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Hera was hot, uncomfortable, and exhausted. While the mission had been a success, it had been a miserable three days. Worth it for the lives they’d saved, but with little else to show for it.
Unfortunately, good feelings would not put fuel in the Ghost.
“Kriff, that was certainly a job,” Kanan said with a sigh, standing in the open doorway of the cockpit. He was wiping some of the coat of dust off himself with a damp towel, a second held out to her.
He didn't step into the small space, merely waiting at the hatch and making an offer. Kanan was always considerate of places she treated as hers. This time his presence was too tempting to pass up and she waved him, and the cloth, in.
The soothing fabric felt wonderful against her skin. The situation less so, as she looked down again at the mostly empty metal lockbox.
But Kanan had been essential, she never would have been able to get emergency supplies out to the trapped miners without his help, and it had been several days of heavy labor. She would just need to make sure the next gig was something a little more lucrative, less charitable.
“But we did get paid at least. Here's your cut,” she said, passing him a handful of credits. It was less than the work deserved, but all she could manage if they were going to cover enough fuel to last them to the next job.
She pressed the cloth over her face and relished the delicious feeling. Two days of trekking through abandoned tunnels had left her exhausted.
So exhausted she didn't realize at first that Kanan had apparently decided to start pawing at her box!
“Seriously?” he said with blatant dismay.
Hera snapped the lid closed. “I know it's not much, but we both know they would have died without those supplies dropped in! These independent groups don't have the backing of the conglomerates when things go wrong and it will be a week before they clear the main tunnel. That's all the job paid. If that's not enough of a cut you're welcome to leave at the next spaceport.”
Kanan gave her a bemused grin. “I was half referring to the fact that our badass captain keeps her credits in a box with blurgg stickers on the side and ‘Hera’s Ship Fund’ in marker on it. It's adorable.”
Hera glared. “It was a gift from my uncle,” she said with a huff. She was already embarrassed enough by the lack of funds, she didn't need his judgemental mouth running now. “I started saving for a ship when I was eight years old, he got me this when my credit collection outgrew the first one.”
“That definitely sounds like young Hera,” Kanan replied with a smile, leaning against one of the rear flight seats. “But most of my dismay was at you thinking I’d take a cut when I'm pretty sure we didn't even cover fuel costs for this gig,” he said, the teasing voice shifting to something softer. “Fortunately I have limited expenses these days and can afford to be generous to starving miners. I have a soft spot for the trade after all,” he added with a wink as he flipped open the box and dropped the credits back in.
She grabbed the credits and held them back out to him. “I'm not a charity case. We agreed, you're crew and crew gets paid,” she insisted.
His long arms pulled back to slip his fingers through his belt loops, out of reach of her hands. “Count it towards my rent for the bunk.”
This was ridiculous and Hera was too damn tired to deal with him wanting to be something they weren't. “I'm the Captain and I'm exhausted and I'm not having you work for free!”
He got up and peered into the box. “Fine, Captain,” he said, leaning in to grab something within. It was the notepad of flimsi she kept for making quick tallies of supplies rather than the actual credits.
His voice was dry as he dictated as he wrote, “Hera owes Kanan 2 credits, for physical services provided,” gave her another wink, then brushed past her shoulder to place the piece of scrap flimsi in the box. “There, now it's on the record. You're just holding onto the cash for my own good.”
He was absolutely ridiculous. “Two credits? Really? That's all you think you're worth?” she asked, but as tired as she was she couldn't entirely keep the amusement at his antics out of her voice.
He gave her a wide grin. “What can I say, I’m an absolute bargain.”
. . .
The ship was fueled up, tuned up, and there had even been enough extra money from this last job to cover the various IOU slips Kanan had insisted on making up over the past couple months when some jobs had been important but not exactly lucrative.
The town they were parked in wasn't that big, but there was enough of a population to give him options. She figured he would go burn some credits on cheap booze in one of the bars and she could finally stop feeling so guilty for underpaying him. Kanan clearly had a crush on her and she would not use that inappropriately to save on crew costs! Accepting anything from him would just encourage him, and she couldn't risk anything getting in the way of her mission.
He hadn't been happy at her insistence he take the stack of credits, but she had shoved them into his hands and pushed him off the ship with orders to go be a wastrel for the day and not to come back with that money since he couldn't be trusted not to break into her credit box to put it back.
