Work Text:
Over the hectic months of full and insufferably busy schedules, Mon managed to sneak Kleya away on a few dates, and so did the younger woman in return.
Mostly on Coruscant, rarer off-world. Yet, the latter were quite peaceful and rather enlightening. Kleya, for the lack of time to prepare, always outdid herself and used each and every opportunity she could.
Since Mon willingly made some windows on her work trips away from both Coruscant and Chandrila to just visit whichever of the Core Worlds team was hosting the Antiques, to simply watch Kleya, the younger woman had to get creative. And, well, live up to expectations she set for herself.
And when it was the other way around, Mon would hear no end of scolding from Kleya for spending a fortune every single time on their dates. But the Senator couldn’t really help herself. She owned her love life. It wasn’t even about chic and class; date nights Kleya pulled made it clear, considering her very non-subtle enjoyment. No, she purely liked showing her affection this way. Whether that was one of her love languages or not, Mon craved doing that, and Kleya seemed to relish it. They created a rather balanced dynamic.
Sometimes— most of the time, Mon found herself in utter shock of how creative the brunette would get. One time, Kleya sliced into her hotel’s security, pulling out the codes for the rooftop and threw a night picnic with stargazing kind of date. That alone was enough for the senator to feel more appreciated than she ever had been, which certainly planted thoughts into her mind. She cared deeply. She wasn’t scared of that, but couldn’t decipher if Kleya was.
Kleya, however, as much as she avoided any commitment throughout her whole life –even thinking of it– would get struck by a thought or two sometimes. For once, she didn’t want to run from it. Mon made her feel safe enough to relax.
She remembered that time when, an extremely busy Senator Mothma cleared her evening, night, and the morning of the next day to just fly to Alderaan, when the Antiques had a game against the locals. Mon didn’t do that for the team alone, that was just a pleasant bonus. Not even to see her beloved friends in their environment. She did that for Kleya, to spend time with her.
Kleya had to sneak out of the hotel just to go to Mon’s chalet that sat by the lake. Awfully romantic, especially after the sunset. The hours spent together like that made Kleya’s heart flutter traitorously. She never did feelings. Until now, apparently. Mon was more. They were more. She didn’t want to go back.
And so, this date idea has been eating, picking at her brain for so long she’s grown irritated by it. And it had to be perfect, after all.
Having greeted Mon at the arena’s hall, trying not to laugh at the woman’s genuine interest and all the tries to guess what this was about, Kleya was very vague. She did find Mon cute like that. Always, in fact.
“So, are you going to tell me what we are doing in the Antiques’ locker room?” Mon inquired, gazing around as Kleya made her way to her own locker.
The brunette gave her a mischievous look, smirking slightly. She took out a medium-sized bag and led Mon to the rink. In silence. Which, of course, burned the woman’s insides in mystery.
What was she up to?
Once Kleya sat Mon onto the bench by the board, she dropped the bag, revealing the contents. Mon’s eyebrows hit her hairline in surprise, a slightly shocked —even mortified— expression appeared on her face, and no senatorial mask that almost instinctively slipped around Kleya since the very first evening. “Surely, you’re not suggesting we—?”
“Take a skate? Yes, I do.”
“Kleya, I can’t skate.”
“Pity, I’ve made up my mind anyway.” Kleya teased playfully, crouching in front of the woman. Her hand affectionately stroked Mon’s knee to show sympathy. She was grateful for the choice of the outfit today, however. Mon decided to ignore the gowns and picked dark pants. She’d rumple them a bit, but it was fine.
“Darling… Do we have to?”
“I skinny-dipped in an Alderaanian lake for you.”
“You weren’t objecting!” Exclaiming, Mon threw her hands up in exasperation. She lost the battle before it even started because she could never turn Kleya down.
“Touché.”
Once Kleya caught her hand, she softly kissed the outer side of it, catching Mon’s attention back.
“I have never skated before.” Quieter confessed the woman. Kleya didn’t know if she was supposed to feel as amused as she was, because, it was quite ironic for a shareholder of a literal hockey team to avoid skates like an ancient plague.
“You have me? Please, give it a try, for me?”
Yeah, no way Mon could resist those tender eyes with the look no one else ever gets. She nodded, expecting Kleya to hand her the skates, yet… The woman slid Mon’s shoes off, with the gentlest touch putting the skates onto her feet, securing them around the ankles, making sure they weren’t sitting too tight or too lose. Once again, over many moments, Mon felt her heart sink into a warm blanket of her feelings.
“How did you even make this a possibility? The whole arena, all to us?” asked Mon with a wonder in her voice as she watched Kleya delicately prepare her for the ice.
