one night in coruscant || obikin

06.

Kriffing hell.

By the look on his face, I could tell Anakin would NEVER let this go. From the feeling in my face I knew that I was very flushed and thoroughly embarrassed, and I hid that face in my hands after returning the holopad.

"Anakin... why didn't you stop me? Force- this is mortifying! Why did I- I only had one drink!"

He laughed. "One spiked drink. That bartender didn't like the looks of you, and I assume he spiked it."

I grumbled, turning away and searching around for my clothes. "What did you do with my things?" Tilting his head, he peered at me in that way again. "What do you mean? I haven't done anything."

Turning back towards him, I gave him my 'do I look like I'm joking' face, but it didn't phase him. "Anakinnn-" I tried pouting; He laughed. "Why would I help you? I like it when you're all... ruffled. You look h- uh, more human."

I paused. Was that a compliment? From Anakin?

Despite my best efforts, a small blush crept up my neck, so I turned away and crawled around to see where my clothes were. The hair on my neck rose, for I could tell he was watching me. Eventually, I found the pile of my things, pulled off hastily and discarded in the corner.

Wrinkled fabric fell over my head, messing up my hair as well-worn leather boots slipped onto feet and my belt buckled around my waist. I had no reason to, but I was hurrying. I suppose I must have been eager to get out, to escape his captive gaze, to attempt to regain the composure I had lost.

This is ridiculous. You just slept, its not a big deal. You did that all the time when he was a padawan...

I reminisced a moment; Recalling fleeting fragmented moments where a younger Anakin was always there to patch my wings as they fell apart- always there to keep me from falling from the grace that I swore to uphold as an example for him. He had helped me through hardships countless: Qui-Gon's and Satine's deaths, particularly lethal battles, the infrequent nightmare; he had, though he didn't realize it, always been able to ease my stress and lighten the mood in the midst of so much destruction, sadness, and fear. It was always Anakin.

The recollections had hit me abruptly, and I gazed past his shoulder as they passed. It must have been a long moment, because Anakin waved his hand in front of my face. "Obes? You ok?" I flushed at the old nickname, and spun towards the exit, shooting him an "I'm fine" as I went. As his door shut behind me, I noticed my flushed cheeks and racing heart.

Why am I feeling this way? It's just Anakin...

But, as I imagined him meditating in his sun-lit room, strong legs crossed over one another, arms resting in his lap, his bare, muscled chest rising and falling, his eyes closed and his lashes resting gently on his barely-freckled cheeks, his wavy golden hair in his eyes- his eyes... I realized it was Anakin. And he was making me feel a way I shouldn't.

I hurried away, my brain still straggling behind as it grappled with the realization of what I felt for him, the realization that part of me wished we hadn't just slept...