He was surprisingly stealthy when he wanted to be.
Hera had worried when she first agreed to take him on that it would be uncomfortable to have someone always in her space. But Kanan somehow could fit himself into her routine and life so naturally she hadn't realized until it was suddenly their routine, as if he'd always been with her.
It was downright disconcerting.
The bulkheads sounded the soft echoes of her stride as she walked to the galley to grab a dry ration bar. Kanan had gotten into the habit of cooking most days, making something surprisingly edible from whatever he had scavenged and insisting that ration bars were for emergencies and not daily consumption. After months of that, her stomach was now distinctly less impressed by the stale block.
This was why he was so infuriating! Messing up her perfectly functional routine when she had happily lived off those bars for ages before he showed up! The galley had even started to smell like his food when he wasn't even cooking.
Hera paused and sniffed at the air.
No, that was definitely cooking.
What the kriff? She was not a charity. If she didn't pay him for his work then they were no longer captain and crew and she could not get into that sort of a mess with him!
“I thought I gave strict instructions about not coming back until you actually spent your pay,” Hera said, arms crossing as she reached the galley.
Kanan turned briefly from the pan on the stove, talking over his shoulder with a big grin, “You were clear as transparisteel, Captain.”
There was something different about the galley beyond just the scent she couldn't quite place but it was nagging at her.
“You just like being insubordinate then?”
He turned to face her. “I do actually, it's part of my wastrel charm. Though,” he added, lifting a fork towards her lips, “out of my great respect for you I’ll have you know I did exactly as you asked today. I can prove it!”
She eyed the fork and the man wielding it suspiciously. “Really, you managed to spend two weeks’ pay in an hour and a half and still had time to make dinner?”
A delicious scent wafted from the offered food. “I had to, we both know you would have grabbed a ration bar if I didn't tempt you with better options.” He lifted the fork closer to her pursed lips. “Just see if you like it?” he asked with a smug grin that undercut his placating words.
She should refuse to encourage this, but of course it smelled amazing and her stomach was delighted at the prospect. Hera instinctively opened her mouth as he brought the fork to her lips, closing her eyes under his attentive gaze.
How was everything to do with that man so delicious?
As the flavors and scents combined in her mind she was caught off guard by the familiarity. “Rycrit?”
Of course he had gotten her favorite. He looked so smug she wanted to smack him.
But maybe not until the wretched man finished making dinner.
“You sent me out with orders to spend money. I decided I wanted to stock us properly with better food.” He turned back to dish out a serving into a bowl. “Since I'm the one cooking as a hobby and you provide all the ration bars I can eat it's only fair the ingredients for anything else come from my cut.”
Hera finally realized what was different about her galley. It was full. The small spice rack that had been empty except for salt was now full of different colored bottles and jars, fresh meilooruns were in the usually empty bowl, and based on the way the bottom of the cabinet had sagged the cupboards were packed full.
“I followed your orders exactly,” he said with that infuriating shit-eating grin, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“You scraped by on a technicality while entirely ignoring the intention,” she countered, even as she accepted the offered bowl.
“All part of my roguish charm,” he replied, giving her an exaggerated smolder with a raise of his dark eyebrows.
It was all too much and Hera couldn't hold back a laugh. “You're a pain in my lekku,” she said between bitten back giggles and bites of the far too delicious food.
“I can accept that,” he answered with a self-satisfied grin.
When she checked the box that night she found a new note.
Kanan owes Hera one lekku massage.
That man was a menace. But he did come with at least a few benefits.
. . .
Kanan may be good at tactics, but Hera was a strategist.
After a new hydraulic compressor mysteriously appeared installed in the engine, she had decided it was her turn to play dirty.
Kanan’s excuse was always that he didn't care about getting paid. He had a bunk and food, he didn't need anything more.
Which were big words for a man whose entire wardrobe could fit in a shoulder bag with room to spare.
Twice now when he’d gotten engine fluids on himself she’d found him booking it back from the fresher with nothing to cover his long, lean torso, damp shirt held in his hands to hang up in his cabin. His belt was also heavily worn, the leatheris cracked and warped where it hung over his hips and looking like it might break any day.
Not that she had been looking that closely.
It was his fault for turning the simple paying for his time into this ridiculous game of his!
