#obi-wan: and did anakin teach you how to knock on doors?

[tennessoui]

Sooo I know you have another essay to write buuuut when you have time, could you do #25? Please and thank you!!!

Good luck with getting your essay done!! 🥰

here you go!

[from this list of prompts]

[2. 'have you lost your damn mind?' - 5. 'are you jealous' - 13. 'kiss me.' - 14. 'hey, i'm with you, okay? always.' - 18. 'this is the stupidest plan you've ever had. of course i'm in.' - 19. 'the paint is supposed to go where?' - 22. 'i've seen the way you look at me when you think i don't notice' (LATEST) - 24. 'you're the only one i trust to do this' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 28. 'marry me?' - 29. 'i thought you were dead' - 32. 'i think i'm in love with you and i'm terrified' - 37. 'wanna dance?' - 44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you' - 41. 'you did all of this for me?' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

25. 'i can't believe you talked me into this.'

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Barriss mutters under her breath, far too loudly for Ahsoka's comfort.

"If you keep grumbling, he's gonna hear us from parsecs away," Ahsoka snaps, pushing against her arm. "And I didn't talk you into anything. We're just bringing Master Kenobi a slice of honey cake for his Temple Day."

"You talked me into wearing this stupid hat," Barriss points out, gesturing up to the cone atop her head. "And waking up at 0500 to do this."

"It's not my fault he likes to wake early," Ahsoka sniffs and adjusts her own coned hat. She'd looked it up. It's a Stewjoni birthday tradition, and since Jedi don't really mark their birthdays, given that many birthdays aren't known or precisely documented, she thinks it's alright to mix traditions in the name of celebration.

It's Master Obi-Wan's Temple Day, which means that one hundred years ago--or, apparently, thirty-seven to be exactly--on this day, Master Kenobi was brought to the Temple and adopted by the Jedi.

"I don't even like Master Kenobi all that much," Barriss says, and Ahsoka elbows her.

Probably the first and most important lesson her master ever taught her is that everyone likes Master Kenobi. To suggest otherwise is highly dangerous if Master Skywalker's in hearing range.

"Shut up, yes you do," Ahsoka says and pushes the cake plate into her friend's hand so that she can study the lockpad outside Master Kenobi's door. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be bringing him cake at 0500 on his Temple Day. Now be quiet, I'm trying to remember what digits Skyguy uses to gain access."

It'd help the most if Skyguy had answered the twenty comms she'd sent him last night, when she'd thought up her surprise for Master Kenobi's Temple day. But he hadn't even opened them. If it weren't for their training bond, Ahsoka wouldn't even know he was alive. They've been on Coruscant for three days, and she hasn't seen him since de-boarding.

She thinks maybe he and Senator Amidala made up, though she's not supposed to know about that. Not about their fight, not about their relationship. Her master thinks she's too young to hear about any of it, even though she's still got eyes.

It'd surprise her if they did get back together, from what Ahsoka's pieced together, but nothing else explains Anakin's absence.

But anyway.

It would be so much easier if Anakin were with her, because Anakin knows the code to get into Master Kenobi's quarters like he knows everything else about Master Kenobi.

But part of the reason Ahsoka's gone to all the trouble of finding the coned hats and making the honey cake--from scratch!--and roping Barriss in to help her with the whole thing is that if Anakin has gotten back together with Padmé, he's liable to forget all about Master Kenobi's Temple day, and Master Kenobi is liable to get really sad about it.

So Ahsoka is here, just in case Anakin remains...indisposed. It's what Master Kenobi deserves. He's a great Grandmaster. Some would probably even say he takes on a lot of master-like duties when it comes to teaching Ahsoka, and Ahsoka wouldn't argue. It's sort of nice to have two masters who look after her and encourage her to become the best Jedi she can be, even though that also means she has two masters who enjoy nagging at her all the time.

"Oh!" she says as the lockpad beside the door flashes green and opens. "Huh. That's funny."

"What?" Barriss asks, holding the cake plate in front of her like it's a shield.

"Oh, the doorpad code is Anakin's Temple day," Ahsoka says as she steps through the door. "It's ironic is all, that--Skyguy?"

"Ahsoka!?" Her master is in the kitchen unit. In Master Obi-Wan's kitchen unit. At 0500 in the morning.

And...shirtless?

"Master, put on a shirt!" Ahsoka yelps, turning her face away and covering her eyes. Beside her, Barriss makes a noise of disgust. "What are you even doing here? Naked?"

"Me?" Anakin's voice is high-pitched and far too loud for what had been a quiet morning. His words are accompanied by the sounds of a scramble around the area. Ahsoka doesn't even want to know what her master is doing. "Me--what are you doing here? It's not even 0600!"

"It's Master Obi-Wan's Temple day!" Ahsoka cries back, risking a peek over her fingers. Anakin has found and clothed himself in a striped and frilly yellow apron, which--well, it'll have to be do. "But why are you standing naked in Master Obi-Wan's kitchen unit?"

Barriss coughs. "Ahsoka, I think--we should probably..."

Anakin's face is beet red, and it grows to a worrying shade of purple when there's a clatter from further in the quarters. "I'm...uh. I was making Obi-Wan breakfast," he says.

"There's no food out," Ahsoka points out.

"I spilled it on myself," Anakin snaps. "So obviously, I took off my shirt because it had food on it, and how do you know the code to Obi-Wan's quarters anyway, padawan?"

Ahsoka glares back at him. "Show me the shirt," she demands.

"Ahsoka, really, I think we should go," Barriss says right as Anakin begins to bluster about laundry chutes and steaming clothes or something.

"Anakin?" Master Obi-Wan's voice calls, sounding confused. "What's taking so long, darli--"

"Your grandpadawan's here!" Anakin sounds shrill. He looks--

Ahsoka peers closer at him now that the shock of his presence has begun to wear off. He looks relatively freshly mauled.

"With her friend!" Anakin adds. His eyes dart between Ahsoka, Barriss, the cake, and the door. "They wanted to surprise you!"

Five long moments pass before the door at the end of the hall opens and Master Obi-Wan emerges, sleep clothes clearly rumpled and robe thrown on in a hurry. There's a worrying flush on his cheeks as well, and Ahsoka has never seen his hair so mussed up. "Oh," he says, looking between Ahsoka and Barris, and Anakin and his...apron. "Well, I am. Ah. Very surprised, padawan. Thank you."

Ahsoka nods at Anakin: this is more the reaction she'd expected. "Happy Temple Day, Master Obi-Wan," she tells him and then blinks at him, as he comes further into the light. "You have a bruise on your neck, Master," she tells him. "Was it from a fight?"

Barriss makes a distressed sound at the same time that Anakin does.

"Oh," Master Obi-Wan says, hand flying unerringly to the spot and covering it with his fingers. "It must have been, yes. I was in the training salles yesterday. I'll apply bacta on it this morning."

"I didn't want to do this," Barriss informs them, thrusting the cake plate back into Ahsoka's hands. "And I apologize for being here."

"I'm sorry you're here too," Ahsoka thinks her master mutters.

"Nonsense," Master Obi-Wan says. "Cake, anyone? It looks lovely, Ahsoka."

[thatbxolivia]

you’d been acting like a brat all day.

anakin hated using that word, really, he did. you were a kind and good hearted soul, but today you were acting like a brat.

you fought him getting up, you refused breakfast, whined all day, kept talking back, and to top it all off, you were rude to obiwan when he tried to give you a hug!

anakin had enough.

“get in the house.” he said sternly, closing the door behind you. you muttered under your breath about how stupid this all was and how you were a big girl and he couldn’t tell you what to do. “say it again, y/n.” he said, not using a nickname. you hung your head low and shuffled inside, going into your room and locking the door behind you. you threw your bag across the room and screamed. you didn’t know why you were being this way today either, but now daddy hated you. you heard quick footsteps coming to you and daddy tried to open the door, sighing when it was locked. “absolutely not, open the door. you know better!” he said, raising his voice slightly, knocking. “y/n, you know the rules, this door stays unlocked, always!” he banged on the door again. you unlocked it and tried to shove him out. “absolutely not.” he muttered, man handling you to turn around and bend over the bed. “keep going.” he taunted, holding you over the bed with your hands behind your back. “what’s gotten into you?” he questioned, genuinely concerned. you were getting a punishment, that wasn’t up for debate, but he still wanted to know so he could maybe make you feel better.

“i don’t know!” you sobbed. “let me go!” you cried, kicking. daddy used his knee to hold your legs down, forcing you to be still.

“you need to breathe.” was all he said, sighing. he loved you so much and he would never leave you but this was becoming an issue. he had a feeling you’d gone off your meds again, and he was seeing now that this was something you needed him to manage for you. this was an issue, like he said, and he needed to correct it. he would do so by handing out medication for you and dispensing it when needed. but before that, he had to correct your attitude. your medicine, or lack thereof, explained your behavior but it did not excuse it. “what’d you do today?”

“i was mean.” you whined. daddy nodded.

“what else? you’re not getting off that easy.” he said.

“i was mean to obi wan, i was mean to you, and i fought you on everything.” you cried. you hated punishments because you were always convinced daddy hated you afterwards.

“wasn’t very nice, was it?” he asked you rubbing the side of your hip soothingly.

“no, daddy.” you sniffled. he sighed, not really wanting to punish you but it would teach you that you could get away with these things if he didn’t. he began pulling your skirt up and gave you fifteen hard slaps on your backside, causing you to cry out. by the last one, he himself felt like an ass for making you cry. he let your skirt fall back down.

“hey, come here.” he said, pulling you back up. you had tears in your eyes and reached out for your daddy. he pulled you in for a hug, rubbing your back. “i love you.” he told you, your head in the corner of his neck.

“you hate me!” you wailed.

“i could never.” he said, rubbing your back some more. he cupped the back of your head and made you look at him. you were hiccuping and crying and your daddy’s heart broke looking at you. “i could never hate you.” he said again. “i love you so much, i do this because i know you’re a good girl and punishments will correct your behavior. you’re still a good girl even if you make mistakes. if you weren’t good, you wouldn’t learn, so i wouldn’t bother. yeah?” he said, and he made sense. you were just still upset and embarrassed. your daddy knew this and brushed hair out of your face. “please don’t hide from me, i love you so much.” he told you. you sniffled and nodded.

“i get scared you hate me.” you choked out.

“i could never hate you.” he repeated. “never. you are the love of my life, i could never feel anything for you aside from complete and utter love.” he said.

“it’s so hard to remember.” you said. “i’m so sure.” you said, feeling kind of crazy for having all these emotions.

“have you been taking your meds?” daddy asked calmly. you sobbed and shook your head. “it’s okay, there’s no need to cry, baby.” he told you. “daddy’s gonna manage those from now on and hopefully that’ll make you feel better. and daddy isn’t upset at all. nor do i blame you, so please don’t think that. i love you so much.” he pleaded with you. you shook from crying, unable to look up. you were still embarrassed. “you’re still my perfect girl.” he said, giving you a hug.

“daddy, i love you. i’m sorry about today.”

“it’s okay, baby. daddy knows and he understands why. everything is okay.” he promised you, giving you one more hug. “let’s get you into a bath, will that help you calm down?” he suggested and you nodded. he quickly got you undressed and into the bathroom as he ran the water. he hugged you, keeping you warm.

“daddy, will you get in with me?” you asked, shy.

“of course i will, you sure?” he asked and you nodded. “okay, baby, you got it.” he said, undressing himself. as the water got close enough, he helped you in then got in behind you, the two of you sitting in the tub. “i know we cleaned you this morning but i figured the hot water would still help you.” he said, kissing your shoulder blade. you sat in the large tub between his legs and nodded. “what else are you thinking about?” he asked.

“i just don’t want obiwan to hate me either.” you said and daddy shook his head.

“obi wan understands you were grumpy today and he knows not to take it personal. i will explain to him what happened with the medication and that’ll make him understand everything. really, it’ll be okay.” daddy reassured you.

“okay, i believe you.”

“good girl.” he said, rubbing your back. you laid back and listened to his heartbeat for a few moments. he held you just above the water, making you feel secure. a few moments passed and he began lathering up a sponge. he gently put your hair up then washed your back, arms, and legs. he rinsed you off quick and the two of you sat there a brief moment before getting out. “i do want to say something.” daddy stopped you. you got quiet and looked. “you know i love you. and i’m never leaving. but don’t hit me, baby.” he told you, looking at you. “don’t hit me when i’m just trying to help.” you were about to ask what he was talking about but you remembered shoving him and kicking him and began crying.

“I’m sorry.”

“hey, i know you are. and i’ve already forgiven you. i’m not judging you, i just want you to know it can’t happen again. this is a safe space for both of us, that means me, too.”

“i know, daddy, i’m sorry.” you sniffled.

“it’s okay, baby. daddy understands why it happened and you know i forgive you.” he promised, pulling you in for a small hug. “i have never loved someone so much. please don’t think i’m mad, i’m not, it just can’t happen again.” he told you, setting his boundary. you nodded, trying not to take it personal. you knew he had every reason to ask you to not hit him, so why were you so upset?

“okay…” you trailed off as he helped you out of the water and wrapped you up.

“no, none of that, tell me what’s on your mind.” he said, wrapping a towel around his waist. and you did, you told him exactly what you were thinking.

“i’m trying not to take criticism so personally… and it’s not even criticism… i know you have the right to ask me not to hit you but i’m upset still and i don’t know why, daddy.” you cried, upset at being upset. his expression softened and he pulled you in for another hug.

“you’re embarrassed.” was all he said. “you’re embarrassed about earlier today and just now and it’s making you feel shameful. you don’t need to feel that way, though. i love you, obi wan loves you, everything is going to be okay.” he said, wiping your tears. you nodded, shaking from the crying. “come on, sweet girl.” he maneuvered you out to the bedroom and got you dressed after applying lotion, then dressed himself. he left momentarily and came back on the phone, talking to obiwan.

“yeah, we’ve had a hard day today.” your daddy said, referring to the two of you. “do you have a moment?”

“of course i have a moment for her, put her on.” you heard obiwan say. he didn’t sound mad at all.

“hi.” you said softly, picking at your thumb with your free hand before daddy stopped you. you sighed.

“hi, little one. your daddy told me about the meds, how do you feel?”

“sad.”

“well, that won’t do. that’s no good.”

“feel stupid, obi wan.” you said, sniffling.

“don’t feel stupid. people forget medicine all the time. you have a lot on your plate and you’re just a little one, it’s good anakin will watch over for you.” obiwan said. you nodded, knowing he was right.

“i’m sorry for being mean, obiwan.” you sniffled, beginning to cry again. daddy started to rub your back again.

“hey, hush now. everything is okay, i forgive you.” obiwan said. you breathed a sigh of relief, happy you didn’t lose your friend. “i think it’s time for you to take your nap, how about we all go for dinner when you’re up? will that make you feel better?”

“can i have a hug when i see you?” you asked.

“you can have two.” he told you, chuckling. you laughed a little, too.

“thank you. i love you.”

“i love you too, kiddo. both of you, we’ll talk later.” he promised and hung up. you handed the phone back to daddy.

“we see obiwan tonights?” you asked. your daddy laughed and nodded. “after i nap?”

“yes, baby. after you nap.” he said, tucking you in and handing you your stuffed bear. it was actually an old toy of anakin’s and he had repurposed it for you. you loved it.

“i love you, daddy.” you said, smiling.

“i love you, baby. so much.” he said, kissing your forehead and turning off the lights. “want daddy to nap with you?”

“yes please.” you said. he got in next to you and you snuggled up, on his chest, legs tangled together. your favorite sleeping position.

“you know i’m gonna be around forever, right? i’m not going anywhere.” he told you, kissing you on the lips. you smiled and nodded.

“i won’t go anywhere either.” you promised.

“good.” he whispered, kissing your forehead this time. “go to bed. i promise i’ll be here when you wake up.” he told you.

and you fell asleep, safe and feeling secure.

[majorproblems77]

Something different for you today!

So for those who dont know, I am a Star Wars fan and have been for a very long time. I follow a Star Wars AU @high-fantasy-sw by @margindoodles2407. Which is basically what if we took Star Wars and put it on the sea with magic and alchemy.

And in light of her releasing the information about the clone rings I've written something up for it. (and it is changed a little, have fun with this one margin) - If you want to know more the post is here!

In fact, I wrote this in an hour while talking to her about it a few days ago haha.

I'm sorry it turned out this way - A high-fantasy Star Wars short story

A knock at the door rose Anakin's head from his desk. His eyes were still fixed on the twin blades which now lay lifeless in front of him. These were Ahsoka's blades, the green Kyber crystal in their hilts still shining with her life force. Though their wielder was now who knows where on the high sea.

He missed her.

A knock sounded again.

He could ignore it. Drown in his sorrows. As much as Obi-Wan would not approve. As much as his teachings told him that emotion and attachment were bad. But it was persistent. How were they supposed to form bonds with their padawans but not... Not...

That knocking really was persistent.

"Who is it?" He sounded to the wind. If it was urgent they'd have called for him. Unless this was the call for him.

"It's me. Uhh. Rex. Sir." Ahh, the captain. He didn't turn to the door, his eyes remained fixed in front of him. The memories of years of trials and battles sitting on the edge of his mind.

Maybe it was important If the captain had come down himself. He paused. "You have your orders captain, please leave me be."

"With all due respect Sir. I dont think thats the best idea right now. Can i come in?" The captain's voice was persistent. The sound of glass clinking softly echoed softly through the cramped quarters. Ahsoka's quarters…

"Rex." He warned gently. He did not want to do this right now. "Please, not right now."

"Anakin." The sound of glass clinked again. "Please."

That made his eyes widen. As he turned to the door. The captain never. Never used his name. That was grounds for disciplinary. That was grounds for…. He. He wouldn't have...

He really needed a friend right now.

Damit, he hated that the captain was so insistent.

Like she was....

"Come in." He said, turning away from the door again to face the lightsabers placed carefully on the table. Through the corner of his eye, he could see the clone. He was dressed down, his eyes red and puffy as he stood in the doorway for a moment.

He'd been crying.

He was holding a small tray two small opaque glasses sat on top of it. He took a breath and entered slowly. Gently placing the tray on the table where the general was sitting.

"We. We heard. We know about the commander." The captain's voice was surprisingly steady for someone who looked like he did. Puffy cheeks stained. Cheeks fading from red. "Are... Are you okay?"

Anakin lowered his head as he gripped his hands tighter against the table. That was all the response the clone captain needed.

"You know about the chain. right?" The captain asked quietly, crouching beside him. Placing a hand, his right hand. Against the table. A sign of support. Much more than anyone at the Temple would have given him.

"I do." He said, raising his eyes slightly. Still not looking at the other man in the room. He shuffled on his feet slightly into a more comfortable position.

"Then you know about why we paint them."

He did. It was a way for them to honour the ones they'd lost. He'd only seen the chain itself once when Rex had heard about Echo. The commander was devastated and had holed himself up in his quarters for several hours.

