#but the realization that its simply difficult for qui gon to reach obi wan

[agentromanoffsir]

absolutely cannot stop thinking about this bit in rogue planet after qui gon ended up appearing to obi wan in the last ep

[nevertheless-moving]

Pop Star Wars AU: Waking

Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.

Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )

Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.

Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):

After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier. 

The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future. 

The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.

The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.

He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.

Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.

He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.

The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up. 

Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations. 

Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.

Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.

Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.

Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was. 

He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.

The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.

The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time. 

He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.

Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place. 

“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.” 

Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer. 

Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU. 

For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind. 

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”

And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.

Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door. 

Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on. 

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”

Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense. 

“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.” 

This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.

To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.

After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.

“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.

“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”

“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”

Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions. 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.

“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”

“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.” 

It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.

“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.

Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).

“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”

He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.

Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”

“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.

Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere. 

They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.

“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”

“You know, I think I am”

[jennana501]

Attachment and the Jedi Way

SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN AND STAR WARS REBELS

I always know a story is quality when what I want to say about it to my mother and sisters is too difficult to text, and I have to drive over and talk with them in person. Such was the case when I watched the Mandalorian Chapter 13. There were so many juicy details, plot developments, and general excitement about the long awaited appearance of one of our favorite Star Wars characters that I couldn’t stand being restricted by phone when I wanted to gush a million things. We were all so stunned with the emotion of her appearance. Truly a moment I will remember for the rest of my life. 

But after all the sweet outer frosting on the Chapter 13 cake had been licked clean, I dove into the center of this delectable episode and began to savor in its indulgent but substantial core. I have many thoughts about Thrawn, where Rex can be (is he dead or alive?) and where the season is going to go from there. What has interested me the most is Ahsoka’s reaction to our newly named green baby friend, Grogu. 

First I must say how much I love Rosario Dawson’s performance. I feel she knows who Ahsoka is and what she has gone through. I am reminded of little ‘Soka in her very first appearance in the Clone Wars animated movie when she takes care of the way less loveable baby Hutt. Seeing that she is  charmed by Grogu and that she clearly thinks he is cute makes me feel all sorts of warm fuzzies. Their very mythical and silent conversation in the moonlight shows how in tune with the force Ahsoka has become and that Grogu himself is much more than meets the eye. 

And yet when it comes to it, Ahsoka says she cannot train Grogu. The reason: his attachment to Din. I was surprised at first. Ahsoka does not see herself as a Jedi, at least as far as her association with the order that raised and trained her. I didn’t think I’d hear about attachment from someone who has forgone the Jedi way, especially since Ahsoka appears to have indulged in an attachment or two.

I immediately realized she was on to something. I recall Grogu’s moments of using the force: saving Din from the mudhorn; using the Force to save everyone from a giant fireball; Force healing Greef Karga; and Force choking Cara Dune. The latter example stands out to me as being the most violent use of the Force we see from little Grogu. He perceives that Din is in danger and acts against what we now know is his training to hurt someone in a manner that is often consistent with the dark side. 

Sure he is innocent and adorable. But he is also dangerous. And Ahsoka is right. It’s his attachment to Din that turns him from benevolent force using baby, to emotionally fueled deadly force bomb.

But I’ve seen Star Wars Rebels. I know that a Jedi can have relationships with other people and not turn to the dark side. You can love and still listen to the will of the Force. The Jedi were wrong. So I’m here to look into what attachment is, how you can love and not have attachment, and how Grogu might still become a Jedi, or at least the new wave sort of Jedi. 

First we must look at the poster child for attachment issues: Anakin Skywalker. The Clone Wars TV show could be renamed- Star Wars: Attachment and How it Disrupts Nearly Every Mission the Republic Assigns Anakin. He prioritizes Padme, Ahsoka, R2, and even Obi-wan over everything else. He is constantly  defying the orders of his commanders and putting the mission in danger. 

This all comes down to what happened to Anakin’s mother. 

When Anakin is taken from Tatooine, he has to leave his mother behind, with whom he shares a strong bond and attachment. When he is brought before the council and they say “he is too old”, what it really means is “he has already attached himself to something other than the Force.” Why else would being “too old” matter? The Jedi prefer blank slates for a good reason. Very small children have not developed strong attachments.

Anakin does turn into Darth Vader, after all. 

It would appear the Jedi are very right to say that Anakin should not be trained. He is ripped away from his mother; the man who believes in him is killed; and he is forced to be trained by someone who treated him with bitter indifference. After losing his mother he has no help, no advice, no direction other than to stifle his negative emotions. 

So instead of processing his grief and finding peace, he latches onto Padme. This attachment he will never abandon. He trains harder and becomes more powerful to always be able to keep Padme alive. The guilt Anakin feels for not being able to save his mother gives fire and passion to his obsession with Padme. And this obsession slowly erodes their relationship. 

Anakin says things like “There’s nothing more important than the way I feel about you.” (Hostage Crisis) During the Mortis Arc when he sees a vision of his mother, they have this conversation: 

“The only love I feel in my heart is haunted by what would happen should I let go.” 

“Then it is not love. It is a prison.” 

“But I have a wife…she’s everything to me.” 

