#hurt obi wan kenobi

[journen]

I wanted to draw back muscles, and hurt Obi-Wan. So I combined the two lol.

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

madness

Summary: Obi-Wan shows up at Cody's quarters with an infected lightsaber wound. Cody, unfortunately, is forced to call Skull, the 212th's lead medic.

(Or, the follow-up to Skull's infamous run-in with the 212th's newest secret couple)

Word Count: 3,292

Read part one here on tumblr or on ao3

Cody, in a rare event, had three free hours to relax, let loose, just… probably sleep. 

Truthfully, he had requested that some extra time be carved out of his schedule while he was back on the Negotiator. Obi-Wan –the General– he often needed to remind himself, was away on a solo mission, one ordered by the Jedi Council. Without the General there, Cody was otherwise only filing reports away and waiting for him to get back.

Cody determinedly tried not to think about that exact fact. Typically, the Council’s missions were dangerous, often risky. Obi-Wan would usually admit later that he had to abandon his own sensical nature when it came to his recent Jedi duties. 

The thought made Cody’s hair stand up.

Deciding, against his own urges, that there was nothing he himself could do to trick his mind into thinking positively, Cody made a purposeful effort to lay down and not think. About anything.

He crawled under the sheets, which of course still smelled like Obi-Wan’s Coruscantian cologne, and forced himself to breathe deep breaths. Pulling the blankets up under his chin and rubbing his fists over he heavy eyelids, Cody redirected his thoughts away from his duties and shut his eyelids against the soft glow of light coming from underneath the door of his small quarters. 

Seconds –it seemed– later, he was blinking his eyes open to the sound of a hesitant knock against the heavy metal door of his quarters. Blearily, he blinked once or twice as he raised his head from the pillow to look at the door.

The knock came again, only slightly louder.

“Who is it?” He called out, his coarse tone coming out with the words. He hoped whoever was behind the door, particularly if it was Waxer, the little shit, would get the hint. 

The response was another, more urgent, knock.

Cody groaned, head falling back into the pillow before he threw off his covers. He pulled a loose pair of old blacks onto his legs and trudged to the door, hastily slapping the button by the door to slide it open.

The person at the door was not Waxer, but Cody immediately wished it was. 

“What the kriff happened?” 

Cody’s body went rigid as he asked the question and took in the image before him.

Obi-Wan stood in the doorway, a sheepish frown on his sweaty face. He wore a soiled tunic and ripped pants; he had one hand pressed against the side of his ribs. In the other hand, he held a rumpled pile of medical supplies in a sack made out of a medical gown. Cody could see gauze and unopened bacta patches hanging out of the sides of it. 

“I’ve made it back.” Obi-Wan said nonchalantly, though there was a nervous edge to his tone. “And nothing too serious; had a minor run in with Ventress.” 

Cody stared at him, eyebrows raised as his thoughts moved at the speed of light. He looked toward Obi-Wan’s side where his hand was clenched over the wound. Rather than coated in blood, the edges of his tunic, where it peaked out from behind his hand, were singed. 

Lightsaber wound. 

Cody didn’t need to ask for confirmation, it was more than obvious. 

“May I come in?” Obi-Wan looked at him expectantly, hardened facial features faltering for just a moment as he wobbled on his feet. 

Cody caught his arm, and pulled him gently through the door. “On the bed. Sit.” Cody said sternly, trying to keep the anger out of his tone, as he led Obi-Wan towards his bunk.

The General offered Cody a soft, apologetic smile as he sat down singerly on the bed, still clutching at his side. 

Cody’s heartbeat pounded heavily inside the walls of his chest as he took the makeshift sack of medical supplies out of Obi-Wan’s other arm and unrolled the contents on the floor. He noted a few small bacta patches, a couple rolls of gauze, several adhesive bandages, and one hypo filled with force-knows-what. 

If Cody had to guess, Obi-Wan had snagged a stim instead of a painkiller thinking he could get some paperwork out of the way once he’s been bandaged up. 

“You know, lightsaber burns aren’t minor, Obi-Wan…” Cody’s voice trailed off as he straightened up from his crouch and took a seat next to Obi-Wan’s injured side, medical supplies falling out of his arms and onto the course blanket stretched over his bunk. 

The look on Obi-Wan’s face said it all– he looked defeated, eyes cast toward the floor and lips curled into something of a terse frown.

“I’ve had enough time in the medbay recently.” He muttered and cleared his throat, “Skull would probably have more than enough to say about the last time I needed him anyway.” 

Cody barely held back a snort as his cheeks warmed a little. He had just gotten comfortable with forgetting about that force-forsaken night several weeks before. Cody had a reputation to uphold– one of strict adherence to procedures, never swaying from the books unless it was an absolute necessity– and yet, a simple visit from Skull had all but ruined that. 

He had yet to work up the nerve to talk to Skull about it. He knew the medic well enough to realize he was just as stubborn and equally loyal, but the teasing– 

That– Cody simply could not bear to endure if he didn’t strictly have to.

Instead, he dealt with the smug looks Skull repeatedly sent him from across the room during briefings. Once, he’d even overheard Skull call him loverboy in a conversation with Oxy at the mess hall. Though they pretended not to see Cody standing several troopers behind them, the Commander could barely handle the minor jab without the tops of his cheeks turning into an embarrassingly bright shade of red. 

Cody shook the thoughts out of his head as he pressed his fingers over Obi-Wan’s trembling ones that still remained over the top of the wound. “You think you can let go?” He asked the General. Obi-Wan glanced down and nodded once in affirmation, though he didn’t look so convinced of his own agreement. 

Cody was patient, his own fingers hovering inches away, as Obi-Wan gently pulled each of his shaking, bloody fingers away from the wound.

Immediately, Cody was hit with the stench of infection. The red, swollen edges of the wound all but confirmed that it had been there for days without even so much as a splash of water to flush it out. Cody swallowed, his protective nature kicking into high gear. 

“Obi-Wan, did you clean this out?” He asked as calmly as possible, voice barely wavering.

He looked up to find Obi-Wan staring straight forward, head shaking from side-to-side. He looked as though he himself didn’t want to see the damage. “I couldn’t find the time. Ventress is a capable competitor.” 

Cody tried not to imagine what Obi-Wan’s words implied, but his mind ran out of control against his will.

Was he trapped somewhere? Hiding for hours with no food or water? Barely able to stand but still fighting tooth and nail?

The thought of it made Cody sick to his stomach.

“We might need Skull afterall, Obi-Wan. This is– it’s bad.” 

“...bad?” Obi-Wan asked, eyebrows raised. He hissed as Cody pressed a gentle finger against the very edge of the red line surrounding the burn. 

“It’s infected, not a chance these bacta patches will be able heal this.” Cody glared at the fine print on the outside of the wrapper of one of the patches. They were only meant to treat minor wounds, ones sustained hours before nonetheless. 

