Chapter Text
Faro couldn’t focus. She stared at the fleet reports in front of her, every number swimming in a heat that had nothing to do with the Star Destroyer’s engines. She shifted in her chair, muttering under her breath, trying desperately to summon the part of her brain trained for precision.
Why am I… why is everything hot? Why am I thinking about his jawline…
Thrawn’s presence made it worse. He was standing across the table, reviewing the same reports, completely calm. Hands folded, eyes scanning with that terrifying precision, utterly in control. Every detail, every subtle movement of his uniform, every glint of light on his cheekbone—it made her pulse spike, and her lower body betray her in ways she would never admit aloud.
She flushed. She had fantasized about this before. Quietly. Alone. In her quarters. Hands pressed to herself, imagining him. Ridiculous, forbidden, and now, maddeningly vivid.
Her lips parted, heart racing. She had to do something.
“You… you know, you’re very… distracting,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.
Thrawn blinked. Just once. His expression remained calm, but the faintest lift of his eyebrow betrayed the tiniest flicker of surprise. “I am… distracting?” His voice was even, careful, but she swore it sounded slightly higher than usual.
“Yes. Very,” she said, suddenly aware of how breathless she sounded. She got up and pressed her hands to the table for balance, because, dammit, her body would not obey.
Thrawn regarded her steadily. “Distracting in what manner, Captain Faro?”
“Uh… in a… complicated, personal… physiological sort of way,” she said, and immediately cursed herself. God, that sounds insane.
He tilted his head slightly. “Explain.”
Faro exhaled sharply and came closer. A lot closer. “I’m trying to work, but I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, touching you…” She leaned forward, reckless, and tried to shove him onto the table. “And possibly other things.”
The table groaned under their weight. Thrawn did not flinch. He did, however, move his hands, bracing against the edge, his stance carefully adjusting so she couldn’t actually push him over. She blinked. He was heavier than she expected. And annoyingly steady.
“Captain Faro,” he said, calm but incredulous, “what are you doing?”
Her heart thudded so hard it almost drowned out his voice. She could feel every inch of her skin pulsing, heat rolling through her in waves. It wasn’t thought anymore—it was instinct, reckless and insistent.
“Kiss me.”
Thrawn froze. His composure flickered—barely—but she saw it. “Excuse me?”
Faro leaned closer still, her voice low and commanding, drawing on that same tone she used to silence a bridge crew mid-chaos. “I said—kiss me.”
There was a beat of silence. She could see the faintest widening of his eyes—the smallest crack in the flawless control that defined him. It was intoxicating. Her pulse roared in her ears. Stars, what am I doing? But it was too late now.
Before he could move or speak, she grabbed him by the lapels of his immaculate uniform and pulled him toward her. The fabric was warm under her fingers; his body, solid and unyielding. She pressed her lips to his—hard, insistent, desperate. A low sound escaped her throat, half frustration, half want.
Thrawn didn’t kiss her back. He didn’t push her away either. He simply stood there—still, steady—as if she were a storm he was studying, not surviving. His hands came up, bracketing her shoulders, steadying her—not restraining, not resisting—just holding her in place, assessing.
Faro’s mind spun. Every nerve was alive. The taste of him, the scent of his uniform, the feel of his steady breath against her lips—it made her dizzy. Why isn’t he kissing me back? Why is he so calm? The thought infuriated her, made her want to shake him—or melt against him.
“What?” she managed, her voice half a growl, half a plea. She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, a spark of frustration and raw arousal mixing until she could barely think straight..
“I find your behavior… most unusual.”
Faro’s pulse skipped. Unusual? That’s one word for it. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, tugging lightly, and bit her lower lip. The heat pooling low in her belly made her shiver, and she pressed just slightly closer, savoring the way his calm composure made her feel like she was on the edge. “I suppose it is,” she said, voice low, teasing, and a little breathless. “But… isn’t it great?”
His expression remained perfectly unreadable, but the narrowing of his eyes betrayed a flicker of… surprise? Amusement? Intrigue? She didn’t know and right now she didn’t care.
“Do you know how impossible it is to calculate fleet movements when all I want is—” she paused, frustrated, heat rising all the way to her cheeks. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. “…Never mind. You probably don’t care.”
“Oh, I… do care,” Thrawn said evenly, eyes still sharp. “Enough to… intervene, I believe.”
Faro’s heart jumped. Intervene? Now?Was he insane? “Intervene?” she echoed, pressing a finger to his chest. “Oh, don’t be coy. I can see the way you’re looking at me. Admit it—you like this.”
“Do you know what’s wrong with you?” he asked quietly, catching her wandering fingers in his hand—if only to stop her from tracing the seams of his uniform.
The contact of their skin sent a jolt straight through her.
Faro laughed softly, trying to cover the racing in her chest. “It could be my new sleep medication,” she admitted, her voice dipping into something that sounded far too intimate for a report room. “Or… maybe I just have better ideas of how to spend the afternoon.”
Why did I say that? The words tumbled out before she could stop them, reckless and a little giddy. A part of her—the captain who lived on discipline—screamed that this was mutiny by hormones. The rest of her couldn’t care less. He was close enough for her to smell the faint scent of metal and spice clinging to his uniform. Her imagination filled in everything else.
“I’m sure,” he said at last, and the weight of his voice slid down her spine like a measured hand. Then he sighed—the kind of sigh that meant this was over and he was deciding what to do about it.
“Captain Faro,” he said, low and perfectly controlled, “I believe this requires… medical observation. You are clearly… compromised.”
For a moment she could only stare at him, half-breathless, half-delighted. “Compromised?” she echoed. “I’m having a wonderful time!”
Before she could protest further, he guided her away from the table, her protests dissolving into laughter and half-muffled pleas.
“Tharwn.“ she said, leaning into him despite herself, “you know this is… scientifically fascinating, right?”
He made no comment this time and simply continued to escort her down the corridor toward sickbay.