#trxiree writes

[trixree]

1 MONTH LATE BUT HERE IT IS @kine-iende! I hope it does not disappoint! <3

It’s a rare thing that the 501st and 212th are dirtside on Coruscant together. Although, not quite as rare as it would be for any other two random battalions. No, given Kenobi and Skywalker’s close working relationship (although “working” is a loaded term; in Rex’s humble opinion, their relationship stutters along like a broken walker over rocky terrain, ori’vod and vod’ika that get along like two bulls locked in a very small cage made entirely of red bars) it happens to be that when the 212th gets leave, it’s a 50/50 shot that the 501st will, also. 

And Rex isn’t complaining. He’ll take a day spent in Cody and Ahsoka’s company over Fives’ and Echo’s anyday, if only to give his constant stress migraine a rest. Although it is… strange to be left in a General’s apartment. 

Kenobi’s berth at the Jedi Temple is a greenhouse. Thick green and yellow leaves clog up the windows, letting only slivers of sunlight through their sticky fingers, and climb inexorably from their ceiling baskets to the floors in great, tangled arms. Everything else is a perfect picture of tidiness— save for the terrifying and unknown Beyond of General Skywalker’s bedroom, hidden behind a firmly shut door. (Rex has seen the General’s quarters on their ship. He has no need to acquire yet another type of mold poisoning.)

“I’m hungry,” Ahsoka whines from her upside-down perch off the back of Kenobi’s couch. She digs her toes into Rex’s thigh to punctuate her displeasure. 

Cody, sat on the opposite couch with a datapad and therefore free of Ahsoka’s torment, hums contemplatively. “Unfortunate,” he says. 

“Reeeeexxxxxx,” she drawls, turning “x” into a snake-like hissing sound of misery. 

“No.” He’d like to return to his novel. Unlike a certain Marshal Commander, Rex’s hobbies are actual leisure activities and not simply more datawork or strange, unending bouts of research on sustainable agriculture or whatever. Unlike said soulless automaton, Rex can enjoy a bit of fiction with his war and misery. 

“You’re just gonna’ let me starve?”

“Yes.” 

Cody huffs out a noiseless laugh. Without looking up from his two-thousand cell spreadsheet, he adds, “Starving is preferable to trying to choke down whatever Rex’ika cooks.” 

False. Lies and slander. 

“How do you know?” Rex asks, lowering his novel so as to fix Cody with his best glare. 

Cody, still not looking up, arches a brow. “I’ve seen you soak a ration bar in caf overnight and eat it with a spoon in the morning.” 

Ahsoka gags. Rex pushes her off the couch. 

“Like you’re any better!”

Cody scoffs. “My skills are innumerable and outmatched.” 

Two white and blue montrals peek out over the couch back like a gopher sticking its snout out of a hole. Predator-sharp teeth appear out from behind smiling lips. Ahsoka’s eyes double in size as she croons, “Ori’vod—” 

“No,” Cody drawls. 

“Pleaaaaaaase?” 

“No.” 

“But how else can you prove that you’re a better cook than Rex?” 

Cody looks up. She has his attention, now. She is Rex’s cleverist vod’ika, but certainly not his favorite. No, she’s too clever to be a favorite. Too much of a pain in the shebs, her and her clever brain. Case in point, she has found the one thing that never fails to engage the beloved and feared Marshal Commander’s attention: competition. 

“Go on,” Cody prompts, steepling his fingers under his chin. 

Ahsoka points at the kitchen. “You and Rexy both cook me something and I judge whose food is better. Oh! And Skyguy and Master Obi can judge, too! When they come back from the meeting with the Chancellor!” She waggles her brow-markings at Cody in a terrible imitation of Fives’ patented eyebrow dance. “You’re gonna’ pass on an opportunity to woo Master Obi?”  

Rex snorts. “Their idea of ‘wooing’ involves ancient poetry and kicking Grievous in the face-plate.” 