Kleya wouldn’t be a caring girlfriend if she didn’t also pad Mon’s knees and elbows, as a precaution. She looked up, speaking, “I intimidated your assistant into pulling some of your privileged strings with the club’s admin. Although, I think, with the revenue rates I grew with my stellar performance recently, it’s them who owe me.”
“Poor Erskin. I hope you went easy on him.” Laughing, Mon glanced around, awed and amazed. Kleya was very resourceful. “I suppose, I should talk to them myself about making some exceptions for you.”
“Draven wouldn’t agree.” The brunette grumbled, walking over to take a seat next to Mon, to put her own skates on.
“Leave him to me.” Hummed Mon, slowly descending into her thoughts for a moment.
Slightly anxious in her seat, Mon had a few awful minutes while Kleya laced up. The skates differed visually. Kleya, of course, had her professional ones. Mon seemed to be having figure-kind with the longer blade at the heel. Good, she thought. Maybe that would prevent her ass from meeting the ice. The thought alone made her grimace to herself.
And with that image in mind, Mon didn’t notice Kleya leaning on the board from the other side already. “Mon?” Until the voice ripped her out, of course.
“Oh, right.” She stood up unsteadily, letting Kleya grip at her hand while she was walking to the small gate.
“Eyes up, on me.” Instructed the brunette, noticing how Mon was drilling holes in the floor on the way. “Look at me, Mon. I’m here, you’ll be fine.”
“Easy for you to say, darling.” It was half-grumble, half-scoff, yet, she did look at Kleya. Some anxiety leaving her just then. “Promise you’d catch me?”
“Always, Mon.” Kleya gave her a sincere smile and just like that, Mon felt like she could do anything. Perhaps even ace skating.
Once the blades of Mon’s skates hit the ice, she felt like losing balance instantly. But Kleya gripped her both hands hard enough to not let go. Effortlessly, the brunette slowly skated backwards, trying to make Mon move her feet.
“Bend your knees a little.”
Mon’s eyebrows knit together, as if Kleya just asked her something incredibly impossible. Focused on not falling, against all odds and a secure hold, she blurted out, “What, like in—”
Scoffing, Kleya gave her an amused glare. “One track mind.” She shook her head, and, honest to herself, she would’ve shoved Mon, if they weren’t in this position at the moment. “Not as much as you do in bed, like a 1/4th of that.”
Mon followed that direction, and it did help. Yet, she still was afraid to actually move on her own. And Kleya had to snap her out of the thought process to make it automatic. She let one hand go.
The reaction was instant: the sheer fear rose to Mon’s face, leaving her gasping for the brunette. “Kleya! What are you doing?”
“As much as I enjoy dragging you around, you should try to keep up. A tiny bit, Mon. I know you can do that.”
“Unbelievable! How do you imagine that?”
“Set one foot and push off of it. And repeat.”
“I cannot believe you’ve dragged me into this— this— escapade!”
“Come now, you’ve been through worse.”
Sighing heavily, Mon admitted silently. And followed the steps. She was suddenly… Gliding. For the first time in her life. She was gliding.
Kleya, having noticed the progress, smiled at her once again, evidently proud, her thumb absentmindedly running over the knuckles on the hand she still held. “See, you can do anything.”
“It’s all you, darling.”
“Nope. You, Mon.”
They’d never agree on that. Both were right.
At some point, Kleya decided Mon was ready to try on her own. Hearing no end to how the Senator didn’t want to meet the ice with any part of her body, responding only with an eye roll, Kleya took her freedom, making a few laps around the woman to end up by her side. Even after a practice a few hours ago, she was still quite energized.
“Show off.” Mon complaned just before she felt Kleya's hand on her elbow. “You know, you could’ve brought your jersey.”
“Why?” To be fair, the woman didn’t consider that. But she should have.
“I suppose I could use your confidence, in a sense.”
“I’ll bring it if you promise to embrace the said confidence and stop looking like an Alderaanian baby deer.”
“Kleya!” Groaning, Mon stopped in her tracks, giving the woman a frown. A fake one, of course. Though being called a baby deer wasn’t pleasant.
In response, Kleya rounded her, now standing in front. She quickly pecked Mon’s lips, taking her by surprise. “I’ll get the jersey. Do you want some tea as well? I have a thermos in the locker room.”
With the words registering slower than usual, Mon had to catch up on what the younger woman just said. “That would be lovely. I think I’m a little cold.”
