#and i grew up thinking my actions made me deservng of things not my existence

[tennessoui]

It intrigues me so much thinking obi wan probably thought he was going to have a nice normal partner maybe a school teacher or a nurse, and live his days solving crime and then BOOM undercover on mob work and then BOOM Mob Boss is all over you like extreme osha (is that how you spell it idk) violations happening and then BOOM Killing someone because they could take it all away because they blew your cover and then BOOM going to the police ball where his shitty father can see him on the arm of said alleged mob boss WITH built in twins i feel like at some point obi wan is just sitting there thinking all of them and then shrugs cause in the end he got the hot rich dilf and he can do literally whatever he wants (well not everything but I’m sure you understand)

hello hello i finally wrote the scene where anakin/vader and obi-wan meet :D aka "boom mob boss is all over you like extreme OSHA violations happening" because i thought that was funny af

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It’s never a stellar sign when Obi-Wan wakes up to a headache like this. In the academy, it’d been a rare occasion. He’d never been one to join his fellow recruits for late nights out in the sort of clubs that dot the darker corners of Coruscant. He was the son of a police chief, after all, and that gave him certain expectations to follow, none of which left much room for drunken tomfoolery.

But the sort of headache that greets him when he wakes up is the kind of headache he recognizes from the worst sort of hangover, the sort he’s only had a handful of times in his life.

For obvious reasons, the very first thing he does when he finds the energy to squint his eyes partially open is to immediately roll over and away from the light source in the room with probably the most pathetic noise he’s ever uttered in his life.

He can’t even remember drinking that much the night before is the thing. He’d—why would he? He was—last night was—the first night of his undercover mission, he’d never risk it all to get drunk—

“Careful with your head,” a deep voice murmurs from very near to him, and Obi-Wan freezes. He doesn’t know who that is, where he is…how he got here. The material beneath his cheek is leather, so it’s most likely a couch that he’s resting on. “You took quite a beating,” the voice adds, and it sounds amused.

Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut and tries to take stock of his body. He does hurt, that’s true. He hurts pretty much everywhere actually, like his body is one giant bruise.

He took a beating? He was only supposed to be a server at the club—it had been his first night on the fucking floor, how could anyone have even noticed him enough to—

Oh. One of Skywalker’s men. He’d hit on one of the dancers, Shela. She’d been nice to Obi-Wan, had shown him around and called him Benny.  

He’d gotten into a fight with the mobster when he wouldn’t leave well enough alone.

The fight had been taken outside. Six men against Obi-Wan. It hadn’t been much of a fight at all.

But where—

“Luckily, you’ve already been seen by the best and brightest in our fine city,” the voice says, and he must know he’s awake to be talking to him at all, but he still reaches out to touch Obi-Wan’s hair, proprietary. As if he knows he won’t be stopped.

The touch of fingers running along his hairline makes Obi-Wan freeze and then move, turning his face away, out of the man’s reach, and forcing his eyes open to glare at the touchy intruder.

His glare falters when he sees who exactly has found him. Where he must be.

Anakin Skywalker, businessman, restaurant owner, and suspected leader of the Coruscanti mob scene and its most violent family, stares back at him. His eyes are dark, his lips curled up into a smirk that makes Obi-Wan’s stomach tighten and his heartbeat rise. There is something very calculated and very cold about his eyes, and being under the full weight of them restricts his very breath.

“I was wondering if you had those,” Anakin Skywalker—known to all but a few simply as Vader—murmurs. He reaches out and touches Obi-Wan’s cheekbone, rough this time as if daring him to protest or flinch away from the movement.

The spike of tender pain makes Obi-Wan’s breath stutter. He must be pressing into a newly formed bruise. “Had what?”

Skywalker’s smirk grows. “Prey instincts.”

It’s like his heart misses a beat, lurching in his chest as he stares back at the mob boss. After all, he is wounded and weak and on what must be Anakin’s couch, inside what must be his home.

He’d been tapped by his father to infiltrate the Skywalker family’s mob, and he’s been studying up on all the information there is to know about Vader, his business, and his family since. The plan had been to work his way naturally into the confidences of the men of the 501st that frequented the strip club Obi-Wan got a job at. A free drink here and there, a charming smile, a flirty look….

The best way into the mob was to become a mobster’s fuck of the week. Or longer. Everyone knew that. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to think about his father signing off on his deployment, giving his permission for Detective Kenobi-Jinn to bend over and take it for the good of justice and law and order everywhere.

The plan had been to work his way into the affections of the mob, ask innocent questions in the minutes after sex when a mobster’s shields were mostly down, record the answers and report his findings to Detective Secura every other week.

The plan was not to wake up on Anakin Skywalker’s couch with the man caressing his face. The plan was not to ever even meet Skywalker. He was supposed to spread his legs for an underlying. A commander at most.

