#kenobane

[hobgoblinsandpeachfuzz]

saw a bunch of cute fanart of ships in a box this one comes pre-packaged with a box so i had to

[undead-nothosaur]

Was this joke worth drawing an entire comic immediately? Probably not but I feel like theres not enough silly Cad content.

Sometimes when youre on the run and delusional levels of exhausted you make some poor choices... alternatively maybe Todo was pranking Cad idk

[spicedrobot]

my cad bane comm drawn by the amazing @dammitperseus! i couldn't be happier with the final result 😍🥰💖💖 thanks again!!

[lemontrance]

!

They have me in a choke hold💀

[rulimaquina]

[wolveria]

The Jedi's Gambit - Ch 13

Pairing: Cad Bane x Obi-Wan Kenobi

Series Warnings: Explicit sexual content, violence, medical procedures, Force shenanigans, enemies to lovers

Chapter Summary: Obi-Wan decides what to do with the Sith artifact, and Bane isn't happy.

AO3

Obi-Wan was slower to wake than usual, his limbs heavy and warm with sleep, a pleasant weight around his middle. Only when he opened his eyes and saw blue fingers loosely curled around his hand over his stomach did he remember.

And if that wasn’t enough of a reminder, the hard length against his backside certainly was.

Obi-Wan’s teeth dug into his bottom lip to keep any noise from escaping. He would love nothing more than to indulge in the desire coiling low in his belly—there was no use in denying its presence after last night—but there was something he had to take care of first.

As carefully as he could, he unwrapped Bane’s fingers and put his arm back against his side, wincing as he slid partway across the bed and his own erection strained against his trousers.

Bane did not take his absence unnoticed. He stirred, mumbled something in his sleep, and Obi-Wan quickly returned to his side. He cupped a hand along his cheek and spoke a quiet command.

“Sleep.”

It wasn’t a simple verbal suggestion; Obi-Wan nudged him with the Force, urging the bounty hunter back to sleep.

He resisted, even while mostly unconscious, and his eyes were red slits, blurrily trying to focus on Obi-Wan’s face. Guilt churning his stomach, Obi-Wan pressed his lips to Bane’s, soft and apologetic as he sent the suggestion once more, this time without speaking a word.

Bane relaxed, his eyes closing and his lips growing lax into the kiss until he was completely submerged once more.

Obi-Wan pulled back, taking in the appearance of the sleeping bounty hunter one last time. He hoped Bane could forgive him for what he was about to do.

After getting dressed and leaving instructions with both the medical and personal droid, Obi-Wan departed the station. Dex’s ship groaned at being moved, as if it too was voicing its concern over the merits of this idea, but he didn’t hesitate to plot his next course. There was nothing to do but wait.

Obi-Wan hadn’t had a lot of time to reflect since this whole misadventure began. It had been one crisis averted after another, and now that he had a moment to breathe, Obi-Wan didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

Well, he knew what he was doing at that precise moment: removing the source of Bane’s sickness. He didn’t like the idea of leaving, but Bane could use the sleep, and it would keep him from attempting to stop Obi-Wan.

Todo had listened to the Jedi’s instructions while wringing his hands like a distressed grandmother, but he knew the droid was dependable. Obi-Wan had thought him too flighty to be useful at first, but he had to admit he might have been in real trouble if Todo hadn’t grabbed the Sith artifact from Bane.

Thankfully, droids didn’t seem to be affected by dark side objects. He’d handed over the artifact without question, dropping the jagged, blood-red crystal into the lead-lined box Obi-Wan had held open, clasping it shut with a final thud.

Over the lulling thrum of the sublight engines, Obi-Wan’s thoughts turned to Quinlan Vos of all people. On their journey to Nal Hutta to track down Bane, Quinlan had mentioned that the bounty hunter had wronged him in the past. He’d teased Obi-Wan on more than one occasion, promising to tell the story, but he had yet to make good on that promise. He was beginning to wonder if Quinlan hadn’t embellished his run-in with Bane just to get a rise out of Obi-Wan. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

And then there was his Padawan, so full of anger when it came to the bounty hunter’s repeated escapes. Where Anakin had wanted to lock him in a cell and throw away the key, Obi-Wan wished to grab Bane around his lean shoulders, look him in the eye, and shake some sense into him.

