Jump Start - #01 - SW: Repcom - Ordo / Besany
Title: Jump Start
Pairing: Null Arc 11 - Ordo / Agent Besany Wennen
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG
Word Count: 720
Theme: #01 - On the phone
Comm: 30_distractions
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holder. Characters belong to their respective owners.
Summary: And after that, it was an interesting night.
(Prompt Table)
The conversations they had over comlink were often short, and sometimes awkward. Yet up until now, she had never fully found herself at a loss for words. Besany shifted the comlink from her right shoulder to her left and resumed chopping Naboo roots. They’d set off the local gingerfruit nicely, and finish off the last two dishes for next week’s set of dinners. Preparing meals ahead of schedule was a force of habit, as work rarely allowed her enough time to heat up a pre-made dinner on even the best of days.
The silence grated on her nerves. Her face felt hot and all she wanted to do was hide under her covers from sheer embarrassment. Why hasn't he said anything? He must think I'm obsessed. Last time I listen to Mereel…
“Ordo? I’m sorry, that was inappro-”
“Red,” he interrupted softly.
Her teeth clicked together as her mouth snapped shut. She felt a flush creep up her neck as she failed to suppress a sheepish cringe, lips pressed together in a tight half smile.
“Red?” she asked, and laid down the blade on the cutting board.
“My fatigues,” he explained.
Besany swallowed and wiped her palms on a spare hand-towel. A part of her noted that this conversation steadily spiraled past awkward territory. She closed her eyes and rested against her kitchen counter, envisioning her Null leaning beside a wall and talking quietly in the comlink to her. Halfway across the galaxy, he said.
In just his fatigues.
“And you?”
Her eyes popped open. “I…” She paused and chewed on her lower lip. Oh, had she been someone else, she’d have said she didn’t think this through. But Besany was nothing if not thorough, and so that was not the case.
However, this was new territory for her. Or, perhaps, old territory never once revisited, up until her constant worrying and stress gave her the final push necessary to try something… different.
“Well…” She grinned nervously in the empty apartment and wrung the towel in her hands. Then, in a lowered voice, she continued, “I’m wearing a… dress.”
“A dress?” He chuckled darkly. “Really.”
A chill ran up her spine and heat curled in the pit of her stomach. “Business casual,” she elaborated. “It’s a turquoise green.”
“Green,” he murmured. In the background she heard bedsprings groan and assumed her Null was getting comfortable. Besany wondered what she was still doing in her kitchen.
“You’ve seen it,” she reminded him.
“I have.” He spoke roughly, voice dark, dangerous, and husky. “Besany.”
Her breath caught in her throat as a shiver peppered her spine. She pressed her open hand against the curve of her stomach as her eyes fluttered closed. The memory of that night several months ago came flooding back.
An outing in Coruscant’s nightlife materialized in her mind. The two of them, almost like a normal couple doing normal couple things-dining out, simple entertainment, dancing, and a speedy return home for other activities. Moments like those, snapshots of memory, she often found trouble reconciling with his harder, colder side.
Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, she grabbed the side of the counter to keep her balance and nearly dropped the com.
She missed him. Terribly.
The realization shattered the mood on her end. “O-ordo.” Her voice cracked.
“Cyar’ika?” Though she couldn’t see him, she somehow knew he was at rapt attention, no longer relaxed on his bed, or cot, or wherever he happened to be at the moment.
“I miss you,” she confessed lamely. Funny how he’s the sometimes master of social faux pas, and yet you interrupt the most common intergalactic conversation between couples everywhere. “When will you be back on Triple Zero?”
“Soon, cyar’ika,” he answered. “I will see you soon.”
The conversation drifted to small talk regarding his brothers as she completed the meal preparations and packaged the food away in labeled containers. On autopilot, she tossed the utensils to soak in her sink. Her feet led her to her couch, where she simply melted into the cushions and spare blanket as she shifted the comlink to the other ear.
“…while I can’t say I disapprove, I-”
“Ord’ika,” she interrupted gently.
“Yes, cyar’ika?”
Besany decided, for the second time that night, to reattempt the jumpstart to the conversation.