When he'd gone to check up on him, he'd found the captain painting a chainlink blue.

"I… I want to. Paint this section here." He pointed to his right hand, in the middle of the back of his hand. "Green."

"Rex." Anakin stumbled on the name, he knew what that meant to the men of his battalion. They were a sentimental bunch, Rex most of all. Having painted the segments around his wrist the colour of his battalion a hundred times over for the men he lost and would continue to lose. The middle section of the chain had always remained the steely grey from basic training.

He'd always said he wanted to leave that for him, and later on Ahsoka. "It's the only thing we have thats ours." The captain continued to look at his gloved hand As if looking at the chain beneath it. "I wanted to get your permission to get the colour. I want it to be right."

"Rex…"

"The others have asked too." The captain looked to the air above him. Blinking tears from his eyes. "But we didn't want to overwhelm you."

"I… Rex." He took a shaky breath. it was quite the honour for the clone captain to ask this of him. But they didn't have access to paint on the high seas. There was no green packed. Only blue.

"Rex, I dont know how the colour matching works." He turned away from the captain. "The only paint we have onboard is blue."

"Kik's told me how to match from clear." The captain tapped the jar on the left-hand side. "It won't leave anything behind. I won't even touch it."

He sat on that information for longer than he would have liked. Ahsoka had been the last person to ignite these blades. She was attuned to their very presence. To pull a colour match from them would be like she was here for just one more moment.

"Okay… Okay…"

Rex placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm sure." He turned "Just do it fast before I change my mind."

The captain picked up a brush and gently placed it into the first glass, a clear substance dripped from the brush slowly. Placing the brush near the kyber crystal in the hilt allowed the blade to shimmer for just a moment before the brush echoed its colour. Shining a bright green before he placed it back into the jar. Mixing it as the substance changed from clear to green.

"The captain picked up the jar and inspected the colour of the paint inside it. happy with his work he placed it down slowly. "Sir?"

"Yes."

"I… I want to be here. If that's okay."

His breath hitched. As the captain offered the brush to him. He took it silently as he removed the glove from his hand. The chain of brotherhood on the captain's hand stood as a still canvas as he looked down at it.

The colours on it shifted in the candlelight as the captain placed his hand on the table bedside him. Quickly passing the brush back to the captain, who placed the brush gently on the chainlinks. Passing paint across them gently.

Anakin watched silently. He'd only seen a handful of his men paint the chains that adorned their hands like this. Rex only once. When he'd lost Echo. It was a hugely important part of their mismatched culture. One of the things that made them unique in an army where you all look the same.

"Rex you dont have to do this in front of me. I know that it's important." Anakin sat upright as the captain continued to paint.

"Sir. You and the commander mean the world to me. It wouldn't be right to do this alone. Not like… not like…" A sniff gave away the captain's true feelings as he gripped the brush tighter. his hand shaking as his breath hitched.

He never thought he'd be painting this section. He never wanted to paint this section. After a few silent minutes, he placed the brush down. raising his hand to inspect the chain and the rapidly drying paint.

Pulling his wrist into his chest he gave a shaky breath. His arm trembling as he looked to the Jedi who remained in place. "For what it's worth Sir." He said, turning to the door. "I'm sorry it turned out this way."

"So am I rex. So am I."

[rainintheevening]

Qui and Padme, 18

Beru and Padme, 16

100 ways to say ILY

Let's start with Qui-Gon and Padmé. This is set in my Promises of Fools AU.

Uh, this got long. Sorry, Adi. There's some angst, but mostly just the usual home front in a war angst.

18. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better."

For a long time Qui-Gon had disdained a gimer-stick of his own, but a hand-carved present from Anakin had been too much of a kindness to pass off, and now he was grateful for it.

Less for something to lean on while walking, and more for something to lean on while standing. Or sitting. Or rising.

He could feel it in his abdomen—the mended muscles giving out, the Nubian-made organs degrading inside him. Waves of pain or nausea were common, and only his connection with the Force and certain mental tricks helped him manage.

Qui-Gon was dying, and he wasn't going to hide from that reality any longer.

Today, he sat quietly in a highbacked cushioned chair, running his hands over the polished stick's grooves and ridges: The different constellations of four-point stars that Anakin had shyly explained meant certain blessings on Tatooine. Three specific lightsabers. The Jedi crest. The Nubian crest. Abstract swirls of carving that filled in some of the gaps. A few words carved in Aurebesh.

It was almost a meditative exercise by now. Eyes closed, fingers sliding from one design to the next as he counted them off, and turned the stick on his knee. And always something fresh to catch his attention, some part of this complex outpouring of Anakin’s love to be seen in a new way.

His commlink beeped, startling him slightly.

Opening his eyes, Qui-Gon glanced over to the desk in the corner of his sitting room, and called the comm to his hand.

"Yes?"

"Qui-Gon." The familiar voice of a Temple guard. "Lady Skywalker is here to see you. She seemed distressed, so I sent her up to your apartment."

"Ah." Qui-Gon wrinkled his brow. "Thank you, my friend."

Absently, he thumbed the comm off, and returned it to the desk with a flick of his wrist. Padmé distressed? Either she had faced something difficult in her day's work, or she had war news. Possibly both.

Qui-Gon stayed as closely connected to Obi-Wan and Anakin as he could, but even with their own encrypted comm channel, courtesy of R2-D2, there were weeks when they would be silent, when all Qui-Gon could do was sift through the news on the HoloNet, and trust in the Force to guide his thoughts. Qui-Gon wasn't even technically a Jedi anymore. He wasn't essential to the war effort, though he did what he could, little as it had become. Working with the younglings and the junior padawans left behind to learn and train, trying to mitigate the toll taken by the long separations from their masters. There were so few Jedi left to teach these days.

With a sigh, Qui-Gon set the tip of his gimer stick against the rug, levered himself to his feet with a single, smooth motion.

Whatever was wrong, he knew the first order of business was a cup of tea.

The Anakin-improved electric kettle had just begun to boil when the knock came at Qui-Gon's front door.

"Come in," he called, leaning on the worktop as he measured crumbled Naris-Bud into an infuser. It was one of Padmé's favourites.

He looked over as the door slid open, took in the light flush in Padmé's cheeks, the set of her mouth, the slight tremble in her hands.

"Master Qui-Gon," she greeted him, inclining her head.

"Hello, my dear," he said gently, holding out one arm in an invitation.

Padmé Skywalker was one of the strongest women he had ever known. She had shields of steel around her thoughts and emotions, she knew how to control her every move, her every little expression. She had precious few people she could let down her guard around. Qui-Gon understood it was a privilege that she counted him one of those precious few.

Her lips quivered, before she came to his side, put her arms lightly around his waist, and leaned into his embrace.

"Thank you, Grandpa," she whispered against his shirt, and he tightened his grip around her shoulders.

Only she and Anakin called him that. 'Grandpa', an alteration of 'grandfather'. A funny word in Basic, but one that carried an astonishing amount of love and respect.

He bowed his head protectively over hers, impulsively bent low enough to kiss her hair.

Pain swept up through his belly, a sharp, hot rush, but he breathed it in, let it come, let it go, moved through it.

He felt her shoulders tremble, and when she pulled away, she kept her head down, wiping her cheeks with her hands.

"Here now," he sighed, touching her chin, and pulling his sleeve over his other hand to gently dry her tears. "The bills they're trying to pass must have been especially useless today."

That made the girl give a watery smile. "Not exactly,"she murmured.

"Well, take a seat. Your tea should be nearly done steeping."

She moved to the small table, took the one chair there, and seemed to collect herself. Qui-Gon reached a hand toward his desk, drew the other wood-frame seat out to face her, then turned to measure out his own tea.

The fresh sweetness of heathstars wafted up to his nostrils, and for a moment he imagined he was sitting in a dim little house, a tiny red-headed baby in his lap, singing a lullaby as rain pattered on the window.

With a sigh, he released the memory, though the ache that sat next to his heart whenever Obi-Wan was gone remained.

He took the mugs of tea the few steps to the table, deliberately set his in front of her.

"Here, drink this, you'll feel better."

She looked up with a faint smile, perhaps noting the accent that had slipped into his words, the way he'd rolled the 'r's and deepened the 'o' vowels.

"Thank you, Master Qui-Gon."

"Please." He eased himself down carefully. "I think I prefer 'Grandpa'. Anakin calls me that all the time now."

Her deep breath was shaky.

"Tell me, Padmé, any news of the war that may have missed me?"

She shook her head slowly, blew on her tea. "I doubt it. The last I heard was of the liberation of Ryloth, and rumors that they might be sent to Jabiim next." She grimaced. "Or that someone will, anyway. There are arguments every day from the war council over how much should be spent on everything from armor for the troops, to the rations put on board the cruisers."

Qui-Gon gave her a small smile. "I've never heard Obi-Wan complain so much as about the victuals on the Negotiator. Anakin always tells him to be grateful, then adds something about 'a little spice' improving anything."

Ah, there, Padmé smiled back. "He does enjoy strong flavour in his food, doesn't he, our Ani. He made me what they call 'kantanaki', and it made my tongue burn."

"Yes," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully, watching the steam starting to thin above their mugs. "He made that for me a few times. Bantha or another meat, steeped in hubba gourd juice. But with a secret mix of five different spices on top. Makes a world of difference."

He'd heard the talk about Jabiim too; he knew it would not be a nice planet to wage war on.

Padmé took a sip of her tea, and when she lowered her mug she was smiling. "What is this? It's delicious."

"Ah, heathstar tea. Made from the flowers of the heathren which blankets the hills of Stewjon." He let his voice reflect the sudden wistfulness that gripped him.

"Oh." Padmé lowered her gaze. "Did your wife make you this tea sometimes?" Pain echoed off her words, as if her suggestion had struck close to the heart of whatever was most troubling her that day.

"Yes, she did. I also made it myself, many times. Often with a baby on one arm."

"I wish I could make him tea."

Padmé's voice was very small.

"I wish I could give him this tea right now."

Qui-Gon watched her, aching with tenderness. "I'm sure he would appreciate it." So would Obi-Wan of course, but this wasn't about Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon, this was about Padmé.

Oh, and now the tears were tumbling down Padmé's cheeks again. "And I wish I had a baby to hold, that little peice of him in a child, to keep with me, to bring him back to me–"

She could speak no longer, simply covered her face with her hands, and wept.

Not something she did often, Qui-Gon was sure. But dam up a river too tightly, and it was bound to burst its banks.

It hurt dreadfully, pulling at his abdominal muscles, but he leaned across the small table enough to touch her arm.

"You'll be alright, my dear," he said quietly. "I'm here."

A weak bob of her head, and he noticed how simply her brown hair was braided up, yet it was still beautiful.

Unfortunately, the pain was growing, and he was forced to sit back, regulate his heartrate. Only the Force knew how much he hated his body betraying him.

With another sigh, this one of release, he settled into the Force, doing his best to give Padmé the sensation warmth and comfort around her.

Eyes half closed, he sipped his tea, waited for her storm to blow itself out.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, wiping her face with a small syncloth, and blowing her nose.

"No need to apologize." Qui-Gon smiled kindly. "Likely you needed that. Now finish your tea, it should help."

She gave a weak chuckle. "Yes, Grandpa."

"Shall we play a round or two of Sobers?" Qui-Gon inquired, and there, her eyes brightened.

"Only if you want to lose."

So they played cards, and drank tea, and found their way to smile, sitting safe in the Jedi Temple, while far away, Obi-Wan and Anakin slept a fitful sleep, and dreamed of home.

[jasontoddiefor]

A gift for @thenegoteator :D

It took a Temple to raise a child, and Mace Windu was very much aware of this. However, it did not explain what Ahsoka Tano was doing at his door in the middle of the night. Ahsoka had deep bags under her eyes, which wasn’t too much of a surprise considering the current living arrangements of her lineage. While little Luke and Leia were relatively well-behaved newborns, they were still only a few weeks old. If their human caretakers didn’t wake up at every single little whimper, then the togruta with the superior hearing certainly would.

“Do you want to come inside?” Mace asked, not letting his confusion show. He was used to people coming to his door at the oddest hours.

“If—if I can?” Ahsoka replied as if only now becoming aware of her actions. In this, she reminded Mace of her Grandmaster and the many nights Mace had found Obi-Wan coming to his doorstep during the first months of Anakin’s stay at the Temple.

“My door is always open, Padawan,” Mace said – and watched her wince.

Ah.

So there was the problem.

“Caleb is currently sleeping in my bed as Depa is away,” Mace explained. “So please keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake him unnecessarily.”

The boy had already had a hellish enough month behind him, he needed all the rest he could get. Even though the war was officially over, enough planets refused to surrender, drawing out the battles until they had nothing but children left to sacrifice. It weighed on Mace’s shoulders, making him wonder whether he wasn’t too old to carry such burdens still.

Ahsoka nodded and followed Mace inside. He couldn’t recall whether Ahsoka had been in his room before, but from the way she eagerly looked around his quarters, taking in the sight of old instruments, books, and holos, he guessed she hadn’t. Well, at one point in their life, every Jedi had set a foot inside Mace’s quarters, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Ahsoka tore herself away from the sight and looked at him with surprise. “I—yes? That would be nice.”

“Then I will make a cup. Do you have any preferences? I believe I even have Obi-Wan’s favorite blend here.”

Mace had no idea whether he had bought it or if Obi-Wan had just left it here from himself when he came over. Knowing the other man, it was likely that the latter was the case. For a man claiming to be so very polite, Obi-Wan could be a right brat.

Mace’s kitchen was small, with only a few cabinets and one shelf, two cooking tiles, and an oven. He wasn’t much of a cook himself and preferred to eat in the cafeteria with everyone, frequently taste-tasting what the Initiates had prepared. He selected two uneven cups Depa had made for him when she’d been young from the shelf. Why she had decided to pick up pottery of all hobbies was beside him, but he supposed that she found the motion soothing. Devan did enjoy parkouring through the lower levels and Echuu was quite content playing the guitar to calm himself.

Perhaps Mace should focus less on why all three of his Padawans had decided they wouldn’t follow him into theatre so they could continue to make fun of him. Setting the water to boil, Mace searched through his cabinets until he found Obi-Wan’s favorite blend. The fruity tea was far from the blend he preferred, but Mace prided himself on being a good host. While he waited for the tea to finish steeping, Mace enjoyed the quiet of the night. For all that there were few sounds as dear to him as that of people walking, or in the case of some younglings and few selected Knights, running, down their large hallways, Mace could appreciate the quiet when the world came to rest.

With two finished cups in hand, he returned to the living room, where he found Ahsoka curled up on the sofa, no longer studying his quarters for any hidden secrets.

“Thank you,” she said when she accepted the cup from him. She held it in her hands as if to warm them, letting the steam hit her face. She breathed in once, twice, finding her rhythm again. Mace waited until she’d calmed enough to speak up.

“What brings you to my door, Padawan Tano?”

Ahsoka flinched and appeared to make herself even smaller as if attempting to vanish. When it became apparent that it didn’t work, that silence hadn’t been what she had sought him out for, she let out a sigh. “You keep calling that.”

“Calling you what?” Mace asked, his brow raised, playing oblivious.

“… Padawan.”

“Are you not? I was under the impression that you had returned to the Temple.”

“I did, but I still left,” Ahsoka replied. “I left and I was convinced that I had to leave and that it was good that I did. I still think I had to leave the Temple behind.”

“Then why are you torn?”

Ahsoka’s hold on her cup tightened and so, perhaps in wise anticipation, she set it on the table and buried her hands in her robes instead, hiding their twitching from view. Mace could trace all her mannerisms to her teachers and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to purposefully rip all those pieces from yourself when they had become so ingrained in your very being. Even Dooku, who’d fallen so far from their beliefs, had been unable to fully rid himself of Yoda’s lessons. Maybe it was for the best. Hope had become a scarce commodity during the war, yet Mace considered the possibility that in a decade, they wouldn’t be imprisoning a Sith anymore.

“But am I still a Padawan? A member of this Order?” Ahsoka asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she shook like the leaves on the trees in the courtyard.

“Has your Master told you anything different?”

Ahsoka paused. “…. No.”

Seeing that realization was settling within her, Mace nodded. “Then you should not doubt him. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, and you will remain one as long as you live by our tenets.”

That teased a startled laugh from her. “Compassion for all except people who cheat at push-n-pull?”

As if transported back ten years, hearing Anakin say the same, Mace snorted. “The similarities between you and your Master astonish me every time. Yes, Padawan Tano, compassion for all.”

This seemed to calm the youth as she reached for her cup again and emptied it slowly. “It’s good.”

Mace smiled into his own cup. “I’d be insulted if it wasn’t. Obi-Wan forced me to memorize all the steps for making it.”

The then young Knight had been frazzled, and Mace honestly couldn’t tell what it had been about and had forced Mace to learn how to make this tea until he’d more or less collapsed on Mace’s sofa, completely knocked out until morning when Anakin had picked him up.

“He does do that,” Ahsoka agreed. “I think this is the only thing anyone can make reliably now.”

“Sleep-deprived much?” Mace inquired.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I love Luke and Leia dearly, but they are demanding and need a lot of attention.”

That was honestly kinder than Mace would have described newborns at her age.

“There is a reason why we usually don’t have children this young in the Temple,” Mace said. “They are very handful. Do you get enlisted to help very often?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, Obi-Wan, Skyguy, and Padmé got it covered, and I’m mostly just helping out somewhere else.”

She trailed off a little. This, perhaps, was another issue, but one that could be equally easily dealt with.

“Thank you then for going where you are needed,” Mace told her.

Ahsoka blinked. “Huh?”

“You will grow into a specific role someday, Ahsoka, and that needs time. Do not feel as if you need to earn back your place in the Temple. You don’t need to earn yourself a home you have always had. For now, trust me when I say that everyone you’ve helped is glad that you were there. It is an admirable quality to have a sense of where you are needed. Do not see it as being the odd one out.”

This was the hardest lesson to teach and learn, the fact that there was a path out there for you, but that it took time to see where it would lead. Too many of their Padawans now felt utterly lost without the structure the war had provided them with.

“Oh. I guess if you say so.”

“Yes, I do say so,” Mace agreed. Then, eyeing Ahsoka’s empty cup, he added on, “do you want another?”

“No.” Ahsoka yawned. “I think I might best head back.”

“You can also sleep here if you want, and don’t mind Caleb hogging the blanket. I won’t go to bed tonight anyway.”

Ahsoka squinted at him as if attempting to discern whether he was lying. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really—”

“Ahsoka, go to bed.”

Clearly feeling better already, she saluted and, after Mace showed her his bedroom, made herself comfortable in it. She took off her shoes and tossed her robe over a chair before climbing into the bed. Ahsoka had barely laid down when Caleb already turned around to curl around her, clinging like a little monkey. After a moment’s apprehension, she relaxed and was fast asleep. Stealing one last glance at the two Padawan, Mace returned to his living room, looking through the incoming reports.

