Oh man, author's notes. I will try to be somewhat brief.
Basically, this is a "Star Wars", 'The Clone Wars'-era "crack" 'fic, loosely based off of the movie, "What Happens in Vegas". Feel free to hate on the film long and hard; it kind of deserves it. As a bit of an homage, chapter titles have been culled from Irene Cara's song, 'What a Feeling', from the movie "Flashdance", which features prominently in "Vegas". We are not Ashton Kutcher, nor are we George Lucas or Dave Filoni, etc., etc. By "we", I am referring to myself and patientalien, aka Diena Taylor, aka "D", my exceedingly patient wife and co-writer throughout this 6-8-month endeavor. Please see my profile for notes on this story's update process.
Summary: Summary: A run-of-the-mill weekend excursion on the pleasure planet of Corellia results in consequences far more dire than Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Ahsoka Tano anticipate when Obi-Wan ends up married to Asajj Ventress. Chapter One: Corellia offers many enticements, and many dangers. Rated PG-13.
What Happens on Corellia
Chapter One: When There's Nothing
Looking back, Obi-Wan knew that he could lay the blame solely on Anakin. After all, Corellia had been his idea to begin with.
"It's right between us and Coruscant," his former Padawan pointed out, gesturing to the chart hovering above their heads. "We'd have enough time to unwind and refuel." He glanced down at his own apprentice, Ahsoka, waiting for her to back him up.
"Well," the girl said, somewhat hesitantly, "there are supposed to be some really interesting cultural sights..." She bit her lip absently, and Obi-Wan couldn't help thinking that this last mission must have made her realize that Anakin was probably not her best bet for living through the war. He liked Ahsoka, though - she made him tea and actually listened when he spoke, and seemed to be very dedicated to becoming a Jedi. He simply hoped Anakin didn't do anything to get her killed.
Anakin gave Ahsoka a funny look. "Cultural ... oh, like museums." He shuddered a little at the last word, as if it brought to mind something incredibly unsavory (which, of course, it probably did). "No, Snips, I was thinking of something a little more fun."
Ahsoka's face fell. "Your idea of fun and mine are two very different things sometimes, Master," she said warily. She waited for Master Kenobi, usually the voice of reason where Anakin was concerned, to agree with her, but he was strangely quiet. She sensed it was out of guilt. She was feeling perturbed enough to say something about it, but Anakin's gloved, robotic hand clamped suddenly down upon her shoulder, heavier than she'd have expected it to be.
"It's settled then," Anakin said with finality, and Ahsoka squirmed a little until he let her go. "We go to Corellia, juice up the ship, make a few repairs, and take the rest of the night off to lay low and relax. We've been going non-stop lately," he rationalized. "We deserve it." He began to plug the coordinates for Corellia into the ship's computer, and Ahsoka sighed. She had a bad feeling about this.
Ahsoka's bad feeling only intensified when she realized their first stop was going to be a cantina, and that Master Kenobi seemed to be perfectly happy to follow Anakin up to the bar. Ahsoka trailed nervously, unsure she was even allowed in such an establishment. Her Master turned, a thoughtful look on his face (for once). "Uh, Snips," he said, digging around in his pocket and pulling out the keycard to the speeder they'd rented. "Why don't you go wait in the speeder."
Ahsoka couldn't help letting her mouth drop open in shock. "Wait, what?" she replied, probably with not enough due respect for her Master, but she didn't really care. Was he really telling her to wait outside for however long he and Obi-Wan were going to be?
Anakin seemed to be struggling not to roll his eyes, and kept backing towards the bar as he spoke to her. "This isn't a place for younglings," he said firmly, and Ahsoka felt a very-un-Jedi-like burst of anger flare up.
"So why are we here?" she demanded. "Why not do something we can ALL participate in?" She knew she was treading on thin ice - her Master's temper something barely held in check at the best of times - but it just didn't seem fair!
"Go see those cultural sights you want to see so badly," Anakin suggested with an annoyed sigh. "I'll comm you when we're done."
"But I don't even know how to pilot that speeder!" she exclaimed, although she knew she could probably figure it out without too much trouble. It was the principle of the thing, after all.
And besides, her Master could pilot it. Enough said, really. Ahsoka considered taking a page out of Anakin's book and spending the evening gallivanting around Corellia on her own agenda. She considered just taking the speeder and leaving the pleasure planet all together, letting her Master fend for himself - it'd serve him right, anyways.