“Kanan?” she called down the corridor. He responded from the lounge where she found him sitting at the Dejarik table.
“Here,” she said, passing him the bag of clothing.
“I thought we had rules about gifts, Captain?” he asked with mock confusion.
“Don't be ridiculous,” she said with an arch to her brow. “This is an investment to save on water costs. If you can last till laundry day instead of washing everything in the sink I’ll save money in the long run.”
He squinted at her in an attempt to look suspicious, but he couldn't keep the amusement out of his face as the corners of his lips turned up in a grin. “So I'm a long term investment then?”
The man was utterly ridiculous.
Eager hands rifled through the bag, but as he examined the various pieces she had picked for him the teasing grin shifted on his face into something else she couldn't quite place.
“Are they ok?”
“They're...yeah, they're really nice,” his voice caught slightly as he ran his fingers over the dark fabrics.
“I tried to go for colors and styles you seemed to like. I had to guess at the sizes though,” Hera said quickly, unsure of why she was suddenly so nervous.
“They're perfect,” he whispered. There was a short inhaled breath and then he was back to the ridiculous scoundrel he liked to play at, his eyes brightening with the excitement he showed anytime they teased each other. Kanan sat the bag on the table and gave her a grin. “I’ll check the size for you right now.”
Strong hands caught on the fabric of his shirt, swiftly pulling it up his torso and revealing the long muscled planes of his chest.
If Hera licked her lips automatically at the sight it was only because she wanted to be ready to tease him for being absurd.
Any such thoughts vanished at the flash of nervousness Kanan showed as he pulled on the green shirt. “Does it look ok?”
Hera leaned in and ran her fingers over the shoulders and collar, tugging it gently into place.
His eyes caught hers. She was so close to him the brightness of their color, a beautiful mix of blue and green, was utterly captivating.
They stood like that a moment, neither seemingly sure what to say.
Finally she came to her senses and stepped back.
The teasing still tinged his voice now, but in a gentle way that was more soothing than poking, “You know the rules, you have to count this against the IOU stack.”
She gave him a raised eyebrow. “Like you did that compressor?”
He looked up and stroked his goatee as if searching for a memory, “What did someone say, ‘I am not a charity case?’”
“Well, if you’re not comfortable I can take it all back,” she countered, stretching her hand to take the bag.
He gave her a look of fake shock. “Why Hera, are you trying to trick me into taking my shirt off in front of you, again?”
At that line she couldn't hold back her laughter. “We both know I would never be so unprofessional.” She eyed the shirt with a satisfied smile. “Fine, I promise I will adjust the IOUs for this, if you agree to keep properly clothed coming back from the fresher.”
Kanan leaned in closer, eyes brimming with amusement. “I’ll do my best Captain, but you never know exactly how things will go. I like to be prepared for anything.”
Looking through the pieces of flimsi in her box a few minutes later, Hera left the various credit markers as they were, merely adding one more to the pile.
Hera owes Kanan two credits for shirtless entertainment
He wasn't the only one who could play dirty.
. . .
Hera stared at the box. There were countless notes promising debts of favorite snacks, bedtime stories, ship chores, and more that had built up over the last year she and Kanan had spent together.
What wasn't there was nearly enough credits to replace the hyperdrive’s integrated fluid conductor. Which meant they were grounded.
Thanks to Kanan’s cooking obsession at least they wouldn't starve while she came up with a plan.
Not that a plan was looking likely. Hera didn't have anything to work with. They needed an entirely new hyperdrive with nothing remotely of value to trade for it.
She heard Kanan at the cockpit door, hovering in the way he did when he wasn't sure if she wanted company while flying. Instead of streaking stars around her now there was just dark, smokey atmosphere outside the viewport.
“How’s it look?” he asked, his simple, quiet tone making no teasing jokes at her clearly questionable decisions that had led them to this situation.
“Well, we have enough credits to get a couple rides somewhere. Or to keep the lights on for a month or so.” The bitterness in her voice was harsh even to her. “Not looking good.”
She couldn't go to her father. It wasn't like he would help her anyways. Unless it was for a one-way trip back to Ryloth, probably spacing Kanan along the way.
Hera had been a good asset to Fulcrum - maybe she could get a short loan from her mystery sponsor? The contact didn't seem to be terribly worried about money considering the gear dropped off for some of their missions. And since she had picked up Kanan they had accomplished numerous objectives for their benefactor.