Hectic as the aftermath of the war was, as much effort as caring for their children was, Mace wouldn’t trade it for a single thing in the world.

[imagineyourworld]

How the clones would ask you out (Genderneutral)

Includes Rex, Fives, Echo, Jesse, Kix, Cody and Wolffe 

Warnings: None

Rex

Poor Rex would be so, so nervous 

It took pep talks vom Anakin, Ahsoka and several of his brothers to get up the courage to actually ask you out (though not all of them were all that helpful) 

Rex wouldn’t ask you out in public or at work, he’d go to your flat instead

His strong knock doesn’t betray his nerves, but the second you open the door he cannot remember what he was going to say for the life of him 

Luckily he was trained as a soldier his entire life and it only takes him a few second to forget about his nerves and continue with his plan 

“I was wondering if you’d like to go on a picnic with me tomorrow?” 

A picnic, Ahsoka had convinced him, would be the perfect first date. The two of them had even decided on a nice place in one of Coruscant’s few parks together 

(Plus Rex likes to bake and cook, it’s his way of dealing with the stress of war (and his brothers’ shenanigans)) 

“I’d love to.” 

You have never seen such a big smile on Rex’s face 

“Great. That’s great.” 

You chatted for a few more minutes before Rex had to excuse himself. Just as you were closing the door you stuck your head out again.  “Rex?”  “Yes.”  “Is this a date?”  The small blush on his face was adorable.  “I’d like it to be, if that’s fine with you.”  You smiled.  “It’s more than fine.” 

Fives

If anyone has an actual pickup line it’s Fives, not in a creepy way though, he’s cute about it 

The two of you have been flirting back and forth for a while now and Fives, after finally no longer denying his feelings, decides to ask you out 

He walks up to you with every bit of confidence he can muster 

“Hey handsome, what brings you here?”, you ask. Your usual greeting, but Fives doesn’t reply in the way he usually does (”Hey mesh’la, just coming to admire the view.”)  “Since you make my heart sing I was wondering if you’d like to accompany to a concert tomorrow.” 

You could tell that he wasn’t joking this time, but still decided to have your fun with him. 

“So sorry, I already promised another handsome young man with a number as his name to spend the day with him.”  As soon as the words left your mouth the smile fell from Fives’ face and instantly made you regret your words.  “Oh, baby, no. I was only joking. I’d love to go out with you.”  The smirk was back and brighter than ever.  “It’s a date!”, he said a bit louder than he had to. 

He’d kiss you on the cheek before saying goodbye. 

(And maybe he even whispers suggestions for what you could do after the concert in your ear.) 

Echo

Much like Rex, Echo is quite nervous

At first he was glad to have Fives on his side to give him advice, but he soon learned that not everything his brother suggested would go down well 

He’d wait for you at work and offer to walk you home, because someone once told him that travelling in the same direction eases conversation 

When you exit the building your eyes immediately fall on Echo, who is standing nearby with flowers in his hand.  “What are you doing here?”, you ask with a smile on your face.  “I... well... I saw these flowers in the market downton and they made me think of you.” He hands you the flowers, suddenly even more nervous now that he doesn’t have anything in his hands.  “That’s so sweet”, you say as you lift the flowers to your nose. “I was just on my way home, would you like to join me and come in for a cup of caf?”

The two spend the rest of the day together. Walking home, drinking caf, cooking dinner. After a while Echo’s nervousness fades and only returns when he realises it’s time for him to return to the barracks. 

“Actually I had another reason to come to see you today. I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Like on a date. If you would like to go on a date with me.”  You laugh and the sound Echo usually cherishes breaks his heart, which you soon realise. “Oh, Echo, honey, no! I mean yes, but I just thought that today was kinda like... a date... I’m sorry, I was just assuming, I should have actually asked you.”  A smile mirroring yours appeared on his face.  “So... How about a second date?” 

Jesse 

Jesse only realises that he needs to ask you out as soon as possible after a particularly tough mission. A lot of his brothers died, even more got hurt, and he spent a few days in the medbay as well. 

The second he’s back on Coruscant he comms you asking where you are and no matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’s on his way to you as soon as you answer. 

“Stars, Jesse, what’s gotten into you?”, you ask when you open the door to his rapid knocking.  “I like you, I really like you and I don’t want to die without ever asking you out. So, (Y/N), will you go out with me?”  At first you don’t know what to say.  “Of course I’ll go out with you. But maybe you should sit down for a minute, you don’t seem like yourself.” 

After just a few minutes and a cup of herbal tea the two of you were talking and joking like always. That is until you remember an appointment you had to hurry to make.  “I’d hate to throw you out, but I really need to go.”  “That’s fine”, Jesse says with a smile. “How about I pick you up tomorrow at seven for our date?”  You nod your head smiling. 

Kix 

Kix asks you out more or less on accident. It’s been a long day, he’s tired, and all he wants is a relaxing evening with you. 

“Hey, Kix, you wanna come to 79s with us?”, Fives, who just popped into the medbay, asks.  Kix shook his head. “I really don’t. If it were up to me I’d spend the evening with some takeout and (Y/N).”  “(Y/N)?”, Jesse follows up.  “They help me relax like no one else and that’s what I need after stitching you idiots up all day”, Kix says, glancing at Fives and Hardcase at his last words.  “Then how about we grab something to eat and spend the evening on my couch?”, you offer.  Everyone turns to you, who had just entered the room. Echo bursts in a second later. “Sorry, I tried to stop her from coming in.” 

Kix blushes like crazy, you weren’t supposed to hear that. He tells you as much. 

You walk over to where he’s sitting, miraculously the others have disappeared, and place a hand on his shoulder. If it weren’t for the armour covering him you would have loved nothing more than giving him a soothing massage. 

“You know what? I’m here because I wanted to ask you out, but I guess you just did that for me.”  He chuckled. “Guess so. Let’s go, I cannot wait for our date.” 

Cody 

Cody would be so smooth when asking you out, mainly because he got advice from Obi-Wan, who flirts with everyone and could teach him a few good moves. 

His tactic is pretending you already agreed, which is why he spent the afternoon transforming his room into a small movie theatre for the two of you, complete with snacks and drinks and a holoprojector. 

He then makes his way over to your apartment to actually ask you out. And though he hadn’t been nervous all day, the second you open the door he’s at a loss for words. 

“(Y/N), cyare, I was wondering... No, that’s not it... I’m here to ask you... No, wait... Would you like to...” Though you can’t help but find his out of character rambling cute, you want nothing more than to put poor Cody out of his misery.  “Would you care for a glass of water?”, you ask, opening the door further to invite him in. 

For some reason the cool water helps him sort out his thoughts and he can finally ask the question he’d prepared earlier.  “Would you like to watch a movie with me tonight?”, he asks, his voice smooth and steady.  For a fraction of a second there was something that might have been disappointment in your eyes, but then you nodded.  “Sure. Why don’t we invite Waxer and Boil as well?”  Cody had been quite sure that you’d agree, but the second part caught him off guard. Maybe he should have been more obvious with his intention.  “Actually, I was hoping it’d be just the two of us.”  You raised an eyebrow.  “Wait a minute, Cody, did you just ask me on a date?”  A shy smile made it’s way on his face, though to his credit he didn’t blush.  “I did.”  He had no idea how it was possible, but the smile on your face was even brighter than his own.  “In that case, yes! I’d love to watch a movie with you.” 

Wolffe 

The main reason Wolffe was reluctant to ask you out was not nerves, but rather not wanting to admit his feelings, not wanting to admit a weakness. It was actually Plo Koon who, through ambiguous comments, convinced him to just do it.  

He didn’t want it to be a big ceremony, he wasn’t the type for big gestures, but that night, as you were sitting at 79s with the Wolfpack and your eyes were glittering in the multicoloured lights and your perfume made its way to Wolffe’s nose, he just had to ask you out before it was too late, before anything happened to either of you or someone else asked you before he did. 

And so, when most of the others were scattered across the bar, he asked you if you’d like to get some air with him. He may not be one for big gestures, but he’d be damned if he asked you out in a stuffy bar surrounded by his drunk brothers. 

Outside, he realized was not the perfect environment either. There were still drunk clones around and instead of stuffy it was cold, cold enough to make you shiver in your thin clothes and Wolffe wished he had a jacket he could give you.  “I’ll make this quick so you can go back inside. I-”, he stopped himself.  You were suddenly a lot closer than just a few moments ago, he could feel your warm breath on his face and it made him lose all focus.  “Yes, Wolffe?”, you questioned.  He cleared his throat and continued. “I was hoping that you’d like to go on a date with me sometime.” 

The atmosphere may not have been perfect, neither were his words, but your smile was and it made up for everything else.  “I don’t know, Commander, what’s in it for me?”, you asked with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know. Dinner, maybe flowers or chocolate”, he replied, trying his best to hide the sudden insecurity.  You crossed your arms over your chest and sighed. Wolffe knew what was coming next, he knew you’d let him down and it would be awkward. He never should have asked you out.  “You know, I had been hoping you’d say The pleasure of my company or something like that, but I suppose chocolate will do.”  A smirk had made it’s way to your lips and a low chuckled escaped Wolffe’s.  “Is that a yes, mesh’la?”  “It is.” 

[stolen-pen-name23]

Any prompt you want. I just want some Padme and Obi-wan friendship (yes, I’m aware these are angst prompts. I don’t care)

Hello my friend! Here's my final prompt fill from this round! Thanks for the prompt! //prompts now closed

Here ya go!

---

“You cannot possibly go like this.”

“Yes, I can,” Anakin says, panting slightly.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow at Anakin, standing over his former apprentice as he leans heavily over the toilet bowl. Anakin groans and allows his body to fall back against the wall.

With a concerned “hmm,” Obi-Wan crouches down beside Anakin and places a palm on his forehead. The younger Jedi pulls back but is unable to elude Obi-Wan for long. He is concerned but not surprised by the heat that greets his palm. Sweaty hair tangles in Obi-Wan’s fingers as he tries to smooth it back. His concern deepens when Anakin stops resisting his touch.

“Oh, Padawan,” Obi-Wan says, slipping into the old title like it’s muscle memory. He grabs a damp towel and dabs it at Anakin’s sweaty forehead. “This isn’t good.”

Shivers course through Anakin’s whole body and his cheeks are flushed pink with fever.

“I can still go, M’ster,” Anakin says, though it comes out as more of a whine than an assurance. “Please, Obi-Wan. I can’t disappoint Pa– Senator Amidala.”

“Anakin, you can’t even stand up without keeling over,” Obi-Wan says. “How do you think you’re going to last through a whole senatorial ball?”

“I can stand,” Anakin pouts. As if to demonstrate his point, Anakin climbs to shaky feet. “See? I’m st–”

Anakin sways and his knees buckle. Obi-Wan takes a heavy step forward and grabs a hold of Anakin before he can collapse again.

“You were saying?”

“Shudup.”

Anakin’s face is pressed into Obi-Wan’s chest and he sags into him.

“Come on,” Obi-Wan says. “Let’s get you to bed and out of that suit. You won’t be wearing it tonight I’m afraid.”

“But Padmé…”

“I’m sure Senator Amidala will do just fine for a night,” Obi-Wan reassures, dragging Anakin down the hallway.

“She’s gonna be all ‘lone,” Anakin slurs, and Obi-Wan can feel guilt and disappointment clouding Anakin’s Force presence.

“She’s a very strong woman, Anakin, she’ll manage.”

“But I promised,” Anakin whines.

“She’ll forgive you, she’s very kind,” Obi-Wan says.

“I know,” Anakin says wistfully. “She’s just the best.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “Come now, Anakin, let’s get you in bed before you say something I’m going to have to pretend to forget.”

“Kay,” Anakin says, too delirious to truly catch Obi-Wan’s meaning.

Like any good Master would, Obi-Wan helps Anakin out of his fancy suit and provides him with fresh, soft tunics to sleep in.

“Get in bed,” Obi-Wan commands, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll be right back.”

Anakin grumbles but slides under his sheets.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan heads to the kitchen and pours some tea he made shortly before he found Anakin hurling his guts out. It was still warm, but not scalding — perfect for Anakin who has an impatient streak a mile wide.

He returns to Anakin’s room to find him with half-closed eyes and an arm wrapped tightly around his abdomen.

“Drink this,” Obi-Wan says, handing the tea over to Anakin. “It will settle your stomach.”

“What about Padmé?” Anakin says again.

Obi-Wan frowns. He does feel bad that Padmé will be left without a date to the senatorial ball. He glances over to the chair where he draped Anakin’s tie and groans internally. Obi-Wan hates senatorial balls.

But he cares about Anakin and he cares about Padmé.

With a long-suffering sigh, Obi-Wan pulls out his commlink.

“Master Kenobi?” Padmé answers. Her expression is passive, but her voice betrays her confusion. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine, Senator, but I’m afraid there has been a change of plans.”

***

A gentle knock at the door tells Obi-Wan his date for the night has arrived to pick him up.

“Hello, Master Kenobi.”

The young senator is radiant in her evening gown. Fine lace patterns web over the length of her slender arms, but cut off at her shoulders, leaving them bare. The rest of the gown, a solid, navy blue, cascades down her body just as a waterfall might plunge from a mountainside. She is a dazzling sight and Obi-Wan thanks the stars that Anakin is asleep in his bed and not out here attempting to prove his healthiness. If illness didn’t make Anakin fall at her feet, this dress would certainly do the trick.

“Thank you for meeting me here,” Obi-Wan says. “It is not the most chivalrous thing, but I’m afraid I was short on time.”

“What you’re doing is chivalrous enough, Master Kenobi,” Padmé says. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course, I did. I could not possibly let you get stood up, especially by a Padawan of mine.”

Padmé giggles. “It’s hardly his fault.”

“Oh, I know, but giving him a hard time is much more fun than giving him my pity,” Obi-Wan says. “Give me one moment, Senator. I just need to find… ah, here it is.” Obi-Wan grabs the tie he had thrown haphazardly on the kitchen counter while he was getting ready.

He had rushed to throw together an outfit that would be acceptable for the ball and was pleased to find that his blue coat coordinated quite well with Padmé’s gown.

The tie is made of a silky material and his fingers fumble with the unfamiliar article of clothing. Qui-Gon taught him how to do this a long time ago. Now if only he could remember which way to pull…

“Let me,” Padmé says gently.

“Pardon?”

“You’re hopeless. Let me do it.” Padmé strides over to him and takes each side of the tie in either hand.

“I assure you, Senator, I am perfectly capable–” Obi-Wan starts as he tries to grab hold of the tie again. Padmé bats his hand away.

“Stop that,” she says. He squirms backward but she grabs hold of his shoulder to pull him back. “Hold still, would you?”

Obi-Wan sighs in defeat and allows Padmé to finish the knot. She carefully tucks the tie under his collar and she brushes her hands over his shoulders. “There. You look dashing.”

He smiles softly at her. “Thank you, Padmé. You look quite beautiful yourself.”

She bows her head graciously.

“Where is Anakin?”

His smile tightens into a grimace. “He’s asleep. I hope he stays that way. I gave him something for the nausea in hopes that it will help him sleep.”

Obi-Wan can sense her conflicting emotions in the Force and he already knows what she is going to ask.

“Are you sure he will be okay by himself?”

“He should be fine for a few hours. If not, he knows I will have my comm on me, though I anticipate we’ll be back before he wakes. Unless, of course, this is not the stuffy senatorial ball I was promised?”

“I’m afraid it is the stuffy senatorial ball you were promised.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan says, extending an arm for Padmé to link hers around. “Let’s get on with it shall we?”

***

“You’re a good dancer,” Padmé observes.

“You don’t need to sound so surprised,” Obi-Wan says, before twirling her around. Her dress splays out, its flared edges brush his legs.

“I’m not,” she says. “I suppose it’s a Jedi thing?”

Obi-Wan laughs at the mental image of Yoda dancing at a senatorial ball. “It is hardly a Jedi thing.”

“Anakin is a good dancer too,” Padmé argues.

“And pray tell, who do you think taught him?”

“Fair enough,” Padmé concedes and then she laughs.

“Something funny?”

“No, it’s just… I’m picturing you teaching a teenaged Anakin how to dance.”

“Yes, looking back it was probably quite amusing. It was less funny in the moment when he managed to step on all of my toes.”

Padmé laughs even more and the musical cadence of it blends in with the song the band is playing.

“So, Master Kenobi,” Padmé says. “Who taught you to dance. I’m having a hard time picturing Qui-Gon doing it.”

“That would be because he didn’t teach me,” Obi-Wan says.

“Then who did?”

Obi-Wan thinks back to a time long ago — to two kids and a Jedi master on the run. Blonde tresses and the gleam of beskar. Long nights under star-speckled skies.

“An old friend,” he says.

“Your friend did a good job.”

“She was a good teacher — stubborn and willful — but a good teacher nonetheless.”

One song ends and another begins.

Obi-Wan and Padmé continue their dance through the magnificent ballroom, their steps falling perfectly in time with the music and with each other.

“Thank you again for doing this. I know this kind of thing isn’t… well… your thing.”

“All things considered, being in good company certainly makes it more tolerable,” Obi-Wan says.

“Oh, only ‘tolerable’?” Padmé says with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe after another glass of champagne, it will verge into enjoyable.”

Padmé grins brightly as he spins her around again. On beat with the music, she steps back perfectly into place, one hand in his, the other on his shoulder.

“You’re a good friend, Obi-Wan,” Padmé says. “To me and to Anakin.”

“Thank you, Senator. You’re a good friend too.” He pauses, but then adds on, “to me and to Anakin.”

Padmé bites her lip and averts her gaze. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Obi-Wan feels the tension in her body as she asks the question and he can tell she has been wanting to ask it for some time. Her worry clouds the Force, but he parses through it to poke at the bond he shares with Anakin.

“He’s fine,” Obi-Wan reassures. Padmé’s shoulders remain rigid. “I would be able to sense if he were not. He’s fine, Padmé.”

Padmé relaxes at his words and returns to gently swaying with the rhythm. They move together, perfectly in sync with one another.

Only a few heartbeats more, and the song finds its end. Obi-Wan bows to Padmé and she inclines her head in polite acknowledgment.

“Another dance?” he asks.

“Maybe in a little while. Let’s see about getting you that glass of champagne first, shall we?”

“You read my mind, Senator.”

Arm in arm, they walk together laughing and smiling — not as a Jedi and a senator, but as two friends enjoying the simple pleasure of one another’s company.

[dindjarins04]

CHAPTER THREE

I AM NO JEDI MASTERLIST

Still curled up on the small chair in Padme's living area, Anakin paces back and forth. He sighs and stops in the middle of the room while you calmly respond to the onslaught of Qui-Gon's messages.

"It's too quiet,"

"That's a good thing," You reply. "I'd rather not have to deal with blasters," You look and see him looking down at you. "Perhaps if you sat down, you wouldn't be so anxious,"

"Can you at least pay some attention to me rather than your holopad?" He asks with a huff. You roll your eyes and place it down.

