Finnara stood looking out at the view of the city on the transport dock at Coruscant spaceport. It was evening. The sun was low in the sky, scattering pink and orange light across the skyscrapers. It really is an incredible city, she thought. Though she always found herself ready to get back out onto an open landscape after a few weeks among endless tall buildings.

She nervously smoothed her hair, and checked the time on her holocom yet again. Stop it, Finn! It's only been 30 seconds since you last looked. She looked down at her outfit, wondering again if it was too much. She was wearing a short, medium gray dress, cut at an angle just above her knees. It hugged her curves, and draped low enough at the neck to show just a touch of cleavage. Definitely not regulation. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. And she was exceptionally nervous. I'm more nervous wearing a dress than going into battle, she thought, shaking her head.

More importantly, she was nervous about going on a date. With Jorgan.

It's just dinner, she told herself. Her stomach did a somersault. Except this was real dinner. Not-on-the-ship, non-ration-pack dinner.

Hey Finn, you asked for it. When they had finally been released from the Senate hearing that afternoon, she had just wanted to get away from it all—the Senate, her ship, soldiering. She had been so grateful for the bogus politics to be over that she didn't really think about it before the words were out of her mouth: Want to have dinner? Jorgan had been surprised, but agreed immediately. It was only when they got back to the ship that she realized she had nothing other than casual civs to wear. Coruscant wasn't a place where you went to dinner in your jeans. Well, not this kind of dinner.

So she had rushed out, asking Jorgan to meet her here at 7. She had gone to the nearest shopping center, and found a dress. She was still feeling strange from the sheer normalcy of such an activity. She had gone back to the ship to change, but Jorgan had been nowhere to be found.

Maybe it was the shoes making her feel off balance. They were only short black heels—she refused to buy anything too tall to run in—but she definitely wasn't used to wearing heels of any kind. Unconsciously, she twirled a lock of hair in her fingers.

"Well, Major, don't you clean up nice." Recognizing the voice, she turned to see the SIS agent Jonas Balkar approaching her from the direction of the Senate Plaza. She had seen him earlier that day, assisting General Garza in the investigation of the traitorous senator that had caused the day's events. It was good to see him again. She hadn't really gotten to talk to him that morning.

He stopped a couple of feet away from her. His eyes very deliberately scanned her up and down with unconcealed admiration. She immediately felt herself flush.

"Thanks, Jonas." Her tone was flat. But she couldn't help feeling flattered.

"You didn't do this all for me, did you?" He teased. She smacked his shoulder. "Ouch. I can't help being curious. I like seeing you free of those terribly unflattering uniforms you soldiers wear."

She gave a short laugh. "They're not supposed to be flattering, you nitwit."

"Ah, but just think how well a blaster rifle would go with this." He gave a mock sigh of regret.

She laughed fully at that. He really is a handsome man, she thought. Jonas was one of those men with just the right amount of refined and rough put together. Probably why he makes such a good agent. He fits in anywhere. She had liked him from the beginning. The way he flirted with her was a welcome change from the formality of most of her life. He was easy to talk to, and she liked the attention. She had gone out for drinks with him a couple of times back on Nar Shaddaa. He had made an open offer of more than just drinks—and she had been tempted, being lonely and starved of touch. He didn't mind when she turned him down, but he liked to remind her that the offer was always open.

Jonas squinted his eyes suspiciously at her. "I wonder who that dress is for."

She poked him in the chest with a finger. "Wouldn't you like to know. Maybe it's just for me."

"Oh no, that's definitely a rip-this-off-me-later dress." He smirked at her.

Her ears were hot. "I was going for classy."

"It's classy," he assured her, his eyes twinkling. "Just don't go winking at every waiter, or you're gonna have a pack following you home." She smacked his arm again. He stuck out his bottom lip, making a sad face at her.

Before she could say more, a familiar voice called out across the terrace. She turned around to see her XO jogging toward her. "Sorry I'm late, I was trying to find—" Jorgan cut off as he saw who stood next to her. He had one hand behind his back.

Jonas gave her a gleeful look before giving a jaunty salute as the tall Cathar reached them. "Lieutenant Jorgan. I was just leaving." He grinned widely at Finnara. "See you later, Major." He winked at her before striding off. She shook her head at his retreating back. Smug ass.

When she looked back at Jorgan, he was staring at her. "You look—" he swallowed.

Blushing again—I must look like a freaking lobster by now—she looked down, noticing suddenly what he was wearing. A neat white dress shirt, with navy dress pants and a light jacket. It looked crisp and classic on his lean, muscled build. Damn.

She smiled at him, feeling shy. It was an unfamiliar feeling for her, though not unpleasant. "You too."

"Uh, here—" He took the hand from behind his back. "I got you this."

It was a single red rose.

Her breath caught. She took it gently from him, bringing it to her nose. It had a soft, spicy scent.

"I know you said you don't do girly stuff—" he said, his voice rough.

She looked up at him, feeling overwhelmed. She couldn't remember the last time she had been given flowers—or anything like it. She was grateful and touched and turned on all at once. Because she didn't know what to say, she reached a hand up to slide behind his neck and pull his lips down to hers.

They finally broke apart. Jorgan gave a lopsided grin.

"So," he cleared his throat. "You like it?"

She grinned, and gave him another quick kiss. "Yup. I like it."

"Good." Was that a slight blush on his cheeks? "It was sort of a pain in the ass to find."