But Obi-Wan knew Bane well enough by now to realize that wasn’t the way to reach him. Patience, honesty, and a high tolerance for prickly words seemed to be the charted course to earn Bane’s trust. It was with that navigation in mind that Obi-Wan acted now, though Bane wouldn’t see it that way.

Nor would the Council. Obi-Wan was disobeying them again in regard to the bounty hunter, and now in regard to the artifact. The Council would want it in their custody, to study it or lock it away. He couldn’t trust that his fellow Council members would understand that such measures wouldn’t be enough.

Not if Bane was going to get better. And Obi-Wan suspected that argument would move no one other than himself.

So, it was without regret that Obi-Wan placed the lead-lined box into the garbage chute, aimed the opening toward the star that blazed off his portside, and jettisoned the Sith artifact into the fiery destruction of the system’s sun.

Its journey would be accelerated by the star’s gravity well, and Obi-Wan didn’t need ship radar to tell him when the dark object was destroyed, incinerated down to the components of its atoms. There would be nothing left of its insidious pull, no shadow of the Force to poison the life around it.

Obi-Wan felt it, the moment the artifact burned out. He took a breath that felt as if it had been withheld for a long time, and he plotted a course back to the station.

His heart was lighter, freer, the heavy presence of the jewel gone from his mind. Obi-Wan had come into the barest contact with the object, and even he noticed its absence. He could only imagine what Bane would be feeling, and that uncertainty filled Obi-Wan with a nervous kind of anticipation.

His arrival to the station was… anticlimactic. He docked the ship and returned to the living area without any alarms or curses flung his way. Obi-Wan reached out with his senses, trepidation filling his steps at the lack of a furious bounty hunter coming out to face him, but he found Bane still fast asleep.

Obi-Wan paused in the doorway, taking in the sight in front of him, as if committing it to memory. Bane, lying on his stomach, slightly curled on Obi-Wan’s side of the bed, gripping the blankets against his chest with his head partially buried in the pillow.

Obi-Wan smiled. The sight looked far too alluring, so he stripped off the jacket and vest and crawled back into bed. He had to nudge over the bounty hunter, who didn’t so much as move over as he did curl around Obi-Wan’s body like a reptile around a sun-warm rock.

He knew the moment Bane was awake, because he stiffened, and when Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the bounty hunter was glaring back at him from inches away.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan said, as if Bane wasn’t glaring murder at him.

“What are you doin’ in my bed.”

Obi-Wan blinked, his amused smile dropping from his face.

“You… don’t remember last night?”

Bane’s brows furrowed, and then he rolled onto his back, frowning up at the ceiling.

“I remember. Doesn’t answer my question.”

Obi-Wan sighed and then rolled toward the edge of the bed and sat up. Seemed he was done sleeping in for the day. As he pulled on his boots and stood to replace his other pieces of gear, he sensed Bane’s stare on his back, though his mood was locked down tight behind his shields.

“Think you can stomach some breakfast?” Obi-Wan asked, pointedly not answering Bane’s question. “I’m a bit peckish myself.”

Obi-Wan felt that glare turn mean, and Bane growled something in Durese.

“Such language, Bane,” he said with renewed cheer. “Profane words stem from vulgar thoughts. Keep that in mind the next time you compare my mother to a Hutt’s backside wrinkles.”

Bane made a choked noise behind him, and Obi-Wan smirked to himself as he left the bedroom.

By the time the bounty hunter entered the kitchen, disappointingly wearing his entire ensemble, including the body glove and tubes, Obi-Wan had managed to boil something on the stove that resembled tea. He prepared two cups, as well as two packaged MREs, and brought them over to the table where Bane sat hunched, his gaze wary as he watched Obi-Wan from under the brim of his hat.