“She’s not your destiny.” 

“But I love her.” 

We see the very ugly side of Anakin’s obsession and jealousy in the arcs that involve Clovis. Anakin's insecurities are valid, but they simply drive home the point that his attachment to Padme will eventually unravel him and lead to violence. 

Anakin and Obi-wan have a very interesting conversation during the episode “The Rise of Clovis” that reveals that Obi-wan is worried for Anakin and senses Anakin’s anger pitted towards the man he perceives as his rival. 

Obi-wan: Master Yoda is feels that your judgements concerning Rush Clovis are clouded. 

Anakin: I believe he can’t be trusted.

Obi-wan: Yes, but there is more isn’t there? I sense a deep anger in your by my simply saying his name. 

Anakin: He almost got Senator Amidala killed and I would have been responsible. 

Obi-wan: The Senator has risked her life many times. She’s quite capable of taking care of herself. 

Anakin: They had a relationship...once. I simply feel she is vulnerable to her emotions. 

Obi-wan: She is, or you? 

Obi-wan then empathizes with Anakin, telling him that he knows what it’s like to harbor feelings for someone. He tells Anakin to not be ashamed of these feelings, but that he must make the rights choice “for the order”. The conversation ends with Anakin becoming very angry, asserting he knows what his responsibilities are and Obi-wan leaves the room, leaving Anakin to deal with his distress alone. 

 And since Anakin is denied the support he needs, he resorts to controlling, intimidating behavior. He commands Padme to stay away from Clovis, is cruel to him, and chooses to punish Padme emotionally for Anakin's own insecurities. When tensions reach their peak, he attacks Clovis. This fully expresses Anakin's own fear and rage at the idea of losing Padme to another man. 

Anakin’s unchecked and untreated attachment to Padme, as we all know, results in the ultimate ruination of the both of them, the Jedi Order, and the Republic. He will never out anything about her. She is his center. Nothing else matters. 

This is not Anakin’s fault. This is the fault of the Jedi. Their teachings about attachment are unhelpful at best, and this stems from their crippling confusion over the difference between “attachment” and “love”. 

It makes me wonder if they even know what they are talking about at all. Their advice about attachment involves regurgitating confusing platitudes.  

In “The Revenge of the Sith"; Anakin goes to Yoda to seek his counsel. Anakin is told that “attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed that is.” When Anakin asks what he must do to overcome attachment, Yoda tells him simply to “train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose”. 

Thanks Yoda, I’ll get right on that. 

Anakin needs to “let go”, apparently, and if he is holding onto something dangerous, what should he be holding onto instead? No one ever explains. The Jedi simply tell him to “let it go”. 

It’s no wonder that Anakin can’t ever consider letting go of Padme. For all he knows, that means cutting her out of his life and never speaking to her again. Or worse, does that mean letting her die the next time her life is in danger? Does it mean he should replace love with indifference? He has no idea. As he is given no tools, Anakin fixes nothing and plummets to his unavoidable demise.

Divorce papers and deleting Padme’s number isn’t how Anakin is to overcome “attachment”, and it was never going to be. Obi-wan tried this method with Satine, and though he didn’t fall to the dark side, he never recovers from the bitterness and regret he feels.

In “Voyage of Temptation”, Anakin and Obi-wan discuss his and Satine’s relationship. Obi-wan explains his Jedi duties forced him to leave Satine after forming a strong bond and love with her over the year they were together on Mandalore. The Jedi teachings dictate that he let Satine go. So, obedient Padiwan that he was, Obi-wan cuts off his relationship with Satine. The results show that this was not the way. If the goal of the Jedi is to avoid negative emotion, then this technique fails and perhaps cripples Obi-wan forever.

Anakin: “As Master Yoda says: ‘A Jedi must not form attachments.’”

Obi-wan: “Yes, but he usually leaves out the undercurrent of remorse.” 

I’m here to tell you today that Obi-wan perhaps gets screwed over by the Jedi Code more than any other Jedi. Obi-wan does not have an attachment to Satine. Sure he says “Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order” but that’s only because that is what he has been taught. He is taught you only have two options: love someone or be a Jedi. 

Obi-wan loves Satine. He has a relationship with her. Some even think, myself included, that he is physically intimate with her. Qui-gon no doubt encouraged this relationship. He probably carefully nurtured Obi-wan during this time, helping him be able to love without forming an attachment. But Obi-wan is not able to see that he could love Satine and still be a Jedi. Leaving the order means that his Jedi journey would be over. If he had realized love and attachment are separate things, he could have been a Jedi and could have had Satine's love, too . 

Qui-Gon nearly convinces Obi-wan to be different: Obi-wan could have been a Jedi with feelings and love. Satine is a person who values duty above all, just as Obi-wan does. She respects that he answers to the Force. They would have been able to perfectly rule together with that mutual understanding. He could have been her force wielding husband without being attached to Satine and falling to the Dark side. 

True attachment is so dangerous to a Jedi because if they attach to a person, an idea, or a cause then they are not attached to the will of the Force. 

