez, calm the hell down!” 

A familiar voice—the hand was familiar, too. Ezra twisted his head backwards, meeting Luke’s wide eyes. 

“What the fuck,” Ezra hissed. “Luke?” 

[and R2-D2] came a beep from behind Luke, out of Ezra’s line of sight. 

“Are you okay?” said Luke urgently, eyes wide. 

“Do—do I look okay?” Ezra snapped. Luke frowned at him. “How did you even get here?”

“I had a bad feeling,” Luke said, like it was obvious. “I dunno. Something was off—I was worried, so I followed you—Artoo and I stowed away when we saw her drag you into the shuttle. Ezra, she’s working for the Empire—”

“No shit!” hissed Ezra. He groaned, dropping his head to his chest. “Karabast, I’m such a fucking sad sack—I can’t find anyone to date!” 

“Oh,” said Luke, eyes wide. “You don’t want to date her anymore?”

“No, she’s a fucking Imp!” Ezra said through gritted teeth. “Fuck my life, honestly, I’m going to die alone—never gonna date anybody—” 

“Date me, then!” said Luke urgently, hands gripping Ezra’s wrists just above the cuffs. Ezra sputtered to a halt, his jaw dropping. 

“Fucking hell, Luke, what?” said Ezra, feeling like he’d entered an alternate dimension. Luke’s face flamed, and he fidgeted with Ezra’s binders, trying to find a latch. 

“I just—think you should date me!” said Luke, and Ezra shook his head in disbelief. 

“But—I thought—you’re dating the princess?” he said cluelessly. 

“Ezra, she’s my sister!” 

“She’s huh?” 

Luke winced. “That’s—that’s the secret. Leia’s my twin sister.” 

Ezra gaped at him, wheels spinning in his head. 

“Ben and Ahsoka told us—our dad was a Jedi and our mom was a senator, so when our parents died at the end of the Clone Wars we were separated to keep us safe.” 

“Huh?” said Ezra. 

“So—so that’s why I feel so connected to her, and why we’re always on the same wavelength, I guess. I dunno. But I’m definitely not dating her!” 

“Huh?” said Ezra, and Luke’s forehead creased. 

“Say something other than huh,” he said. 

“Um?” said Ezra, and Luke groaned. 

“Hold still,” he said, pulling his lightsaber out and slicing neatly through Ezra’s cuffs. 

Ezra’s mind still felt three steps behind. “But—you want to date me?”

Luke’s cheeks were delightfully pink. “How could I not?” he muttered, eyes on the floor. 

“But—” said Ezra. “You ran away from me. You’ve been avoiding me. I thought you hated me.”

Luke’s eyes turned sad. “I don’t! I’m just—a bit of a dumbass. You had said you wanted to date a lot of people, and then you liked Tandi, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that or spoil that for you—but I’m an idiot, and I kept coming up with excuses to kiss you, because I really like kissing you, and I ran away, because I didn’t want to get in the way of what you really wanted, and—”

Ezra silenced Luke in the best way he could think of—leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Luke made a startled noise, his hands landing on Ezra’s shoulders. Ezra tilted his head, savoring the feeling of Luke’s mouth on his—no pretense, no excuses, just kissing for the sheer enjoyment of it. 

He pulled back, watching Luke’s face carefully. Luke’s eyelashes fluttered, his mouth slightly open. 

“I like you,” Ezra said. “A lot.” 

Luke gaped at him, then grinned widely, ducking his head and blushing. “That’s good, because I like you, too.” 

[status:stupid / cancel hyperspace] beeped R2 angrily, rolling to bump into Luke’s side.  

“Oh, shit,” said Luke, groaning. “We gotta stop Tandi before she makes the jump to hyperspace.” 

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” said Ezra, standing and rubbing at his wrists. “She screwed with the wrong Jedi.” 

Luke tilted his head playfully, shooting Ezra a crooked grin that had him feeling weak in the knees. “Seems like she screwed with the right Jedi. Seeing as she would have you halfway to Coruscant without me intervening to save you.” 

“Oh, come on,” said Ezra, rolling his eyes as Luke laughed. 

R2 rolled to the cockpit door, extending his scomp link. The door slid open, and Tandi spun in her seat as her astromech gave a warning beep. 

“What—how did you—” she said, glaring. 

Luke stepped forward, blocking Ezra with his body and igniting his lightsaber. “I don’t want to hurt you, so let’s try and work this out peacefully.” 

