Title: Meditation
Summary: Anakin tries a new method of morning meditation.
Timeframe: Clone Wars
Disclaimer: If I owned Star Wars, I doubt I'd be posting fanfic!
Author Notes: For some reason I found the idea of Anakin (or hell, any guy) doing what he does in this fic completely adorable and sexy, and I had to fic it. Probably the fastest I've ever jotted down some sort of fic, actually. This is short, fluffy and definitely heavy on the sweet. (Like a big ol' ball of cotton candy, really.) Aside from my brief read-throughs, completely unbeta-ed.

Thanks to everyone for the wonderful reviews! I adore my messed-up Chosen One and his angel, so I'm pleased and grateful to know I'm doing them justice for some of you. :)


It was the warmth of the rising sun on his face that opened Anakin Skywalker's eyes from his meditation. Even then he closed his eyes again, reveling in the feeling of it - somehow the sunlight, as with everything else on Naboo, seemed purer here than on Coruscant. Everything was... cleaner, and even the Force seemed to flow more freely through him.

A smile curved his lips. Then again, when he was on Naboo, he suspected that something else entirely also played a significant part in the peace he felt.

Turning from the open balcony greeted him with a sight that made his attempt at morning meditation seem shameful - peace and clarity and awe surged through him as always at the sight of his wife, visible amidst the well-tangled mass of sheets on their bed.

It had only been the knowledge that she would still be there waiting for him that had coaxed him to finally leave her side earlier this morning, to try a more conventional (and solitary) means of meditation than the kind he typically engaged in in her presence. In protest to his gently disengaging his arm from around her shoulders, she'd moaned in her sleep and tried to curl more snugly against him, body rubbing against his. It had almost - almost - convinced him to just give up and remain where he was, but he managed to free himself, sparing only a lingering kiss on her scalp.

He certainly wasn't going to fight it next time.

Or, maybe he would. He found nothing in the galaxy compared to the sight of his love as she was right then. Red-gold sunlight teasing the dark curls framing her face and spilling onto her pillow, tracing the outline of her small but exquisite form. One arm pillowed under her head, the other flung away from her in the spot where he'd lay, away from the the sheets that covered her chest about as well as that pink-and-yellow gown of hers covered her back. But what caught his attention most, for some reason, was a single foot and ankle peeking out from under the fabric. Something about the way it curved, the dramatic sweep where it became her calf...

Yes, it was definitely worth getting up if it meant seeing her like this.

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed facing her. He leaned forward, planting a single kiss on the bare foot. Then another on the smooth part of her ankle, brushing his lips slowly against the skin, marveling at how silken and perfect it was. She moaned a little in her sleep, trying to pull the foot underneath the sheet. He thought he'd never heard her make a more endearing noise.

(The previous night flashed through his mind, and he decided that there might be some room for debate in that area.)

His real hand caught her foot as it moved away, fingers closing around the the heel, thumb stroking the curve of that ankle.

Grinning, Anakin continued to rain kisses on the ankle, then after peeling the sheet away, slowly up her leg, all the while sneaking glances to see when she'd wake. He ran his hand up and down the leg as he kissed it, until a giggle halted him. He looked up, not moving from his position above her knee.

Her eyes were open, and at once, as always, he felt insignificant yet worshiped in them.

"You stopped," she said with a scowl that didn't quite meet her eyes. It turned into a pout, and in an instant she let out a girlish shriek and giggle as Anakin leapt forward and pinned her down, determined to catch that teasingly-stuck-out lower lip with both of his own.

The morning could go on without them.

-

[end]