She laughed. "Well, I like it a lot then." She sniffed the flower again. "Mmm."

He hesitated a moment, then offered her an arm. "Hungry?"

Gallantry suits him oh-so-well.

"Starving." Smiling, she hooked her arm in his, and they headed for the shuttle pad.

—

"We are definitely doing this again." Finnara leaned back in her chair, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. "I had almost forgotten food could taste this good."

Jorgan watched her from across the small table in the café, enjoying the look of pleasure on her face. Stars, but she is gorgeous. He wanted to put his hands through her hair and do glorious things to that elegant neck of hers.

"We haven't even had dessert yet," he murmured. Then maybe he would work his way down the tantalizing neckline of that dress of hers.

"Are you trying to kill me, Lieutenant?" She opened her eyes again, grinning.

"Only if you're enjoying yourself in the process," he said, taking a sip of his Corellian wine. It was making him feel pleasantly warm, and slightly reckless. They were both on a third glass of the stuff. It was delicious.

"Oh. Very much. I'll die happy now."

A waiter arrived at the table and placed a plate between them. It was a slice of a rich-looking chocolate torte with a handful of fresh berries scattered around it.

"I take that back," Finnara said as the waiter departed, looking at the decadent treat in front of her. "I'll die happy after this."

Impulsively, Jorgan picked up one of the small spoons, scooped a bite of the torte with a berry, and held it out toward her. She gave a slow smile and leaned forward to take the offered taste. Her eyes fluttered closed again as her lips closed around the chocolate, and she gave a small moan.

Holy mother of meteors, she is stunning. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his very aroused self. He took a bite of the dessert, thinking it might distract him, but it didn't help.

"Oh blast—that is good."

Finnara had picked up her own spoon and was already going for more. "Mmm. Too much talking. Not enough eating."

He could agree with that. They both ate slowly and silently for a few minutes, savoring every bite. When it was finally gone, Finnara set down her spoon and leaned forward on her elbows, resting her chin on her hands.

She gave a blissful sigh. "Alright. Now my life is complete. You can do what you want with me."

He swallowed hard. He could think of a few things he wanted to do with her. But a restaurant wasn't really the place for them.

They finished their wine and the bill finally came. She tried to pay but he snatched it first and wouldn't let her near it.

"Fine," she laughed. "I'll get it next time."

Next time. He felt thrilled at the thought that they could do this—be this—again. Just a normal couple having a nice dinner.

As they got up at last and stepped outside, Jorgan realized he was completely and utterly happy. Which wasn't really a word that he thought he would ever use for himself.

They stood on the terrace outside the cafe, looking out at the view of the city lights. Coruscant was alive with glittering colors. He looked at Finnara, her orange hair shining under the golden light of the lamps, her cheeks glowing, and her gray-blue eyes shining. He didn't want to leave just yet. He didn't want this moment to end. "Want to walk?"

Her smile was warm. "Sure."

She hooked herself onto his arm, the rose he had given her in the other hand. They strolled along the walkway for a while, enjoying the lights and each other's company. They only saw a few other people. Some drunken tourists stumbled out of a nearby cantina, singing something that sounded like "The Mynock and his Mistress." They laughed for a while about that.

They climbed some stairs to a raised veranda with a fountain in the middle. They walked to the railing and stood looking out at the cityscape.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Finnara shiver, and he took off his jacket to drape it around her shoulders. She smiled wryly. "Thanks. Not really used to this dress thing."

"I could get used to it," he said, putting an arm around her. She chuckled, tucking herself against his side.

"Could you?"

"Mmm-hmm." He liked the smell of her hair under his nose. "I could get used to all—this."

She turned her face up to him. "Me too." She frowned slightly, looking out at the city again. "I wonder if the war will ever be over."

He wondered that too, all the time. He used to assume that he would stay in the military for life. But now he wasn't so sure. He found himself thinking about things like having a family, which was unexpected.

"Finn—" He wasn't sure what exactly he needed to say, but barreled on anyway. "I'm not very good at this. Women. Relationships. Being a soldier is who I am."

She gave a crooked smile. "There aren't exactly a lot of men lining up to woo female commandos, either."

"Rightfully so, if they know what's good for them." He pulled her to him possessively, grinning. "The point is… I've never met a woman who got me the way you do."

"I think you're a catch, too." Her voice was sultry.

He heard himself making a growling sound in his throat. Somehow she always brings that out in me. He continued before he got sidetracked any further. "I've given up a lot for the Republic. And I'll keep giving. But… for all the rules telling me otherwise, you're the one thing I'll never give up."

She pressed herself against him, hands sliding up his back. Gods, woman. "I'm not going anywhere," she said.

He didn't know how else to express himself but to kiss her, long and hard. After releasing her mouth he went to her neck, making a long trail down to her shoulder.

She was gripping his shirt tightly. "Ship?" She said breathlessly.

Feeling his blood pounding, all he could do was nod. He nibbled her ear before finally pulling away.

They barely spoke on the way back to the spaceport, both hyper-aware of their proximity to one another. Finnara twined her fingers in his as they sat side by side in the speeder shuttle.

In the spaceport they stayed a careful pace away from one another. When they finally arrived at the ship, Jorgan was relieved when none of the other crew members were around.

Finnara spun to him as soon as the door shut behind them in her quarters, tossing aside his jacket.

"Get this dress off me, won't you?"

He didn't need her to ask twice.

Disclaimer: Characters and world belong to the creators of SWTOR.