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When Vel’s been out on patrol for long enough, she starts seeing things in the snow. She’s heard the recruits talk about it as well, the shadows that flit across the plains of ice, the sheets of white blown up by the wind, or worse, coming down in turbulent maelstroms from the heavy cloud cover. Sometimes there are strange green and purple lights off in the distance, halos at the horizon. She ignores them, usually. But it’s her last shift riding the strange gait of the Tauntaun and looking out of her macros into nothing at all. A little visual interest never hurt anyone. Her goggles are fogged and she’s sweaty despite being also incredibly cold, the sort of cold that doesn’t leave even after a sonic and the heavy exhausted sleep of a soldier. She’s leaving tomorrow on one of the incognito supply vessels to fulfill one of their contracts and hopefully pick some other supplies up besides. She’d gotten the orders two days ago from Mon and Organa. She’d been ordered to tell nobody. She’d told Kleya, who’d already known. I’m running comms on the mission, she’d said, like Vel was dumb, and clasped Vel’s arm at the elbow nervously. We’ll say goodbye tomorrow. All of Vel’s breath had gone out of her at the little bit of contact and it’s all she’s thought about during this patrol, how Kleya’s fingers tightened minutely when she said goodbye.
The shadow people dancing on the mountains whoop and weave their legs together, call to each other like lovers. Cinta would have hated it here, and Vel would have had to convince her of its beauty, and maybe then she wouldn’t be so cold, nights. She has to remind herself that the years have gone, that Cinta was good and she was always there where the trouble was, and she could have gone so many other ways since Ghorman. She reminds herself of Scarif, and Cassian, and Melshi, the droid, all the good men and women who’d died in the above melee and how she’d held Mon very carefully while they waited for annihilation. Kleya had been asleep, still recovering. Vel woke her when the weapon went up like an inferno and they watched together, sitting out on the steps of Vel’s hut as the fire streaked a brightened night sky. We’ll be moving, Kleya said. But there was a little stillness left for them.
Vel takes her gloves off first in the airlock, warming her hands in front of her mouth, then rushes in when the temperature reaches acceptable parameters. Here in the antechamber the equipment is lined up on the walls and it smells strongly of wet Tauntaun. It’s a race now to take the topmost layers off before she overheats. She dismounts the animal and pats its flank. She can barely see out of the goggles now, but she hands the reins off to whatever stable hand is on duty before taking them off. The waterproof layer is the hardest to get out of, but she shucks it onto the floor without too much difficulty, then the quilted overcoat. Both go up on pegs on the wall to be batch-dried later. The gloves go in a pile, but the hat and goggles are hers. She snaps the openings for the rest of her gear and heads into the hallway. She finds her replacement there, taking the corner at a sprint. “You’re late, Kowat!” she yells as he rushes past her into the antechamber.
“Sorry, Captain Sartha!” he shouts. “Got held up in a debrief!”
She shakes her head and leaves before they can get into a deeper conversation. Kowat is always looking for reassurance and she needs to give her report at the security office. She warms her fingers again. She’ll need them for the paperwork.
She finds Kleya in the mess sitting alone, eating the rations porridge slowly. Kleya looks up like she knows Vel is looking, smiles softly at her from across the tables, the straggling recruits lingering over breakfast.
She goes to her, unsure if this is how she wants to do it, saying goodbye with all these people nearby.
“I leave in four standard,” she says, even though Kleya knows that.
“Is this you coming to say goodbye?” Kleya asks, but there’s something under it.
Vel nods, suddenly unable to say the things she wants to say.
“That’s funny,” says Kleya, “because I thought I might come to tea at yours before you left.”
Vel stares at her for a moment. “Yes. I mean, yes, I’d like that. I have to take a sonic and—” she gestures to her damp clothes, still ripe with the smell of Tauntaun.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Kleya says, and gets up rather abruptly.