"You're such a child,"

"Maybe I just need a distraction,"

"Oh and I'm the perfect fit for your distraction?" You tease as he sits down in the chair opposite you.

"Yes," He says. "So...why do you think we weren't allowed to see each other for 10 years?"

"Well, those 10 years were the most vital part of our training, maybe we were just too busy with training to make friends," You shrug as you stand to pour yourself a glass of water. Anakin stays silent as he thinks of different reasons for the Jedi keeping you separate. "Enough about us...what's your story with Padme?" You cringe at yourself. Smooth, (Y/N), that was real smooth.

"We met on Tatooine, I saved her planet and that's it," You quirk a brow and turn around, leaning against the table you got your water from.

"Really? I thought you two had something more, considering the way you talk to her," You say, sipping your water.

"Heh, jealous?" You choke on the water at the question.

"That's absurd," Anakin chuckles and shakes his head.

"Whatever you say, princess,"

"Quiet, mudscuffer," Then, Obi-Wan strolls in.

"Captain Typho has more than enough men downstairs. No assassin will try that way. Any activity up here?" He asks as you move back to your holopad to send your last couple of messages to your master.

"Quiet as a tomb. I don't like just waiting here for something to happen to her," Anakin complains as Obi-Wan checks a palm-sized view scanner he has pulled out of his utility belt. It shows a shot of R2 by the door, but no sign of Padme on the bed.

"What's going on?" Obi-Wan asks.

"She covered that camera. I don't think she liked us watching her," You roll your eyes.

"What is she thinking?"

"Actually, all of this was (Y/N)'s idea," You look to see the men staring at you.

"I programmed R2 to warn us if there's an intruder,"

"It's not an intruder I'm worried about. There are many other ways to kill a Senator,"

"I know, but we also want to catch this assassin. Don't we, master Jedi?" You respond with a smirk.

"You're using her as bait??"

"It was her idea... No harm will come to her,"

"I can sense everything going on in that room. Trust me," Anakin adds on as you finish your last message and put down your holopad.

"It's too risky... and your senses aren't that attuned, young apprentice,"

"And yours are?"

"Possibly," You roll your eyes at the duo.

"You know, I can sense everything too, Qui-Gon has been teaching me well,"

"I do not disagree, I was his padawan as well," Obi-Wan says as he moves to look out of the window.

"The water is empty, I'll get some more, comm me if anything happens," Obi-Wan nods as Anakin walks beside him.

"You look tired," Obi-Wan states as he examines Anakin.

"I don't sleep well, anymore," He responds truthfully.

"Because of your mother?"

"I don't know why I keep dreaming about her now. I haven't seen her since I was little,"

"Dreams pass in time,"

"I'd rather dream of (Y/N). Just being around her again is...intoxicating," He smiles to himself but Obi-Wan gives him a look of disapproval.

"Mind your thoughts, Anakin, they betray you. You and (Y/N) have made a commitment to the Jedi order... a commitment not easily broken...and remember she is also a Jedi,"

"I understand Master...but there's just something about her. Being around her again...it brings a forgotten but familiar feeling back," Anakin grins, gently touching his chest.

"Anakin, (Y/N) is already on thin ice with the Jedi Council, please don't try and ruin this for her," Anakin looks up at his master.

"I...I won't," You return with a sigh.

"I couldn't get any water!" You exclaim. "Too many procedures to fill up one jug of water," You sigh placing it down. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Anakin and Obi-Wan share a discreet glance.

"No, it's been very quiet," Obi-Wan answers to Anakin's relief. But then, you all stop and look at each other.

"Is it just me?"

"No, I can sense it too," All three of you run and burst into Padme's room. Two creatures stand on their hind legs as Padme lays deadly still. Anakin springs onto the bed and slices the creatures in half with his lightsaber. You see a droid outside and race after it, crashing through the blinds and window. Okay. Bad idea. You did NOT think that through.

You fly through the glass window and fling yourself at the probe droid, grabbing onto the deadly machine before it can flee. The droid sinks under the weight of you but manages to stay afloat and fly away, with you hanging on for dear life, a hundred stories above the city. The droid sends several protective electrical shocks across its surface, causing you to almost lose your grip. As you dart in and out of the speeder traffic, you disconnect a wire on the back of the droid. Its power shuts off. Shit! You and the droid drop like rocks. You realise the error of your ways and quickly puts the wire back. The droid's systems light up again and it takes off.

Sweat begins to build on your forehead. You did not think this through what so ever and you have no idea where Anakin or Obi-Wan is. The last thing you remember is Padme's deadly still body. Is she dead? That sudden thought sends a pang of regret in your gut. Did you allow your best and only friend to die?

The droid bumps against a wall, hoping to knock you loose. It moves behind a speeder afterburner to scorch you. It takes you wildly between buildings and finally skims across a rooftop and you are forced to lift your legs, tenaciously hanging onto the droid.

"Would you stop?!" You growl as the droid heads for a dirty, beat-up speeder hidden in an alcove of a building about twenty stories up. When the pilot of the speeder, a scruffy looking person who is most likely a bounty hunter, sees the droid approach with you hanging on, she pulls a long rifle out of the speeder and starts to fire at you. Explosions burst all around you. "I have a bad feeling about this," You say.

Finally, the droid suffers a direct hit and blows up and you fall fifty stories until a speeder drops down next to you, and you manage to grab onto the back end of the speeder and haul yourself toward the cockpit. You struggle to climb into the seat and you sigh in relief when seeing Anakin driver and Obi-Wan in the passenger seat.

"That was wacky! I almost lost you in the traffic," Anakin said.

"What took you so long?" You ask as you finally sit correctly in the seat you tumbled into.

"Oh, you know, princess, I couldn't find a speeder I really liked, with an open cockpit... and with the right speed capabilities...and then you know I had to get a really gonzo colour..."

"Qui-Gon will not be happy about your recklessness," Obi-Wan chimes in.

"Well, I know who to follow now," Anakin zooms upward in hot pursuit of the bounty hunter as she fires out the open window at you with her laser pistol.

"And Anakin, if you'd spend as much time working on your saber skills as you do on your wit, young Padawan, you would rival Master Yoda as a swordsman," Obi-Wan says, scolding both of you.

"I thought I already did," Anakin replies smugly.

"Only in your mind, my very young apprentice. Careful!! Hey, easy!!" Obi-Wan says as he grips the sides of the speeder as Anakin deftly moves in and out of the oncoming traffic, across lanes, between buildings, and miraculously through a construction site, the bounty hunter still firing at you.

"Sorry, I forgot you don't like flying, Master," You watch with a small smile at the way these two communicate. It reminds you of how you and Lumarina shared a lot of jokes and banter just like these two.

"I don't mind flying... but what you're doing is suicide!" You barely miss a commuter train.

"I agree with Obi-Wan on that account," You say as you duck.

"Master, you know I've been flying since before I could walk. I'm very good at this and (Y/N)...just trust me," You roll your eyes as he laughs and Obi-Wan gasps as Anakin makes another narrow turn.

"Just slow down!" The bounty hunter and Anakin race through a line of cross-traffic made up of giant trucks. The speeders bank sideways as they slide around right-angle turns between buildings. The bounty hunter races into a tram tunnel. "Wait! Don't go in there!" Obi-Wan says but Anakin zooms into the tunnel after the hunter. You see a tram coming at you. Anakin brakes, turns around, and race out, barely ahead of the charging commuter transport."You know I don't like it when you do that!" Obi-Wan growls. "We also have another person with us, try not to kill three Jedi!"

"Sorry, Master. Don't worry, this guy's gonna kill himself any minute now!"

"No, you're going to kill us!" You scold, slapping his head. The hunter turns into oncoming traffic, deliberately trying to throw Anakin off. Oncoming speeders swerve, trying to avoid the hunter and three Jedi. The hunter does a quick, tight loop-over and ends up behind all of you. She is now in a much better position to fire at you all with her laser pistol. To avoid being hit by the laser bolts, Anakin slams on the brakes and moves alongside her. She now fires point-blank at Obi-Wan.

"What are you doing? He's gonna blast me!"

"Right, not a good idea," Anakin quickly turns and swerves away. Suddenly, the hunter throws a bunch of explosives in your direction. You stand and use the force to hold them away from your speeder as they explode. Out of a cloud of smoke and ball of flames Anakin tears after the hunter.

"(Y/N), that didn't do much help!" Obi-Wan slaps out the small fire on the dashboard.

"At least we're not dead!" You exclaim, sitting back down. The hunter goes up and down, through cross-traffic. There is a near miss as a speeder almost hits you. The hunter turns down and left between two buildings. Anakin pulls up and to the right

"Where are you going?! He went down there, the other way,"

"This is a shortcut... I think,"

"What do you mean, 'You think?' What kind of shortcut?! He went completely the other way! You've lost him!" You exclaim from behind him.

"Guys, if we keep this chase going, that creep's gonna end up deep-fried personally, I'd very much like to find out who in the hell he is and who he's working for..."

"Oh, so that's why we're going in the wrong direction," Obi-Wan says sarcastically. Anakin turns up a side street, zooming up several small passageways, then stops, hovering about fifty stories up. Obi-Wan folds his arms. "Well, you lost him,"

"I'm deeply sorry, Master,"

"Great job Anakin, he went completely the other way," You groan, unhappy for losing the bounty hunter. Anakin looks around front and back. He spots something. He seems to start counting to himself as he watches something below approach.

"Excuse me for a moment," Anakin then jumps out of the speeder. You and Obi-Wan watch as he jumps on the hunter's speeder about five stories below you. You quickly jump into the driver's seat and follow after them. You deftly gain on the rogue speeder. The two speeders dive through oncoming traffic and then through cross traffic. You then see Anakin drop something and you quickly catch it. You then notice it's his lightsaber. You sigh and hand it to Obi-Wan.

"I'm going to have to admit, this has been the most fun I've had since Naboo," You say as you follow the speeder as it crashes onto the ground.

"Naboo? You mean with Maul?"

"Well, everything leading up to that," You say as you talently spin around oncoming vehicles.

"Spinning is not flying!" Obi-Wan groans. "This is the first time I've ridden with you and your already matching Anakin's recklessness," You chuckle as you land. You grin as you land and wipe the sweat from your head. Obi-Wan looks at you before chuckling. You also laugh as he gets out and helps you out. "I will have to admit, that was something different,"

"Probably something the council will frown upon," You joke before seeing him. "Anakin!"

"She went into that club," Anakin said, pointing to the bright sign.

"Patience," Obi-Wa reminds as he hands Anakin his lightsaber. "Here. Next time try not to lose it,"

"Sorry, Master," Anakin reaches for the lightsaber, but Obi-Wan holds it back. "A Jedi's saber is his most precious possession,"

"Yes, Master," He reaches for his lightsaber again, but Obi-Wan pulls it back.

"He must keep it with him at all times,"

"I know, Master,"

"This weapon is your life!"

"I've heard this lesson before..." You and Anakin say at the same time. Obi-Wan finally holds out his lightsaber and Anakin grabs it.

"But unlike (Y/N), you haven't learned anything, Anakin,"

"I try, Master,"

"However, you should thank (Y/N) for catching it for you," Obi-Wan says before stepping away.

"Thank you...you've lost your lightsaber?" He teases as you follow Obi-Wan.

"Yeah, but I found it," You defend.

"How long did it take you?"

"3 lectures from my master and one full rotation,"

"Really? Where was it?" You look down. "(Y/N)," He says in a sing-song voice.

"It was under my bed," Anakin laughs loudly and you also chuckle as all three of you enter the nightclub.

[corruptedforce]

❛   your face would look better between my legs.   ❜   ( from padmé )

NSFW Meme // @exitiosae // Accepting!

Anakin spent far too much time, in Padme’s office. She insisted on working nonstop, and when he was in Coruscant, he tended to make sure that he was sent to Chancellor Palpatine’s office frequently, or to the Senate.  Okay, he tended to wind up there, anyway.  But, he also wound up where he was supposed to be, on time, mostly.  But, it’s not like Obi-Wan expected him to actually be on time, anyway.

Today, he was in Padme’s office again and she was working, and he was annoyed, because he’d been trying to get her to take a break all day, and all she did was work. He even knocked the papers off her desk, with the force, which got him a dirty look, and the chivalrous Jedi he was, bent down and picked them up, with a huff.

“You know, I could wind up having to leave tonight. That would mean that we wouldn’t get a proper goodbye, one that we both enjoy, but you just keep working, on the very important Senate matters.”  He rolled his eyes, and made it quite clear, that he did. She tried to say something, but he interrupted her.  “You know, we had that talk about making each other more of a priority but no, you’re still busy and do you know how hard it is to sit here and talk constantly about what we should do, before I go off to war, and you’re worried about some talk that you have, in a week?  Look at my face, don’t you feel sorry that me, that you’re sending me off to war, and you aren’t willing for us to go back to the penthouse for even thirty minutes?” It’s not like you let me distract you in here.”  He was whining. 

He noticed he had her attention, when she said ‘look at my face’ and it did look less stern.  Then, she said something, and his mouth dropped open.  

“It would look better, where? I mean, I agree. My face always looks good between your legs, and if you’re that determined to work, I could always lock the door, slip under the desk and see if you can actually pay attention? I mean, didn’t they teach you all about restraint and not showing emotion, when you were Queen?”  He stood up and perched on the edge of her desk. “Could you keep your composure, Senator Amidala?”  He bit down on his lip.  “Will you stay composed, Will you keep working, or will you throw away all that composure and not even try to pretend that my mouth isn’t between your legs? This is official Jedi Questioning, you know.” 

[ddaeng-danvers]

under and over

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader

genre: fluff

summary: in which anakin learns how to braid hair

warnings: mention of death, minor injuries, the reader is described as having long hair

word count: 2753

a/n: well...i’m having an anakin phase, what can i say. this is unedited and i wrote it in one sitting so i apologize for any mistakes, also!! i’m aware some things may be inconsistent with ~canon~ but i’m having a good time so leave me alone,,, there are also mentions of platonic anakin x padme as an fyi... finally!! this isn’t a part two of my last fic (dreams) but in my brain they are like the same universe,,, so yeah,,, enjoy!!

masterlist

*this gif has nothing to do with the fic but he looks GREAT so i’m using it anyway*

You left for the Jedi Order when you were quite young. You left only your mother behind, as your father died in a shipping accident on Corellia. You held on to as many memories of your mother as possible, as she was the only family you had left. One of your fondest memories of your mother was the way she did your hair. Every morning, from the moment you had a sprout of hair on your head, she attempted to braid and style it intricately. The styles were always beautiful, inspired by the different cultures of the galaxy your mother had seen in her travels with your father before he passed.

Now, over fifteen years later, you long for the feeling of your mother’s fingers weaving through your hair. Because you left for the order at such a young age, your mother was never able to teach you her braiding and styling methods. This has left you with two simple skills, tying your hair into ponytails, and braiding it into two strands on either side of your head. You longed for the ability to weave it atop your head, but now, with the war, there was little time for hair styling.

Almost immediately after passing your trials, you were thrown into the Clone War. You worked alongside Anakin Skywalker and the 501st battalion most often, but frequently bounced around to others, such as Obi-Wan’s 212th, and your former master Shaak Ti’s position on Kamino. You were never officially assigned a battalion of your own due to your opposition of the war, but remained a Jedi General for the benefit of the Republic.

After a particularly rough mission, your find yourself sneaking from the medbay (you suffered only minor scrapes and bruises) and retreated to your quarters. It is there that you find Anakin standing on the balcony.

“What’re you doing out here, Ani?” He smiles and looks back at you.

“I should be asking you that. You should be in the medbay.” You look at the ground, feeling the slightest bit guilty. You know how much Anakin cares for you. If you stayed you may have lessened his worrying slightly.

“I’m alright. It’s nothing too serious.” A moment of silence passes. “What about you? You and Snips didn’t come out unscathed either.” Anakin’s face shrinks in the slightest, the thought of his padawan’s injuries a difficult one to process.

“We’re both okay. She was checked over. Hit her head pretty hard, but she’ll be okay. She does have to stay on bedrest for a bit, which I’m sure she’s thrilled about.” You both laugh at the thought.

“She reminds me of you, y’know.” Anakin’s expression becomes puzzled.

“Really?” He asks. You nod, looking out into the Coruscant skyline.

“She’s headstrong, confident. Sometimes a bit overconfident.” Anakin lets out a chuckle. “But she’s got a good heart. And she cares about those around her, deeply.” Anakin smiles at you again.

“Well I certainly do care for you, my love.” He leans down and presses the softest kiss to your lips, and then to both cheeks, which begin to redden. He still makes you feel like a bubbling padawan.

“We should probably head to bed soon, debriefs and all in the morning.” Anakin curtly nods, continuing to gaze at the setting sun. “We can check on Ahsoka too, before we head to bed., if you want.”

Although attachments are technically forbidden by the Jedi Council, there was a strange exception granted to you and Anakin. The council knew of your relationship, and even approved it. Master Yoda claimed you had prevented Anakin from falling down a darker path. He insisted that the force willed you together. Luckily, it seems the exception of your attachment has led to some more leniency in the Council regarding the subject.

After a quick trip to the refresher and a check-up with Ahsoka, you and Anakin retire back to your quarters. (Technically Anakin has his own quarters that he is supposed to stay in, although everyone knows this is a rare occurrence). He always seemed to like your room more. He claimed it had more personality than his. Likely because he didn’t have much to bring with him from Tatooine, and materialism was generally discouraged among Jedi.

Being held by Anakin at night felt like a gift from the Maker himself. His arms warm, his chest firm, and his hands combing through the tresses of your hair.

Anakin awoke the next morning to a cold bed. He heard you clamoring around the refresher. Curious, he threw on his robe and knocked on the door.

“You alright in there, love?” He stands up against the door, waiting for a response. You open the door a moment later, a grumbly look on your face. It seems you’ve already gotten dressed. You had on a brown and black tunic and pants. Your armor for battle left at the foot of your bed, since today was to be a day filled with debriefing, strategizing, and paperwork.

“I’m fine, I just woke up early and then couldn’t fall asleep, so I decided to get up, be productive, but I just can’t do my hair right.” Anakin noticed the rough braids on your scalp, likely from failed attempts at braiding it moments ago.

“I wish I could help you, but hair isn’t my area of expertise.” Anakin looks at you through the mirror as he wraps his arms around your torso. He places a kiss to your shoulder.

“It’s fine.” You affirm. “I’m just frustrated.”

The debrief with the Council went without a hitch. Just a standard report on your success, information regarding casualties, and your new assignments. Fortunately, the Council gave the two of you a few days off before your next assignments. You planned to spend every waking moment possible with Anakin, as you were being sent to aid Obi-Wan and the 212th. You returned to your quarters shortly after the meeting to strategize a plan for your upcoming assault with Anakin on your heels. He helped you as much as he could, before becoming distracted. (He was never the best strategizer. He joked you were the brains of this relationship). He tinkered with his arm as you worked alongside him.