Now, if Kleya wasn’t so used to seeing humans flushed on ice due to the amount of physical activity, she would’ve noticed. She herself had slightly pink cheeks. But this was Mon. Almost a houseplant, all things considered. “I should’ve asked you to pick warmer clothes.” This time it was her with a contemplative expression. Not regretful, rather considerate… For the days to come.
“The tea will be alright, darling. Don’t worry yourself too much.” Kleya leaned into the hand that cupped her face softly.
With a nod, the brunette led them both to the boards and behind, leaving Mon on the bench.
She returned on short notice, her game jersey in a home variant thrown over her shoulder and a thermos with Mon’s favorite tea brew.
“Arms up!” Kleya mused, ripping Mon out of whatever she was thinking about while glancing over the rink. The woman turned to her, with her eyebrow raised, chuckling.
After setting the thermos on the bench, Kleya grabbed the jersey, wiggling it in the air.
Mon rolled her eyes but did as she was told, letting the woman slip the piece on. As weird as it was, Mon hadn't felt the urge to buy one or, hells, just get one. She could, as a shareholder. But never really got around. Could’ve asked Vel, too. Just never felt like it. She had a few souvenirs and deemed that enough. Yet, this one… Meant something so heartwarming she couldn’t even express it. Not even contemplate, in thoughts.
She adjusted it, straightening a little. The main color being graphite grey, linen with ocher embroidery, the logo on the front, and the heavy 38 on the back along with Kleya’s last name made her heart skip a few beats. But she kept it to herself, for now. It felt more than comfortable.
After the small tea break, the two went for another round on the ice. And, as Mon promised, she tried to embrace the confidence. She didn’t have to lie, however. The 38 did its job on its own. Even so, it gave her quite some playful mood. She glided around Kleya for a bit, stopping once again. She smirked at the brunette, asking a mischievous question. “How do I look?” A pose struck: chest arched forward, back in a graceful curve, Mon herself drowning in the jersey – all of that under the arena lights, as if she was the star. Kleya felt her breath stuck in her throat.
The younger woman had her mouth go dry at the sight. One would ask, what is so hot about that image? Ownership. Respectful kind, of course. Yet, Kleya couldn’t shake the sudden possessiveness as she swallowed, her eyes glued to the woman, hungrily. “Mine. That’s how.”
“Am I?” Purred Mon, spinning in the spot. Slowly, but it still did the thing.
Kleya rushed into her, careful not to make them both fall. She caught the neckline, deliberately yanking the woman by it onto her. Then grasped Mon’s face, pulling her into an actual kiss this time, which the Chandrilan could only reciprocate just as enthusiastically.
With a vice grip on Mon’s middle, hands wandering up under the jersey to feel Mon’s shoulder blades flex beneath her fingers, albeit through the original layers of the clothing, Kleya couldn’t help but mutter against the woman’s lips. “Keep that up and we’ll have to use the shower.”
“Can’t say it sounds boring.”
“You're an awful influence, Senator Mothma.”
“You’re as bad yourself, Corusanti Antiques’ winger Marki.”
The last thing Mon heard after saying that was a guttural growl that vibrated against her neck while Kleya attacked it with her mouth, letting her sharp teeth graze over her pulse point.
***
Vel didn’t usually spend time at the arena this late after the practice. She’d rather pry Cinta away, lock up in their shared home, and do whatever their minds lead to. This time, just as they were leaving after having a session in the gym, Erskin commed her, asking to pick up Mon’s holopad she somewhat forgot at the VIP lounge during the last night’s game.
The Chandrilan couldn’t complain much. She appreciated Mon coming over to the games, it felt nice. Was surprised at how often she suddenly did that. But paid no mind to it.
As Vel looked around the room, searching through the potential spots Erskin gave her, her eyes caught Cinta staring out. What could possibly be so interesting about the empty rink? She walked over with a question all over her face.
And, knowing her girlfriend well enough, Cinta sighed, nodding her chin out there.
It took Vel a few seconds to decipher two figures. Then, a frown crawled up her mouth. “Why is Mon there? She can’t skate for life.” She complained until she realized that, for once, Mon was also wearing the team’s jersey. “That isn’t a three.”
“It’s thirty-eight.”
Vel narrowed her eyes at the sight. Did Mon just strike a pose for… Kleya?! “Why is she wearing Marki’s jersey? What is Marki doing there?”
“Vel.” Cinta gave Vel an exhausted look. Gods, this woman was slow sometimes. Or delusional. Or both at the same time. Cinta had the patience of some saint.
“She can’t, can she?” The look on the Chandrilan’s face was anything but hopeful. “They’re not— Are they?!”
At the moment, Cinta was glad the glass was soundproof. If Vel went outside to the balcony, she’d kriff the moment up. So, that became Cinta’s mission of her own. “Okay, let’s go.” She turned on her heels, hand on Vel’s forearm, dragging her away.