“‘Four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one: so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature’ [1],” Cody sniffs. He stands, setting his datapad on the low caf table, and brushing invisible dirt from his dress greys. 

“I have no idea what you just said,” Rex admits. 

“I think he called you stupid,” Ahsoka offers. 

“Fantastic.” 

“And what are we making you, oh fine and esteemed judge?” Cody asks, carefully folding his sleeves to the elbow and already walking off towards the kitchen. 

Ahsoka leaps up after him, hollering suggestions. With a heavy sigh, Rex follows. He knows he’s about to get his ass handed to him on a silver platter. No one does needless and petty competition like Cody does needless and petty competition. A trauma surgeon could challenge Cody to open heart surgery and Cody’s first question would be “where’s the OR?”

Ahsoka settles on pasta as she settles into a kitchen chair. Rex despairs at her inability to sit normally—she’s spun the thing around so that it’s back is at her front, arms folded over the top and pointy chin resting atop her folded hands, pleased as pie. Anakin sits normally. She must have picked it up from Cody’s problem-Jedi. Although Ahsoka’s take on the tradition involves considerably less draping and more acrobatic folding. 

“Pasta,” Rex repeats. He watches Cody reach for something in the pantry only to get kicked in the shin. “Fuck!” 

“No cheating,” Cody snaps. He hides his bounty behind his back, teeth and gums bared. 

“Cheating?! How do I cheat at cooking?” 

“By sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Cody replies. 

“Yeah!” Ahsoka echoes. 

“We haven’t even started yet,” Rex grits out through clenched teeth. Maybe he was wrong. Fives and Echo can’t possibly be more annoying than these two. 

Cody tsks. “This is why you’re losing, Rex’ika.” 

With a wordless noise of frustration, Rex throws open the pantry and starts looking for… ingredients. Ingredients for pasta. Which he totally knows how to make and absolutely knows what it looks like. He’s for sure had pasta before, right? 

Right? 

He paws through can after can of veg and… other substances, roots through a couple metal containers before deciding that they all just have dried leaves in them, and prods at the white powder in a paper bag labeled “FLOUR” in aurebesh. 

“You doing okay there, Rexter?” Ahsoka teases. 

“Silence from the gallery,” Rex shoots back. 

A clicking and whoosing sound catches his attention and he turns to find that Cody already has a big metal pot on the stove and a small fire going. It must be a gas stove. Rex has never even seen one of those used before. The stoves on the ship are all electric. 

Fuck. 

He turns back to the pantry, shoves some things around, and declares, “Cody took all of the pasta so I don’t know what you expect me to do here.” Fucking saboteur.

Cody and Ahsoka blink at him. 

“Rex,” Ahsoka says. Stops. Blinks at him. 

“Vod’ika,” Cody says in a soothing tone. “Explain to me how what you are holding is not pasta.” 

Rex looks down at the box in his hands. He’d picked it up to get it out of the way of his line of sight. The box says “FARFALLE” above a picture of a very sharp looking bow-shaped necktie. “Uh,” he stalls. 

Cody waits. 

“Uh.” 

Ahsoka stands up and claps her hands together once. “Well,” she says, but with a “p” at the end, sounding like welp, and then adds, “Cody wins!” 

“This victory is Pyrrhic,” Cody says. 

“I haven’t even started,” Rex protests. 

“You’re done, Rexter. You’re done. Go sit down,” Ahsoka soothes. Cody nods somberly. She takes him gently by the shoulders and attempts to steer him back to the couch.

Rex digs his heels in. “Wait, is this pasta? This is not pasta. Right? Right?” 

“Poor dumb Rex,” Ahsoka tuts. 

“Hey! I'm right here!"

"I will have silence from the gallery. Let there be silence. I am cooking. Stop causing a scene, Rex. I raised you better than that."

[1] Much Ado About Nothing, Act 1, Scene 1

#speed commissions #trxiree writes #commander cody my beloved #captain rex my beloved #ahsoka tano #let the clones cook pasta dinner for each other #i think that would have ended the clone wars #implied codywan