What's in a Family?

Nuna Legs and Tartine Teas

Chapter 1: Nuna Legs and Tartine Teas

The young teen winced as he applied a generous amount of bacta ointment to a newly formed scratch across his upper lip. It sounded like a good idea at the time. Seriously, he didn't think it'd be so tough to handle, but apparently not.

Ezra leaned in closer to the mirror to inspect the small cut.

How in all the galaxy did Kanan make shaving look so easy? He had watched his master perform the mundane routine a million times with a small blade. Granted, the guy had a lot more to work with than just peach fuzz, but still. It certainly didn't look like it should be so difficult to do!

Sighing, the teen halfheartedly glared at the small utensil he 'barrowed' from Kanan. He honestly had no idea what prompted this ill conceived attempt in the first place.

Stupid idea.

Ezra rinsed the speckled residue of blood off the blade before hastily placing it back where he found it. Coming up with a good excuse as to what happened over his lip was going to take a little creativity. Blushing slightly in embarrassment, he left the re-fresher quickly before anyone aboard their ship, the Ghost, could spot him.

A shiver crept up his spine.

If Zeb ever found out, that'd be the end of him. That smelly Lasat would tease him relentlessly, and never let him live it down! And to share the same cabin...no, he was taking this little secrete with him to the grave.

A wonderful aroma from the common area instantly changed his demeanor. It would be 1800 hours soon, which meant that dinner was being prepared in the galley.

Ezra grinned.

Food never got old. Eight straight years living on the street, always scraping for whatever he could find, helped him to appreciate every meal. He had to admit that at first, adapting to life with a new family had been...challenging. He wasn't accustomed to working with others, having to abide by someone else's rules, or having to share a living space with so many people. 

But the good seemed to outweigh the bad...so far. 

Stepping through the automatic doors, the teen caught a whiff of whatever Hera had to be fixing. Deep fried Nuna legs, if his nose was anything to go by. The Twi'lek woman had her pilot gloves off to the side on the empty counter space while she hovered about the room. She acknowledged him with a smile as he entered.

Ezra returned it before busying himself by putting together a hot beverage.

His throat had been a bit scratchy lately. Whether it be by allergies, or still growing accustom to Garel's atmosphere, he didn't know. But either way, it was enough to be an annoyance. He figured something hot may sooth it.

"Throat still bothering you?"

Ezra shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Yeah, a little. Could just be the air on this planet. Maybe it's taking awhile to get used to it." He grinned at her, offering to take out plates while the Tarine tea brewed.

Hera paused long enough to get a good look at him. Taking in his appearance carefully, she crossed her arms over her chest. The new cut Ezra failed to mention was blaringly obvious, but that wasn't what had her concerned.

"We've been parked here awhile now. Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"

"Hera, I feel fine." He reassured her. "Back of my throat is just a little sore is all. Nothing a little food and rest can't handle."

The automatic doors swished open once more to reveal a tall being, with cat-like ears, and purple fur. Zeb came in to join the two by casually leaning against a wall. He stretched once, clearly getting the kinks out from taking a nap.

"You ask me, the kid can't be feeling all that bad if his stomach still works." His rough voice grunted.

The boy flashed him with a cheeky grin, "What can I say? It comes from having an iron constitution."

Zeb scoffed, shaking his head. "More like a bottom-less one."

"Alright, don't start you two." Hera cut in before an argument could begin. "We've got just a few minutes before the food's ready, and no one selected to wash dishes tonight. Who's volunteering?"

"Well, can't be Kanan or I tonight 'cuz we got plans to meet up with Captain Rex. There's this joint on the west side we've been looking to try out." The Lasat lazily took a seat at the table, indifferently moving his hairy arms behind his head to lay back.

Ezra's blue eyes narrowed at bit. "Again?! But you all went out last week."

"Yeah? Well, maybe we're going out again tonight." Zeb growled, meeting the teenager's glare with one of his own. "Is there a problem with that?"

The boy held the glare for as long as he dared before finally averting his eyes. Wordlessly he collected his tall mug of Tarine tea, and chose to sit as far away from the Lasat as he could. The warm steam tickled the tip of his nose as he sipped it silently, sulking.

At the stern look Hera pointed at him, Zeb sighed in resignation, rubbing the back of his furry head. "Ah, karabast! Look kid. It ain't anything personal...you're just, well...", he fumbled over his words, suddenly feeling quite awkward.

Ezra fought hard not to roll his eyes, struggling to reign in his attitude. He wasn't some ignorant, stupid kid!

Grabbing his mug tighter, he stood up disgruntled. A coughing fit threatened to overcome him, but he stubbornly choked it down. "No. No, I get it, okay? You guys go out, and have your little fun. Don't let me cramp your style."

Turning about on his heal, he meant to leave when abruptly the automatic doors swished open, and he nearly knocked right into his master's chest.

Startled by the action, Kanan glanced down at his padawan. The man could instantly pick up on the distress coming from the boy through their special bond in the Force. Frowning, Kanan took in Ezra's appearance much like Hera had earlier, until his green eyes landed on the newly formed cut. Innocently, he poked at it.

"What happened there?"

That was it. Patience was gone. Mood was now sour. And the room suddenly felt way too crowded.

"Nothing! Okay?! Just stop babying me!" He blurted without thinking.

Panic stricken by his own outburst, Ezra quickly collected himself enough to push past his master and dart down the hall. Heat flushed his cheeks as the coughing fit finally took hold of his small frame.

He refused to cry. Real men don't cry, but he felt so ashamed.

Gripping the mug tighter to his chest, Ezra made it in a mad dash to his cabin. Once the automatic doors swished closed, he slowly crept up the ladder to his top bunk, before pulling his knees up close under his chin.

Okay, fine. Sometimes, being part of a family unit was more than a little challenging.

To be continued...