Private New Beginnings, Familiar Hearts

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren froze mid–eye roll.

Not visibly. Not dramatically. Just a barely perceptible stillness — a microsecond where her expression stopped matching his banter. The word Naboo had slipped out of his mouth so casually, but it landed like a stone in her chest.

She recovered quickly — she always did — but the shift was there, subtle as a dropped wire sparking in the dark.

"…Naboo?" she repeated, tone flattening in a way Omen wouldn't understand, couldn't possibly understand. "No. Absolutely not. If I ever end up there again, it'll be because someone dragged me unconscious."

The calm in her voice had sharpened, not angry — just edged. Controlled. The kind of tone she used when redirecting from a system fault she didn't want to open.

She brushed past him, reaching for her mug as if nothing had happened, returning to the safer irritation of the moment.

"And don't joke about handmaidens," she added dryly. "I'd rather solder my own fingers together."

When he asked if she needed concealer, she pressed her palm over the mark again, shooting him a long, unimpressed look.

"Yes, I'm covering it," she said, resuming that deadpan ease he was familiar with. "Mostly because I refuse to step outside looking like a walking public service announcement about your self-control."

She stepped toward the hallway, but not before giving his chest another poke with two fingers — sharper this time, but still playful.

"And if you ever compare me to anything Naboo-related again," she warned, "I'll install a tracking chip in your boots so accurate it reports how many crumbs you drop per meter."

She turned toward the bedroom, her voice drifting back over her shoulder, lighter now — though still tinged with something he couldn't name.

"I'll be ready in five. Try not to get flour everywhere."

And though her steps were steady, the quiet under her breath as she disappeared around the corner was unmistakable:

"…Naboo… stars, no."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Well, that was... interesting... Omen brows furrowed as she went on her Naboo rant, but he didn't say anything. Quietly nodding along was better while the Tech was fuming was the only way he was going to survive her wraith. Nodding through her rebukes, he silently ate his muffin as he tried to figure out what had happened to her on that planet.

As Aren shot the Clone full of daggers, all he could do was give off his puppy dog eyes in an attempt to appeize the monster. Her two fingers hitting his chest told him it didn't work. "Fine, I'm sorry I like showing my love for you. I'll keep it to myself in the future..." As Aren moved away, Omen knew she needed support from him. Not like she would ask for it to him.

When Aren walked back out of the bedroom, she would run directly into her partner's chest and feel his arms engulf her, pulling her into a tender hug "Seemed like you needed this...~" was whispered into her ear as he held on to her, giving her the comfort she seemed to need. After accouple of minutes, he reluctantly let go and moved to open the front door open before her. "After you, the beauty always goes first after all" And would certainly always be a beauty for him.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren stepped right into his chest, the impact soft but enough to make her blink in surprise. His arms wrapped around her before she could protest, and for a moment she let herself lean into the hold — annoyance draining away, replaced by quiet warmth.

She exhaled, the tension easing from her shoulders as she murmured, "You're impossible," but the words carried no real bite. If anything, they sounded grateful.

When he finally loosened his hold and opened the door with that ridiculous flourish, Aren's brow lifted — the spark back in her eyes now that the storm had passed. The corner of her mouth tugged upward, slow and teasing.

"Age before beauty," she quipped lightly, stepping just close enough that her shoulder brushed his. "Which means you go first, old man."

Her tone was bright, playful — the version of her that only he seemed to coax out with such ease. She tapped his arm once, a gentle nudge rather than a reprimand this time.

"Come on," she added, brushing past him but throwing him a sideways look. "If we're doing this 'normal couple' thing, you're not allowed to stand there acting like some dramatic holovid hero at the door."

A beat. A small smirk.

"Besides… I like walking next to you better."

With her mood settled and light again, she motioned for him to join her — ready for their walk, ready for the day, and quietly, undeniably happy to be stepping into it with him.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen chuckled softly as the aggressive young woman melted into his grasp. Running his fingers through her hair as he kissed her forehead, these affectionate words softly reached her ear. "I love you too Aren~" The only reason that Omen let her go is that Aren might kick him in his metal kneecaps if he held on too long, and he didn't want the purple-haired primadonna to break her foot.

As the Clone playfully looked back at her with a look of annoyance on his face that mimicked hers before, he shot back playfully with "I've got to tell Social Services about you abusing an old man. I'm sure they would love to come over and hear me talk. And if they won't believe me, the muffins will." But he joined her nonetheless, interwining his fingers with hers as they walked to the gardens together. "I like walking next to you, too, my partner in crime. It's one of the many highlights of my days with you. It's nice to hear you admit we are actually a couple, too. I didn't think you were so fond of me."