“For the Empire!” she cried, pulling her blaster. Ezra reached out instinctually with the Force, tugging it out of her hand. Her astromech beeped angrily, rolling forward, only to be met with a quick and effective electroshock from R2-D2 that would have made Chopper proud. 

“You—” Tandi said, seething. “This was supposed to be my moment! Fucking Skywalker—you ruin everything!” 

She surged forward, pulling a vibroblade, and Luke leapt backwards. Ezra thrust out with the Force, slamming her hand against the wall, the knife dropping from her hand. 

“Luke, binders!” he called, and he tossed the cuffs into Ezra’s hands easily. With one smooth motion, Ezra clamped her wrists together, tossing her onto the seating area in the hold. 

“Artoo, get us turned around,” called Luke. 

[RogerRoger] said R2, beeping with amusement. 

Tandi hissed and spat insults the whole way back to Yavin Base, but Ezra and Luke happily ignored her. Ezra couldn’t keep himself from glancing at Luke’s face, and found with a delighted swoop of his heart that Luke was looking back at him just as much. 

They landed smoothly on a landing pad, where Hera and Dodonna waited to greet them. Hera looked righteously pissed, her arms crossed and a glare on her face. 

Tandi scowled as Ezra led her down the gangplank, none too gently. 

“Excellent work, boys,” said Dodonna, looking pleased. “Rest assured that a full investigation will be conducted to determine how this spy infiltrated our organization.” 

“I’ll never break!” Tandi cried angrily. 

“Okay, hotshot,” said Hera, rolling her eyes. “We don’t do that here. You’re going to a nice, pleasant cell and getting three meals a day. Probably nicer than what they’d do to you in the Empire.” 

A few soldiers led Tandi away, and Ezra was glad to see her go. He accepted Hera’s hug, wincing as she squeezed the air out of him.

“I’m fine, Hera,” he groaned, patting her gently on the back. 

“Gave us all a heart attack,” she scolded. “How many times have I told you to stop getting kidnapped?” 

“Not my fault, Hera!” he insisted. “And we handled it, didn’t we?” 

“Of course you did,” she said fondly, pulling back to brush a curl out of his face. “Listen—I have to go help Dodonna process the paperwork for this. But I expect the full story over family dinner.” 

“Oh, you’ll get the best dramatized retelling,” Ezra promised. 

Hera glanced over Ezra’s shoulder, gesturing Luke towards them. “Luke, won’t you join us for dinner tonight?” 

“Oh,” said Luke, going pink. “Well, if it’s not too much of an imposition—”

“Of course not,” said Hera warmly. “Any friend of Ezra’s is always welcome.”

For a moment, Ezra dared to hope that he would get away with hiding his new relationship status, that he’d manage to escape the interrogation—but Hera winked knowingly at him, and he knew he’d be in for it later. 

“Luke, do me a favor and make sure he gets back to his quarters without starting any more fights?” called Hera over her shoulder as she walked off. 

“Sir, yes sir,” he called back, grinning at Ezra. 

As they walked through the base, a new nervousness began to set in—should Ezra hold Luke’s hand? Maybe swing an arm around his shoulders? 

Luke saved him from having to wonder by darting his hand out to lace his fingers through Ezra’s. Ezra beamed, feeling heat rise to his cheeks, but squeezed Luke’s hand. 

“Guess I should say thanks for the rescue,” he said as they paused outside Ezra’s quarters.  

Luke grinned and shrugged. “Consider it a zero-th anniversary gift.” 

Ezra snorted. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“Well, lucky for you, everything I say is stupid,” said Luke with a smirk. 

“Great, now I’m reconsidering my decision,” said Ezra playfully, watching as Luke’s eyes sparkled. 

“Too late,” Luke said. “You’re stuck with me, Ez.” 

Ezra rolled his eyes fondly. “I guess I can think of worse things to be.” 

He looked at Luke for a long second, enjoying the soft smile on his face. 

“I guess… I’ll see you at dinner, then?” said Luke cautiously. 

“Or,” said Ezra, hitting his door panel. “You could… come in for a bit?” 

Luke’s eyes lit up, and he bit his bottom lip. “If you say so, boyfriend.” 

“After you, boyfriend,” said Ezra, mock-bowing to wave Luke into the room. 

Luke’s lips were on his before the door even finished sliding shut. 

Love was in the air on Yavin Base, indeed.