"Your thoughts are loud, Master (y/l/n)." Skywalker said, entering the room. I was engrossed in a very intriguing article about the architectural style of Isoria, and how the Royal Palace had several nooks and crannies, which, if used to their full advantage, could be used to efficiently combat assailants and assassination attempts on the royals' lives. It would appear, that, several generations ago, in a similar scenario as to what was going on now, these little hideouts had been completely neglected, and the criminals, who has originally come posing as palace cleaners, found out about them and completely turned it all around. It was only the efficiency and loyalty of the palace Guard that had saved the Isorian Royal Palace from a massacre.
"Hm?" I mumbled, too distracted to look up.
"Sweetie, I could hear you in the shower."
Wait, what?
"W-wh-what?" I asked, looking up, and realizing exactly how he'd come into the room.
He'd neglected to put on a shirt, but had thrown a towel around his neck, his hair was dripping wet, and renegade droplets ran down his face and torso, exactly what I thought about when I came to left his change of clothes.
Mercifully, he'd turned around, so all I could see was his back, and a fleeting glance before I squealed and covering my face,
Uh-oh. I'd forgotten to leave my shields up in the bathroom, which meant he'd heard my subconscious little thought-fest .
My face flamed red, and I threw one of the towels that the cleaner droid had left, in case we had another... incident.
"Ew, gross! Put a shirt, or something on, for decency's sake!" I groaned.
"Decency is not lusting about my shirtless and soaking wet appearance, sugar cube ." he teased.
"That- was-" I began, my throat closing up from mere embarassment, "subconscious."
"Sure thing, sunshine." he winked. "And, after all, I only owe you this, the same way you did."
"I. Am. Going. To. Strangle. You." I whispered, drowning in pure humiliation.
"Feel free." Skywalker said nonchalantly, which was followed by rustling, which I assumed was him actually being a decent, functional member of society and putting on the robes I had left for him. "You can look now, but, I have a question for you."
"What." I asked, unenthusiastically.
"Why were you so nice? I mean, it's no secret you really don't like me. I can understand why you'd dunk me in choco milk. But why go the extra mile, help me to the bathroom, and even offer to get me a change of clothes?" he asked, looking at himself in the mirror and doing what I could only describe as fluffing his hair.
"FIrst of all, Skywalker, you loom like something that comes out of a sewer, so please, don't admire yourself in the mirror, it's kind of nauseating. Second, wet hair is always less voluminous as the individual strands of hair stick together due to the presence of a liquid, and you're no exception, so if you want to fluff your hair like a girl, wait till it's dry, smartass. And to answer your question, it's..." I trailed off, unsure of how to respond.
"Wow, genius. And, oh, don't you worry that pretty little head of yours, Princess, I can wait, we're in no hurry. Any decade now." he teased mercilessly. My cheeks flamed scarlet.
"Shut up, Shitwalker. I guess I helped because... I felt... guilty."
"You... felt guilty for causing me pain?"
"After all, I am a Jedi. Compassion is central to a Jedi's life, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"I do have a guilty conscious. Besides, I know all too well what it's like to be soaked in choco milk. The sticky kind."
"Really? You do? Who dared drench the Ice Queen herself in her favourite drink?" Skywalker asked, interested, with wide eyes.
"Ah, it was a long time ago. I was a teenager, and a nemesis of mine was the one who, um, you know, did the deed. It was horrible. Every was staring at me. It was like a mixture of pity and amusement. I picked my ass up and noped my way to the nearest ladies'. When I came back, everyone was whispering, and when they saw me, the whole cafeteria went deadly silent and I felt like a pariah, or something."
(Yes, i speak from personal experience T_T luckily it fell on my jacket and it was easy to clean but it still sucked pwq. At least the girl who did it ended up having it get me a choco muffin and choco milk so yeah that was... passable.)
"Woah. That's... horrible. What did you do?" he asked, chin in hand.
"What do you think?" I smirked. His eyes lit up.
"Wait... did you..."
"Use your words, Shitswimmer."
"I thought I was Shitwalker."
"I improvised, wisenheimer."
"Ok, fine. But it'll be nicer to hear you say it."
"She hated spice. Any form of spiciness, NO. So I may or may not have poured an entire shaker of ghost pepper into her absolute favourite cranberry juice."
"Savage, girl!" Skywalker grinned, leaning back and opening his arms before bringing them back together for a resoundant clap. I only fluttered my eyelashes, placing two fingers on my jawline in mock elegance.
"Alright, I'm getting tired of the smell of your cheap cologne, so, um, bye." I smiled sarcastically.
"Hey! This is the finest, most expensive musky Bugo Hoss-"
"Skywalker, did I ask?"
"No?"
"Exactly."
"Excuse me, are you Jedi Knights (y/l/n) and Skywalker?" a protocol droid asked, appearing in the doorway.
"Um, yes?" Skywalker replied, sounding confused. Has my narcissistic partner forgotten his own name now?
"Ah, very well. Admiral Amherst has asked me to summon you to the bridge. We have arrived; we're currently orbiting Isoria's exosphere at an altitude of 7000 klicks and at a speed of 10,000 kiloklicks an hour.
**
(A/N)
Alrighty, here's another one! I'll probably update a lot more nowadays to cope with stress, so, yeah! Expect more!
Also, I couldn't find an equivalent, really, so I'm substituting klicks for meters. Please don;t hate me.
Random question - if you could have 30 chickens or 30 eggs, which one would you rather have and why? I'd have 30 eggs because who wants to be saddled with 30 chickens in an apartment in the heart of a city?
Love,
Qui