“What are you wearing?”
Pairing: Null Arc 11 - Ordo / Agent Besany Wennen
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG
Word Count: 720
Theme: #01 - On the phone
Comm: 30_distractions
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of any copyright holder. Characters belong to their respective owners.
Summary: And after that, it was an interesting night.
(Prompt Table)
The conversations they had over comlink were often short, and sometimes awkward. Yet up until now, she had never fully found herself at a loss for words. Besany shifted the comlink from her right shoulder to her left and resumed chopping Naboo roots. They’d set off the local gingerfruit nicely, and finish off the last two dishes for next week’s set of dinners. Preparing meals ahead of schedule was a force of habit, as work rarely allowed her enough time to heat up a pre-made dinner on even the best of days.
The silence grated on her nerves. Her face felt hot and all she wanted to do was hide under her covers from sheer embarrassment. Why hasn't he said anything? He must think I'm obsessed. Last time I listen to Mereel…
“Ordo? I’m sorry, that was inappro-”
“Red,” he interrupted softly.
Her teeth clicked together as her mouth snapped shut. She felt a flush creep up her neck as she failed to suppress a sheepish cringe, lips pressed together in a tight half smile.
“Red?” she asked, and laid down the blade on the cutting board.
“My fatigues,” he explained.
Besany swallowed and wiped her palms on a spare hand-towel. A part of her noted that this conversation steadily spiraled past awkward territory. She closed her eyes and rested against her kitchen counter, envisioning her Null leaning beside a wall and talking quietly in the comlink to her. Halfway across the galaxy, he said.
In just his fatigues.
“And you?”
Her eyes popped open. “I…” She paused and chewed on her lower lip. Oh, had she been someone else, she’d have said she didn’t think this through. But Besany was nothing if not thorough, and so that was not the case.
However, this was new territory for her. Or, perhaps, old territory never once revisited, up until her constant worrying and stress gave her the final push necessary to try something… different.
“Well…” She grinned nervously in the empty apartment and wrung the towel in her hands. Then, in a lowered voice, she continued, “I’m wearing a… dress.”
“A dress?” He chuckled darkly. “Really.”
A chill ran up her spine and heat curled in the pit of her stomach. “Business casual,” she elaborated. “It’s a turquoise green.”
“Green,” he murmured. In the background she heard bedsprings groan and assumed her Null was getting comfortable. Besany wondered what she was still doing in her kitchen.
“You’ve seen it,” she reminded him.
“I have.” He spoke roughly, voice dark, dangerous, and husky. “Besany.”
Her breath caught in her throat as a shiver peppered her spine. She pressed her open hand against the curve of her stomach as her eyes fluttered closed. The memory of that night several months ago came flooding back.
An outing in Coruscant’s nightlife materialized in her mind. The two of them, almost like a normal couple doing normal couple things-dining out, simple entertainment, dancing, and a speedy return home for other activities. Moments like those, snapshots of memory, she often found trouble reconciling with his harder, colder side.
Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, she grabbed the side of the counter to keep her balance and nearly dropped the com.
She missed him. Terribly.
The realization shattered the mood on her end. “O-ordo.” Her voice cracked.
“Cyar’ika?” Though she couldn’t see him, she somehow knew he was at rapt attention, no longer relaxed on his bed, or cot, or wherever he happened to be at the moment.
“I miss you,” she confessed lamely. Funny how he’s the sometimes master of social faux pas, and yet you interrupt the most common intergalactic conversation between couples everywhere. “When will you be back on Triple Zero?”
“Soon, cyar’ika,” he answered. “I will see you soon.”
The conversation drifted to small talk regarding his brothers as she completed the meal preparations and packaged the food away in labeled containers. On autopilot, she tossed the utensils to soak in her sink. Her feet led her to her couch, where she simply melted into the cushions and spare blanket as she shifted the comlink to the other ear.
“…while I can’t say I disapprove, I-”
“Ord’ika,” she interrupted gently.
“Yes, cyar’ika?”
Besany decided, for the second time that night, to reattempt the jumpstart to the conversation.
“What are you wearing?”