#otherwise known as: i consider it both my duty and my joy to write obi-wan sulking

[roselightfairy]

Many Lines Monday

Thank you, @tathrin, for tagging me to share a WIP snippet! I am always happy for an excuse. (And this is a bit from a fic I started telling you about!)

He tamped down his emotion at that thought, keeping his face neutral as Obi-Wan finished his kata, landing lightly on the balls of his feet, and then bowed. “Master.” The tight tone of voice revealed that Qui-Gon was not yet forgiven. “Obi-Wan.” He inclined his head just slightly to acknowledge that he had received the message. “Well done.” “Thank you.” Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsaber and returned it to his belt. “I thought if we expect to see a Sith warrior yet again, I’d better be prepared.” That shadow shivered again down Qui-Gon’s spine. “A wise thought.” Obi-Wan accepted this with a dip of the head that might have been read as respectful and deferent to anyone who did not know Obi-Wan’s body language so well. “Where is the boy?” “With the Naboo.” Qui-Gon reached out, feeling for the new presence in the Force that already commanded so much of his attention. Anakin felt like a sun himself, so radiant with energy and potential that it nearly hurt to focus on him for too long. One of the guards was showing him the inner workings of their astromech droids, which had Anakin absorbed for now. That was a new grief – the thought of Anakin’s potential being squandered. That he might soon be without a teacher, without even an ally to fight for him, when he showed such promise and possibility. When he might be the one who would change their understanding of the galaxy for good. “Hmm.” Qui-Gon sighed. The skepticism in Obi-Wan’s voice and Force presence alike probed at him like their own sunrays, relentless and scorching. “We’re not having this discussion, Obi-Wan.” “Trust me, I’m well aware.”

I feel like most of my writer friends on here have already been tagged in this or mostly don't tend to do tag games, so if you see this and want to do it, please feel free to say I tagged you!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Partners in Grime (baon)

Summary:   Stretch has survived a lot over the years. Surviving Edge's vacation week should be a piece of cake.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Mentions of Depression

part of the ‘by any other name’

Read on AO3

-or-

Read More Here

~~*~~

Stretch wasn’t used to babysitting and that was a fact. Oh, he played games with the neighborhood kiddos, showed them experiments and occasionally planned events but he was pretty sure none of their parents had fooled themselves into thinking that anything he did could be called supervision.

He hoped so, anyway, or there was going to be some inevitable disappointment somewhere along the line.

Anyway, so yeah, babysitting. Not so much. He was used to having the house to himself for most of the day where he could sleep in or watch television or go to the lab—

(don’t think about that)

—or post on twitter while hanging out with the chickens. His days weren’t planned so much as they were loosely connected reoccurring events, and Stretch was fine with that.

Having Edge here every day was ruining his carefully disarrayed schedule and he loved Edge, he loved him so much, and he’d love him even more if he’d sit down for five fucking minutes.

Stress, yeah, sure, Stretch was going to gather up his own stress and shove the whole messy wad of it up Ass-gore’s namesake. But Red had warned him if his bro didn’t chill the fuck out, Asgore was considering sending him on a longer vacation and Stretch was pretty sure that was a sanity massacre waiting to happen.

In the interest of saving them all, Stretch would do his duty to Monsterkind and help.

So far, that had consisted of letting Edge do whatever the fuck he wanted around the house. Just because Stretch didn’t see the purpose of attacking the grout with an old toothbrush didn’t mean it wasn’t an important task, (or so he guessed because he’d spent a lifetime not cleaning grout and he hadn’t dusted yet.)

And just because their neighbor’s smiles when he brought them yet another plate of cookies or muffins were getting a little tight didn’t mean there weren’t other people who would appreciate a treat and so what if Stretch was shortcutting two streets away to find them?

Problem was, cleaning and baking looked like they were losing their luster.

He’d give a half-hearted thought to taking Edge into town to go shopping or maybe a movie but subjecting innocent Humans to him didn’t seem like the best way to build good relations between Humans and Monsterkind.