Obi-Wan had severely underestimated the nature of the wound– the supplies he brought would barely make a dent on a papercut, much less an infected burn wound. 

“You don’t think we should at least try them? I would hate to waste his time, Cody. I’m sure Skull has more pressing–” Obi-Wan tried to resist, his dirt and blood covered hand coming back to try and cover the wound once again. Cody grabbed it before he could make contact with his exposed skin.

“No!” Obi-Wan looked momentarily alarmed, but quickly shut his mouth and put his arm back behind him where it had been before. “Listen– I have baseline medical training, but this– this is not good. This is why we have Skull anyway.”

Obi-Wan brought his other hand to rub over his beard and let out a shaky breath. He sat up a little straighter. “We’ll go to the medbay then.” He announced. Cody shot him a look of warning.

“Seriously? Not in a million rotations would I let you get up right now.” Cody stood from the bed and reached for his comlink where it sat on the table next to his bed. 

Growling under his breath, he messaged Skull with the bad news.

Lightsaber wound. Infected. Surface wound.

He paused before adding the last part and cursed under his breath.

My quarters. 

Skull was going to have a field day with that. 

Cody stepped back into Obi-Wan’s view and assessed the rest of his appearance searching for other undisclosed wounds or scrapes. Other than the slash across his side, he looked relatively unharmed. Sire, a few bruises lined the curve of his jaw and his cheeks, but that was barely anything new. Obi-Wan had a habit of putting himself in harms way regardless of whether it was really necessary or not. 

“Let’s at least get the tunic off of you.” Cody said gently and curled a hand under Obi-Wan’s jaw to try and force a moment of eye-contact. Obi-Wan looked at him with something like irritation on his face, then something softer. 

“Would you do the honors, dear?” He asked in just a whisper, eyes wide.

Cody, unable to help himself, pressed a gentle kiss to the edge of his hairline and offered up a muted smile. “Of course.”

He took the knife from his utility belt and cut through the beige layers of clothes so he could easily peel them away from Obi-Wan’s skin, gentle around the lightsaber gash. While he wasn’t nearly as soiled underneath the clothes, his ribs were clearly bruised and his neck appeared to have red marks crawling around the outside of it. 

Cody looked away, not wanting to imagine Ventress dangling Obi-Wan by his neck in the air.

“It’s rather cold here, is it not?” Obi-Wan’s voice broke him from his thoughts. 

Cody considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Concern grew in his chest. He reached to feel Obi-Wan’s forehead and was alarmed to find that the skin was scalding to the touch.

Kriff. Infection. 

Cody was medically trained enough to know that fevers with infections were never a good sign. For the first time, Cody silently wished Skull would get there faster. 

“You have a fever.” Cody said, breaking the momentary silence and brushing the rogue hairs off of Obi-Wan’s suddenly sweaty forehead. While his cheeks had looked gaunt moments before, now his face was stained red with warmth. He trembled even more, gooseflesh coating the skin of his chest. 

Cody opened his mouth to offer his reassurance, and maybe a blanket, when there was a knock at the door. 

Thank force. 

He stood and strode to the door in a few short steps before pressing the button to open the door. 

Skull stood there, arms full with both Obi-Wan’s personal medical kit and another large black bag presumably filled with additional medical supplies. He didn’t look quite as panicked as Cody thought he should, but then again, medical trauma was his everyday.

“Looks like shirts are optional in here. Noted.” Skull said, eyebrows raised as he walked into the small quarters. He looked between Obi-Wan and Cody.

Cody glanced down at his own chest and muttered a curse. Of course he was shirtless. Again. So much for napping shirtless anymore.

Cody didn’t have a chance to muster up his own snarky remark before Skull brushed by him and toward Obi-Wan’s shaking form still sitting on the bed. Cody followed him, annoyance fading immediately as he noticed the water collecting in the corners of Obi-Wan’s eyes. 

He looked overwhelmed all of the sudden, eyes flickering past Skull and landing on Cody’s own.

Cody wished he could scoop him up, hold him tightly in his arms for just a few precious minutes. 

“Sir, how long ago did this happen?” Skull asked mechanically, freshly sanitized hands pressing around the outside of the wound making Obi-Wan jump and suck in a deep breath. 

“Erm–” Obi-Wan swallowed, “Perhaps two days? Three?” Cody could tell the feverish haze was setting in; Obi-Wan was not one to confuse his timelines. 

Skull looked concerned at the time frame, eyeing the wound more closely. He didn’t look satisfied when he sat back on his heels from where he knelt on the durasteel floor. He motioned to Cody to step aside, away from Obi-Wan.

“When did the fever start?” Skull asked expectantly. “I’m assuming he’s been here for more than a few minutes?

Cody sighed. “Since he came here, I don’t know– twenty minutes ago? And he’s sick of the medbay– I don’t think he realized how bad it is.”

Skull rubbed an irritated hand across his face. “You know, Cody, if he’ll listen to you, maybe you can convince him to come to me next time.” Cody tried not to look sheepish, even pulling his lips into a hard line.

“I can’t make Ob– the General listen to me.” Cody corrected himself quickly. 

“Banthashit. That’s the only reason I’m actually here and he hasn’t already dragged his lifeless body to the medbay instead. Just own it Commander; the General is wrapped around your finger.” If punching a medic in the face wasn’t likely a decommissionable offense, Cody would have already done it. 

“Skull I swear to– I do not. It’s not like that–” 

“I’ve seen what I’ve seen, Cody. Your insistence is meaningless.” Skull said, the shook his head once. “Back on topic– bacta bandages probably won’t fully heal that monstrosity, but I think they can hold him over until we can convince him of submersion tomorrow. That– and shitload of antibiotics.”

The insurmountable anger Skull had incited in him just a couple of minutes before dissipated.

Submersion.

Cody knew Obi-Wan hated it. Cody had only endured it himself once before, and he had been equally as disenchanted with it, and that was without the added roadblock of claustrophobia.

“Are you sure? Full submersion?” Cody asked, looking nervously toward Obi-Wan who had since closed his eyes.

“It’s an infected lightsaber wound, not a kriffing scrape Cody.” Skull reminded him, and stepped back towards the bunk.

Cody watched silently, sitting beside Obi-Wan’s head in a metal chair, as Skull coaxed Obi-Wan to lie down on his side so the wound was fully exposed. The medic made quick work with a set of heavy, white bandages which were clearly more fit for the job than the tiny bacta patches Obi-Wan had brought from the medbay. 

Skull took a mixed painkiller-antibiotic hypo and gently pressed it into Obi-Wan’s neck before he began to slather on a generous layer of full-strength bacta gel, the kind that was only used when things were serious. Though the painkillers clearly took the edge off, Cody still cringed at the occasional tiny moans that escaped past Obi-Wan’s stony, rigid exterior. 