Vel stares at her, her mind turning that around for a moment. Well. Maybe—
They head down the halls together. Kleya knows the way to Vel’s quarters, but she probably knows the way to most quarters of the Rebels she knows by name. Vel sometimes comes into Mon’s rooms to see Kleya there, drinking something and looking if not relaxed, then at least comfortable.
When they get there, Vel takes off some of her over-layers and hangs them on the metal hooks outside the door so they don’t stink up the place. Then she lets them into her small quarters, which she thankfully doesn’t share with anyone. The base was put together in a slap-dash kind of way. Vel is just grateful she has a ‘fresher to herself. She flicks the heating and overhead lamp on and turns to Kleya awkwardly. She’s holding herself in a more rigid way than Vel is used to. Vel gestures to the cramped table and its one chair, covered in a Tauntaun fur. “Feel free to use the kettle, and any of the blends.”
“Thank you,” Kleya said. Vel strips down to her base layers as efficiently as possible, grabs some clean clothes and a towel and escapes into the ‘fresher.
She sonics the sweat and Tauntaun smell off her, then turns the water shower on for her daily allotment and allows it to turn her skin a blotchy pink before it gets too cold. She towels off, brushes her teeth, and while going through her little pile of clothes, realizes she didn’t pick up a shirt.
She exits the ‘fresher in her comfortable pair of brown pants and her everyday bra, which used to be white but now skews a gray-ish green under the sterile lamp. She’s really hoping she hasn’t read this wrong.
Kleya looks her up and down from where she’s sitting, poised on the chair. She hasn’t even switched the kettle on, instead she’s taken her hair down. She gets up in one lithe motion. Vel’s throat feels very dry.
“Sit down,” Kleya says, serious, and Vel does as she’s told on the edge of her bed, which is set into an alcove, a little lip of the mattress poking out. The heating kicks on full-force, Vel can feel it like static in the close space, dry and not quite warm enough. She feels how little room there is as Kleya closes the space between them.
She looks like she’s thinking hard, and Vel’s heart beats faster looking at her face in concentration. She moves into the vee of Vel’s legs and takes her face in her hands, the soft fabric of her shirt brushing against Vel’s ears. She shivers, looks up to Kleya, who’s biting her lip probably without even realizing it, her brow furrowed.
They stay like that for a while, Vel shifts a bit, opening her thighs and then putting a little pressure around Kleya’s legs. “Should I be worried it’s taking you this long to decide whether to kiss me?” she asks, trying for lightness.
“No,” Kleya says, then, after another pause. “I’ve never, is all.”
“You’ve never kissed someone?” Vel asks, trying not to sound too surprised. It clearly doesn’t work. Kleya raises an unimpressed eyebrow, her fingers twitching along Vel’s cheeks.
“There wasn’t the time,” she says, shortly.
“And nothing else?” Vel asks, and puts her hands cautiously on Kleya’s hips, lightly drawing a thumb across her pants above the pocket, still rough hemp linens from Yavin.
Kleya shakes her head slowly, which Vel can’t tell is her saying that she hasn’t, or that she doesn’t want to tell Vel about it. Vel says, “But you want to, with me?” She’s been worried all this time, thinking of Kleya feeling trapped on base, or like she owes Vel something. She’s been worried about Kleya ever since she found her walking out into the rain on Yavin. Worried that this game she was playing with herself where she imagines loving someone else would look like something else entirely from Kleya’s perspective. When Kleya had walked into her little room with her, that was the first time she’d been something close to sure. Just now.
Kleya nods, her mouth still worried. “Yes.”