In the end, Ahsoka pocketed the keycard, double-checked that her Master had remembered to turn the speeder's headlights off - he had, for once - and set off on foot in the opposite direction of Corellia's increasingly raucous night life. If the Force was willing, maybe she could still find a bookstore open at this hour.
The dark-cloaked figure fingered the vial and gave the scientist a chilly glare. "And you're sure this will work?" she asked, contempt dripping off every word. Asajj Ventress wasn't impressed with this latest plan of her Master's. Though she was not going to argue with him outright, she could give his scientist woman a hard time. In fact, she quite enjoyed doing so.
Jenna Zan Arbor rolled her eyes and ran a hand over her perfectly-coiffed hair. "Of course it will," she sneered. "What do you think I am, new? I've been messing with Jedi since before you were born."
Ventress couldn't help noticing that Zan Arbor likely HAD, given the crow's feet around her eyes and gray peeking through her dyed hair. "If it doesn't work, I will have your head," she promised with a cold glower. Zan Arbor didn't even flinch. That bugged Ventress.
But then, everything did. Life was cruel, and the people she interacted with meaningless and painfully mortal, no matter their rank or importance. Ventress' own reputation preceded her; her praises had been sung on her bloody home planet, which had in turn led to her alliance with Count Dooku and the Separatists.
Having made a trade out of being an assassin, Ventress had heard many a false claim, listened to tireless pleas for lives much more useless and frivolous than the ones she'd had taken from her. Mortals were weak, and Ventress hated weakness. Even Zan Arbor, her face carefully preserved, her body small but firm, gave off tell-tale signs of her mortality: her eyes were cold, yet wary with experience, and she seemed unable to keep completely still, her fingers constantly curling and uncurling, the heel of her expensive shoes tapping - Ventress was a warrior, not an aristocrat, but she knew wealth when she saw it.
The container was slender and cool to the touch. Ventress slid it into a tight pocket on her utility belt and watched Zan Arbor's retreating back. Annoying contacts or not, she did have a mission to complete.
She wasn't entirely sure what Count Dooku was hoping to accomplish by this, but she couldn't help feeling a morbid curiosity. Zan Arbor had promised wonders and though Ventress didn't know how the effects of the substance would help their cause, she had to admit a certain desire to see Kenobi and Skywalker completely humiliate themselves.
Then again, maybe that was the entire point. Dooku rarely clued her in to the intricacies of his plans, but she knew if she was patient, the answers would come, and with them her ascension to the Sith throne.
They were close, she could feel it. It wasn't the first time she'd been sent to wreak havoc for the Dream Team, and she vaguely resented her talents being wasted on tracking exercises that could have been handled by a droid, but her Master had been insistent. Of all the ways the Republic could be devastated, loss of morale was sneaky subterfuge. Kenobi and Skywalker didn't control shipping routes, and neither of them was going to negotiate any foreseeable peace between their side and the Separatists, but their antics put a face to the war, made people feel as if what they were enduring had a greater purpose.
Also, for whatever reason, Dooku's Master had a particular hard-on for Skywalker. She didn't see the fascination; the kid was fucked up, and even a youngling could have sensed his potential power in the Force, but mental instability and a little raw energy did not a Sith make. Their kind - her kind - were cunning, fierce, dedicated to the Dark Arts, and willing to sacrifice, to give themselves over to-
A sudden flash of familiarity washed over Ventress, bringing her back into the present. Not Skywalker or that damnable Kenobi, to be sure, but ... something. Moving languidly along the wall of the alleyway, she peered out into the drifting night time crowds of downtown Corellia, in-tuned to Force signatures and anything else that might be remotely extraordinary.
Ventress' skin prickled as her focus swept across a non-descript patch of night life. It - something, someone - was there, right - there! She zeroed in on the cause of the disturbance, a slight Togruta girl. Her own demeanor was nervous, her hackles raised, and at once, Ventress knew she was onto something.
The Force hummed around the child, and she remembered - the Togruta she'd fought, however briefly, on Teth. Of course - Skywalker's new Padawan. Though she seriously questioned the wisdom of the decision to give a loose cannon like Skywalker an apprentice, she had to admit, it was a gift from the Force. If the Togruta was here, that meant Skywalker wasn't far off. Which meant Kenobi was lurking around somewhere as well. Ventress couldn't have hoped for a better outcome.