“Kriff.” Cody heard Obi-Wan hiss as Skull took a long strip of high-grade gauze and pressed down across the length of the wound. 

“Sorry, General. I know it stings; hold tight.”

Obi-Wan audibly cursed again when Skull pressed a long strip of adhesive bandage over the gauze. “That should do it for now.” Skull said, leaning back again helping Obi-Wan to roll onto his back, a more comfortable position. 

Cody noted the minor relief painted across Obi-Wan’s features. Whatever cocktail of drugs Skull had given him clearly worked, and his forehead no longer was coated in a layer of sweat. Without the large, gaping burn wound out in the open, Obi-Wan looked less like a walking corpse, and more like a human punching bag. Regardless, it was an improvement. 

“I’ve got two more doses of painkillers from your kit.” Skull said as he rummaged through the case he had brought with him. “Have Cody give you one every four hours, and I’ll send a med transport to come get you tomorrow morning.”

Obi-Wan blinked twice and furrowed his brow. “Oh that certainly won’t be necessary. Could you leave a few bandages behind? I’m sure I can change them myself.”

Skull raised his eyebrows again and turned to Cody with a smug, knowing smile. “Cody?” He asked, amusement lacing his tone. 

Kriffing Skull.

Cody drew both of his hands over his face and suppressed a groan. 

“General– Skull is right. You aren’t fit to walk, and I don’t think bacta gel is going to cut it.” Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed.

“If you insist, Cody.” He answered politely. 

And no, Cody hadn’t insisted. 

Skull’s shit-eating grin was almost too much for Cody to handle. 

“Well Skull, looks like your job here is done.” Cody said loudly and grabbed his closed medical bags from the floor as he headed towards the door. After exchanging his last words with Obi-Wan, Skull followed him and took the bags from his hands.

“So star-crossed lovers it looks like? A match made in heaven? The only type of relationship where The Obi-Wan Kenobi will listen to you over a medical professional. I told you, wrapped around your finger.” Skull said as Cody nearly punched the button to open the door of his quarters. 

“Oh fuck off.” Cody said, rolling his eyes, but his cheeks were still burning. “Whatever is going on here is between me and the General.” He finished as Skull stepped into the hallway.

“Oh I’m sure there are plenty of things going on between you and the General.” Skull said with a wink. “See you tomorrow, Cody.”

Fucking kriff. 

Cody was never going to live it down, was he?

He let out his exasperation in the form of punching the door just as it closed, which though painful, was enough to make him feel marginally better. 

Collecting his thoughts, Cody headed back to the bunk where Obi-Wan still laid on his back, eyes half-shut, and bloody hand resting over his chest. Cody leaned over him and he perked up a little offering a hint of a grin as his eyes blinked open.

“You know, maybe we should just accept that Skull knows; make it official.” Obi-Wan murmured.

“What? And admit defeat? Ruin my reputation?” Cody was mildly offended at the suggestion, but he still ran a gentle hand through the greasy, unwashed hair on top of Obi-Wan’s head.

“He already knows, dear.” Obi-Wan said with a mild chuckle that shook his chest, then a small hiss of pain. 

“That doesn’t mean I need to admit it to him.” Cody retorted, and stood to find some sort of cloth to clean Obi-Wan’s bloody, dirt-covered fingers. Obi-Wan just snorted.

“Always so stubborn, Commander.” He whispered as Cody gently wiped his hands and then gently rubbed in some lotion he kept in the drawer of the table by his bed. "Thank you for calling Skull- I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking."

"Always so stubborn, Obi-Wan." He repeated, smiling gently, "I'm just happy you're here now, with me."

They sat in silence, Cody still massaging the callouses on Obi-Wan’s hand and admiring the gentle curve of his jaw. He pressed a kiss to the middle of Obi-Wan’s chest.

Perhaps it didn’t really matter what Skull thought after all.

