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

Limonite

• Summary: Without thinking, Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his mouth and takes a sip. Anakin’s alarm reaches him in the Force a moment later, just as he notes the flash of triumph in his tablemate’s eyes.

On a mission, Obi-Wan drinks something he's not supposed to.

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Without thinking, Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his mouth and takes a sip. Anakin’s alarm reaches him in the Force a moment later, just as he notes the flash of triumph in his tablemate’s eyes. The Zeltron leans back in her chair, the movement drawing her waistcoat against her body and highlighting the elegant line of her neck.

Her eyes fix on the movement of his throat as he swallows, and she says, “You are a stubborn one. Perhaps our negotiations would proceed better elsewhere.” Perfume wafts from her skin as she holds an elegant card out to him, an address printed on one side. “An invitation,” she explains, “to a rather exclusive…after-party I’m hosting. I’d love to escort you there.”

“I’m afraid I must decline,” Obi-Wan manages, and Anakin’s relief slides through his veins. “I have other business to attend to in the meantime. Surely you understand?” He fights to keep his words from wavering and is mostly successful, because she gives him a cool smile and stands.

“I’ll be there if you change your mind,” she says, and then she disappears into the crowd of bodyguards she’d brought with her. As she exits, a hand settles on his shoulder.

“Time to go,” Anakin says, concern audible in his voice. “Back to the ship so I can figure out exactly what she gave you, and remind you how stupid you are.

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In the bunk in their tiny shuttle, Anakin paces back and forth.

“Vokara gave us one instruction,” he hisses.

Seated on one of the beds, Obi-Wan sighs, digging his thumbs into the back of his neck. An ache has sprung up there, tension and stress manifesting themselves in tight muscles. “I apologise for drinking it, Anakin.”

Anakin’s footsteps halt, then resume until he’s standing behind Obi-Wan. Thumbs, one metal and one flesh, replace his, working away the knots there. He sighs. “Never mind that. How do you feel?”

Obi-Wan considers. “Sore,” he admits, “but that’s nothing new.” Anakin’s hands hit a particularly tight muscle, and Obi-Wan groans from behind his teeth.

Anakin’s fingers gentle, but he asks, “Have you worked out what it does yet?”

Frowning, Obi-Wan takes stock of his body. His shoulders still ache from where he’d been thrown against a wall a few days ago, his right knee twinges as it always does with impending rain—

“Nothing,” he replies. “At least, not yet.”

Anakin nods. “That’s not surprising—you ingested it, so it’ll take time for your body to metabolise whatever the drug is. I expect you’ll start to feel its effects in another…ten minutes or so?” His hands pause in their motions as he thinks aloud. “Then, hopefully its effects will tell us what it is and how to counteract it. I’m assuming it’s not toxic to other humanoids, since the Zeltron drank hers freely.”

“I don’t know enough about Zeltron biology to say either way,” Obi-Wan admits, but Anakin squeezes his shoulder.

“According to Zule, Zeltron biology is similar to most other humanoids, although the red pigment in their skin means they respond differently to some wavelengths of light. I think we can assume that, considering the Zeltron drank at the beginning of your meeting and you drank at the end, she’d have started to feel the effects before we left.”