exonerin - Tumblr blog

exonerin · 4 days ago

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Read a fic once based on this old fairy tale called Bearskin. It was about a man making a deal with the devil. For 7 Years he could not bathe or groom himself. At the end if he succeeded he would be rich beyond his wildest dreams. It took place in colonial times but I'm changing it to modern times because of reasons. (��Modern” as in sometime in the last 30 years or something idk)

The devil must be bored if he's talking to him, Obi-Wan surmised. He's injured and currently laying on the side of the dirt road. He'd been drinking heavily. The war had torn England apart. But he'd remained steady in the faith that at least he could come home to Satine. They were engaged to be married and had wanted to wait until after the war.

He came home to a funeral. She'd died a fortnight before he arrived. Her parents offered him condolences and a place to stay. He declined.

He'd meant to drink himself to death. It seemed he was on the right path if the figure in front of him is to be believed.

The devil appeared as a frail old man but there was a secret delight in his eyes. A joy found from the suffering of others. Perhaps Obi-Wan is closer to death's door than he thinks if he's able to recognize Satan in disguise. That or he's gone insane.

“Have you come to take me? I would have thought I'd be bound for elsewhere.”

The old devil chuckles. “You are, but not quite yet. In the meantime, I can offer you a deal.”

It's so cliche. Obi-Wan snorts. “I don't do deals with strangers. Or the devil.”

“You may call me Palpatine.” The old man croaks. “Save yourself from death and be rewarded greatly in earthly pleasures.”

Obi-Wan is a man of god. Or he was, anyway. The war took much from him. He has nothing and no one. So with nothing to lose, he decides to listen.

“For seven years you must not bathe nor groom yourself. You cannot change your clothing or tell anyone else the reason why. If you do, I will claim your soul for hell. But if you succeed, I will give you riches untold. You will never want for anything ever again so long as you live.”

Obi-Wan hums. The pain on his side thrums. The bar fight from earlier had not gone in his favor.

“Don't worry, I shall even the odds for you.” The devil produces a furred cloak. It looks to be made from a large animal. A bear most likely. “Put this on and wear it always. When you reach into the pocket you will take out a handful of gold. It will never run out.”

Obi-Wan looks at the cloak outstretched towards him. Infinite money would definitely make things easier on his journey.

He laughs then, low and joyless. The devil had hit him exactly where it hurt. He'd always been rather vain about his appearance. Being unable to maintain his personal hygiene was certainly quite the tailored test of strength.

Maybe it's the alcohol in his system muddling his higher thoughts, but he takes the cloak.

“Deal.”

The first year isn't necessarily horrible. In fact it's quite good. Not being able to cut his hair or nails or trim his growing beard grated on him, but it's a minor inconvenience.

That being said, it was nothing compared to the dirt beginning to cake onto his skin. He itches for soap but never gives in to the temptation. He was good at self discipline. The devil had misjudged him. He'd win this easily.

He stays at luxurious resorts dining on king's meals. He travels the country. Sometimes in taxis, sometimes on foot. The money in his pocket ensured he always had food and a place to stay.

The second year gets a little harder. He's begun to smell. Obi-Wan has to dig into his pockets twice now to get a room rather than just the once. The nicer 5 star hotels start to turn him away, pointing him to a local establishment.

He begins to braid his hair, not knowing what else to do with it. He wonders just how long it is going to get and when he will have to start tucking it into his pants or wrapping his long beard over his shoulder. For now though, it is bearable.

By the time of his fourth year, his skin has darkened so much he no longer appears English at first glance. Soot and mud cling to his hair and clothing. It starts to feel like a second skin. An outer layer stitched into him. The bearskin cloak wraps around him like it is a part of him. He looks more like an animal than anything else now.

It is near the end of this particular year that he travels to America. He'd never been before but wondered about going often. He has to bribe a shipyard captain to let him stow away on a barge. An airplane would never have let him on even with proper credentials and an entire truckload of gold.

The journey is long and hard but he makes it in one piece. He is grateful for the rain on the way there. He is not allowed to clean himself, but natural rainfall is unavoidable and thus a loophole. He loves to be caught in it. Standing in it on purpose would count as bathing he thinks, so he never does so if there's shelter around. But to be out in the open and nowhere to go? It was wonderful. A tiny respite from the horror of his reality.

America is not as beautiful as England in his opinion. But it isn't bad either.

9 times out of 10 a taxi driver or Uber will refuse him service, so Obi-Wan opts to walk most places nowadays. He doesn't mind so much.

He travels through town after town. They seem to get smaller with each one he passes.

One night Obi-Wan finds himself a bit cold and tries to find warm lodging. The only hotel in town refuses him business even with the money he presents. Perhaps they thought the coins were fake. He didn't blame them. Who would believe a homeless looking beggar to have a pocket full of gold?

He settles out back in the alleyway. He'd bought a sleeping bag a long while ago for this exact purpose. Just as he's zipping himself up he hears some men yelling. He sits up and gets out of the bag. He peers around the corner of the hotel.

Two men were pounding on the door to one of the rooms.

“We know you're in there Jinn! Give us the fucking money!”

The men are holding guns. They looked serious. Obi-Wan's heart chills.

A man's voice–Jinn he assumes–calls out. “I can get it tomorrow! I already told your boss!”

“Yeah well the boss changed his mind! He wants it now! Open the fuck up!”

Obi-Wan's feet move before he realizes it. War had taught him to not fear death. He's used to charging into the fray.

He approaches cautiously but deliberately. One of the men, brown haired, jumps back and holds the gun up.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Christ Jack, It's just a hobo calm down.”

Jack glares back at Obi-Wan. “Do I look like I have a handout? Get lost!”

Obi-Wan teaches into his pocket and holds out the gold coins. “I have money. I'll pay what Jinn owes.”

“The fuck?”

Suspiciously, with the gun still trained on him, Jack moves closer. He takes one of the coins and holds it up.

“Holy shit these are real!?”

“What?”

The other man takes a coin as well and bites into it. His eyes go wide.

“Is this enough to cover the debt?” Obi-Wan asks.

The two look at each other.

“Uh, yeah?”

Obi-Wan dumps the gold into Jack's hands. Confused, the two men leave presumably back to their boss. Obi-Wan should probably go too. He doesn't want to stick around if a mobster catches wind that some homeless man wandering town is loaded. No telling what they'd do if they caught him.

Just as he's turning to go pack up his sleeping bag, the door to the room opens. An older man steps out. His hair is long and gray. He looked tired. There are bags under his eyes like he'd been awake and worried for days. Obi-Wan knows that look.

Jinn stares at him, taking in his state of dress. Obi-Wan knows what he looks like. More importantly what he smells like. His nose had long since stopped working, but from the reactions of others he knows it's nothing good.

It's the stench that gets people more than his dirtied appearance. The last hotel that had accepted his money and made him sleep in the janitor's closet. They'd set up a small cot and shoved it into the room. They'd probably burned the sheets afterwards.

Jinn scrunches up his nose in a familiar gesture. But then he braces himself and takes a step forward, “You…paid my debt?”

Obi-Wan doesn't really know what to do. He has never been in this situation before. “It was nothing.”

Truly it wasn't. There was far more money where that came from.

Jinn’s face falls in aching relief. He breathes out a shuddering breath. “I–Thank you, I–I don't know what to say. Thank you!”

He startles Obi-Wan by coming closer. No one had willingly entered his space two years. Jinn stretches out a hand. “You saved my life!”

Obi-Wan stares. For a moment he lifts his own on pure reflex. But then he looks at his own hand. At the filthy overgrown nails. The mud caked onto skin. He drops it. Jinn doesn't let it discourage him.

“How can I repay you?”

“Don't ever borrow money from loan sharks again?”

Jinn chuckles. “I won't. It'd been stupid of me in the first place. But I'd been a bit desperate at the time. I didn't want to lose the farm and I–” he shakes his head, trailing off. “Nevermind that. It doesn't matter.”

Obi-Wan furrows his brow. (Though it was more like one brow these days) “Lose the farm?”

The sadness on Jinn’s face returns. “It hasn't been doing well these past few years. The bank was going to foreclose on it and I just couldn't stand to lose it.”

Obi-Wan needs not even a second to make his decision. “How much do you need?”

Jinn gapes. “I couldn't possibly! You've already done so much!”

“I told you it's nothing truly. I have more than I need.”

Jinn looks hesitant still. From his perspective Obi-Wan needed the money far more than he did. Obi-Wan reaches into his pocket and pulls out another handful of gold.

“Here.”

Jinn scrambles to hold out his palms. Obi-Wan dumps the coins. Jinn blinks several times as if Obi-Wan and the gold will disappear at any moment.

“Don't think about it, just take it.”

Jinn cups the gold to his chest and nods. “Thank you.” He says again. Then, “Is there truly nothing I can do for you in turn?”