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

After almost two years of war, Obi-Wan knew the chances of him making it out alive were low. He wasn't infallible, he wasn't unbeatable and with every campaign and every mission, bone-deep exhaustion plagued his every moment. That didn't mean Obi-Wan didn't hope. Hope that the war would end soon. Hope that he would be there when Ahsoka was knighted. Hope for a better future. Obi-Wan should have known those dreams weren't feasible. He had just never thought Anakin wouldn't be there with him as they fall apart. His padawan had so much to live for - Ahsoka, his men. Senator Amidala. He didn't deserve to have his life cut short so soon. None of them did. (His men were fighting for their lives on the ground; the whole mission had turned out to be an elaborate trap and oh Force, they were being slaughtered and where was Obi-Wan when they needed him–) Obi-Wan oft thought of himself as a realist, an idealist even. In actuality, he was a liar. And the person he lied most to was himself. As he crouched before his padawanchildbrother Anakin's fallen body, the Jedi Master couldn't help but wonder. Had there even been a future to look forward to? What was the point? The redhead shook off the intrusive thoughts, unwelcome and desolating as they were. This was not the time or place for such laments. As unfair and unwelcome as their situation was, Obi-Wan couldn't help but be grateful that they had left Ahsoka with the men on the ground. The thought both reassured him and very much did not. How similar to her Master, the Togruta turned out to be. (Obi-Wan hoped his men were fine, that his grand-padawan was fine. It was a pipe dream - they were at war after all - but it was one that didn't perish no matter how often it was proved wrong.) Obi-Wan heaved for breath, sweat running down his temple. One would wonder how they ended up here. In the middle of a battle, the two of them separated from their troops. They had successfully hijacked the Separatist dreadnought, which intelligence believed to be holding the captured diplomats when everything went sideways. And oh Force, how sideways it went. The information turned out to be a complete hoax. They had been ambushed by three squads of droids the moment they entered the prison brig. They had barely made it out before another squad joined the fray. After that, everything was a blur of running and fighting and even more running. And then - in the mids of it all - something had exploded. The strength of the explosion had sent them flying, the heat of the blast blistering the skin of his exposed neck. Obi-Wan's ears had rung and spots had invaded his vision as he skidded to a stop. The hall before them had filled with droids in the seconds it took him to regain his bearings. Anakin had had less luck than him. He had been by the corner when the blast reached him, throwing him into the nearby wall like a rag doll on stims. He was now lying a few feet away from Obi-Wan, unconscious, burnt and probably bleeding from the shrapnel wounds covering his body. The Force around him felt drowsy and his presence was threaded with a dull throbbing of pain. If Anakin was anything it was being frighteningly capable of hiding his pain. (Leftover from his past, a tiny part of his brain chanted as it always did when Anakin's mental stability was brought up. Shut up, he shushed it sternly. He didn't need any more distractions, his attention was already divided between the worry for his padawan and the droids that were trying to blast him to bits–) He twisted out of the way of a blaster bolt, raising his lightsaber just in time to stop another. They were forced into a literal corner and the droids didn't. stop. coming. There was no space for his usual acrobatics, no space to escape the deadly barrage. There was no space to simply breathe. Had Obi-Wan not been a master of compartmentalizing releasing his feelings into the Force, he would have been rendered completely useless by the bubbling panic in his gut. (He might have been a Jedi first but a liar came a close second.) Alarms rang through the air as the Jedi Master's eyes jumped from one advancing droid to another. His lightsaber thrummed in his hands, a blur of light creating an impenetrable barrier between the duo and their attackers. (No medevac would be spared even if Obi-Wan could call for one. And he couldn't. They were being swarmed before the droids received the orders for a suicide run. Before the kriffing pieces of scrap turned off the gravity and opened fire with the heavy artillery. They were on a ship outside atmo for Force's sake, there was no escaping this one–) Truth be told, Obi-Wan wasn't that better off than his former student. His energy was waning with every passing second and his muscles screamed in protest with every move. His guard was slipping; the only reason he hadn't dropped it completely was the dwindling warmth at the back of his head. (There was something truly terrifying in the fact he could tell it was dwindling. Not dimed, but dying-?!) Until the backlash of the broken bond hit him, Obi-Wan would hold the line. The redhead only wished the droids would stop coming. That way the task wouldn't appear so monumental. He didn't have the time to breathe, much less try and remove both Anakin and himself from this thrice-damned hallway. The less said about Anakin's state the better. (How Obi-Wan wished they could escape- that Anakin could escape, that his padawan would survive- but he had been prodding the bond every few seconds and all he could feel was the fuzziness of unconsciousness muddled with the pain, plaguing the younger man's body. It was a searing sensation, paralyzing any rational thought that might have traveled through the needle-wide bond. At one point even hope had to die in the face of reality.) Then something faded, something broke. A bolt passed through Obi-Wan's guard striking him between the ribs. Another followed. And another. There was a certain emptiness in his head. One less bright spot in the web of stars he was connected to. He felt like it should have been a nova - devastating in its destruction, but it wasn't. There were no black holes or white dwarfs left behind. The star was gone, taking with it the light that should have outlived him. ("Let go," whispered a voice almost as well-known to his psyche as his own. "Master, it's over, let go." And how Obi-Wan wished he could - but his padawan was lying behind him more dead than alive and he was not moving.) There was frantic energy humming beneath his skin, pushing him forward. He ignored it. ("I'm dead, old man," the voice choked around the words, the familiar fake smile obvious in his words. And the quirks he could hear, the expression Obi-Wan could imagine plastered on sun-kissed skin, almost brought the Jedi Master to his knees, because wasn't that the truth? "There is no saving me now. Let me go." The beloved voice was begging, where it had never done so before and wasn't that criminal? Obi-Wan Kenobi could bring despair even to those residing in the Force. He should put that in his file - it would surely endear him to the senators even more. If he lived to share the tale that is. "I'm dead. Let me go. Isn't that what you always tell me? Let go.") Obi-Wan's body took more bolts than the man deflected, and with every passing moment, the droids came closer to him them. The strange abundance of power dwindled as if muted by his own growing despair. There was something splintered in his mind. Obi-Wan decidedly didn't acknowledge it. (A small part of him did - his padawan was dead. He couldn't feel Anakin anymore. The last pieces of their bond were gone - erased from his mind as if the golden, unbreakable thread hadn't been Obi-Wan's lifeline. All that was left of it was ash and soul-wrenching pain.) (Everything was numb and distant. He was losing too much blood. And everything was too quiet. There was no blood-curdling scream, no never-ending cry of pure agony. The Force was silent. Obi-Wan wished he had the energy not to be.) And then, after several torturous moments, during which the Jedi's mind tried and failed to mitigate the psychic damage, Obi-Wan faltered. He failed to raise his lightsaber fast enough. Obi-Wan couldn't stop the blaster bolt before it hit him in the chest. Whatever power had been holding him upright vanished, leaving the Jedi Master to crumble to the floor. (It burned- oh, Force it burned- It was a moment and an eternity- An end, a definite end-) Obi-Wan Kenobi died. (That was how the 'great' Kenobi fell - not by the hand of another sentient being but to that of a droid programmed to advance until destruction- What a pity. It lacked a great deal of irony and had too little tragedy. What a pity indeed‐) He died. His body fell next to that of Anakin Skywalker, who had died mere minutes earlier. There would be no one to close their eyes seeing as the dreadnought they were on was already sailing nose down toward the ground. Days would have passed before their remains were found amidst the crash, buried among half-melted metal and twisted machinery. That was an end. Not the end perhaps, but an end nonetheless. It continued like this. Anakin Skywalker woke up.

this is the beginning of my force ghost au that I wanted to do; I am a sucker for whump and I wanted to see if I could write death scenes - the results are yet to be determined

Part 1 of hopefully more? we’ll see

[starwarjotta]

Day 5 - caf since my scribbles can be totally illegible, here’s a transcript Obi-Wan: Here you go, Cody Cody: Oh, thanks, sir Cody: this... it’s caf? Obi-Wan: Ah, yes! I’ve noticed my teas are not really to your tastes, so I stocked up some caf for you instead! I hope it’s okay Cody: ... oh Cody: ...thank you.

[agingerpanda]

Better now, that you’re here.

agingerpandacarrd.co

[padawansuggest]

Jedi Chat

Qui-Gon: WE NEED TO HAVE A LINEAGE MEETING!!!!

Dooku: Why? Did you upset another queen?

Qui-Gon: No!

Rael: He’s probably got one pregnant tho I’ve been waiting for him to bring me a niece or nephew for years.

Komari: Can we make this fast, I’m trying to bathe Xanatos’s spawn.

Xanatos: IM IN A MEETING I DONT HAVE TIME TO TRY AND PUT ANGRY FORCE SENSITIVE BABIES IN A TUB

Xanatos: THANK YOU FOR BABYSITTING KOKO

Komari: Yeah, whatever.

Qui-Gon: I am having a crisis here!!!

Dooku: *sigh* What’s wrong this time, Qui-Gon?

Qui-Gon: OBI WAN HAS A BOYFRIEND!!!!

Xanatos: wtf

Komari: but he’s only like two years old??????? He’s an infant??? He’s still in the womb this isn’t allowed????

Dooku: He’s fifteen, padawan, he can have a boyfriend if he wants.

Qui-Gon: NO HE CANNOT!!! He’s my baby!!

Rael: lmaoooo who’s the bf?

Qui-Gon: Quinlan Vos.

Dooku: nvm, you are right to panic. Si just got a vision of their first child and he’s a menace. All their worst in one baby. Wait… Si just said that’s just their first baby and they won’t be born for at least 5 years. Worst of luck to you all.

Qui-Gon: NO YOURE SUPPOSED TO REASSURE ME MASTER!!!

Dooku: Can’t. Bringing my husband to the healers he said that vision hurt.