She brushed her fingers against the pouch containing the vial and allowed herself a small smile. She would have her revenge, and soon.
Ahsoka felt the disturbance in the Force through her head-tails before it registered with the rest of her body. She tensed, but kept walking, not wanting to call attention to herself, not wanting to react before she had a better idea of what she was dealing with. It was uncomfortable, that feeling of being watched - of being *stalked*. Ahsoka struggled to keep from touching her lightsaber and thought about her options.
It could be nothing, she told herself. A fluke, the feeling of nervousness that came from being alone on an unfamiliar planet. But she wasn't alone - her Master was around somewhere, and she rarely felt fear when she was by herself in a city. She could, after all, take care of herself. But something cold and dark was behind her, and she wasn't sure it was something she wanted to face all by herself, not when it was her Master's job to protect her.
Darting into an alleyway, she took a moment to find her center. It was simple, really. Retrace her steps and find Anakin and Obi-Wan, tell them she was being followed. Let the Masters take care of things, she told herself. Don't make a stupid Padawan mistake and get yourself hurt. Even if her Master laughed at her for being scared, it was better than the alternative.
Ahsoka squared her shoulders and continued walking at a brisk pace. The keycard for the rented speeder jangled in her pocket, the noise making her even jumpier. She tried to appear calm, like she was loping along with the rest of the patrons, looking for a good time. She could feel something leering at her in the Force, drawing her out, smug and satisfied that it was keying her up so badly.
She rounded the last block for the small tavern that her Master had disappeared into last. Hoping he'd stayed put, she slipped inside with a couple of other patrons, willing herself to become absorbed into the background. She looked even younger than she was, she knew. She didn't want to cause a scene.
Ahsoka breathed an audible sigh of relief when she spotted Anakin, leaning casually against the main bar and straddling a backless stool as he chatted up Obi-Wan. Ahsoka couldn't help but notice the number of lingering stares the pair was getting - there would be no chance of undercover work when headlines boasting the achievements of 'Team Kenobi-Skywalker' kept the Holonet buzzing. Also, Ahsoka thought with a small grin, her Master was pretty, and Master Kenobi wasn't exactly a gundark.
A gruff hand on her shoulder made her flail a little. "What do we have here, eh?" a Toydarian smirked, his wings beating steadily. Something about his smarmy demeanor and the fact that she was already being followed made Ahsoka more uneasy than she'd normally be. She tried to duck underneath his grip, but the blue-ish creature was stronger than he looked. "Relax, little one, I not going to hurt you, eh. You're a pretty one, you know, yes?"
"Um," Ahsoka grimaced, wondering how much being inconspicuous was worth if it was going to get her abducted, or worse. "That, that's very, uh, nice of you, but-"
"But she's not interested, so why don't you buzz off." Her Master's voice was surprisingly clear, considering he'd probably put a considerable amount of alcohol away at this juncture, and Ahsoka had never been gladder to hear it.
"Ah, she's yours," the Toydarian said as he turned, hand still on Ahsoka's shoulder, and Ahsoka bit back a grin as her Master casually moved his cloak aside to reveal his lightsaber. He could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, tall and broad-shouldered as he was. She liked seeing him do things like this - he was always so blasé about it, but there was an intensity in his eyes now that Ahsoka wasn't sure the source of. It was the same kind of dark shadow that had crossed his features on Tatooine, and it thrilled and frightened her.
"She's not. Interested," Anakin repeated firmly, resting his gloved hand on the hilt of his lightsaber. "Find someone else." The Toydarian seemed to realize that Anakin was capable of chopping his wings off where he hovered, and released his grip on Ahsoka, muttering an apology and fluttering away. Anakin turned his attention to Ahsoka, a bemused expression replacing the intense one. "So, Snips," he said, "your cultural sights get boring or what?"
Ahsoka felt a burst of annoyance, but then remembered the reason she'd come back. "Master, there's something out there," she said, trying not to sound like a scared youngling. "Something was following me."
Anakin barked out a laugh and gestured for her to follow him back to the bar. "Of course you were being followed," he replied, as if it should have been as clear as day to her. "That's why I said to wait *in the speeder*."