Vel wants to say unwise things like, I promise I’ll take care of you. But saying so in the belly of an ice planet during wartime seems nearly absurd. Besides, Kleya can look after herself. Vel tips her head up, her chin like a challenge. All the hair on her arms is standing up. Kleya takes the bait, leans down and kisses Vel. She isn’t cautious, but it’s careful, Vel can still feel the tension at the corners of her lips. Closed mouth, Vel puts her hands at the back of Kleya’s neck when they part, and pulls her gently down again. Kleya tastes like a portion of their bland-tasting rations and something fresh and sour, mint. Vel lets her take charge of the kiss, tilts her head back as Kleya leans and leans into her open legs, opens her mouth into Kleya’s. She’s demanding and her mouth is hotter than Vel thought it would be. She wouldn’t have expected it. The ice is still in her skin even after the sonic, it’s nice to have Kleya warm and crowding into her space, her spit in Vel’s mouth. She’s still holding the upper half of body carefully apart from Vel’s, but her body heat radiates. Vel’s hands move to Kleya’s back above her ass. Kleya tilts her head and puts a hand on Vel’s neck very lightly, her fingers pushing Vel’s head slightly with just a little pressure. If this is Kleya without any practice, Vel’s probably in trouble.
They break apart and Vel can feel it on her mouth still; she looks up to Kleya, whose eyes are very dark and full. Two strands of hair are hanging in front of her face. Vel tugs on one of them lightly.
“I love when your hair is like this.” She’s always wanted to tell Kleya that.
Kleya closes her eyes. “I feel nearly naked when I don’t have it up.”
“I know,” Vel says, unable to keep a rasp out of her voice. Kleya is still fully clothed. Vel takes her own bra off, just to see what she’ll do. Kleya opens her eyes and runs her hands down Vel’s arms, looking very seriously at her face. Vel wonders if she should feel insulted.
Kleya kisses her again, quick and close-mouthed, then takes her own shirt off. She isn’t wearing any underclothes, Vel wants to put her mouth on her nipples, brown and pebbled in the not yet warm room, Vel says, “Come on. Come to bed?”
Kleya stands there for a moment with her hands gently resting on Vel’s shoulders, then she tips them back into Vel’s bunk. It’s darker there, and warmer— the alcove that encases the bed structure is made of metal and retains some of the heat of their bodies. Vel hasn’t had someone in her bed in so long, it shocks her to feel Kleya’s breasts against hers, to have Kleya’s knee between her legs. It’s Kleya, who used to tell her where to go, who used to infuriate her. Kleya sits back, pushing Vel’s hips into the bed as she does so, and looks down at her. Vel’s hands go again to Kleya’s hips, but besides that she stays very still. Vel can tell Kleya’s nervous by the way she’s having a hard time making eye contact and the blush high on her cheeks. She moves experimentally against Vel, grinding her hips down onto Vel’s. Even with two layers of clothes, the friction feels nice.
Vel opens her mouth to moan in encouragement, and Kleya touches her just below her bottom lip, on her chin, draws her fingers down Vel’s throat, to her chest. Vel’s never had particularly sensitive nipples, but she still cries out in surprise and not a little pain when Kleya twists one of them between her fingers. Kleya releases her at the sound.
Vel laughs, startled, “What was that?”
Kleya blushes furiously. “I like— I— nevermind.” She ducks down and takes the smarting breast into her mouth. Vel moans now without meaning to. Kleya’s mouth is a furnace. She strokes a hand through Kleya’s hair and arches up slightly from the bed. Apology accepted.
Kleya shuffles so she’s lying on top of Vel, and Vel shifts her legs to accommodate her. Kleya rests her chin on her sternum.
“I may ruin this,” she says.
“Do you think so?” Vel says, still stroking a hand through her hair, letting it fall back onto both of their bare skin. “The sex or— ?”
“You’ve been a very good friend,” Kleya says. “Don’t look at me like that. I think we’ve been good at being friends.” Vel has no idea what her face is doing. She would agree with Kleya but she doesn’t usually feel for her friends what she’s begun to feel for Kleya.
“Kleya—” Vel says, not really knowing what she’s going to say, but Kleya looks up at her sharply from where she’s been staring at Vel’s lips. Vel can’t read the look, but it’s very intense.
“Not now,” Kleya says. “You’re leaving.”
“I thought that was the point of this. That I was leaving.”
“I don’t know. Yes, but for my sanity I can’t have a conversation about it,” Kleya says, and bites at Vel’s breast, the one she hadn’t already abused.