A knock on the door pulled you from your work. You opened it slowly, curious as to who it could be. Opening it all the way, you were met with the colors and patterns of a traditional Nabooian gown.

“Padme!” You exclaimed. It had been so long since you’d seen her. You grew quite close when you and Anakin were assigned to protect her all those years ago. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on Senate business, and I couldn’t be here without stopping by to say hello to you two.” Anakin has since gotten up from his seat and come over to great Padme as well. “I was going to stop and see Ahsoka, but I assumed she’d be training. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Ahsoka was actually injured on our last mission. Nothing serious, just a mild concussion, she’s resting in her quarters as far as I know.” Anakin assures.

“We could stop by and see her, I’m sure she’d be excited to know you’re here.” Padme smiles at the implied compliment. You grab your robes from your bed, and usher everyone through the hallway to Ahsoka’s quarters. You knock as lightly as possible on the door.

“Ahsoka, you in there? You have a visitor.” Ahsoka fumbles behind the door, before opening it.

“Senator Amidala!” Ahsoka exclaims. The two of them envelop in a brief hug before separating. “It’s great to see you!”

“And you as well Ahsoka. You’ve gotten so tall!” Ahsoka viewed Padme as an older sister figure. She’d lost the rest of her family so young, she had little memory of them. The memories she does have however, she cherishes. You and her both.

After an hour or so of catching up, you notice Ahsoka’s eye’s begin to droop. You look up at Anakin who seems to have noticed the same thing. Through the briefest of eye contact, you understand Anakin’s request. He wants you to stay with her, make sure she’s actually resting. You nod, as Anakin whispers this information to Padme. “It’s been great catching up with you Ahsoka, but I’m afraid I have to tend to that Senate business now. Rest well.” Ahsoka nods politely, her drowsy expression only worsening.

“Thank you Senator Amidala. See you later. You too, Master Skywalker.” You stay in your standing position before guiding Ahsoka down to her bed. She practically rolls over the moment she sits down.”

“Tired?” You chuckle. Ahsoka smiles slightly.

“Yeah, this concussion took me out more than I care to admit.” You laugh again. “You are just like Anakin when he was a padawan. It scares me sometimes how similar you to are.” Ahsoka nods again.

“I guess that means we’re a perfect match.”

“I guess so.” Ahsoka seems to drift off quickly, and you begin to tidy anything out of place around her room. There isn’t much out of place, so you make your way to the door. But just before you open it, Ahsoka calls out your name.

“Master Y/L/N?” You walk over to the edge of her bed again.

“Yes Ahsoka? Is there something wrong?” Her expression is confused and guilt-ridden.

“Can you stay here with me? I haven’t gotten very good sleep lately, I’ve been having nightmares.” You looks down at Ahsoka again. She seems to be like Anakin in her sleep habits as well.

“Of course, Ahsoka. If anything you are sparing me from planning Obi-Wan’s attack later this week.”

“I’m sure Master Kenobi can figure that out himself.” Ahsoka smiles.

“Yes, I’m sure he can.”

Anakin smiles as her feels your Force presence relax, assuming because you’ve fallen asleep. Padme smiles up at him.

“You’ve got that dumbstruck look on your face, again.”

“What do you mean again?” Anakin questions.

“You were looking at her like that the whole time we were in Ahsoka’s room.” Padme laughs. “It’s okay, it’s cute. I remember you two on Naboo. Absolutely dancing around your feelings until I put a stop to it.” Anakin remembers his mission with you to Naboo fondly. You assumed Anakin loved Padme, when he never held romantic feelings for her. Only familial admiration. You and Padme spoke over dinner one night after Anakin went to bed early. She essentially pried your confession out of you, but you assured her that Anakin loved her. How very wrong you were. Padme made it her mission to set you two up while you were still on Naboo. Clearly, she was successful.

“I have a strange request.” Anakin spoke up. Padme nodded at him to continue speaking. “Can you teach me how to braid hair?” Padme stops in her tracks, Anakin continuing to walk a few steps forward before turning around. “What?”

“Nothing, just, that is in fact a strange request. Why do you want to learn?” Anakin describes the scene of you this morning, frustrated in the mirror.

“Her mother used to style it, but she left for the Order so young that she was never able to learn how her mother did it.” Padme nods along.

“I can teach you. We’ll start with some simple ones, I’ll leave you datapads to look over in the future. Does that suffice?” Anakin nods, gratefully.

“Yes, thank you Padme. When should I meet you again for my...lesson?”

“We can go back to my room right now, if that works for you?”

“Of course, but I thought you had Senate duties to attend to?” Padme chuckles.

“If this is for Y/N’s benefit, this far outweighs my senatorial duties.” Padme and Anakin laugh and continue their walk down the hall.

Anakin spent the next few hours listening to Padme’s instructions as she demonstrated a few hairstyles on her handmaidens. They allowed Anakin to practice on their hair as well. Anakin was always a fast learner, and picked up these skills quickly.

Time flew by, and Anakin suddenly felt your Force precense awaken. He ties the braid he was working on in Sabe’s hair, and received an impressed nod from Padme.

“Not half bad, Anakin. You’ve picked this all up quite fast.” Anakin gives a nod with a hint of smirk on his face. He’s impressed with himself too. He thanks everyone in the room, especially the handmaidens who have had him tugging at their hair for the past few hours, and departs for your quarters, excited to show off his new skills.

When he arrives, you’ve already made it back from Ahsoka’s room and changed into a lighter pair of pants and a looser tunic. You have battle plans strewn across the table, with your head resting in your hands.

“Thank you for staying with Ahsoka, I had a feeling she wasn’t getting the best rest.” You nod in agreement.

“She’s been having nightmares. Nothing serious, I think she’s still reflecting on the mission. I think she’s being reminded of her squadron on Ryloth. She’s afraid of it happening again.” Anakin’s expression sinks. You know him well enough to understand his thought process. He wishes to protect Ahsoka from as much pain as possible. Although he knows this isn’t possible, he beats himself up when she feels this pain. “I can practically read your thoughts, love. It’s not your fault.”

“I know, I just wished she believed in herself a little more. She’s capable, but afraid of further consequences.” You both nod and let a comfortable silence overtake the room.

Hours fly by yet again, and the sun has set behind the Coruscant skyline, signaling the end of another day. You both wordlessly get ready for bed.

As you finish drying your hair, Anakin can seethe wheels turning in your head. He knows exactly what you are about to attempt, and he has a surprise in store. He grabs your brush of the stand along your bed, and elastics gifted to him by Padme. “Love, come here.” He motions for you to sit in front of him, your bottom practically in his lap. Anakin has brushed your hair before, you used to rebraid each other’s braids during your time as padawans as well, so you weren’t suspicious when Anakin began to brush through you hair.

What did surprise you is when he began to section it off. He weaved it gently between his fingers, skillfully. He managed to avoid every knot and unnecessary tug. You felt him pin the braids intricately forming a ring over the top of your head. The rest were tucked into a bun, with braids that formed a section of their own. He placed his hands on your shoulder to signal his completion, and you looked at him eagerly.

“Can I look at it?” You asked, brimming with glee.

“Of course, love.” You rush to the mirror in the refresher. As soon as you are met with your reflection, you are rendered speechless. Anakin has since gotten out of bed and come to stand behind you in the refresher. “You like it?” Anakin asks. You nod your head. You turn your neck to see the back, and it’s beautiful, The braids flow within your natural hair perfectly. It feels both similar and different from your mother’s style. Not quite Correlian, but…

“Padme taught you how to do this.” You stated.

“How did you know?” Anakin asked, surprised you deciphered it that quickly.

“I’ve seen her wear something similar before. It also feels very Nabooian.” Anakin gleams down at you, thrilled to see your smile. You reach up and grip his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. You separate a moment later. “Can you teach me how to do this?”

Anakin laughs. “Of course my love.” The two of you retire to bed shortly after. Anakin admires his handiwork as you lay your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you, Ani. I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, love. It made me upset that you never got to learn from your mother, I know how much it meant to you, so we can learn together.” The thought of Anakin with his hands in your hair glaring at a datapad about hair styles made you giggle. “Maybe you can pass these hairstyles on to our children one day.” The thought of Anakin with a child, your child in his lap, makes you smile as you slip into sleep.

[tennessoui]

Hi miss Kit! So um, I'm not the anon who had the idea about the Pokemon obikin AU but I saw that you're still looking for a prompt so I did some brainstorming?

Obviously Anakin is aiming to be a Pokemon Master which is why he'll have to fight the elite four eventually. Which is not an easy task despite what the games might imply! So what if, despite breezing through the gyms before, beating Team Rocket and having a team that is powerful and adores him, he still fails his first attempt at the league.

I remember Prof Oak telling your rival after you beat him in gen 1 that he lost to you because he doesn't love his Pokemon enough which is bullsh*t!! But must surely be a cutting remark.

So ofc he goes to caretaker!Obi-Wan afterwards because he is a former Pokemon trainer so how has he dealt with loss before? Does Anakin really not love his team enough? Bonus points if Obi has challenged the league before (and won??)

I just realized that this is way too angsty for the Pokemon universe >.< everything is nice and soft here

alright!!!!!! finally!!! here is that pokémon au, a bastardization of this prompt and @sinhalbutnoangst 's prompt "24: Right before a passionate/first kiss & 16: “There’s nothing to be scared of, okay? I’m right here.” For a Pokémon AU !!!"

I hope y'all both enjoy or at least find parts to be happy about!!!

(fair warning i don't know a lot about pokémon so who knows how accurate this is at ALL)

(3.3k)

(i've linked each pokémon name with their pokedex picture just so everyone knows what they look like. no need to read the descriptions or anything)(god knows i didn't half the time)

Obi-Wan is in the water, tending to a shy gyarados a trainer had left behind as a Magikarp a few months ago, when on the shore his flareon raises its muzzle and barks loudly. That’s her signal that someone’s arrived at the Daycare center proper. Obi-Wan furrows his eyebrows, as he strokes his hand down the gyarados' side.

“I always tell them to call ahead,” he mutters as the pokemon nudges closer for more attention. “Why do they never call ahead?”

Gyarados knocks him hard in the arm. It’s clear she wants more pats, but business calls.

“Would you mind terribly taking me back to shore, dear?” Obi-Wan asks politely. It’d be faster than swimming all the way there, and it would strengthen the Pokémon's connection with humans.

On the shore, Flareon bounds around in a circle, tail flickering back and forth. It must be someone she recognizes the scent of. A regular then. That means Obi-Wan can take his time getting back to the counter to greet them, but he probably shouldn’t show up dripping wet in only a pair of swim trunks.

Luckily, Gyarados gives him a lift, bellowing mournfully to be left alone again when Obi-Wan alights onto the sand. When her trainer comes back to pick it up, Obi-Wan has half a mind to offer to buy her from them. No one who actually cares about their pokemon would leave a magikarp to become a gyarados under the care and instruction of someone else.

But becoming known as the Daycare Runner who gets attached to Pokémon and tries to keep them is perhaps a serious threat to his business as a whole. And he’s already done that too many times.

No, the best thing to do is to wait for the trainer to come back and sit them down to give them a serious talk about their Pokémon’s emotional needs. They’re probably young. Most trainers are these days. On some level you have to be in order to have the energy to travel as much as you do, to sleep on the ground more nights than not.

Yes, they’re probably young, and more focused on gym battles than their Pokémons’ growth and happiness. It happens sometimes with tunnel vision like that. Too many advertisements for the Pokémon League, the Elite Four, the Gym badges. Obi-Wan had been the same way when he was a kid.

He gathers his clothes from the shoreline and slips on his shoes. Flareon tries to help dry him out by wrapping herself repeatedly around his ankles and cooing out gusts of warm air, but all it does is create a new and unusual tripping hazard.

Especially when she suddenly perks up, about halfway to the building and jumps forward into a run. Obi-Wan stares after her, confused, clothes held in a slackened grip until he sees a very familiar growlithe running fult tilt from around the building. It hops the fence with practiced ease that makes Obi-Wan inwardly despair at the lesson it’s unwittingly teaching all of the other Pokémon.

But he can’t deny the way his heart thuds when he realizes what its presence means. His flareon, embarrassingly enough, seems to be thinking along the same lines, as she bounds up to the growlithe and starts winding between his legs instead, rubbing her head over every part of black and orange fur she can reach.

Obi-Wan sighs and shucks on his buttoned shirt, shaking out the water from his hair. He doesn’t even really bother with pants, seeing as his wet swim trunks go almost to his knees.

It’s Anakin. Anakin’s here. Anakin hasn’t been here for four months when he left in the midst of a shouting match. Obi-Wan has been trying--unsuccessfully--to put Anakin out of his mind. And now Anakin’s growlithe is prancing towards him like it’s a special present to see him at all.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan murmurs, pausing in buttoning up his shirt so he can pet at the growlithe’s--what does Anakin call him again?--muzzle. For a second, the Pokémon nuzzles back, scenting his face and neck as territorial Pokémon are wont to do, before it moves quickly forward and grabs Obi-Wan by the shirt, swinging him up onto its back.

Out of shock and a latent survival instinct, Obi-Wan drops the rest of his clothes and clings to the Pokémon’s back. “Shit!” is on the tip of his tongue the entire two minutes it takes to bound back to the fence, over it and through the welcome doors of his own Daycare.

Anakin is standing, back to the entrance, furiously tapping the bell on the desk, looking somehow both desperate and bored.

Growlithe barks once, twice, and shakes himself hard enough that Obi-Wan knows to let go before he gets rolled over upon.

It’s not the most graceful entrance he would have chosen after going months without seeing Anakin, to land on his back, partially dressed and smelling like the sea at the Pokémon trainer’s feet.

Anakin at least has the wherewithal to be both surprised and immediately worried. “Obi-Wan!” he yelps, turning around immediately upon his growlithe’s bark of victory.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan says dryly sitting up from his sprawl and combing a nervous hand through his hair.

“Where are your clothes?” Anakin asks shrilly, turning a very interesting shade of magenta and looking quickly away from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan couldn’t be more different, what with the way he looks at Anakin as if he’s starved for the sight of him. It’s been several long months since they last saw each other. The fight had been...awful, to say the least. Anakin had accused him of not really wanting him to succeed. Obi-Wan had accused him of the same tunnel vision he diagnoses most young adults to have.

Neither had been true. Obi-Wan hadn’t even meant it, but he’d been mad. He’d been mad that Anakin hadn’t even thought to listen to him more than a Gym Leader he’d just defeated.

Palpatine had urged him to go straight to the League. Obi-Wan had thought it prudent to return home to his mother, give his Pokémon a break, work his way to the island of the Pokémon League naturally as a means of bonding with and further testing his Pokémon. He has no idea who Anakin ended up listening to. It’s been something that has haunted him for weeks.

“Out in the back,” Obi-Wan grunts, standing and trying to pick up the shattered pieces of his dignity under the Pokémon trainer’s wide-eyed stare. Anakin’s grown older in the past few months, his face sharper. What is he now, newly twenty-three? Halfway to twenty-four? “Your Growlithe was quite enthusiastic to bring me here as soon as possible.”

Anakin flushes and looks down at his feet. He looks tired, Obi-Wan decides. Like he’s walked the entire continent just to show up at his door.

“Sorry,” Anakin says sheepishly. “I had--”

“Him out and walking with you, I know,” Obi-Wan finishes with a fond shake of his head. He buttons the last necessary button on his shirt and sweeps past Anakin to stand behind his desk. “You always liked having one of them out with you. How’s your Jolteon?”

“Twilight?” Anakin asks, sounding surprised Obi-Wan even remembered he had a jolteon. He tries not to feel offended. It’s an unfortunate truth that Obi-Wan remembers almost everything about Anakin, the trainer that used to hang around his daycare as though he couldn’t bear to step more than fifty paces from his front door. “He’s fine. A bit angry with me, I think.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asks, furrowing his brow as he looks up at his guest. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Anakin is quiet for a few seconds, and his hands clench down on the edge of the counter-top. When he speaks, his voice wavers. “Obi-Wan...do you think my Pokémon love me? Like, do you think I am a good trainer?”

Obi-Wan stares at him. This isn’t a conversation he should have without pants on, he decides. He slowly puts his pen down. “What happened, Anakin?” he asks gently, reaching out and laying a hand on the arm Anakin still has resting against the counter.

“I lost,” his favorite trainer whispers, looking down. Growlithe--Resolute, that’s what Anakin had named him--noses into the nape of his neck. Obi-Wan is not jealous. “I challenged the Elite Four, and I lost in the second round.”

Obi-Wan’s hand tightens completely involuntarily. He hates hearing that after their years-long friendship, the last few years where he’d thought perhaps they were on the verge of being something more, despite his reservations, Anakin had listened to Palpatine over him. Palpatine.

“Come around back here,” he instructs after a second’s thought. Somehow, still, after all these months, he thinks he knows what Anakin needs. “And release all of your Pokémon from their Pokéballs.”

“All of them?” Anakin asks, sounding so unsure Obi-Wan’s heart aches with the doubt of it all before he reigns that in. This isn’t about him.

This isn’t about him, but he can’t stop himself from asking, just once, “Yes. Do you trust me?”

Anakin’s fingers hesitate on the seal of his first Pokéball, and Obi-Wan’s heart jumps into his throat. “Yeah,” Anakin finally says gruffly, pressing the release. “Yeah, I do.”

His altaria pops out of her Pokéball with a trill and a flap of her cloud-shaped wings. He just catches a hint of the jolteon materialize into existence before he turns his back. “I’m going to put on proper clothes,” he tells Anakin over his shoulder. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m sure your Pokémon will remember half the ones here.”

And all of the ones Obi-Wan calls his own, he doesn’t add. Anakin should know. Anakin’s known them since he was fifteen years old and surly over the fact that his mother wouldn’t let him go out and hunt legendary Pokémon until he finished schooling.

He finds his abandoned clothes quickly, and shuffles into them. Flareon noses around him curiously, with more than a bit of excitement. She probably smells Anakin on him. The thought doesn’t warm his cheeks, but if it does, he’ll blame it on the sudden amount of heat she’s giving off.

He leaves his shirt as is and doesn’t even bother with the vest or tie. He’s not here to be Professor Kenobi. He’s here to be Obi-Wan, Anakin’s friend. That’s what Anakin needs from him right now. A friend.

He fixes his hair anyway in a mad bout of nerves, but no one, not even his mienshao or flareon, obsessed with appearances as they are, are paying enough attention to him in order to soothe his sudden insecurities.

More than anything, he wants to be back in the sea, surrounded by the gyarados’ coils. He doesn’t understand humans as much as he would like to, and he certainly doesn’t understand Anakin. Not anymore. Perhaps he never did.

His flareon bumps at his wrist with the crown of her head and he looks down with a sigh. “Someone’s excited, I see,” he murmurs wryly, smoothing down the stuck-up fur of her hair and chest mane. She purrs. “Not the most excited though,” he adds with a huff as he sees a blur of white and blue from the corner of his eyes as the female Meowstic who spends most of her time strolling the parameter of the Daycare abandons her position to dart towards the backdoors where a newly emerged navy male Meowstic stands waiting.

