Chapter Text
The first time Cody does it, he’s actually half-serious. He knows he’s being a little over-the top, but there is a part of him that is genuinely concerned there’s something defective wrong with his brother.
Later, of course, he only does it because he’s a troll and, as Fox would say, an incorrigible, incurable shebs.
But now, only two months into the war – well, two for everyone else, barely a week for Cody, trapped as he’s been on Kamino since before Geonosis – Cody’s on a group call with most of his batchmates, listening to Bly wax karking poetic about his general.
“…and she’s just so graceful while she fights, you know? And her thighs! Vod’e, I could die happy between those thighs. She could crush my skull with them and I would thank her.” Bly legitimately swoons when he says this. It’s disgusting, in Cody’s professional opinion.
This has been going on for nearly twenty minutes.
“Bly, vod,” Ponds finally interrupts. “We get it. You’re gone on your general. However, I ask that, if you are truly that desperate to get laid, you do it in a fashion that won’t get you court-martialed.”
Bly looks indignant, but Wolffe just snorts. “Only people get court-martialed, Pondsie,” he reminds them all. As if they needed reminding. “Lusting after your general is a one-way ticket to decomm, Bly.”
“Aayla would never!” Bly says heatedly, and small gods, he’s using her first name? Is he stupid? “Besides,” Bly continues, going dreamy-eyed again, “the decomm would be worth it.”
So, yes. Yes, he is stupid.
“Bly,” Cody butts in, startling the other three. In their defense, he’s been silent for nearly half an hour now. In his, only the weak forget that their most obnoxious batchmate is waiting in the wings. “Quick question: what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Bly gapes like a fish while Ponds and Wolffe cackle maliciously. Cody takes the moment of opportunity to send a quick text-comm to Bly’s CMO.
>> CMC-2224: please check your commander for brain damage at the earliest opportunity. he is acting even stupider than usual.
>> CTM-03-2630: you got it, alor.
He tunes back in to hear Bly swearing viciously that, “You’ll understand one day, Kote, and you’ll be eating your karking words, you shebs."
"Unlikely,” Cody says flatly, and changes the subject. “Do any of you know what I did to piss off 17? Kenobi has to be a punishment for something.” Wolffe opens his mouth, but Cody cuts him off. “Other than exist.”
A few hours later, Cody gets an all clear comm from CMO Hepburn that just reads, nothing on the atomic scan, sir, think it must be chronic. Cody snorts and sends him a quick thanks. He ignores the ensuing comm from Bly demanding to know what the kriff Cody’d told Hepburn that necessitated a brain scan.
It may be stupid, but Cody had actually been worried. It’s his prerogative, both as youngest batcher and as Vod’alor, to ensure that Bly stays on task when the task is the actual karking war.
Cody is aware that he’s a lot more…practical, for lack of a better word, than his brothers. As cadets, when puberty hit, all his batchmates spent nearly a year thinking more with their dicks than with their brains, and Cody felt like he was going insane. For one thing, he found sex conceptually disgusting – it seemed so messy and sticky and just deeply unpleasant – and for another, he literally did not understand where the rest of his generation was finding the karking time to care so much about fucking. The only one who seemed to be on Cody’s side was Alpha-17, but Wolffe insisted that was because Seventeen got off on being evil to everyone around him. This was, unfortunately, entirely plausible, so Cody elected to never think about it.
When the war finally started and the Vod’e were deployed, Cody figured that his brothers would at last be too busy to be idiots about sex. He should have known better.
It’s partially the novelty, he knows, of meeting so many natborns, so many people who weren’t vod’e or their tormenters. It’s especially exciting for brothers like Bly, who’ve never been particularly interested in men, let alone other vod’e. It’s been a bit like watching a subsection of vod’e go through puberty all over again, the way some of them have gotten stupid about women, and it makes Cody tired. He at least thought his batchers were mature enough to resist the siren song of their own horniness, but alas.
Bly is more emotive than most of the batch, more prone to dramatics, but he’s always been smart about it. If his decision-making is off at all, Cody wants to be sure to catch it early. Only one recon per batch, them’s the rules, and the war cannot afford for a full batch of CC’s to be pulled from the front line for decommissioning. Cody vows to keep a close eye on Bly’s antics going forward.