This is the missing detail Anakin and Obi-wan needed. Obi-wan could have been completely attached to the Force, even while loving Satine and even becoming her husband. Anakin needs to know that he could attach his center to the Force, and that this would not interfere with a deep and meaningful relationship with Padme. While centered in the Force, Anakin could be Padme’s husband loving and living with her, but ultimately his duty is to the Force, just as her duty is ultimately to the Republic. 

We know all of this is possible because of two characters from Star Wars: Rebels. Kanan Jarrus and Hera Syndulla share what is essentially a marital bond. They love, live, and lead together. They are physically intimate, but they do not have each other as their centers. We see evidence of this in the episode “Call to Action”, when Hera leaves Kanan in the hands of the Empire. She  knows that if she risks saving Kanan then everyone else will be killed. 

If Hera had an attachment to Kanan like Anakin had to Padme, she would have risked everything to get Kanan back. Since Hera is not one of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, she would have failed and the rebel cell would have been stopped dead in its tracks. 

We also see evidence that Kanan is not attached to Hera. At the very end of their journey, after Kanan and Hera have fully expressed their feelings to each other, Kanan sacrifices himself for Hera and the others by using the Force to hold back an explosion. Though it appears as  Kanan is doing this because of his love for Hera, that is not the true motivation. If Kanan has an attachment to Hera, things would have gone differently. 

It is heavily implied leading up to this event that Kanan knows it is the will of the Force that he is to die. He knows this because the Force is his center and not  Hera. If his center is attached to Hera, I believe two things would have happened. Kanan would have tried and failed to save himself along with Hera and the others.  His actions would have been motivated by selfishness and desperation to extend his time with Hera. If Kanan tries to save himself, the conflagration consumed them all. The only way Kanan can prevent this is to draw upon the dark side of the Force. This would have thrown Kanan out of balance with the Force, and put him in very real danger of falling to the dark side. 

Instead, Kanan allows the will of the Force be done: he dies and his time with Hera comes to an end. Hera knows this about Kanan, and has always accepted the possibility he would choose the Rebel cause over their time together. Kanan knows the same of Hera. This mutual respect is the foundation of their love for each other. A Jedi can have a love and a bond with someone as long as they understand that ultimately, if the Force wills them to do something they must do it, regardless of how that affects their lives together.

So, can Grogu live like Kanan? The issue with Grogu, however, is that he already has attachment. His center is his adopted father, Din. Grogu is currently like Anakin, and if Din hands Grogu over to Ahsoka, they will have very Anakin-like troubles. From whom is Grogu going to learn? Ahsoka is unable to teach Grogu how to let go of deep attachment and center on the Force. Ezra Bridger can. 

In the second part of this post, I will discuss how Ezra Bridger is one of the most important Jedi who has ever lived, because he will be able to Grogu learn to let go, attach to the force, love and live, and yet do what needs to be done. 

[solari-writes-things]

Return

🛑 WARNINGS: Spoilers to The Phantom Menace. 🛑

✨ requested by: @sazafraz​​

✨ Pairing: Gray Jedi!Maul x OC

✨ Summary: Maul returns to Norella after a journey of self-discovery, having kept in contact with her through their Force Dyad.

✨ Solari Says: You’ll recognize this plot, Saz, because it is one we’ve talked over before on Discord. I hope it brings you as much soft as I hope. <3 For those who do not know, Norella is the Empress of a system called Lucent Prime, a fan-made kingdom that @sazafraz​ has thought of and told me all about. Also, Maul had only been stabbed. Not bisected. Know this, before moving forward.

✨ Prompt(s) -

Kunzite - experiencing unconditional love.

gif credit: to the OP.

MORE MAUL | MORE STAR WARS | > MASTERLIST < |

Norella’s eyes bore into the bustling city outside of her quarters window. Her drapes were pulled apart just so that she could thoroughly observe everything that was occurring--for any sort of signs that she could possibly receive. She remained hopeful, passionately hopeful that he would find himself back on her planet once more.

She missed Maul. Her heart ached every time that they would see each other, as clear as she saw the structures that were sprouted out of the ground below--all without the physical presence that she so craved. Her hands crossed behind her back, letting out a heavy sigh as she turned slowly to finally go perform the duties she was set.

Heron, her assistant and father figure since her parents’ passing, had his arms folded behind his back properly and bowed when Norella had moved her attention to him.

“What is on our agenda today, Heron?” she asked quietly, her posture professional but her eyes just hinting at her small bit of sadness.

“Nothing out of the ordinary today, my lady,” he answered honestly, straightening out.

“Good... I do not think I can handle something out of the ordinary,” she responded, her eyes averting downwards.

It was like a switch flipped, the parental side of Heron beginning to peer through the cracks of formality. “Is there something troubling you, Norella? You seem... off balance.”

The charm of Lucent Prime was that Norella and her direct assistants were all force-sensitive. As much as it made the Empress feel more at home, it also made things much more difficult in terms of stowing emotions.

Heron had been privy to Norella’s growing feelings for Maul. She had been responsible for him when he was found, stowed away on a supply ship headed for her planet after his battle with Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was injured, barely hanging on through the sheer anger and vengeance he had stored inside. She had helped him regain himself, and during this time they had discovered the Force had directly connected them.