They collide and curl into each other, two halves of one whole brought back together.

Well, that’s as good as any sign to approach Anakin, who has decided to collapse on the soft grass of the enclosure. Other than the Meowstic, his freed Pokémon have curled around him. The jolteon, Artoo, rests by his head, while his charizard, Mustafar, brackets the length of his body with his own. The growlithe sits watchful at his feet, while a new, unfamiliar pancham curls up on his chest. Finally, his gallade sits cross-legged to his side.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan drawls before he can help himself, “It’s very obvious that your Pokémon don’t love you.”

Anakin bolts upright at the sound of his voice. The pancham growls at him, a baby noise that Obi-Wan didn’t necessarily think the species capable of.

The Pokémon trainer hushes it quickly with a stern, “Vader, no.”

Obi-Wan comes to sit cross-legged in front of the man. “You didn’t have a pancham last time,” he says easily. What he really wants to ask is much more complicated. He wants to know everything. He wants to know how Anakin changed. When. Why. He wants to know what’s still the same.

It’s always complicated when it comes to Anakin. It’s never been easy.

“He was injured when I found him,” Anakin admits, stroking the top of Vader’s head. “But a fighter. I think I was injured when I found him too.”

The man seems so lost in his own recollections that Obi-Wan hates to interrupt. Carefully, Anakin’s jolteon, Twilight, noses his hand. When he’s not pushed away, he jumps into Obi-Wan’s lap with a trill. Flareon lets out a hiss, but acquiesces when the jolteon licks at her snout, accepting her ownership of Obi-Wan.

“I had just lost,” Anakin says slowly. “I wanted to come back here, rent a Lapras and just ride until I saw the shoreline I knew was yours. But I didn’t know what you’d say to me. How mad you’d still be.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip. He wouldn’t have been mad. He’d been worried, from the second Anakin left his property. But how to tell the man that? Would the other even want to hear it? Would he think Obi-Wan was trying to infantilize him, to protect him?

“I didn’t want you to be right.” Anakin whispers, arms tightening around the Pokémon. “I didn’t want you to be right and say that I wasn’t ready. And then I was in the forest, walking home, and I found this guy. He’d been attacked by a bug pokémon who was probably a higher level. But he was so angry still. I...I wanted him on my team. I needed that fire back.”

Obi-Wan suddenly thinks that there’s much more distance between them than there should be. He wants to be hugging Anakin, to be kissing his temple. These were allowances they had given each other before the fight, things that Obi-Wan had squirreled away, close to his heart.

He wants them back.

“But I keep thinking about how the professor who gave me my first Pokémon told this guy I beat in my first battle that he lost because he didn’t love his Pokémon right, and I...I’m just worried that’s why I lost.” Anakin stares down at his pancham, who puts his paws on his cheeks and pats a few times.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs. He thinks it sounds too fond, too revealing, but Anakin looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “I’ve never known a trainer to love his Pokémon more, dear one.”

“Then why?” Anakin asks plaintively, scooting forward until their knees brush. “Why did I lose? The gym leader of Cinnabar Island told me I would win!”

Obi-Wan, quite maturely in his opinion, doesn’t mention the fact that the recently defeated Palpatine probably had ulterior motives for Anakin to challenge the league too quickly and then fail. “You weren’t ready, Anakin,” he says instead, placing his hand on the other’s knee and holding it even when the trainer jerks out of his grp. “Please, listen. It's about sheer time, training experience. It’s not about you or your relationship to your Pokémon. You have such an amazing, strong relationship with them! They love you. Anyone could tell. And you’re not lacking in skill either. I know your mind is sharp and ready for battle.”

Anakin looks at him teary-eyed. “I’ve been so worried that maybe they didn’t know I loved them,” he admits in a wavering voice.

Obi-Wan can’t resist moving impossibly closer to his trainer. “Oh, Anakin, of course they do. Pokémon don’t always express or interpret love the same way humans do, but they do have their own ways of showing it.”

“Like what?” Anakin sniffles, wiping at his wet eyes. If Obi-Wan had really been listening, he would have noticed the change in his tone. As it is, he continues immediately, too focused on trying to stop his trainer from crying to think of anything else.

“A fire-type Pokémon wil try to warm you if they think you’re cold, even if it means staying up all night to keep you in in its flame. And fighting-type Pokémon are capable of throwing a blanket over you if they think you need to rest. Psychic-types have been known to read their trainer’s emotions and either hug them or give them distance whenever they want. Ground- and bug-type have been known to bring berries to their trainers to get them something to eat, and electric--why are you looking at me like that?” Anakin’s nascent smirk grows bigger at this interruption and he cocks his head to the side as he studies Obi-Wan’s face. “And what does it say about a man who spends all of his time around Pokémon, that he would do those exact same things for me?”

Obi-Wan at least understands enough to scurry backwards a few paces, much to the jolteon in his lap’s distress, who jumps away with a huff.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he says quickly.

Anakin inches forward, setting the pancham, Vader, aside. He really has grown in the past few months. The loss of the League, the months apparently spent on the road, have aged him so that he’s both recognizable and something new and wild. “What if I knew of a man,” Anakin murmurs, falling to his palms as he closes the gap between them. “One who warmed me when I was cold, covered me when I was tired, hugged me when I was needy, and fed me when I was hungry? What would that mean, in terms of Pokémon?”

Obi-Wan swallows nervously. His entire body is bracketed by Anakin. Anakin, who seems to have discovered his most-guarded secret in their months apart. Anakin, who is hovering over him now with a dark look in his eyes. Finally something in Obi-Wan gives way. This is it. He will give Anakin everything he asks for. Everything he needs. He’s always tried to do this exact thing.

“I suppose that would mean he loved you,” he whispers, closing his eyes so he does not have to see Anakin’s recoil, Anakin’s disgust.

Anakin hums instead. “Obi-Wan,” he whispers, exhale hitting his lips. “Obi-Wan, open your eyes. There’s nothing to be scared of, beloved. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

At these words, Obi-Wan’s eyes jump open of their own accord. Anakin’s lips press down onto his in a movement just as sudden. He whimpers involuntarily and reaches up to clutch at the trainer’s hair, hold him to his mouth. Just as involuntarily, his lips part and Anakin’s tongue licks around the gap before darting inside. He moans. It’s shameful, the way he goes from scared to sucking on Anakin’s tongue as if he’ll die without the warm intrusion of it.

It hardly feels like the first time they’ve kissed. It feels like they’ve been kissing for years, like Anakin knows his mouth completely and utterly.

There are so many secrets left between them. Obi-Wan’s one unopened Pokéball, sitting on his belt. Anakin’s relationship with that last Gym leader. What he’s been doing these past few months. What Obi-Wan Kenobi made his fortune off of.

But none of it matters now. Not here at this moment. All that matters is showing Anakin that he’s been just as missed, just as wanted.

With that in mind, Obi-Wan rolls on top of his trainer and shoves his hands up inside Anakin’s shirt to trace along the muscles of his chest and back. This was his. His, his, his. He had come back to him. Everything else could wait.

[foreteller-ava]

I Will Stay With You

AO3 | FFN

Summary: What Ahsoka said to Anakin on Mortis won't leave his head.

A/N: I did not proof read this or beta it. I don't do that often but eh, it happens.

Nobody could prove that after arriving on the ship, Anakin had been avoiding Ahsoka.

There had been a lot of paperwork to file on the strange signal and how, as far as the GAR and the Jedi Council needed to be concerned, nothing had been there for them to investigate. Since it was officially a mission the 501st had been sent on, it had been Anakin's job to do the paperwork. And if he'd hidden in on board quarters a little bit later than expected to make a call to Padmé after getting the worst feeling that she wasn't okay, then that wasn't an out of character action for him either.

There wasn't a way for Anakin to lie to himself that he was avoiding Ahsoka, however. It hadn't hit him in the moment, the desire to keep her safe and get off the planet had taken precedence to anything else, but now that he was safe, that they were all safe, Anakin couldn't stop replaying the fight against her in his head. When she'd been controlled by the Son, when she'd been taken by the Dark side for that brief moment.

When he'd held her cold body after the Son had stolen the life from her for what could have been for good had it not been for the Daughter's sacrifice.

He shouldn't be lingering on something that hadn't even stuck, but the idea that he could lose her forever had struck him. It was such a terrifying thought. Ahsoka was his Padawan, she was his responsibility, and he couldn't imagine the idea of failing to save her, not now. Not when she'd hidden so much resentment for him that he hadn't even known about.

Logically, he knew the words that had left her mouth when she'd fought him were nothing more than empty words said by the Son, but the idea that she secretly hated him and everything he did with her, the idea that she thought he didn't trust her, they were burning at him inside.

So Anakin had decided to do what he does best and avoid the problem entirely. He could avoid talking to her until they got back to Coruscant, spend a few days outside of the temple until the thought and fears were out of his mind, and then finally he could resume teaching her as though Mortis hadn't happened. It was what she would want, and it was what he would find easiest to handle. He was sure Obi-Wan could handle teaching her until then.

A knock on the door disrupted his thoughts as he finished up the paperwork in front of him. "Doors open!"

The door slid open moments later, Anakin waiting to hear what whatever clone it was had decided he wanted to bring up. "Hey Master!" Before she could say anything else, Anakin spun around to see Ahsoka standing in the doorway. "I was hoping you'd be here, I've been looking all over for–"

"Ahsoka?" He stared at her for a moment. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, if you hadn't interrupted me, you would've known I was in here looking for you. Rex was asking a lot of questions about what happened, and I figured it'd be better if you were the one to answer them since it was your idea we don't tell the Jedi what was going on." Ahsoka rolled her eyes, sitting down on the bed.

Anakin frowned. "Tell him not to worry. I'll see him when we get back. I've got to finish writing the reports."

"Reports you never write." Ahsoka pointed out. Anakin attempted not to wince at the accusation that he might not have heard otherwise. "Come on Skyguy, we both know it wouldn't take you this long normally. Rex and I are worried about you. Obi-Wan too."

Anakin clenched his hands. "I'm fine Ahsoka, just drop it."

"You're obviously not fine if you're acting like this!" Ahsoka had shouted at him, but her voice dropped moments later. "All three of us went through the same thing on Mortis. Whatever's going on, even if you can't talk to Rex, you can talk to Obi-Wan and I. We want to help."

"Do you really?" The comment escaped from Anakin's mouth before he could stop it, and he was immediately filled with regret when Ahsoka stepped back, as though hurt. "Sorry, I just…"

"You think I don't care about you?" Ahsoka's shock leaked into the Force, and all Anakin could feel was more guilt from asking the question, the one he'd been avoiding Ahsoka for just so he wouldn't ask. "How could you even think that?"

Anakin didn't answer. How could he even answer that fairly to her? This is why he just wanted to avoid her until he was sure the thoughts were long since beaten out of his brain. "Don't worry about it Sni–"

"Don't call me that! I hate it when you call me that!"

"–Ahsoka." He caught himself before he finished calling her that, the memory of her hating the teasing nickname he'd given her burning him up from the inside even now. "I'm just tired from everything, that's all."

He'd hoped his tone had left no room for debate, but it seemed as though Ahsoka wasn't about to let it go. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Would I be lying to you if I wasn't?"

"Yes." Ahsoka's answer left no room for debate, but Anakin wasn't in the mood to entertain it either. Ahsoka continued to watch him, not leaving, but not saying anything either.

Anakin was content to just let her sit there in silence if that was what she wanted, and continued to fake working on his fake paperwork when Ahsoka spoke up again. "You've never stopped yourself from calling me 'Snips' before."

Despite what she had said under the influence of the Son, Anakin could detect a bit of hurt in her voice, which gave him pause enough for him to answer. "You said you didn't like it."

"When did I ever say that?" she asked.

"Back on Mortis. While you were under the Son's control, you said you hated the nickname, so I figured I should stop using it." It wasn't something Anakin would forget easily. He wanted to keep quiet about the rest, but it was hard to keep anything in once he'd started. "You said a lot of things, actually."

Ahsoka shook her head and laughed. "Come on Skyguy, you know I didn't mean anything I said then, right?" When Anakin didn't answer, Ahsoka's expression became more serious. "What did I say?"

"Ahsoka, this isn't your burden to make me feel better about it." Anakin would not tell Ahsoka anything more about this. He just had to make it to Coruscant without revealing anything more of what was going through his head. He just had to get her to leave. He just had to stop the reminders of their fight from circulating there and he'd be fine.

"Master, I know you don't want to tell me, and that's fine, but…" She sighed. It was clear she wanted to counteract what the Son had said directly, but couldn't without Anakin elaborating. "Whatever it was, I never meant any of it. You have to know that."

"I know." Deep down, he did. He always would. Just as he would burn down the world for Ahsoka, he knew she would do the same for him. Ignoring the sting of what she'd said to him, however, was another story. "And you know that I trust you? And that I'm proud of you, right? Because if you don't, I can't imagine there's anybody I'd be more proud of. You're my Padawan and I–"

She put up her hand, stopping his words in his tracks, as though just from his reassurances of how much she meant to him, Ahsoka knew just what she had said. "I know." She pulled him into a quick hug, and Anakin returned it, trying to soak in Ahsoka's emotions, to truly know that she knew he had faith in her, and that he wanted her around. That his first impressions were wrong and he couldn't imagine a better Padawan.

Ahsoka broke the hug first, a smile on her face. "If you still want to be alone, I'll leave you to your paperwork, but Anakin, there's no one I'd rather have for a master than you."

It was rare for Ahsoka to use his first name, he wasn't sure he could remember the last time she'd said it to him, if she ever had, and to him, it showed just how serious she was.

The thoughts and insecurities that had swirled around in his head since Mortis had finally stopped, and Anakin smiled as he ran to catch up with her. "Hey Snips, maybe just a couple of matches wouldn't hurt before I go finish up the mission debrief." She smiled as he caught up to her, and the two kept pace.

Maybe he wasn't the master that Ahsoka deserved, or even if he was the best master she could have, and maybe there was some resentment buried deep down and what the Son had had her say on Mortis was the truth of how she felt.

But just like he'd chosen and loved her, she'd chosen and loved him, and for Anakin, that was enough.

[professorkenobi]

bathtime

read the previous part here!

The rush of running water echoed off the walls of Obi-Wan’s upstairs bathroom. He tested the temperature with a hum of satisfaction before flipping the brass lever that controlled the drain.

It was well past time that his bathtub got some use. The huge old thing had been touted as a selling point by his realtor, but he’d really selected the house for its proximity to work. He didn’t have the time or inclination to lounge about, preferring to stick to economical morning showers. 

Hopefully Anakin would enjoy it. 

Knowing the tub would take a few minutes to fill, Obi-Wan headed downstairs. The itch of apprehension whenever he let Anakin out of his sight was quickly becoming familiar— as was the wash of relief when he found him where he’d left him. 

Approximately, anyway. He’d gotten up and was examining the sparse decorations on the fridge. At a small clear of Obi-Wan’s throat, his ears twitched and he jerked back with a guilty look. 

Obi-Wan smiled gently. “Nothing interesting there, I’m afraid.” 

“I wasn’t—” 

“It’s fine to be curious; ask me anything you like.” 

Even in the dim light, the conflict of opposing impulses was clearly visible on that expressive face. Obi-Wan had to stifle a smile.

Finally, inquisitiveness won out.

“Why do you have this?” Anakin jabbed a finger at his copy of the year’s academic calendar. 

“Oh, that?” He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. “I teach there. I’m a professor of sociology.”  

Anakin wrinkled his nose. “Really? Aren’t most professors, you know...” 

“What?”

“Um. Old?” 

This time Obi-Wan couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Indeed we are. And terribly boring, I’m sure you’ll find.” 

He’d hoped to draw out a smile. If he had, it was hidden as Anakin curled in on himself, beginning to shiver again. The sight was perturbing, unacceptable.

“Will you come with me? Your bath should be nearly ready.”

Anakin ducked his head and followed.

The air in the bathroom was muggy, the mirror fogged with steam. Obi-Wan turned off the water while his guest watched, fidgeting, from the doorway. 

“There we are. If it’s too hot, you can just— well, I’m sure you know.” He winced internally. He wasn’t used to stumbling over his words like this, but then again he was hardly used to overnight guests, either. 

“I got it,” said Anakin, taking a few apprehensive steps towards the tub. 

“I’ll be nearby if you need anything,” Obi-Wan promised. He turned to leave but paused at the threshold as a thought occurred to him. “Oh— if you leave your wet things outside the door, I’ll throw them in the laundry. You can borrow something of mine for the night.”

Anakin gave a jerky nod, still staring at the water like it might bite him. 

“Remember,” he repeated, “Whatever you need.” 

Obi-Wan closed the door, shutting in the heat and humidity. Right. Clothes. Pajamas would do for now. He walked purposefully to the bedroom, meaning to fetch them right away, but as soon as he entered his legs went oddly weak and shaky. His neatly made bed awaited him; Obi-Wan sat down heavily, fingers twisting in the duvet. 

For the first time since Anakin had knocked on his door, he was alone. He pinched the bridge of his nose, doing his best to push back an impending headache as his thoughts raced to catalogue the implications of the night’s events.

He’d let a complete stranger into his home, his sanctuary, without even hesitating. Anakin had been far from forthcoming about his situation, but it was clear he was in some sort of trouble. Something serious, perhaps beyond what had landed him on the streets and in Obi-Wan’s backyard in the first place. He might be risking his own safety, all for a boy whose last name he didn’t even know. 

Alone in the dark, Obi-Wan sat with these facts, turning them over and over in his mind. What was he doing? Was he being gullible, a fool? 

A slight splashing, the sound of a body getting comfortable in a hot bath, filtered in from down the hall. 

With a rising sense of certainty that he rarely experienced, Obi-Wan realized that he didn’t care. He didn’t care what kind of mess Anakin was caught up in. He didn’t care what he’d done to end up here, or what the consequences might be. 

From the moment he’d laid eyes on Anakin, Obi-Wan had been seized with an inexplicable desire to protect him. To care for him. And Anakin... Anakin had asked him, begged him, for help. 

To turn him away was, quite simply, an impossibility. 

Obi-Wan breathed slow and deliberate, in through his nose and out through his mouth, until he felt calm again. His knees were still a little weak, but he felt much better by the time he’d managed to dig out his spare pajamas and return to the hallway. 

Anakin’s clothes lay by the bathroom in a crumpled pile. As Obi-Wan bent to pick them up, he froze at a sound from the other side of the door. He almost thought it was his imagination until he heard it again, this time unmistakable— a small, hiccuping sob. 

“Anakin,” He pressed his face to the doorframe. “Is something the matter?” 

“‘m fine,” came the muffled response. 

“Are you sure? You don’t sound fine.” 

“It’s just,” he sniffled. “My hair, I can’t... it hurts.” 

