I’m trying to do writing warm-ups now, so here’s a tiny bit from that flight attendant Anakin/traveller Obi-Wan thing from a few weeks ago! I’m not sure how I feel about it, but I’m liking warm-ups!
Obi-Wan sips at his dismal tea and frowns at his laptop. When he first started this job business class felt like a ridiculous extravagance. But now that he’s expected to work on these flights he sees the value. If he’s annoyed now, he can only imagine how much worse it would be if some stranger was elbowing him in the ribs the whole time.
“I know, sir, I’m sorry.”
Obi-Wan perks up at that low, harried apology, and cranes his head to search for the source.
It’s the same flight attendant as his last flight, the tall, pretty boy with the messy hair. He’s just as handsome as he was three days earlier, and his hair has gotten worse. Obi-Wan aches to spend a few minutes tugging those golden-brown curls apart until they frame his handsome face.
But the boy (Anakin, his mind supplies) is looking distinctly unhappy. He has a basket in his arms filled with colorful little cellophane packets, and a frustrated scowl on his pink, plush lips.
“Don’t you have any peanuts?” comes a voice, imperious and haughty as Anakin tries handing him a packet.
Anakin bites his lip and exhales heavily. “Not for legal reasons, no. Too many allergies.”
The man harrumphs. “I think half those things are made up. Gluten allergies, milk allergies: in my day people ate what they were given and liked it.”
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. The concept of irony is apparently lost on this man.
Anakin huffs. “I think people just died, sir.”
“You’re young, you don’t understand. This is just to trick us into buying more of their fancy, free-range, organic crap for three times the money.”
“You caught us. It’s a massive conspiracy that goes all the way to the top. Figuratively and literally,” Anakin says, gesturing out the window.
“I’m just saying the airline—”
“I know, I know, we’re in the pocket of Big Cashew. Do you want the cookie or not?”
Obi-Wan laughs, and Anakin meets his eyes over the top of the seats with a hesitant smile.
Obi-Wan watches his progress down the aisle until Anakin comes to a stop at Obi-Wan’s seat, basket still in hand. “Sorry about that,” Anakin offers, not looking remotely sorry.
Obi-Wan doesn’t mind. That man was annoying, and Anakin is unfairly handsome. He can get away with a lot. “No need. I don’t think airlines have been serving peanuts for at least a decade. He’s a bit out of touch.”
Anakin gestures irritably. “Don’t get me started. I’m just surprised he didn’t try to slap my ass and call me toots.”
Humiliatingly Obi-Wan’s eyes drop to Anakin’s hips for a moment then skitter back up. “Small mercies.”
“I remember you from the flight out,” Anakin says, his very blue gaze roaming across Obi-Wan’s face. “Short trip?”
Anakin remembers him, how sweet. “Business, I’m afraid. I fly out once a month to work with our partners on the west coast.”
“Oh yeah? This is my usual flight now, so I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” Anakin bites his lip and shifts his weight between his feet. “I’m sorry, I know you told me your name—”
“Obi-Wan.” He doesn’t blame Anakin for not knowing his name. There are so many passengers and only a few flight attendants. “And you’re Anakin, right?”
Anakin nods, his curls bouncing with the movement. “At your service. Speaking of which.” Anakin brandishes a packet. “Cookie?”
Obi-Wan takes the crinkly offering with a smile “Thank you.” He examines the packet for a moment, turning it over and feeling the traces of heat from Anakin’s hand. “What if someone has a fatal cookie allergy?”
“Oh we let those people die,” Anakin says with a grin. “Get them out of the gene pool.”
Obi-Wan smiles too, something fluttering in his stomach at the sight of Anakin’s happiness. “It’s so rare to find an airline willing to come out so confidently in favor of eugenics.”
“It was important to me that I find a company with principles, you know?”
“I once thought the same, but I’m a lawyer.” Obi-Wan shrugs lightly and picks up his little Styrofoam cup. “I had to settle for an employer that isn’t actively committing war crimes.”
Anakin laughs, throwing his head back and exposing the length of his throat above his little ascot, and Obi-Wan chokes on his weak tea.
“I like you,” Anakin says, mirth still playing across his pretty features, and Obi-Wan’s heart stutters pathetically at the admission. “You can have two cookies.”
“Now this is why I spring for business class,” Obi-Wan says, accepting his bounty. “You really ought to include this in the brochure.”
Anakin snorts. “Fat chance. If anyone asks, I’m telling them you stole that one and then I’m throwing you out the emergency exit.”
“No need. They call it the law of the land for a reason, you know.”
Obi-Wan is a mile in the air and he still thinks he can hear the sound of all of his law professors rolling in their graves at once, even the ones that are still alive.
But Anakin looks so pleased with himself after his ridiculous little joke that Obi-Wan can’t help but laugh. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, before I accept any more incriminating snacks.”
Anakin opens his mouth and Obi-Wan waits eagerly for what he’ll say next. He hasn’t had this much fun on a flight…ever, not even that time he and Quinlan got bumped up to first class and drank all the wine in the wine cart. There’s just something about this surly young man that gets Obi-Wan’s blood pumping.
But then Anakin snaps his mouth shut, his lips settling into a pout. “I should get going,” Anakin says, staring down the aisle.
Obi-Wan peers around his seat to see the flight attendant with the colorful braids glaring at Anakin furiously. “Ah. I won’t keep you.”
“Enjoy your spoils,” Anakin says, and scratches at the back of his head bashfully, messing his curls up even further. “And, uh, thanks.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t bother to ask what for, given the caliber of conversation Anakin’s gotten from the rest of the passengers. “Thank you,” he says, smiling warmly. “I do have just one more question though, before you leave.”
Obi-Wan lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Just how big is this cashew?”
Anakin leans in close and Obi-Wan catches a whiff of his shampoo, something fresh and woodsy in the otherwise stale air of the cabin. “Oh Obi-Wan,” he whispers. “It’s enormous.”
