Private New Beginnings, Familiar Hearts

[Aren D'Shade]

Sunlight crept through the blinds, hitting the edge of the bed and glinting off the datapads scattered around. Aren stretched one hand out lazily, brushing it against Omen's cheek with a small, teasing smile. "Morning," she said, voice soft, playful.

Even without a word from him, she felt the rhythm of the room, the quiet pulse of life beside her. It had been so long since she'd woken up with someone she cared about, and the simple presence of him—steady, real, close—made the morning feel… different. Comfortable. Safe. Somehow right.

She pulled back just enough to watch EL hover through the apartment, caf already brewing and the warm scent of roasted beans filling the air. "Looks like someone's more on top of things than I am," she said, letting a soft laugh escape her lips. "I'm going to pretend I'm this productive too."

Aren swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching, and let her fingers trail over the blanket as she took in the quiet apartment. She caught herself thinking, with a small, almost mischievous grin, that this might be the first morning in years she didn't feel like she had to face the world alone.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

The touch of Aren's hand made Omen slowly drift out of his slumber, seeing her as she was in mid-stretch. Without hesitation, a hand slid around her waist and pulled her down so they were face to face. Smiling softly, he leaned in to give her lips a quick peck. "And where do you think you are going, Young Lady?"

Since they had moved into this new townhouse, things had gone better than Omen had expected. The Clone would have thought living together with someone new would have been a little rocky for both of them, but they seemed to enjoy each other, or at least Omen had enjoyed Aren's company. He guessed he couldn't speak for how he felt, but if she was still here, she must feel the same way.

After a bit of cuddling, Omen would reluctantly sit up, stretching out his muscles and getting up, going over to the caf maker to get a cup for his love. "Oh, you can be productive, alright. You just need the right... push..." The unsaid meaning was evident as the Clone turned to wink at her, bringing over the mug of caf to rest in her hands. "I know you wanted to get some of your work stations and machines set up and I probably need to do some painting... Is there anything else you wanted to do today?"

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren blinked slowly, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips as she accepted the caf, letting the warmth seep into her hands. She took a quiet sip before replying, her voice calm and measured, though softer than usual.

"Thank you," she said, eyes meeting his with a trace of fond amusement. "I think getting the workstations and displays set up is a priority. But…we can take our time with everything else. There's no rush today."

Her fingers brushed lightly over the mug's handle, and for a moment, her gaze softened, just enough for him to see it. "It's…nice, waking up like this. Quiet. Together. I think I could get used to it."

She leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the caf and the simple comfort of the morning settle around them. Then her eyes flicked around the townhouse, scanning the bare walls and empty spaces. "And as for decorating…I think you're in charge of interior design. I'll make suggestions, of course, but I want to see what you do with this place. Consider it your canvas."

A faint smirk touched her lips, just enough to be teasing. "But I expect quality work. No cutting corners. And…" she added, her tone softening, "if you want to sneak in a hug or a kiss while 'working,' I won't stop you."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Sitting down beside her, Omen took her hand as he met her gaze. He definitely felt them same way which he confirmed when he kissed her cheek. "Never thought I would get this life with someone. I'm glad I get to savor it now." And he would savor what he and Aren had, as long as he was here too.

Omen couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as Aren passed off the interior decorator duties to him. "You are talking to the person whose lived in a barracks for over half his life but fine, I'll see what I can do..." His mind start to race with ideas on what doors he wanted to have, what furniture arrangement would bring the best harmony to their house and what appliances they still needed to buy. At the Cybergirl's teasing, though, he couldn't help but smirk back, pulling her into his lap. "And if I want to do more than that?" Because if Aren was walking around the house near where he was working, he might not be able to stop himself.

"I'll certainly do my best for you and I'll try to stick to the budget as best as I can." The Clone didn't want to put all of their funds into this place. A house was just a house after all and he knew how easily brick and mortar could be destoryed. But as long as he had Aren, he would have a home to return too. He was thinking of holomovie posters to put up when he thought of something. "I just thought of something... What kind of holomovies do you like?"

