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

Shut Up, Snips!

• Summary: Ahsoka has a bet with Rex, Fives, and Cody. At a diplomatic event, she watches her Master watch his Master, and isn't sure she's going to win. But that's probably okay. Maybe.

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Anakin pretended not to watch as Obi-Wan made the rounds in the ballroom, greeting dignitaries with his customary bow and nod of acknowledgement. As a waiter passed by, Anakin grabbed another fluted glass of ambrosia, taking a long sip to hide his frustration.

“Skyguy, seriously, if you're just going to stand there and ignore me, the least you can do is swipe one of those for me,” Ahsoka complained, reaching for the half-empty glass.

Scowling, Anakin jerked it out of reach, finishing the drink in one quick gulp. “Last time I looked, you're not nearly old enough, Snips. Best leave it,” he hiccupped, “to the adults,” he advised, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Disgusted, Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Let me know when you see one,” she muttered. Scanning the room, she snorted and cocked her head towards a group clustering around a certain immaculately groomed human male. She side-eyed her Master knowingly.

“Huh. So is that what's flown up your exhaust port, Master Kenobi flirting with, like, everyone here?” she baited, knowing full well these two nerf-herders burned like a supernova for each other but for some idiot reason hadn't bothered to tell each other yet. She had a hundred credits on it finally happening this mission. Cody refused to believe it at all and raised her another fifty, while Rex and Fives thought her Masters wouldn't even last until midnight.

They might be right, she thought with some dismay, scanning her chrono. Really, she should have known better: at these kinds of events, her Master was about as sociable as her other Master was shy. It was only 0930 and SkyGuy was ready to blow a manifold, while Master Kenobi seemed as gregarious as ever, as he threw his head back with a laugh–all teeth–at something a lithe young Kuati delegate had just shared.

“What? I...I...what? He isn't flirting with anyone! He's just...he's just being...” Anakin gestured emphatically with his drink.

She nodded, glancing over at her Master. “A… flirt?”

“Ahsoka!” he scolded, sounding both scandalized and outraged, a combination she knew from experience meant she’d hit the nail on the head and he knew it.

She turned and smothered a laugh as Master Kenobi graciously—though with a considerable blush—accepted a traditional kiss on both cheeks from a very shapely youth ambassador. “You were saying?” she giggled. By the Force, he’s hopeless. They both are. 

Anakin glowered and shoved four petite seaweed sandwiches in his mouth at once, frowning at the taste as crumbs sprayed everywhere. “Shut. Up. Snips.”

Ahsoka took a drink from her bubble tea and shook her head ruefully. She'd be paying Rex and Fives tonight, undoubtedly. It would be totally worth it, she had to admit, to put these two–and the rest of the 501st and 212th–out of their collective misery, until another troubling thought came to mind.

Oh, kriff. As long as I don’t have to hear it, see it, or know anything about it. 

Anakin turned towards her, crossing his arms. “It’s called diplomacy. Or did you forget the entire semester you spent complaining about how you’d rather be in advanced astromechanics with Master Tiin?” Smirking, grabbed another glass and tipped it towards her. ”Because I haven’t.”

Ahsoka sniffed dismissively and nudged his shoulder. “Hey, it’s not like you were any great role model.”

“Probably not, no,” Anakin laughed, nudging her back. “But I did help you rewire that plasma uptake array on that Z95 Headhunter. Obi-Wan’s the diplomat, not me.”

“Uh huh. Obviously. I mean, I’ve never seen you…well…do that?” she pointed out, snorting into her glass. Master Kenobi was being led out to the center of the room to a raucous, thumping beat, flanked on either side by their two tall, lanky Arconan hosts. When they boxed him in and began grinding against him, Ahsoka began to shake, trying and failing to keep her voice even. “S-so…so that’s diplomacy, huh? Got it, Skyguy.”

Next to her, Ahsoka heard her Master fire off a string of Huttese–she wasn’t fluent yet, but those words she understood loud and clear, as clear as the glower darkening their training bond.

“Master,” she said with knowing concern, reaching for him, but he was already downing his drink in a single gulp. “Don’t do anything–” her arm dropped to her side, “–stupid,” she finished quietly, watching him stalk out onto the dance floor.

“Rex?”

“Yeah, Commander. I’ve got eyes on ‘em. Hope you’re ready to pay up, Sir.”

Ahsoka shook her head, “Never gonna happen here, Rex. It’s a diplomatic– sweet mother of the Force…”

Ahsoka watched, dumbfounded, as Skyguy stalked over to the Arconans and yanked Master Obi-Wan into his arms, practically tipping him back with a ferocious, uncomfortably-long kiss. Then Master Obi-Wan reciprocated, grabbing Anakin’s hair in both hands and pulling him back into another kiss with–ugh– a lot of tongue.

Somewhere across the room, Ahsoka heard Fives whistle, long and loud, and suddenly Cody hurried up to their sides, wide-eyed and full of confused concern. “Excuse me, Generals? Is everything alright here?”, and Ahsoka could only laugh until her eyes were watering.

Her Masters finally broke apart, Obi-Wan’s cheeks a bright red as he stammered and attempted to offer an excuse, while Anakin actually managed to look both sheepish and somehow defiant, as the crowd whooped and applauded the evening’s entertainment. It was when Senator Organa swept out onto the dance floor and in no way discreetly passed them a room keycard that Ahsoka realized she had actually lost the bet. As Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand and quickly dragged him from the room, her comm went off again.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m making the transfer now, Rex. You win.”

Maybe we all win, she thought with a smile, feeling the glowing warmth and contentment in the Force.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Later, when she felt something else in the Force, she made a disgusted face.

Gross. Gods, maybe not.