Two Halfs of One Warrior • Obikin/Vaderwan One-Shots

Moondust

• Summary: Whenever he had envisioned this, in his darkest moments, he had expected it to feel wrong. He had imagined that kissing Anakin, wanting him in the most basal of ways, would feel like a betrayal. A betrayal of his vow to be Anakin’s master, a betrayal of the Jedi code and the Order. He thought it would feel exciting and secret, so bad that it would be good.

He did not expect the Force to sing around them, to feel the love swell within his heart. He did not expect it to feel so, undeniably right.

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It wasn’t unusual for Anakin to climb into his master’s bed.

At least, it hadn’t when he had been younger. Until his mid-teens, Obi-Wan had entertained the young padawan, even though it was advised that he not. When he was first brought to the Jedi temple, Anakin had often complained of the cold, instead huddling against Obi-Wan for warmth, burying his face in the Jedi’s robes, seeking warmth.

Obi-Wan had known it wasn’t exactly the conservative approach he had anticipated in his teachings, but he couldn’t say no to Anakin. When he was young, Obi-Wan would allow the padawan into his bed, read him stories and pet through his hair as Anakin would thank him for not leaving him alone, for saving him. Maybe that made Obi-Wan too proud, too attached to this boy that clearly thought Obi-Wan was the sun.

Perhaps that is what prevented him from saying no when Anakin continued to climb into his bed far past what even Obi-Wan considered acceptable. At one point in time, when Anakin was fifteen, he crawled in beside Obi-Wan without a word and hugged his master, and for the first time, Obi-Wan realized that this was not a boy that he was comforting. Anakin’s arms were strong, and his shoulders were broad, and they were practically the same height now. As Anakin drifted off to sleep, cradling Obi-Wan in his arms, the Jedi had vowed to never let this padawan – now a man – into his bed again. It simply wasn’t appropriate. Anakin had adapted to Coruscant’s climate, so there was simply no need. Even if it was beneficial to them both after a difficult mission, even if Obi-Wan found the smell of Anakin’s hair the most comforting thing in the galaxy. It needed to stop.

And it did. Until Anakin was twenty, and tall, and headstrong, and determined. And Obi-Wan couldn’t help but look at him with equal amounts pride, admiration, and longing that a Jedi should definitely not feel, especially for one’s padawan.

Anakin all but stormed into Obi-Wan’s apartment through their adjoining door. Obi-Wan had been reading, and raised an eyebrow at the irritation that was radiating loud and clear through their training bond. Anakin’s brows were furrowed, his mouth downturned in a pout. His padawan braid swung wildly as he huffed, stomping into the living area where his master sat cross-legged on a meditation mat, the book now lowered to observe the padawan in front of him.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan greeted, testing the waters.

“Master, attachment is forbidden for Jedi, yes?” Anakin asked, his eyes all but boring into his master’s. Obi-Wan couldn’t help the confusion that shone on his face, as if he hadn’t had this conversation with his padawan thousands of times over Anakin’s (very touchy-feely, very possessive) training.

“Of course it is, Anakin.” Obi-Wan was concerned as to why his padawan would even ask him such an obvious question.

Anakin threw his hands up as he paced in front of his master, the exasperation coating their bond.

“Then why is it that I just saw my fellow padawans kissing – kissing, master! In the room of a thousand fountains! Just out in the open!” Anakin’s voice was trembling as he tried to keep his volume under control. His cheeks were colored, and Obi-Wan followed the padawan braid as it bounced with Anakin’s hand gestures.