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

Get My Way

• Summary: Normal was good. Normal meant that everything was right in the universe. This… this was decidedly not.

Or, Five times Obi-Wan watched others lust over his very pretty padawan, and one time he staked his claim.

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[1]

The first time it happened, Anakin was a mere fifteen years of age. A fact that Obi-Wan first became painfully aware of that night, much to his chagrin. 

And dismay.

Another Mid-Rim planet, another local spat the Jedi had been called upon to help mediate.  And hopefully, negotiate the signing of a peace treaty in the end. All in all, it was a normal day, a normal mission, and Obi-Wan found himself imploring the universe to shake up the monotonous normalcy with something a little more… stimulating.

But he hadn’t envisioned… this. Instantly, Obi-Wan regretted his restlessness.

Normal was good. Normal meant that everything was right in the universe.

This… this was decidedly not. 

They were at a banquet, a celebration hosted in honour of the Jedi’s successful political intervention. All in all, there was nothing particularly notable about that evening, even surrounded by the sheer display of prosperity and abundance as they were. The wealth had long ago stopped setting Obi-Wan on edge, though he was no less eager to wrap up the proceedings and return home to the beige and banality of the Temple.

At least until Anakin approached suddenly, the boy's dark robes flapping furiously in his wake with the speed at which he moved. 

Obi-Wan curled one eyebrow at the display; Anakin’s antics were a bit strange, granted, but the anxiety inordinately creasing his young forehead was troubling.

“Master. Roll with it, please,” he hissed under his breath and quickly tucked himself out of view behind Obi-Wan’s body.  

Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder warily, “Go with wha—”

“Anakin!” a young, girlish voice interrupted, and suddenly Obi-Wan was surrounded by a gaggle of opulently dressed young women—the royal family's young princess and her menagerie of handmaidens, he recalled—batting their eyelashes at…

Oh. 

OH.

Amusement shot through Obi-Wan at the source of his young padawan’s obvious discomfort, and he couldn’t help the wry grin that played at the corner of his mouth with the epiphany. However, the brief bemusement was abruptly washed away and replaced with a jarring, inexplicable feeling of stone-cold contempt that melted the grin off his face. It was as though he had swallowed a handful of rocks that promptly sunk to the bottom of his stomach, threatening to pull him through the floor where he stood.

What in the blazes…

“What did he say? Can you come with us?” the young princess exclaimed.

The squealed words shocked Obi-Wan out of the startling muddle of negative feelings that had mysteriously overwhelmed him, and he eyed Anakin over his shoulder with a brow furrowed in confusion.

Anakin wrinkled his nose and yanked on the sleeve of Obi-Wan’s robe, fixing him with a pointed glare before returning to the young royal. “M—my apologies, your Majesty. But I can’t... my Master’s a bit of a buzzkill.” he stuttered with inelegant disappointment, backing further behind Obi-Wan’s body and away from the eager advances of the young woman.