20 Days of Obikin Challenge, Day 3: Hurt/Comfort
As expected, the work week kinda kicked my butt when it came to writing, but I’ll catch up!
Rating: T
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Anakin is…lost. Well, no, he’s technically not lost, he’s in a little nook on the Vigilance, a charging station for cleaning droids that’s currently not being used. But it gets him out of easy sight in the corridors, and he doubts anyone will look for him here. As far as he knows Ahsoka is in her own quarters, and Obi-Wan is on the bridge.
(Does the man ever sleep? He must do so at some point, right? Come to think of it, Anakin hasn’t actually seen him so much as nap since the clone wars started.)
He’s shoved himself back into the niche in the wall, kneeling with his hands folded in his lap and his back held rigidly straight. The posture is difficult to hold, and his muscles have started to quiver with the strain. It’s submissive, it’s controlled, and he can’t seem to bring himself to break it. How long has he been out here? Hours? Something like that. It’s a long trip back to Coruscant, and he’s planning to spend it all just like this. The ache in his knees and his back are just enough to make it impossible for him to think.
There’s no way he’s going to confront what just happened. He’d never thought he could fall back into that headspace so quickly, hadn’t felt this helpless since he’d become a Jedi. It’s ridiculous, and weak, and he shoves his shoulders back to throw off the thoughts.
Footsteps in the corridor draw his attention, and he holds his breath, waiting for the person to walk right by him. Instead they stop, and Obi-Wan seats himself on the floor, facing him.
Anakin squints at him, hands curling into fists on his thighs. He knows he’d had it easier than his former Master, kept like a prized pet at the queen’s side rather than sent to hard labor or dangled over the Zygerrian city in a cage—
The image of his Padawan in those bars with that…that thing standing over her with an electrostaff in its hand sends a wave of bloody rage through him, and he looks away before Obi-Wan can see it in his eyes. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence. Anakin tucks his head so he’s somewhat shielded behind his hair, and pretends he has no idea the other man is there.
“Will you come out here, please?”
It’s a request, not an order. Anakin wavers for a second. He wants to, wants to launch himself at Obi-Wan and reassure himself that they’re both free. More than that, though, he needs to refuse, just to prove he can. He shakes his head, scoots backwards.
Obi-Wan doesn’t push, just crosses his legs and settles in. Anakin peers at him through his fringe. “You’re going to get stepped on out there.”
“Mmhmm.” He shrugs, apparently unconcerned, and doesn’t move. “I thought you needed company. And I don’t think I’d fit in there with you.”
“Maybe I don’t want company,” Anakin spits at him, anger flaring at the assumption—
“I can leave if you want, then.”
Does anything ever ruffle him? Anakin’s suddenly determined to find out. He tries to lunge out at him—and instead folds over as his muscles cramp up after too long locked in one position. He lands in Obi-Wan’s lap, gentle hands on his shoulders. The other man doesn’t laugh at him, but he can feel his amusement through their bond, and it does nothing to help his sense of humor.
“I’ll take that to mean you want me to stay?”
Anakin lifts one hand in a rude gesture, but he doesn’t pull away. This feels…nice. One of Obi-Wan’s hands finds his hair, petting lightly. It’s more affection than his Master usually gives him, and he can’t help but think it might be purely out of pity. Yet the creeping feeling that his body no longer belongs to him is fading with every moment, and on impulse he reaches up to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and pull himself closer.
Now both hands are in his hair, stroking and pulling lightly. His face is shoved into Obi-Wan’s robes, surrounded by the smell of tea and his Master’s sweat and a hint of burned hair (did he get himself electrocuted again? Most likely.). Obi-Wan leans forward, and there’s just a hint of tremor in his voice. “I’m so glad to have you back safe, dear one.”
The phrasing should seem possessive, but there’s nothing but love in Obi-Wan’s force presence, and Anakin revels in it. He knows he needs far too much, shouldn’t crave touch so much that physical contact is practically melting him with contentment, but right now that doesn’t matter. All that matters is Obi-Wan, and Anakin, and both of them together.
konekorambles 