Obi-Wan is about to say no when he thinks for a moment. “A ride out of town would be nice.”

The sooner the better. He couldn't exactly change his appearance should the loan shark catch wind of him. He's easy to spot as it is.

Jinn nods vigorously. “Absolutely! Wherever you want to go!” Then he pauses. “Though could I at least persuade you to stay the night at my place? It's the least I can do. It's about an hour from here.”

Obi-Wan nods. A bed sounded lovely. Jinn smiles.

“I'm Qui-Gon Jinn by the way.”

“Ben.”

He dozes off in the car on the way there. Jinn drives with the windows down and puts up a new air freshener. Obi-Wan isn't offended.

They arrive well past midnight. Jinn quietly shows him to a guest room. He tells him to please keep it down as he had three children. Obi-Wan nods.

The bed is amazing. It's a rarity he gets a mattress as nice as this anymore. He snuggles in and tells himself not to feel guilty for ruining the blankets. He'll just pay for them tomorrow.

In the morning he smells breakfast coming from downstairs. He pokes his head outside. He can hear Qui-Gon's hearty laughter and unfamiliar voices. He walks down the stairs. He feels out of place and self conscious in this house. This was clearly a nice, warm home and he was an invader.

“Ben!” Qui-Gon says with a smile. It's a shocking sight to have one directed at him. “Come sit!”

Obi-Wan slowly moves closer. There are three kids of varying ages at the table. The eldest looks about 20. The girl with blue and white hair seemed 17. The young boy looked 14. He doesn't see the mother anywhere.

The youngest scrunches his nose and holds it. The girl hits him in the side with her elbow. But she stiffens as well when she inhales and makes a valiant effort to avoid doing the same.

“These are my kids: Anakin, Ahsoka, and Ferus. Kids, this is the man I was telling you about.”

“You?” Anakin folds his arms. “You're the guy that gave dad the money for the farm?” he squints skeptically.

“Yes. He is.” Qui-Gon says giving him a look. Clearly he'd briefed them on Obi-Wan's appearance and to be polite.

“Thank you for the room.”

“Please, it was the least I could do.”

“We have a shower too.”

“Anakin!” Qui-Gon hisses.

Anakin shrugs. “What? We do. Works well and everything.”

Despite himself Obi-Wan laughs. It nearly startles him. He hasn't done that in awhile.

“Thank you but no.” He takes a seat at the table.

Ferus scoots away.

“So, Ben, what do you do?” Anakin asks.

Qui-Gon sighs heavily.

“Nothing. I currently travel. I wanted to see America so I left England a few months ago.”

Anakin nods. “Yep, figured with the accent.”

Ahsoka has stopped eating. Unable to keep her food down. She seems to be silently gagging.

“I can just take my plate outside and finish if that's alright.”

“Nonsense!” Qui-Gon says. “You're my guest! You will eat at the table!”

“May I be excused?” Ferus asks.

“You may. But you have to start your chores.”

“Yes father.” Ferus takes his plate and dumps it in the sink. He runs upstairs. Ahsoka looks after him longingly. Obi-Wan resolves to eat quicker.

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “So what do you do, Qui-Gon?” He asks in polite conversation. Even if he didn't engage in it much anymore he still knew how to.

“Mostly run the farm. I have a stall at the local market on weekends. Ahsoka here makes the best homemade jam in three counties!”

Ahsoka blushes. “That was two years ago dad!”

“She won first place at the county fair! Here, try it on your biscuit!”

Obi-Wan takes a bite of the jam on his biscuit. Oh. That was really good. “This is delicious Ahsoka.”

She nods. A small smile on her face.

“Do you sell these too?”

“Yeah, Anakin made the label for the jar.”

He turns the jar around and sees the design. It was quite nice.

“Are you into graphic design?”

Anakin shakes his head. “I went to college for engineering.”

Went?

“He dropped out to come home and help take care of the farm.” Qui-Gon says with a frown. “I kept telling him we were fine.”

Anakin snorts. “The bank was three days away from foreclosing but sure. You were fine.”

The rest of breakfast goes well all things considered.

Anakin and Ahsoka go out to do chores. Obi-Wan asks if he can help. Qui-Gon says no he's done enough.

He wanders out to the horse stalls, curious as to what kind of work one did on a farm. Anakin is shoveling hay. There's only just the one horse. It was black and beautiful. Obi-Wan, with his mangy hair and foul stench scares it. He must look a fright. The poor creature rears up. Anakin slips and falls backwards into the mud. He groans angrily.

“Sorry! I didn't mean to!”

“Threepio is skittish as hell. He'd jump over a gust of wind.”

Obi-Wan moves to help him up. But just as with Qui-Gon, the sight of his own hand stills the movement. Anakin looks up at him incredulously.

“Seriously? I'm covered in horse shit and you're not gonna help me up?!”

Obi-Wan grasps Anakin's hand; human contact, warm skin on his own. He nearly cries right then and there.

Anakin goes to use the hose to rinse off. Obi-Wan declines his offer to rinse as well.

“What is it with you and water? Afraid of it or something? Like a phobia?”

“Something like that.”

Anakin shrugs. “Whatever.”

He asks if he can help out with any chores. Anakin, unlike Qui-Gon, agrees. After helping to feed the horse and chickens and pigs, he follows Anakin to the garage. He discovers that Anakin fixes the townspeople's cars out of there. It's just a small business he runs on the side while on sabbatical from college.

Obi-Wan watches him work. They talk. It's nice to have a conversation. He missed it fiercely. Having someone there to talk to. The worst part of the devil's deal wasn't the dirt or the nights outside or the smell clinging to his soul, it was the loneliness.

Anakin is very smart. He seems passionate about the cars. He'll make a good mechanic.

“I don't think I'm going back.” He says quietly as if his father is eavesdropping. “I talked to Watto in town and he said he'll hire me. He owns the only car shop in town. Said he'd rather have me on then steal his customers. Might even take over for him one day.”

“What about college?”

Anakin shrugs. “Dad needs me. He never recovered after mom died.”

Amakin stands, cracking his hands. He wipes the grease off his hands with a cloth.

“You know you really saved our asses.”

“It was nothing.”

“Yeah that's what dad said you told him.”

“it's true.” He shrugs.

Anakin hums. He peers at him, he's come closer without Obi-Wan realizing. Anakin leans down as if he wants to peel back the dirt and skin to the mystery core of this man in front of him.

“He said you asked for a ride outta town?”

“Yes.”

Anakin hums again and nods. “You in a hurry or something? Dad won't ask for help but we could use an extra pair of hands for a few days if you're willing.”

Obi-Wan weighs the decision. Not only would the bed be nice to sleep on for longer, but he's surprised at how much he longs to be useful. To do good work. To have a purpose again. Wandering around aimlessly grated on his soul.

A few more days couldn’t hurt.

He gets to know the family. They were all very charming in their own way. Even Ferus who couldn't stand to be in the same room as him. Though a lot of candles have been lit throughout the house recently he's noticed.

Qui-Gon keeps insisting he eat at the table. Anakin makes dinner once. It's good. Obi-Wan wishes he could do the same for them but he couldn't wash his hands for prep.

No one probes him on why he didn't want to shower. For that he's grateful. He couldn't explain even if he wanted to.

The days pass. Anakin teaches him about cars. Qui-Gon and him sit on the porch and talk in the evenings. Ferus still won't go near him, but Ahsoka makes an effort. He liked this little family.

The weekend comes and the family sets up their booth for the Saturday market. Qui-Gon invites him along. Obi-Wan is apprehensive.

“I'd rather not scare away your customers.”

“Are you kidding?” Anakin asks. “People in this town are voracious gossipers. They'll crowd the stand if you come.”

So he does. True to his prediction, people are curious and stop by the little booth to gawk and ask about him. They don't look at him directly, merely a side eye or a glance. But it's obvious they're peering out the corner of their eyes.

The children of the shop owners are curious as well. They gather in a little group hiding behind a tent. They giggle and whisper.

Obi-Wan decides to take a walk around after about an hour or so. Tired of being the center of attention. It's odd, growing up he loved talking and mingling. He loved company. But this kind of attention wasn't worth it.

The kids follow. They aren't subtle. A brave one steps out. They touch the bearskin cloak. They shriek and run back to the group. They whisper even louder now and laughter follows. Another runs up to him, touches his back, and spins around to run. Obi-Wan frowns. Seems he is the subject of a game now.

The next one that comes, Obi-Wan suddenly turns and roars. The children scream and scatter. He has himself a chuckle. That should keep them away.

But then, not a minute later, something hits his back again. He sighs and turns. Then he pauses. No one is there. A pebble hits the front of his chest. Then another. He looks up. Ferus and the other kids pick up a rock and toss it at him. Obi-Wan holds up his arm to shield his face.

“Hey! The fuck are you little shits doin?!” Anakin comes crashing into the scene.