Obi-Wan frowned, at a loss. “What do you mean? Is there something I could do, bring you something or...” 

A short pause, and then, 

“Can you help me?” 

“Help you?” He must be hearing things. Surely, Anakin wouldn’t want him to... “You mean, come in there and... and what?”

Anakin sniffled again. “I’m sorry, it was stupid, please just forget I asked—”

“No!” Obi-Wan interjected, far too sharply. He shook himself and tried for a softer tone. “No. It’s good that you asked. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all. Are you sure that’s what you want?” 

Another pause. “...yeah, okay.” 

“Alright.” This night was getting more surreal by the minute. He took a deep breath and put his hand on the doorknob. “I’m coming in now.” 

Obi-Wan opened the door slowly, leaving plenty of time for a change of heart. He was determined not to look unnecessarily, but he could make out Anakin in his peripheral vision. His back was to Obi-Wan, his head hung on drawn-up knees. His tail hung over the side of the tub, slowly dripping water onto the floor. Every few seconds, he drew a ragged little breath that echoed too loudly in the tiny space. 

Obi-Wan could scarcely stand it. 

“What do you need me to do?”

Anakin glanced back over his shoulder with puffy eyes. “It’s all this,” he said miserably. “It’s a mess and I can’t, I can’t fix it.” He lifted a hand out of the water to run over the back of his hair. Obi-Wan’s eyes caught on the pale golden skin of his arm, the graceful line of it that bent to a broad back flushed pink with heat, the curve of his spine disappearing beyond— stop it. 

He was here to help, not— whatever that was. 

A few cautious steps put him within arms reach. “May I?” 

“Yeah.” 

A single brush of Obi-Wan’s hand made the problem clear; Anakin’s curls were snarled and matted, doubtlessly from the depridations of wind and rain. The process of detangling would be painful, perhaps downright impossible with the claws Anakin was sporting. 

He tutted softly. “I see. We’ll get this sorted out.” 

Obi-Wan fetched a bottle from the shower and rummaged in his grooming kit for a wide-toothed comb, grateful for a few moments where he didn’t have to rigidly control where his eyes were pointing.

“What’s that?” Anakin asked suspiciously, craning his neck to see what was going on.

“Conditioner.” Obi-Wan knelt on the bathmat and set the comb aside, again doing his very best not to look at Anakin’s shoulders.  “I don’t have to use it, but it’ll ease the way quite a bit.” 

“It’s fine, I’ve just—” Anakin looked down. “I’ve never really used stuff like that.” 

“First time for everything,” Obi-Wan said lightly, dispensing a large dollop into his hand. “Ready?” 

At a short nod, he began to apply the conditioner, starting at the crown and carefully distributing it through the messy locks. The parts that weren’t tangled were very soft, slipping pleasantly between his fingers. He wasn’t quite sure what to do about Anakin’s ears, which twitched slightly in response to each touch. It looked like Anakin had avoided them in his attempts to re-wet his own hair, so Obi-Wan tried to do the same. 

After a few seconds, Anakin made a tiny oh. 

“What is it?” 

“It, um, smells like you.” 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “You can smell me?” He wondered if that was an ability that came with Anakin’s more... unusual features.

“Yeah,” Anakin admitted, dragging a finger along the surface of the water. “It’s nice.” 

“Er.” 

“The conditioner, I mean.” 

“Oh.” Obi-Wan cleared his throat awkwardly. “Good.” 

Anakin’s hair was now covered in conditioner, as were his hands. Unwilling to dip them in the bathwater, so close to Anakin’s body, he opted to wipe them on the nearby hand towel with a grimace. Then he took up the comb, hoping for the best. It would be a shame to cut any of that beautiful hair.

As Obi-Wan gathered up the ends, his knuckles rubbed across the nape of Anakin’s neck. He felt rather than saw the damp skin erupt in gooseflesh, peach fuzz brushing softly against his fingers. 

Anakin didn’t move, nor did he make a sound when Obi-Wan began to comb through the tangles. Though he was as careful as he could be, the sharp tugs required to undo the worst of them must have been painful. But Anakin made no complaint but an occasional quick intake of breath. He just stared down at the water, quietly allowing Obi-Wan to see to him.

For the second time that night, Obi-Wan felt unsteady with realization. It suddenly occurred to him how petty his concerns had been. Whatever fear he’d experienced was infinitesimal compared to how Anakin must be feeling right now, in the house of a near stranger with no way of ascertaining his intentions. 

Anakin was hurt and alone. Naked and vulnerable. 

And yet somehow he trusted Obi-Wan to be near him, to touch him. 

He had to let Anakin know that his trust was not misplaced. That Obi-Wan would protect him, take care of him. That he was safe. 

Still moving the comb in steady strokes, he searched for the right words. 

“Anakin— I want you to know that, well... I’m in your corner, alright? Whatever is going on, whatever kind of trouble you’re in, you have me on your side.” 

“No, you’re not,” said Anakin in a hollow voice. “You don’t know.” 

Obi-Wan hummed as he finished undoing a particularly nasty snarl. 

“I know you won’t give me details, but answer me this. Did you hurt someone? Beyond the bounds of self defense, I mean,” he added hastily. 

“No, but—” 

Obi-Wan continued, speaking over him. “And do you plan to hurt me?” 

“Of course not.” The response carried just a tinge of defensive fire, making Obi-Wan smile. 

“Then you have me on your side, for whatever you might need.” 

Anakin flicked at the bathwater dispiritedly. “What does it matter? I’ll be gone tomorrow, anyway.” 

A sudden, overwhelming surge of protectiveness made his hand involuntarily tighten in Anakin’s hair. No, he wanted to say. You’ll stay here, with me, where you’re safe. 

That was something he had no right to decide or even ask. Obi-Wan mastered himself, loosening his grip and clenching his jaw until he was sure something less wildly inappropriate would come out. 

“That doesn’t have to be the case,” he said tentatively, beginning to comb again. He was working on the front pieces now, nearly finished.  “Not if you don’t want it to be.” 

“I... I don’t understand.” 

“If you wish to leave, of course I won’t stand in your way. But should you need a place to stay... it can be here. For as long as you need.” 

Anakin’s ears flattened. “Don’t say that!” he snapped, then almost inaudibly added, “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do,” said Obi-Wan gently. 

“You don’t,” Anakin whispered. He hunched forward in the tub, wrapping his arms around his knees in a tight, self-protective hold. 

“I do, but there’s no need to decide yet.” Obi-Wan said lightly, setting aside the comb. “Let’s just get this all rinsed out, shall we?” 

If Anakin wouldn’t stay, he could at least do his best to take care of him until he left. Obi-Wan opened the tap again, letting more warm water flow into the bathtub, and gently guided Anakin underneath. Anakin was pliant under his hands, allowing Obi-Wan to tilt his head this way and that as he rubbed gently at his scalp.

The ears presented a problem again. There was nothing for it but to carefully lift them, one by one, so he could scrub underneath. Obi-Wan thought they were by far the softest thing he’d ever felt. 

His fingers moved of their own volition, stroking for a split second until the ear twitched under his touch and he remembered himself. If Anakin made a sound, it was lost beneath the roar of water.

Finally, Anakin’s hair was clean, hanging back from his face in a sopping curtain. Obi-Wan regretfully eased his head forward and let go, deprived of the excuse to touch. 

What would happen now, he wondered. He could, should, dry off his hands and take his leave, show Anakin where to sleep and get some rest himself, and then...? It seemed all too clear, what he would find in the morning. An empty bed, an empty house. Anakin in the wind again, this time maybe forever. 

The thought was intolerable. 

Obi-Wan had to try. He dug deep to find the magic words, the perfect words that would convince Anakin to stay, and found nothing but the truth. 

It went against every instinct to say it, but it was the only card he had left to play. 

“About my offer,” he ventured, sitting back on his heels. 

“Yeah?” Anakin mumbled into his knees. 

“I wanted to let you know that, well... I would like it. If you stayed.” 

“W-what?” Anakin’s head lifted and his ears twitched slightly.

“It would make me happy. I—” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “I want you to stay.” 

He pressed his lips together, leaving the words to hang without any qualifiers or equivocations, even as the seconds stretched with no response. And then, in the stillness, Anakin began to tremble. 

“Anakin? What’s the matter, please tell me, I didn’t mean to upset you.” As if drawn by a magnet, Obi-Wan reached out a hand and rested it comfortingly on Anakin’s shoulder. It only shook more under his touch, and Anakin gasped in a harsh breath as silent sobs wracked his body. 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan continued frantically, “You don’t have to stay, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want... I’m sorry.” 

He knew he shouldn’t be touching Anakin, not when he’d overstepped like this, so he began to pull away— and froze, shocked, when a warm, wet hand wrapped around his own, keeping it in place. Holding it. 

Without warning and far too quickly, Anakin spun to face him. A tremendous surge of water drenched the floor and Obi-Wan’s pants. But he barely noticed, not as Anakin, very wet and very naked, leaned over the side of the tub and threw his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck. 

Anakin was hugging him. Obi-Wan froze in shock, but he didn’t seem to notice. He only sobbed harder, burying his face in Obi-Wan’s sweater. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him this tightly. The sharp points of Anakin’s claws grazed his back, and a silky ear tickled his skin. 

Slowly, tentatively, his arms lifted to return the embrace. He wasn’t quite sure where to put his hands, and settled for placing one on the middle of Anakin’s back, the other in his hair. 

“Shh...” he found himself whispering. “Shh... there, there.” He could hear Anakin crying now, choked breaths endlessly chasing each other out of his throat.  “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

Obi-Wan ran his fingers through Anakin’s damp curls, over and over, scratching lightly against his scalp. He held him, with no thoughts but to comfort him, to soothe whatever pain had him so undone. Slowly, slowly, the wracking sobs subsided, leaving Anakin hiccuping and sniffling into his shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, even as Anakin slipped out of his arms to curl in on himself once again, as floppy eared and despondent as before. 

This time, though, something felt different. A lingering warmth, the ghost of a touch, that perhaps stood a chance at melting the many barriers between them. 

Red-rimmed eyes flicked up to meet Obi-Wan’s, just for a moment. 

“Okay,” said Anakin. “I’ll stay.”

[starculler]

Whumptober 2021: Day 6

Word Count: 2271 || Read on AO3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Emotional Hurt

No violence. Only ✨emotions✨

Obi-Wan woke in a room not his own with the smell of blaster-fire and charred flesh in his nose, tasting it on his tongue so clearly that it nearly made him sick. He exhaled one long, slow breath that did nothing to purge the lingering traces of his nightmares, and opened his eyes to thick, black darkness. His brows furrowed, frowning as he struggled to clear the sleep-haze from his mind, a task that had grown considerably harder over the years. He spared a brief, token effort on remembering what he might have done, or where he’d gone, the day before to find himself in a stranger’s home, but only shrugged it off when nothing came to mind.

Perhaps, he mused with only a touch of sardonic humor, the suns’ heat had finally gotten to him and he’d broken into some poor farmer’s home. Whose, he hadn’t the faintest idea considering he only really visited one and this was, most certainly, not the Lars’ farmstead. He would know, he’d been inside once after all — a week spent in a guest room as he’d delivered little Luke to his aunt and uncle. Any subsequent visits had been … difficult.

Luke looked so much like his father sometimes.

He sighed, shoving the thought forcefully away, and focused once more on the room, straining see a little better. The walls, he noticed first, were bare except for a few occupied shelves whose contents he couldn’t even begin to guess at. A single window peered out into the world, tinted black by a light-blocking feature he remembered using … Before. The floor was much the same: spartan, with only a low table in one corner with a cushion to sit on and the bland bed roll he’d woken on. A bitter tang of nostalgia crawled up his throat, lodging there like a bottle’s stopper, and he struggled to swallow around it.

Shoving that away too, he clambered inelegantly to his feet — noticed he still wore the rattier robe and tunics he hadn’t been able to bring himself to eschew along with everything else — and made his way to the room’s singular exit. The door opened with barely a brush of his palm over the panel next to it. He made to move out into the home proper with a steadying hand laid on the frame’s cool metal. And froze.

“Anakin?”

His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, almost too soft to carry across the larger living space to the spitting image of the little boy he’d raised, failed, and left behind, burning on a bank of churning magma on Mustafar. He couldn’t breathe, lungs seizing and stuttering as they refused to work. He gripped the door’s frame harder, knuckles white and fingers little more than pricks of insignificant pain where they dug into the sharper edges. Anakin’s screaming roared in his ears, violent hatred and pain alike with faint echoes of the single plea he’d let slip from his lips somewhere in between before Obi-Wan had turned his back and waled away.

Anakin — oh Force it was Anakin — twisted around on his cushion, one hand braced on the long, low table in front oh him while the other lay flat on the floor, when he heard his name called. Obi-Wan’s gaze caught on his Padawan-braid, so short still that it barely brushed the boy’s — a boy. He was just a boy now, younger than twelve and a picture-perfect replica of the child who lived only in Obi-Wan’s memories and Luke’s shadow — shoulder.

“Master!” Anakin flashed him a bright grin, his blue eyes practically glittering with the strength of his joy. “You’re awake! Finally,” he said, excitement turning to a familiar teasing tone that tore Obi-Wan’s heart to shreds. “I almost thought you’d sleep for forever, and then who’d help with my lessons?”

The boy’s nose scrunched, his distaste for his lessons made clear in the way the word dropped from his mouth like a particularly foul piece of rotted food. Obi-Wan swayed where he stood, mouth suddenly drier than Tatooine’s desert as he stared. Then, faintly and feeling all too much like the very words he spoke had stolen free from him without permission, he said:

“Master Windu would, he’s told me so many times himself. He does so enjoy your company.”

It was a joke, one of several he’d indulged in often after having noticed Anakin’s distrust of the Council. A reassurance as much as something to make the boy laugh. Mace Windu had never told him he’d help with any of Anakin’s lessons, but Obi-Wan had never once seen the Master turn a youngling down when they asked him for help. Oh, he thought with a painful pang in his chest, Mace had loved the younglings, from the tiniest initiates in the Crèches all the way to the padawans, no matter what his severe countenance might have portrayed. He’d tried so hard to show that to Anakin, to teach him that Jedi — even and especially the Council — were, at their core, kind and compassionate. Had his Padawan ever truly known that, or was it another failure to be laid at Obi-Wan’s feet?

Anakin scoffed and rolled his eyes, still grinning. “Yeah, and I’m a heard of Bantha,” he said with a snicker. Obi-Wan’s mouth twitched despite how he wanted to be sick.

“You certainly smell like one,” Obi-Wan replied by rote, more of a murmur than the steady sarcasm he’d once thrown at his Padawan. Anakin squawked regardless, all faux-offense as he puffed himself up for a comeback, but deflated suddenly to squint at him instead.

“Are you feeling alright? You look…” Anakin floudered for a moment and settled on a bland, hesitant, “not good.”

“I,” Obi-Wan started. Stopped. Swallowed. “No,” He admitted, slow. Reluctant. “No, Padawan, I don’t think I am.”

The trembling in his hands hadn’t stopped and his chest still hurt and his stomach had managed to twist itself into nauseating knots as he stood there, still in the open doorway to the room, he realized, that had once been his at the Temple. Anakin’s eyes widened and he shot to his feet, anxiety flowing off him in sharp, erratic waves that only further soured the bitter, ashen taste in Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“Do you need a healer? Are you hurt? Kriff, uh, should I— I mean— I’ll go grab someone, Master, I’ll be right back, okay? Real quick, I—”

“No!” Obi-Wan winced. He hadn’t meant to shout. Hadn’t meant to put that hurt, wide-eyed look on his Padawan’s face. He’d just —

Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s familiar, blue lightsaber cut through another Jedi, horror curdling in his stomach. It was all he could do not to be sick, but he forced himself to continue looking at the security feed Master Yoda had found. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t be blind to this any more than he could turn back time and undo it. So he watched, ill, as his former Padawan, his friend, his brother, cut down Jedi after Padawan after Initiate until none at all remained in the place they had both called home.

“No,” he croaked, softer, blinking back the stinging heat in his eyes. He lifted the hand not helping keep him upright, clammy and shaking much more obviously than before, and made as if to reach out but stopped short. “No,” he said again, so low he barely heard himself, pulling his hand back to clutch at the fabric over his chest and wondered if he’d suffocate on his feet.

“Master?”

Anakin sounded so scared even as he took a tentative step forward, his hands fisted into the hem of his tunic. Obi-Wan wanted to rush to his side, to comfort him as he’d once done so many years ago. He wanted to run, to flee from the face of this apparition — the ghost of a boy who’d chosen to become a monster because he’d failed as a Master. He wanted to fall to his knees and weep: for this boy, for himself, for the scores of Jedi massacred to mark the end of an unjust war. For the galaxy being crushed under a Sith’s oppressive thumb. For the children of his former student, who would be called upon one day. Who would lose friends and family alike as they worked to dismantle the bloody legacy left to them.

He almost didn’t notice when his legs gave out, choking on his own ragged, wet breaths as Anakin cried out, alarmed, and ran to his side. Obi-Wan flinched away from those small, calloused hands when they reached for him, curling into himself as he struggled to breathe, but his Padawan was nothing if not determined.

He gasped when Anakin’s fingers brushed his arm, searing his skin through three layers of worn fabric. Whined when they traveled up to his shoulder, and hissed, a pained and wounded sound torn from him when Anakin pressed the palm of his hand to the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. Slowly, with a care he’d rarely seen in his Padawan, Anakin maneuvered himself in front of him, hunched and twisting as the hand on Obi-Wan’s neck pulled until he’d knocked their foreheads together.

How long had it been since he’d sat so near another sentient being he trusted? Since he’d been touched so familiarly? Kindly? Luke, perhaps. Little more than a toddler, freely affectionate with the man who’d carried him across the stars and sands to the home he’d remain in.

Obi-Wan didn’t settle. Didn’t calm. His breathing hitched and every inch of him shook so hard he thought his bones might rattle right out of his skin. The stinging bite of fresh tears lingered in his eyes and every limb was weighed down with the same deep exhaustion that had dogged him since he’d left Luke with the Lars’ and lost the only source of immediate responsibility he might have distracted himself with. He did, however, reach forward. Brushed his fingers over the front of Anakin’s tunic and felt the rough material, caustic and abrasive against the suddenly sensitive digits.

“Are you—” Obi-Wan swallowed painfully, his own saliva turning to grains of coarse sand. “Is this real?” he asked, whisper soft and broken. “Are you real, Anakin?” His padawan pressed harder against him in response, puffing out an incredulous breath.

Obi-Wan wondered if he’d melt from the heat of his brother-friend-Padawan’s touch, as skin-crawling as it was a burning, aching comfort for all it seemed to set him further on edge.

“I’m real,” Anakin said, voice strangled. Obi-Wan could taste his fear. Felt it soak into his skin and curl around his heart. “I’m real, Master, I promise. I’m here. I’m real.”

“Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s voice cracked on the name as a sudden desperation washed over him, urging him to reach out further. To pull and clutch and hold his Padawan as close as he could, breathing raggedly against his short, brown hair as Anakin hid his own face against his neck, letting a few tears soak into the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic. He rocked them both, letting Anakin hold on to him as to him as fiercely as he did his Padawan.

An eternity might have passed there between them as Anakin cried and Obi-Wan babbled — apologies and reassurance and a half dozen other words he’d meant to tell his Padawan over the years tumbling clumsily from his tongue — until the intensity eased, leaving them tired and tangled up together against the room’s cool wall. Obi-Wan let his eyes slip closed, just for a moment. Let himself soak in his brother’s presence, young and bright and much too old to be held like this, half asleep and slumped over him. But he didn’t let go.

He brushed his fingers over Anakin’s hair, short and bristly except for the bundle tied back into a short nerftail, and breathed in the citrus scent of the hair products his Padawan had favored those first few years in the Temple. Leaning his head back against the wall, he let himself drift into his thoughts. Into the Force. Out past the confines of the room, through the halls, and across the Temple, jaw clenching as he felt the bright, living presence of hundreds of Jedi. Thousands. So many his head spun.

His breathing hitched, and he wrapped his arms a fraction tighter around his Padawan. Strained to squeeze his eyes closed harder until he saw blurry, red shapes dance across the darkness behind his lids.

It felt so real.

This. His Padawan. The sights, smells, sounds, even the taste of the Temple’s chill air. Anakin had said he was real. Obi-Wan had squeezed him, had him currently in his arms safe and close and whole. He shuddered, exhaling a wavering, wet breath.

Perhaps, he let himself hope as he drew back to himself, it had been a vision. A warning from the Force — a life lived in the span of a few hours’ sleep. He let the thought comfort him, burying his nose in his Padawan’s hair as sleep slowly claimed him.

Obi-Wan woke in a room he recognized, the sweet, tangy scent of citrus thick in his nose, so vivid he could practically taste it. He exhaled one long, slow breath, letting himself savor it for a moment longer, and opened his eyes to bright light, sandy-colored walls, and the sweltering, suffocating heat of Tatooine’s long, dry days. His fingers curled into the rough, thin, ragged bedroll he’d all but tossed himself into the night before. Alone. Utterly and completely alone.

For the first time since his family were slaughtered at the hands of his student,

Obi-Wan wept.

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Obi-Wan is up late studying and his new Padawan sleeps next to him on their sofa. AN: @thenegoteator enables all my wishes for smol Padawan Anakin and Obi-Wan bonding so I hope you like this! Read on AO3!

Despite common misconceptions, the Jedi temple at night was still as busy as it was during the daytime. The many nocturnal members of the Order went about their daily life, training, teaching, learning, preparing for missions, and tracking down wayward Padawans deep in the temple building. Not as seldomly as they’d like to, they also sent one of their diurnal Jedi, awake despite their rhythm, to bed.

Sleep eluded them all often enough, visions and twisted dreams keeping them awake and as such, they all took care to ensure they did get a healthy dosage of sleep.

This was the precise reason Obi-Wan Kenobi was not in the archives but in his quarters.

He yawned for what felt like the twentieth time in the past ten minutes, staring at the light screen of his datapad.

It was the only source of light illuminating the dark room and consequently hurting his eyes. Obi-Wan could have turned on the main lights, but he hadn’t really expected to still be sitting here at this hour.

He should have gone to bed about four hours ago or so, he wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed and hesitated at checking the chronometer, but Obi-Wan also still was about two hours of work away from where he wanted to be with his thesis paper.

He didn’t have the time to sleep. Staying awake was an entirely reasonable course of action.

He reached for his cup of tea, black as the deepest voids of space. It wasn’t his favorite by any kind, but it did its job at keeping him awake better than any of his favorite teas or kaf did. When he raised his cup to his lips, he noticed that not only it was cold, but also almost empty. He could have sworn he had made it just ten minutes ago.

Displeased he set it on the living room table and sighed. Right, only about ten pages and a conclusion to go. Obi-Wan was able to work through those pages without any tea keeping him alert. He could, of course, get up and make himself another cup, but that also meant moving his small companion out of the way and possibly startling him awake.

Obi-Wan looked down at his lap where his Padawan was dead to the world, the rise and fall of the bundle being the only sign that Anakin was asleep. Obi-Wan could hardly see Anakin, wrapped up in three blankets as he was. Obi-Wan doubted that Anakin would learn to sleep with less than three layers any time soon.

His only visible feature was his crown of messy golden locks. Anakin had been up until just two hours ago, working on his own homework first, then had continued working on his sheer endless numbers of mouse droids and, when even that hadn’t kept him busy anymore, he had started drawing. Only after he had gotten too tired to hold onto his pencil had he started pestering Obi-Wan with questions about his paper until he had fallen asleep. At first, Anakin had been leaning against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, but the longer the night had gotten, the more did he slip off until he had ended up dropping into Obi-Wan’s lap where he was now snoring lightly.

Obi-Wan smiled at his Padawan, then gently so he wouldn’t wake him, ran his fingers through his hair. Anakin’s hair was surprisingly soft and, when the boy remembered to shower, smelled of spring flowers instead of motor oil.

He had a Padawan.

A small, cute, kind, and good-hearted Padawan who deserved a world that would treat him gently and the best of teachers who could guide him well.

And Obi-Wan had no idea how to handle him. He was doing his best and he was quite sure that he was at least on the right track, but he definitely could improve still.

But first, he had a paper to finish.

It was ridiculous.

He had been supposed to be done with it months ago. When his Master and he had been called to Naboo, Obi-Wan had just started writing it, a vague thesis in mind and some literature assembled. Most of the work had been in his head and constituted of the endless discussions Qui-Gon and he had had about the true nature of the Force. They had spent years discussing what it felt like what its purpose was – It was a heavy topic, and Obi-Wan could have gone with an easier one such as the traffic laws in Coruscant’s lower levels, but instead he had chosen to go with such a research-heavy field.

It was a chore and a half to work on this paper. Not so much writing the paper in and of itself, Obi-Wan happened to be one of those bastards who enjoyed writing up reports and forcing people to go through his elaborations on the banalest of topics. Handing his papers in had always been his utmost delight. There were very few sights that could compare to someone seeing that they’d have to proofread his paper.

No, the problem with his theses was the agonizing pain that came with every revisit to all the memories he had made with his Master. Getting even half a sentence transferred to the datapad was an ordeal Obi-Wan had never experienced before. Whenever he had to look up literature, he felt as if Qui-Gon was standing right beside him, commenting on the material, or quizzing him on it.

Qui-Gon would have a lot to say about his paper: Obi-Wan could just picture him making one remark after another, grilling him about every sentence and pointing out every flaw in his argumentation. Obi-Wan would hate every second of it, disagree with Qui-Gon on at least 215 accounts, but in the end, he’d hold his paper in his hands and could say that it had been a job well done indeed.

His Master would be proud.

His Master wasn’t here to see it.

Anakin whimpered.

Obi-Wan looked down at his Padawan again and soothingly ran his fingers through his hair again, sending him reassurance over their bond, hoping his emotions would reach his young charge even when he was asleep. Anakin, for all that he enjoyed talking a lot, was a very quiet child when he wanted to be. He didn’t make a lot of noise when he moved through their quarters, he hardly made any noise when he was sleeping. He didn’t let out a single cry despite the nightmares that must be haunting him now.

Obi-Wan began to hum a melody that had been sung to him in the creche. It was meant to calm children down during or after nightmares. Obi-Wan had always been prone to such, visions of darkness, death, and decay haunting him. Soon after he began singing, his Padawan calmed down and returned to an easy sleep.

Obi-Wan smiled down at Anakin’s form. It was nice that at least one of them could catch a couple of hours of sweet rest.

Sighing, Obi-Wan focused on the text on his datapad and began re-reading his last paragraphs.

He hadn’t typed anything that made any sense for the couple last hours. It was ridiculous.

“I should stop,” Obi-Wan muttered. “This is useless when I’m tired.”

Frustrated, he saved the document and then turned out the datapad, leaving himself in total darkness with only the weight of Anakin as a gentle reminder that he wasn’t truly lonely.

For a moment Obi-Wan contemplated just staying like this and sleeping here. He didn’t want to move, he was semi-comfortable, and Anakin by his side was more than enough comfort.

But he did have a bed with a good mattress, and so did Anakin. As his Master, Obi-Wan should set a good precedent for Anakin and follow healthy habits, avoid falling asleep on the sofa where his neck would make him pay for it in the morning.

Slowly, Obi-Wan pushed Anakin of his lap. The boy grumbled and Obi-Wan froze, not daring to move an inch. He breathed in and out, once twice, but Anakin kept on sleeping, still knocked out. Obi-Wan suppressed a laugh and then stood up in one swift move. Once standing, he cracked his bones and neck so that the stiffness would disappear from his body. If he didn’t take care of his body now, it would come back to haunt him when he attempted any of his usual Ataru sequences.

Not that Obi-Wan had been doing many of those lately. Form IV had become uncomfortable since Naboo, but he had yet to find something easier. A few of the Soresu practitioners had pointed out that he seemed to be well suited to it, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure.

Sighing yet once more and putting the thought aside for another day, he then turned around to his Padawan and scooped him up in his arms. It was good that Anakin was so small still and didn’t weigh too much. With the boy settled in his arms, drooling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, he walked past the many datapads spread across the ground and carried Anakin to his room. He opened up the room and danced past the various droid parts carelessly thrown everywhere until he reached Anakin’s bed. With careless use of the Force, he threw back Anakin’s other two blankets before setting the boy down. He considered moving Anakin out of the cocoon to spread out the blankets properly but figured it wasn’t worth the effort. He’d just roll himself up in them again. Instead, he grabbed the two remaining blankets and tugged him in, his covers secured so that no air would get in.

“Good night, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said and turned around to leave.

He had not stepped two feet away from the door when he heard a soft, “Obi?”

Anakin had woken up.

“Yes, Anakin?” Obi-Wan looked at his Padawan again who was now staring at him with his bright blue eyes and the kind of look that Obi-Wan knew he wouldn’t be able to deny him anything.

“Can you sleep here tonight?”

“I-“ Obi-Wan hesitated for a split-second. He had his own bed to return to, one that was made for an adult and not a child, with his own blanket and pillows.

“Sure,” Obi-Wan agreed and kicked off his slippers so he could crawl into bed with Anakin. His Padawan made space for him, but the moment Obi-Wan was also under the covers, Anakin pressed himself against him, somehow already having untangled his limbs from his blankets so he could stick his cold feet and hands beneath Obi-Wan’s war robes. Obi-Wan hissed at the cold contact and shot Anakin a look.

“You are a menace,” he told the boy seriously, but Anakin only giggled, seeing through his ruse.

“Nuhu, I’m cold,” he replied and promptly moved his hands just below Obi-Wan’s ribs where Anakin knew he was ticklish.

Obi-Wan jumped up, all signs of exhaustion were forgotten. Oh, it was on.

“You will regret this!” He declared dramatically and began tickling Anakin, who let out high-pitched shrieks in between his joyful laughs.

“Mercy! Obi-Wan I can’t-” Anakin begged as the rest of his sentence was swallowed by his giggles.

Obi-Wan stopped for a moment and thoughtfully crossed his arms, giving Anakin a minute to recuperate. “Oh? On what grounds!”

“Uuh,” Anakin pouted. “It’s late?” He suggested “And we should sleep. And I won’t make you cold again.”

“That’s a lie,” Obi-Wan pointed out, already knowing that Anakin would stick his freezing hands beneath his shirt.

Anakin shrugged easily and grinned at Obi-Wan. “Yeah.”

Well, at least his Padawan was honest enough to admit to it.

“Alright, let’s sleep then,” Obi-Wan said and laid down again next to Anakin. He pulled the many blankets over them both and wiggled underneath them until he was comfortable. The bed really was a little small for them both, but there was no helping it. Perhaps they should just sleep in Obi-Wan’s the next time.

“Night, Obi-Wan,” Anakin muttered and yawned.

“Good night, Anakin.”

He tugged Anakin’s head under his chin and sooner than he could count, they were asleep.

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

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Case 00646: General Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kix was roughly forty forms deep in his ever-growing stack of paperwork when a knock sounded at the entrance to the medbay.

Normally, he made a point of not turning his attention to newcomers until he had finished what he was working on - a medic had to be focused, after all - but the polite gesture captured Kix's attention.

Approximately a half-second after he had glanced at the door, Kix snapped into a salute. "General."

"At ease, Kix, please," General Kenobi told him. "I'm afraid I would rather not return a salute at the moment."

If this were General Skywalker, Kix would have to use his 'medic' voice to get him to come inside and accept treatment, but General Kenobi was known for being a little more level-headed. "Please come in, General, and tell me what happened."

Kenobi had just taken a step inside the medbay and opened his mouth when his wrist comlink went off. He grimaced. "My apologies, Kix. Kenobi here."

"General," Commander Cody said from the other end of the comlink, his professionalism making him instantly recognizable. "The Jedi Council has requested that you join their meeting as soon as possible to make your report."

"Very well," Kenobi sighed, clearly preparing to turn back toward the bridge. "Please tell them I will join the meeting as soon as I can return to the-"

Kix switched from 'soldier' to 'medic' in a moment. He stepped forward to stand beside Kenobi, speaking over the general. "Commander, this is Kix. General Kenobi is currently in the medbay having his injuries treated. Please report to the Council that he will make his report after his health has been deemed satisfactory."

Kenobi gaped, but Cody's response held an edge of amusement. "Take your time, Kix. The Council will understand that health takes precedence over timely reports. Cody out."

General Kenobi stared, obviously shocked by the turn the situation had taken. "I really must report to the Council, Kix. I can return here when I've finished-"

"Patience is a Jedi virtue, is it not?" Kix asked, not waiting for an answer. "They'll be fine. Now, tell me what happened."

Kenobi paused to consider the orders he had been given by a subordinate. Finally, he laughed. "Anakin did warn me that you take your duties seriously!" The laughter faded, but the general's eyes still sparkled with amusement. "Very well, I believe I may have been injured during a fight with Ventress."

"Where is the injury, sir?"

"Just here, along the back of my neck and across my upper shoulders," the general told him, gesturing stiffly to the area he had mentioned even while his face paled with the pain the motion had surely caused.

"I need to examine the wound," Kix said, pressing General Kenobi's arms back to his sides. "I'll remove your armor, General. Just try not to move."

In a few practiced motions, Kix had unhooked the small pieces of shoulder and bicep armor the general wore. Those, along with shin armor and vambraces with attached gloves, were the only form of armor General Kenobi had chosen to wear.

Kix took a little more care as he helped the general remove his Jedi robes and tunic. Kenobi had indeed been injured in his fight with Ventress. Kix had to peel the singed fabric away from the blisters already forming on the general's skin.

It was a long and gruesome process. The fabric of General Kenobi's robe had melted as it came into contact with Ventress's lightsaber and parts of the weave had fused with the Jedi's skin. Kix was as gentle as he could be and Kenobi sat perfectly still, but he knew there would be a significant amount of pain in the process.

General Kenobi continued to bear the discomfort in silence, but Kix could not fight a grimace of his own as he finished removing the last of the robe from the burn. "If only you had been wearing a chestplate and backplate," he commented as he worked. "Plastoid won't survive a direct hit from a lightsaber, but it can block proximity burns like this one."

Kenobi laughed dryly as Kix removed the last sections of his tunic. "You sound like Cody."

"The commander is a wise man," Kix said blandly, focusing on removing a final few melted threads from the edges of the burn wound.

"Meaning that I am not?" Kenobi asked with a raise of one eyebrow.

Horrified, Kix paused in his motions and stared at the general. "No, sir! That wasn't what I meant to say."

"I certainly don't feel very wise at the moment," Kenobi admitted, reaching as if to prod the burn on the back of his neck.

Kix stopped the motion before the general's fingers could make contact. "I wouldn't do that, sir. Ventress must have gotten close, by the look of that burn. I'll have to make a bacta spray for it first, but then I'll apply some cooling gel to help with the pain."

Though Kix half-expected the general to trivialize his pain as General Skywalker would have done, Kenobi only nodded. "I appreciate your efforts, Kix."

Kix set to work creating the bacta spray. It would have to be diluted a bit more than he would have preferred. It would still be effective enough to decrease the required healing time, but it could have been stronger. The Resolute was running a bit low on bacta, an uncomfortable situation this early in a series of missions. Considering the ship now held troopers from the 501st and the 212th, Kix thought it wise to conserve bacta where he could.

As he returned to where General Kenobi sat patiently, the general asked, "Do you speak Mando'a as some of your brothers do?"

"I do, sir," Kix answered. "But if you're wondering who taught the General and the Commander how to curse in Mando'a, talk to Fives. And Captain Rex," he added after some consideration.

"Noted," Kenobi said, attempting to hide a grin in his beard. "As it happens, I need assistance with a translation."

"A translation, sir?"

"Yes, I wish to know the Basic translation for a word: jareor." Kix paused in administering the bacta spray and the general twisted to peer at him sharply. "The expression can be translated, I trust?"

"Yes, sir," Kix said, hiding a grimace behind Kenobi's back. "May I ask who said it and if it was said about you?"

"I believe it would be best to withhold that information until I receive a translation," General Kenobi said carefully. "However, I can assure you that there will be no repercussions for the one who said it."

"All right. Jareor means to take an unnecessary risk, a foolish one." He finished with the spray and placed the bottle back in his medical cabinet before retrieving the cooling gel. "Now, who did I just get court-martialed?"

General Kenobi grinned. "No one, Kix. Cody commented that my strategy of drawing Ventress away while my men evacuated to the Resolute was jareor."

"Placing the cooling gel on now, sir. Brace yourself," Kix warned. After a moment, he asked, "Do you feel you made the right move?"

"There were no casualties of the evacuation and we took out an entire battalion of super battle droids, so I must say yes," Kenobi said, wincing slightly as Kix smoothed the gel on and around the worst of the burn. "Cody just likes to throw his own authority around every once in a while."

"Ah," Kix said, fighting a grin of his own. "So he's ori'buyce kih'kovid."

"I beg your pardon?"

"All helmet, no head," Kix translated. "With all due respect, of course."

The general found his statement so entertaining that Kix had to pull the gel's applicator away for fear of jabbing the sensitive area. When General Kenobi had finally finished and sat wiping tears from his eyes, he asked, "Would you be willing to teach me that particular expression?"

"Of course, sir."

"Kix, have I mentioned how highly I respect you?"

"Every time we work together, sir," Kix responded dutifully.

It took the general only a few minutes to learn the proper Mando'a pronunciation, well before Kix was ready to discharge him from the medbay. When he was finally leaving, Kenobi half-turned to address Kix over his shoulder, though the move obviously caused him pain.

"Thank you, Kix, for both the treatment and the linguistics lesson," Kenobi said with a grin. "Wonderful language, Mando'a!"

Kix had to agree.