Era: Clone Wars
Setting: On board the Coronet, the night of the episode "Voyage to Temptation" of the ongoing series "Star Wars: The Clone Wars."
Disclaimer: I am not George Lucas, and I make no profit from this fanfiction set in his Star Wars.
Summary: Anakin and Obi-Wan share a bunk on a transport. Slash.
a/n This fic grew from a drabble Thursday prompt on the LJ community, CAPSLOCK_CW. The visual input for this is in the midst of the episode in what seems to be the Jedi quarters aboard a yacht; standard cabin, desk with chair on one side, bunk on the other. Just one puny bunk. We know what that means.
"It's a three-quarter sized bunk, Anakin. We'll be cramped."
"'M tired, don't care." And I could use the empty bunk of Mixer or Red-Eye, but I won't intrude on the men's grief, Anakin thought. He shed the last of his armor in a careless pile, then kicked it out of the walkway when Obi-Wan gave him an expressionless look. Anakin scratched the places that he couldn't reach when his armor was on and crawled between the sheets.
Obi-Wan hid his sorrowful thoughts well. "I'm going to watch HoloNet for awhile. Here's a sleep mask."
"Turn down the volume, would you?" Anakin shoved one ear into his pillow, but the drone of a documentary on Draboon's wildlife persisted.
A twitch of a black-gloved finger and it was done. "Of course." Anakin fell asleep wondering about Obi-Wan's frivolous use of the Force. First Calling the chair to his grasp earlier, then this, well, perhaps it was a way to divert his Master's mind from his recently-exposed past, who knew. The power of the Force extended to persuasion, and Obi-Wan was canny enough to know that he himself needed persuading from his darker thoughts.
The Coronet dulled with that middle of the night flatness that Anakin felt on any planet or vessel that he ever slept on. Even in the midst of hyperspace, the doldrums were unmistakable, yet something awakened him. He slipped off the sleepmask.
" ... ohhhh ... mmmmm .... ahhh ... eeeeEEEEE ... "
"Master, you fell asleep and left the viewer on --- whoa."
"Mmmuuhhh, wha? Oh, sorry --- whoa."
Three or more beings of mixed species --- Anakin thought they were Mandalorian, Dug and something else --- crowded and cavorted on the retro two-dimensional screen. It was a good thing that the monitor was not three-dimensional. Anakin was working to rid himself of his prejudice towards Dugs and couldn't honestly say he'd gotten far with the effort.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "It's, erm, late night programming. Some premium channel."
"Yes. I didn't know Togrutans bent like that." There followed some more improbable contortions and spasmed dialogue. Anakin compared it to holodisks that he had sneaked viewing when younger ... much younger, he told himself. This was high-grade stuff, musically inventive and featuring soft-focus effects and a minimum of lens flare. He should have known that the Duchess' taste pervaded even this aspect of her travel plans. She rose higher in his estimation.
There was some sort of mutual tonguing and then the screen raced by in a blur of the production's credits, far too fast to read. "Well, that's the end. Turn it off and let's get some sleep." Anakin could tell that Obi-Wan pushed it all out of his mind and concentrated on the fatigue of the moment as if he really wanted to forget his romances, past and pr---, well, past.
"I can't sleep now."
Obi-Wan sighed at the tented disturbance beneath their septsilk duvet. "Oh, to be twenty once more. All right, put on the sleepmask again."
Anakin never would have thought of Obi-Wan as kinky. "Why?"
"It's only for you that I would do this. You pretend I'm someone attractive. Quickest way to get you off and for us both to catch some sleep."
It was brusque, it was business-like, it was Obi-Wan. Anakin squirmed as a practiced hand thumbed open the codpiece on his red bodysuit. "You know best, Masterrrrrr --- Oh. Yes. Like that --- your beard scratches --- "
"Not trimming it slurp for you, or, or anyone --- "
Anakin didn't mean to pull Obi-Wan's hair, but this broadcast had reminded him of the way that montrals grew in both their length and their talents --- "Guh, soon, uhh," he said, then couldn't talk any more. The galaxy became hyperspace to him, all blazing spirals of circling lights. He slumped back from his arch and panted.
"My pleasure, Anakin. Now sleep." Anakin expected a mild sleep compulsion trickling over their bond, but nothing happened.
"You don't have to do that by yourself. You're shaking the bunk."
The shaking turned to a languorous rhythm, just enough to idle Obi-Wan's engines. It was as if he flew in a personal hyperspace, that waiting between destinations that could drive anyone to seek diversion. The Jedi thought of life as a journey, undertaken in the same practiced and righteous manner beginning to end, but Anakin's life held jolting changes of direction and dizzying speeds. Anakin hoped that the Duchess' stay on Coruscant was as peaceful as her adventures with Obi-Wan on Kalevala had been deadly. Obi-Wan's next words held all the repression that Anakin had come to associate with his Master. "I'm all right with it."
He was too much, sometimes. "Unnecessarily so. I'll be the Duchess for you."