So far, so good. Bane seemed unaware of the fact the Sith artifact had been destroyed, if his lack of threats to Obi-Wan’s person was anything to go by.

Bane took the cup of tea with a narrow-eyed look, but he still took a sip without complaint, at least until the liquid touched his tongue. Then he turned his head and spat, right there on the floor.

“You tryin’ to poison me?!”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“You’re not going to die. Just drink it.” But after he took his own sip, Obi-Wan made a face as the bitter liquid triggered his gag reflex, and he carefully scooted the cup away. “On second thought, those leaves might have turned. When was the last time you went shopping?”

“Don’t exactly have time to go on a supply run, now do I.”

“No, I suppose you’d want to lay low while carrying something as hot as a Sith artifact.”

Bane simply rolled his eyes, and Obi-Wan relaxed. Not even when he brought up the artifact did Bane notice its missing presence.

Apparently, the bounty hunter had other things on his mind. His voice went smooth, almost teasing as he poked at the contents of his food packet.

“So. We gonna pretend I didn’t break yer cherry back on that freighter?”

Obi-Wan choked on the food he’d just spooned into his mouth. Once he swallowed down the mushy rations, he said, “I assumed you didn’t deem it noteworthy enough to give it a second thought.”

“Funny. Was thinkin’ the same about you.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, brows raised.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I don’t kid when it comes to—”

“No, do not finish that sentence.”

Bane’s lips pulled into a delighted smirk, and Obi-Wan wished the expression wouldn’t make his stomach flip like it was trying to do tricks.

“I slurped you up like a tasty dish on the Delano, and ye still blush when I say somethin’ halfway interesting.”

Obi-Wan pretended to focus on scraping the food out of its package.

“I distinctly recall being able to elicit some fascinating noises out of you last night, and I didn’t need to use my words, either.”

It was Bane’s turn to choke as Obi-Wan continued to eat his meal, his expression the picture of innocence.

Obi-Wan’s hope that the artifact’s absence would remain unnoticed slowly perished. By the end of the day, the bounty hunter paced the length of the lounge, his shoulders hunched, his hands flexing and clenching at his sides.

Obi-Wan winced at the pain it must be causing his broken knuckles, but he didn’t budge when Bane abruptly changed direction and stalked right for him. He stopped only a short distance away, his chest rising and falling in agitation.

“What did ye do with it.”

“I’m not sure what you—”

“Don’t lie to me, Kenobi.” His hands curled into claws, though they remained next to his thighs. “You did something to it. I can’t… I can’t feel it anymore.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a moment, and then he said, “I took the ship, headed to the nearest system, and threw it into the star.”

Bane’s face actually lost some of its color.

“You didn’t.”

Obi-Wan spread his hands, a gesture of pleading for rationality, but by the growing wild look in Bane’s eyes, he wouldn’t find any.

“It was slowly killing you, Bane. No matter how far I moved it, I could sense its iron grip on you, how it would never relinquish its claim no matter the distance.” Obi-Wan’s voice dropped, his expression firm. “It was either you, or the artifact. And I chose to destroy the artifact.”

Bane’s trembling, which had started roughly an hour ago, grew worse as he took a step forward, a growl clenched in his teeth.

“You idiot. You’ve killed me anyway.”

“Bane, if you would just—”

“You don’t get it, ye kriffin’ asshole! I’m dead!”

Obi-Wan ignored the insults, knowing they weren’t personal. Bane was like an alcoholic who had been cut off from his supply. He knew the withdrawal would be ugly, far uglier than it would be with a simple physical addiction.

“Because of your employer, I take it?”

Bane actually closed his eyes with the force of the shiver that wracked his body.

“The holocron,” Obi-Wan said, watching his face carefully. “The children. It was him, wasn’t it?”

When Bane shook his head but said nothing, Obi-Wan strode forward and gently gripped his shoulders. The tension under his hands felt hard enough to snap.

“Give me a name.”

Bane opened his eyes, looking down at Obi-Wan with a pained expression. It hurt Obi-Wan to even witness it.

