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When his superiors told him to take a short vacation, Kallus wanted to scream.
Instead of sulking in his room on the cruiser for the next couple of days, Kallus decided to hitch a ride with an outgoing patrol of troopers to some Outer Rim planet he didn't bother to catch the name of.
Lately the cruiser's empty corridors and cold atmosphere had started to become... suffocating. It had never bothered Kallus before; he appreciated the Empire's efficient procedures and regulations. But after his return from the Geonosis' moon, Kallus' view on the Empire's dealings had shifted.
It didn't help that the Empire never even came for him while he was stranded. He had gotten lucky and some nearby trader picked up the distress signal.
And when he finally returned he was greeted with neutral faces and emotionless medical droids and more piles of reports and paperwork to fill out. No one was happy to see him. No one cared he was missing.
They only cared when he started to make questionable inquiries and searches into what exactly happened to the local Geonosians.
Any information he found simply stated the planet was sterilized for security reasons, said reasons never listed. Anything else required a higher clearance level to access.
Apparently, whatever did happen on Geonosis was big, because not even a day into searching he was called before his superiors yet again to explain his actions. But this time, instead of reprimands for his failures and threats to do better he was simply told to– take a few days off.
Kallus knew what was really happening though. He was being pushed to the side while his every action and motive was being investigated.
It left Kallus... disheartened with the cause.
And the last thing he needed was a couple of days off to stew in his questions and doubts.
But that was exactly what he was doing.
Sitting in some rundown diner on some backwater planet questioning what he once thought was unquestionable.
And the food here sucked.
The wall's paint was chipping with large patches of durasteel peeking out from underneath. Most of the lights were busted and one behind the counter kept flickering at random intervals. Some of the tables and chairs were mismatched, and most of the booths that lined the walls looked like they'd been used as scratching posts. The opposing seat of Kallus' own booth had tiny splotches of disconcerting stains that were, more than likely, someone's blood.
Besides the WA-7 unit stationed behind the counter, and whoever was in the kitchen, Kallus was the only one in the diner. Not surprising with the quality of services and food he'd experience so far.
He had been sitting in his booth for more than an hour, his food only half-eaten, trying to figure out what exactly he should do next.
Borrow a tie back to the ship, suck up his misgivings, and spend the rest of his days off trying to get back in his superiors' good graces? Or spend the rest of his probably unpaid-leave on some backwater planet until he was eventually called back to get reprimanded. Again.
Kallus pushed back his plate. He'd already paid for the meal and was mostly here for the refills of caf at this point. He should probably just head back to the hangar already.
He had just started to gather himself to leave when the diner's doors swished open, filtering in the now entering groups voices. Voices that were very familiar to Agent Kallus.
"You just had to pick the cheapest looking grease joint in town."
"Unless you want to pay for lunch Sabine, this is all we got."
Kallus stilled in his seat, trying very hard not to whip around and stare. There was no point in confirming what he already knew and outing himself to the entire group of Rebels now sitting behind him.
"You're not even paying for it, please Hera, let’s go somewhere else."
"Kanan's right Sabine, unless you have the credits for better quality, we're eating here."
Kallus cursed his luck and his superior officers as he very slowly slouched over in his seat. He might as well curse the Rebels too. It was all their fault anyways.
The tables they'd taken were right by the door, so he couldn't slip out the front. And he'd probably cause a ruckus trying go through the employees only door. He couldn't even radio in help without being overheard. He was stuck. Until the Rebels left or spotted him one.
Kallus was pretty sure he was going to get a crick in his back from staying hunched over for so long. There wasn't much else he could do. So far it was working though, none of he Rebels had seen him.
There was a close call when the padawan tried to go to the bathroom, but the Mandalorian girl warned him off. For good reason. Kallus didn't even want to imagine the nightmarish state the bathrooms were probably in. If he managed to get out of this diner alive, he was definitely calling some health inspectors.
He ended up spending another thirty minutes in the diner listening to the groups mundane chatter before the Rebels paid their bill and started to depart.
"I'm probably going to get sick after this," the Mandalorian complained heading towards the door.
"It wasn't that bad."
Kallus snorted at the Jedi's comment, and then panicked a little when he realized he made a sound.
"It was pretty bad Kanan," Bridger continued.
"Fine. Next time you two can eat nutrition bars on the ship while the rest of us go out."
The two groaned before stepping outside, the rest of the Rebels following close behind.
"Hey Kanan, I'll catch up with you guys later. I'm gonna go explore for a bit. Stretch my legs and all."
"Alright, don't get into any trouble okay? Hera's still a little peeved about last time."
Kallus let out a small breath of relief as the diner's doors finally swished shut. Now to wait a couple a minutes for the Rebels to disperse and then hightail it back to the hangar before–
"Didn't think I'd see you here of all places Agent Kallus."
Kallus let out a small 'oof' as he was shoved against the booth's walls to make room for the Lasat now sitting at his side.
