“Set a man to watch all night…”
Hummed, muffled words echoed through the Negotiator’s halls, around corners, behind doors. Every clone, every natborn was on edge, hunted look around their eyes and shoulders. The lights seemed to flicker childhood-bright but to the instruments everything was as it should be.
The campaign had ended so abruptly. A shadow falling over the battlefield like a sun eclipse, Cody’s General… dissolved. For no reason he could discern. Just the perception of Obi-Wan suddenly wavering, literally going up in smoke, and rushing to the sentient enemy commander with a rolling mass of dead groans and screams.
White as a sheet, cowering behind a tank where the smoke left them, the enemy General had begged Cody to accept their capitulation.
Obi-Wan had gone back to his duties, face placid and unassuming. Like nothing of notice had even happened. Cody shivered.
It was the silenced air that had goosebumps break out on Cody’s arms. A forced absence of sounds concentrated in Obi-Wan’s quarters. It let Cody hear the things it wanted him aware of only. Suggestions to his senses he should heed. The steady drip of thick liquid. The blue night-sky-glowing where Obi-Wan’s eyes were supposed to be calm, stormy in color. Not…this.
“General?” Cody asked quietly, eyes adjusting to the dark room. “Obi-Wan? Are you alright?”
“I’ve never felt better, my dear.”
“Are you—“ The lights turned on with a too-loud click and buzz, too bright and Kamino-white. Cody squeezed his eyes shut just to escape.
After a moment he opened them again, blinked against the information his head was picking up automatically. Suppressed the swallow at seeing dark things drip from Obi-Wan’s fingers, onto the table, the floor, his lips. “Are you sure?” Because this seemed anything but okay.
“I am what I’m supposed to be,” Obi-Wan said, almost singing the words, voice melodious and a terror pin pricking Cody’s neck.
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shaking at 5am, spent the past two days getting back into obikin, reading a 50k fic, drawing for 12 hours, talking to any soul that would listen— and now writing this snip of hurt/comfort— ObiKin 506w 😭😭😭
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Obi-Wan is used to Anakin asking for more than a Padawan should, more than a Jedi-Knight, more than a Jedi should, period.
There would be times Anakin pushes the boundaries between them, providing the most bizarre excuses for his inappropriate behaviour, excuses to which Obi-Wan has a hard time not replying with 'Really Anakin, this?' excuses Obi-Wan still accepts, accepts and pretends to understand. Excuses he needs to preserve his own integrity as a Jedi while still giving Anakin what he wants, what he needs.
Sometimes, Anakin says nothing.
Sometimes there's no clever excuses or witty jokes. Sometimes, Anakin is silent, sometimes, Anakin just takes what he wants, what he needs.
Obi-Wan always gives, never rejects Anakin when he truly needs it.
And tonight, weary from endless battles, with the blood of hundreds on his lightsaber, Anakin needs it.
So when Anakin crawls into Obi-Wan's bed, smelling of smoke and blood, unshowered and filthy- he says nothing.
Obi-Wan doesn't so much stir, allowing the boy-turned-man, wrap his strong arms around him, doesn't even flinch when Anakin squeezes so tight it's crossing the uncomfortable into the painful rather swiftly.
Obi-Wan allows it. Allows Anakin to bury his face in his nape, allows the ragged inhales, allows the seeking, desperate feeling of Anakin's force signature against his own— but when Anakin shakes with it, with the burden he carries, Obi-Wan cannot pretend to miss it.
"Oh, dear one" he says, voice quiet, saddened. He shifts, and Anakin freezes, his hold loosening immediately. Anakin couldn't have missed that he was awake, of course he didn't. He simply didn't expect Obi-Wan to acknowdlge what he was doing, didn't expect him to...
"Come here," Obi-Wan says, turning fully, facing Anakin in the darkness of the room, lifting an arm and creating a space for Anakin to get into. If he chooses to, that is.
Anakin doesn't even pretend to consider it. He launches forward like a starved thing, desperate for warmth and acceptance, needing it in ways that are being his ability to hide, to mask.
"Master—" the sound of his voice is torn, borderline inhuman. "Master..." he chokes, more quietly, more ragged.
Anakin's shoulders shake with it, and if Obi-Wan feels wetness at his neck, he would never speak of it to a living soul.
"I know" Obi-Wan whispers, wrapping his arm securely about his once-Padawan, pulling him flat against himself, his free hand at the back of his head. "I know." he repeats, soothing him, stroking at his hair with patience, with care.
"I'm here." He breathes out, eyes closed.
This war is rough on this one. Regardless of his natural talent and skill, despite his bravado and cockiness. It's rough on him.
On all of them.
"Sleep, Anakin." he murmurs once the shaking finally subsides "It's okay you sleep" he speaks on, knowing Anakin hardly pays attention to the words anymore, only the tone matters. "Sleep, dear one" he says into his hair, smelling the death in it and inhaling anyways.
Anakin sleeps, despite it all, he does.
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