Rael: Awww, it’ll be okay, Qui, Obi-Wan has at least five more years before he’s thrust into parenthood.

Qui-Gon: this meeting has been so unhelpful I hate you all.

Komari: listen, it might be a bit early to say this. But. I’m not free to babysit that weekend. This applies to all of them.

Xanatos: that’s fair. Komari is my babysitter, I’m the one with blackmail on her.

Komari: :/

[legobenkenobi]

sometimes i think about how absolutely TERRIFIED Cody must’ve been during the Zygerria arc.

not only was he left alone in charge of the entire 3rd systems army (so 501st and 212th, obviously) but when they finally hear back from Anakin and Ahsoka, it’s without Rex and Obi-Wan.

and it’s not good news. they literally got shipped out to a slave conditioning camp thats ran by people who HATE them.

the two people hes closest to. and BOTH of them are in a slave camp that WILL kill them if they don’t do everything perfectly.

one wrong move, and the people who mean the most to him would be gone in an instant.

and then, to not even get them back first? to have to wait to see them even longer?

and to see matching scars on his little brother and his closest companion from the brutal torture they went through together. to know they survived something awful and he couldn’t do anything to help. to be constantly reminded of it when he looks at them.

[captora]

Happy Valentine’s Day from the galaxy’s most in love couple

[ninjigma]

QuinObi Week Part 2/5 - First / Next

Day 2: Knighthood/Raising Padawans Track: 'How Bad We Need Each Other' - Marc Scibilia (Spotify / YouTube)

"I'll grab the bags." "And I will grab the Padawans." "But they're already-" The sound of excited squealing from Aayla and Anakin echoed throughout the halls, Obi-Wan unable to stop his own laughter from joining in and Quinlan smiling broadly at seeing the joy return to his friends face.

Kind of just a fun moment for the group, one of their first missions all together, pretty early on in Anakin's journey to become a Jedi. I have a whole little fic thought up for this that I am so sad I didn't get the chance to write but it is the one I am most tempted to work on and publish later anyhow, because it is just an all around bit of fun for the little family XD

Enjoy!

@quinobiweek

[sapphicsparkles]

Hurt/comfort obikin warmup sketch

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

night shift

Summary:

"What were they doing together in Cody’s quarters, of all places, at 0100 in the morning?"

Or the one where Skull, the lead medic for the 212th, gets a call from Cody when Obi-Wan has a late night allergic reaction. He finds an unexpected scene.

Word Count: 2,390

Skull liked the night shift when it was assigned to him; it was peaceful. 

It was quiet in the Negotiator’s medbay at night; it was a respite from bloody Generals and many of his irate brothers insisting they not be relegated to his care for a fucking paper cut that was usually a near-fatal stab wound.

Skull liked when he could take a seat and run through his weekly reports and shoot the shit with Oxy without having to pause.

Mostly, an empty medbay meant hours in his laboratory, a place where he could focus on preventative care instead. Skull’s eyes wandered over the notes he had written on a loose piece of flimsi. He peered back through his microscope at the bacta powder solution he had been studying for days. 

He had just settled in minutes early, his shift starting at 0100 hours, when he heard the familiar piercing beep of his comlink. He tried not to sigh. 

It blinked incessantly from across the lab, and Skull lifted his glasses from his face, curiosity peaked. Glancing briefly at the name on his comlink, Skull was surprised to see it wasn’t Oxy passive aggressively trying to get his attention from outside the locked laboratory door. 

Rather, it was Commander Cody.

Skull raised an eyebrow; as the 212th’s lead medic, he was presented with tentative schedules for all of the men, even that of his commanding officer. He had noted that Cody was off duty for a day and he was scheduled to be on the Negotiator to report virtually to the Jedi Council. In fact, Skull had even seen him in the mess hall at dinner .

Suppressing his concern and suspicion, Skull answered the com.

“Commander? Is everything alright? I saw you were scheduled for off-duty–” Skull wasn’t able to finish his sentence.

“It’s Ob– the General. He’s– I think he’s having some sort of reaction– he can barely breath–” Skull’s heart skipped a beat. Allergies. Anaphylaxis. 

Skull thought Obi-Wan’s lengthy list of allergies was under control . He had spent hours curating a list of approved dishes for the mess hall to cook for him, and even longer crafting a customized adrenaline shot tailored to Obi-Wan’s overactive immune system. 

Between Skull and the General, they had been so careful to pinpoint what he could and could not eat, so diligent to prevent any possible scenario that could occur on the battlefield?

What could he have possibly eaten, or been in contract with on the Negotiator?

“Short of breath, nausea…?” Skull asked as he shut off his lab lights and shoved his loose flimsi into a manilla folder. 

“Yes– his shots aren’t here. Says he forgot them– I–” Skull’s heart skipped a beat and he cut off Cody before more time could be wasted. 

“I’ll bring one. Just– stay on the line Commander.” Skull tried to keep his panic from worrying the Commander even more. Instead, he kept his tone flat and stood hastily from his rolling chair. 

Skull didn’t waste time and unlocked his lab door in haste. Oxy stared at him with a peculiar look of smugness and confusion mixed together. “Oi, Skully, you finally decided to do something useful?” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leaned back, arms crossed against the medical bed behind him. 

Skull ignored him momentarily, and hurried to the medical supply closet. He headed straight for the prepacked case labeled with the General’s name and ripped it from the shelf. 

“If you call saving the General’s arse again useful, then yes.” Skull shot Oxy a pointed look and brought his comlink back towards his face as he pushed through the swinging doors of the medbay. 

“Commander, are you still on the line?” He asked as he walked briskly down the hallway in the direction of the barracks. 

“Yes. He’s not looking so good, Skull…” Cody’s voice leaked with panic; Skull could almost hear the Commander’s voice trembling. 

“Commander– I need you to focus for a moment. Where are you located?” Skull figured the General’s quarters was a likely answer.

“My quarters. 2224-01D.” Cody answered after a pause. “Please hurry.” 

“Give me one minute.” Skull stopped walking and began to run, barely caring about the write-up he would likely get if anyone in authority saw him. It hardly mattered when the General’s life was on the line. 

Skull steered himself towards the ranking clone barracks just next to those of the Jedi. For a moment, his focus faltered as he considered what Cody had told him. What were they doing together in Cody’s quarters, of all places, at 0100 in the morning? Skull could hardly believe that a General, much less a Jedi, would agree to meet in the quarters of their subordinate . It surely did explain why the General inadvertently had lost access to his adrenaline shots.

Skull shook the thoughts from his head and prepared himself for quick thinking as he approached Cody’s quarters. 

01B, 02A, 01C….

01D. 

He didn’t bother to knock, instead placing his fingertip on the pad just outside the door to force his own entry.

The door slid away to reveal an empty room save for a small chair in the corner holding some beige clothes and a set of glasses. Skull stepped inside, momentarily confused before he heard a soft voice emerge from the left. 