The kids scatter. Anakin grabs Ferus by the back of his shirt. He shakes him.

“This man saved dad's life! What the hell are you doing throwing rocks!?”

Ferus kicks at him but Anakin holds on. Anakin was probably used to roughhousing. Anakin wins easily, pinning his brother to the ground.

Ferus starts to cry. “I don't want him in the house anymore! He's scary and smells weird!”

“Apologize!”

“Anakin, it's fine.”

“No it's not!” He snaps. He pushes Ferus' face into the dirt. “Say you're sorry you little snot!”

“I'm sorry!” Ferus bites out.

Anakin lets him up. Ferus scrambles away.

“I'm not gonna tell dad. But if you pull this shit again he’ll have you shoveling the horse stall out for a month!”

Ferus flips Anakin off and runs away. Anakin sighs. He gets up from the ground and wipes his knees.

“Sorry.”

“It's alright. Kids can be cruel.”

“Yeah well I wonder with Ferus sometimes.”

They walk together. Anakin asks him about England. He overheard a late night conversation Obi-Wan had had with Qui-Gon. But it seemed private so he didn't intervene.

“Sorry, you don't have to answer that. I mean, life fucking sucks. I know that as much as anyone.” Anakin says, hands shoved into his pockets. His flannel shirt looked good on him, Obi-Wan notes. It accented his chest.

Something constricts behind his ribcage. It nearly knocks the breath right out of him. Anakin's curly locks fell out of his baseball cap like a golden waterfall. He was beautiful.

Obi-Wan looks away.

“I don't need to know your life story. Everyone is going through something. It's clear as day that you are too. We all handle grief differently.”

“It's fine.”

Obi-Wan chooses to tell him about his parents. About his childhood. How his fiance died. He misses her.

Through it all Anakin listens attentively. Obi-Wan can't stop staring at him. God he hasn't touched himself in so long. Perhaps that was it. He was just pent up. Anakin wasn't running away in horror the way most people didn't these days so Obi-Wan's fantasies had decided to fixate on him.

He can't help noticing Anakin's hands. Long fingers, strong arms. They were almost always covered in grease.

They wander far enough they're several blocks away from the farmers market and in the central town.

“Ani?” an older woman steps out from the corner store. She smiles.

“Hey Mrs. Organa!”

The woman is kind enough not to linger on Obi-Wan. She greets Anakin warmly. Anakin introduces him. Apparently he used to babysit her kid when he was younger.

“And how is Padme?” She asks.

Anakin's face tightens. “She's, uh, she's fine.”

“That's good to hear. You must come over for dinner sometime. I know Qui-Gon tends to hole himself up in that house of his. Tell him he needs to get out more. His friends miss him.”

“Will do Mrs Organa.”

She walks away.

“Padme?” Obi-Wan asks. He shouldn't pry. He's not sure what possesses him.

Anakin winces. “I met her in college. We're on break right now though. Haven't told anybody because they all expect me to marry her. Well, except you.” He winks. “Can you keep my secret?”

Obi-Wan blushes. Thank God it can't be seen through the dirt caked onto his face.

“It's safe with me.”

After another hour they decide to head back to the farmers market.

A car is following them. They notice around the same time. Anakin frowns. He recognizes it. It's the same one that Qui-Gon had gotten into when meeting with the loan shark.

They run. They race through back alleys and across streets. The car catches up and men get out. They have baseball bats. Obi-Wan knows how to fight dirty, but apparently so does Anakin. They make a good team. They take out the three men together. Anakin spits on their unconscious bodies.

“Should have sent more.” He growls.

Just then another car appears.

“Apparently they did.” Obi-Wan says exasperated.

They get into the now empty car and drive away. Anakin speeds through the streets. He's a demon behind the wheel. He's smiling. He was enjoying this, the adrenaline and the chase. Obi-Wan is impressed.

Clarity returns to him.

“…turn around.”

“What?!”

“They want me, Anakin. Not you or your father. This won't end if you help me get away.”

“No! I'm not giving you to those assholes!”

“Anakin please, I don't want any harm to come to your family!”

Anain jerks the wheel. After several maneuvers he manages to lose their tail. He parks the car and turns to Obi-Wan, now angry.

“Why the fuck would you just give up like that?!”

“I'm not giving up. If I leave town after you were seen helping me it'll only backfire on you! You know it!”

Anakin grits his teeth. He growls angrily under his breath.

“If you don't take me back I'll just find them on my own.”

Anakin suddenly reaches out. He takes Obi-Wan's face in a steely grip.

“Why are you helping us? You've already given us everything!”

He answers truthfully. “I have nothing else to live for.”

Anakin stills. His blue eyes are wide. They are like a balm. Ocean blue cleansing his soul. He aches to bathe in them.

“Please let me do this, darling.”

Best case scenario he gives him some more gold for his own ransom and they let him go. Worst comes to worst they discover his secret gold pocket and keep him as a cash cow. But he doesn't think it'll come to that.

Anakin dips his head and bumps against his forehead. “Okay.” He says quietly. He doesn't let go of his face.

“Anakin…”

Anakin shivers. “I really like the way you say my name, you know? That fucking accent. So posh.” He gives a little smile, sad and small.

Obi-Wan has no idea what the hell to do with that information.

Eventually they part. Ankain starts the car and drives him back into the open. They find the other car easy enough and stop. Obi-Wan gets out. He nods at Anakin and heads over.

The thing is, only Obi-Wan is able to remove the gold from his pockets. No one else can. It doesn't work like that. So when the loan shark has his men search him they find nothing. As far as they know he's telling the truth.

“My lost my entire family in a car crash two years ago. I was the only survivor. I sold my estate and pocketed whatever money I could carry. I don't care what happens to me.”

“So you just, what, gave the last of it to save a random guy you don't know in the middle of the night? No connection to Qui-Gon Jinn at all?”

“I'm sure you've researched him thoroughly by now. Did you find me anywhere in Qui-Gon's history?”

The gangster frowns. No. They didn't.

“I have nothing and no one. I figured he could use the money more than me. I'm a tired old man who's given up on life. I just wanted to do some good in the world before I shuffled off this plane into the next.”

The shark sighs. Clearly this was been a dead end. It was a long shot anyway. He'd ordered the mysterious hobo brought in more out of curiosity than anything else. Nothing much happened in this area after all and he was intrigued.

They let him go in the end. Obi-Wan breaths a heavy sigh of relief. Thank God.

He should move on. Should head to the next town over. But his heart doesn't want to. He wants to see Anakin one last time. With the loan shark now disinterested he could potentially stay.

But oh the way Anakin had looked at him. He knows the danger wasn't over yet. He would ruin that boy.

When he walks down to the house it's late in the evening. He hears a shout from within as he makes his way up the driveway. Ahsoka opens the door in shock. Seconds later Anakin bursts out the door showing her aside. He races down the path, startling Obi-Wan. They collide. Anakin wraps his arms around him tightly. Obi-Wan falls into the embrace. He hugs him back.

“I'm alright.” He assures him. “They won't come here again.”

“You fucking idiot!” Anakin says, relief in his voice.

Dinner is a boisterous affair. There's smiles and laughter and even Ferus talks to him. Obi-Wan can't remember the last time he felt so at home. He'd been at war for years and then fell into the Devil's deal soon after returning to find his fiance passed. He longs to stay here.

Ahsoka gathers the dishes. Ferus helps her wash. As Obi-Wan heads up to his room for one last time, Qui-Gon mentions that he wouldn't mind if he stayed. He needed an extra hand around the farm anyway. And he's sure Anakin wouldn't mind. He says this last part with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Obi-Wan thanks him but declines. It was only going to get worse from here. He was still recognizable as a human more or less. But he had three more years to go. He can't imagine putting this family, or Anakin, through all that. It was his burden to bear and his alone.

That night, it's hard to sleep. He thinks perhaps he will sneak out at dawn before the family wakes. He'll leave a hefty pile of gold on the counter. Just in case. Perhaps Qui-Gon will be able to hire a real farm hand with it. Or Anakin can go back to college.

After about an hour of tossing and turning, there's a soft knock on his door. He sits up. Anakin comes in and shuts the door behind him.

“Couldn't sleep.” He says.

He takes a seat on the end of the bed. Obi-Wan bristles.

“You're leaving aren't you?”

Obi-Wan hangs his head. “It's for the best.”

“For you or us?”

Both.

Anakin runs a frustrated hand through his hair. Obi-Wan wants to tangle his fingers into those locks. He swallows thickly. All the more reason to leave.

“When mom died, dad hit a wall.” Anakin says quietly. “He couldn’t get past it. He held onto all her things. He refused to sell anything that reminded him of her. Then the bills started piling up. He should have sold the farm years ago. We all knew it. The town knew it. But he wouldn't. So he started gambling. Then he started losing.” His eyes are dark as they stare across the room at the wall. “All he had to do was let go. None of us would be in this situation.”

