Work Text:
Royal Imperial Academy, Coruscant
Coruscant’s myriad transparisteel and metal structures glistened with the remnants of the previous night’s carefully coordinated rainstorm. Thrawn always took a moment to admire the scenery as he and his government-assigned Human, Eli Vanto, made their way back to their quarters along a terrace overlooking the ecumenopolis after their early-morning workout sessions. But Vanto, much to his chagrin, was having none of it.
Vanto huffs, his hands curling into fists. He glares at the back of a retreating man.
“Why are you so angry, Vanto? It’s a beautiful morning.”
“That guy just flipped us off.”
“Flipped us off?” At this point, Basic vernacular was still foreign to Thrawn. His favorite slang he’d learned thus far was “krayt spit,” a curiously useful phrase that could be used in a variety of situations.
Vanto sighed. “He gave us the bird.”
“I'm afraid I still don't understand.”
“Basically, he made a rude gesture that means eff you.” Vanto makes a gesture vaguely resembling the Human penis. It is hardly artistic.
“‘Eff’ as in what, exactly?”
“Fuck.” Vanto's facial heat increases, and he looks down at his feet.
“I'm not familiar with that word.” Actually, Thrawn was familiar with the word. A Jedi he once met had been overly fond of it. He had never bothered to ask its meaning, however.
“It's not a very polite one,” Vanto said.
“Elaborate.” Thrawn paused under an ancient ch’hala tree, its sonically-sensitive bark rippling with each syllable he spoke.
Vanto stopped beside him, staring intently at the ch’ala’s leaves. “I'm not really comfortable defining it.”
“Then I'll just have to look it up on the holonet. I find the Metro Dictionary to be most enlightening.”
“No, don't! That place is a wretched hive of scum and villainy.” A tsunami rippled across the ch’hala’s trunk. Vanto’s beautiful brown eyes gaze sharply at Thrawn now.
Thrawn quirked an eyebrow. “Then what, pray tell, does ‘fuck’ mean?”
“It means—” Vanto takes a deep breath, and his facial heat increases further. “It means to have sex.”
“So a gesture meaning ‘fuck you’ means that person desires to mate with one or both of us? That's hardly unflattering.”
Thrawn resumed walking. Vanto nearly tripped trying to catch up with him.
“No! It's more like saying ‘damn you.’ They don’t like you, Thrawn.”
“I am aware of that. But what has sex got to do with it?”
“It's just vulgar, is all. People use the eff word as an all-purpose expletive. But they also use it to refer to, um, lovemaking.”
The pair stopped, having reached the barracks. Thrawn keyed the entry code to the building’s entrance, and the door before them slid open with a soft hiss. A gray, standard-issue corridor greeted them. They kept walking.
“Interesting. Please explain further.”
Vanto was silent for a moment. They had reached their quarters.
“Well, if I say I want to fuck you, it means that I want to have sex with you.” Vanto is distracted; he fumbles with the door control. “And if I say I'm fucked, it means I'm in deep krayt spit.”
The door slid open, revealing their sparsely decorated unit.
“I see,” Thrawn said. What he didn't say was, "Well, do you want to fuck me?" He imagined doing that on of their regulation beds. What he wouldn’t give for Vanto to...
“Sir?” Vanto bit his lower lip . “Will that be all?”
Thrawn cleared his throat. “Yes, yes. Thank you, for that most intriguing discussion.” He paused a moment, loosening his collar. “Please, take a shower. There is a lot on the agenda for today, and I don't want you to be fucked. Was that the correct usage?”
Vanto does not reply. His breathing is ragged. He runs to the refresher and slams the door behind him.
Thrawn allowed himself a small smile. A flustered Eli Vanto was better than an angry or upset Eli Vanto. More importantly, it was adorable. Moreover, Thrawn had learned a valuable new word. Yes, this was a beautiful morning indeed.