"What are you doing," Kallus hissed ducking down even lower, practically sliding under the table. Great, he was almost in the clear and now, right at the end, he gets captured.
Zeb laughed and grabbed the back of his jacket, hauling Kallus upright in his seat. "Don't worry Agent. Just you and me here right now. Unless you're hiding some troopers in the kitchens."
Kallus swatted the Lasat's paws away, not liking the not entirely unpleasant feeling he got from the other's fur touching the nape of his neck. "I assure you, the only things in that kitchen are health hazards."
Zeb chuckled, but he still didn't look entirely convinced.
"I'm on vacation," Kallus added.
"Didn't think you guys got vacations. Since you seem to always be on our tails."
"We don't," Kallus admitted reluctantly, "usually."
"Oh.."
Kallus just nodded, one of his hands starting to nervously tap on the table.
"So what," Zeb carried on, "you're spending your time off in crummy diners? Got any other plans?"
"That's honestly none of your business."
"Ah come on Agent," Zeb drawled out, wrapping his arm around Kallus' shoulders. "I thought we had an understanding."
This time Kallus couldn't bat the Lasat off him. "The only thing I understand right now," Kallus said trying to shake the all too warm appendage off, "is that you're an insufferable oaf who refuses to leave me alone."
"Do you want to be alone?"
Kallus started at the sudden question, glancing up to see Zeb's equally serious look.
He felt his face start to heat up.
"I– t-that's– What do you want?"
Zeb stared at the agent and Kallus found himself starting to fidget under the other's intense gaze.
"Want to go get some drinks?" Zeb asked instead, ignoring the agent's question.
Kallus blinked at the sudden subject change. An evasive question for an evasive question, well he couldn't blame him.
Zeb stood up from the booth and turned expectedly towards Kallus. "Well?"
Kallus glanced from Zeb to the door, unsure of the other's intentions. It could very well be a trap. And the last time he went out to drink was with Minister Tu–
...
"Fine," Kallus said, pulling himself out of the booth. "Lead the way Rebel."
The place the Lasat brought him too wasn't too far away from the hangar, Kallus noted somewhat relieved. It also looked in better condition than the building they had just left, still seedy but not as decrepit.
It was also more crowded than the diner, all kinds of patrons huddling over tables and eyeing the two as they moved over to the bar. Kallus silently thanked the maker he decided to dress down before leaving the ship, because he was pretty sure if he still looked like an Imperial he would be gutted by now.
They took some empty stools at the end of the bar and Zeb flagged down the Besalisk bartender. After he ordered the drinks, Zeb started talking. Since Kallus had so far made no attempts at conversation.
"I used to go out drinking with Kanan all the time, but after Ezra showed up he stopped. He's trying to set a better example I guess... Or he doesn't have as much reason to drink anymore."
Kallus nodded along.
"Hera's not much of a drinker, can't be when she's gotta stay sober on the chance we have to make a sudden departure."
Kallus tried to look apologetic.
"I went drinking with Rex once. Old bastard drank me right under the table and out of 20 creds. Never again."
It was while the Lasat was talking that Kallus had a brief moment of clarity where he realized he was sitting in a bar with one of the Rebels he had been hunting for the past year. If he was caught he would probably get charged with treason, or worse. But strangely, Kallus didn't feel that panicked over it.
Before he could think more on his sudden mid-life crisis, the bartender returned with their drinks. Zeb nodded thanks then grabbed at one of the six glasses he had ordered.
"Try this," Zeb said pushing a shot of brown creamish looking liquid into his hands.
Kallus inspected the glass warily, but after Zeb tipped back his own shot, Kallus mimicked his actions.
Only to gag and start coughing as the burning, vile substance slid down his throat. "What is this?" he managed to gasp out between violent coughs.
"It’s called a Jedi Mind Trick."
Kallus wiped his mouth, sending an incredulous look over to the grinning Lasat. "You're kidding."
Zeb grinned wider, then, disgustingly downed another whole shot of the disarming liquid. "Nope," he said slamming the empty glass to the counter, letting out a large satisfied sigh.
"It’s horrendous."
"It’s the best way to get slagged fast out in the Outer Rim."
Kallus eyed one of the three remaining glasses. Then suddenly grabbed another shot and tipped it back fast, trying not to breathe or let the alcohol touch his tongue.
"Ha-hah! That's the spirit!"
"That is by far one of the nastiest beverages I have ever had the misfortune of tasting." Kallus coughed. "Get us another round."
Zeb let out a whoop, quickly signaling to the bartender for more drinks. "You sure you can hold your liquor Agent?" he asked picking up one of the two remaining shots.
Kallus met Zeb's challenging smirk by lifting his own glass. "You'd be surprised at what all they'd get up to in the Academy."
Zeb's grin was all teeth.
"Why don't you show me then?"
Both glasses were empty by the time the Bartender returned with their next round.
It was after his eighth drink, or was it ninth?, that Kallus realized he should probably stop drinking.
He wasn't exactly "slagged" but he was well past tipsy. His movements were more sluggish and he couldn't stop staring at the Lasat's mouth.
