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

To Regain Composure

• Summary: “Always pushing,” Obi-Wan’s voice is against his ear, low in a way that it’s never been before. Dangerous, Anakin’s addled brain supplies. “One day, dear one, I fear you will bite off more than you can chew.”

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Anakin Skywalker had a problem.

A fixation was perhaps the more fitting term.

Known for his patience and cunning on the battlefield, General Kenobi was beloved by civilians and troops alike, and as charming and put-together as he was, it was no surprise that he was chosen to be the poster child of the Republic; his face was plastered on propaganda all across the Galaxy, all elegant angles and artfully placed shadows.

General Skywalker, on the other hand, was voted by the Clones as ‘Most Likely To Get You Annihilated On a Mission’ two years running. He is brash and over-emotional, and he knows it.

Most days, it felt as though if one were to create a venn diagram of the pair of them, the entirety of the center would be composed of skilled Jedi with perhaps a dash of incredibly lucky.

Two sides of a coin, they were, and though they have perfected the art of balancing each other out, sometimes Anakin couldn’t help but fixate on just how unruffled his former Master was. He always seemed to take Anakin’s petulance, his defiance, in stride.

They were a great team, sure—the best in the Galaxy, if the HoloNet had anything to say about it—but Anakin, no stranger to obsession over simple notions, had an inexplicable desire to see a break in the perfect visage.

Bad idea, a voice in the back of his mind had told him.

But the thought had already wormed its way under his skin and made itself at home.

And thus, Anakin Skywalker plotted.

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At first, he’d started off simple.

It was incredibly easy for him to overtly flirt with Obi-Wan, as Anakin was never really one for subtlety to begin with. He’d slide in comments anywhere; public settings, on missions, even at debriefings. He hadn’t anticipated, however, that Obi-Wan would give it back just as well.

“As dashing as ever, General Kenobi.”

“A grand compliment, coming from the most lusted after man in the Galaxy.”

Too many times he had ended up being the only one flustered—really, what was he even thinking, trying to out-charm the one man who flirted with absolutely everybody— and it had hit him, then, that this would be a lot harder than he originally anticipated.

After all, if Anakin ignoring direct orders on a regular basis didn’t get under Obi-Wan’s skin, it was going to take a lot more than that to get a proper reaction.

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His chance comes to him in the form of a diplomatic mission on the planet of Carida.

They spend the evening taking part in a sixteen course meal, Anakin passing the time by using the Force to knock particularly dreadful diplomats’ silverware onto the floor.

At one point, Obi-Wan gives him a pointed look, but Anakin doesn’t miss that when a dinner guest’s bowl of soup, in the middle of his monologue that perhaps they should bring up the idea of indentured servitude in the Senate again, falls mysteriously into his lap, Obi-Wan’s hands are coincidentally hidden under the table cloth.