“Keep breathing, please . Skull will be here any second. You will be fine, everything will be fine.”

Skull swiveled to find Cody sitting in just his briefs by Obi-Wan’s side. His face, usually perfectly shaved, was covered in a layer of stubble. He had an iron grip on Obi-Wan’s arm and panic laced his voice as he spoke softly. 

Obi-Wan sat propped against the edge of Cody’s bunk, shirtless , with one hand curled over his neck and another on his chest. A loose pair of linen pants protected his legs from the metal floor and he heaved in wheezing breaths. “Don’t–” He sucked in another breath and abandoned whatever he was going to say as Skull approached and dropped his bag heavily onto the floor beside the pair. 

“I’m here.” Skull said, mildly breathless himself, still struggling to figure out what in the absolute fuck was going on. He pulled open the medical case and plucked out one of the several adrenaline shots along with an alcohol pad. “General, you know the drill, keep those breaths even.” Skull kept his tone low and schooled his face into an unpanicked look. He hoped it was reassuring, especially given the wild look in the General’s wide eyes.

It had been a long time since the General had experienced anaphylaxis, and even longer since he had gone such a long period of time without his shot made available. Even out in the field it was rare for a reaction to be left untreated. 

Skull made quick work of flicking the outside of the syringe. “Commander, pull down his pants.” Cody looked at him, mouth ajar, before Skull swore under his breath and pulled at the elastic band of the General’s pants himself. 

He wiped the alcohol pad across his thigh before warning the General, “Alright, here we go.” Obi-Wan nodded urgently in response as he wheezed even louder. 

Without hesitation, Skull stabbed the syringe into his thigh. Obi-Wan didn’t make a sound for a second, his breath still caught in his throat. Skull held his own breath and counted to ten, hoping to see Obi-Wan’s purpling cheeks turn into a less alarming shade of red. 

“Deep breaths, General.” He reminded the General as he pulled Obi-Wan’s hand away from where it rested across his neck. Obi-Wan’s eyes remained wide, but he sucked in a deep breath that sounded marginally better than before. “That’s it, keep going.”

Skull watched him breath for a minute until, though he was still mildly wheezing, it looked like he was able to bring in a breath with little resistance. 

Kriffing close call, that was. 

Skull briefly looked over at Cody as he collected the sterilization wrapper from the shot. Cody’s lips were pulled into a hard line, like usual, but something in his eyes made him seem far less calm than he appeared. 

If Skull didn’t know any better, he might have thought the Commander looked… teary .

“I’m afraid–” Skull averted his eyes when Obi-Wan spoke up hoarsely, his gaze on  Cody’s form, “I’m not feeling…” He took a moment to suck in a breath and seemed to be shifting around like he wanted to stand up. Skull pressed him back against the side of the bunk gently.

“Please, stay sitting General!”

Obi-Wan fought against his hold weakly, “Not feeling so good, Cody–”

Cody’s eyes flew open wide and he rushed to the corner of the room where he emptied a waste basket. Moments later, he deposited it in Obi-Wan’s arms just in time. Cody looked away as Obi-Wan heaved into the can, a small amount of liquidy brown bile coming out before he set it aside. 

“Well… that was pleasant.” Obi-Wan murmured after he paused to suck in another deep breath. Skull noted that the exposed skin of his chest and face had mostly returned to its normal color, outside of the vague redness of his cheeks and little mark on his neck…

Skull almost let his eyes widen, but looked away before he had a chance to let his thoughts get the best of him.

Medical help now, questions about the severe lack of clothing in this force-forsaken room later. 

“Not really a great time for jokes, Sir.” Skull said instead, clearing his throat.

“Agreed.” Cody said firmly and stood in his place. He assumed his resting position, arms crossed over his chest and back held straight and tall. Yet, he hardly looked as menacing and serious as usual in just a pair of tight, black, underwear. “You can breath now?” The Commander asked Obi-Wan, the fright in his eyes fading just slightly as Obi-Wan offered him a hint of a smile and breathed in deeply once or twice.

“Yes, it works like a charm.” Obi-Wan said while pointing to the emptied syringe and offering Cody a strangely familiar smile. “Thank you Skull– I shouldn’t have left my quarters without my med pack. I extend my deepest gratitude to you for coming in such a hurry.” Skull was also offered a warm smile as he extended a hand to Obi-Wan and helped him onto the bunk where he could sit more comfortably.

“Not a problem, General. It’s my job.” He said the words teasingly. “And because it’s my job, I need to know what exactly happened here?” 

There was a long, awkward pause as Cody looked nervously in Obi-Wan’s direction. Suddenly, the Commander seemed much more aware of the fact he was stripped down to his underwear, eyes blowing wide before he cleared his throat and reached for the set of blacks neatly folded on top of the dresser next to his bunk. “It was my fault. I bought some biscuits from the lower levels of Coruscant last time I was there. I thought I read the ingredients list, but I guess I must have missed something.”

Cody reached for the package – one biscuit missing – and handed it sheepishly to Skull. 

While he tried to look over the ingredients list for a moment, Skull could hardly keep a straight face considering the idea that the Commander and General were sharing a package of fancy Coruscantian biscuits together, at 0100 in the morning, while half-naked in Cody’s quarters. 

Things were starting to appear very obvious, and Cody seemed to realize Skull knew something was amiss.

“I’ll analyze these in my lab, see if maybe the ingredients list was missing something. No sense in wasting your time any further boys, it looks like you were enjoying your night.” Skull offered up a smile and crouched down to pull out an extra bottle of Obi-Wan’s emergency medication, and a few adrenaline shots. 

General Kenobi’s face was colored a dark red as Skull sat down next to Obi-Wan and placed the next adrenaline shot in his hand. “Alright General, I know it’s been a while, but remember to repeat this shot in twenty minutes. If the symptoms don’t go away after three more, send me a com and we’ll get you set up in the medbay for observation.” 

“Thank you, Skull. I will remember of course.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath and looked away before any prolonged eye-contact could happen. Skull nearly snorted.

“Would you like me to teach Cody how to do it?” He asked, glancing over at the Commander just as he was readjusting the shirt of his blacks. 

“Oh!” Obi-Wan explained, “That certainly won’t be necessary–”

“Well I’m sure you can teach him yourself anyway, General. I am leaving two of these here… just in case.” Skull stood from the bed and forced himself to hold back the urge to wink in the Commander’s direction. 

“That is ah– appreciated Skull,” Obi-Wan said, a half-hearted smile gracing his lips as he shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed. 

Skull nodded and collected the remaining contents of Obi-Wan’s medkit before heading towards the door.

“Listen–” Cody started, likely seeing the hint of an amused smile on Skull’s lips, “It’s not what you are thinking.”

