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Obi-Wan feels a bead of sweat run down his neck as they start again.
They started doing this on Anakin's suggestion, actually. Though it was said in jest, his Padawan really did have a quite good idea.
He has... a, well, tendency to lose his saber during combat. So, in a stroke of brilliance, his former padawan suggested that, seeing as he has it more often than not, they should teach Cody how to fight with a lightsaber.
It serves the dual purpose of Obi-Wan training to fight weaponless against other lightsaber-wielding opponents, so, much to Anakin's shock and amusement, they've taken up the suggestion.
If Obi-Wan is being perfectly honest, this is the most fun he has nowadays.
He ducks under another swing from the humming blade, catching Cody’s forearm and adding to his momentum to throw him off balance.
Cody follows the motion, turning it into a spin to help him bring the blade back around and down onto his Jedi.
Just barely, Obi-Wan gets out of the way, grinning as his blade scores the ground where he was standing a second before. The plasma is on a lower setting for training, so all it does is leave a scorch mark on the training floor, not cutting into it. “Good recovery, Commander.”
Cody huffs, getting back into his resting stance. He took to learning katas very seriously, and has adopted his own brand of form VI, though without the usual use of force to accompany it. Instead of the force, he supplements his fighting style with stun blasts and the use of hand-to-hand combat.
“Could say the same for you,” the Marshal Commander huffs, smiling a little. He enjoys this almost as much as Obi-Wan does. “But that was close; getting tired, General?”
“Not on your life,” the Jedi returns, despite the fact that they’ve been at this for the better part of an hour, and he is tired. He’s sure Cody is too, but both of them would rather keep going until they collapse rather than admit they need a break.
A cheer comes from somewhere behind Cody, probably Ghost Company, come to give them an audience as usual. He doesn’t glance behind him, even as he hears (who he suspects is) Waxer shouting for Obi-Wan to kick their Commander’s shebs.
Longshot will tell him who it was later, and he’ll stick them on latrine duty.
Obi-Wan does get distracted however, frowning the tiniest bit at the collection of soldiers enjoying the show, and Cody takes his opportunity.
He runs forward, saber raised in preparation for a wide, arcing swipe.
Rather than trying to get out of the way, the General seems to realize he can’t quite dodge this, so he instead steps towards Cody, inside his space and reaching his hand up to grab Cody’s wrist in an attempt to halt him.
Only, Cody was expecting Obi-Wan to dance back, and has a little more momentum going than the Jedi was expecting, and they, well, collide.
Cody can’t stop himself in time, so he just rams directly into his Jedi, sending both of them to the ground with a loud smack. The General is still holding his wrist above their heads, so neither of them really has any ability to halt the fall.
Not wanting his General to crack the back of his head on the training floor, Cody wraps his free arm around him, getting his hand under the other’s head just as a twist of the force intervenes to help slow their tumble-- just barely enough to keep it from being too painful to land on his forearm.
Not enough to keep their faces from slamming into one another.
As far as kisses go, it’s nothing Cody would brag about. He’s pretty sure the impact split his lip, but that pain is nothing compared to the sheer embarrassment rolling off of him as he registers what happened, and then the fact that he’s on top of his General.
Obi-Wan blinks up at him as Cody lifts his head, the commander’s shock mirrored in his eyes.
“Er-” is all the General gets out before Cody is rolling off of him, spurred on by the catcalls coming from their audience. He’s putting all of them out an airlock.
And then Obi-Wan, the bastard that he is, rolls to the side to prop himself up on one arm and look over at him with amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’d say you won that bout, Commander. End on a high note?”
“Yeah,” The clone gruffly works out, pulling one hand down his scarred face. “I think that’s enough for today, General.”
“Very well,” comes that amused, lilting voice as Obi-Wan stands, calling his saber back to his own hand. He offers Cody a hand up as he clips it to his belt, which the commander gratefully takes. “Let’s hit the ‘freshers, shall we?”
Cody grunts, letting himself be led off to the locker room while he tosses a glare in the direction of his very nosy vode. He mentally notes their faces so he can dole out adequate punishments later.
It’s not like it’s against regulation to observe a sparring match between your superiors... but he knows they aren’t exactly doing it for altruistic reasons.
His thoughts are elsewhere, so it’s a surprise when Obi-Wan tugs him into the relatively empty locker room, off to the side and out of sight of the few troopers who are changing and chatting.
Then there’s a thumb pressing against his lip, and Cody swallows, his eyes wide as he watches his General’s expression morph into one of intense concentration. The blood stops, and he feels the tiny wound seal itself up.
Then the thumb is gone, and Obi-Wan’s expression is light and happy again. “There you go, Commander. As lovely as your scars are, I thought I’d help keep your collection a bit smaller.”
Cody reaches up to touch his lip, wondering what kind of weird force mojo that was. If Obi-Wan can heal wounds like this, why doesn’t he do so when he gets shot?
“Thank you, sir,” he responds, a little amazed by the trick. “How...?”
The Jedi’s eyes crinkle with his happiness. “The Force is capable of many things, Commander,” he answers without really explaining anything. His eyes seem to see right through Cody, and the clone wonders-- not for the first time-- if he can read minds, too.
There’s a moment that seems to stretch out too long while Cody tries very hard to not think about his superior officer’s lips, or any of the many times he’d imagined really kissing them, rather than having their faces smashed together in a sparring match.
And Maybe Obi-Wan can read minds, because the next thing Cody knows, his General is leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. it only lasts a second, but Cody could swear it was longer, seeing as his whole universe just stopped right along with his higher brain functions.
And then that smile is there, his General’s stunning, room-brightening expression, and Cody has to snap out of it enough to smile back.
“Thank you, Commander, for such an enlightening sparring match.” comes his Jedi’s teasing voice.
He responds in kind, head feeling a little light. “Oh, anytime, General.”
Obi-Wan pats his shoulder before heading off to the ‘fresher, already working his outer tunics off, like he knows what that does to Cody. “Good man, Cody.”
It takes a lot for Cody not to follow him into the shower.
A lot.
He goes to his own shower, and takes his time to work out an excuse to go see his General in his office as soon as possible. Luckily for the Ghost Company, their Commander has been quite sufficiently distracted from his bad mood and their impending punishments.
Force help them if he ever remembers, though.