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

I Can Feel Him In My Bones

• Summary: Obi-Wan didn’t expect to find somewhere he called home after the Jedi Temple fell. He didn’t expect Anakin.

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Obi-Wan Kenobi had only met Anakin Skywalker a few months ago, but he thought he knew him pretty well. It had been something that he had to be good at, reading people, when he had been a Jedi, and something he needed to make sure he was still good at, now that the Republic had fallen—the Old Republic. It had been ten years, and that time had passed by both incredibly fast and incredibly slow.

Anakin had only been fourteen when Palpatine and Count Dooku had overthrown the Jedi Council and then proceeded to pull apart the Senate and spread their destruction through the Republic before moving onto the rest of the Galaxy. While Obi-Wan’s entire world fell apart around him, Anakin’s world remained as pained and enslaved as he had always known it—Tattooine more than happy to take on any agreement needed with the emerging Trade Federation. It had been another two years before Anakin and his mother, Shmi Skywalker, had been bought by a man named Cliegg Lars, who had released them both and married Shmi. Obi-Wan had still been running then, trying to pick up any fraying pieces of his old life and find any connection he could, while Anakin was just getting his first taste of freedom.

Obi-Wan found himself in Naboo when he was thirty, six years after the fall of the Republic. It had been somewhere he’d had a lot of missions with his master, Qui-Gon Jinn, and fond memories with a Chiss man, his red eyes always stroking something inside Obi-Wan that he’d needed to push down for so long. Anakin had gotten there only a year later, actually, when he was twenty-one, but Obi-Wan hadn’t met him until later. Anakin was an incredible mechanic, could fix anything he put his hands on, and all he wanted was to get away from the planet that had kept him a prisoner. He loved his mother dearly, but he rubbed shoulders negatively with Cliegg and his son, Owen Lars, regularly, who was Anakin’s age. He forced himself to get along with them because he was appreciative of everything they had done for him and his mother, but he got out of there as soon as he could.

He lived with his best friend, Padmé Amidala, who he’d met on his first night on Naboo, and while his registered profession was as a mechanic, he made a large percentage of his income by illegal races and occasionally smuggling for the Rebellion. He and Padmé had slept together for a while but it seemed as though it had only been friendly, there was never anything but love when he spoke about her.

He didn’t like sand—Obi-Wan had almost laughed at the pouty expression on his face when he had said that.

He was kind, and filled with love and passion, and funny—and also had a fiery temper that flared up out of nowhere at times.

He had been through hell and back and seen things that no one ever should, and he still had more to give.

And he was so, so willing to give that to Obi-Wan, barely any questions asked.

Obi-Wan didn’t deserve him, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Anakin was sitting on the floor of his home—a place much nicer than anything Obi-Wan had ever dreamed of as a Jedi. He had one leg folded underneath him and the ties of his shirt were loose, showing off his sun-kissed chest. He was smoking a mix of herbs, his eyes already had a glaze over them, and as his senior, Obi-Wan often wondered—maybe wanted —to chide Anakin for his choices, but then again, who was Obi-Wan to talk.

With the things that Obi-Wan had done over the years, even in the name of the greater good, and some of the things he did now made him cringe and turn away. He tried to stay away from anything too dangerous or close to the Empire, but he had definitely worked for several criminals before. Gods, he was a criminal—technically a traitor now.