“Don’t got one. Didn’t ask. Never met him in person. It was always through a communicator or a middleman. But… even still, he managed to… inflict his displeasure from a distance.”

A pit formed in Obi-Wan’s stomach.

“It’s the Sith Lord, isn’t it? You’re working for him.”

Bane shook off Obi-Wan’s hands, and he crossed his arms over his chest as if to protect himself.

“Nah, I’m finished. Even if I survive the shakes, he’ll find me.” Bane’s eyes grew as hard as cut rubies. “And then I’ll really regret I wasn’t the one you didn’t chuck into the sun.”

“He won’t find you,” Obi-Wan said, his voice solid with certainty. “You asked for protection, and we’ll provide it. Technically, you did hand over the Sith artifact.”

Bane was less than convinced by the curl of his lips.

“If you think the Jedi can hide me, you’ve never met a Sith before.”

“Not only have I met a Sith Lord, I’ve defeated one. Possibly this Sith Lord’s old apprentice.”

That caught Bane’s attention, and he appraised Obi-Wan with a look that might be impressed if it didn’t also come with a lingering sneer.

“It was stupid of ya to destroy somethin’ like that on account of my discomfort. That thing was priceless.”

“A life is priceless. A thing is just that—a thing.”

“Maybe someone else’s life, but not mine. It ain’t worth bantha shit, and yer a useless negotiator to trade it fer the artifact.”

That was a little too much for him to swallow, and Obi-Wan’s mouth hardened into a scowl.

“I don’t understand you, Bane. I really don’t. Just when I think you might be reasonable, when I think we come to some sort of understanding, you do something to sabotage it. It’s like you can’t help but self-destruct. You almost died for this artifact, for this Sith Lord who you’re clearly terrified of, and you refuse to do a thing to help yourself, let alone help me keep you safe.”

Bane’s eyes narrowed the longer Obi-Wan spoke, and by the end his face was creased in unfriendly lines, the hint of sharp teeth behind his lips.

“You done?”

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, and said, “For the moment. How quickly I need to repeat this tune depends on your capacity for being reckless and stubborn.”

Now Bane did expose his teeth, took a step forward, and jammed the pad of his injured finger against Obi-Wan’s chest.

“It weren’t recklessness that made me shove a gem into my oil sac. There wouldn’t have been a problem if the clones didn’t decide to have their fun with me.”

“The same way the guards had ‘fun’ on Coruscant.”

Bane’s mouth clamped shut, and Obi-Wan sighed.

“Did you think I didn’t notice your injuries? The Jedi didn’t do that to you, so that leaves the clone troopers.”

“Ain’t you smart. Nothin’ gets past those pretty blues of yers.”

Obi-Wan didn’t take the bait, but it was a close thing. His patience, already spread too thin these days, was yanked and tugged with each barb and caustic insult.

“Why did you do it?”

“Same reason I do anything,” Bane snarled. “I was paid.”

“You used your body as a smuggler’s vessel, Bane. I don’t believe even you are that desperate for money.”

Bane slipped so close the brim of his hat brushed the top of Obi-Wan’s head.

“How would you know, Kenobi? You ever been hard up for cash? So down on yer luck that you’d do anything to keep from starvin’, even if it meant weeks of sleepless nights after?”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond, startled into silence.

“No, you don’t understand a damn thing. Don’t know what it is to be helpless, to know what it is to have nothing, and then to have that kind of power at yer fingertips. The jewel gave me that. Forget livin’ a cushy retirement with the money I would have made, I’m talking real power. The kind only you Jedi and those Sith bastards get to have.”

The words were out of Obi-Wan’s mouth before he could stop them.

“The Sith artifact didn’t give you a connection to the Force! You already had that!”

Bane took a step back, but his expression was confused more than it was surprised, his brows furrowed and his mouth pulled into a frown.

“You… you don’t know, do you?” Obi-Wan’s voice dropped into a near-whisper, as if saying it quietly meant the realization would be less of a shock. “Bane… you’re Force-sensitive.”