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren tilted her head, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she let his words sink in. "Holomovies, huh?" she said, her tone teasing but warm. "Well…I have a soft spot for classics. Old adventures, clever mysteries…a little bit of romance, if it's done well."

She leaned back slightly, letting her fingers brush against his arm, a light touch that carried both warmth and amusement. "But you get to decide which ones make it to the walls. I trust your…creative vision..…don't make me regret handing over the interior design."

Aren's eyes sparkled as she added, voice lighter now, "And if you want to do more than rearranging furniture, you're going to have to earn that, Mr. Decorator."

She chuckled softly, nudging him with her shoulder. "Though I suppose I shouldn't complain. After all, you do have a lot of experience making barracks feel like home. Just…try not to turn the living room into a training ground for your drills, okay?"

Her grin widened. "And if you sneak in a holomovie that's just…terrible, I'll make you watch it with me. Every scene. Twice."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

The Clone leaned in to kiss along her jaw as he heard her answer to his question. "Makes sense. That answer sounds like you exactly." His own arm curled around her and pulled her against his side, his fingers playfully tapping along her side. "Who knows, I might just paint murals of you all over the walls. Its the only thing I know I won't get tired of."

"Ma'am yes Ma'am" was the only thing he said in reply to her rearranging joke, grinning like a mad man as he said it. One of the things the Clone loved about Aren is that their sense of humor matched perfectly and she could always make him laugh. Its why he was here with her.

Raising an eyebrow with his own grin, he couldn't help but chuckle at her threat. "Sounds more like a reward than a punishment but okay." Relucantly, he got up from the bed, streaching his body out and letting out a grunt at the sensation of his muscles sorting themselves out. "I'll go to the store to get the paint ordered by the end of the day. Anything else we need to put on the to do list?" Might as well get the most done while he was out.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren's lips quirked into a faint smile at his playful comment, her eyes softening as she felt the familiar warmth of his arm around her. "Murals, huh?" she said, voice even but tinged with amusement. "I suppose that wouldn't be entirely unwelcome… though subtlety, please. No giant portraits glaring from every wall."

She shook her head lightly, a teasing lift at the corner of her mouth. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am," she echoed, letting the humor linger. "Looks like you're settling nicely into your role as 'domestic overseer and interior decorator.'"

Her gaze drifted toward the window, to the skyline beyond. Empress Teta was orderly and sleek, but it didn't feel like home—not like Denon, with its chaos and neon lights, the pulse of a city she had lived through alone. A soft exhale left her. "Sometimes I wish we could have set this up there… my space, my city. It had life, even if it was messy."

Her eyes returned to Omen, and the edge in her voice softened. "But I suppose we wouldn't have had this," she said, gesturing around the townhouse. "No one breathing down our necks, no need to watch every shadow. Having you here… it makes letting go of the old world a little easier."

She brushed her fingers along his arm, grounding herself in the present. A faint, teasing smile curved her lips. "Besides, I can't exactly picture you surviving Denon's traffic without losing your mind."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Aren's lips quirked into a faint smile at his playful comment, her eyes softening as she felt the familiar warmth of his arm around her. "Murals, huh?" she said, voice even but tinged with amusement. "I suppose that wouldn't be entirely unwelcome… though subtlety, please. No giant portraits glaring from every wall."

He could help but smile back at Aren, it was like her touch was magical, always making him in a better mood. "What, you don't like Aren-themed Imperial-style propaganda all over the house? I thought you would be delighted." The Clone could only shake his head as he let her compliment him about fitting into his new role. "I think you are only calling me that because I can cook Mando dishes better than you can for when any future guests come over." Omen didn't mind trying to integrate into Mando society, but he would need a good enough cover identity that could get past any suspicion anyone had. Thankfully, his face wasn't a unique one.

