Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Fives skids to a stop in front of his tent, kicking up sand and gravel in his wake, Rex knows immediately that something has happened. Something that he’ll most likely spend the afternoon trying to sort out.

“Report,” Rex says, immediately discarding his rations and picking up his bucket.

Fives gasps for breath, shaking his head wordlessly. Rex opens his mouth to chew him out for being so winded after a short run—in the field, ARC troopers are expected to run until they’re wounded, and then keep going—but when he gets close to Fives, he catches the sharp, unmistakable scent of alpha hormones. It covers Fives, like a fine coating of dust.

Rex shoves his bucket on. The filtration system should keep the hormones from muddling his brain too much.

“Fives.” Rex shifts from his Captain-voice to his Alpha-voice, in order to cut through the fog of Fives’s hormone-drunk brain. “Who is it?”

“General Skywalker,” Fives manages.

Rex barely resists cursing. “Where?”

“Training grounds.”

Rex takes off at a sprint, making a beeline for the training grounds. It’s not uncommon for General Skywalker to get stirred up by alpha hormones, especially when violence is added into the mix. But Rex has seen him sparr with the troops. He’s never too rough, never gets angry at any trash talking—in fact, he relishes in it more than General Kenobi sometimes thinks he should.

Kriff. Is that it? Did he get too lost in the enthusiasm of a sparr?

“Anyone hurt?” Rex asks as they run.

Fives keeps pace with him easily. Those alpha hormones must be pumping adrenaline straight into his bloodstream. “No, sir. But the General is, uh—he’s—“

Whatever the General is, Fives doesn’t get the chance to say. They arrive at the training grounds to find twenty-something men in various states of disarray, clumped around the handful of training equipment they’d brought down from the Resolute.

Even through the bucket’s filters, the acrid scent of Alpha is almost overwhelming. Fives freezes beside him, like a predator scenting prey down-wind, pupils shrinking rapidly.

“Atten-tion,” Rex bellows, sharp enough that the troopers’ Kamino-honed instincts override their hormone-drunk brains. They snap into parade-rest before they’ve even registered his presence.

He scans the training grounds. No one seems hurt, thankfully.

“Where is General Skywalker?”

A handful of troopers shuffle to the side. Rex almost reprimands them for breaking rank, but then he sees the towering stack of training matts and the lanky jedi curled at the top like a bird of prey—or an over-large tooka who got stuck up a tree. When he catches Rex looking, he bares his teeth, showing off his unsheathed fangs.

Rex takes several deep breaths to calm himself, and then stops when he realises breathing in the hormones will only make it harder to think. He needs to act fast, before the exposure to the General’s overwhelming pre-rut starts affecting the men.

“Where is Commander Tano?” he asks Fives, low enough that Skywalker shouldn’t hear.

“Still on a scouting mission,” Fives murmurs back. “We let the vod with her know not to come back until we dealt with this.”

“Form a parameter around the training grounds,” Rex instructs the closest group of troopers. They seem mostly clear-eyed, but who knows how long that will last. With how much hormones General Skywalker is pumping out, it’s possible the alphas will start to lose it soon enough. He just has to hope that their soldier instincts and the betas among them will be able to control them. “Keep traffic away from this area unless it’s an emergency. And put your buckets on, for kriff’s sake.” Immediately, Rex remembers an even more pressing issue. “Has anyone contacted the 212th?”

“Yes, sir.” Jesse, helmet on, steps forward. “I contacted Commander Cody as soon as I realised the situation. He says he’s going to keep everyone on lockdown over at their base.”

By everyone, they all know he really means General Kenobi, specifically.

“Good man. Keep them updated.” He spins on his heels to face a hazy-eyed Fives. “Fives, still with me? Alert the medics. We might need to call them in.”

“Yes, sir,” Fives says, and spins on his heel, talking a step towards the med-tent.

Rex catches him around the pauldron before he can get too far. “With your comm, Fives. In your bucket.”

Fives blinks sluggishly at him. “My bucket. Right. It’s…” He stares off into space for a long minute, before scrambling off to the thin strip of tarp laid out by the training grounds, where they dump their gear before sparring. It takes him several attempts to find the correct helmet.

Rex leaves him to it. Worse comes to worse, he’ll alert the medics himself.