The hand that came to rest on her shoulder was warm, the gentle weight offering more comfort than she had been willing to accept in years.
“You’ll figure something out. We always do,” he said softly.
She bit out the words, desperately trying to keep her composure. “We're on a backwater fuel depot with nothing to trade for and no way to earn anything. There's nothing to figure out. We're out of options.”
They stayed there a few moments, staring into the darkness together, his hand a soothing touch against the cool air that surrounded them.
Kanan broke the silence. “Do you trust me?”
Her words spilled out without needing to think, “Of course.”
He leaned over her to grab the small stack of credits from the box. “Count this off my slips, and get the whole hyperdrive unit uninstalled and down to the cargo bay. I have an idea.”
Hera eyed him warily. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“Nope! It's not a guarantee, and also if you knew the plan you'd tell me no,” he said, a quiet look all he sent her way before heading out the cockpit door.
There was no chance he would find anyone willing to barter a working hyperdrive for anything they had on the ship. It was absolutely impossible.
But she still made her way down to the engine room to start disassembling. Not like she had anything better to do with her time.
And Kanan had asked her to.
After four hours of sitting in the open cargo bay getting more and more paranoid, Hera finally heard someone walking towards the Ghost.
Scratch that, several someones.
Looking out at the paved lot she saw Kanan walking, or rather stumbling his way over, two older men stationed on either side of him helping him stay upright.
“Heyo darlin,’” he slurred as they came up the ramp, “I made friends! They're gonna take a look at the hyperdrive!”
One of the two strangers gave her an apologetic look with glassy eyes, only slightly less drunk than Kanan. “We may have gotten your boy a bit soused, but no great harm's done, truly. It’ll all come out for the best.”
The other man had dropped Kanan’s arm and was examining the hyperdrive, stroking his hairless chin and chewing on his weathered lip. “Yup, fluid conductor blew right out, no chance of getting this working again,” he said, voice slow and sounding quite tipsy yet certain of his analysis.
Hera was about to interject that yes, she kriffing knew how a hyperdrive worked, that was why she had said it was unfixable, but Kanan caught her eye and gave a quick wink.
What the kriff sort of game was he playing?
The man looked back to Kanan. “This do us square?”
“Yup, get me and the little lady flying again and we're good,” Kanan drawled happily.
The first man, arm still helping Kanan stay upright, motioned Hera over. “Give us a few minutes and we'll be back,” he said, handing Kanan over to her, Kanan’s arm wrapping gently and carefully around her waist despite the way he reeked of cheap liquor and wobbled.
“We’ll be here,” Kanan replied, sounding every bit the happy drunk as Hera stood motionless and utterly confused.
As the two men shuffled down the ramp towards another freighter parked in the space dock he said, “Miss me, love?” and turned as if to kiss her cheek, but pressed his lips beside her earcone to whisper quietly, “Before you smack me, they're going to swap hyperdrives with us.”
“What the kriff, Kanan?” Hera whispered back, feeling the heat of his flushed skin where his cheek met hers.
Kanan shifted her around in his arms to allow him to speak easier into her earcone, turning her to watch the two men in the distance as she felt the warmth from his chest against her back, his arms cradling her gently. “They're contract pilots for a freight company, there are a lot of them on these routes. They don't own the ships they fly, if they call in a blown hyperdrive they're just out the lost pay until corporate can send a new one out.”
“And they're just giving it to us?” she asked, incredulous and confused.
“Pretty much,” Kanan replied, resting against her, a steady weight that managed to still be comforting despite the scents that wafted from him.
“You smell like the floor of a bar,” she said, poking the sleeve at her stomach that was damp at the cuff.
“I had a very specific part to play which may have included lots of shots,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Don't worry, most of the booze they gave me ended up down my shirt or on the floor.”
“But?” she began to ask, but stopped as she saw one of the men heading back their way. Instead she leaned wearily into the solid form behind her.
Barely an hour later they were back in the sky, the two half-drunk pilots having even helped them install the functioning drive before sending them on their way.
Hera had told Kanan to shower and change while she got them moving towards their next job.