He began to calm down. He became less angry, less fueled by vengeance, the longer he stayed in her care on Lucent Prime. When he processed that he had been abandoned by his prior Sith master, he had decided to leave Lucent Prime in order to discover what his life was meant for. He wanted to figure out what he wanted for himself, if he wanted to build something after he had realized that no one from his past life was coming back.

It had been months now. After he had made his presence known for almost three months time, he had promptly disappeared.

She could not fault him for wanting to pave his own way, it was something that she knew he desired. A life of hatred, a life of abandonment, was something that would have drove him mad should he linger on it for longer.

She was happy to get any update she could. Little by little, she could see him change. His posture, the way that he spoke, began to change.

“I miss him,” she says simply, knowing Heron would understand.

“I know you do, my lady,” Heron responded, his eyes much softer than they had been before. “I’m sure that he will reach out to you again, in time. For now, we must focus on the task at hand.”

Norella nods her head a bit solemnly, before beginning to walk beside Heron out of her quarters. The door shut behind her, she lets out a soft exhale as they traverse the massive halls. The clicking of her heels echoed in the empty halls, as her mind began to wander during their short trip to the throne room.

When she was about to begin her ascent up the three steps leading to her throne, she pauses. There was a shift in the air, a breach in the Force that she just felt stir in her stomach. However, as sudden as it was, there was a familiar warmth that accompanied it. She places her hand over her heart in response to it, feeling it begin to pick up it’s drumming in her chest.

Maul.

She turns, her eyes much more lively as they searched in the throne room--as if he were going to barge through the door. She hears his ship fly overhead through the walls, lifting up her skirt slightly so that she may begin to move quickly.

She begins her running, her heels clacking on the floor. Her guards tried to step and stop her to due her sudden movements, but Heron raises a hand for them to stop. And they do, pausing in their tracks and watching as their Empress moved as fast as her garb would allow.

She charges through a blast door that opened up, causing the warmth of the sun to leak through and crash against her skin. She winces a little due to the sudden light change, but her eyes quickly adjust to the ship that had made its home on the landing bay.

The doors hissed open, and she could feel her heartbeat rise the lower it got to touching the bay floor. When it gently clattered, she began to approach it slowly.

She could see the beginnings of his dark boots stepping down, making her heart race just a little more. More of him began to reveal itself as he descended down the ramp. He had his dark robes on, his hood up and over his horns and tattooed skin. He paused when his eyes rested on Norella, and she could feel his content coursing through his veins through their dyad.

She picks up her skirt again, speed-walking towards him. As she drew closer, she could see the difference in his tunics that lay against his form. They were black, with intricate designs that only shown when the light hit against it. They were beautiful, and they suit him much more than the simple black that he had worn when she met him.

“Maul,” she greeted, smiling sweetly when she got close enough. She wanted to hug him, pull him close so that she could receive the physical affection she so craved.

“Empress Norella,” he greeted back, bowing in formality when she addressed him.

“I... I wasn’t sure that you would be returning,” she admitted, attempting to swallow the feelings that she could feel boiling between them.

She could feel that he missed her, just as much as she did him. That he was also starved of affection that he so craved, hungry for her presence. She watched him closely, on his body language that gave away her assumption. And if she payed enough attention, she would begin to notice more differences with him.

He gazed into her eyes, and she felt entrapped by the blue that he had. Something about the way it contrasted against his red and black skin drew Norella closer and closer to him, finding it harder to look away. “To be quite honest, I wasn’t sure if I was to return when I had left here, but... I found myself thinking of you. Often. So I reached out to you.”

“I... appreciated that, you know. I enjoyed seeing your progression, your face,” she folded her arms behind her, averting her eyes downward.

She could hear Maul step closer and closer to her, and soon his body was only about a foot from hers. She looked up at him once more, a little surprised to see his soft expression as he studied her. He felt as if it had been years, even though it was only months, and seeing her beauty in front of him was almost surreal.

Like he had been dreaming.

They didn’t need to say anything to each other, in terms of their feelings. Their dyad made it impossible for them to hide the swelling love that they felt boiling in their chests. It was almost overwhelming, as Maul reached up and placed a hand at her cheek.

She leaned into his ginger touch, the aspect of it almost feeling imaginary. Something that she had craved for so long, and finally able to receive it. Nothing that they experienced through their dyad could surmount to the moment that they were in now.

So he leaned in, his blue eyes much more gentle than she had ever seen them. She knew what he was trying to do, and frankly hurried for their lips to meet in the middle. To describe their kiss would be a cliché, but she was half inclined to agree with them; there were butterflies in her stomach, fireworks setting off between the two of them. Whatever it may be, she felt it amplified by the Force--by their dyad.

And when they reluctantly pulled away, he brought her in close so his arms wrapped around her. His palm held the back of her head, so her temple was placed against his chest. She hummed in content, her arms raveling around him as she relished in the attention she had finally been able to receive.

“I take it this means you’re staying...” she said, her voice a low mutter as she almost drowned in the feelings she had.

“I realized on my journey, that I couldn’t see myself anywhere else,” he admitted, his thumb brushing against her white hair.

And she smiled.