Anakin could have been in college with his girl. Ahsoka and Ferus could be hanging out with friends and focusing on school instead of doing endless chores.

“Grief makes it hard to see the obvious. I know that more than anyone. I don't know what you've been through but you don't have to keep going through it alone. You can stay here.” Anakin turns to look at him. Obi-Wan feels pinned. “Stay here with me.”

Obi-Wan dares not hope he means what he thinks he means. He couldn't possibly want a filthy, disgusting creature like–

Anakin takes his hand. “Whatever burden you're carrying you can set it down here. I won't judge you.”

“It's not that simple.” Obi-Wan chokes out. He can't just wash away his past. The dirt must remain.

Ankain leans in. “Please,”

Obi-Wan lets him. Heaven help him, he lets him.

Their lips press together. He doesn't open his mouth. He's too afraid. Anakin's nose brushes against his. His breath must smell horrendous. His teeth are more yellow than white.

Anakin kisses him again. This time the other man lays a hand on his cheek. He presses his thumb into his jawline. Against his better judgment, he loosens his jaw. Anakin's tongue slips in. Obi-Wan moans. He tasted better than any hot meal he's ever had. Any drink of water on a searing summer day.

“Ben…” He breathes.

It's enough to knock sense back into him. The last person who moaned his name like that was dead. Only Satine had ever called him Ben.

He pulls away. Anakin holds on. Obi-Wan gently takes his hands and pulls them off. He smiles sadly.

“I have to go Anakin.”

Anakin looks like he wants to protest. He actually wants this mangy animal in his house. In his bed. Obi-Wan cannot fathom why.

“I…” Obi-Wan hesitates. It is selfish to ask. He shouldn't ask. Shouldn't even consider it. “Can you wait for me?”

Abakin deserved to live his own life. He already sacrificed so much coming back here to help his father with his shortcomings. But he can't help but want. He needed to know there was a light at the end of the tunnel. That someone out there was thinking of him.

“How long?” Anakin whispers.

“Three years.”

Ankains face tightens. Three years was a long time for a practical stranger.

“Okay,” he squeezes their hands together. “I'll wait.”

Obi-Wan leaves the money on the dining table.

It's about a mile or two away from the Jinn homestead that he decides to stop living for himself. Too long has he been using his money for his own gain. He had more than he could spend and more than he could ever need.

Whenever he passes by someone on the street with a sign, he fills up their cup. Whenever he stays at a homeless shelter, he gives everyone there as many coins as they can carry. He tips any cashiers or retail workers that help him handsomely.

It makes him feel a little lighter. Knowing he was doing something in this world to make it better. The gracious smiles he receives in return are all he ever needs.

When the end of year seven arrives he is more animal than man. Even the shelters turn him away now.

The stench is terrible and foul. He scares children and animals wherever he goes. But everyday day brought him closer to the end. Closer to Anakin.

He makes it an old church at the edge of a town somewhere in Arizona. It was Thursday afternoon. No one was inside.

“Devil! I have held up my end of the bargain! Show yourself!”

There's a chilling laughter followed by a tingle up his spine.

The old man appears just the same as before. Though now, instead of delight, he looks agitated.

“It seems you have.” Palpatine snarls.

Obi-Wan grabs hold of the bearskin and rips it off. His hair, having grown into it, yanks off with it. He feels like his very skin is peeling away. But Obi-Wan keeps yanking. Needing to be free of this thing he'd become.

The second it's off, something clicks. Obi-Wan blinks. His body feels lighter. He looks down. It wasn't just the bearskin weighing him down, it was the years of dirt and mud and filth. He's clean now. All of it is gone.

His hair and nails are trimmed as well. He runs his hands over his face. Shock and awe coursing through him followed by elation. He could smell the air now. It was fresh and good and oh he's missed this!

“And the riches you promised?”

“Put your hand into your pocket. No matter what clothing you wear, it will always produce a handful of gold.”

Obi-Wan grins at the devil. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Palpatine lip curls. “I'll have your soul yet, Kenobi.”

Then he vanishes.

Obi-Wan bathes for three days straight. He's so pruny that his skin is wrinkled beyond measure. But he doesn't care. He'll never go another day without showering again.

The resort he checked in at brings him room service. He snuggles into the soft blankets. Happy and clean at last.

His thoughts turn to Anakin. Had he waited for him? If he'd gone back to college he may have started dating Padme again. Perhaps they even married. The last time someone waited for him they'd died, so returning to find them married this time wouldn't be so bad. At least he tells himself that.

It takes months for him to get his affairs back into order and re-enter society. After seven years England had declared him dead. He returns to his home country and visits Satines family. He apologizes for disappearing on them.

After the fourth month he admits he's stalling. He works up the courage to return to America.

Anakin is at the local mechanic shop. The pay is fine for what it is. Qui-Gon had urged him to return to college and finish his degree. He had. But shortly afterward Qui-gon had fallen ill. He moved back home again, for what he now suspects is the last time, and takes care of him.

Ahsoka has moved away and is living her life. Ferus is about ready to graduate. Ahsoka offered to come back and help out as well, but Anakin refused. He had it covered. No need for them both to be here trapped in this town.

The medication was expensive, burning through all the gold they had left. He shouldn't have bothered finishing his degree. They would have had so much more.

He sold the animals first. Broke his heart to get rid of Threepio. He'll have to look into selling the farm at some point but decides to wait until after Ferus is out of the house.

Anakin isn't sure what he'll do when Ferus graduates. His little brother takes care of their father while he's at work in town. Qui-Gon assures him he doesn't need looking after and can stand to be home alone for a few hours but the last time that happened he had an episode and fell down the stairs. So no. Leaving his father alone is out of the question. Anakin wipes his sweaty brow and sighs.

Soon he's headed home again. He spots a strange car into the driveway. It looked nice. Brand new. He narrows his eyes. Qui-Gon better not be meeting with loan sharks again.

He enters cautiously. “Dad? I'm home!”

He finds him In the living room. He's on the couch having tea with a man in a white button down and slacks. Qui-Gon waves him over. A grin is in his face.

“Anakin! Come in! This is an old friend, Obi-Wan!”

Anakin eyes Obi-Wan. His auburn hair and blue eyes were striking. He frowns. “He just popped on by then?”

“Sorry to drop in unannounced.” The man says. And Anakin freezes for a moment. The crisp accent reminded him of Ben. “I was in the area and wanted to see how Qui-Gon was faring.” Then his face turns serious. “I didn't know he was sick. I would have come sooner if I had.”

Qui-Gon shakes his head. “Nonsense, you're here and that's what matters!”

Obi-Wan smiles. He sets his tea down. “Your father tells me you're selling the farm?”

“Yeah?” Anakin looks between the two of them, brow raised. “It's about time anyway.”

Obi-Wan nods. Then he turns a bit nervous. “I already asked Qui-Gon here, but it's just–well I have a rather large inheritance and thought my old friend here could use it. We've been discussing moving him to a city with better doctors. I can pay for the treatment of course.”

Now Anakin is thoroughly confused. This stranger from his father's past had swept in and is offering a way out? Why? Who would do that? And how do they know each other?

“Dad, what the hell did you promise this guy?” What kind of “old friend” swoops in after years of estrangement? This had to be another loan shark.

“Anakin it's fine. He just wants to help.”

Anakin narrows his eyes. “Sure he does.”

Just then his cell goes off. It's his boss. Anakin sighs. “I'll be right back.” He mutters. This wasn't over.

He leaves the room and stops outside in the hallway. Just as he's about to take the call it drops. Anakin frowns. He punches the number into his cell to call Watto back.

“Why won't you let me tell him Obi-Wan?”

Anakin pauses. He lowers his phone from his ear. Voices whisper from the other room.

“Trust me it's for the best.”

He hears a clink of porcelain. “He missed you. We all did.”

What?

“I'm not what he needs.”

“Believe me, you think I don't feel guilty for trapping my son here? I do. All the time. But he refuses to do things for himself. I want him to be selfish, Ben.”

The name shoots through his chest. Ben. Kind, lovely Ben. Anakin slumps down the wall. Heart in his throat.

The accent was exactly the same. He should have known. It was the cleanliness that had thrown him off. Obi-Wan was respectable in every sense of the word. His hair was perfectly cut and beard trim and neat. He sat with an air of refined nobility that most people didn't have. It was no wonder he hadn't recognized him.

The hell was he playing at? Coming back into their lives like this again when they needed him most? Was he just going to give Dad a bunch of money again and fuck of back to England? Is that all he thought he was good for?

With shaking legs, Anakin goes back in. Qui-Gon looks up.

“What was that about?”

“Huh? Oh, um, Watto just couldn't find where I put the tools. It's fine.”

He plops down right next to Obi-Wan. To Ben. Both men blink in confusion. Anakin stares back.

