one night in coruscant || obikin

10.

-anakin's pov-

Morning came too quickly, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Obi-Wan curled against my body, his chest rising and falling peacefully against mine. Sighing contentedly, I hugged him as gently as I could, pulling him closer to me. I had slept all night- so my theory had been correct.

Knowing he wouldn't let me hold him forever, I enjoyed each moment we passed together in his bed. My breaths came out of my nose, ruffling his strawberry-blond hair. Usually it was parted and combed neatly, but this morning it was disheveled. I loved it.

He stirred, and I knew it was coming to an end. Expecting him to get up quickly, I prepared myself to be cold again. Instead, he turned around, buried his face in my chest, and draped an arm across my back, his fingertips grazing my spine and sending shivers cascading across it.

I grinned wildly, resting my face in his hair, allowing one hand to travel in a circle on his lower back.

I realized he was not quite awake, and that he probably had not remembered where he was, who he was with, or, really, what he was doing. So, using every bit of self-discipline I could muster, I tapped him on the shoulder to wake him.

"Obi-Wan. Its morning. Would you like to meditate?" He made a contented sound and tilted his head up to look at me. My slightly trembling hand meandered its way up his back and onto the nape of his neck.

Allowing myself one instant of self-indulgence, I gazed into his eyes, along the lines of his face; my eyes roving along his nose to his cheeks, his jawline, his beard, his lips...

He cleared his throat, and sat up stiffly, seizing a pillow before speaking gruffly. "So, I take it you slept." Grinning, rolled onto my back and stretched out my spine, hands lacing themselves behind my head as I nodded happily. "Yep. Thank you, master."

-obi-wan's pov-

The way he uttered 'master-' the playful lilt of his deep voice and the twinkle in his frisky, brilliant eyes- made my stomach do a summersault. I clasped the pillow to myself, praying it was adequately covering my lap; I could never allow him to know what he does to me.

"I- where did I put my clothes?" I glanced around before locating my shirt: folded on the chair beside my bed, where it always was. Trying my best not to touch my old padawan, I clambered over him to get to the other side of the bed before slipping out from under the sheets.

Our thighs and hips had grazed each other, and a warm tingle shot up my spine as I sensed a shot of some unidentifiable emotion from him through our bond. Ignoring this, I collected myself as I stood and stretched out my back as I bent over to reach my shirt.

When I stood again to put it on, I was aware of eyes on me- Anakin's eyes on me- and fought hard against the crimson crawling quickly up the curves of my neck and shoulders.

Fabric slipped over my head and slid against my skin as I turned to face Anakin, hands still behind his head, regarding me with the air of a child looking into the window of a pet store; he seemed to be holding in happiness, holding back; seemed somewhat disheartened and content.

At the time, of course, I assumed at this was all my imagination. It was just Anakin- the boy who I had to drag away from girls nearly upon the daily- the boy who saw me as more of an older brother than anything else- the boy who couldn't possibly have feelings for me.