__

Star Wars Tag List: -

General Tag List: @sazafraz :|: @tsumethedrifter :|: @angelaiswriting​

if you wish to be a part of any tag list, please comment below or message me!

[supercitycarnival]

I couldn’t resist. If you guys like it, I’ll so as many chaps as movies :-)

********************

Kara rode the elevator up, balancing the items in her hands while she tried to hold her cell phone between her cheek and shoulder.

“This is a stupid idea, isn’t it?” She asked her sister.

Alex chuckled on the other end of the call. “You know her better than anyone. If you think she’ll like it, I’m sure she’ll like it.”

Kara grinned. “You guys have fun without me.”

“Will do, and if she thinks it’s stupid, come find us at the bar.” Alex and the others were going to celebrate the Daxamite defeat.

“Absolutely,” Kara told her. “Talk to you soon.”

Alex ended the call and Kara realized she was stuck with full hands and no way to put her phone away. She awkwardly knelt down and almost spilled the popcorn as she set the bowl down, freeing her hand, putting her phone in her back pocket.

Kara regathered all the items just as the elevator doors opened. Standing, she took a deep breath as her heartbeat quickened. She shook her head against the mounting doubt that told her this was, indeed, a stupid idea.

Squaring her jaw, Kara lifted her chin. She needed to appear confident if she was going to get Cat to agree. Walking across the bullpen, she was grateful it had cleared out. Cat had always been the last one here. Some things never change.

Kara slowly approached the glass entrance of Cat’s office. She came to a stop when she caught sight of the woman. Cat was sitting behind her desk, glasses on, and focused. Kara couldn’t help the quirk of her lips. She hadn’t realized how much she truly missed Cat until she was back.

In the short time since Cat’s return, she had already managed to make Kara feel stronger and more confident. Cat had an effect on her that she didn’t understand. If Kara hadn’t already been able to fly, she was sure that Cat’s unshakable belief in her would give her wings.

Suddenly, her relaxing grip on the objects in her hand made her almost drop them. Kara fumbled, but caught everything. Still, the commotion had gotten Cat’s attention. When Kara looked back up, Cat was watching her curiously.

So much for seeming confident, Kara thought. She crossed the threshold and came into the office with a smile.

Surveying the things Kara was holding, Cat narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to?”

Kara didn’t answer right away. She sat the items down on the glass top coffee table. There was popcorn, a two liter of soda, chocolate​ chip cookies,  a box of Milk Duds, and a box of Sour Patch Kids. Then, she stood tall and revealed the last item.

Cat raised an eyebrow at the DVD box in Kara’s hand: Star Wars, Episode 1.

“You must be joking,” the media mogul said, dryly.

Kara was already moving furniture around, indicating that she wasn’t joking at all. She pulled on one of the sofas, attempting to make it look difficult to maneuver. Once the sofa was facing Cat’s wall of screens, Kara pulled the coffee table in front of it.

With a satisfied breath, she glanced back to Cat. The woman was looking back with furrowed brows and parted lips, like she couldn’t believe Kara had dained to think it was okay to mess with the layout of her office.

“Come on,” Kara chuckled. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun?” Cat’s scrunched eyebrows shot up. “We were just under threat of an alien invasion,” she pointed out. “I realize that you might still be new to this profession, but this is a big story, Kiera.”

“Okay,” Kara interrupted, becoming serious, “can we please not go back to ‘Kiera’?” She saw the tiniest glint of surprise cross Cat’s face at the request. “I don’t want to take two steps forward with you, just to take one step back.”

Clearing her throat, Cat slowly slipped her glasses off. “Very well.” She gave Kara one of her gorgeous half smiles. “Kara.” Kara’s moment of triumph was short lived as Cat waved her hand dismissively at Kara’s movie set up. “But this is not happening.”

She was about to put her glasses back on when Kara’s voice stopped her. “Come on, Ms. Grant.” Their eyes met again. A pause lingered, and Kara quietly said, “We haven’t spent any time together since you got back.”

Kara remembered what Cat had said in the alley. The point was human connection. As formidable as Cat Grant was, she still needed people, and Kara was determined to be there for her.

After a moment passed, Cat finally gave an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, fine. Since you went to all this trouble.” She rose from her desk to Kara's​ delight, and came around to sit on the sofa.

Biting her lip to contain her excitement, Kara rushed around the desk to pop the movie in. She was more than familiar with Cat’s media setup and had the movie menu up on the screens in only a few clicks of the mouse. She snatched the remote and walked back around.

Cat was poised at the edge of her seat, legs crossed, and sitting up much too tall. Kara giggled, “Relax, Ms. Grant.” Cat glanced around, seeming uncomfortable. Eventually, she settled back into the sofa.

Coming back around​ the desk, Kara made her way to the small bar in the office. She took two of the tumblers, filled them with ice, and came back to the sofa. Kara took the bottle of soda and turned the cap, releasing a hissing sound.

“Oh, no,” Cat said, wagging a finger at Kara. “You are not putting a carbonated beverage in my glasses.”

Kara ignored the comment and poured, much to Cat’s chagrin. Her mouth dropped open and Kara grinned. Then Cat stood. Kara was sure she was about to leave, but she watched as Cat retrieved a decanter and came back. She sat, adding a splash of bourbon to her soda, and smiled up at Kara, who allowed the compromise.