His hand left hers for a moment as they walked, long enough to wonder what her crazy old man was up to. The Clone's arm reached around her, giving her rear a playful squeeze in her tight pants before settling on her hip. Yes, Omen really didn't have any self-control when it came to Aren, for better or for worse. He was making the most of the moment, and who could really blame him for that?

Their bodies merged as they walked into the park, with Omen unable to help but steal glances at Aren. Omen had to savor the sight of her before she noticed and poked him in the ribs, at least that is what the Clone thought was going to happen after this morning. As they both looked around, they would see couples of various species and families walking pets on leashes, all enjoying the outside air. She would also see some small amusement park rides, like a merry-go-round, and some tourist shops and restaurants. And then there were the flowers, arranged in eloberate designs for everyone to marvel at. "Not a bad date spot if I do say so myself."

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren snorted outright at his "I love you too, Aren~" but she didn't pull away — if anything, she let her forehead rest against his chest for one extra heartbeat, pretending she wasn't doing exactly that.

By the time he let go and started his dramatic whining, her composure had returned… mostly.

"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes as she stepped beside him. "Social Services would take one look at you and assume I'm the endangered one in this relationship." She nudged him with her elbow. "And if muffins are your evidence, then you're definitely losing the case."

Her fingers slid easily into his, the gesture smooth and natural now — far more natural than she would ever admit out loud. A small laugh escaped at his comment.

"Fond of you?" she echoed with faux skepticism. "Who said that? Maybe I'm just here for the free food and the dramatic morning speeches."

But the faint warmth in her tone betrayed her. So did the way her thumb brushed across his knuckles as they walked.

And then — of course — his hand slipped away and grabbed her rear.

Aren froze mid-step, her jaw dropping for exactly one second before she swung her head toward him with the most deadly, slow-growing glare.

"Omen," she said, voice low and deceptively calm. "If you touch my ass in public again, I will reprogram your prosthetics so every time you walk, you sound like a malfunctioning astromech."

But she didn't move his hand from her hip afterward.

Her expression softened as the gardens opened up around them — sunlight glinting off fountains, flowers arranged in spirals and stars, families laughing, vendors selling sweet pastries and fresh juice. A place alive in all the ways Denon never had been.

She let herself lean into him just a little, enough for their shoulders to touch as she took it in.

"Not bad at all," she admitted quietly. "Peaceful. Warm. Almost feels like a place two people might actually want to be."

A beat, then her lips quirked into a sly smirk.

"Don't get used to me calling it a date, though. You'll get a big head."

She looked up at him — eyes bright, mood fully restored now — and added, with a soft, playful nudge:

"Lead the way, old man. Show me what other terrible life choices you have planned for our morning."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

"If you were just here for my food, we wouldn't have shared a bed last night, all cuddled up together." Her whole body was betraying her as they walked together. It's partly why he could get away with a little grabass, but Aren quickly proved him wrong. Suddenly pulling away from her, he retorted playfully. "Thought you wanted to be a normal couple. Welcome to what normal boyfriends do. They tell their girl they love all of her body through their touch, but fine, I'll give you a breather." He would only stay away for a moment to prove his point before letting their bodies join back together, fitting like puzzle pieces.

The Clone's mouth would go wide in mock shock, putting his hand to his ear as he joked. "Did... Did I just hear the Aren D'Shade compliment me? But that's impossible, she never compliments me, no matter what. It's not in her grumpy nature." He quickly sneaked in a kiss to her forehead, his words coming over the park's gentle breeze. "And I never take these days for granted, but even if I did get a big head, it would be able to match yours."

At her insistence on making him choose what they do, Omen glanced at the Merry Go Round and decided being on a horse with the Purple-Haired Menance in front of him wouldn't be a half-bad choice. "How about the Merry Go Round? I'll even let you pick what horse you want to ride." As they made their way over, Omen decided, like he had in the past, that being next to Aren on days like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren planted a hand flat against his chest the second he started claiming "normal couple behavior," pushing him back just far enough to make her point — but not far enough to actually leave the space he'd warmed around her.

"Don't twist this," she warned, though the faint smile tugging at her mouth ruined her attempt at sternness. "Normal couples don't go grabbing asses in public on the way to the gardens. That's not affection, that's harassment with extra steps."