The young Togruta exhaled sharply. Of course he wasn't going to take her seriously. She wasn't sure why she'd expected he would. But she already felt safer within the confines of the tavern, being flanked by the two most famous Jedi in the Order. Surely she could stand some ribbing if it meant she didn't have to go back out there and face that cold sensation of Force-disturbance. "Well, it was a stupid suggestion, Master," she informed him, trying to force herself into calm. "Just like most of your suggestions."
Anakin glanced back at her sharply, but instead addressed his next words to Obi-Wan. "Let's go somewhere else. I don't want Ahsoka getting fondled by any more filthy Toydarians."
Obi-Wan's mouth quirked in the corners, as if his mind had half-formed a suitable joke to match Anakin's sentiment, but didn't want to risk ruining his buzz by thinking it through completely. He stroked his beard a couple of times at the abrupt change in Anakin's demeanor, then glanced down at Ahsoka. "What is the matter?" he asked her.
Ahsoka took a steadying breath. "I'm being followed," she said in a hushed tone, leaning into Obi-Wan, the smell of alcohol lingering, though not entirely unpleasant. "Just a few blocks away. I don't know who it is, or what, but ... it's Dark," she shivered.
Obi-Wan glanced back up at Anakin, who was tapping his foot impatiently. "It's Corellia," he said, rolling his eyes. "And you, Snips, are paranoid." He glanced around, and Ahsoka couldn't help thinking that SHE wasn't the paranoid one. "Let's just go."
Standing, Obi-Wan pulled on his cloak. "I suppose we could go elsewhere," he conceded. "And perhaps we'll be able to sense the disturbance Ahsoka is speaking of." He gave her a small smile, and Ahsoka bit back the urge to stick her tongue out at her own Master.
"Can't we just go back to the ship?" Ahsoka asked. She didn't want to be dragged to another crowded tavern to perhaps be groped by another being again. Besides, she was getting tired, and the thought of the dark energy outside made her more so.
Anakin let out a sharp breath. "Not a chance," he replied before Obi-Wan had an opportunity. "We earned this leave, and we're not going to go hide just because you have a bad feeling. Just stick with us, and you'll be safe." With that, he turned on his heel and strode towards the exit, Obi-Wan close behind. Annoyed at the implication that she was about to be left behind, yet privately secure in the knowledge that she was safe in Anakin's care, Ahsoka scurried after the pair, glaring at her Master for good measure as she rounded the rented speeder towards the passenger's side.
Anakin looked amused. "What do you think you're doing?"
Ahsoka stared at him. "What?" she asked crisply, in no mood for guessing games.
Anakin just snorted. "Let's review: We're on leave, Obi-Wan has already put away his weight in booze -" as if on cue, Obi-Wan burped, "- and I plan to catch up." He brushed past Ahsoka to hunker down in the seat she'd planned to occupy. "Guess who the designated driver is in this scenario."
Ahsoka sighed. Being Anakin Skywalker's Padawan really sucked, sometimes.
Tracking the girl had been ridiculously easy, Ventress mused as she watched Skywalker, Kenobi, and the Togruta climb into an ugly speeder outside a run-down tavern. She was not well-shielded, and she had been frightened.
Of course, she had to have been, to go running to her Master so easily. It didn't look like Skywalker and Kenobi were particularly on alert, though, and Ventress couldn't help think that the duo was going to make her job much easier than she'd initially expected.
It wasn't difficult to track the speeder through the crowded streets. The traffic was moving at barely a crawl through the throngs of pedestrians, and Ventress found she could be at a respectable distance without losing sight of her quarry. She sensed an overwhelming lack of urgency in both Kenobi and Skywalker, which made her think this was exactly the time to catch them both off-guard.
Skywalker's Padawan seemed to be in charge of navigation. Her driving was wobbly and clumsy, and Ventress itched to simply take them all out in one fell swoop. The part of her that enjoyed making the Jedi suffer warred with the much larger portion that just wanted it all over, enemies slain and revenge achieved. It was only the lure of Dooku's promises of power that stayed her hand.