“Cinta—?! How is that— When did that happen? Did you know?”
“No. But I have a guess. Now, let’s go.” She truly dragged Vel outside, the holopad be damned.
Here goes a quiet evening, Cinta realized. Vel would talk her ear off. Unless she takes the reins and makes her forget everything she saw just now. Well, that could work.
Late into the night, Vel would wobble into the kitchen for a glass of water, sending a message to Mon along.
“My dearest cousin, I’m taking you to brunch tomorrow, and you will have NO excuses. I expect an explanation on why you and Marki were MAKING OUT at MY rink today. I will comm you later for the details. You are NOT escaping this talk. And neither does Marki, by the way. She will get her share, too.”
Trying to fall asleep, thoroughly sore and exhausted, with Kleya’s arm draped around her middle, Mon lay on her back until a commlink buzzing ripped her from sliding into the much anticipated sleep. She took it, quickly glanced at the message, and sighed.
Kleya muttered a muffled, raspy “What?” into her shoulder.
“Vel knows.”
“One problem less.”
“Oh, she is about to become yours.”
“I can handle her. Sleep.”
“Wouldn’t want to be you.” Murmured Mon, putting the commlink back on the bedside table, turning to her side to face Kleya.
“I believe you’ll have to listen to her babbling for longer. And, well, you can’t escape a brunch. I can avoid her at all costs.” Kleya smirked at her lazily, one eye open.
“Cheater.”
“Maybe. Sleep. You have a long day tomorrow. Or rather its middle.” A pause lingered. Kleya could tell Mon was still in her head. She clicked her tongue, turning fully to her side to face the woman. “You’re thinking loudly. What’s on your mind?” She reached up to Mon’s face, absentmindedly tracing the line of her nose.
“Would you mind if I wore your jersey to a game?” Mon said it quietly, reservedly. She knew this was a higher level of commitment and was unsure if Kleya was on the same page yet. Or at all. It was, she realized, scary to ask. But she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t take risks. Politics were a gamble, and she never knew a different kind of life.
Kleya didn’t consider this a move in a political game. Mon was quite sincere with her. That made no sense. Now, watching her in the dim light that streamed into the bedroom through the lidded windows, basking in her beauty: how the sweat reflected the distant luminance of the city-planet; the grace of her curves, the prominence of her collarbones, the blue in her blue-green eyes, and the slowly greying temples. Everything about Mon went against Kleya’s default life settings; they crumbled one after another. She wanted to commit, fatally. Hells, she already had. She genuinely meant what she said earlier in the day, right there on the ice.
Why do important things keep happening on the damned ice or its surroundings?
Kleya held Mon’s chin with her crooked forefinger, having the woman keep her eyes everywhere but especially on Kleya’s. “I wouldn’t.” She confessed, swallowing her own anxiety down. It was big. Bigger than anything, in fact. “If I’m being honest, I would love that.”
“Oh, you would?” Perplexed, Mon looked at her, absolutely not expecting that.
Kleya moved closer on the pillow, nose brushing against the woman’s. “Of course, Mon.”
“Are you sure? That would raise questions. I have never even supported Vel this publicly, save for a few words said in an interview or two. I know you can handle anything, but… Do you want to?” The physical proximity definitely eased Mon’s stress. Granted, moments like these always hit her heavily whenever Kleya would do anything close to this.
“I have a right to ignore stupid questions. And maybe make a statement once, without having to repeat that. The press is learning not to get too close to me already. By the time we act on that, they’ll know better.”
“I like it when you’re feisty.” Chuckled Mon, hand stroking Kleya’s bare back affectionately. Her fingers danced over the strong shoulder blades, soothing the remaining tension away. “But, seriously, thank you, Kleya.”
“Thank you, Mon.” The brunette leaned to Mon, pressing their lips in a hasteless, thoughtful kiss. “Now will you sleep, please?”
Mon couldn’t help but snort at that, nodding while shaking with the laughter. “Fine, you win.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Hush.”
On that note, Mon nuzzled into Kleya’s neck, getting comfortable. If anyone had told her she’d be nesting in someone else a year ago, she would’ve called them crazy. Now, however…
Mon Mothma chose it. Only time will tell, if it was worth it. It already felt better than the three decades of her marriage. Something she wasn’t sure she could name just yet, vaguely familiar-ish, yet with a bigger intensity and profundity. For now, she was certain she had someone by her side. Someone, who promised and was keen on keeping true to her words. Better than any safeguard.
Better than Mon could ever ask for.