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Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q
A Match for Mayday: Chapter 1
Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)
Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader
Rating: T
Wordcount: 2.2k
Warnings and tags: fluff
A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️🩹
Read Chapter 2 here!
Your sister has always had immaculate taste. From her gorgeous flat in a Coruscant high-rise, to the handsome trooper currently staring down at her with adoration in his soft brown eyes as she wraps her arm around his waist, to the selection of high-quality brews in the conservator which you are currently raiding, she has curated a beautiful life for herself. She’s been your best friend since the day she was born, and you couldn’t be happier for her. You didn’t have an easy childhood, and seeing your little sister settled and thriving is everything you had hoped for her during those difficult days.
Her boyfriend—no, make that fiancé—practically worships her. As you watch them through the sliding glass door, you realize you’ve never seen her look as content as she does in that moment, smiling softly up at Hexx. Unbeknownst to you, an identical smile plays on your own lips as you close the conservator door. Just as you do, a latecomer enters the kitchen, and you turn automatically to greet him, your eyes widening as you take him in.
He’s a clone, but damn, what a clone. He looks older than Hexx and most of his brothers, though that might be due to his beard and longer hair. He’s tall and solidly built, and even in civilian clothing, he looks imposing. His long sleeves are rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle, with a hint of tattoo ink peeking from the edge of the fabric.
“Hello,” you greet him, that soft smile still in place as you introduce yourself.
“Mayday,” he replies, and his voice is deeper and and more gravelly than you’ve heard from other clones. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Up close, you can see faint lines around his eyes, and a sprinkle of silver in his hair. Definitely older than Hexx, then.
“Can I get you a beer?” you offer. “Or are you a whiskey man?”
“A beer sounds great, thanks,” he says, and you hand him the cold bottle you just pulled out of the conservator. His fingers brush against yours, soft and warm, and his eyes follow you as you turn to pull another bottle out of the conservator. “How do you know Hexx and Sunni?”
“Sunni is my sister,” you reply.
“I thought I saw the resemblance,” he says. “Why aren’t you out partying with the others?”
“Just came in for a drink,” you reply. He arches an eyebrow, and you buckle immediately under his unspoken interrogation. “And to hide for a few minutes.”
“Now, why would you want to hide?” he asks, tapping his bottle against yours and taking a long sip.
You shrug. “Not a huge fan of crowds. They make me nervous.”
“You must hate living on Coruscant, then,” he says.
“I would if I lived here,” you reply.
“You’re not local?” he asks, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining the hint of regret in his tone.
“No, I live on Nakadia,” you reply. “I’m only on Corrie for the engagement party.”
“Nakadia?” he asks. “Then you must be the farmer.”
“Yes, I own a flower farm there,” you reply. “How did you know?”
“Hexx told me they were having the wedding at your farm. You’re a brave woman to agree to host that many clones for a party,” he says with a charming smile.
“I’d do anything for Sunni,” you reply. “But I have to admit it’s weird to think that she’s getting married when I still see the adorable little girl with fluffy hair and a face covered in jelly when I look at her.”
“I know the feeling,” Mayday says with an ironic twist of his mouth. “We do what we can for them, but in the end, we have to trust them to know what they’re doing.”
“Hexx seems like a good man,” you say tentatively. “And he makes her happy.”
“Have you known him long?” he asks.
“I’d only spoken to him on holocalls until I got to Corrie three days ago,” you reply. “What about you? Did you serve with him?”
Mayday nods. “I’m his commanding officer, at least for the moment. I can tell you that there’s not a more loyal soldier in the GAR. He’ll take good care of your sister.”
“When you say ‘for the moment,’ what does that mean? Is he being reassigned?” you ask curiously. Sunni hadn’t mentioned it.
“Not to my knowledge,” he replies. “But I am retiring.”
He seems too young to be retiring, but there is a weariness about his eyes that makes you think he’s earned it.
“What will you do then?” you ask, relaxing back against the countertop.
Mayday mimics your laid-back posture, leaning against the wall as he answers. “Haven’t decided yet. I might just spend some time enjoying being the only person in charge of my time.”
“You’re not going to rush down to RTL to find the love of your life?” you ask, a teasing light springing into your eyes.
“Nah, not for me,” he replies. “I’d prefer to meet somebody organically.”
“Understandable,” you reply. “Though it certainly worked out well for Sunni and Hexx.”
“And what about you?” he asks.
“What about me?” You take a sip of beer and enjoy its icy effervescence on your tongue.
“Any plans to visit the matchmaker?”
“I’m not really interested,” you admit.
Mayday nods slightly, his eyes unreadable. “So you’re taken, then?”
The door slides open abruptly, and Sunni bursts in like the force of nature that she truly is, tugging Hexx behind her.
“Are you hiding in here?” she demands with an infectious laugh.
“Of course not!” you lie with dignity. “I was entertaining your guest.”
“Welcome, Commander,” Hexx says, subtly standing at attention.
“Relax, Hexx. You don’t need to salute me at your own engagement party,” Mayday says with that easy, charming smile.
Hexx and Sunni sweep you back outside to join the rest of the party goers before you get a chance to tell Mayday that you are very single.
Months pass before you see Mayday again. Sunni is swept up in wedding plans, and you head back to Nakadia to tend to your farm. There’s plenty to do, between your normal responsibilities and the additional work of getting the property ready to host a large wedding. If you think Sunni is a social butterfly, she pales in comparison to Hexx and his multitude of brothers. Sunni is going to have the largest family-in-law in the galaxy, and it seems like half the GAR will be attending the wedding, along with their plus-ones, most of whom had met through Right to Love Matchmaking. Several of the matchmakers are also invited, and you hope they aren’t so dedicated to their work that they will harass you to sign up for their services.