His comm crackles to life. It’s Cody. He sounds as steady as always, but then, the very dirt beneath their feet could be sinking into the ocean, and he would still sound crisp and in control over the comm channels. “Rex, be aware, you have company.”

Rex’s mind immediately jumps to worst-case scenarios. It would be just their luck, to have enemies attack when General Skywalker was compromised. “How many enemies?”

“No enemies. General Kenobi slipped past us. He’s inbound, 2 minutes.”

Oh. Oh, that’s much worse.

“But General Skywalker is--”

“I know,” Cody cuts in. “Someone let it slip that General Skywalker was going into rut and not handling it well, and General Kenobi took off. Nothing we said could persuade him to stay away.”

Rex swears. “We’re going to have to head him off, if he gets here--”

He doesn’t even want to imagine what could happen. They’ve never had to worry about something like this before, not that Rex is aware. The Jedi always track their cycles religiously, but Skywalker has always been outside the norms, in every sense of the world–far younger and more reckless, brimming with more power and hormones than the average jedi.

With his bucket on and Skywalker’s hormones clogging his filters, Rex doesn’t smell Obi-Wan coming. He does, however, see Skywalker’s head snap up, pupils shrinking even further. He’s gone so still that it seems like he’s stopped breathing.

Rex spins around. General Kenobi is a fast-moving blur, dodging effortlessly between the troopers trying to stop him. He’s making a beeline for his ex-padawan. The same ex-padawan that’s out of his mind on pre-rut hormones and running entirely on instincts.

Rex lunges into Kenobi’s path. “Sir! You can’t–”

“You should have commed me immediately, Captain,” Kenobi says, ignoring the crowd of panicked alphas dogging his steps. “Has anything happened? He can get a bit delirious when he’s like this.”

“Not to my knowledge. He hasn’t been like this for long. It was an accident, I think.”

Kenobi sighs, and it sounds both exasperated and fond. It’s a painfully familiar sound. “It wouldn’t be the first time a sparring match has pushed him too far, I’m afraid. He gets over-excited and ignores his own limits.”

Rex looks over his shoulder. Skywalker is still perched up high, eyes fixed on Kenobi. His hair floats around his face, moving in nonexistent wind, and it makes Rex want to bolt; if he starts using the force in this state, they’re goners.

Rex is only distracted for a second, but a second is all it takes. Kenobi dodges around Rex soundlessly, and is halfway across the training field before Rex has even realised what’s happened.

Rex scurries after him. Worse comes to worst, he can shove the omega behind him, and pray a brother manages to get in a lucky stun shot. “Sir, you really shouldn’t be here. General Skywalker is—“

“Yes, as I said, I’m well aware. I could smell him as soon as I stepped into the 501st’s camp. I’m surprised more of your men aren’t unsettled; it’s truly a testament to their self-control.”

“Sir,” Rex says again, “it’s not safe.”

Kenobi raises an eyebrow at him, thoroughly unimpressed. “Thank you, Captain, but I will take it from here.”

Skywalker sees them coming and bares his teeth again. He shifts on his perch, and it sets off every single one of Rex’s instincts. If Skywalker registers them as a threat, there’s not much he’ll be able to do.

General Kenobi is a masterful fighter, but Rex has seen plenty of men crumple under hormones. And with the clear dominance General Skywalker is radiating, a growl buzzing through his chest, trying to get them both to submit—

“Anakin Skywalker,” Kenobi says sharply.

Skywalker’s growl cuts off. He rocks forward, all his weight on his knees and hands, like he’s ready to pounce. Skywalker has always been slighter than the troopers, but the action draws attention to the breadth of his shoulders and muscled arms.

“Anakin,” Kenobi says again, taking a step forward. “Come down from there. What are you, an over-large tooka? You won’t catch any birds up there, my friend.” Skywalker huffs and looks away slowly. Rex gets the distinct impression that Skywalker just rolled his eyes at Kenobi. “Don’t you take that tone with me, padawan. You’re the one that got yourself in this situation, I had nothing to do with it.”

Fives edges carefully into his periphery, panicked eyes fixed on Skywalker. He’s located his helmet. It’s clutched to his chest like a shield, as though that could do anything against Skywalker if he truly registered Fives as a threat.