This was already going better than Kara had anticipated. She sat down beside Cat, surprised by the temptation to scoot close to her, but stayed put.

“Okay, so here’s what you need to know-,” Kara began.

“Just hit play,” Cat cut her off. She was acting annoyed, but Kara knew her well and knew the irritation was feigned. She smiled and hit the play button.

The booming theme music started and Kara instantly felt a rush of joy. She fought the urge to read the crawler out loud, like Jeremiah used to do when they watched it together.

Kara grabbed the bowl of popcorn and set it between them, beginning to munch. The opening scene began and Kara was acutely aware of Cat’s eyes on her. She turned to face her.

“Why do you like this movie so much?” Cat asked, quietly.

Kara slowed her chewing. Allowing Kara to invade her office like this was a step of vulnerability for Cat. Kara could at least return the gesture with some openness of her own.

“I used to watch it with my adopted dad all the time,” Kara answered. “It was the first thing we watched together when I came to Ear-,” she caught herself. “When I came to live with them.” She shrugged. “I loved that it was about space and all these different worlds and people.”

Cat slowly nodded her satisfaction at the answer. After another moment passed, Cat reached over to take a couple kernels of popcorn.

They fell into silence, watching the movie. Kara was so happy to share the experience with Cat. The older woman would occasionally ask a question about the plot. Kara easily answered every one of them. Cat sipped on her drink, getting a refill when it was drained. Kara opened the boxes of candy.  

“Milk dud?” Kara offered the candy to Cat.

Turning her nose up, Cat asked, “Milk, what?”

“It’s chocolate and caramel,” Kara told her, laughing.

“No.” Cat said emphatically, like the offer was below her.

Kara shook her head at the woman and set to the task of emptying the box. As the movie went on, Kara got into the fight scenes, moving her body in imitation of the moves that the characters performed.

She sat back at the end of one particularly intense scene and looked over, seeing Cat grinning at her.

“What?” Kara asked.

“You’re cute,” was all Cat said, holding her gaze.

Kara was caught off guard. “Um… you, too.” It just came out. It was a silly response, but Cat simply kept the grin and turned back to the screens.

The last big battle scene came. As Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fought Darth Maul with all they had, the two women unconsciously moved closer to one another, leaning forward, on the edge of their seat.  Qui-Gon fell and, despite that she had seen it a hundred times, Kara collapsed against the back of the sofa, upset.

Cat turned to her. “Did you think it would be different this time?” The sarcasm was evident.

Kara smiled at the joke. “It just makes me sad. Qui-Gon meant everything to him.”

Soon, the credits were rolling. Cat sighed and stood from the sofa. Kara was immediately disappointed, but she stood as well. Together, they moved the furniture back to its place and cleaned up.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Kara,” Cat said.

There was a softness to her expression that Kara hadn’t seen before. It made Kara want to touch her, touch her face or her hair. It didn’t matter. She was struck by how beautiful Cat was.

Blinking, Kara told her, “There are seven of them, you know. Eight if you count that spin off.”

“Maybe we can watch another one sometime.” Cat went behind her desk and gathered her things. She walked passed Kara, stopping at the door. “See you in the morning?”

Kara could only nod. She felt betrayed by her feelings, suddenly. She had been enamoured with Cat before she left. It had taken months to move past it. She had even resorted to using Mon-El as a distraction.

Now, Cat was back and talking about human connection and looking at Kara with those deep eyes. All the emotions came flooding back. Kara’s feet were stuck to the floor and her voice was caught in her throat.

Cat gave her a closed-lip smile and walked toward her elevator, leaving Kara standing alone in her office, wondering what she had just started.

[glare-gryphon]

Horizon Light - Part 7

~2400 Words

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort

On Ao3 or below the cut!

Their second test drift goes about as well as the first. Falling into alignment is easy this time, as are the tests that LOCCENT has them run through once they’re synced. They’re well on their way to getting back out in the field, if the unmitigated delight in Muni’s voice as he walks them through their tasks is any indication. Obi-Wan knows they’ve made progress, even in the short few days since their agreement to really give copiloting a chance, and that high command is eager to get as many hands on deck as possible with the Hound down and the Glory out of commission until her pilots get out of medical. No, the problem comes afterward, when the harnesses are undone and the circuitry suits are peeled off. When they’re walking back to their quarters side by side, the echoes of each other’s thoughts and emotions still drifting through their minds. When they realize the magnetic pull that has them leaning heavily into the other isn’t just a product of their burgeoning relationship.

They’re ghosting.

It’s almost unheard of in such a fresh piloting pair. Most rangers, if they ghost at all, will only do so after hours upon hours spent in the cockpit; Obi-Wan had been piloting with Qui for months before they had first experienced a ghost drift. The fact that he’s doing so with Skywalker after only two drifts is unnerving, and he can feel the other man’s tension through their lingering connection. Obi-Wan can only assume it to be a product of their initial connection—of that too-long drift that began their partnership—in combination with their unique history with broken pair bonds. Those severed connections have caused them to cling even tighter to this new bond. It’s nothing short of terrifying.

