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The 212th Attack Battalion came to many unfortunate realizations over the course of the Clone Wars. Some were tactical, some existential, and other were outright deeply concerning.
And one, to Cody’s enduring horror, was this: General Obi-Wan Kenobi was hot. Not merely attractive. Not conventionally handsome. No, the problem was that Obi-Wan Kenobi possessed the kind of devastating charm that made otherwise competent soldiers forget basic sentence structure. It was a battalion-wide crisis.
The first clone to bring this to Cody’s attention was Boil. Which was unfortunate, because Boil never kept anything to himself.
Obi-Wan stepped into the command tent mid-briefing, Jedi robes slightly dusty, sleeves rolled to the elbows. His hair was damp from rain and curling at the edges.
Half the tent went silent. Waxer stared into the middle distance. Boil whispered: “Oh no.”
Cody looked up from a datapad. “…What?”
Boil pointed. “…The General.”
Obi-Wan smiled warmly at a passing medic. The medic nearly walked directly into a supply crate.
Waxer looked deeply distressed. “He can’t just do that.”
“Do what?”
“Exist like that in public.”
Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re both idiots.”
Then Obi-Wan laughed at something one of the shinies said. The entire command tent visibly lost cohesion for a moment.
Boil looked at Cody slowly. “…Commander.”
“No.”
“You don’t see it?”
“I absolutely do not.”
“Commander, with respect, the General looks like he walked directly out of someone’s shameful holonet fantasies.”
Cody stared at him. “Boil.”
“I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”
Across the tent, several clones nodded with the solemnity of men discussing military casualties. Cody hated every second of this conversation. Mostly because they were right. Because Obi-Wan Kenobi was intelligent, kind, terrifyingly competent, absurdly hot, and somehow entirely unaware of the effect he had on people. That last part made it catastrophic.
What later came to be known as ‘the flirting incident’ started as a joke. Which really shouldn’t have surprised anyone, as that was how most dangerous things started around the 212th.
The battalion was stationed briefly on some planet Cody couldn’t even remember the name of after yet another brutal campaign. Morale was low. Everyone was exhausted. And then Obi-Wan had just walked into the barracks fresh from a shower with wet hair and a fitted black undershirt.
The room went silent. Then Boil said quietly, “…Someone needs to do something about this.”
Waxer nodded. “This is becoming an issue.”
Cody should have walked away. Instead he stayed. Which later proved to be his first mistake.
“Commander,” Longshot called from the other side of the barracks, “your Jedi’s causing casualties again.”
“He is not my Jedi.”
Longshot snorted. “And yet you say it so defensively.”
Obi-Wan looked up. “Is something wrong?”
The room collectively malfunctioned. Then Cody—for reasons still unclear to himself—said: “You look nice, sir.”
There was absolute silence as every clone in hearing range froze instantly.
Obi-Wan blinked. “…Pardon?”
Cody’s brain attempted emergency evacuation procedures. Oh well. Too late now. “You look nice,” Cody repeated, calmly, as if his heart were not racing.
Obi-Wan stared at him. Color rose faintly into his cheeks. “Oh.” A pause. “That’s… very kind of you, Cody.”
Boil looked moments away from spiritual ascension. The horrifying part was that Obi-Wan visibly did not know what to do next. At all. He looked startled but pleased, and confused that he seemed pleased.
Waxer whispered: “Oh Force.”
Boil grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise. “He’s flustered.”
Cody realized two things simultaneously. First: Flirting with Obi-Wan Kenobi was absurdly easy. Second: Obi-Wan Kenobi had apparently never been flirted with correctly before if this was how he reacted to being told he looked nice. Which made the entire incident so much better.
It only got worse, because Cody kept doing it. Not intentionally at first, mostly because he found that Obi-Wan’s reactions were insanely addictive.
“Good morning, General.”
Obi-Wan smiled warmly. “Morning, Cody.”
“You look nice today, sir.”
Obi-Wan blinked. “…Thank you?” Then his ears turned slightly pink.
Across the hangar, twelve clone troopers watched from behind a gunship.
“He’s blushing.”
“He’s BLUSHING.”