“Sir,” Fives whisper-shouts, “the medics want an update on Skywalker. What should I tell them?”

At the sound of his name, Skywalker’s eyes dart to them. Fives squeaks. Rex has never heard him make that noise before, not even in the dozens of battles they fought on the frontlines.

Kenobi claps, once. Anakin’s eyes stay fixed on Fives.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Kenobi says, slow and purposeful, and Anakin’s stare immediately returns to him. “Don’t make me come up there and get you.”

Kenobi and Skywalker stare at each other for a long, unbroken moment. Rex holds his breath. He really, really doesn’t want this situation to end in violence, but every one of his instincts says that it will.

“One,” Kenobi says. Skywalker flinches, eyes flickering around him, as though looking for an escape.

“Two,” Kenobi says, arms crossed. “Don’t make me get to five, padawan.”

“What is happening?” Fives hisses. Rex frantically motions for him to be silent.

“Three,” Kenobi says, louder this time. “Four.”

Skywalker hunches his shoulder. He looks almost mullish and far smaller than he had before, more like an overgrown padawan than a rut-fueled alpha.

“Anakin.” Skywalker’s shoulders hunch more, hair hanging down to cover his eyes. Kenobi sighs. “Alright, then. Fiv–”

Skywalker yelps and jumps down from his perch. He collides hard with Kenobi, knocking him to the ground, and everyone within eyesight scrambles forward. A few people are armed. If this turns into a shoot-out, there will be casualties.

Skywalker doesn’t smell hostile, though. If anything, his scent has turned apologetic, matching his bowed head and the purring whine buzzing up his throat.

Kenobi groans. “Anakin, I can’t breathe. You keep forgetting that you’re not eleven years old anymore; you can’t jump on me without crushing me.”

Skywalker reluctantly rolls off his master. Kenobi sits up. Despite the mouthful of alpha hormones he must have inhaled, Obi-Wan’s face is unflushed, and his eyes are as clear and sharp as ever.

Kenobi gently touches Skywalker’s shoulder, the way he might if they were in a debriefing meeting after a hard mission, and Skywalker goes completely boneless and slumps against him. He nuzzles closer, until his head is tucked under Obi-Wan’s chin. In this position, his back is bowed. It should look ridiculous–such a large, fully grown alpha trying to curl up in a shorter omega’s arms–but it’s just… very cute.

Several brothers shove their buckets on. Rex suspects they aren’t trying to block out the happy-but-cowed alpha scent that Skywalker is suddenly exuding, but taking discrete holos.

Rex crouches down, carefully staying out of arm's reach of his cuddling commanding officers. Skywalker might seem calm now, but he has a wire-thin temper and Rex doesn’t want to set it off with Kenobi’s neck so close to his teeth.

“Sirs?” Rex asks quietly.

“It’s alright,” Kenobi reassures him, fingers ghosting over Skywalker’s scalp. Skywalker makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and pushes into the touch, like a tooka. “Anakin can get rather worked up when his rut is triggered, but he won’t hurt anyone unless they try and challenge him.”

“The way you handled that…” Rex hasn’t been around many omegas, aside from Ahsoka and Kenobi, but he’s never seen anyone handle a rut-crazed alpha like that before.

Kenobi laughs. “I’ve had an alpha padawan for over a decade, Captain. You think I don’t know how to handle my own child?”

Rex rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I guess I underestimated the both of you.”

Kenobi pulls away from Skywalker and shuffles to the right, until his back hits the stack of training mats. Skywalker whines, eyes big and betrayed, and Kenobi just huffs and raises his arm. Skywalker hurries to squash himself back under Kenobi’s arm.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to move anytime soon,” Kenobi says. “Could you fetch my holopad for me? And let Cody know that I’m alright? He was fussing earlier, and I’m sure that’s only gotten worse in my absence.”

Rex bites back a grin. He’s not sure how he’s going to explain, but he is sure that Cody’s expression is going to be priceless. “Yes, sir. I’ll grab some water and sun-protection for you both, too.”

Later, when Rex circles back to the training mats to check on his commanding officers, he finds Ahsoka, freshly returned from her scouting mission, tucked beneath Kenobi’s other arm. Skywalker’s long legs are resting in her lap. Both Ahsoka and Anakin are deeply asleep, snoring softly against a dozing Kenobi.