"She and I never did this --- "
"Hush, and put on the mask."
"What do you mean, I'm naked?"
It was unlike Obi-Wan to put off getting dressed for the day. Anakin ran a finger around the neckpiece of his own armor, adjusting it to comfort. "I mean that the bodystocking doesn't hide anything, Master. Especially in this light." Obi-Wan tidied their bunk after their first night onboard the Coronet. It really was kind of cute, the way he bent and reached and tucked. The onboard deluxe service would cover this chore, of course, but Obi-Wan was nothing if not dutiful.
Obi-Wan straightened and the view was cut off. "I sent out my armor to be cleaned while you were sleeping and to have the dents taken out by the machine shop below decks. The steward is attending to my tabards. It wouldn't hurt your appearance to have yours attended to, either."
So this was to be a power play? All right then; Anakin could fire off a salvo in ways that he couldn't as a Junior Padawan when Obi-Wan's mild discipline followed any bratty outbursts. "My tabards don't show the dirt as much and my armor isn't as dented. I'm always saving you, not the other way around."
"Anakin, really, if you mean to place our relationship on a bookkeeping level --- "
There was a sense of this conversation turning serious, and Anakin wouldn't have it. Not this early in the morning, anyway. "Our relationship doesn't depend on keeping tallies. We both know the numbers --- oh, forget I brought it up. I'll get the armor cleaned, just for you." He didn't have to prove himself as much anymore and that felt almost as good as the sex had.
Obi-Wan nodded, satisfied with the taut look of the bunk. "I'll ring for the steward."
Anakin undid his gorget's magnaseal clasp. The armor cleaved itself from itself, neck to rotator cuff, left and right, as he detached the pieces, placing them on the unnaturally uncluttered desk. Obi-Wan rang the service bell. "Help me with my greaves?"
Obi-Wan gave him an unfathomable look. "This is tit for tat, isn't it. I made you get your armor cleaned, and now I'm to do something for you." He folded his arms, his black gloves turning invisible against the black gription material of his bodysuit. He resembled a disgruntled torch with his flameflower shock of touseled hair.
"You couldn't make me do anything that I didn't want to do, Obi-Wan. Why so combative?" They both had slept well, even if Obi-Wan had elbowed him in the throat just before ship's morning. There was tension here and he didn't understand it, especially after last night when they'd been close. "Are you hungry?" Anakin asked, at a loss. Perhaps the sumptuous breakfast that all high-end yachts provided would soothe the savage breast, like music was said to do. Speaking of music, there was an early morning susurrus being piped into their cabin almost subliminally. It sounded like 'bow-chicka-bow-chick', ridiculous lyrics if ever he heard any. It may have been the Concordia dialect that Obi-Wan had briefed him on, he supposed. Perhaps the Duchess was trying to be political and cater to all possible passengers in her choice of background orchestration.
"No, I'm not hungry. Well, I am, but this is more important. Anakin, we must forget last night." Anakin Felt Obi-Wan use the Force to sublimate his blush. Too bad; the Kenobi flush had humanized Obi-Wan to Anakin for twelve years now.
"I already did." If it took soothing words to get them back on track, all right. He could forget everything. It hadn't been much more than comfort sex, hardly a thing to get worked up over, but the morning after was disturbing Obi-Wan somehow. If Obi-Wan thought that Anakin had any claim on him and might object to Obi-Wan reawakening a relationship with Satine, he was mistaken. Time to get back to their mission, after breakfast, anyway. Anakin wanted to forget everything that happened yesterday and indulge himself in morning cuisine, anyone's version of morning cuisine, and perhaps a Virgin Nemana Neuro-Numb from the bartender. The deaths this early in the mission would not haunt him on a full stomach. He would let his appetite determine his reality.
Obi-Wan looked down. "I appreciate what you did for me last night and I know that you appreciated what I did for you. Let's leave it at that."
"Sure." Was something stirring underneath Obi-Wan's skintight suit? Anakin couldn't be sure. Poor thing, it would be choked if it weren't released soon. Obi-Wan was probably conflicted this morning, yes that was it. Obi-Wan was so complicated.
Obi-Wan shifted from foot to foot. "Fine."
"Good. Now, the greaves?" Anakin planted his feet apart, arms crossed as he directed them back to the business of their partnership. Obi-Wan glanced sideways at him, pursing his lips, unsure. "Come on, I won't get my armor back when you get yours back if you don't hurry up. The steward will be here soon." I suppose it is a power play, Anakin thought, but at least it's not bookkeeping.
"Very well." Obi-Wan knelt, head at the perfect position. He fumbled with the greaves' catch, the Force trembling around him. He could have used the Force frivolously for these recalcitrant buckles, thought Anakin, but he didn't. That had to mean something.
"Obi-Wan --- "
"Yes?" Those eyes, those Tatooine-winter eyes, icy, then warm, then icy ---
"As long as you're down there ... "