He had a scent now. A bit of aftershave and cologne. Anakin wants to bury his nose in it.

“How do you know my dad?”

Obi-Wan tenses. “Oh, um, it was about 20 years ago. My car broke down in the middle of nowhere and Qui-Gon here fixed it for me.”

Anakin squints as his father winces. Qui-Gon was handy around the house but he didn't know shit about cars. That had been his mother. She was the one that had taught him about engines.

“He fixed it for you?”

“Yes that's right.”

“Do you hear that?” Qui-Gon sits up. He puts a hand to his ear. “I think I hear Ferus calling.”

He practically runs out of the room. Anakin snorts. He turns back to his interrogation.

“Why are you here?”

“To…check up on your father?”

“After 20 years? Try again.”

Obi-Wan swallows. Anakin watches the bob of his adams apple. As angry as he is right now he's also fighting not to just grab the stupid man.

“I was in the country and thought I may as well pay a visit while I'm here.”

“Nothing else? No other motives? No one else to see?”

“No?”

Obi-Wan looks like he wants to sink into the couch and disappear. Good. Let him cook. Anakin has waited three years for him to come back to him and now he doesn't even want him!

Anakin stiffens. Oh. He didn't want him anymore.

The epiphany settles like dust after an explosion. Anakin leans back, away from Obi-Wan. He'd met someone else back in England. He must have. It's why Ben didn't want Qui-Gon telling him who he was. And now he was too embarrassed to owe up to it.

Heartbreak clings to the edges of his chest. Anakin swipes it away. He supposed it made sense. Obi-Wan was far too handsome to remain single for long. Of course someone else snatched him up. The fact that Obi-Wan had still bothered to come back at all meant something. At the very least he was still willing to take care of his family. Of Qui-Gon. For that Anakin would always be grateful.

The fight leeches out of him. “I see,” he says quietly. He forces himself to continue. “Thank you for checking up on him. He can be really stubborn about his health.”

Obi-Wan offers a small chuckle. “I'm well aware. I practically had to fight him to get him to agree to come to England.”

Anakin startles. “England?”

“Yes. I know some people, great doctors. They will take care of him there.”

Anakin wilts. Everyone was leaving. Everyone was moving on. Anakin was still stuck where he's always been.

“You're welcome to come too of course. I just wasn't sure you'd be amenable. You have your own life here after all.”

Anakin thinks on it. On the one hand he'd like to make sure Qui-Gon was alright personally. But on the other he'd have to see Obi-Wan's lover or partner or whomever.

Then again, England was a good place to start over. Maybe they could be friends? Anakin's voice comes out small. “I'll think about it.”

Anakin watches the sun set on the porch. He wipes away the silent tears that fall. At least now he could finally stop wondering and move on. His Dad would be taken care of. He could get out of this town just like he always wanted. He didn't have to wait around anymore.

Another presence becomes known with the creak of old wood behind him. Anakin tenses. He braces his arms against the porch railing.

Go away, he thinks. Go away.

Obi-Wan appears beside him with a plate of cut apples. “I thought you might like some.”

Anakin shakes his head. Obi-Wan puts the plate on the railing all the same.

“Qui-Gon's gone to bed.”

Anakin nods. Just go away.

“Anakin?” He sounds shocked. “Darling, why are you crying?”

Fuck. Anakin grits his teeth. Can't even be alone in the middle of nowhere on a farm. He hunches over more, trying to hide his wet face. He shakes his head again. Fuck him, calling him darling like he still cared.

“I've been waiting for someone,” he whispers, not trusting his voice. He grips the railing and it creaks under his hands. “I don't think they're coming back for me anymore.”

The old Anakin would have called him out for it. Would have screamed and yelled and made a scene. But now? He's just done with it all. He wants it to be over. He wants to be unstuck.

For a long moment, Obi-Wan is silent. So quiet that Anakin almost thinks if he turns his head to look he'll be gone. Alone again. But then Obi-Wan exhales and Anakin is suddenly aware of another body leaning against the railing.

He dares to glance over at him. But Obi-Wan isn't looking at him. He's looking up at the evening sky. His face has crumpled inward, a reflection of Anakin’s grief.

“Perhaps he was unsure if his presence was wanted.”

Anakin swallows a bite of anger. “I'd given him no reason to think he wouldn't be.”

Obi-Wan hesitates and then, “I'm sorry, Anakin.”

He closes his eyes, letting the night air cool against his heated skin. Then he opens them. “Who is she?”

Now Obi-Wan finally turns to look at him. “What?”

“The person you're leaving me for? That's why you didn't come back sooner isn't it?”

Obi-Wan looks shocked. “No! Anakin no I was busy trying to get my life back in order! There's no one!”

“Then why pretend? Why didn't you tell me who you were Ben?” He snaps.

Obi-Wan flinches. “I thought you'd moved on. You're better off without me.”

Anakin laughs coldly. He waves his hands over his head at the house and life in general. “None of us would be better off without you! You saved us! You saved me!”

Anakin wants to tear his hair out. Curse this idiotic self sacrificing man. “Stop thinking about what you think I want and start thinking about what you want! What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

It comes out easily. Surprisingly so. “You, Anakin.”

It shocks them both.

“I want you. Anything you'll give me.”

Anakin shakes, his skin practically vibrating. “I'll give you anything you want, you asshole!”

Their mouths clash as their bodies brace. They moan into the kiss, finally reunited.

(They move to England in a gorgeous mansion and are in love and gross about it. Ahsoka is the best man for Anakin. Ferus bears the rings. Qui-Gon is very proud. He can't stop crying, it's embarrassing.)

27 notes · View notes

exonerin · 14 days ago

Note

Amnesiac oviwan goes crazy

I think this prompt is based on this beautiful artwork by @kirab0sh1, which I reblogged because it's so perfect. It's pretty and flustered Anakin is amazing. I'm a huge fan of the artist anyway, actually. I'm 'feral' for their nyanakin. He's the cutest.

No one has given me a prompt before, so I'll admit I dropped everything else because I'm quite pleased and happy with this. Anyway, here's 4.9k of Obikin (it's also on AO3):

Impulse | Inhibition [Obikin | Fanfic | ✓ ]

Death was part of the war, intricately intertwined like poison ivy suffocating a quaking aspen tree. Those vines had wrapped around Anakin's throat, choking him expertly as he waited. He was a soldier, so he could hurt and harm, but the art of healing was beyond him.

A nameless Padawan stood by his side, wringing their hands. According to the reports, they had volunteered to place the bomb in the droid factory, but Obi-Wan had turned the offer down. The kid would have died if they had gone. So, Obi-Wan had stepped up, unfailingly willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. His former Master was the best Jedi in the Order. A swell of pride caught under the weight lodged in Anakin's throat.

His concern sat heavy on his heart, chilling him to the marrow of his bones.

"General."

Anakin's gaze snapped up from the tips of his boots, meeting the medic's gaze.

"Is he fine?" he rasped, forcing the words past the tendrils wrapped around his throat.

"General Kenobi is awake."

A shaky exhale pushed past Anakin's lips. His knees almost buckled under the weight of his relief as he brushed past the medic into the tent to confirm his words.

Anakin froze on the threshold. Obi-Wan sat on the edge of the bed, adjusting his vambraces without a care in the world. Only hours ago, he had rested in Anakin's arms, a limp weight while the droid factory exploded around them.

"Master," Anakin blurted, the title slipping from his lips. Nerves coalesced in his stomach. He had defied Obi-Wan's direct orders. Would Obi-Wan lecture him for saving his sorry life? Possibly. Would Anakin cry or snap? He hoped for the latter, but the former seemed equally plausible. He couldn't get rid of the weight in his throat.

Obi-Wan straightened and turned to look at him.

"Hello there," he greeted.

Anakin shuffled his feet.

"You're letting a cold draft in, darling," Obi-Wan chided him.

Darling?

Confused, Anakin stepped forward to let the tent's flap fall shut behind him. His body moved automatically, following the implicit order while his mind reeled.

Darling?

"Master?" he asked, his uncertainty dripping from his shivering voice.

"What's wrong, dear one?" Obi-Wan asked him, his expression creasing in concern.

Anakin shook his head minutely, feeling like the world was a fallen mirror. Spidery cracks ran over his reality, distorting the image in subtle ways that made no sense.

"I-- I don't--" he stammered, too befuddled by Obi-Wan calling him 'dear one' like they were enemies on the battlefield to produce a coherent thought.

Obi-Wan slipped from the bed gracefully, not impeded by the life-threatening injuries he had sported. Yet, Anakin still felt his Master's dead weight in his arms.

Obi-Wan crossed the tent with a handful of long strides, crowding Anakin by the entrance. Anakin stood rooted to his spot. The invisible poison ivy has curled around his ankles, fixing him in place. Yet, he still angled his chest away awkwardly.