But the moment he drifted away from her side, even just for show, her hand immediately reached for his sleeve — a reflex she didn't bother hiding — pulling him back until their shoulders brushed again.

"Better," she murmured, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

His dramatic gasp earned a snort.
"You act like I never say anything nice. I compliment you all the time—just usually not to your face."

Her brow lifted pointedly when he mentioned head size.
"Careful. You need at least a little humility left if you want to keep that spot next to me in bed."

But she leaned in to the forehead kiss without hesitation, eyes softening for a heartbeat before she covered it with a scoff.

Then he pointed toward the merry-go-round.

Aren stopped walking, stared at him, then at the ride, then back at him.

"…You want that to be our first official couple outing?"
She deadpanned it, but her eyes were already brightening — that ridiculous spark she tried so hard not to show too easily.

Finally, with a slow exhale that was definitely trying (and failing) to hide a laugh, she nudged his hip with hers.

"Fine," she said, pretending she was being dragged into something outrageous. "But I get the black one. And if the music is terrible, I'm blaming you."

As they made their way toward the carousel, her fingers threaded into his again — tighter this time, like habit, like belonging.

"…Don't let go," she added quietly, almost offhand, as though it had slipped out without her thinking.

But she didn't take it back.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen could only shake his head with a smile as she pushed and pulled at him. The way Aren gave her affection would forever mystify him, but at least she hadn't left yet. "You talking to your friends about me? I thought that me being a former convict would stop that" Not that he would complain being up against her. "And don't worry, I'll try not to let you make a whole effect on me too much."

The Clone smirked, knowing the sparkle in her eyes was a "Yes, Absolutely Yes!", playfully nudging back. "You can blame me as much as you want, and I'm pretty sure the horses are big enough to share. I'll even help put you on its back, Little Girl." His face softened as they walked, hearing her say the truth. Squeezing her hand, he leaned in to whisper lovingly in her ear. "And don't worry, nothing would make me want to stay apart from you...~"

That also didn't mean he would stop his tricks, however. As they got into line for the ride, he pulled her hand in and put it on his butt, whispering playfully, "Now you are an accomplice in grabassery." The Clone didn't force her to keep it there as much as he would have wanted to, but he also didn't want to get slapped on their first date. The other couples around them, who had seen the act, chuckled to themselves, remembering how their own first dates had gone in the past. It seemed like everyone had a favorite memory; maybe this moment would be theirs.

As it came to their turn, he fulfilled his promise, helping her up onto her black steed before climbing on behind her, their arms wrapping around her body. Unlike traditional merry-go-rounds, this one held their horses and cars with anit grav so there was no pole between them. The music was also hopefully to her liking. For Omen, just being able to hold her was a dream that he never thought he would be able to have.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren snorted softly at his comment about being a former convict, giving him a sideways look that was pure teasing judgment.

"Please," she said dryly, "half my coworkers are former convicts. You think that's gonna scare me off?"

She nudged his shoulder with her own, subtle but affectionate.
"And if you think I haven't mentioned you to anyone, you're adorable. And wrong."

There was a faint, smug little smile she wasn't even trying to hide.

When he joked about helping her onto the horse, she let out a quiet, incredulous laugh.

"'Little girl,' huh?" she echoed, eyebrows lifting in warning. "You're lucky you're cute."

She didn't actually pull away when he squeezed her hand; in fact, she leaned slightly into him, letting the warmth settle without comment. His low whisper brushed her ear, and she tried — poorly — to hide the slight shiver that followed.

But then he pulled one of his stunts.

Aren's hand landed on his backside, placed there by him, and she stared at him with wide eyes for one beat, then two, before muttering under her breath:

"You are going to be the end of me."

The couples around them snickered. She shot them all a murderous glare, but the blush dusting her ears betrayed her.

As he let go, she swatted his hip lightly — not hard, not serious, just enough to make her point.

"You're lucky I don't throw you over the railing," she grumbled, though her mouth was curving upward despite herself. "Grabassery. Maker, help me."

When he lifted her onto the horse, she settled into place with a roll of her eyes.

"At least you picked the good one," she conceded, patting the sleek black neck before he climbed up behind her. The warmth of him at her back, arms sliding around her, drew a soft breath from her lips — one she hoped he didn't catch.

But then she relaxed, leaning back just a fraction into his chest, letting her hands rest lightly over his.