His feet were mostly silent on the deck as he came to sit in the co-pilot’s chair next to her. He stuck his hands in his pocket and pulled out half the credits he had left with and held them out. “You’ll have to figure out how many IOUs to add back to the stack for these, I lost track of what we were at a while ago.”
She looked at him but made no move to take the credits. “What happened?”
He leaned back into the chair, shifting under her look. “Tale as old as time. Young man gets a bit buzzed at the bar, bragging about a lucrative job he just pulled and money to burn in his pocket. A couple guys encourage him to join them for some friendly games and drinks, and somehow someone ends up owing a much bigger stack of credits than they have and trades get made. And we get a hyperdrive.” He opened the box’s lid and tossed the credits in amongst the scattered scraps of flimsi.
Hera’s voice was quiet. “How did you know it would work?”
Kanan shrugged, clearly trying to look casual. “Most of the ships parked back there were marked by shipping companies. The advantage to having a scoundrel on your crew is I have extensive experience in a wide range of scams and cons. You should see me with a shell game,” he bragged, giving her an exaggerated grin.
“That's not what I mean and you know it,” she said softly.
He looked down, cheeks flushing. “What can I say, I've always been lucky with dice.”
“Kanan, you always said that was too risky! The Empire -”
He cut her off with a soft tap of his knuckle to her chin. “It's fine.” The blue of his eyes was even richer under the soft light of hyperspace. “Some things are worth the risk.”
She stared at him, looking over every line of his face.
His expression seemed almost fragile as he looked at her. “I did lose half the credits to make it not too obvious, but I got us a hyperdrive. Where does that leave us for the IOUs? I feel like I definitely still came out ahead,” he asked, sounding more breathless than his usual teasing.
Hera stood up, her lips curling into a slight grin. “I have an idea.” She sat down on his lap, enjoying the look of panic warring with hope in his eyes, wrapped her arms slowly around his neck, and lightly pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was sweet and gentle and perfect, his arms wrapping around her as she let herself relax into the delicious feel of him. But it lasted only a moment before Kanan pulled his head back. “Hera, l...I’m not...I just mean,” he stammered, searching frantically for words. “You don't owe me anything, you never have. Being here, traveling with you...it’s already better than anything I could have hoped for. You don't have to change anything if you don't want to,” he whispered, the desperation with which he held her to him betraying his hopes and desire.
“A surprisingly wise man once told me, some things are worth the risk,” she murmured, then met his lips again.
Numerous things were given to each other that night, but neither felt the need to stop to take notes.
. . .
Hera woke slowly, warm and comfortable in Kanan’s arms despite how exhausting the past few days had been. Even with his ridiculously long limbs, he always managed to fit perfectly in her bunk. Had she known what a good pillow he made she might have started sleeping with him far sooner.
The job yesterday had taken ages, and by the time they made it back to the ship they hadn't even bothered to fully undress before climbing into bed together. His chest was still covered by one of the undershirts she had picked up for him, except for where her hands had pulled it up in the night to find the comfort of his skin.
She let her eyes roam over his body. Hands lightly calloused and scarred from doing maintenance and random jobs she dragged him into, the dusting of hairs on his arms that tickled when she brushed against him and made her laugh, broad shoulders that carried so much.
Bringing Kanan on board had definitely been a smart call for more than just his abilities with a wrench.
Hera let her gaze wander up to his face, his teal blue eyes...
Kriff.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked, trying to sound more suspicious and less embarrassed.
Kanan’s lips had already been in a smug grin from catching her admiring him, but now they opened to share the most adorable smile. “Who am I to stop you from staring, sweetheart? I think I've made it pretty clear you're welcome to admire any part of me you want,” he drawled suggestively.
Hera gave him a sweet, innocent look. “I can admire anything of yours?”
“Of course, you know as devoted crew I wouldn't deny anything to my Captain,” he teased.
“Perfect,” she said with a laugh, “then I want to admire your flatcakes.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don't suppose that's a less than flattering euphemism for my ass?”
“No,” she replied, a slight giggle escaping her lips as she spoke, “but I promise to leer appreciatively at it if you make breakfast while I sort out the pay for that gig.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“No breakfast?” Hera asked, blinking at him in confusion.
“No, yes to breakfast, because without me you would die of scurvy,” Kanan said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “No to you sorting out the pay. We're low on coolant and the way prices have been we're gonna be tight unless we find a friendly supplier.”