“I’m sure it’s not, Commander.” Skull tapped at Obi-Wan’s medical case with a few of his fingers and pressed the button to open the door. “It looks like you and the General were having quite the late night tactical planning session, complete with fancy biscuits and a lack of clothes .”

Cody looked vaguely exasperated before schooling his expression. “Don’t tell anyone.” He whispered, seriousness enveloping his form as he took a step closer to Skull. “We can discuss.. later.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it Commander. All I ask is in the future, you reference his list more carefully before feeding him anything. I’d really rather not interrupt your… intimacy, again.” Cody let out a sigh, “And please, keep a few shots here.”

With that, Skull nodded his goodbye to the blushing Commander, and shuffled into the hallway where he finally allowed himself a low chuckle.

There would be lots to discuss at Obi-Wan’s next medbay visit, that was certain. 

But for now, Oxy and Skull would be having a rather entertaining night shift.

[to-proudly-go]

Anakin lived so deep in your heart that having to rip him out did more than break it—it was torn out with him, stubborn heartstrings hanging on tight and refusing to let go.

[ddeck]

could you do some jangobi sketches :0

can't see why not

[tennessoui]

For the prompt list, nanny/single parent obikin would be amazing!!

(from this prompt list)

(the first time I answered this prompt two years ago, the nanny anakin au was born)

so to do something different, here's some gffa widowed anakin, nanny (sort of) obi-wan!

(2.5k)

It is hard to find time to grieve. There are too many things to do. Too many appointments to make, too many decisions Anakin isn’t sure he’s qualified for. Some decisions are easier than others. For example, the funeral will be on Naboo. There will be two services: a public one to honor Padmé’s public service, and a private one to honor who she was as a person. The casket will be closed, because his wife died when her cruiser exploded. There isn’t much left to bury anyway.

But some decisions are harder. Which flowers should go on her casket. What songs would she want sung and who should sing them? Would she prefer her grave closer to her ancestral home or the home she created in her adulthood?

If she told anyone the answers to these questions, it wasn’t Anakin. But then, the people who knew her best, who loved her most, died with her. Sabé, Rabé, Saché, Yané, all of her handmaidens—an assassination such broad strokes that it was impossible for it to fail.

So Anakin chooses Yali lilies, because Leia’s eyes linger on them the longest. He chooses a small Nabooian folk band to play after her service because their music is the first thing to make Luke lift his head from his coloring books in days. He formally requests that her body be buried among her ancestors, and the Nabierres agree immediately.

And he keeps telling himself that he will grieve, but there is so much to do. 

And then—then there’s after the funeral. Then there’s the rest of his life, sprawling out before him in a long, hazy road. 

There are more decisions to be made.

There are people who have opinions on them now, people who sat back and let Anakin muddle through flower arrangements and kriffing seating charts, who now step in to peer over his shoulder, monitor his every breath.

Should he really move the children back to Coruscant? Does he truly plan to continue to work as a mechanic in the Mid-Levels? Should he not think of the children, their needs? How can he support them on the thin amount of credits he makes? Would it not be better for the children to live on Naboo in the care of their grandparents and their extended family?

It would be what Padmé would have wanted.

Anakin cannot care about what Padmé would have wanted, because she isn’t here. Not to argue with him, not to make her wants known. She is dead. She doesn’t get to haunt him in the waking world too.

“What do you want?” he asks plainly, sitting down across the table from his two children. The twins blink back at him. Leia has finished her cereal. Luke has barely touched his.

“Bacon,” Luke says.

Anakin hadn’t meant for breakfast, but he figures it’s as good of a start as any. “Alright,” he agrees.

He stands once more and goes to the kitchen. It’s not exactly his domain. It was never Padmé’s either. The way Padmé grew up, food was made once you requested it—by droid, by cooking staff. Not by the hand of a Nabierre.

The way Anakin grew up, food was cobbled together carefully, sparingly no matter how much you requested it. And no matter how you cooked it, it always tasted a little like dust, which took the joy out of experimentation.

But the serving staff have been dismissed for the past two weeks to give the family time and space to grieve in private. 

(Padmé’s parents have been given a schedule for visiting hours for that exact reason.)

Anakin locates the pan; then, he locates the package of bacon strips.

When he glances up, both twins are watching him over the edge of their barstools, tiny faces showing both skepticism and incredulity.

“I want to know what you want to do,” Anakin says, raising his voice as he places the pot over the heating plate, the meat in a moment later. “Do you want to stay here with your grandmother and grandfather? Do you want to go back to Coruscant?”

The twins are quiet. Anakin twists his neck to look at them again, and they’re looking at each other, silently communicating the way only twins can.

“Where will you be?” Leia finally asks, looking at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, bottom lip already jutting out.

Anakin blinks. “Wherever you are,” he answers.

“You won’t leave too?” Luke asks rather tremulously.

Anakin takes the pan off the heated plate and turns it off with a decisive flick of his wrist. “Of course not,” he says. “Come here.” He crouches down and barely has enough time to open his arms before the twins are there, pressing in as close as they can get to him. He holds them back just as tightly in return.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises into Leia’s hair. “Not without you two.”

—-----------------

It becomes apparent fairly quickly that this is, by necessity, a lie.

The twins don’t want to stay on Naboo, which Anakin is secretly incredibly grateful for. He doesn’t want to either, but he knows he’d just be called selfish should he express the opinion.

But the twins don’t want to go back to Coruscant either. This makes sense as well. It would be incredibly jarring for them to go back to living in the quarters they shared with their mother, her Upper Coruscanti apartments in the nicest district of the planet, without her there.

Anakin wishes it were as simple as sticking a pin on a planet and deciding to uproot the entirety of his family to live there. 

But it’s not.

Perhaps if he were still young, nineteen, newly free and in love with the taste of that freedom, it would be.

But he’s a widower now. He has his children to think about, their futures. Any planet he chooses must have what they need as well. 

And they are four year olds who have just lost their mother. Their needs are numerous.

What makes the decision for him in the end is that his boss knows a man from Stewjon, who is willing to hire him. Who is willing to pay a premium for his expertise with mechanics.

Anakin doesn’t know the first thing about Stewjon, other than that it’s an ocean planet in the Inner Core and his dead wife always said the Senators from Stewjon were so frigid and tight-lipped because they spent the first few days of each visit trying not to be seasick on the Senate floor.

Anakin isn’t sure why this is the very first thing he tells the man—his potential boss—he meets behind the counter in the mech-shop on Stewjon.

He’s left the children with their grandparents for the week—long enough to fly from Naboo to Stewjon, meet with his potential employer, interview, apply his work practically, and fly back out.

He’d explained to both twins why they had to stay on Naboo. He’d explained many times. That hadn’t changed the betrayed look Leia had worn as she saw him off. It hadn’t wiped the tears from Luke’s eyes.