The ride hummed to life, lights warming around them, music drifting through the air.

Aren let herself smile — unguarded, quiet, real.

"…Yeah," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, "not a bad date spot at all."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

"Yeah, you're right. You definitely do have a thing for bad boys, plus your clone fetish... You must really find me hot then." Omen playfully nudged right back as they got into line, fighting fire with fire, the only way he knew how with Aren. That faint smile was going to burn into his brain by the end of today.

The Clone smirked back as the purple-haired punk warned him he was getting too close to the edge, not like that was going to make him stop. "So you get to call me Old Man, but I can't call you Little Girl? At least mine is factually correct." He used his hand, moving it from their own shoulder to the top of her head to illustrate the size difference. "It was either that or calling you the Terrible Twenties so live with it. Thank you for admiting I'm cute though."

It was always nice to see he had an effect on her, either making her shiver or being so confused or mad that she lost the ability to speak. Waving to the other couples, he shouted out loud in an attempt to embarress Aren into submission and make the others know she wasn't going to kill them. "Sorry folks, still trying to help her grow a sense of humor. Its a very long long process." The swat brought his attention back on Aren, making his rub his hip like she had just broke it. "Oww... I'm going have to get used to being abused huh? And we both know you couldn't throw me with those little muscles of yours even if you wanted too. You are adorable when you're exasperated with me though."

She would hear a small click of Omen taking a pictue of her patting the horse on his phone, muttering softly to himself. "Yup, thats the new wallpaper..." before quickly climbing on after her, their bodies quickly fitting into one as the ride started up. Aren would feel his lips on the back of her neck, saying softly in that whisper that made her hair stand on end. "You're right Tech-Princess. Its not bad at all, espesially with you here~ And while I have you trapped with nowhere to go... You gonna tell me what you gossip with your friends and coworkers about?"

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren didn't bother hiding the little snort that escaped her when he asked about her "friends and coworkers," because the very idea of her working some neat little nine-to-five was ridiculous enough to cut through her annoyance. She turned her head just enough to glance back at him, the faintest smirk tugging at her mouth.

"Friends? Coworkers?" she echoed, tone dry as a desert. "Omen, I've never had a normal job in my life. You think somebody like me sits behind a desk filling out forms?" Her brow lifted as if challenging him even to imagine it.

She shifted slightly against him on the saddle, settling back into the curve of his chest, her voice dropping to something lower — not secretive, just careful. "And if you mean the Mandalorians…" She let the sentence breathe for a moment. "…you don't want to start digging into the kind of work they hand out. Trust me."

It wasn't a threat. It was a warning in the guise of affection.

One hand slid back to rest lightly on his thigh, fingers idly tapping against the fabric.
"Some things are better for you not to ask. Plausible deniability looks good on you."

Then, with a little shrug and a spark of mischief in her voice:
"Besides, the only gossip they get out of me is that you're a handful. And that you're useful sometimes, when you aren't being a menace."

She leaned back just enough for her shoulder to brush his chest, smug satisfaction in every millimeter of contact.
"So no — stop imagining me gossiping in a break room over boxed lunches. If I'm talking to anybody, it's clan business. And half of that… isn't for your ears."

A beat.
Then the smirk sharpened.

"But keep kissing the back of my neck like that, and maybe I'll tell you something, Old Man."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen just shook his head as Aren challenged him to imagine her in a desk, and to be truthful, he couldn't either. The same could be said for himself. Both of them hated not being able to control their own lives. "Never said I did. I do imagine you have chat rooms or direct messaging on the side while you work on projects. I can't be the only person you talk to on the regular."

He could only nod softly at her warning and squeezed her to tell her he understood. "Don't worry, I'm not going to. I've done enough butcher work for a lifetime... The only reason I would ask is if I had to pull you out of a fire." She was right, his not knowing anything about her work or clan was probably
better for everyone. And if the clan knew everything about him... Then they would really have a problem on their hands.

Omen ended the talk with "Fine, I'll stop trying to get to know your second life, I just wanted to make sure you have people around you that care about you other than me." Cupping her chin, he leaned around to peck her lips lovingly as the ride started to slow down and come to an end. "Not as much as me mind you." Hopping off the black steed, he gave her a hand off as he said. "And now you get to pick the next attraction and I look forward to seeing what you pick for us, even its just walking among the flowers."

