Mornings on Pabu were always the same. The sun would poke through the curtains as the sound of the steady waves crashing onto the rocks followed. Maybe a moon-yo would hoot in the distance, but the mornings on Pabu were always peaceful; an atmosphere that had once been so rare for the clones of the Bad Batch.

But things were different now, and Tech wouldn’t trade it for the whole galaxy.

Curled up and snoring softly, Tech held his love close as the sun started to rise behind the drawn curtains.