A few weeks before the wedding, Sunni and Hexx arrive with a large contingent of clones to help with the labor of getting the farm ready for such a large gathering. Veetch is there, of course, along with numerous members of the 77th Heavy Brigade.
And, of course, Mayday is there.
It takes an unbelievable amount of work to get the farm ready, but given that Hexx has quite literally brought a small army to help, it goes faster than you expect. The entire first day is spent clearing brush to make space for the large pavilion where the reception will take place. It is dirty, sweaty, backbreaking work, even with the help of the droids. You are exhausted at the end of the day, and after taking a quick shower, you make your way out to the front porch to watch the sunset. It’s your favorite vantage point, and it’s a nightly ritual that you almost never miss.
Tonight, though, someone has already claimed your spot. His tall, broad form leans casually against the pillar as he surveys your lovely farm. In the golden light of early sunset, you pick up the glints of lighter brown and gold in his dark hair, and for an instant, you wonder what it would feel like to twine your fingers through it. On impulse, you stop in the kitchen and pull two bottles of ale out of your conservator. You join him and offer him a bottle wordlessly. He nods his thanks and goes back to staring out at the kaleidoscopic fields of flowers.
You didn’t see much of him today. He has been busy working on a special project in the barn, and his sleeves are littered with a fine layer of wood shavings. Your knees creak a little as you lower yourself to sit on the porch step, and soon he joins you.
“Nice place you have here,” he says at last, breaking the evening serenity. “Peaceful.”
“That’s what drew me here,” you reply.
He looks at you curiously. “Trying to avoid crowds?”
You nod, not wanting to spoil the tranquility of the moment by delving into your personal history. “It’s a good place to live a quiet life.”
“That sounds…” he begins, but he trails off.
His eyes have a faraway expression, and you wonder what horrors he’s seen to make him look so karking tired. He doesn’t continue, and you don’t prod him. Instead, you quietly watch the sun paint the sky in a wash of pastel. As the light fades and the dusk creeps in, you exchange occasional desultory remarks, but mostly you sit in companionable silence, drinking slowly and simply enjoying each other’s nearness.
“It’s a good place for a wedding,” he observes.
“Yes, I always thought if I ever got married, it would be here.” You smile. “I wouldn’t want the big party, though. Just a few people. Sunni and Hexx, a few close friends. A simple ceremony, and then a cozy dinner party under those trees,” you say, gesturing at the nearby copse of acthorn trees.
“You’ve thought it out,” he observes.
You let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “Kind of hard not to with everything going on.”
“That’s fair,” he says. “I never thought much about weddings. Didn’t think it would be a possibility.”
“Is this the first you’ve been to?” you ask curiously.
He shakes his head. “The matchmakers have been busy. Half of the commanders have paired up, and the other half are just waiting for their turn.”
“But not you?”
He shrugs. “Can’t say I ever thought much about the war ending, until it did. By then, it seemed a little late to start planning a life I never thought I’d have.”
You frown. “It’s not too late. You’ve earned that life, Mayday.”
“Maybe,” he acknowledges. “But I won’t find it on a speed date.”
He’s waiting for you the next night, too, and the one after. Each evening, you open up more to him, and the two of you spend hours conversing in low voices late into the night.
“How many kinds of flowers do you grow?” he asks as he looks out across the vibrant patchwork of blossoms that stretches to the edge of your farm.
“Hundreds,” you reply. “Not all at once. I stagger the plantings to extend the growing season and keep the income a little more predictable.”
“Which ones are your favorite?”
“Fire lilies,” you reply. “They’re unpopular with buyers, but I still grow a patch of them just for myself.”
“I’ve never seen one,” he says.
“Would you like to?”
“Very much,” he replies.
You stand slowly. You’re accustomed to hard work, but the past few days have been a whole other level of manual labor. A tiny moan of relief escapes you as you stretch your tired muscles. When you turn to Mayday, he is watching you with an indecipherable expression. He’s very good at that, you’ve noticed. Sometimes he is very open and easy to read, and others he is incredibly guarded. He must be an excellent sabbac player, you reflect.
With a small smile at the thought, you lead him through the twilight into the garden. In the fading purple light, the lush perfume of the lilies surrounds you in a sweet, heady cloud.
“May I pick one?” he asks.
“Of course,” you reply.
Most people don’t bother to ask, and you never realized how much it bothered you until Mayday’s courtesy reminds you that you have a right to say no. He plucks a blossom carefully, reverently, making sure not to damage the rest of the plant.
“They’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “I can see why they’re your favorite. Why don’t buyers like them?”
“They don’t last long once they’re picked,” you reply. “It makes transporting them tricky.”
“Then I’m sorry I picked this one,” he says.
“Don’t be,” you reply. “There will be more tomorrow.”
The sun has fully set now, and his dark eyes reflect the pale light of the moons. He examines the blossom closely, taking in the graceful curves of the petals, the striations and speckles at the center, the delicate filaments of the stamens. His eyes rise to your face, and his hands follow nearly unconsciously. His knuckles brush subtly against your cheek as he tucks the flower into your hair. Your mouth suddenly feels very dry, and you swallow without meaning to.
“Beautiful,” he repeats.
---
Read Chapter 2 here!