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren blinked at him as she stepped down, her fingers threading through his almost automatically. When he mentioned "other people she talked to," she huffed a quiet laugh — soft, dry, and unmistakably her.

"Chat rooms? Messaging?" she echoed, an eyebrow lifting as she dusted imaginary sand from her jacket. "If you think I have some secret circle of friends sending me heart emojis while I solder power couplings, you're giving me too much credit."

She nudged his shoulder lightly with hers as they started walking.

"I'm… not social, Omen," she admitted, not defensive, just honest. "I have clan contacts, mission threads, a few Mandalorian channels when I need them. But people who actually talk to me?"
A small shrug.
"It's a short list. You're at the top of it."

His worry — that protective tug in his words — softened something deep behind her ribs. She didn't pull away this time. She let his hand stay on her chin for that quick kiss, her lips brushing his in a way that lingered just slightly longer than intended.

"And you're right," she murmured. "You don't need to know my second life. If there's ever a fire… you'll know. I won't keep that from you."

They reached the edge of the ride platform, and she slid her hand up his arm, fingers curling gently at the bend of his elbow.

"But don't go inventing some lonely martyr story," she added, tone turning playful again. "I'm not without people who care. And I have you, don't I? That counts for something."

She stepped closer, the barest hint of a smile curving her mouth.

"You're the only one who pulls me out of bed, steals my muffins, and drags me onto rides," she teased. "I think that qualifies as… caring."

Her gaze traveled over the park — the flowers, the food stalls, the scatter of performers — and then she looked back at him, expression gentler now.

"As for the next stop," she said, squeezing his fingers, "I was thinking…"

She tipped her head toward the winding flower path nearby — bright petals under warm sunlight, couples strolling lazily beneath arching vines.

"Walk with me," she finished quietly. "Just… that. A little time without noise."

And she didn't let go of his hand as she led him there.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen shrugged his shoulders as they walked, a smile not leaving his face as their hands locked together like they were meant to be. "I'll always give you too much credit. It's called lifting you even when you think you don't deserve it." Aren's social standing wasn't a surprise to him. She didn't hide her loner nature by acting around him. It made him proud in a way that he was one of the only people to connect with her. "I was just hoping I could have someone to complain with about your snoring, is all." Nudging her shoulder back as he smirked, hoping that he would hear her snoring for the rest of his lifetime.

The Clone had no doubt he would hear about a mission going bad in the form of blaster fire hitting the front of their new home before Aren had the chance to tell him anything, but it was the thought that counts. It's why he had the Verpine Needler pistol stored in the nightstand, along with other weapons stored elsewhere if needed. Aren might think of it as him doubting her abilities, but when so many people wanted to kill them, including his own kind, it was best to be prepared.

As she stepped closer, Omen had a smirk of his own as he pulled her in by her hips. "If anything, I'm going to make up a story of someone who spends too much time interacting with her toys rather than people, including her boyfriend. But yes, you do have me and always will as long as you want me. I just want to have some kind of life with you and we can't do that in bed... or atleast, not all the time~" Smiling at her suggestion, he let her lead them to their non-existent destination. It was the journey that he was going to enjoy.

After a few minutes, the sound of her phone going off in her pocket would ruin this quiet moment. "Is that work?" When Aren would open her phone up to flowers, roses and lipstick kiss emojis from unknown number with Omen looking over her shoulder. "Huh... Guess one of your work colleuges likes you more than you thought..." She would probably soon see him with a burner phone in his pocket with his finger punching in the keys. The Clone wished he still had a helmet over his head, just to hide his giggles. For now, biting his lip would have to do.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

The moment the notification pinged, Aren came to a halt, as if someone had just yanked her by an invisible cable. She pulled the comm from her pocket with the expectation of seeing a clan message, a tech request, or one of the Mandalorian quartermasters complaining about a part she'd "borrowed" without asking.

Instead, she found roses.
Lipstick kisses.
A wink.

Aren stared at the screen in the way someone stared at a reactor about to melt down — not afraid, just deeply, profoundly unimpressed.

Very slowly, she turned her head toward Omen.

"…One of my colleagues," she echoed, her voice so dry it nearly cracked in the air. "Yes. Because the Mandalorians are absolutely known for sending flirty little emojis in the middle of the workday. Very on-brand."

She went back to the screen. Another rose arrived. Another kiss. She blinked once. Then, without warning, she slipped her free hand into Omen's pocket with expert precision, ignoring his startled sound, and produced the burner phone he had tried to hide. She held it up between two fingers, as if it were evidence in an ongoing investigation.