That left sex as Stretch’s main form of entertainment, hey, may as well enjoy the forced confinement, right?

But after a few days even his libido was starting to make flimsy excuses to call it a night, and while Stretch was usually ready for any reason to desecrate the couch again, if they ever wanted anyone else to sit on it again, they were going to need to let it air out for a couple days. At least washing the sheets gave Edge something to do.

That afternoon he was sitting on the poor, abused sofa, still aching pleasantly in a few key areas from earlier when he realized Edge hadn’t followed him back downstairs. The shower had been turned off for a suspiciously long time and he’d believe Red and Sans were swapping condiment preferences along with spit before he’d believe Edge was laying back down for a nap.

It set off more than a few alarm bells. Time to investigate. For the safety of the City and everyone in it.

Who knew that Edge taking a vacation would give him Superman tendencies?

Shortcutting could be silent if he put enough effort into it. Last time he’d bothered was when he was grabbing all the kids during the ‘human invasion’, if that’s what they called a handful of dipshits, but he did it now. Otherwise Edge would hear him on the stairs.

When the void cleared, Stretch could see Edge was sitting on the bed facing away from the door, almost hunched over, a far cry from his usual perfect posture. Checking his phone from the looks of it, naughty naughty.

“what are you dooooooing?” Stretch asked, pleasantly.

Edge jumped and nearly dropped his phone, fumbling to catch it before it fell on the floor. The look on his face was like a damned neon sign, flashing his guilt for all to see.

“Nothing,” he said brusquely.

Oh, yeah, smooth, that’d fool a lie detector, for sure.

“uh huh,” Stretch leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “nothing. so, my guess is either you’ve taken up watching porn on the sly or you were checking in on your work email. and we both know you’d show me the porn, i always like a good laugh.”

His silence spoke volumes. Edge didn’t like to lie and since he couldn’t Obi-Wan his way out with any ‘some other point of view’ bullshit, he was going with keeping his mouth shut.

Stretch shook his head sadly. His baby was letting him down on the sneak factor; he should’ve checked while he was still in the bathroom. “you know, i promised that i’d keep an eye on you this week. you wanna be responsible for making me break a promise?”

“I didn’t promise,” Edge muttered but he sighed and let Stretch take his hand, followed him back downstairs like the world’s saddest, boniest puppy, “This is ridiculous.”

“uh huh.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“you’re definitely fine, babe, always loved those jeans.”

“I’ve taken a couple of days, I’ve relaxed—“

“uh…yeah…about that. you might need a refresher on the whole ‘relaxing’ thing. i could google it for you.”

“And I’m ready to be back at work.”

“you and me both.”

“What was that?” Edge asked distractedly.

“sit.” And when he didn’t, Stretch pushed on his shoulders until Edge gave in and finally sat down heavily on the sofa. Sternly, Stretch told him, “stay there.”

When it looked like Edge was probably going to obey even if it was with all the grudging he could muster, Stretch went to the kitchen. Time to bring out the secret weapons.

He came back out with a heavily laden tray, covered in plates that held the sort of things that required toothpicks and stupid green garnishy things, and announced, “i have snacks. i have drinks. we are watching netflix.”

“Where did you get this?” Edge eyed everything suspiciously, like Stretch had taken up poisoning as a part-time job. “I know you didn’t make it.”

Well, if he had, then he would probably be well on his way to his first paycheck as an amateur poisoner. “i did not, my brother did, so it’s probably safe. you know you love his spinach puffs. now, eat and watch tv.”

“Must we?” Edge groaned. He flopped back against the cushions and honestly, this was fascinating from a scientific point of view. Edge on the verge of a tantrum was a state of being that Stretch hadn’t even known existed, much less that he’d be the one to discover it. He should write a paper. “I’ve seen enough television to last the rest of the year.”

“i hope not, i’m looking forward to the new season of ‘masterchef’. anyway, i think you’ll like this one.”

