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Attachment was forbidden for a Jedi. Love, however, was encouraged. Empathy was a Jedi's strongest trait. At least, it should've been.
Love without attachment was a foreign concept to Ahsoka. How could she love something if she didn't care if she lost it? She was certain it wasn't possible. Her opinions, though, didn't change the order. They were forbidden to grow attached.
Yet, here she was.
Sitting cross legged on the plush, mucky brown carpet of Barriss's living quarters, her hands shaking as she gripped a tea bowl. The warmth of the glass stung her palms, turning the skin a soft red color.
Her friend sat across from her, the two sitting beside a small shrine with candles whose flames never seemed to falter. Barriss was concentrating on her tea. Ahsoka was concentrating on her, the way her fingertips tapped idly on the rim of the glass, the messy curls of her hair, her eyelashes fluttering when she blinked. Ahsoka was enamored with her.
Her thoughts drifted, somewhere different, to a train of thought she shouldn't be having. She shouldn't be wanting to kiss her. She shouldn't be imagining how soft her lips are, how warm her fingers would feel laced with hers, the curve of her spine pressing against her belly while they spooned. Romance was not the Jedi way.
She snapped out of it. Barriss seemed startled, the rhythmic hum of her fingernails on the surface of her bowl lost. They both stayed silent.
The tension in the air was suffocating. Barriss must've sensed her thoughts. She must have known of Ahsoka's adoration, felt her affection, noticed the sweet tinge surrounding her aura. And yet, she said nothing.
Their eyes met. Her heart was racing. She could feel Barriss's anxiety. Her own anxiety must've been loud. Loud enough that if she hadn't already discovered Ahsoka's thoughts, she must have now.
"... Barriss?"
The room felt like ice, reminding Ahsoka of the cockpit of the ship they shared all those missions ago, the cockpit where Barriss begged for death, the one where Ahsoka cried at the thought of slaughtering her friend, the place where she cut a parasite out of her mouth, the spot where she was certain she would freeze to death, cradling Barriss in her lap. Oh, that ship.
Whatever knot was in Barriss's throat, she swallowed it, responding hoarsely, "Ahsoka?" Her body shook as she slowly placed her tea on the floor, her hands delicately falling into her lap. Ahsoka noticed her fiddling with her skirt.
She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Paused. "Did you..."
"... Yes."
She didn't even need to finish the question, Barriss knew. She had noticed.
"Are you upset with me?"
This time, Barriss was the one hesitating. Her entire body seemed to tense as though she was trying to cave in on herself. To escape this conversation. Finally, she said, "No."
"Do you - Can I -," Ahsoka couldn't finish.
"Yes."
The togruta girl found herself clambering across the floor on her hands and knees, her tea sat on the carpet, long forgotten and growing cold. Suddenly, they were face to face.
She didn't dare make too large of a move, switching between looking at the floor and meeting the other girl's eyes. She wanted to move. To take her hand, press their lips together, embrace her, something.
Barriss made the first move. Ever so slowly, she reached out, bringing her hands to cup Ahsoka's cheeks. The second her skin brushed her face, Ahsoka shivered. The action made the mirialan flinch.
Her right hand begun to move, her thumb brushing from her cheek to her chin, finding it's way to her bottom lip, resting there. With a shaky breath, Ahsoka nuzzled into her tough, pressing a small, cautious peck to her fingertip.
Barriss was gentle, ghosting over her face, feeling the warmth of her skin underneath her fingers. She trailed over her nose, up her forehead, to the tips of her montrals. One hand made its way down her right lekku, the other followed the beads hanging from her headdress. She toyed with the silka beads on Ahsoka's makeshift padawan braid, rolling them between her fingers, humming contently.
Ahsoka was putty in her palms. Affection wasn't often received by her. Since becoming a Jedi, she'd been practically starved of touch. They all had.
Her hands found their way to Barriss's wrists, carefully tugging them away from her face, leaning forward to bump their foreheads together. She inhaled and shut her eyes. The girl smelled of jasmine and honey, sweet and inviting. Instantly, a sense of peace washed over her.
They stayed like that for a long moment, their hands lacing together, Barriss pushing forward to nuzzle their noses together.
Barriss was the one to ask this time, her breath hitching, her eyes blinking open. Just as Ahsoka didn't, she didn't need to speak, finding herself speechless. Ahsoka understood.
"Yes."
With that consent, Barriss connected their lips briefly. The bond was broken only seconds later. They made eye contact again. That was all it took for Ahsoka to resume their kiss, her hands trailing up her sleeves, behind her neck, intertwining her fingers in her hair.
It was messy but oh so perfect. Despite the two's inexperience. She wouldn't have had it any other way.
It felt like an eternity passed before they broke apart again. They exchanged a knowing look, Barriss chewing on her bottom lip, the both of them struggling to hide their smiles. They failed. Ahsoka was the first to bust out giggling, rocking back and forth and pinching her thighs. Barriss wasn't far behind, her usual sophisticated, soft chuckle replaced by something much louder, more immature, her hands flying up to cover her face as she laughed.
Suddenly, the mirialan flung herself at Ahsoka, wrapping her arms around her and hitting the floor. The two, still hysterical, rolled, Ahsoka finding herself on top of her companion. She shifted. She sat up, straddling her hips.
The giggles stopped.
Silence. Eye contact. Heavy breathing.
Barriss's fingertips brushed over Ahsoka's hips, up to her shoulders, down her arms, intertwining their hands. Rubbing her bruised, calloused knuckles. Smiling.
Her eyes were soft, blue like the ocean of Kamino. They were hypnotizing. In that moment, Ahsoka dropped her hands, moving to caress her face.
She gingerly rubbed the markings over her cheeks and nose. When Barriss shut her eyes, Ahsoka stroked the tips of her thumbs over her eyelids ever so gently, feeling her lashes flutter against her copper skin. Then, she kissed them.
This was new territory for her, but Barriss seemed to enjoy it, arching up into her touch and smiling. Her eyes opened.
They kissed, again, and again, and again. Until they were breathless, until they couldn't speak, until their giggles became hoarse and squeaky. And then they stopped.
The girls laid side by side, silent, not touching other than the way their hands pressed together. Staring at the person beside her, Ahsoka was mystified.
So this is love, she thought.
Jedi weren't meant to grow attached, but she found herself gripping onto this moment - or maybe that was Barriss's hand - begging for it to stay, for them to lie like this again, for more. Jedi weren't meant to grow attached, but oh Force, how could she not? How could she not love those eyes, the messy curls of her coal black hair, the way her delicate hands fit in Ahsoka's palms, her kisses, the scent of jasmine and honey emanating off her...
If this was attachment, oh hell, Ahsoka was screwed.