“What is wrong with you,” Vel says, although she likes it better than the pinching, Kleya’s teeth.
“I’m ruining it,” Kleya says sternly, although her lips are wet and her hair is spilling onto Vel’s chest, “so you don’t think on me fondly.”
Vel smiles at her. “Too late.” She puts her arms around Kleya then, and draws her close as they can be.
Kleya takes the opportunity to kiss Vel’s neck right below her chin. It feels dangerous, and more intimate than Vel knows what to do with. She gets very still again. Then Kleya’s teeth pinch at her skin, and Vel surges into motion, grinding her body up into Kleya’s. Kleya’s mouth opens against Vel’s throat. Vel heaves them upright, Kleya in her lap. They kiss for a while longer, when they break apart Kleya is flushed down to her collar and Vel suspects she looks much the same. Operating off the very small amount of information Kleya’s given her so far, she squeezes Kleya’s tits roughly, twisting at the nipples while looking at her, checking her face for any signs of discomfort. Kleya’s mouth is open and she makes unbroken eye contact with Vel as if goading her, which works since Vel twists harder and Kleya moans on a shaky exhale, squirming on Vel’s lap.
“Kark me,” Vel says, completely out of her head, and Kleya takes one of Vel’s hands off of her breast to shove them down her pants.
It’s cramped, but it works. Vel encounters a thatch of wiry damp hair, and then Kleya hot and wet where Vel’s thumb splits her at the top of her cunt. Kleya’s head drops to her shoulder as she starts to make little circles around her clit.
“That feels good,” Kleya says, into Vel’s ear. “A bit higher, please.”
Vel obeys. She gets Kleya to come that way, then they both strip out of pants and Vel opens Kleya up with two fingers for another. Kleya is mostly quiet, but she shakes all over when she comes, tremors that last an absurdly long time by Vel’s count. Vel takes it all in, a mole on her upper thigh that she licks, the way she looks with her eyes closed, unguarded. It’s as if she’s a completely different woman than she was when she worked at the shop. And this is true. They both are.
The air in the bunk is humid when Kleya gets up on her knees, come shining on her thighs and the sweat on her face making a halo of her hair, her face still serious. Vel is in so much trouble, lying in the wet spot with her legs shaky.
“I want to try something,” Kleya says.
“Yeah?” Vel asks. Kleya lifts one of Vel’s legs carefully so her foot is on Kleya’s shoulder and positions herself so their legs slot together. Vel swallows hard, the look of determination on Kleya’s face is perhaps the hottest thing about her, and she’s got her cunt pressed right into Vel’s.
“How’d you figure this?” Vel says as Kleya begins to rock an easy rhythm.
“Saw it in a holo,” Kleya says, the space between her eyes furrowed.
Vel reaches up to Kleya's face, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Miss Marki,” she says, fake scandalized.
Kleya grinds down in a circle and Vel stops smiling, her hands going to Kleya’s hips and grabbing there tightly. “Shit,” she says, and Kleya looks down at her with her dark eyes and her mouth parted.
She comes very quickly after that, moving into Kleya without care for how desperate she looks. Kleya rides her out, then covers Vel’s body in hers, searching for a kiss, which Vel gives her. They lie there for a while, Kleya’s head on Vel’s chest. Vel runs a hand through Kleya’s hair, working out a knot.
“I’m going to give you a special comm,” Kleya says after a long and pleasant silence, “for you to bring with you. Don’t abuse it, but it’s loaded with my personal comm.”
“Encrypted?”
Kleya makes a deeply insulted sound, but doesn’t move her head at all.
“Sorry,” Vel says, unable to keep the smile out of her voice, she smooths her hand down the back of Kleya’s neck and presses a kiss into her hair. “Thank you. For— well, thank you.”
Kleya says, “You should be getting ready.”
“Just a moment,” Vel says. She’s warm for the very first time since they arrived in this deep and endless winter. She wants to savor it.
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