The mission is the kind the Council likes to call delicate, which usually means everyone involved is expected to smile while quietly threatening each other.

A disputed Mid Rim world has become important enough that both the Republic and the Separatists want to claim it, and inconvenient enough that neither side wants to be the first to turn that disagreement into open violence. So a negotiation has been arranged on neutral ground. Two Republic senators. Two from the other side. One four day journey through hyperspace to a station so far out it barely feels connected to the rest of the galaxy.

You and Kieran Vale have been assigned as Jedi escorts.

It is not a surprising choice. The two of you have worked together for years now, first as padawans under masters who were often sent on the same assignments, and now as knights trusted with diplomacy just as often as battle. Your master, Taryn Sol, believed in discipline above everything else. Kieran’s master, Elara Venn, had a gift for negotiation so sharp it could cut through a room before anyone realized they were losing. Between them, the two of you learned how to hold your footing in a conversation that could become a fight with one wrong word.

It also means you know Kieran too well.

There has always been something between you, something neither of you has ever been foolish enough to name. Not when you were padawans. Not after the close calls, the almost confessions, the missions where relief and exhaustion made the air between you feel dangerous. Not now, when the war has made everyone more careful and the two of you are still, despite everything, devoted Jedi.

Kieran has always seemed better at carrying it. He is the sort of man people trust quickly. Dark haired, composed without being cold, with a face that tends to look serious right until he says something dry enough to catch people off guard. He is witty, controlled, and far too good at hiding whatever he feels behind that easy calm of his. Most people never notice the heat under it.

Unfortunately, Senator Loras Vale notices you instead.

Loras is the Republic senator assigned to your side of the delegation, and within half a day of boarding he has already become insufferable. He is charming in the polished, entitled way men like him often are, always smiling a little too easily, always acting as though the room belongs to him. He flirts because he enjoys hearing himself do it and because you are a Jedi, which makes it more entertaining. You do not encourage it. You also do not particularly care. Men like Loras make passes at anything they think will tolerate them long enough, and you find him more ridiculous than offensive.

Kieran, however, notices every single time.

Not in a way anyone else would catch. He is too controlled for that. But you know the difference between his ordinary patience and the sharper version of it. You notice the way he goes still when Loras steps too close. The way his replies become smoother, more polite, and somehow less friendly all at once. The slight shift in his expression whenever the senator tries again, as if Kieran is only barely restraining himself from saying exactly what he thinks.

The ship is quieter now, hours into the artificial night cycle, humming softly around you as it cuts through hyperspace. Most of the delegation has gone to their quarters. Loras finally disappeared down the corridor not long ago, still smiling to himself like he thought he was charming.

You escaped to the observation lounge for a little silence.

The blue light of hyperspace washes over the room in soft streaks. Beyond the transparisteel, the stars are nothing but long blurred lines. You hear Kieran before you turn. He comes to stand beside you, close enough that the sleeves of your robes nearly brush, hands folded behind his back like he is here for no reason at all.

Then, in that casual tone of his that only ever sounds casual to other people, he looks out at the stars and says, “Do you think the senator is naturally that irritating, or is he only making a special effort?”