For Omen, he didn't mind Empress Teta. It offered enough variety in terrain and people to satisfy him. He even had made a small garden on the townhouse's balcony. He could clearly see though the Aren need more nightlife then this planet provided. Taking her hand, he pulled it up to his lips to give it a soft kiss. "We could have set up there if you really wanted too. I just thought this could be a place where we could be ourselves with... like you said, no one trying to find us. I'm sure we could still visit if you really are that home sick." Omen put her hand down, pointing to the flower boxes he had made himself. "I also know I couldn't put those out without them being smashed. But wherever we go, you are the only home I need. Plus, like you said, you don't need me going crazy and needing to rescue me from prison again after being charged with road rage."

Going through his mind on what they could make for breakfast, he asked her off hand. "Anything you would like to do together today? I think we both have our schedules cleared for each other."

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren's laugh came soft but genuine, the sound breaking through the quiet morning. "Imperial-style propaganda? I think I'd rather avoid seeing my face glaring back at me every time I make caf," she said, voice light but edged with amusement. Her gaze softened as she looked at him. "Though… points for creativity."

His teasing about Mando cooking earned a small smirk. "You might have me beat there," she admitted. "But I've yet to decide if your nerf stew was skill or luck. I'll reserve judgment until I see a repeat performance."

When he took her hand and kissed it, the gentle sincerity of the gesture stilled her for a moment. "You were right," she said quietly. "This place—it's safe. Still feels strange sometimes, having that. I think I spent so long running that quiet feels louder than chaos ever did."

Her gaze drifted toward the balcony, sunlight glinting off the flower boxes he'd built. "It suits you," she murmured. "All of this. The calm, the care, the… peace." Then, after a beat, her tone shifted—curious, not prying. "You keep saying Imperial-style, but you were from the Grand Republic, weren't you? I thought you'd have stronger opinions about painting anything Imperial on the walls."

Her words carried no accusation, just quiet interest—the kind that came from wanting to understand rather than challenge.

She reached for her mug, fingers brushing his arm as she passed. "As for today…" Her tone softened again. "We could take a walk. Maybe get out of the house for a while. No plans, no alarms, no running. Just… normal."

She gave him a faint, knowing smile, the kind that said she didn't take peace for granted anymore. "Let's make the most of the quiet while it lasts."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen leaned in, pecking her cheek as a thank you for the compliment. "I do my best for you Love. Just glad I can entertain you. And I guess we know what we are having tonight for dinner then." He couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard Aren's soft words, he gave her a hand a squeeze. "I get what you mean... Good thing we can make out lives as loud as we want to now. Fill it with happiness in a way we couldn't before."

The Clone took in a deep breath as she said her peace about the world. "I get it... Same feeling with me not being apart of the Clone Army. It takes alot to adjust to a new place, a new purpose... But we got time." Giving her a soft smile, he drank the sight of this perfect punk girl as the sunlight hit her face. Yup, he definitely could get used to this...

Shrugging in response to her question about his comment about propagnda, he couldn't help but give a quite chuckle. "Honestly, I just said it because the Empire's proganda efforts were alot more noticable... I didn't live through that time remember? Not alot for me to personally have opinions about though I get what you are trying to imply. Besides it's easy to replace "My Emperor" with "My Queen"."

Relucantly parting from Aren and getting back up as she gave her answer about what she wanted to do today, he turned back to give her an affrinative nod and a grin. "I would love a walk. Maybe there's a public garden we could walk through. Anyways, I better get a shower then and give you some peace." Putting up a hand to wave quickly, Omen walked into the ensuite bathroom in his boxers, giving Aren the view the Tech Specialist loved.

Aren would soon hear the shower turned on and Omen's humming started to drift through the door as he soaped up, leaving her the freedom to choose what to do with her morning.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren smiled faintly as he spoke, that mix of humor and sincerity never failing to disarm her. "You're not just entertaining, Omen," she said, her tone soft but certain. "You make the quiet feel like something worth keeping."

Her eyes followed him for a moment as he stood, the sunlight cutting through the blinds and catching on his hair. "I'll hold you to that dinner, though," she added, smirking. "And I'll be the judge of whether you've earned bragging rights or just got lucky the first time."

