Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. Thank goodness.
Author's note: Reposted from my LJ.
_BEAUTIFUL WITH A SIDE OF MACHINE OIL_
He's really beautiful, which irks me because I know I shouldn't notice and yet I inevitably do.
Right now he's sitting in the floor of our quarters in the Jedi Temple, frowning over some piece of machinery - a droid of some kind, I'm not sure of its exact purpose, even less sure of what it will be doing when Anakin gets through with it - and the light striking his hair turns the dirty blond to gold, and when he senses my scrutiny and looks up at me, the beginnings of a smile lighting up his eyes and teasing the corners of his full lips, it thrusts into me like a blow to the sternum, or like a lover's penetrating touch: hot and forceful, and I feel it everywhere.
"What?" he asks me, puzzled but still smiling.
Think of something, Obi-Wan. "That's what, Master to you," I say, smiling a little myself so he'll know I'm not really upset. "And I was wondering why you thought our living room floor was a good place for this mess."
He gazes up at me, all blue-eyed innocence - I know, logically, that blue eyes shouldn't look any more or less innocent than green or brown, or any other color - but somehow Anakin's manage. Usually. "But you said to come home early, Master," he says. "And this needs to be done by tomorrow, or Master Che won't be able to make her special soup tomorrow night. So I just brought it home with me." I don't quite understand why this particular droid is necessary for Vokara Che's soup, but perhaps it serves some kitchen function. He shades into further innocence, and I frown at him, trying to decide whether he's for real or not. "Do you want me to move it to the kitchen table?"
I almost flinch at the thought. "No!" I say, losing some of my Jedi calm. "No, just ... keep it in here, then. But be sure you clean this mess up before you go to bed tonight."
He beams up at me, all his fondest wishes apparently satisfied by this small concession. "Yes, Master."
He cleans up everything but himself before he wanders off to his room to collapse on the bed - it's nearly midnight, but he wouldn't quit working until he got the droid done - still smudged with machine oil, even more beautiful than before.