Obi-Wan supposes he shouldn’t be entirely surprised that they’ve fallen into another argument by the time they reach the privacy of their quarters. Sharp, panicked words laced with blame and confusion as they try to force distance between them. The emotions are like a feedback loop, escalating with each pass between them. They had agreed to this, but they hadn’t agreed to this. This intrusion. This intimacy that they share, but shouldn’t.

“If you don’t like me, maybe you should just find another copilot!” Skywalker snaps, replying to a dig Obi-Wan made about the state of his side of the room. About the disarray the younger man’s things are always in.

Obi-Wan snorts. “At least I wouldn’t be piloting with an insolent child!”

“At least I would be piloting with somebody who gives a damn; at least they wouldn’t just stand there and watch their copilot die!”

There is suddenly a stillness between them. Skywalker’s face falls from aggression to horror at the realization of the boundary he’s crossed, knows immediately the effects of his words as they swirl through Obi-Wan’s mind and back through their lingering connection. Obi-Wan isn’t there to see it, however. He flees into the bathroom—the only place he can go considering that his copilot stands between him and the main door. Locking the bathroom door behind him, he sinks to the floor with his back to it and tries to catch his faltering breath. His mind is a storm, wild and chaotic, and Skywalker’s words ring in his ears.

At least they wouldn’t just stand there and watch their copilot die!

The words are like a knife to his gut; a bitter reminder of his one greatest failure. Because he had just stood there, frozen in fear, as Maul charged. As the hull tore open. As Maul killed—

He’s shaking violently, unable to catch his breath, the world around him beginning to spin with the lack of oxygen. Rationally, he knows he’s having a panic attack. This is not the first the first he’s had since Qui-Gon’s death—not even the first he’s had since becoming Skywalker’s copilot. That knowledge doesn’t help in settling him at all, only makes it worse, if he’s being honest. They were trying to move past this.

A bitter sob rips from his throat, but it’s all but drowned out by pounding on the door. Skywalker, apparently unnerved by his sudden flight, banging against the metal and rattling at the handle. “Open the door,” Skywalker commands, and Obi-Wan ignores him. It doesn’t deter his copilot, as he might have hoped. Instead, it only causes Skywalker to bang harder against the barrier between them. “So help me god, Kenobi, I will take this door off its hinges if you don’t open it.”

As much as he’d like to tell himself that Skywalker is bluffing, he and Skywalker have spent a fair bit of their time trying to get to know one another better. He is exactly that stubborn when it comes to getting what he wants, and has the mechanical know-how to accomplish it. There is no other option but to force himself to unsteady feet, and flick the lock on the door open

Obi-Wan stumbles backwards as the door swings open, a flushed Skywalker barging through, in attempt to put some distance between them. When his back hits the shower door, when he can go no further, he sinks to the floor once again and curls in on himself, bracing for whatever comes next. He's expecting violence—expecting Skywalker to last out at him as he has in every major argument since their meeting—and can't help the startled gasp that leaves him when it doesn't come. There's no blood, no pain; just Anakin sinking to his knees before Obi-Wan and bundling the older man to his chest. He buries his nose in Obi-Wan's hair, and he can feel Skywalker shaking with Obi-Wan’s own wild panic. The man’s remorse is a sour thing on his tongue.

"I'm so sorry," Skywalker murmurs fervently into his temple. "I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan. I didn't mean—I shouldn't have said—

"Stars, I'm so sorry. Please, please don't leave me."

Obi-Wan is unsure how to respond to this uncharacteristic, desperate cling. He can feel the echo of is in his own mind; a need for touch that has him twisting his fingers into Skywalker's dirty undershirt and leaning into the younger man's embrace.

It's been so long since Obi-Wan had allowed himself the simplicity of human contact. Not since before Qui-Gon's death, if he’s being completely honest. There were light touches, consoling brushes of fingers across his shoulders and down his arms, but never this full-body press that he and Skywalker are sharing. He had almost forgotten what it was like to bask in another's closeness—to feel their heat beating out of time with your own, to smell their scent and be enveloped in everything they are.

Skywalker smells like sweat and oil. Like slightly singed hair from the circuitry suit and the meal they'd had for lunch. His lips are chapped when they brush along Obi-Wan's temple, murmuring more soft apologies in contrast to the strong grip that he keeps on Obi-Wan's clothes. As though he fears the older man will disappear if he lets go for only a moment.

This is unlikely to happen, consider Obi-Wan doesn't intend to go anywhere now that Skywalker has hold of him. He's warm and content for the first time in so long, the brush of Skywalker's hands against his touch-starved skin enough to drive away the unpleasant thoughts of their argument. They just cling to each other; a desperate grasp for stability. They have both lost so much. They have lied to themselves, claiming they needed nothing else. But they need this—another person who can understand—however terrifying that connection may be.

Eventually, it is Anakin that drags them to their feet. They lean heavily on one another as the younger pilot hauls them to Obi-Wan's bed. It is a testament to his hazy state of mind that he does not protest when Anakin wrestles him onto the mattress, nor when he climbs in after. Anakin drags the blankets over them, curling himself around Obi-Wan’s back and throwing an arm around his waist in a gesture that is probably too intimate for their current relationship. Obi-Wan is too exhausted to care, their argument and his subsequent panic attack having taken more out of him than he expected.