“OH MY KRIFFING-”
Cody immediately realized that, one, his men were spying on him, and, two, Obi-Wan Kenobi became visibly flustered from compliments. This information was incredibly dangerous.
Cody, unfortunately, was only a man. And Obi-Wan Kenobi looked unfairly good in clone armor colors. So the experimentation continued.
“General, that color suits you.”
“Oh—well—that’s kind of you, Cody.”
•
“Your hair looks nice today, sir.”
“My hair?”
“Yes, sir.”
“…Thank you?”
•
“General Kenobi, have you been working out?”
“What an extraordinary question.”
Every single time Obi-Wan short-circuited visibly, Cody gained confidence. The 212th watched this unfold with the enthusiasm of beings witnessing their underdog team get a top player.
The betting was inevitable.
“How long until Commander Cody realizes he’s flirting intentionally.”
“Two weeks.”
“No chance. He’s emotionally repressed.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
•
“Five credits says General Kenobi combusts first.”
“Ten says Cody accidentally asks him on a date without noticing.”
The betting pool reached horrifying levels by the third month.
Because the thing was—Obi-Wan flirted back accidentally. He leaned closer without noticing and smiled softer around Cody. He started seeking him out first after missions. And every time Cody complimented him, Obi-Wan reacted like someone handing him something fragile and precious he did not quite know how to hold.
Eventually, Cody realized the problem. Obi-Wan genuinely believed attachment was dangerous. The war had been particularly ugly that month. Too many casualties. Too many civilian evacuations. Too many close calls.
Cody found Obi-Wan alone near the viewport, staring out into hyperspace, obviously exhausted.
“You missed dinner.”
Obi-Wan sighed softly. “I wasn’t hungry.”
“Liar.”
Obi-wan gave him a small smile. “Perhaps slightly.”
Cody stepped beside him, close enough to feel warmth through his blacks. Neither spoke for a while.
Then Obi-Wan said quietly, “You should probably stop flirting with me.”
Cody looked over immediately. “Do you want me to?”
Silence. Obi-Wan’s expression tightened. “That’s not the point.”
“It seems relevant.”
“The Jedi Code—”
“Doesn’t forbid love.” Obi-Wan froze, and Cody continued carefully. “Attachment isn’t love.” He paused, gathering his many thoughts on this topic. “Attachment is possession. Fear. Control.” Obi-Wan stared at him, because that sounded dangerously close to something he already believed deep down.
“Your Code warns against attachment because attachment makes people selfish,” Cody said quietly. “But caring about someone?” He shrugged slightly. “You already do that.”
Obi-Wan looked away sharply. “You don’t understand.”
“Maybe not, but I do understand you,” Cody’s voice stayed calm, “You’re afraid if you let yourself love people fully, losing them will destroy you.”
There was a moment of silence and Obi-Wan’s jaw tightened. Because yes. Exactly that.
The war had already taken so much from him. Friends, initiates, brothers, planets. How could loving more deeply possibly be safe?
Cody leaned against the viewport beside him. “It’ll hurt anyway, sir.”
Obi-Wan looked at him then. Really looked at him. “You’ve thought about this a great deal.”
“We’re clones,” Cody gave him a humorless smile. “We think about what makes a life meaningful pretty often.”
Something in Obi-Wan’s expression cracked softly then. “I care about you,” Obi-Wan admitted quietly. The words sounded almost frightened, and Cody’s chest hurt instantly.
“Good,” Cody said. “Because I’m pretty gone on you myself.”
Obi-Wan laughed helplessly at that. Actually laughed. Warm and startled and human. Then he said softly: “I’m not sure I know how to do this.”
Cody answered honestly: “Neither do I. But we can figure it out.”
Obi-Wan hesitated only a moment longer before leaning forward tentatively, as if he were expecting the universe to punish him for wanting this. Cody met him halfway. The kiss was soft and brief, terrifying in entirely new ways.
Behind the nearby doorway, Boil silently handed Waxer twenty credits. Without looking away, Waxer whispered: “You owe me another ten for the kiss happening before the end of this campaign.”
Boil paid immediately. Neither clone moved to interrupt history.