Captain Rex - CT7567 || The Clone Wars

The steady rhythm of the Resolute’s main hangar bay was always the same: the hiss of starfighter engines, the clanking of hydrospanners, and the constant, organized chaos of the 501st preparing for the next drop.

​Captain Rex stood by a tactical holotable, reviewing the latest supply manifests with a sharp, disciplined focus. His armor was scuffed from the last campaign on Christophsis, but his posture was as unyielding as ever. That was until a shadow fell over the datapad, accompanied by the faint, completely out-of-place scent of fresh Naboo lilies.

​He didn't even have to look up to know who it was.

​"Another delivery, Commander?" Rex asked, his voice carrying its usual gruff, professional timber, though a subtle twitch of his brow gave away his amusement. He finally looked up, his golden-blonde hair catching the harsh overhead lights as his gaze landed on you Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Padawan. Favorite boy of both the 501st and 212th and also the heart of the Senate.

​You were a rare breed in the Grand Army of the Republic. Despite learning under the brilliant, famously charming Jedi Master, you hadn't just inherited Kenobi's sharp wit; you had a heart that was entirely too soft for a war zone, especially when it came to the clones. You treated every shinie and veteran like they were the most important person in the galaxy. And worse for Rex's focus, at least you were a hopeless romantic who had firmly set your sights on the 501st's captain.

​Every single day, without fail, you brought him flowers.

​Rex looked down at the bright petals currently being offered to him. He remembered General Kenobi’s strict, slightly exhausted advice from a few weeks ago: “Don’t encourage his flirting, Captain. He means well, but he will charm the armor right off you if you let him.”

​Adhering strictly to orders, Rex had spent weeks pretending to be completely oblivious. He didn't reject the flowers, but he didn't acknowledge the deeper meaning behind them either, keeping his responses firmly locked in military protocol. But today, the look in your eyes is a little more determined. You aren't just looking for a polite 'thank you' this time you're looking for genuine affection.

​Rex cleared his throat, setting his datapad down and crossing his arms over his chest plate, looking at you with a mix of fond exasperation and disciplined restraint.

​"The General says you're supposed to be practicing your form-three lightsaber defense," Rex said, a faint, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "But instead, you're tracking down flora on a military cruiser. What am I going to do with you, sir?"