Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ahsoka hadn’t expected command to feel so lonely.
When Ahsoka joined the 501st, she had expected to find a family.

Instead, she found distance.

They respected her rank, yes. They followed her orders without complaint. But she wasn’t in. Not like Rex was. Not like Jesse, or Kix, or Fives. They laughed around her, not with her. They leaned on each other, not her. She could feel it — she wasn’t one of them yet.

It left her hollow in a way she didn’t want to admit.

So when Master Plo’s Wolfpack rolled in for a joint, she drifted toward them instinctively.
She knew them.
She’d grown up with them.

Boost still called her “kitten.”
Comet still teased her about the time she’d gotten lost in the Temple archives.
Sinker still carried snacks for her like she was seven.

She knew their rhythms. Their warmth. Boost’s easy teasing. Comet’s overprotective streak.

And Wolffe.

He was gruff, impatient, demanding — but he had always seen her.

Even as a child, long before she was a commander. He spoke to her as if she belonged at his side, not as a superior to be placated.
He called her out when she faltered, praised her with a rare but weighty nod when she succeeded.

Training with him felt real.
Sitting with him felt safe.

And when exhaustion pressed on her small shoulders, it was Wolffe’s hand on her shoulder, Wolffe’s voice grounding her, Wolffe’s presence that anchored her to herself.

The bond had been there for years. It only deepened now.
“Skywalker’s distracted. Someone has to train you properly. Come on.”

And for the first time in weeks… she felt seen.

They scooped her up like she’d never left.

And the 501st didn’t notice.

Not at first.
~~~~
“Your form is sloppy, Commander,” Wolffe said flatly during a sparring session. His eye flicked over her stance, unimpressed. “Your opponent doesn’t care if you’re quick. They’ll exploit the opening.”

Ahsoka twirled her saber with a grin. “Oh, come on. I’m fast enough to—”

She darted forward.

Wolffe smacked her in the montrals with a training staff.

“—ow.” She stumbled back, glaring. “That was cheap!”

“That was realistic.” He handed her back the staff he’d stolen mid-spin. “Again.”

The Wolfpack whooped from the sidelines. “That’s our little one!” Boost yelled.

“Show him what you’ve got, vod’ika!” Sinker added.

Ahsoka panted, cheeks flushed, but she was laughing.
Training with Wolffe wasn’t gentle, but it was familiar.
She could argue with him, roll her eyes, even stick her tongue out and not feel like she had to prove herself.

And the Wolfpack doted shamelessly when she was done.

Sinker tossed her a canteen, Boost ruffled her head-tails like she was six again, and Comet loudly declared he was adopting her if Skywalker didn’t feed her properly.

She felt at home.
~~~~
The 501st noticed too late.

Jesse was the first. He spotted her across the hangar, perched on a crate, laughing as Boost gestured wildly through some story. Wolffe stood close beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder in casual familiarity.

It startled Jesse. He’d never seen Ahsoka so… at ease. Not with them.

Hardcase noticed next, during a joint briefing.

Ahsoka stood near Wolffe, shoulder brushing his arm, and the expression on Wolffe’s face wasn’t one he’d ever seen directed at anyone outside the Wolfpack — something fierce, protective, and undeniably fond.

And Rex… Rex finally saw it after a battle, when Ahsoka stumbled back into camp bloodied and exhausted.
He reached for her, but Wolffe was already there, steadying her by the elbow, murmuring something low that made her shoulders relax.

She leaned into him without hesitation.

The sight left Rex standing frozen, a knot twisting in his chest.

She trusted Wolffe in a way she didn’t trust them.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.

Rex felt something ugly twist in his chest.

They’d neglected her. Let her slip away. And the Wolfpack had scooped her up without hesitation.
~~~~
Jealousy simmered quietly.

The 501st bristled when she laughed too easily with the 104th.
They scowled when she sought Wolffe’s company first after missions.
They noticed, too late, that she never looked at them with the same unguarded warmth.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care. She did.
But the bond she had with Wolffe ran deep — forged long before the 501st ever knew her, built on years of shared trust.

Ahsoka had been theirs from the start.

And the 501st, for the first time, understood what that meant.
~~~~
The 501st’s answer was swift, silent, and petty.
The first move: Jesse slammed a 501st emblem sticker onto her headress when she wasn’t looking.

The Wolfpack retaliated by painting their sigil on her greaves.

The 501st started dragging her bodily to their mess table. The Wolfpack would swoop in later to “rescue” her.

Hardcase started loudly calling her “our commander” anytime the Wolfpack was nearby.
Boost countered with “our little sister.”

By the end of the week, both battalions were glaring daggers at each other across the hangar bay.

And then Wolffe and Rex squared off.

“She’s my commander,” Rex said firmly.

“She’s my foundling,” Wolffe shot back.

And that was it.

The war began.
~~~~
The Council chamber looked less like a solemn meeting of wise masters and more like a Republic courtroom drama.

Yoda sat on his chair like a weary judge.
Mace Windu pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting his life choices.

Anakin was storming around the room like a defense attorney in a cheap holodrama.

Plo Koon sat calmly on the opposite side, hands folded, radiating patient “dad energy.”

In the middle of it all sat Ahsoka, her head buried in her hands.

“Case number 327BBY,” Yoda intoned. “The Republic versus… itself. Custody of Padawan Tano, disputed, between the 501st Legion and the 104th Battalion.”

“Your honors,” Fives said dramatically, standing as the 501st’s chosen lawyer. “We, the 501st, claim Commander Tano as ours. We fought beside her. We bled beside her. We are her family now.”

“Objection,” Sinker barked from the Wolfpack side, slamming a datapad down on the table.
“Exhibit A: Holo-recordings of baby Ahsoka asleep on Boost’s chest in the Temple barracks. We raised her first.”

Boost held up an actual holo-pic of tiny Ahsoka drooling on his armor. The Council murmured like a jury swayed.

“She was adorable,” Kit Fisto said helpfully.

“Thank you,” Boost said proudly.

“Your honors!” Jesse jumped in, waving flimsi covered in signatures. “Exhibit B: Ahsoka’s official commander papers. She belongs to us.”

“Belongs?” Ahsoka muttered into her hands. “I’m not a tooka.”

“Exhibit C,” Comet shouted over him, slamming down a ration bar. “Her favorite flavor. Which we kept in stock for years.”

“Exhibit D!” Hardcase screeched, holding up a crayon drawing Ahsoka had made as a child of her and the Wolfpack holding hands.

Everyone in the chamber gasped.

“Exhibit—” Rex started, panic in his voice, only to be drowned out by Wolffe growling: “Objection. The 501st neglected her. They didn’t notice when she needed family. We stepped in because you failed.”

That one stung. The 501st winced collectively. Even Anakin froze.
“Order, order!” Yoda banged his gimer stick like a gavel. “Decided, this case must be.”

Within hours, a truce was struck.
~~~~
Of course, “truce” meant something very specific.

The Wolfpack and the 501st still competed constantly, but now it was organized. Obstacle courses, sparring matches, who could make her laugh first, who could get her to nap on their lap.

Ahsoka sighed, exasperated. But secretly?

She kind of liked being the galaxy’s most hotly contested little sister.

And deep down, she couldn’t bring herself to complain.

She was loved. Overwhelmingly, ridiculously loved.

Even if her family was ready to start a galactic war over her.