Can I request "almost kisses that are interrupted by a third party"? 💙
Sorry for the delay, peach! Thanks so much for the prompt 💗
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The mess deck was quiet on the Negotiator, save for the hum of droid engines and gears, and the soft whispers of an intimate conversation. Droids whirled around collecting abandoned plates and cups, strewn napkins and bits of dropped food, cleaning up the detritus left over from a rousing victory party held in honour of another mission well done, and another journey survived. Most of the ship’s occupants were gone, tucked away in their cots or returned to their postings as they slowly made their way back to Coruscant.
Most, but not all.
Anakin and Obi-Wan remained sat on the floor in the corner, their backs pressed against the metal hull as they shared the last of the drink and picked away at a slice of cake made out of the biscuits found in ration packets. The icing was gritty and the cake itself dry, while the beer was weak and had lost all its fizz, little bubbles long since evaporated into the recycles air up above. But both hit the spot in a way that not even the most expensive of parties on Coruscant could, with towers of glasses filled with perfumed alcohol, and decadent desserts coated in sugars and exotic fruit.
Anakin’s cheeks hurt from laughing and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his brow and the base of his neck slick with sweat, curls matted across his temples. The muscles of his legs and ass ached from the hard floor beneath him, and the cake was beginning to disagree with his meal from earlier, rations mixed with nutritional pellets, neither of which filled the void a proper meal could.
But he didn’t dare move, too comfortable and sated in other ways. Obi-Wan’s voice and the little pearls of laughter that slipped into his stories warmed Anakin’s belly; the twinkle in his eyes mesmerizing; the blush to his cheeks both from the warmth of the space and the effects of the drink its own sort of intoxication, and the lock of auburn hair across his brow captivated Anakin’s wandering attention, until he could think of nothing but Obi-Wan.
It was rare to see him this relaxed; rarer still where Anakin had time to enjoy it.
And so he remained on the floor, dissecting the last of the cake with an idle fork as Obi-Wan told him about a party he’d attended over a decade ago as a Padawan. He finished the story with a satisfied sigh, his hands linked together on his lap, legs kicked out in front of him as he stared out across the mess. The droids continued their mission dutifully, little beeps and chirps accompanying their actions.
Anakin admired the bob of Obi-Wan’s throat as he swallowed.
“What about you, Anakin?” Obi-Wan lolled his head to the side to look at him. His lids were heavy, eyes bleary with drink and exhaustion, his smile soft and patient.
“What about me?” he repeated.
“Any exciting parties from your past that I don’t know about?”
Anakin’s cheeks heated, and he ducked his head to look down at the crumbs on the plate. “Not that I was invited to,” he admitted.
Obi-Wan didn’t press into the bruise, for which Anakin was grateful. Obi-Wan knew Anakin struggled to make connections; nothing more needed to be said about it.
“How does this one stack compared to your other parties?” he asked, trying to deflect the questions back to Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan straightened up a little and reached up to stroke his beard. He collected a dusting of icing he’d been unaware was there, his brows furrowing as he flicked it off his thumb and forefinger with a glare. Anakin smiled and rested his head against the wall.
“I’d say it was one of the better ones I’ve attended,” Obi-Wan finally said with a nod that gave it a sense of finality.
“Really?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I dunno, it’s just… the cake was awful, the booze were weak and there wasn’t nearly enough, and the Clones love to sing even when none of them can carry a tune.”
“So?”
Anakin shrugged. “You’ve been to all sorts of grand, luxurious events over the years - I thought those would be top of list. Besides, you’re also—”
“I’m also what?” Obi-Wan interrupted. His tone was clipped, but there was a spark in his eyes that spoke of amusement, and their bond remained steady.
“You’re also a bit of a snob.”
Obi-Wan’s laughter caught Anakin off-guard. It was lush and filling, like the rush of water on a hot Tatooine day. It skirted through Anakin’s body before settling in his stomach, making him unsteady and full.
“I’m not a snob,” Obi-Wan began as he picked imaginary lint from his tabards. “I simply enjoy quality things.”
“So a snob, then.”
Obi-Wan glared, but his expression softened almost immediately the second their eyes locked. Something shot through their bond then - a little spark of electricity that made Anakin’s toes curls in his boots, and his hands ball into fists as they lay uselessly on his lap. He knew that sensation - it always came just before a fight Obi-Wan knew he was going to win, quick and satisfied and so terribly smug.
Only there was excitement just below the current this time, making Anakin unsteady and nervous. He squeezed his hands harder together, the nails on his flesh hand digging into his palm, but the sharp stinging sensation did little to distract from the fact that Obi-Wan had leaned in closer. He was close enough where Anakin could smell the alcohol and sweetness on his breath, feel it across his cheeks and lips; close enough where if Anakin wanted to he could count every lash and freckle, every worn line and streak of grey, and close enough where he could touch Obi-Wan - slide his hand along his jaw, feel the bristle of his beard along his palm and the tips of his fingers, the heat of his skin, the softness of the space just behind his ear.
Close enough where he could take what he’d always wanted but had never been brave enough to ask for.
“W-what makes this party special then?” Anakin asked, his voice unsteady even to his own ears.
Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly, his eyes skirting down to Anakin’s lips before coming back up. Anakin caught movement at the corner of his eye but paid it no mind, transfixed by the presence of Obi-Wan.
“I thought it was obvious…” Obi-Wan mumbled. His voice was lower now, and rich like the honey on top of Coruscant dessert cakes. “It’s because you’re here, Anakin.”
Anakin let out a soft sigh and watched as Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed, his lips parting, his hand rising to cup Anakin’s cheek as he pulled him in closer and—
The loud beeping of a droid broke the spell, and Anakin watched in horror as Obi-Wan jumped away from him as if scalded. The droid remained oblivious to what it had done, the lights on the top of its head blinking as its small arms reached out for the abandoned plate and glasses tucked between them. Obi-Wan passed the dishes to the droid while Anakin sat back and glowered at the floor.
it was as if someone had just opened the airlock on him, sucking back all the warmth and oxygen before unceremoniously closing the doors again, just as Anakin was about to fly out into the vastness of space.
“Come, Anakin, it’s late.”
Anakin looked up to see Obi-Wan had risen from their space in the floor. He held his hand out to Anakin, a small smile on his lips, cheeks still flush - the only reminder that anything had almost happened. With a sigh, Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand and hauled himself up, grunting as his legs protested the sudden movement. Their hands remained locked for a moment longer - warm leather with soft flesh - but the spell had been broken, the moment undone.
“Goodnight, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said as they left the mess and stopped in the hallway.
“Goodnight, Master.”
Obi-Wan’s smile faltered a second before he nodded and headed down the hallway. The familiar tension was back, the stoicism of his Jedi Mantle once again donned, his role as Master firmly in place.
Anakin bit the inside of his cheek and turned the other way.