Obi-Wan smiled, but unlike his typical mild smiles, this one had a cutting edge. This was a razor blade pressed against Anakin's pulse, an explicit threat. Frozen, Anakin blinked, aware that his eyes were so wide they ached.

"Master?" he asked weakly.

Obi-Wan lifted a hand, cupping the side of Anakin’s throat, covering the fluttering pulse point.

"You keep calling me your Master, dearest," he pointed out.

Anakin blinked.

Ah.

Here was the lecture on defying direct orders from his superior on the battlefield. Sullenly, he dropped his gaze.

"You know I saved your life," he grumbled.

"Did you now, darling?" Obi-Wan asked. Confused, Anakin's gaze flicked to Obi-Wan's eyes. "Thank you, my dear," Obi-Wan purred. "That's very sweet of you. Shouldn't be surprised when you're so pretty, though. You look so sweet with your golden curls, pouty lips, and large, blue, doe-like eyes."

"Oh," Anakin sighed.

"Beautiful."

The thumb of the head cupping the side of his throat moved, brushing over his Adam's apple. Obi-Wan repeated the movement, petting his throat, and Anakin's mind shorted. His mind blank and devoid of thoughts, he gawked at Obi-Wan.

"Am I your Master, darling?" Obi-Wan asked, emphasizing each word with a slow, burning brush over Anakin's throat. Nerves sparked under the touch. Anakin knew Obi-Wan could feel his fluttering pulse under his palm, revealing how affected Anakin was.

"Yes," Anakin responded breathlessly. "Or you used to be," he amended, aware that he would start blabbering if he didn't shut up. "For eleven years. But you're still my Master."

"Then, you must be mine already," Obi-Wan mused, his roving gaze turning calculating. Obi-Wan's gaze was tangible as it swept over his body, assessing him using a metric Anakin didn't understand.

Appreciation.

"Mine?" Anakin squeaked.

"Mine, indeed," Obi-Wan agreed casually.

Something was dreadfully, terrifyingly wrong, a mental voice noted, drowned out by the static in Anakin's mind. Obi-Wan would never act like this.

"And how lucky I am that someone so sweet, perfect, and oh-so-very-delectable is mine."

Anakin didn't know what his expression revealed. Flustered, he shook his head.

"I'm not perfect," he protested, the words falling from his lips in a warble.

He wasn't prepared. This Obi-Wan overwhelmed him, his voice leaving no room for argument, charming Anakin far more effectively than the politicians and enemies Obi-Wan usually targeted. Each term of endearment made him feel hot, sweat gathering in the small of his back, his nape, where tangled curls rested, and the crooks of his quivering knees.

"Your cheeks are red, dear," Obi-Wan purred. "And the tips of your adorable ears, too."

Anakin squeaked, the sound forced from his lungs, his throat constricting under Obi-Wan's thumb.

"Obi-Wan?" he whispered, his voice breaking on his Master's name.

Obi-Wan titled his head.

"Is that my name, dearest?" Obi-Wan asked him, his voice pitched doting and encouraging. "Would you repeat it for me?"

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, his lips moving around his Master's name soundlessly. Then, another part of Obi-Wan's sentence snagged on his smooth brain, somehow penetrating the white noise.

"You don't remember?"

"Maybe I will if you say my name, darling," Obi-Wan suggested. "And won't you introduce yourself, sweet?"

Anakin swallowed thickly, distracted by the faint pressure of Obi-Wan's thumb.

"Obi-Wan," he said helplessly.

Obi-Wan leaned in closer until the proximity blurred Anakin's vision.

"Again," Obi-Wan said, making the order sound like praise. The word fanned against Anakin's lips, and Anakin couldn't stop his gaze from settling on Obi-Wan's lips, framed by the bristles of his beard. Resisting never occurred to Anakin.

"Obi-Wan," he repeated. It was a breathless whimper, barely audible, but Obi-Wan hummed nonetheless.

"Well done, dear one."

"Obi-Wan," Anakin pleaded.

The flap of the tent rustled behind Anakin. Immediately, Obi-Wan's hand fell away. His Master retreated a few brisk steps, establishing too much space between them. Helplessly, Anakin stared at Obi-Wan. The medic didn't expect Anakin to stand so close to the entrance, bumping into him with a durasteel tray. The impact sent Anakin stumbling further into the tent.

Broad hands grabbed his arms, stabilizing him.

"Careful now, dear."

Helplessly, Anakin's gaze lifted to Obi-Wan's pale blue eyes. Obi-Wan's attention wasn't on him, though. Instead, Obi-Wan studied the medic with a neutral expression. Poison ivy tightened around Anakin's chest, an odd jealousy spreading from the places where its softly barbed tendrils touched bare skin.

"How are you feeling, General?" the medic asked.

"It seems I cannot recall anything," Obi-Wan confessed with a sardonic smile. Amusement laced the statement as if this was barely an inconvenience.

"You sustained a head injury, General. I am confident the memories will return during your recovery," the medic said. "But I must urge you to rest. If you cannot follow my recommendations, I will put you in a bacta tank, General."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Then, I suppose it's imperative that I cooperate," he said. His hands slid from Anakin's arms again, the cold invading the memory of Obi-Wan's palms. Anakin stifled a disappointed sound, though he supposed his feelings were visible in his unguarded expression.

"Thank you for saving my life, dearest," Obi-Wan said. "Allow me to show my appreciation once I'm released from this good man's care."

Anakin knew that all he would be rewarded was a lecture when Obi-Wan's memories returned. His lips pulled into a pout before he could control them.

"Okay," he muttered. "Get well soon, Master."

He turned around, leaving the makeshift medbay on trembling legs. Outside, the Padawan still waited. Anakin brushed past them, the weight lodged in his throat returning.

***.

Bitter disappointment held him in a choke hold, each term of endearment echoing in his mind as he patrolled the perimeter of their temporary camp. If he called the Council to update them on their progress, they would call Anakin back to another battlefield. Anakin was reluctant to leave.

"Anakin."

Anakin stiffened, not daring to glance over his shoulder. Thus, he kept his gaze trained on the dusty planes stretching to the dark horizon. The shadows of sprawling mountain ranges were invisible in the dead of night.

Anakin.

His Master had made a full recovery. Swallowing more inappropriate disappointment, Anakin inhaled deeply. It did little to center him.

"Hello, Master," he said.

Obi-Wan moved to stand by his side, their shoulders almost brushing.

"You remember everything," Anakin pointed out. A bland observation that Anakin hoped hid the barbed, thorny mess of emotions inside his chest. The vines constricted around his beating, bleeding heart, squeezing it harshly. He needed something from Obi-Wan that he had never known, but it had neither name nor shape. It was a ghost of a memory that only existed in amnesia.

"I do," Obi-Wan agreed. "I felt it prudent to discuss what happened."

Anakin exhaled forcefully. "Are you here to lecture me, Obi-Wan?" he demanded. "I saved your life for the eighth time."

He shot Obi-Wan a morose glare, surprised to meet Obi-Wan's gaze.

"Not at all, darling," Obi-Wan said.

Darling.

Anakin almost choked on his saliva. Breathlessly, he stared at Obi-Wan in the dark, wishing he could see Obi-Wan's expression better. Would the dark at least conceal how flustered Anakin felt or the red on his cheeks?

Darling.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said, sounding surprised. "That was a slip of the tongue."

Anakin wet his lips. His mind had screeched to a stop, wiped clean with a single word. His fingers twisted in the leather of his tabard, the gloves creaking to betray his fidgeting.

Darling.

"Also, that would be the seventh time, dear."

Dear.

"Oh," Anakin croaked, too far gone to argue this point.

"Sith-spit. I don't know what's wrong with me. My apologies, Anakin."

Anakin nodded woodenly. His stomach dropped from his body and splattered on the dusty ground.

"You did well, Anakin. You guided us to victory while I was unavailable. I updated the Council on the successful destruction of the droid factory. Tomorrow, we'll receive further directives."

"Thank you, Master."

Anakin inclined his head to hide how pleased the off-hand praise made him.

Darling.

Tension sat in the pit his stomach had left behind.

***.

He had almost forgotten about the slip-up until weeks later when he rejoined Obi-Wan on an unassuming Outer Rim planet. His attempt to sneak behind the Separatist blockade had been... less than successful. Anakin could admit that.

However, he was reluctant to do so when Obi-Wan joined him by the carcass of his spaceship, humming thoughtfully.

"That was an excellent crash landing, dear one."

Anakin's hand fell from the cut on his cheek in disbelief. Behind him, his shuttle still smoked, at risk of exploding. Yet, his legs had turned into jelly. Obi-Wan had called him dear one so offhandedly, and it soothed the black hole in his soul. He hadn’t known he had longed for this until two words had scrambled his brain. Every jumbled thought was encrypted, and Anakin didn’t possess a key.