“We’re going to be ok,” Skywalker murmurs into the nape of his neck, sounding as though he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince Obi-Wan. “We’re going to do this, and we’re going to be ok.”

The next morning finds them with the boxes of Qui-Gon’s things pulled from the storage space below his bunk. Obi-Wan’s hands shake at his side in contrast to the bracing grip Anakin keeps on his shoulder. They’re just boxes; they shouldn’t be as terrifying as they are. Still he finds himself hesitating, staring blankly at these vessels of his life before this. Before Anakin. He’s scared that if he tries to dig through them, the memories will consume him; he’s scared that if he doesn’t, they’ll consume him anyway.

Anakin squeezes his shoulder, grounding. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks. “You don’t have to. We can wait.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “No, I have to do this. I will never be able to move forward if I am still clinging to the past.”

“Ok,” Anakin says. “Well, I’m here if you need me.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs as the man’s hand slips away. Anakin clambers back onto his bunk, flipping open a file on the Horizon’s mechanical schematics to offer him some semblance of privacy. There’s no real privacy in as small of a space as their quarters, but Obi-Wan appreciates the gesture nonetheless.

The first box to be opened is filled to the brim with a variety of knickknacks. Small stones and bits of dried plants Qui-Gon had collected from around the various shatterdomes they’d been stationed at over the years, miscellaneous figurines that hadn’t belonged anywhere else, a few wayward photographs that had escaped the bundle Obi-Wan knows is tucked away in another box. He tries not to look at them as he sets them aside, this process difficult enough without dragging out memories that he’d rather leave be for now. Most of the contents of this box can simply be thrown out, if he’s being completely honest. It’s a terrible thought, but Obi-Wan never shared his partner’s propensity to collect bits and bobs as he went about his day. In fact, it had driven him up the wall on most occasions. He feels terribly guilty about it now, and can’t help but slip a smooth river stone into his pocket for safekeeping.

The second box is filled with paperwork. Their contracts with the PPDC, their medical records, information on their next of kin. There are also stacks of mission reports that should have been filled out after their drops. Obi-Wan’s had been filed; Qui-Gon’s had not. Windu used to complain incessantly about the man’s inability to file anything, which left Obi-Wan to wrestle the man into doing something in order to get the Marshall off their back. There is also a stack of photographs bound by a rubber band resting at the bottom of the box. These are joined by the photos from the previous box, then are shoved into a drawer beneath his cot with no further inspection. Anakin has photographs of himself and Ahsoka taped up to the wall around his cot, but Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s quite ready for that yet.

In the third box are Qui-Gon’s clothes. It was in this box that he'd stashed the bottle of booze Quinlan had left behind—that Anakin had terrified him into breaking. Now there's only a stack of tee shirts, all of them declaring some horrible, botanical pun in colorful lettering; pairs of pants that ate worn and heavily patched in places; a rumpled sweater that Obi-Wan had given Qui-Gon for the holidays in a soft blue. He holds the sweater to his face and inhales, but the scent of Qui-Gon's skin and his cologne have long since faded from the fabric. Instead there is only the musty smell to be expected from clothes that have been stuffed in a box for weeks. Expecting it doesn't stop it from being disappointing.

He has to decide what needs to be done with these things; it is the reason he's going through these boxes. The pants are long past their prime, held together by Qui-Gon's patch-job and much too big for Obi-Wan, anyhow. The tee shirts will have to go as well, though he does set aside a few of the less offensive of their number to sleep in. The sweater is... Well, it is something of a dilemma. It doesn't feel right to keep it, but throwing it away feels like an even worse option.

Without his permission, his eyes drift over to where Anakin lays on his cot, apparently immersed in the technical readouts from the Horizon's latest tests. He could just be giving Obi-Wan privacy, but the reality is that he's likely actually quite engrossed. Anakin has an interest in machines. I'd originally wanted to go into jaeger tech, he'd confessed to Obi-Wan over dinner two days ago, but Ahsoka was desperate to pilot, and I could never deny her anything.

Obi-Wan hovers awkwardly beside Anakin's cot as he waits for the other man not notice him. "What?" He asks, more curious than hostile despite the interruption to his reading.

"Here," Obi-Wan spits out, shoving the sweater into his chest and not daring to look the man in the face. "It matches your eyes."

From the corner of his eye, he sees the way Anakin's own face flushes as he gently holds the sweater up for inspection. He rubs the fabric between the fingers of his organic hand, curious. Obi-Wan's lips twitch into a real, genuine smile, watching Anakin shrug into the sweater with apparent delight.

"Thank you," the other man says, ducking his head shyly. "It—it fits well."

"It looks good on you," Obi-Wan replies, swallowing dryly. Their eyes meet for just a moment, and what they see leaves them scrambling to return to their previous activities. Neither is paying their tasks the full attention now, however.

"You idiot—" Obi-Wan thinks he hears Anakin mutter, but doesn't ask after the man's self-flagellation. He's too busy berating himself with exactly those same words.