“Ah, well, I can’t say I’ve heard that one before,” the mechanic says. He sounds amused, and Anakin is incredibly shocked to hear a Coruscanti accent. Everyone he’s spoken to since arriving planetside has had such a heavy brogue that he’d honestly struggled to understand their directions to the shop—Kenobi & Sons.

Anakin lets himself look again at the man behind the counter. He’s rather clean for a mechanic, he decides. His beard is red, a common factor around these parts apparently, but his beard is short and neat, trimmed to accentuate the strong lines of his jaw. His eyes are a stormy blue, the kind of blue that matches the Stewjoni ocean.

“Between you and me though,” the man smirks and leans onto the counter with his elbow. His tunic is dark gray, white starchy fabric peeking out beneath the v-necked collar. “I’ve never been a fan of Stewjoni politicians anyway.”

“Oh?” Anakin asks, sidling a step closer to the counter. The man has the beginnings of gray at his temples, and his eyes are lined with wrinkles. They don’t make him look old though, Anakin decides. They make him look…well-lived.

“I’ve not a head for politics much at all,” his future employer shakes his head slightly with a small smile. His eyes flick up and down Anakin’s face, lingering on his lips and then lingering longer on the scar over his brow. Anakin feels rather flushed under the inspection, and he shifts his weight forward until he’s leaning up against the counter too.

There’s something about this man that’s rather…magnetic. It pulls him in. It makes him want to linger.

Good characteristic for a shopkeeper to have, though Anakin privately decides that the man before him has a face that’s wasted on mechanics, buried under some ship’s underbelly in a backroom.

“Me neither,” he admits, a moment too late to sound anything but highly distracted. It makes the man smile again though, a flash of straight white teeth.

“Is there anything you do have a head for then?” he asks. His tone is light, airy, rather teasing.

This is the strangest interview Anakin has ever had.

“Um,” he says. “Well. There’s mechanics.”

“Oh?” The man’s eyebrow lifts at an elegant angle. He props his chin on the palm of his hand and looks up at Anakin through his eyelashes. “Then why come here to us then?”

“Um,” Anakin says, and not because the man looks rather unfairly flattering like this, amber eyelashes in sharp relief against the blue of his eyes.

They’re interrupted by the sounds of clattering in the backroom, stomping and cursing. The man before him straightens with a slight sigh and picks up the closest flimsipad. “And what brings you in here today, sir?” he asks rather loudly, pitching his voice back to the other room of the shop pointedly. “Problem with your speeder? Serving droid? Cruiser? If it’s your astromech droid, I regret to inform you that I’ll have to refuse you service on account of the fact that I don’t particularly care for them.”

Anakin thinks he splutters, but whatever noise he makes is definitely drowned out by the rather irritated shout of Obi-Wan! that comes from the back.

A moment later, a man storms through the door, looking annoyed. "We will service an astomech if that's what's broken, Obi-Wan."

Now this is a man that Anakin can believe is a mechanic. His nails are blackened with oil, and his bare, burly arms carry smudges of the stuff. He’s much broader than the man—Obi-Wan—that Anakin had been talking to. He’s bald with a reddened scalp and a rather large red beard that’s the antithesis of the other man’s in every way. His clothes are dirty, loose, and the color of ash. He looks older too—whereas Obi-Wan could easily be in his thirties, this man must be pushing fifty.

He snaps at Obi-Wan in a language that Anakin doesn’t understand. Obi-Wan shrugs and hands over the flimsi pad without argument.

“Um, actually,” Anakin says, feeling incredibly wrong-footed. “Which one of you is Kenobi?”

“I am,” both of them say. Obi-Wan’s smirking slightly. The other man’s voice is louder, carrying that Stewjoni accent so obviously lacking in Obi-Wan’s speech.

The older man closes his eyes as if he’s praying for patience. “We both are,” he says. “Though if your ship’s malfunctioned, sir, I’m the Kenobi you want to see. This one’s good for naught but magic tricks.”

“I have been told I’m rather good at other things,” Obi-Wan turns his smirk full-force at Anakin, dropping his eyes to Anakin’s lips once more.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” he says very quickly in a very normal tone of voice that is most definitely not a squeak. “I’m here to interview for a position. As another mechanic.”

“Oh,” the older Kenobi says.

“Oh,” the younger Kenobi says in a much different tone.

The older Kenobi pinches at his nose for a moment before turning around the counter and offering his hand. “Ben,” he says. “Ben Kenobi.”

Anakin takes his hand and shakes it, eyes traveling back to Obi-Wan. Is he supposed to shake his hand too?

“I’m the Son in the sign,” Ben says gruffly as if that answers his question.

“I’m the reason it’s plural,” Obi-Wan adds, busying himself with the contents of the counter. From what Anakin can tell, the man is just messing up the carefully organized piles of receipts. 

He decides that he would rather not get the job than point this out to Ben.

Ben huffs out something in Stewjoni that sounds downright insulting, but that doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from smiling sunnily up at Anakin. “My brother enjoys bitching and moaning that I came back home when I was seventeen, but he’s awfully quick to foist his children off on me when he’s called to shift at the rig offshore and Marci’s off-planet too.”

Anakin blinks. He feels like that’s the safest answer.

“Only thing good that blasted Jedi Order ever taught you was how to handle younglings,” Ben says, and then spits on the ground as if the words themselves have left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anakin blinks and wonders if he should say something to remind the brothers that he’s here. For an interview. “And my magic tricks,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes slightly before catching Anakin’s eye and winking. With a wave of his hand, a flimsi-sheet flies over the counter and into Anakin’s chest. He catches it unthinkingly. “Would you like to sign in, sir?” “Get out of here,” Ben barks, snatching the flimsi from Anakin’s hand and pushing it back to the counter. “Like I said, the only one’s impressed with that is the younglings.”

“I don’t know, your man looks impressed,” Obi-Wan says slyly, even as he pushes himself away from the counter and around the edge of it.

Anakin isn’t sure what he looks like. He doesn’t think impressed is the word he’d use though.

When Obi-Wan brushes past him, the static electricity in the air jumps between their shoulders. Anakin feels as if he’s been shocked.

Obi-Wan must feel it too because he stops only a few inches away and looks at Anakin. For the first time, his expression is open. Curious. Considering.

“Get!” His brother insists, and Obi-Wan obeys, throwing one last look over his shoulder at Anakin before he slips out the door.

The shop feels somehow much bigger now that the other man has left. Ben sighs and rubs a hand down his face. He looks older now. More worn. “So that was my brother,” he tells Anakin wearily. “Who you would most likely see frequently if you were to take this job. I would understand completely if you would like to start by talking compensation.”

[agingerpanda]

Kidnapped.

Full post on Instagram

[deserthusbands]

cody: did it hurt when you fell-

obi-wan: from heaven? cody, dear, i didn’t think you were such a flirt-

cody: no.. i meant when you fell down the stairs.

obi-wan: ...

cody: you just laid there for 15 minutes.