"Omen."
The name alone was a warning.

She tapped the back of the burner with one finger. That was all.
Just a tap.

A soft, almost delicate pulse of electricity crawled over the device — the kind only she could feel, the kind that barely skimmed the edge of her mechu-deru ability. A promise. A threat. A gentle reminder that she could reduce the phone to molten scrap in under two seconds if she felt like it.

"I want you to think very carefully," she said, her eyes narrowing with slow, dangerous amusement, "about whether this tiny, helpless piece of circuitry deserves to live."

Her voice remained perfectly calm as she added, "Because I can kill this phone with a thought, Omen. A thought. I don't even need to touch it. And I don't even have to make it explode — I can make it send your entire search history to Clan Intelligence instead."

She watched the faint flicker of fear — or regret—or maybe anticipation-pass behind his eyes. Only then did she shove the burner against his chest.

"Delete. It. Now."

But she didn't fry it.
She could have.
He knew she could have.
But she didn't.

Instead, she looped her arm back around his waist, tugging him closer almost without thinking — the comfortable closeness they had slipped into so fast it still startled her when she realized it. His body fit against hers without effort, without need for thought, and she leaned into him with an ease she had never allowed herself with anyone else.

"Honestly," she muttered as they started walking again, her hip brushing his in an absent, familiar way, "if I ever start snoring, I'll make sure I suffocate you with a pillow before you can complain. That is a promise."

There was a beat of quiet before she nudged him again, more gently this time, unable to hide the warmth that softened the edges of her voice.

"And for the record… yes. You're right."

Her fingers slid through his, slow and deliberate.

"I do want you. That wasn't a lie."

She didn't say more. She didn't need to.

The warmth of her hand in his, the subtle lean of her body against his side, the loose smile she tried very hard to hide — they said enough for both of them.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen could virtually hear her eyes lock onto him, and he knew the game was up. He knew it wouldn't take a genius to spot what he was doing, but he would have thought it would have taken more than just a couple of seconds to figure it out. "I mean... I would be if I worked with you..." The look she gave was like some raptor about to tear him apart was enough to shut him out and never try any loving pranks on her ever again. Aren had definitely made him think twice about doing anything in the future.

The Clone didn't stop her from grabbing the phone, knowing he was in enough trouble already. The look she got when she helped herself to the burner was one of a little kitten when it knew it had done something wrong, its eyes getting big as he waited for her forgiveness. That little pulse of electricty made his eyes really go wide as he wondered when Aren had got that ability. He could only plead for his little phone's life. "Please, its got a wife and kids... Please have some mercy in that tiny heart of yours...~" At her threat at sending, a tiny smile appeared. "All they will find is me searching up new tools to get you... and maybe some outfits for you that don't cover alot of skin. I'm sure Clan Intelligence would love to see them." In reality, he had just got the burner just to mess with her a bit. His search history at home... that was another subject entirely.

The phone being slapped into his chest, he did as asked and deleted the messages before slidding the phone back in his pocket. Walking with her, their bodies sewn together, he could help wondering what she was thinking other then various ways to hide his body. All he was thinking aboutis how he could walk like this with her forever. "You probably wouldn't even have use a pillow. Just roll over and it would have the same effect." But then she did something he didn't expect, actually express her feelings. "Hmm... I would say where my Aren is but only you could have those powers. And I want you too, espessially when you leave on missions and I'm stuck at home. You are always on my mind Aren D'Shade, never forget it." Cupping her chin, he leaned down to give her a quick peck on the lips before settling in for basking in her warmth of her affection. In his heart, Aren had already claimed her spot and he wanted her in there, holding on to her forever or atleast as long as he could.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren didn't even look at him at first — she just exhaled through her nose, short and sharp, the kind of sound that said you're lucky I like you far louder than words ever could. The phone buzzed against her palm, still warm from where she'd nearly shorted it out, and she flicked her eyes down long enough to verify he'd deleted the messages before sliding it right back into his pocket with a firm, unmistakable jab of a finger.

"Next time you try something like that," she said, voice low and deceptively calm, "I won't kill the phone. I'll kill the whole network."

A tiny spark flickered across her fingertips — not enough to damage anything, just enough to make her point. Omen's face went pale enough that she knew he understood.

And because she adored him more than she'd ever admit out loud, she let the corner of her mouth tilt up — just a little — before she retook his hand. Her fingers threaded through his automatically, like they'd been doing it all their lives.