The speeder eventually pulled into the parking structure of a nightclub, much larger and flashier than Kenobi and Skywalker's previous destination. Ventress watched as Anakin ambled around the vehicle, tussling the Togruta's head-tails. He was grinning, but she looked perturbed, while Kenobi looked as if a sudden breeze could blow him over. Ventress snorted to herself - there was nothing in the Jedi code against excessive consumption of alcohol, and it showed. Kenobi was such a kriffing lush.
She supposed she should thank him for making her mission that much easier, but she couldn't help rolling her eyes. THESE were the heroes of the Republic. How pathetic. If the public knew the truth... But then, she supposed, that was the whole point of her Master's plan.
The girl was protesting, an unhappy expression on her face, as Skywalker manhandled her towards the club's entrance. Ventress watched in bemused irritation as the young Jedi used a mind-trick to get them past the Gammorrean bouncer - how completely tacky. Of course, in order to keep them in her line of sight, she would have to do the same thing - but at least *she* was subtle about it.
The burly Gammorrean winked at her as she approached the entrance, putting a good five minutes between her own arrival and Kenobi and Skywalker's. "Nice hair," he leered, and Ventress fought the urge to bare her teeth. A couple of Force-enhanced suggestions later, and the bouncer had wandered off. Ventress scowled as she was elbowed by a couple of underage-looking patrons who were excited to take advantage of the new lack of security. She truly detested, well, everyone, really.
She kept her hood raised, borne more from not wanting to be immediately spotted than by either of her targets than anything else. Skulking towards the bar, Ventress chose a corner seat at an uninviting angle, hoping her fellow patrons would take the hint and leave her alone. The area was relatively crowded, but Kenobi was easy enough to spot, making small talk with the bartender, but otherwise keeping to himself.
Skywalker and the kid weren't immediately visible; Ventress reached out with the Force, however, and sensed them nearby. That was just fine with her - she could take them out together or separately. It didn't matter which, so long as she got them both.
Ahsoka watched, irritated as her Master made a nuisance of himself. Upon entering the nightclub - which she was certain she'd have been restricted from, had the bouncer not been so easily persuaded to let them in, for free, even, by Anakin - Obi-Wan had made a beeline for the bar, and Anakin had just grinned at her as she crossed her arms, pouting. "Why don'tcha take your cloak off and stay a while, Snips," he'd suggested, and then laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the galaxy.
Now he was in the middle of the dance floor, writhing sinuously with creatures of both genders in vague time to the ear-splitting music permeating the very walls of the room. Ahsoka sighed. She couldn't pick up clearly on any Dark forces with all the noise and activity anymore, but it was still out there, she was sure of it, and Anakin's drunken ineffectiveness did nothing to waylay her concerns - paranoia, her Master had sneered. She was seriously beginning to doubt the wisdom of not just driving them back to the ship when she'd had the chance.
"Master!" she exclaimed, pushing her way through the crowd. She just wanted to leave, just wanted to gather up whatever dignity her Master retained and get out of there. She didn't feel safe anymore, just claustrophobic and annoyed.
Anakin had (finally, she thought) taken a break from dancing and was leaning against a pillar, a noxious-looking drink in his hand, surrounded by a handful of beings. "Yeah," he was saying as she approached. "I mean, I... I save people. It's... It's kind of my thing. What I do. I'm a Jedi, you know." The admission seemed to impress his audience, and Ahsoka huffed and shoved her way forward.
"He has herpes," she said, loud enough to be heard over the pounding bass of the sound system. "Bad herpes."
There was a murmur through the crowd, and Anakin's glazed eyes flashed. "Oh, very funny, Snips," he snarled. "You'll all haveta excuse her. She's... We don't let her outta the Temple much. She's got, you know, mental issues."
Ahsoka squeaked indignantly. "Right, I'M the one with mental problems," she snapped. "I'm his daughter, actually," she told the woman standing closest to Anakin. "He doesn't pay child support. My mother has to whore herself out to support us."
"That's where I got the herpes," Anakin snarked back, and Ahsoka laughed.
"Oh, so you're admitting it!" she exclaimed.
Anakin pursed his lips in confusion. "I-no, I mean, I..." But by that time, the group had dispersed.
He frowned at Ahsoka. "What the kriff," he griped as she glared back. "I was just havin' a little fun. What do you have against fun?"
"I don't," Ahsoka retorted, finding it strange that she was defending NOT acting like a blithering idiot to someone who was supposed to have authority over her. "But I think you've had enough."