She leaned back in her chair, caf warming her hands as she listened to him talk about the Empire and the Republic — two ghosts of the same galaxy. "I think that's fair," she said after a pause. "The names change, but propaganda doesn't. Maybe it's better to build something small and real than fight over who gets to call themselves righteous."

When he mentioned the walk, she nodded, her expression softening again. "A garden sounds perfect," she said quietly. "Fresh air, sunlight, maybe a little peace that doesn't come from running."

As he disappeared into the bathroom, she shook her head, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she heard his humming through the door. "You know," she called out, amusement threading through her voice, "for someone who claims not to like attention, you're awfully good at earning it."

She took another sip of caf, letting the warmth settle through her chest as the morning light filled the room. For the first time in a long while, the silence didn't feel heavy. It just felt like home.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen grinned back, twisting her words back at her. "Is that because you want me to shut up half time?" It was fun dueling Aren with words, like it was his favorite pastime. "And deal. I'll make you purr at my cooking yet. And what do you think we are doing here by ourselves, just whiling the days away?" If he was to build something, he would rather build it with her.

Just giving a smile and nod to her answer, he slipped into the bathroom and soon the shower would be heard, wiping the previous night clean. The only human sign the bathroom was occupied was his voice, crying back out at the closed door. "I don't know about all that Aren! You just missed a prime opportunity to give my butt a playful spank so I can't interest you too much! Maybe I need to get a pole to really entertain you with!" She was right about one thing though; this really did feel like home... The Clone only thought that it would have many more wonderous moments inside it before their story here was done.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren's laughter came low and genuine, the kind that slipped through her composure before she could stop it. "Half the time?" she called back, voice carrying easily through the door. "You're being generous — I was thinking more like two-thirds."

She leaned against the wall near the bathroom, arms folded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. The domestic rhythm of it — the sound of running water, the steam curling from the crack beneath the door, the easy banter — it still felt strange, in the best possible way.

"Careful with your promises, Omen," she added, tone light but edged with amusement. "You talk about cooking and dancing in the same breath, and I might start expecting dinner and a show."

Her gaze drifted toward the balcony where the morning light caught on the plants he'd tended. "And for the record," she said, quieter now, "we're not whiling the days away. We're… rebuilding them. That's worth something."

She pushed off the wall, heading for the kitchen to pour more caf, shaking her head with a faint grin. "And if you come out of there talking about poles again, I'm calling the landlord."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Aren could see his eye roll through the door at her retort but she also heard a chuckle none the less. "So thats why you insisted we buy all those pillows for the bed, so you can stuff my mouth with them?" It did feel strange, sharing a a space with a lovely lady was so alien to him after his time in prison that he still woke up wondering why he had a women cellmate out of her prison uniform beside him.

"Well, I'm gonna need payment before hand if thats the case." Stepping out, Omen would be dressed in only a towel as he walked over to the closet to featch something to wear. "Till then, this is the only show you get to see."

He turned, giving her a smile as he remarked, replying back with. "Its worth giving my whole heart to you." Slowly walking over, now dressed in simple pants and a t-shirt, he leaned over her, his arms helping him stay up as he looked into her eyes, whispering playfully. "I mean... I could say the roof is sagging in, that I needed to put the pole in to prevent the ceiling from collasping. Then I would have an excuse to have it for just a day or two. What is it? You are trying to tell me I can't have fun performing for someone?" The wicked smile that came on the Clone's face would show that Omen might just be crazy enough to actually do the deed, if its dear Aren desired it. Hell, he would give her the galaxy if she wanted it.Of that she would have no doubt. It might be just a projection of the galaxy map but it was the thought that counted, right?

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren didn't even try to hide the slow, amused inhale she took when he stepped out in nothing but a towel — but her expression stayed carefully composed, the same practiced calm she always wore, even when heat flickered beneath it.

"Stuff your mouth with pillows?" she echoed, arching a brow. "Please. If I wanted you quiet, I'd just turn off the lights and let you run into the furniture." The smirk that followed was small but unmistakably wicked.

