wip wednesday
it is still wednesday, so have a wip snip:
“Professor, I’m done changing your oil like you asked, but, um…”
The young, deep voice of Obi-Wan’s former student appeared nearly at the same time the boy himself did, rounding out of the entryway of Obi-Wan’s home and into the kitchen where Obi-Wan was busy grading papers. It was immediately obvious what he had meant to say, because beneath Anakin’s charming curly hair, beautiful blue eyes, and that muscle in his neck that always drew Obi-Wan’s gaze, there was an oil-slick splotch in the middle of his faded t-shirt.
Obi-Wan set his red pen down—his third of the afternoon. “Would you like me to wash that for you, Anakin? Before the stain sets?”
“Oh, I mean, I was just going to ask if I should come tomorrow to rake under your tree instead,” Anakin murmured. He scratched at the back of his neck. “You don’t have to…”
“Please, Anakin, it’s no trouble.” Obi-Wan smiled, already halfway to standing. “It’ll take me five minutes, plus whatever time it’s in the wash.”
Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, a soft flush on his face. He began to pull at the hem of his shirt, baring his torso in one smooth motion that had Obi-Wan’s mouth going dry. “Alright, Professor. Can I borrow your shower, then?”
Obi-Wan’s face was hot, probably as reddish as his beard, as he took the shirt Anakin offered him. “Sure… Sure. You know where the bathroom is.”
The way Anakin was looking at Obi-Wan intensified, something thickening between the two of them until it could have been cut with a knife. Anakin lingered for a moment longer, knuckles grazing the table and the papers Obi-Wan had been so diligently working to evaluate just moments earlier. His thumb swept over one corner, where there was a big red “82” marked by Obi-Wan’s own hand.
“You know where I’ll be, then.”
“Mhmm!” Obi-Wan chirped, looking away suddenly. He couldn’t… he shouldn’t look at Anakin too long, when he was in a state of undress like he was.
Anakin went upstairs, and when Obi-Wan didn’t feel like the image of Anakin’s well-sculpted chest was burned into his retinas anymore, he retreated to the laundry room with Anakin’s slightly sweaty, oil-stained shirt.
What a situation Obi-Wan found himself in.