Anakin took a swig of his drink. "There's never enough party," he rasped, just as one of the slim, purple-skinned males he'd been grinding against a moment ago fell to his knees on the high-polished floor, retching repeatedly. Nearby club patrons squealed and exclaimed disgustedly, and the dance area thinned out somewhat.
"Okay," Anakin conceded, as if Ahsoka had personally instigated the event to prove her point. "Maybe there was too much party for him. But I'm a Jedi," he boasted again, unnecessarily. "I'm ... better than that."
"Uh-huh," Ahsoka said flatly, unconvinced. She looked around, defeated. Obviously, she wasn't going to be getting anywhere with Anakin, and she doubted Obi-Wan was going to take her side either.
"Lissen," Anakin slurred, putting a hand on her shoulder in what she was pretty sure was an effort to steady himself, "why don't you, I dunno, find some nice Togruta boy to dance with for a while."
Ahsoka whirled, pulling herself out of his grasp. "I doubt there are any *nice boys* here, Master," she snapped. "A point you've proven quite nicely, thank you." He blinked at her, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "You're supposed to be the adult here, Sky Guy," she reminded him.
Anakin snorted into his glass. "Oh, right," he laughed. "Like I need a lecture from my... From a youngling. Even Obi-Wan's havin' fun - why can't you?"
Ahsoka looked askance towards the dimly lit bar. "Not a youngling," she muttered under her breath, though she realized the futility of arguing with her Master when he was this drunk. At his best, Anakin was ridiculously obtuse.
Through the haze, Anakin seemed to sense her deep displeasure. "C'mon, you like to have fun, Snips," he said, and Ahsoka looked up hopefully. "You, you're cool, and smart, and ... You're orange!" Anakin proclaimed. Ahsoka shook her head wordlessly. "Orange people are just, they're just cool," her Master affirmed, then flicked his fingers at her clumsily. "So go be cool."
Ahsoka resisted the urge to pout, realizing that she was, indeed, going to have to be the adult here. A cold chill ran down her spine, and she glanced around, seeing nothing but amassed dancers. "I don't need to make a fool out of myself to have fun," she finally said, pushing Anakin's hand off her head-tail.
"Well, wh-what's the fun in that?" Anakin replied, reeling back from her. "Go 'way, Snips." And with that, he swaggered back into the crowd.
Ahsoka was really beginning to think that 'hate' shouldn't be forbidden by the Code.
Ventress was disgusted. She usually was, of course, but her revulsion in this setting was amplified by the hundreds of beings writhing and grinding and completely giving over control. She did not like it. She needed control, needed a firm grip on things. It was the way of the Sith, to control, to dominate.
Kenobi was easy to track - he remained planted on a barstool, far away from anyone, seeming to radiate his need to drink alone through the Force. Skywalker kept flitting through the crowd, but every time she saw him he was a little more disheveled. The youngling was inconsequential at this point, so while Ventress kept a slight eye out for her, the focus was on the two "heroes".
Kenobi was most easily attainable at this point. Ventress signaled a bar droid, refusing its offer of a drink menu. "That man," she said, pointing at the back of Obi-Wan's head. "What is that he's drinking?"
"It's the house special, ma'am," the droid answered, its voice tinny.
"Bring me one," Ventress ordered. The droid wheeled itself away, returning a few minutes later with a medium-sized glass. The concoction was pale and non-fizzy, but she could tell it was strong. All the better. Reaching into her utility belt, Ventress tugged out Zan Arbor's vial, tapping a few droplets into the glass. The addition was odorless and tasteless, Zan Arbor had assured. She signaled the serving droid again.
"My mistake. I meant to order this for that man," she indicated, sliding the glass along the table, leaving a thin line of condensation.
The droid took it. "Ah, a secret admirer?" it asked.
Ventress gritted her teeth. "Something like that," she agreed, fighting the urge to retch. She watched as the bar 'droid presented Kenobi with the drink with a nod in her direction. She made sure her hood was obscuring her face and waggled her fingers at the Jedi, grimacing. Obi-Wan lifted the glass in a slight salute, and took a drink.
Ventress allowed herself a smirk. One down, one to go. Now where had Skywalker wandered off to?