He picked up the controller and started the episode. Bright music began along with a man explaining, “It’s a never-ending battle to fight the clutter—"

Edge sat up and grabbed a spinach puff, stuffing it into his mouth and chewing with an impressive amount of grudgingness before slumping back to glare at the tv.

If Stretch survived this he was asking for a raise.

An hour later and Stretch was ready to mark this one as a win. Edge was riveted in a way even Gordon Ramsey rarely managed. Probably a good thing Stretch had already married him, or he might be on a plane with flowers in hand, ready to spark a little joy.

Stretch wasn’t quite as enamored; he was okay with the show, sure, the host was a sweetheart. It was just a hell of a lot more fun watching Edge. The way he quivered as the families tried to excuse their messiness, like he was resisting the urge to reach through the screen and shake them. His visible satisfaction when they showed they were on the right path and the episode ended with triumph and order.

It was fucking adorable.

He didn’t get to watch Edge like this very often. Usually if they were watching television, Stretch liked to live up to his namesake and stretch out, laying half on Edge and half off the sofa, soaking up the warmth from his blanket and his baby both.

It was moments like these that he was jarringly reminded that Edge really was younger than him, the same age as his little brother. With his crimson eye lights wide and focused on the screen, enchantingly absorbed, he looked his age in a way he rarely did.

He’d gone through so much in his life; some of it was visible on his bones, the crack in his socket was the most obvious but there were others, scars that had healed roughly without a gentle hand to press soothing magic into them. The other scars were buried a hell of a lot deeper and whether they were why he needed a break from work or they were the reason he drove himself so hard to begin with was anyone’s guess.

Stretch had his own theories.

But that combined with his unrelenting attitude made Edge seem older than he was. Didn’t help that it was hard to gauge ages with skeletons. Plenty of Monsters guessed that Stretch was the younger one.

He liked to think it was because he was young at heart, fuck you very much.

And then after everything he’d gone through, Edge went ahead and hitched his life to Stretch’s broke-ass wagon. Looking at Edge and thinking about the years he had yet to come sometimes made that bitter little voice that lived in the back of Stretch’s thoughts come to life, syrupy-thick, persuasive, and as foul as swamp water, asking him what the fuck he thought he was doing here, telling him he didn’t deserve this. Edge had earned better than having to spend his life dealing with Stretch’s brand of generic bullshittery.

Today more than usual it was easy to stuff that voice back. What kind of asshole would it make Stretch to try to make his choices for him? Stretch had a little too much experience with that and once you allowed it to start happening, it was fucking difficult to flick the switch back. Besides, if his taste in partners was questionable, at least his baby had a good soul.

He was selfish, knew it, but still. He wanted to be the one to spark joy in Edge

When the episode ended, Stretch didn’t even ask. He reached out automatically to push the button that skipped the intro on the next one. The spinach puffs were a distant memory but there were still the tapenade toast points to contend with.

A glance back at Edge made Stretch duck his head to hide a smile. Edge looked like his inner neat freak was getting a deep tissue massage. Now that, friends and neighbors, was relaxed.

“can i ask something?” Stretch said, idly, “how is it a clean bee like you can stand to be with me?”

Edge managed to tear his gaze away from the television long enough to look at him with genuine surprise and a little fond scorn, probably for the pun. It tore away the last bit of the illusion of youth and that left nothing but his own husband, who told him archly, “Marie says it herself. I love a mess.”

Okay, damn, affection and insult in one, and by the Angel, Stretch loved him so, so much. “i asked for that.”

“You did,” Edge agreed. But he caught hold of Stretch and pulled him in anyway, tucking him in comfortably against his side. He was soothingly warm and Stretch snuggled in happily, sighing as Edge pressed a kiss against his skull before whispering to him, “You bring me joy.”

Well, hey, mission accomplished. Now Stretch only had to keep it up for a few decades, no biggie.

But first, he needed to survive the week.

-finis-

Notes:

I can't help but feel that Edge would love 'Tidying Up With Marie Kondo'. His platonic soul mate. ^_^