He'd slowly shifted from focusing on the Zeb's exaggerated tale of wrestling a joopa to focusing instead on his lips. And his tongue whenever it flicked out over the glass, as he downed a shot. And his fangs as they occasionally caught on skin whenever the Lasat got too excited about whatever he was talking about.
How long had he been staring again?
Zeb suddenly licked his lips and Kallus had to swallow, his own mouth suddenly very dry.
Definitely should stop drinking.
"–of here."
"I'm sorry what?" Kallus mentally shook himself and tried to catch what the Lasat was actually saying.
"I said," Zeb started again, giving away no hint on whether he knew how distracted the other was or not, "do you wanna leave? It's pretty late already, and if we drink anymore we probably won't be getting back to our ships before sunrise."
Kallus suddenly realized how empty the bar actually was. What time was it?
"Uh, yes. Sure."
"Come on then," Zeb said. He stood and tossed some creds at the bartender, grabbing Kallus by the arm and leading him out the front door.
It was night outside, the bar's neon sign one of the only sources of light out.
"I'm guessing your ships at the hangar?" Zeb asked already walking that direction.
"Of course," Kallus said following beside him, "... is yours?"
"Even if it was, why would I tell you?"
Kallus flinched. Zeb looked away guiltily.
"Look I didn't mean–"
"No need," Kallus interrupted. "You're right. At the end of the day you're still a Rebel and I'm still an Imperial."
Zeb sighed, rubbing the back of his head.
They walked a few more minutes in silence before Kallus worked up the courage to speak again.
"You know," he started looking away from the Lasat, "sometimes I wish things were a bit different. That the Empire was a bit different." Kallus wasn't sure if the liquor was loosening his tongue or if he just really wanted Zeb to know. Maybe it was both.
"I wish we could have been friends Zeb."
Kallus finally looked back at the Lasat, who was staring back with a unreadable expression.
"I can go the rest of the way by myself." Kallus said quickly, backing away into a side alley that led straight to the hangar. "Thank you for inviting me on this excursion Garazeb." He turned and resisted the urge to run away from the awkward situation he created.
Kallus only got so far before he was slammed into the alley's durasteel walls.
He quickly went on the defensive, bracing for the next attack. But then lips were on his and all thoughts of retaliation were soon gone along with coherent thought.
Kallus stood in shock for only a moment before slipping his hands around Zeb's back and neck, while the Lasat's hands moved down his sides.
After a very long moment of lip lock and tongue battle, both pulled away for air.
After his lungs had stopped burning, Kallus was finally able to speak again. "That was... unexpected."
"But was it," for the first time that day, Zeb looked nervous, "okay?"
Instead of answering, Kallus pulled himself back up into the Lasat's face.
The next few minutes were spent with the two furiously kissing between short breaths.
Zeb moved his hands slowly up and down Kallus' sides and around his chest, loosening buttons and briefly touching skin where the agent's jacket and shirt rode up.
Kallus kept his arms wrapped around Zeb's neck, pulling the taller Lasat down for better access. Occasionally he let one of his hands run through the fur of Zeb's head, the Lasat's grip on his sides tightening whenever his fingers brushed against the other's ears.
When Kallus finally gained enough intelligible thought to purposely scratch behind one he was jerked back off the wall then pushed higher onto it, Zeb growling as he pulled Kallus' thighs into the air.
He didn't object to his new position, now he didn't have to crane his head to meet the Lasat's kisses anymore.
Kallus hooked his legs around Zeb and meshed their bodies closer.
And then there was friction and Kallus saw stars.
Zeb hissed as the agent started to grind their bodies together, appreciably biting at the other's lips. Then he started to mimic Kallus' movements.
Kallus had to bite down a moan that started to build in his throat.
Both their movements grew more desperate and aggressive until Kallus felt like he was going to drown.
Then there was a crackle of static.
"Hey Zeb, you there?"
"Karabast!"
Zeb dropped one of the agent's legs and grabbed the radio from his belt, Kallus staring at him dazed.
"I'm a little busy right now Kanan." Zeb managed to grit out.
"Whatever it is has to wait Zeb. Hera spotted some Empire ships in the area. We're blowing dodge before they notice us."
This time Zeb said a word a bit more explicit than Karabast.
"Okay Kanan, meet you back at the ship." He hung up the radio and looked back at Kallus. "So I've gotta go."
Kallus was still a bit in shock.
"But don't think this is like, a onetime thing alright."
Kallus nodded numbly, then with a bit more emotion, "not on your life Orrelios."
Zeb grinned. "Good."
He then turned and ran in the complete opposite direction of the hanger, confirming Kallus' earlier thought on the Rebels landing outside of town. Not that he would do anything with that information. Or with any of the information he gained today.
It was only after Zeb had been gone for five minutes that Kallus slid down to the ground, what had just happened finally registering.
Well this brought a whole new meaning to fraternizing with the enemy.
Kallus buried his head into his hands groaning.
"Karabast."