Anakin was having fun. Even though Ahsoka kept finding him and pestering him about stupid stuff (where had she gone, anyway?), he was having fun. He didn't get to have fun very often, with the war and having a Padawan and all, and it was even more rare that he was able to have fun in the same place as Obi-Wan.
Having finished his drink (what had that been called? It had been delicious, anyway), Anakin decided to touch base with his Master and order a new one at the same time. Planning - he was good at coming up with plans. Sometimes, anyway.
Well, maybe not all the time, but that was what Obi-Wan was for. And speaking of Obi-Wan, his Master was looking awfully delectable, sitting all alone, pretending he didn't know half the club was watching him (the other half, Anakin knew, were watching the Chosen One show).
"Heeey Master," he called, sidling up to Obi-Wan and setting his empty glass on the bar. Obi-Wan's own glass was half-full, and looked like it was yummy, so Anakin commandeered it for himself. After all, they were Partners. They shared everything. Or not. He reached for the other glass sitting in front of his Master, but Obi-Wan slid it away and frowned at him.
"Mine," he glowered, giving Anakin the Look he'd become very accustomed to seeing as a Padawan. "Get your own."
"Don't be greedy, Master," Anakin whined, making another fumbling swipe at the glass. "It's not the Jedi way." He began to pick it up, but Obi-Wan plucked it out of his hand, taking a sip. "Not fair," Anakin pouted.
Obi-Wan just smirked. "It's perfectly fair when someone buys it for you," he boasted.
"What?" Anakin's eyes were bleary. "Who?"
"Someone, I'm not sure," Obi-Wan responded, pausing as if it were taking him longer than usual to process Anakin's words. "An ... admirer."
"Who?" Anakin said again, suddenly on alert, despite his inebriated state.
He looked around, trying to find someone who was paying closer attention than most to his Master, unsure if he sensed danger or... something else. What was that feeling? That weird, niggling, suspicious heaviness?
"I... I do not know, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied, taking the time to enunciate carefully. "Sitting... down there." He flung his arm across Anakin's chest towards a shadowed area of the bar. "Why do you - why do you care, anyway?"
Anakin furrowed his brow. Something was wrong, he knew, but he couldn't quite put the pieces together. They flew around each other - Ahsoka had sensed a disturbance, there was something odd in the Force, but they weren't settling into a coherent picture of the situation. Maybe if he had another drink, he'd be able to make sense of it all. Something in the back of his head told him that his logic was somewhat faulty, but as usual, he ignored that little voice that was beginning to sound annoyingly like Ahsoka. "Master," it screeched at him disapprovingly, complete with head-tails bobbing, and - wait. When did his inner-monologue have head-tails?
"Master," Ahsoka said, and suddenly she was standing almost nearly underfoot, still very screechy and annoying and *loud*. "Master!"
"For kriff's sake, Snips!" Anakin yelled back, scowling. "What is it now? Is something following you again, huh? Is someone going to sneak up behind you and go 'Boo!'?"
"It's Ventress," Ahsoka said hurriedly, tired of playing games. "Ventress is here!"
"Where?" Anakin asked, eyebrow quirked.
"Right here," a cloaked figure said, and suddenly she was upon them.
Obi-Wan merely blinked slightly, and Anakin stumbled backwards, trying to figure out where, exactly, he'd put his lightsaber. Then the dots connected in his brain, and he began to laugh. *Ventress* had been the one to buy Obi-Wan that drink. For some reason, the thought was particularly hilarious and even though he was pretty sure she was going to kill all of them, he couldn't stop laughing.
"*Master*!" Ahsoka exclaimed, igniting her own lightsaber amidst the protests of the bartender and surrounding patrons. To Anakin's mild surprise, Ventress didn't respond in kind, merely held up a vial of something that looked like it probably tasted good. Where was that stupid serving 'droid anyway? Wait, first thing's first. Ventress. Who had a crush on his Master, apparently. Funny stuff, that.
"Not to worry, little one," Ventress informed Ahsoka coolly.
Ahsoka squared her shoulders, lowered her 'saber, and suddenly she was all motion, kicking high into Ventress' chest. The wannabe-Sith crashed backwards into Obi-Wan, the vial springing from her hands and landing with a crunch and a splatter on the floor, the liquid splashing up against Ventress' legs.
Anakin felt firm hands on his shoulders and somebody barked out an order for the Jedi and their antagonist to get the kriff out.