Someone like—what was the man’s name? One of the men last night—he’d been kind. He’d been someone Obi-Wan had hoped would come back, because—

“Daddy?” A voice asks from the doorway, and Obi-Wan lifts his head slightly at the sound. He’d known Skywalker had children, but he hadn’t known they’d be here—meeting Vader’s children was not in the plan at all.

Skywalker’s eyes darken, and he doesn’t take them away from his face, not even when he reaches out a hand to the doorway. “Come here, Leia baby.”

There’s the pattering of little feet and then suddenly a pair of big brown eyes is blinking at Obi-Wan from far too close to be socially acceptable. He twitches back on instinct, and a large hand wraps around the girl’s throat to tug her away gently. “We shouldn’t scare him, baby,” Skywalker murmurs in his deep, soft voice. “He’s skittish.”

Obi-Wan barely holds back an offended scoff. He’s not skittish, he’s aware enough to know that he’s at a significant disadvantage here.

At least it’s highly unlikely that he’ll be murdered in front of Skywalker’s kid.

“Daddy, Luke and I put all those band-aids on him and patched him up so good,” Leia says, allowing her father to drag her backwards and settle her onto the edge of the coffeetable. “You can’t make him bleed again.”

Alright, maybe the presence of his kid isn’t enough to usually keep him from murder. He sits up carefully, swinging his legs down onto the ground even though the motion makes him want to vomit. 

He’s barely vertical when Leia pushes herself under his arm to put her head in his lap, arranging his hand so that it’s resting on her head.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen and he looks at Skywalker.

The man just smirks as he leans back himself to look his full.

“You gave Luke head scratches all night,” Leia accuses when he doesn’t move.

“I—what?” Luke? Who is Luke?

“Rexy brought you to Daddy and he wasn’t here so he put you on the couch and Luke and I patched you up and you gave Luke so many head scratches even though he fell asleep which isn’t fair because we used my band-aids and you were sitting on my end of the couch!”

Obi-Wan blinks.

Obi-Wan’s hand starts moving, petting the girl’s head. 

Rex. That was the name of the man from the bar last night, the one who had been kind. Who had apparently looked after him, gotten him somewhere…reasonably safe. 

Perhaps the plan isn’t ruined after all.

“Oh,” he says very carefully. “Rex helped me? That’s very nice of him. I should like to…thank him personally then.”

Leia shoots up away from his side with an insistent scowl, one Obi-Wan is unprepared to deal with or understand. He looks away from her to frown at Skywalker, but Skywalker is wearing the same expression—though much darker.

“Weren’t you listening?” Leia demands. “Me and Luke helped you! Rex just gave you to Daddy!”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan blinks. He doesn’t…know what he’s supposed to be doing. Or saying. But he can try. “Well, thank you very much for your help, Leia. You and your brother made me feel much better.”

Leia beams and gives him a pat on the arm as if he’s a dog who has gotten a trick right. “Daddy,” she says and looks to Skywalker. “We are keeping him. Luke and I talked about it and that’s what we decided. We want Ben.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen. This is definitely not part of the plan.

But at least he’d been with it enough to give them his undercover name, despite being out of it enough to end up on Anakin Skywalker’s couch surrounded by his children, and then pet at them.

“I thought you were talking to Ahsoka about wanting a puppy,” Skywalker says. His tone is unreadable, but his eyes are softer as they look at his daughter.

Ahsoka. Ahsoka Tano. Vader’s second.

“Ben is better than a puppy,” Leia declares, and Obi-Wan feels sort of—touched. Despite himself. Despite the myriad of reasons he should be on his highest guard, even against this child.

“Ben is not even in the same realm as a puppy,” now Vader sounds amused. “If anything, you are requesting to adopt a little mouse.”

“Well…maybe Ben can be mine, and Luke can get the puppy,” Leia suggests.

Obi-Wan wonders if Ben is going to get a choice in this conversation, and then he wonders what he’d choose.

The plan does not mention him getting within touching distance of Anakin Skywalker.

As if he knows what he’s thinking, Skywalker turns dark eyes to him. “What if,” he says, in that soft tone he’d been using when he told Obi-Wan to mind his head, “I keep Ben, and you and Luke can get the puppy?”

That’s it then. The plan—and Ben—and Obi-Wan are all fucked.

“Okay,” Leia says.

Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything. His chest feels tight, and he's confused. He's confused because he's not sure he did anything to warrant being kept. He hasn't earned his keep yet. All he's done is bleed all over Vader's sofa. This is a deviation from the plan. He was supposed to be flirty and seductive and work to get the attention of one the mobsters until he ended up on his back for the good of the city. He's not supposed to--

“Well?” Vader asks, cocking his head slightly. 

“Okay,” Ben whispers, and Vader smiles.