At her expression of exasperation he added, “You can try to pay me, but I will start leaving credits on your dresser in the most infuriating ways possible.”
“Seriously?” Hera attempted to look firm but it was much harder to achieve with her hand still splayed across his distractingly attractive abs.
“Of course, I’m great at being infuriating,” he said with a smirk.
“Kanan,” she began, but he cut her off, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her to lay on his chest.
“I have absolutely everything I could possibly need already, right here,” he said softly, punctuating it with a kiss to her head between her lekku.
Hera sighed. The truth was likely the only reason he would accept from her. He was frustratingly perceptive. She looked up to meet his eyes. “I feel guilty,” she admitted, “like I'm taking advantage of you.”
“You are far and away the best thing to ever happen to me. Never doubt that.” His arms gave her a gentle squeeze as he pressed a comforting kiss to her cheek. “How about this, I’ll make breakfast while you dream up a new IOU to add to the stack. If it's something I actually need and don't already have then I’ll accept it.” He put on his best smarmy grin. “I’m just that generous.”
“You're an ass,” she grumbled, her own lips turning up to match his smile.
“You love it,” he said with a wink.
Once dressed, Hera did take the opportunity to briefly admire the view as Kanan meandered towards the galley. Well fitted pants had definitely been a worthwhile investment on her part.
Looking through the various slips of flimsi for ideas, she couldn't help the soft smile that came to her face. Technically she had received a lekku massage from him on more than one occasion, and quite a few of the other trades for chores should cancel each other out, but she could never bring herself to throw away these little records of their time together.
Hera owes Kanan two credits
The messily scrawled aurebesh of their first IOU brought her back to that first fight. She had been so worried about keeping those walls up between them, insisting he was merely crew, nothing more.
In theory, he still was.
Their dynamic may have shifted dramatically but they had carefully avoided ever speaking of whatever they were now. He held her as she slept and kissed her good morning and spent his days following her through jobs and missions in the messiest, most dangerous parts of the galaxy. And all he seemed to want in return, even from the start, was a space by her side.
Though his presence during the nights certainly had some benefits for both of them beyond saving on cabin heating.
Kanan had been wrong this morning, she realized. There was something he still needed. He never said it, he was so careful to never push for more than she offered, but his eyes had made it clear since the first time they met, when he had excitedly offered to do whatever jobs she might need.
She grabbed the stylus with a smile.
The fact that it would knock that smirk off his face was just a bonus.
The sweet smell of warm flatcakes wafted through the air as Hera reached the ship’s galley. Kanan was facing the cooktop as he called over his shoulder, “Breakfast is not even done yet. You admitting defeat already?”
“I wrote down something for the box that I am absolutely positive you will like, and definitely is needed,” she said, unable to keep the smugness from her voice.
He looked her over with a raised eyebrow. “If you offer to buy me sleep clothes I will point out I have zero use for them now.”
“Just take a look,” she laughed.
Kanan turned to look at the closed cash box she had set on the counter before giving her a teasing leer. “Are you giving me permission to slip my fingers into your box, Captain?”
She rolled her eyes at the exasperating man. “No. Sometimes it's what's outside that counts. Look at it properly.”
Kanan examined the credit box he must have seen a hundred times before, eyes skimming over the scrapes, stickers, and dings in the metal. Suddenly he froze, and she knew he had finally seen it.
Fresh paint adding the words “Kanan &” above the faded “Hera’s Ship Fund.”
“We might as well just keep all our credits together, since we're partners,” she said softly.
Kanan quickly crossed the small galley and wrapped her tightly in a warm hug, burying his face in her flight cap.
“So you like it?” she asked, wrapping her arms around him and resting her hands on his belt.
He laughed softly, his chest shaking slightly against hers with emotion. “I should know better than to challenge you at anything. I love it, well played.”
Kanan pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll always have your back, I promise.”
In for a credit, in for a dozen.
“I know. It's one of the things I love about you,” she whispered, cheeks flushing at the admission.
The yelp of delight Kanan gave was adorable, then his lips were on hers despite her giggles and his own frantically repeated, “I love you, I love you,” murmured against her mouth.
They stayed in that embrace, lost in each other, trading touches and promises and smiles. Nothing in the galaxy, not even burning flatcakes, would ever be able to separate them.