"The-- They shot me down," he managed haltingly, pointing at the sky where the Separatist blockade glittered like stars in broad daylight.

"I see," Obi-Wan mused. "And it didn't occur to you to stay on the Resolute?"

Anakin shook his head, still struck dumb by the term of endearment.

***.

A few hours plus a scuffle with some battle droids later, it happened again. Anakin was unprepared. He always was.

"You have an awful disposition for throwing yourself in danger, sweet," Obi-Wan lectured him in the makeshift medbay.

Anakin would have shrugged and snapped, but he could only squeak.

"I'm sorry, Master," he said instead. His betrayal at his quick folding must have been visible on his face because Obi-Wan shook his head.

"You aren't in trouble, dear. No need to be so contrite -- though it's a good look on you."

Anakin's jaw dropped.

Obi-Wan looked equally shocked, which morphed into unease.

"My apologies," he sighed. "That was highly unprofessional."

Anakin shook his head weakly. "I don't mind," he stammered. His fingers trembled as he lifted them to touch his hot cheeks.

"Nonetheless, it's uncalled for," Obi-Wan said. "It seems I don't have control over my tongue."

Anakin's gaze flitted to Obi-Wan's lips.

The medic tending to Anakin's newest collection of scraps cleared his throat.

"It may be a consequence of the head trauma you sustained earlier," the medic said.

"I see," Obi-Wan mused. "Well, I will endeavor to be more conscious of what I say."

"Do you call others terms of endearment, too?" Anakin asked. The thought this wasn't just for Anakin hadn't occurred to him, and it was a screwdriver to the heart. His displeasure snuck into his question, twisting the words into a panicked demand.

Obi-Wan paused, his brows furrowing. "Fortunately not," he said after a long pause.

Anakin's shoulders sagged, his relief palpable.

"Okay," he said.

Obi-Wan inclined his head -- it wasn't quite an agreement, but Anakin didn't know how to interpret the gesture otherwise. He couldn't look away from Obi-Wan's face, looking for clues or reassurance.

Obi-Wan swept out the medbay, abandoning Anakin to the medic's care. He didn't return, and when Anakin finally escaped, he had already left with his squadron. They had traveled to the other hemisphere of the planet where Anakin couldn’t intercept Obi-Wan. He blamed his disappointment on the unsatisfactory end of their banter. It couldn’t be anything else.

***.

Although Anakin was eager to see Obi-Wan again, he had somehow lost track of time. He was too late for the mission briefing again. Obi-Wan already believed he showed up late on purpose -- and his Master wasn’t strictly wrong. Swallowing a curse, he sped up, hoping no Jedi would stop him to lecture him on running in the hallowed hallways of the Temple. Obi-Wan would take care of that, and Anakin loathed that their reunion after three missions in different sectors of the galaxy would start with a lecture on tardiness.

"There you are, dear," Obi-Wan said. His exasperation erased any doubt that this was a stern reprimand. Anakin rolled his eyes.

"I know I'm late, but I was held up by--" Anakin's justification for his tardiness withered on his tongue when Master Windu coughed. The Master's bewildered expression gave him pause.

Dear.

Oh.

Oh, well.

"I'm here now," Anakin said when he couldn't recall his excuse. Several council members already crowded the Holo table in the meeting room. Their presence was impossible to ignore. Yet, Anakin couldn't stop staring.

Obi-Wan looked… simultaneously confident and unnerved. Uncertain and resolved.

Dear.

Anakin was the only one who received these terms of endearment.

Mine.

His gaze lowered slowly, bashfulness pulling on the corners of his lips.

"Anakin, love."

Anakin lifted his gaze from the floor, worried about what his eyes revealed but unable to resist the call. Obi-Wan already studied him, his eyebrows rising. Anakin blinked, his cheeks so hot that his eyes stung. Each breath was loud to his ears, drowning every sound but Obi-Wan's voice. A voice that hooked in his guts and tugged.

"Yes, Master?" Anakin's voice was reedy, barely audible despite the great acoustics in these meeting rooms. His throat clenched around emptiness, bringing back memories of Obi-Wan's palm cupping his throat and a thumb petting him.

A cleared throat made Obi-Wan's gaze flick away, but Anakin was frozen. He couldn't turn to check who had produced the sound.

"We will talk about this later, dear one," Obi-Wan warned him. His expression twisted into a grimace when he realized his new slip of the tongue.

"That's unfair," Anakin complained, though his heart wasn't in the complaint. "It's only five minutes, Master."

"Later," Obi-Wan stressed.

***.

While the other Masters left the room, Obi-Wan didn't budge. He leaned back against the edge of the Holo table, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Anakin didn't move either, rooted to his spot halfway to the door. Feeling self-conscious, he watched Master Fisto bring up the rear, smirking at him before closing the door. Slowly, Anakin turned back to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan's expression was neutral, but his eyes were too narrowed, his lips too pursed. Obi-Wan's masks never failed, but… inexplicably, there was a crack.

Perhaps he shouldn't ask-- oh, Anakin definitely shouldn't ask. He licked his lips, the tip of his tongue dragging over chapped lips. Obi-Wan's gaze flickered down before rising again.

"Why do you call me pet names?" he asked.

Obi-Wan sighed, letting his head tip back, and Anakin swallowed dryly. Then, Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, making Anakin's fingers twitch by his side. Thick titian locks spilled between Obi-Wan's fingers.

"Residual effects from my brush with death," he said, a mirthless smile on his face. "I'm experiencing trouble with my impulses and inhibitions."

"Impulses and inhibitions," Anakin parroted, dumbstruck.

"But don't assume I have forgotten why I asked you to stay behind, dear one," Obi-Wan told him sternly.

Anakin knew he blushed furiously.

Impulses and inhibitions, dear one.

"It was only five minutes," he rasped.

Obi-Wan's fingers curled around the table's edge, drawing Anakin's attention to their width. He remembered them wrapped around his throat so gently, stroking him lazily.

"My face is up here," Obi-Wan commented. "Sweet," he added.

Anakin couldn't swallow or stifle an odd noise, caught between a squeak and a sigh.

"Yes, Master," his mouth replied while his mind was tangled in a web of ivy.

"You agree so readily, but have you considered acting on it, dear heart?" Obi-Wan asked when Anakin's gaze remained fixed on Obi-Wan's fingers. A strange hunger coiled in his guts. A yearning too sharp but a craving too soft. "Sometimes, I wonder how you can be so sweet while so obstinate. I shouldn't like it nearly as much as I do when you act out."

Anakin's gaze lifted automatically, traveling higher until he met Obi-Wan's gaze.

Obi-Wan called him sweet. So sweet, his mind supplied helpfully. Obi-Wan liked him, and his expression revealed he hadn't intended to share this much. Perhaps Anakin was in a better position here, capable of keeping his secrets. Nevertheless, he felt woefully unprepared and so embarrassingly timid in the face of praise. His sharp, brittle pride was softened, molded, by the aggrieved fondness in Obi-Wan's expression.

"And now, you aren't even gloating," he said softly. Anakin knew this couldn't purely be a lack of impulse control. This was Obi-Wan -- all of it was Obi-Wan, but it was…

"Your reactions make it easier to swallow this inconvenience," Obi-Wan said. Of course, Anakin's Master would refer to his permanent injury as a trifle.

"My reactions?" Anakin asked though he didn't want to know the answer.

Obi-Wan shrugged.

Obi-Wan's hands fell away from the edge of the Holo table, and Anakin swallowed thickly.

The first step Obi-Wan took, heading in his direction, Anakin didn't move.

Then, Obi-Wan took a second one with purpose, and Anakin mirrored him. Another step and Anakin retreated further, balancing awkwardly on his heels.

"Obi-Wan?" he asked hesitantly. "Are you having more problems with your impulse control? Because this looks like a very bad idea."

His emphasis on the last three words made Obi-Wan grin -- though it was closer to a smirk. A shiver ran down Anakin's spine, prompted by excitement for something he couldn't identify.

"I think it's an excellent idea, dear," Obi-Wan said, the term of endearment almost a caress.

"Oh," Anakin sighed, forgetting to retreat further. After a handful of steps, Obi-Wan stopped in front of him.

"So, what are we doing?" Anakin asked weakly, his attempt at bravado failing spectacularly.

"We were talking about your reactions, darling," Obi-Wan said, his voice almost a purr.

Anakin's eyes widened impossibly.

Obi-Wan reached for him, and Anakin waited with bated breath. His eyes slipped shut when Obi-Wan's hand curled around his left cheek, its presence soothing. He breathed slowly, poorly stifling a pleased hum.

"Anakin."

Startled, Anakin opened his eyes. Belatedly, he realized he was nuzzling Obi-Wan's palm, the burrowing a source of calm and quiet. Slowly, dread filling the quiet, he focused on Obi-Wan. What would he find in Obi-Wan's expression?