"That tiny heart of mine is the only reason your stupid jokes still have a pulse," she muttered, bumping her shoulder into his as they walked. "I swear, you make it real hard to pretend I'm the responsible one."

The park path curved beneath them, warm sunlight cutting soft edges into the moment, and she hated how easy it was to fall into step with him. Hated how good it felt. And when he kissed her chin and murmured that she was on his mind, something tight and familiar twisted in her chest — fear, affection, and a dizzy, unguarded warmth all tangled into one.

She rolled her eyes to keep her balance.

"You're always stuck at home because you turn every mission into a disaster waiting to happen," she said, though her voice had softened around the edges. "And don't look so surprised, I said something nice. It happens once every… I don't know. Century."

But her hand tightened in his, just a little — a silent, steady I meant it.

She nudged him with her hip, leaning in just enough that her shoulder brushed the side of his arm.

"And for the record," she added quietly, almost under her breath, "you don't need to wonder where your Aren is. She's right here. Walking with you. For as long as you manage not to get yourself killed."

Her eyes flicked up toward him — warm, sharp, and unmistakably his.

"Now come on," she said, tugging him forward. "We weren't done enjoying our date before you decided to make me threaten your electronics."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen's mind was still on the fact that he had never seen those powers of hers before, and was wondering where she had got them from, when his eyes met the tiny lifted corners of her mouth, letting him know that she still had some patience left in her body. As their hands were interwoven together, the Clone pledged himself to love her even more. It's what she deserved after all.

As he heard her mutterings, Omen just shook his head before giving her his own look of "You are talking out of your cute ass". "No, the only reason is you haven't covered my mouth and bound my hands with Duct Tape yet. I might talk and try my jokes a lot less. Makes me think you totally don't hate my way of giving you affection." And then he couldn't help it, he started to laugh so hard he half bent over. "Really... You... The responsible one... Little Miss "I don't know where that palette of robotics parts went, boss, but I can tell you they certainly aren't on my work bench right now." D'shade. Miss... "Just this little small ration bar is enough for breakfast, right?" I swear if I didn't feed you, you would wither away." It took him a minute to try to recover himself, wiping the tears out of his eyes as he tried to fend off any of the punches coming the Clone's way. "If you were responsible, I wouldn't have to drag you off that workstation and make you come to bed every night."

She was right about one thing. Being with her was the best thing that had ever happened to him. That same fear of losing her if he ever let go, how much he adored seeing her, no matter what time of the day. How thoughts about marrying her drifted into his mind as he watched her work on her next invention. If she only knew half what was in his mind about her daily, she might really faint.

Omen couldn't help but look mock offended when she called him out on his record. "Hey! One mission together is not a good sample size. If you invited me more, maybe we actually would work well together." At least her body language suggested that she didn't completely hate him. Squeezing her hand back, he leaned, saying softly so she could hear. "It does happen. Sometimes I record them to let myself know you don't totally hate being with me. Gives me a little self-confidence for the road ahead." Thank the ones she didn't fry the phone he had. Then he wouldn't be able to listen to her say "I do want you" over and over again later.

Loving her every touch, his hand reached over to glide down her spinal column as he listened to her quiet confession, saying back in a loving purr. "I'm glad you are here. I wouldn't want anyone else to hold my hand. No one could make me complete like you do. Oh, and..." He couldn't help but grin as he whispered in Aren's ear, as bits of red grew in her cheeks. "It's adorable that my little Mando Warrior wants to protect me and keep me out of harm's way. Shows me how much you care~" If her head didn't instantly explode after all that, he would keep walking with her, right up to the end.

Letting him pull her along, he spied something at one stall that caught his eye. Thankfully, he was able to get his wallet out without Aren noticing, too busy pulling him ahead. A minute or two later, she would feel something slide around her head, a daisy crown, and when she turned back to glare at her partner, she was met with a grin that would light up the night. "That's punishment for criminal threats against my phone." Omen leaned in close again, their lips threatening to touch for a couple of seconds before he said with affection. "You never told me... what's your love language?" It had been an open question of his, how she liked to be loved best. And what wouldn't get the air taken out of him when she punched him in the gut for trying the wrong way.

Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren stopped mid-stride the moment she felt something settle onto her head. The sensation was light, soft—too soft to be anything dangerous. Still, she froze like someone who'd just felt a targeting laser lock onto her skull. Slowly, very slowly, she reached up and brushed her fingers over delicate petals.