When he demanded "payment," her gaze dipped — deliberately — then rose again with a soft, unimpressed hum. "Bold of you to assume you're the one who needs to be paid in advance," she said. "I'm the one tolerating the theatrics."

Then he moved closer.

Aren didn't flinch, didn't lean back. She looked up at him as he braced over her, brown eyes steady, the faintest spark of challenge glittering through the calm.

"Oh, I'm sure you'd find a perfectly reasonable explanation for that pole," she murmured, voice low, steady, and edged with faint amusement. "A structural emergency. An engineering crisis. A tragic, unforeseen accident that just happened to involve you shirtless."

She reached up, fingers brushing lightly along the hem of his shirt — a fleeting touch, barely there, but intentional.

"And no," she added, tone softening, "I'm not saying you can't have fun performing. I'm saying if you did, you'd never get any actual work done around here."

Her hand drifted away, fingertips gliding off the fabric as she leaned back just slightly in her chair.

"And for the record," she said, voice quiet but warm, "your 'whole heart' is more than I ever expected to have from anyone. But—" a slow smirk returned, "—if you install a pole in this house, I will make you explain it to every visitor who comes through that door."

She reached for her mug, lifting it in a small, teasing toast.

"Now," she said, eyes never leaving his, "are we getting breakfast, or are you planning to keep tempting structural failure?"

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen couldn't help but stare down at her and her retort, wondering how she thought that method of blinding him . "Well, I'm sorry to inform you but I'm a former special forces operator that knows how to use night vision googles. Thats not going to be an effective method of stopping me"

Looking her in the eye, Aren would see the flame buring in her lover's eyes as his hands held hers. "We both know you don't mind the theatrics. If you wanted someone "normal", you would have stayed with someone else during our time apart... But here you are, so you must not mind them as much as you claim."

His voice was rough with emotion and wanting, in a low tone, saying. "I want to do my best to put a smile on your face while we are together and if it means dancing without any clothes on then so be it... And among all that you said, "I wouldn't like seeing a show by you" wasn't apart of words that came out of your mouth. Maybe its you that wouldn't get any work done, wanting to watch me move for you." Her touch only sent the flames higher in his heart and as a finger came up to stroke across her lips. "I would be proud to say that I danced for you Aren, just as proud as I am to be yours" And with that, he grabbed her hand, taking the mug and putting it on the side table so he could let their lips embrace. It was in both sets nature after all.

Only letting up after Aren had a few new and very visiable marks on her neck, he reculantly got up and gave her a hand to her feet. "But you were right, we are wasting daylight." As they both went out to the kitchen, he tossed her one of the burb berry muffins he had made the day before. "Think this will be enough to get you through to lunch?"

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren let the kiss linger—just long enough to savor the heat of it—before he finally pulled back, and she felt the cool air on her skin again. The moment she stood, her fingers brushed the side of her neck… and she froze.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Omen." It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.

She pressed her fingertips against the new mark—already warm, already unmistakable—and gave him a look that was equal parts exasperation and reluctant amusement.

"You gave me a hickey."

The judgment in her voice was dry as duracrete, but the faint flush beneath it betrayed her. "Do you realize how long it takes to cover these? And how obvious they look on pale skin?" She shook her head, picking up the muffin he'd tossed her and taking a deliberate bite out of it. "You're lucky I like your cooking."

As she chewed, she shot him a pointed glance. "You pull that stunt before a public outing again, and I swear, I'll 'accidentally' rewire your night-vision goggles to show everything two seconds late."

She took another bite—smaller, softer—clearly enjoying the muffin despite her grumbling.

"And for the record," she added, staring him down over the edge of her pastry, "I never said I didn't enjoy the theatrics. I didn't expect them before breakfast."