Humiliation seized Anakin when he met Obi-Wan's astonished expression. Unable to sustain the eye contact that laid a claim on Anakin's soul, he lowered his chin, dislodging the palm resting against his left cheek.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan repeated. Although the urge to look up was near-irresistible, Anakin gritted his teeth and focused on the tips of their boots. They stood close, but it had seemed so much closer while he had looked into Obi-Wan's eyes.

"Don't be embarrassed, dear," Obi-Wan said, his voice pitched excruciatingly gently. His Coruscanti accent wrapped around the term of endearment. A finger curled under his chin to help him tip his chin back up. Anakin could have pulled away or resisted Obi-Wan's guiding touch.

Instead, his lips went slack, and his eyes flicked up before his face did. Obi-Wan looked as powerless as Anakin felt.

"Is this an impulse?" Anakin asked, his voice a soft whisper.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Premeditated," he said.

"You want..." Completing this sentence was too mortifying; it left Anakin open to rejection. And Anakin feared rejection, the shame of humiliation his undoing.

"I want you, Anakin," he said. "And maybe I never realized until I couldn't stop calling you mine despite my reservations and better judgment."

"But you didn't remember me when you said that, Master."

"And that's the source of this problem, dear. I would never have addressed you so otherwise. And once I saw your reactions, I couldn't forget."

Anakin nodded earnestly, pressing his chin against Obi-Wan's finger.

"Because you are beautiful," Obi-Wan said. "Angelic, really."

Angelic. Anakin's Master had called him beautiful and angelic so casually. While Anakin stewed in flustered embarrassment and timid vanity, Obi-Wan sounded unaffected. His eyes pierced Anakin, picking him apart like his honeyed words.

Anakin swallowed thickly, aware that his cheeks felt hot.

"I can't forget anymore," Obi-Wan confessed. "You stepped into that tent, and I knew I had to have this beautiful man. I knew I wouldn't know rest until I kissed those lips you bit raw so carelessly and wrapped my hands around your waist."

Anakin spluttered, suddenly hyper-aware of his chapped lips and the utility belt snatching the fabric of his tabard around his waist.

"And for weeks, I haven't known rest," Obi-Wan said.

Anakin wet his lips unconsciously, growing even more overheated when Obi-Wan's gaze dropped to his lips.

The hand slipped from Anakin's chin, telling him he had moved first. He pressed closer, bridging those last few centimeters until his fists balled in the lapels of Obi-Wan's tabard. A shuddering sigh escaped him, tension and nerves set free.

Then, their lips brushed in a fleeting, feather-soft touch. It almost tickled, his lips tingling under the touch and the knowledge that his lips touched Obi-Wan.

Anakin gasped against Obi-Wan's lips, who moved to place a kiss on the tip of Anakin's nose.

"Is this okay, dear heart?"

"Yes," Anakin said solemnly. The word twisted into a promise, its gravity making Obi-Wan lean in again.

"That's a relief."

Anakin hummed in agreement, his gaze on Obi-Wan's lips as they shaped around the words. He wanted them to move against his.

"Because I've wanted to do this for weeks."

Obi-Wan's hand ran through his curls, tightening around his hair to angle his head. Breathlessly, Anakin waited, his heart pounding in the hollow of his throat in anticipation.

"You're silent, dear."

"I'm waiting," Anakin protested, aware of how each word fanned against Obi-Wan's lips. The negligible sliver of space between them seemed to drag on for miles. Why were these last centimeters impossible to cross?

"Patience," Obi-Wan reprimanded.

Shocked, Anakin's jaw dropped.

Patience?

Did Obi-Wan lecture him while trying to kiss him?

When Obi-Wan moved in, Anakin leaned back, his throat arching impossibly. His head rested fully in Obi-Wan's hand, pressing against the fingers. The tendons in his throat strained uncomfortably, but the discomfort was forgotten when he met Obi-Wan's puzzled expression.

"Patience," he challenged.

Obi-Wan chuckled, and Anakin's stomach flipped several times. Dizzy, Anakin blinked, feeling ridiculously proud of making Obi-Wan laugh.

While maintaining eye contact for as long as possible, Obi-Wan lowered his mouth to Anakin's throat. The first open-mouthed kiss against the stretched column of his throat made Anakin squeak. An undignified, high-pitched noise that made Obi-Wan nibble on the skin.

He gasped as Obi-Wan kissed a trail up his throat, his hot tongue mapping out a path that meandered endlessly.

His journey took Obi-Wan to a sensitive area under Anakin's ear.

"May I kiss you, darling?" he asked, his voice softer than a whisper, a breath against spit-slick skin.

Anakin grunted. "Uh-uh," he managed. Obi-Wan straightened while Anakin remained arched back, balanced only by the hand in his hair supporting his weight.

Obi-Wan's eyes were heavy-lidded as he observed Anakin. Nervously, Anakin wet his lips, worried about how chapped they were.

But Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind.

His free hand moved to Anakin's lips, tracing over them with the pad of his thumb. Then, his hands moved to Anakin's back, helping him balance.

A wounded sound escaped Anakin. He hadn't assumed a touch between his shoulder blades would feel so intimate, but Obi-Wan's palm resting proprietary between his shoulder blades seared. He hadn't known so many nerve endings lined his spine, but they all sang. He bucked in Obi-Wan's hold, so distracted by the touch that he missed Obi-Wan leaning over him.

"It's okay, dear," Obi-Wan shushed.

Anakin produced an incoherent sound, his gaze flicking to Obi-Wan's face. Proximity blurred the details, but he could still see Obi-Wan's eyes before his own slipped shut.

Obi-Wan's lips slid smoothly over his, barely catching on Anakin's moist, chapped lips. After an endless moment, Obi-Wan's tongue replaced his lips, tracing a familiar path over Anakin's lips. Obi-Wan mirrored him, but the sensation was incomparable.

Because it was Obi-Wan.

Anakin's hands balled tighter in Obi-Wan's tabard, probably wrinkling the material beyond salvaging. The thought of leaving a mark satisfied him. Paradoxically, his heart slowed. It was easy to let Obi-Wan lead, giving and yielding but taking when Obi-Wan offered.

When Obi-Wan's lips pressed against the seam of his mouth, requesting access, Anakin responded eagerly. Yet, Obi-Wan pulled away again, watching him intently. He smiled warmly, and Anakin tried to return a smile.

A soft kiss landed on his cheeks, which burnt hot under Obi-Wan's lips. Anakin suspected he was redder than ever, a suspicion confirmed by Obi-Wan's single-minded focus on his cheeks.

"Kiss me?" Anakin asked, his lips moving over Obi-Wan's jawline, brushing through his beard, which was coarse against his tingling lips. Obi-Wan froze. Then, he moved to Anakin's lips faster than before.

Anakin sighed in relief or wonder, allowing Obi-Wan free access. His lips were still too slack, his mouth unresponsive, but Obi-Wan caught his bottom lip anyway, worrying the sensitive flesh between his lips and tongue. Obi-Wan's fist uncurled in his hand, cupping the back of his head instead. The hand on his back pressed Anakin closer, crushing Anakin's fists between their bodies. Remembering the existence of his hands, Anakin reached for Obi-Wan's face, letting his fingers run through Obi-Wan's beard.

Against his lips, Obi-Wan's beard was coarse, but the bristles were soft underneath his calloused fingers. Fascinated, Anakin mapped Obi-Wan's face blindly. Obi-Wan hummed, the sound vibrating in Anakin's body.

He responded with a wounded sound, his hands slipping away when Obi-Wan deepened the kiss impossibly, his tongue inside Anakin's mouth, roving over his teeth and flicking against the tip of Anakin's tongue. The tip, which Anakin always used to wet his lips when he was nervous. Their tongues were impossibly wet against each other, although Anakin's mouth had felt dry before.

Time turned syrupy, mimicking Obi-Wan's movements as he guided Anakin through the kiss. Obi-Wan was thorough in his mapping of Anakin's mouth, slow and steady. Leaning back in Obi-Wan's hold made the blood rush to his head, but Anakin barely noticed until Obi-Wan guided him upright, running his hands through Anakin's hair. Anakin's lips moved around nothing, the broken pattern tugging on his staticky mind and stomach.

Disoriented, utterly discombobulated, Anakin let him, almost whining in frustration or disappointment when Obi-Wan's hands fell to his sides. Anakin panted as if he had run a marathon. He blinked at Obi-Wan, his confusion probably visible in his expression, making Obi-Wan laugh. A deep, hoarse sound of amusement that rumbled against Anakin. Anakin's stomach clenched helplessly.

"Hello there, beautiful," Obi-Wan said.

It was so utterly unfair that Anakin could go even redder in the face, and he knew the red had likely migrated to his ears, the tip of his nose, and the hollow of his throat, too.

#obikin #ao3 fanfic #obikin fanfic #writing prompt #thank you for this prompt anon

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