Bane’s confusion curled into disbelief and anger, but Obi-Wan wouldn’t let him retreat from the truth.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? You’ve always been able to keep pace with those of the Order, even stay a step ahead of us. You truly believe it’s your weapons and tech that make that possible?” Obi-Wan shook his head. “You resisted a mind probe from three Jedi, two of which are members of the Council. It’s no wonder you were able to hold the Sith artifact within your body without your mind being torn to tatters. Your mental shields are exceptional, and only a lifetime of discipline could have saved you from succumbing immediately—”

“Stop talkin’,” he snarled, his eyes a little too wild. “You don’t know what the hell yer sayin’.”

Obi-Wan ignored him and continued.

“You grew up on Duro, didn’t you? Which is Republic space. One of us must have sought you out when you were a youngling.”

Bane glared but said nothing.

“Which means, either you were turned down when tested, or you were inducted into the Order as an Initiate and failed to make it to Padawan.”

Bane’s eyes narrowed further, and Obi-Wan sensed he was searching in the wrong direction.

“Or… you weren’t found by one of us. Our records state you were born on Duro, but that doesn’t mean you grew up there. If you were taken out of Republic space—”

Bane growled, and yes, Obi-Wan had found the mark.

“You were never tested. If you had been—”

Apparently, that was too much for Bane to hear. The fist he threw at Obi-Wan was easily sidestepped, and when he struck again, the Jedi slipped behind him and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. He tried to be careful of his injured hand, but Bane’s attempt to break his hold was violent and frantic.

He was beyond words, a deep snarl in his throat, and Obi-Wan said, “Do we really need to do this? I’d rather not piece you back together after you attempt to fight me again.”

Bane went stock-still.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Obi-Wan winced.

“That… did not come out as intended.”

“I didn’t ask for a pity fuck, and if I did, you’d be the last person I’d need it from.”

“That’s not—”

Bane shoved against his grip and snarled, “Get yer goddamn hands off me, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan did as asked, regret laden in his words as Bane rubbed his wrist.

“Bane, please. Just listen—”

“Get out.”

Obi-Wan blinked, startled at the deep, utter contempt in Bane’s tone. There was loathing in his eyes, something that was too uncomfortably close to hatred.

“Bane—”

“Get out!”

Obi-Wan backed up a step at Bane’s sudden movement toward him.

“Don’t want ye, don’t need ye, and I sure as shit don’t need yer righteousness stinkin’ up my station! Get! Out!”

Something twisted in his chest, an invisible knife that cut deep despite the fact he couldn’t see it.

“Bane—”

His eyes were deadly slits, his voice just as lethal.

“If I see even a hint of you again, I’ll take you out myself.”

“You don’t… mean that.”

Bane took another step toward him, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but retreat in the face of the overwhelming hostility radiating from his mind.

“Fine, I’ll spell it out for ya.” Bane’s face twisted, his teeth bared as he continued to advance. “I can’t stand the sight of you. Never have. Yer good for a tumble in the sheets, but not even that can make you tolerable fer long. Yer nothing to me, Kenobi. Nothin’.”

Obi-Wan backed to the threshold of Bane’s living compartment, his throat aching enough for it to hurt to breathe.

“I think I’m beginning to understand,” Obi-Wan finally said, his voice without strength. “Thank you for making yourself quite clear. You’ll have to excuse me; I’ve always been a slow learner.”

As if Obi-Wan had reached across the short space and slapped him, Bane flinched. But he didn’t say a word as Obi-Wan turned and walked away.

He felt horribly disconnected from his own body as he traveled down the empty corridors, and he went through the ship’s airlock without truly seeing, some part of his brain going through the motions while the rest of him remained frozen in place.

Once inside, Obi-Wan went through the exit docking procedures, and without allowing himself the chance to unfreeze, he entered the coordinates for Coruscant and escaped into hyperspace.

Next Chapter

[fat-tasty-krogan]

[weirdlet]

A commission from the lovely @isilwenshadewind- a domestic morning on Coruscant with two soon-to-be parents, all decked out in mating colors.