Aren brushed a crumb from her lip, looking him over with a slow, assessing sweep. "Now get me another muffin," she said, dry as ever. "If you're going to leave souvenirs on my neck, I deserve at least two."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

If the grin on his face didn't tell Aren, the evil smile coming from his eyes that he did know how easy the marks showed on her bar skin and that he was very guilty of leaving them. "I don't think you save me from prison for my cooking. You brought me back to give you a challenge. And why would you hide it? I thought you would be proud to show off a mark from your new partner in crime. I would leave them on you every day if I could."

Ome couldn't help but give a playfully hurt face, doing his best to prevent the laughter from coming up bubbling up to the surface. "Guess I'm just going to have to take your makeup away so you can't cover that lovemark up. As for the theatrics, I have to entertain you somehow other than with this perfect body I have." At Aren's request, he did take another muffin off the counter but instead of putting it in her hand, he put it in his mouth, offering her the showing half, mutter through it as he met her eyes. "Here, how about... me sharing one with you."

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren stared at him for a long, flat second — the kind of stare that could silence a room, if she ever bothered using it that way.

"You're lucky your cooking is good," she said dryly, taking a slow bite of the muffin in her hand. "Otherwise you'd be sleeping on the balcony with your precious flower boxes."

But the faint color warming her cheeks wasn't from irritation, and the small, betraying smirk tugging her lips was impossible to hide.

At his comment about being proud to "show off" the mark, she narrowed her eyes just enough to make the message clear. "I'm not showing off anything," she muttered. "And if you leave one every day, I'll actually have to start documenting you as a workplace hazard."

Then he suggested hiding her makeup.
The look she gave him could have melted durasteel.

"You," she said slowly, "touch my makeup drawer, and I swear I will rewire your datapad to explode into glitter every time you open it."

But the sharpness softened almost instantly when he approached with the second muffin—held, idiotically, in his mouth.

Aren blinked.
Then blinked again.

"…Seriously?"
The word came out flat, but the corners of her mouth were already betraying her.

He leaned closer, still holding the ridiculous offering between his teeth.

Aren sighed — the heavy, theatrical kind — and leaned forward just enough to take the offered half from his mouth with her own, her eyes locked on his the entire time.

When she straightened again, she chewed, swallowed, and said with perfect composure:

"That was unnecessary."
A beat.
"But acceptable."

Then she reached out and flicked his forehead lightly.

"And don't test me about the makeup. I will win."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

With his smug "I know you like me" face on as he watched her eat, letting out a chuckle. "You probably would let me back in after five minutes because you need me to keep you warm under those covers and..." He gently reached out, gently tracing a circle around the mark on her neck as his soft voice teased her in attempt to make that smirk fully break out. "I just might since you would have to document all the ways I show I love you to HR. That would be a fun read. But fine, no more hickies before we go out in public. I'll save them for whenever you have anyone over as a special treat for me."

The Clone knew it was time to stop when it looked like laser beams would come out of Aren's eyes and she seemed hot enough to have risen out of Mustafar's boiling waters. "The way you talk it, you are making me think you have your own big vault on Muunilist, just filled with beauty products. Hell, I bet the value would be over a years rent of this place if not more. Are you practicing to apply to the Naboo Queen's handmaidens with all that expertise?" His hand slipped down to hold her chin as he sneaked a quick kiss on her lips in in. "You don't have to pretend to be what you already are, beautiful."

The electric scene shot between the couple as their eyes meet, showing their connection as something intimate and real. At Aren's exastperated word, Omen could only grin and nod with the muffin between his teeth. The Tech Wizard should had detailed the delievery method when asking for another muffin. Otherwise, miscommunication can happen. Thankfully though, both people won. Aren got her muffin and he got to feel her lips against his. once more. "Good to know, I might do silly, not practiacle food delievery methods more often then"

Taking another whole muffin for himself, he asked her a question with the playful smirk, showing her his impish nature before biting into it. "So, are you ready to go or do you have to put conceler on to hide my crime of passion first?" The Clone knew what he would chose but Omen knew he had given her enough grief for one morning. Best let her create the image she manufactured for herself once again, just so he could break it down in the very near future.


Aren D'Shade