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

Use My Body To Break Your Fall

• Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi is too good at being a Sith Lord general of the Separatist army. The Jedi Council approaches Anakin Skywalker with an offer he can't refuse. These things are, actually, related.

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“Well,” Anakin says, draping himself artfully against one of the columns framing his landing pad. There’s a faint evening breeze in Coruscant that stirs the wisps of his hair, just cool enough that he can feel goosebumps break out over his exposed chest as his nipples harden. He considers tying his robe closed, but he knows perfectly well the pleasant picture he makes, and why ruin someone else’s good view over a little discomfort? “While I can’t say this is the first time a Jedi has shown up at my door, this is certainly the first time four have come at once.”

Mace Windu’s eye twitches. Anakin can’t stop the smirk from flickering across his face even if he wanted to. “How delightfully….repressed of you,” he continues, dropping into a deep bow as the four Jedi dismount from their speeders and come forward.

“Good evening, Companion Skywalker,” one of the other Jedi greets him calmly, hand extended. Anakin doesn’t recognize her, as he had only met the Jedi Council once when he was a child. An impactful event, to be sure, but the only people he can really remember from that day are Windu, Yoda. Qui-Gon Jinn. His padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Good thing Windu and Yoda are here then. “Good evening, my lady,” he responds, slipping into his Companion facade easily. Be polite, be charming, his instructor's voice murmurs in hiis head. They already want you, make them want you more. He kisses the back of her hand when she gamely lets him hold it. Windu scowls.

“Inside we should go, for this conversation,” Yoda announces. “For you, a proposition we have.”

“Of course,” Anakin says quite graciously. “I am something of an expert on being propositioned.”

Not waiting for a verbal response --Windu’s pinched expression being more than enough-- Anakin turns to lead them into his apartment. He recognizes a business deal when he sees one, which is a shame because he had put on his best, silkiest, and most suggestive robes when C3PO had received a transmission request from the Jedi Council. But considering Yoda had shown up--well. Anakin turned very few paying patrons away from his quarters as a general rule, but he wouldn’t have even let that little green troll get off his ship before sending him away.

Anakin can’t help but shiver in faint disgust at even the thought of sex and Yoda. He truly hates his mind sometimes.

He sinks gracefully into a plush high-backed chair, crossing his legs as he observes the jedi in his living room. This is his actual living room, not the opulent parlor he used for guests, but the Jedi still look vaguely uncomfortable. Amidst the red silk decor and golden accents, the Jedis’ beige and white robes stand out like a sore thumb. “I’m listening,” he says, tracing his hands over the embroidering of his garment in a distracted manner. It’s all calculated, though. You have my attention, he is saying with just the drag of the tips of his fingers. For now.

“Companion Skywalker,” the Nautolan Jedi Anakin doesn't know begins, “You must know that we are currently at war.”

Anakin reins in his initial reaction, which is frank disbelief. "You must know we’re at war?" Yeah, that's a bit hard to miss. Clearly these people think he doesn’t think about or do anything but fuck. He could correct the downright offensive misconception, of course, or he could--

“Yes, it’s been all my senators can talk about,” he says with a demure smile. “While they can talk, that is.”

He wonders if he can make that little vein in Windu’s head burst before they leave. It’s a challenge he’s happy to set for himself.