A flower crown.

A daisy crown.

Of all things.

She turned, already preparing the glare—the one that could make grown soldiers rethink their entire life path—but the sight that met her was Omen wearing a grin so bright, so pleased with himself, that her annoyance cracked down the middle before it could fully form. Her lips twitched upward, a reluctant, heat-threaded smile that betrayed her faster than she would have liked.

"...You're lucky this is biodegradable," she muttered, fingers brushing the flowers again as if confirming they were real. "Otherwise I'd make you eat it."

But she didn't remove it.
She didn't even touch the knot at the back.

Instead, she stepped closer, shoulder brushing his, eyes half-narrowed but warm beneath the surface. He leaned in like he expected the full force of her irritation. Instead, she bumped his forehead lightly with hers—still her version of affection, but gentler than anything she'd usually allow in public.

"Consider your phone safe for the next hour," she said in a low, amused murmur, "but only because you went through all that trouble."

She slipped her hand back into his as they continued walking, letting him feel the quiet presence of her fingers curled around his without resistance. The annoyance was gone now—melted into something softer, steadier, almost content. And when he asked his question, her steps slowed, but she didn't stop.

"My love language?" She huffed out a dry little laugh. "Thought I was being pretty obvious."

They reached a small open stretch overlooking the flower beds, and she tugged him aside, turning so she could look at him without the crowd pressing in. Her free hand lifted, brushing lightly along his forearm—not shy, not bold, just real. She let her thumb trace the inside of his wrist for a moment before she spoke.

"It's touch," she admitted quietly, matter-of-fact, without flinching from the honesty. "Not… big dramatic stuff. Just the small things. Hands. Leaning. Being close."

Her gaze flicked up, and she gave him the smallest, wryest smile.

"And loyalty. That's the other one."

She squeezed his hand.

"You stay. You show up. And you don't make me guess." A soft exhale. "Everything else is noise I can ignore."

She leaned in again, brushing her shoulder against his like it was instinct.

"So, that's your answer. Don't overthink it."

Then—finally—she smirked, tapping the daisy crown with one finger.

"But this? This is only allowed because I love you. Don't push your luck, old man."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Aren try to find out what the hell he had put on her head, taking the chance to take a picture while he still was conscious. Grinning from end to end, as Aren couldn't help but do the same, he replied with, "For that photo, I would happily eat it whole. Even you have to admit it, you look precious with it on." Before she could protest, he showed her the photo he took as proof, with that hint of a smile on her face making her even more adorable in his eyes. "I wonder what your clan contacts would say if they saw their grumpy Aren like this?"

The Clone's smile didn't leave his face as their bodies rubbed up against each other like a large ship coming into dock, locking into place where they belonged. Her hand belonged in his, of that he was certain. When she bumped her forehead into his, he held it there, his fingers tracing her jaw, savoring every moment that she let her true heart show. "Mmm... I'm so grateful for your compassion. You saved the life of a phone today."

It looked like her confession hit Omen like a sledgehammer. Suddenly, all of her shoulder rubs made sense now. "Yeah, it should be... Guess I thought you were just rubbing against me just to feel my baby soft skin." It made sense, though. Aren would rather use touch than actually compliment him any day of the week. Touch was her way of showing she cared for him without embarrassing herself by actually saying just how much she was thankful that he was in her life. "You really must adore me then."

Loyalty made sense, too. "I thought there was a reason you always liked waking up to seeing me beside you." The Clone didn't think the smile could come off his face, and maybe with Aren, it never would. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles as his smile showed just how happy she made him. "And don't worry, I won't. I'll just embrace you every chance I can get now."

And then she said the L word... Omen stopped in his tracks, stopping her like an anchor as a frenzy of voices spouted in his head, debating if he had really heard right. It might take a moment for Aren to bring the shellshocked Clone to his senses. Trying to hide his watering eyes, he quickly wiped them and took a deep breath. "I... didn't think you would say that to me today... That makes me really, really happy." His hands gave her shoulders around as he twisted her to face him, kissing her hard on the lips till both of their air ran out. It was all he could do to reply to such a statement of trust in his love for her.

Finally, he pulled back, slowly coming down from his emotional high. "Sorry, guess I got overwhelmed there... If you want to take a turn asking questions, feel free. Otherwise, let's continue." And continue they did, walking wherever the wind blew them like the flower petals in this garden.

Aren D'Shade